When I set out to publish my thoughts and ramblings. I immediately created an empty page with the title “Work in exchange for food and accommodation”. I knew that this was something I had to write about. One could say it’d become a core part of who I am. It’s strange to say this as I’m nowhere near as experienced as others who practically live in this realm of the world. And yet it’s become such a central part of the way I think and the way I live my life.
What is a work exchange? Some people who know a little about this lifestyle might then say “Ohhh you mean woofing” or “ Like Workaway?”. Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. But for anyone reading who still doesn’t really know what I’m talking about. In essence, you look through a list of posts where in exchange for food and accommodation you help out with whatever help they are looking for. This could be farm work, hospitality, childcare etc.
Right, so that all sounds cool, like something a student who has a gap year might want to do. Yes but… it’s so much more. For me, volunteering is an alternate way of life. Some people use it as a way to travel cheaply. But in truth, if you find the right places, it can be so much more.
I was standing on a hill looking over a valley where an oak tree stood still in the mist of the morning and in that moment I was at peace. Was it the land that was cradling me in her bosom that was bringing me this rare and beautiful moment of just being? In part yes. But the fact that I hadn’t touched or thought about money in the last two months was an even bigger factor. I didn’t have to think about the cost of ingredients as I never had to purchase my food. On top of that, I was going to bed every day with the greatest sense of fulfilment. I went to bed having done a good day’s worth of work. And of course, waking up and greeting the birds around me, walking barefoot in the field and taking a stroll in the forest to pick some mushrooms played a huge part as well.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been to the weird and dubious gigs too. My bunk bed in a tiny boat house came crashing down on a fellow work exchange who was sleeping under me. And that was the funny part of the gig and not the uncomfortable I need to come up with an excuse to leave early part. But this side of the experience also taught me something. You see, what I realized while standing on that hill looking down at the oak, feeling all peaceful and full of love, was that I really didn’t like the idea of money. I didn’t like the way we were told we should live our lives. And I was starting to realize why that was the case. I ended up on that hill because I was stuck outside of the country I was living in because… I actually don’t know why. The lawyers didn’t know why, and so I decided that it was because someone at the immigration office of Canada just lost my paperwork. If this all sounds confusing to you, well I’m sorry. But the world is a crazy place especially if you’re someone like me who chooses to not follow the main path. Often you find yourself falling through the cracks of the system just like my work permit renewal application. But thanks to that and the company which I was working for obviously not wanting to keep me on as the project that we so lovingly shipped had failed to profit enough to make it a viable endeavor to continue, thanks to all that, I found myself where I needed to be even if it meant being at the mercy of uncomfortable or dangerous situations. And that brought me to the realization that I wasn’t made for this world that we’ve built around ourselves. This prevalent narrative was written by people who aren’t like me and it does not have space for the spectrum that is humanity. This narrative of money, ownership, value and worth. What I found on that hill away from it all was that I had a narrative too. My narrative was hidden within me just like my voice and my dance. All these things which the prevalent narrative told me I didn’t have. It told me I was a 3D environment artist who was about to lose their job. It told me that I was lucky to be hired as a dishwasher as I had no prior experience. It told me to be scared as I was going to find out what it was like to be poor. “No” said the oak tree. “No” said the nettle and “No” said the people who choose to write their own narrative.
And here I sit writing held by my partner who has been supporting me this year when I’m not out there working for food and accommodation. My story is still being shaped and I don’t know how it will end. But I do know that my years feel fuller and I’ve never felt more alive. And despite the fear that still lies within me, when the day comes when my bank is empty and I have no roof over my head, I know that my work exchange community will be there to hold me.
Looking for places to work exchange at?
– Karma Hostel, Martvili, Georgia
– Common Knowledge Center, Co Clare, Ireland
– The Dreaming, Wales, UK
Know of a great place? Let me know in the comments 🙂
Leave a Reply