Farm Day 8: Sayonara Tobarra!

by Sarah

When I finished mucking out my last stall yesterday I threw up my pitchfork like a graduation hat. I´m sad to be leaving the farm but I do feel a sense of accomplishment like I´ve passed some sort of ¨Foundations of Life¨course.

In fact, Richard and Sue threw a party in honor of the American girl who learned so much during her three weeks on the farm. They cooked paella and everyone told stories about the Americans’ first day – “straight in from Manhattan,” as they like to say — when we squealed when we walked behind the horses, yelled things like, “turd overboard!” when a shit ball rolled out of the wheel barrow, took pictures like Asian paparazzi and threw away things like melon rinds, unaware that chickens will eat anything.

The party got rowdier and Sue moved on to stories about past Wwoofers – like the Frenchman they caught ¨shagging¨ a horse (they chased him out of the barn with a pitch fork), the Israeli who said, “Heil Hitler!” to the German Wwoof every time she passed and the 18 year-old North Carolinian whose Mom emailed Sue every single night to make sure her boy was OK (He was. He met a Canadian Wwoofer and lost his virginity that summer). And after Sue had thoroughly checked to make sure I wasn’t a “typically PC American” she brought out the YouTube video “Achmed the Dead Terrorist”.

Sue told us that female Spanish riders in traditional clothes are taught to use their hands elegantly to ¨pick an apple, eat the apple and then toss the apple away¨. We´re practicing for our days as professionals.

It was a grand time and after about 10 glasses of wine Richard got out their traditional Flaminco dresses and let the girls get all dolled up and ride around on the horses. We were just thankful Richard could still direct the animals after his whiskey dessert.

I´ve never put my hand around such a large belly! We like to call him our little potbellied jefe. Richard does have control of his horses though, even when inebriated.

Hey, I can kindof ride now! Does this make me employable back in the US??

I am sad to be leaving the peaceful life I have here. But my parents are meeting me and P in Madrid tomorrow and I need some maternal TLC in return for all the love I bestowed upon that damn goat. After weeks of bringing her treats of exotic leaves and almond skins and scratching her belly, by my last day she was calm and nuzzling into me, producing a bowl and a half of milk, no problem. Turns out she just didn’t like being manhandled by Mans, who took a “no bulshit” approach to milking.

So, good-bye farm. Look how many new skills I have to put on my NYC resume now!

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About sistersbailey

We are Perrin and Sarah Bailey, collectively known as “The Sisters Bailey”. The moniker was born out of a crazy weekend at the 2009 New Orleans Jazz Fest and it was the first time we had ever been referred to as one unit. We grew up in Alexandria, VA together and then separated for college - Perrin to The University of Pennsylvania and Sarah to Northwestern University – and somehow landed together in New York after graduation. It was in the midst of the hustle of Manhattan that we became friends for the first time in years. Somehow we landed jobs in the same industry - Sarah worked in marketing at HBO and Perrin managed creative digital promotions for her media agency’s main client, Disney - just three blocks from one another. One day we decided to leave our jobs, sell our belongings and travel abroad with a backpack and a collective savings of $10K. The stories of our continuing adventures and those of other fearless travelers are here to inspire you.
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One Response to Farm Day 8: Sayonara Tobarra!

  1. Pingback: Top 30 Travel Moments | Sisters Bailey Blog

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