In an effort to not spend money, do something productive, and learn about organic food processes, Jess and I had planned to work on a farm in Italy for the last bit of our trip. For me, that was 2 weeks and Jess was planning on dividing up her time between 2 farms and a friend's place in Umbria for 6 weeks. We were thrilled to get to the beautiful farm, about an hour outside of Napoli, and find that we had our own rooms in a little cabin and that we would be working with a lovely girl from England, Samara, and a strapping young lad from New Zealand named Simon. The owner of the farm wasn't around so Samara made us feel welcome and we learned she had been at the farm for just a couple days. Later in the evening, we met the owner of the farm, Salvatore, and did a little bit of work moving furniture from a truck to the road and then from the road to the shed (I was questioning the effeciency of "touching it twice" instantly but kept my mouth shut"). Generally, it was a fine evening of getting to know our new surroundings.
I wish I could say it was all so nice and lovely. Unfortunately, the story I will tell is one of control, negligence, and disrespect. Jess and I have agreed to be totally honest about everything that happened at the farm. We don't need to embellish for people to realize what a bad situation it was. (If animal cruelty really bothers you, stop here.)
The morning after we arrived, we helped Samara feed the animals. I should say, this is not an animal farm. It is not a vegetable farm or an organic farm. I'm not even sure it is a farm at all. Salvatore basically runs a hotel and eco-tourism restaurant for his friends. He buys the food he cooks in stores, including a at-cost warehouse similar to Costco in the states. That said, he isn't particularly interested in the status of the animals or the garden. When Samara took us to feed the animals we saw them all and took note of their situations. There is no better way to do this than list it:
THREE DOGS that get one handfull of dog food a day. They spend all day on 5 foot chains.
TWENTY CHICKENS share a small pin with THREE ROOSTERS. Any farmer knows that you should only have one rooster per pin. The chickens all have a skin disease.
TWO COWS are kept on ropes all day long. They are moved to a 5 foot patch of grass, which they share with ONE HORSE, when they are permitted to eat.
EIGHT PIGLETS were born a couple weeks ago and Samara was present when they were separated from their mother (which should have happened much earlier). They have a small pin, but it has an indoor and outdoor area. They will apparently be killed for food within the next couple months.
ONE PAPA PIG lives in a small pin that has not been cleaned out for months. It smells awful, and it is hard to put food in his bucket without getting it in his slop. Generally, he seems reasonably happy and healthy, but disgusting nonetheless.
ONE MAMA PIG has a deformed back hoof. She can barely stand up and I believe her hoof has gangrene. She lies in her own mess all day, every day, convulsing. Her nipples are sores from the teeth of her piglets because they were kept with her too long. She lost weight in the week that we were there and we all prayed daily that we would find her dead overnight because of the trauma we saw her go through each day. We asked Salvatore every day to call the vet, and he never did anything. I think everyone of us got teary eyed when we saw her.
ONE POT-BELLIED PIG, named Bobby, wanders around the farm on his own whim. He is probably the healthiest and happiest animal on the farm but he is never fed and often steals food from the dogs.
A HANDFUL OF DUCKS hang out by the two buckets of water that serve as their baths. There is a duck pond with a leak in it. We asked several times for cement to fix the leak and give them water to play in. It was never given to us.
THE VEGETABLE GARDEN was overgrown, things are planted way too close together, and the irrigation system doesn't work. Samara weeded most of it before we got there and we still spent the rest of the week frustrated with it.
So, here we are, none of us knowing much about farming ourselves, knowing that the situation was not good. I can be an altruist at times so I attempted to talk to Salvatore reasonably about what on earth he thought he was doing running a farm. He told me that he had recently gotten the farm back from someone who rented it and neglected it for 5 years. He claimed he really wanted to get it on track and was working towards that. When I suggested that he limit the farm to just vegetables and no animals he seemed semi-responsive to that idea. It really didn't occur to him that he had helpless animals relying on him for food and water and that it was selfish of him to keep them while he prioritized running the restuarant and hotel.
Despite the negligence of the animals and us working way beyond the fair 5 hours, we were okay for the first two days. A good memory I kept from the farm was when I was sent to pick the figs and plums off the trees. Being up in the tree with a slight wind, only animal sounds around me, and know that my new cool friends were working nearby was a nice feeling.
Things really fell apart on the third day though. Salvatore had gone to Napoli and was due back later in the evening. Samara, Simon, Jess and myself sat down at around 9pm with some customers and waited for him with a glass of wine. When Salvatore got back, he was screaming at us in Italian for drinking wine, which had been totally fine for us to drink before. Apparently, this wine was special wine. Let me clarify that in Italy, wine is like milk. It isn't something people consider special, it is dirt cheap, and it is widely available. Plus, it was the customer that had opened this particular bottle of wine, we simply had one glass each. As punishment, Salvatore banished us to a different table from him and his guests for dinner that night (and breakfast the next morning and lunch later that day). This is an official Italian slap in the face. We didn't care so much since only Simon speaks Italian anyway, but we knew it was a mean thing to do.
The four of us had an adult discussion with Salvatore the following day. We apologized for drinking the extra special wine, yet requested that he treat us like adults and not scream at us in front of guests. The discussion lasted about 10 minutes, Salvatore interrupted almost everything I said, and only half of the four of us felt like it helped at all. The overall mood had become awkward and a rule was placed that we don't open the refridgerator except if we need water. We pretty much agreed that the rule was fine, and made our own choice to only spend time near our little employee's quarters and not be around the main house on our off time. We also decided that no matter what, we would stop working when our 5 hours were up. We found a shadey area to put our chairs, buckets to use as footrests, and Samara brought over her Ipod and speakers. We talked, one time we danced, I played stickball with rotten figs, we vented about Salvatore and generally got to know each other really well.
That seemed to work out. One evening, Salvatore's wife made a big production of saying that our penalty time was over. Not kidding, she rang a gong. There was something really irritating about Salvatore punishing us to begin with (remember, we are volunteer workers, not employees. Oh, and we are not 12.) so I wasn't thrilled that Rosanna made a big deal about us being at full strength again. Still, it was funny and we will take entertainment where we can get it.
THE NEXT DAY was a huge event for a girl's first communion. We knew there would be over 60 customers and a lot of work to do. We had already done maybe four hours of work, but to be friendly to the full-time Bulgarian employees that Salvatore takes advantage of to no end, we decided to help by washing dishes. Five hours and seven courses later (in order from start to finish: appetizer of meat and cheese with wine, pasta, soup, meat and potatoes, another pasta, fruit and gelato with coffee, cake with champaigne)Salvatore mentioned to both Simon and Jess that we were welcomed to have a piece of the cake when we had time. Once every dish had been washed and put away, we each had a small piece. I should have seen it coming. Later that night, a scene was made in front of everyone about us eating the cake. I don't want to go totally into it, but it was horribly embarrassing, unfair because he said we could have it, and another way for him to control our every move.
Throughout the six days we lasted on the farm, Salvatore took away from us jam for our bread, coffee, and milk. On the last couple days our breakfast was stale bread and water. WHICH IS WHY WE STAGED AN ESCAPE! A couple of the regular customers got the feeling that we didn't seem very happy at the farm, mostly because we told them we were miserable. They offered to help us in anyway they could. Covertly, we planned with them to pick us up while Salvatore was away for the day in Napoli. In the morning, we ate our prison food and we fed the animals like normal. Then we all sat down and told Salvatore that we were leaving. I have to admit that I was a bit nervous. Samara wanted to end things on a good note so she told Salvatore we were probably going to maybe go to Napoli to do tourist stuff. Salvatore acted confused. How long would we be gone? Were we coming back? So I said, "We aren't working. Any more. Ever." Salvatore said he would drive us to the train station after he got back from Napoli in the evening. We all knew he wouldn't prioritize us and we still needed to escape. Later in the day our two car convoy came to pick us up. I was shaking as we loaded in our backpacks and got in the cars. I could perfectly picture Salvatore's Range Rover skidding to a side halt in front of the one lane road out of the farm and blocking the way. Simon joked that Salvatore would yell, "GIVE ME MY SLAVES BACK!". I think we have seen too many movies.
Our friends took us to a small village at least a half hour drive from Salvatore's farm. The town was cute and quaint and had a bar with beers for one Euro. Still, there was something strange about the town. At an evening dance festival on the last night we were there we noticed that almost everyone had one lazy eye and they all seemed to be cousins. In some ways, we still felt trapped and we were more than ready to catch the train after two days in this small, odd village that I never caught the name of. Simon headed somewhere to meet up with the potential love of his life and Samara, Jess and I went to Rome where we had a fabulous time.
(It isn't part of this story, but I LOVE Rome. Rome is the prettiest city in Europe. It is so clean, trees everywhere, beautiful sites, and the weather was amazing. It was sunny and warm with a touch of fall in the air. I could live in Rome, I could fall in love in Rome.)
