In a moment of madness before setting off for the Himalayas, I booked flights to Faro, Portugal, and organised three weeks' unpaid work on an organic farm on the Algarve coast, Portugal. I still have no idea why I decided to do it.. and although it didn't turn out to be a perfect experience, I'm glad I went.
Monte da Cunca is nestled just behind the wild sand dunes on the south western tip of Portugal's coast, near the tiny town of Carrapateira. It's home to Klaus, Dania and the little Joana, a family from Austria and Italy making a life for themselves in the Algarve through organic farming. It's a ramshackle place, with a collection of small stone buildings and caravans tucked away amongst the bamboo, animals running around, and pieces of old farm machinery strewn everywhere, but the longer you spend there the more you understand its beauty and charm.
I'd organised to work there through WWOOF - that's Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms - a global organisation linking travellers with organic farms who could do with some extra hands to help out, in return for a place to stay and food to eat. WWOOFing involved working six hours per day Monday to Friday on the farm, plus four hours on Saturdays, giving me the rest of the time to explore the area, with delicious food to eat and a dry place to sleep at night.
As soon as I entered the farm, I began my journey of self-discovery. I was shown where I'd be sleeping (an old damp stone barn, with six mattresses, puddles on the floor and probably quite a few rodent roomies) before Klaus pointed out a few bits of the farm - the kitchen, polytunnel, compost toilet and 'chicken paradiso'. I then just wandered around and helped out where I could, which started with me changing a tyre on a completely rotten and falling apart Ford camper van, and finished with me driving a van, pulling a trailer down a muddy winding track as the sun set and the petrol gauge dipped closer and closer to empty! That first afternoon was a pretty good indication of what the rest of my time on the farm would be like - unpredictable.
I'd hoped to learn about farming and how being organic works, through hands on experience and chatting to Klaus and Dania. Unfortunately, it didn't really work out that way.. Monte da Cunca as a farm only really provides enough vegetables to sustain its workers and to sometimes sell bumper crops on to local restaurants. The family's main sources of income are the hostel and guesthouse across the road, which provide beautiful accommodation to eco-conscious tourists. That does mean that instead of working in the vegetable garden, feeding the chickens or planting in the polytunnel most of the time, the majority of my working hours were spent cleaning ovens and bathrooms and kitchens, sweeping floor after floor and thinking about the guests. This goes completely against WWOOF Portugal's principles and shouldn't actually be allowed.. so I'm glad people understand that's not how it's not meant to be. But still, that's what happened. I'm now emotionally scarred from scrubbing an oven alone for three hours on my second day.
When I got an opportunity to do actual hands-on farm work, I always made the most of it and enjoyed myself. Planting seedlings in the polytunnel was pretty fun, although it's a shame I won't get to see if the plants survive or not.. and when the farm cats tried to help by digging them back up again it got a bit annoying! One day a few of us went to a field nearby to plant baby fig trees, detaching the babies from the wizened old trees and re-planting them along an irrigation tube, whilst enjoying the view across the farmland to the sea. A lot of time was also spent collecting, cutting and organising firewood, which was essential to fuel the stove and cook food for everyone on the farm three times a day. It was definitely good practise for fire lighting, not being able to just cheat and pour fuel all over it..
We - usually about 12 of us - all ate breakfast and lunch together, and usually dinner too, with one or two people each day being put in charge of creating something out of the farm's vegetables, fearing the judgement of Dania, who used to be a chef in Florence before moving out to Cunca to work on the farm with Klaus. It felt pretty special to just be able to grab a few lettuces out of the garden whenever you wanted, and to grab a bucket of sweet potatoes out of the food storage caravan next door, cooking in gigantic pans over the wood fire oven.
The chickens were fed each day on food scraps from the kitchen. It's quite a sight to behold, watching the chickens, cockerels, guinea fowl and geese racing towards you from all directions as you throw the contents of your bucket onto the ground and hurry to get out of the way of their beaks. One of the geese, Barnaby, only had one leg after being hit by a car last year. I swear his menacing stare will haunt my dreams for years to come; he still managed to intimidate me - once even not letting me get to the compost toilet and making me trek across to the other side of the farm in the pitch black to use the other one - when all he could do was flap his wings and feebly hop in your direction. Barnaby was also best friends with Sigan, a half blind fluffball of a dog who lay around in the farmyard all day, and the pair seemed to never part - when Sigan lay underneath the kitchen table, Barnaby would wait patiently outside the door, watching her.
Overall on the farm there were three dogs, five cats, two geese (with three legs between them), a guinea fowl, and loads of chickens, plus apparently a horse, although I only saw it once, trotting through the farm being led by Klaus. The animals certainly made each day more interesting, always knowing exactly where to sit to be in your way. I also once glanced down after using the compost toilet, only to see Bao Bao enjoying herself sniffing around 4m below me.. not something you want to think about too much.
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| Cunca as the sun sets - always a beautiful view |
I'd organised to work there through WWOOF - that's Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms - a global organisation linking travellers with organic farms who could do with some extra hands to help out, in return for a place to stay and food to eat. WWOOFing involved working six hours per day Monday to Friday on the farm, plus four hours on Saturdays, giving me the rest of the time to explore the area, with delicious food to eat and a dry place to sleep at night.
As soon as I entered the farm, I began my journey of self-discovery. I was shown where I'd be sleeping (an old damp stone barn, with six mattresses, puddles on the floor and probably quite a few rodent roomies) before Klaus pointed out a few bits of the farm - the kitchen, polytunnel, compost toilet and 'chicken paradiso'. I then just wandered around and helped out where I could, which started with me changing a tyre on a completely rotten and falling apart Ford camper van, and finished with me driving a van, pulling a trailer down a muddy winding track as the sun set and the petrol gauge dipped closer and closer to empty! That first afternoon was a pretty good indication of what the rest of my time on the farm would be like - unpredictable.
 |
| The 'chicken paradiso', which on numerous occasions I saw cats and dogs lounging around in.. not quite the paradise I'd be happy with as a chicken! |
I'd hoped to learn about farming and how being organic works, through hands on experience and chatting to Klaus and Dania. Unfortunately, it didn't really work out that way.. Monte da Cunca as a farm only really provides enough vegetables to sustain its workers and to sometimes sell bumper crops on to local restaurants. The family's main sources of income are the hostel and guesthouse across the road, which provide beautiful accommodation to eco-conscious tourists. That does mean that instead of working in the vegetable garden, feeding the chickens or planting in the polytunnel most of the time, the majority of my working hours were spent cleaning ovens and bathrooms and kitchens, sweeping floor after floor and thinking about the guests. This goes completely against WWOOF Portugal's principles and shouldn't actually be allowed.. so I'm glad people understand that's not how it's not meant to be. But still, that's what happened. I'm now emotionally scarred from scrubbing an oven alone for three hours on my second day.
 |
| Planting seedlings (of an unknown plant..) in the polytunnel, whilst slowly melting in the heat |
When I got an opportunity to do actual hands-on farm work, I always made the most of it and enjoyed myself. Planting seedlings in the polytunnel was pretty fun, although it's a shame I won't get to see if the plants survive or not.. and when the farm cats tried to help by digging them back up again it got a bit annoying! One day a few of us went to a field nearby to plant baby fig trees, detaching the babies from the wizened old trees and re-planting them along an irrigation tube, whilst enjoying the view across the farmland to the sea. A lot of time was also spent collecting, cutting and organising firewood, which was essential to fuel the stove and cook food for everyone on the farm three times a day. It was definitely good practise for fire lighting, not being able to just cheat and pour fuel all over it..
We - usually about 12 of us - all ate breakfast and lunch together, and usually dinner too, with one or two people each day being put in charge of creating something out of the farm's vegetables, fearing the judgement of Dania, who used to be a chef in Florence before moving out to Cunca to work on the farm with Klaus. It felt pretty special to just be able to grab a few lettuces out of the garden whenever you wanted, and to grab a bucket of sweet potatoes out of the food storage caravan next door, cooking in gigantic pans over the wood fire oven.
 |
| A common lunchtime spread, out in the garden |
The chickens were fed each day on food scraps from the kitchen. It's quite a sight to behold, watching the chickens, cockerels, guinea fowl and geese racing towards you from all directions as you throw the contents of your bucket onto the ground and hurry to get out of the way of their beaks. One of the geese, Barnaby, only had one leg after being hit by a car last year. I swear his menacing stare will haunt my dreams for years to come; he still managed to intimidate me - once even not letting me get to the compost toilet and making me trek across to the other side of the farm in the pitch black to use the other one - when all he could do was flap his wings and feebly hop in your direction. Barnaby was also best friends with Sigan, a half blind fluffball of a dog who lay around in the farmyard all day, and the pair seemed to never part - when Sigan lay underneath the kitchen table, Barnaby would wait patiently outside the door, watching her.
Overall on the farm there were three dogs, five cats, two geese (with three legs between them), a guinea fowl, and loads of chickens, plus apparently a horse, although I only saw it once, trotting through the farm being led by Klaus. The animals certainly made each day more interesting, always knowing exactly where to sit to be in your way. I also once glanced down after using the compost toilet, only to see Bao Bao enjoying herself sniffing around 4m below me.. not something you want to think about too much.
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| One of the five farm cats, whose favourite spots to chill included the inside wood fire oven, the chicken paradiso, and the top of the fridge |
I once read something that said if you weren't saying "fuck yes" to an opportunity that came your way, you shouldn't do it. I was enjoying myself on the farm, but I wasn't waking up each morning excited to see what my day would be like, and I certainly wasn't learning anything about farming. So I swallowed my pride, disregarded what people might think about me quitting, and came back to one of my favourite places on Earth, my village in Surrey. On the way I also made the most of being in Portugal, visiting Portimao and Faro and fitting in a couple of dives in the Atlantic Ocean.
Portimao is really not my kind of place.. the scuba diving, pretty cobbled streets and fish restaurants all very much appeal to me, but the presence of other British holidaymakers in awful short sleeve shirts with sunburnt faces and beer bellies really puts me off. I did two dives with SubNauta, the best and most professional yet cheap dive centre I've ever been to - this was by far the best part of my whole visit to Portugal. Me, Sarah and our instructor Mariana first dived to 6m, very near to the rocky coast to the west of Portimao, with less than ideal visibility and long waves pushing us around. I've never dived in conditions like that before, so when I reached the surface after 30 minutes I was pleased I'd got back into diving happily and still knew what I was doing after an eight year break! After that we went further out to sea, where I dived to 18m with Mariana, down along three rocky shelves, home to octopus, starfish, sea urchins and numerous other fish I wish I knew the name of. Mariana's warning to "watch out for octopus hiding in the rocks" was slightly alarming as we went underwater, but I managed not to put my hands into any holes I wasn't meant to.. and survived the whole experience. The 40 minutes I spent down there went by incredibly fast - each time I checked my tank pressure I felt annoyed at myself for breathing so much, wishing I could stay in this underwater world for longer.
Faro, Algarve's capital, was distinctly sleepy and small. When I stayed for one night on my way to Cunca, I had a little wander around in the evening and managed to see all of the sights within an hour, strolling at a relaxed pace with no particular direction in mind. I didn't really need the extra night at the end of my trip, but it was still nice to sit by the marina in a cafe for a couple of hours, drinking ice tea (the best summer holiday drink in the world) and watching the world go by.
One of the main reasons I'd chosen to travel to Portugal was to search for Pingu ice cream. (The weather was also a draw, obviously. 22°C in November is rather nice). Numerous family holidays when I was little were spent in Portugal, eating chicken piri-piri followed by ice cream in Pingu-head-shaped pots. Apparently they still exist, and people even sell (and buy, I assume..) the empty pots on eBay! Marvel at their wonderfulness here. Sadly though, even after searching in Faro, Vila do Bispo, Carrapeteira, Portimao and Faro again, I couldn't find a single one!
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| Getting into the Atlantic ocean, stylish and smooth as ever (#annathefish) |
Portimao is really not my kind of place.. the scuba diving, pretty cobbled streets and fish restaurants all very much appeal to me, but the presence of other British holidaymakers in awful short sleeve shirts with sunburnt faces and beer bellies really puts me off. I did two dives with SubNauta, the best and most professional yet cheap dive centre I've ever been to - this was by far the best part of my whole visit to Portugal. Me, Sarah and our instructor Mariana first dived to 6m, very near to the rocky coast to the west of Portimao, with less than ideal visibility and long waves pushing us around. I've never dived in conditions like that before, so when I reached the surface after 30 minutes I was pleased I'd got back into diving happily and still knew what I was doing after an eight year break! After that we went further out to sea, where I dived to 18m with Mariana, down along three rocky shelves, home to octopus, starfish, sea urchins and numerous other fish I wish I knew the name of. Mariana's warning to "watch out for octopus hiding in the rocks" was slightly alarming as we went underwater, but I managed not to put my hands into any holes I wasn't meant to.. and survived the whole experience. The 40 minutes I spent down there went by incredibly fast - each time I checked my tank pressure I felt annoyed at myself for breathing so much, wishing I could stay in this underwater world for longer.
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| Being in the sea always seems to make me hungry.. awesome pizza after diving in Portimao |
Faro, Algarve's capital, was distinctly sleepy and small. When I stayed for one night on my way to Cunca, I had a little wander around in the evening and managed to see all of the sights within an hour, strolling at a relaxed pace with no particular direction in mind. I didn't really need the extra night at the end of my trip, but it was still nice to sit by the marina in a cafe for a couple of hours, drinking ice tea (the best summer holiday drink in the world) and watching the world go by.
One of the main reasons I'd chosen to travel to Portugal was to search for Pingu ice cream. (The weather was also a draw, obviously. 22°C in November is rather nice). Numerous family holidays when I was little were spent in Portugal, eating chicken piri-piri followed by ice cream in Pingu-head-shaped pots. Apparently they still exist, and people even sell (and buy, I assume..) the empty pots on eBay! Marvel at their wonderfulness here. Sadly though, even after searching in Faro, Vila do Bispo, Carrapeteira, Portimao and Faro again, I couldn't find a single one!
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| Old buildings along the city walls in Faro |
I couldn't speak a single word of Portuguese before I left, so that was an extra challenge. I've always hated the arrogance of British people when it comes to languages - how it's okay for us not to bother because everyone else in the world makes an effort for us. Brushing up my French before I leave for the Alps in under two weeks definitely needs to move higher up on my list of priorities.. But actually, I think overall I met more Germans than Portuguese - they seem to all be drawn to Portuguese life and thrive on the sea, sun and sand out there. Hitchhiking from Cunca, Sarah and I were picked up by a super kind and friendly German couple who now run a surf shop at Amado beach, near Carrapateira. They made room in their truck for us and chatted the whole way, detouring through the lush hills of SW Algarve and showing us beautiful hidden villages and landscapes, before driving us into the centre of Portimao, detouring massively from their destination. Acts of kindness like that mean so much, and really do stick with you after your tan has faded and you're back home in blustery Britain.
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| Sunset over the sea at Bordeira beach, near Monte da Cunca |
This trip has really made me think about why I adventure and discover and meet people. How much does other people's judgement affect me and drive the things I do? How much am I thinking about what a view will look like on Instagram whilst I'm enjoying it? And how many times have I said "that would make such a great photo!" instead of just enjoying the moment and living life. As we approach a new year and begin to think about resolutions, I think I've finally got one - find more reasons to say "fuck yes!"
This post was written sitting inside feeling cosy, drinking tea, listening to acoustic songs, looking out the window at the cold and rain.
Sometimes, home is just the best place to be.
