Even the application process seemed to be professionally managed. We were required to fill out a two page form asking about our skills, interests and philosophies. No other host had such an in-depth process and we were impressed at the organization and also optimistic about this being a possible home for us.
Soon after our applications were approved, we received an email requesting that we phone immediately. The host wanted to let us know that due to the fragile mental condition of his wife (who had recently been diagnosed as bi-polar), we might make the trip to his home and find that she would not accept us. Apparently, she had recently gone through a "bad spell" and was quite volatile. A long term volunteer had just decided to leave and it was possible that she would not accept the disturbance in the household that we would cause.
As there were no other hosts in the direct area, we worried that our long and costly travels would be for naught. We arrived late in the evening and our host, a 70 year old British man, picked us up at the bus stop in town. He informed us in his rambling, mumbling, unintelligible way that his "dear wife" had left the house and wanted nothing more to do with him - at least that´s what we think he said. Over the course of the two weeks, we grew so exasperated with his unclear manner of speaking (and this was even after explaining to him that we were having difficulties understanding him) that we fought amongst ourselves to not sit across from him at dinner or in the front seat of the car so we could feign deafness. Before you decide that we are really intolerant, let me point out that the majority of his "talking" was actually a sort of sing-songy repetition of words like "buuuuueno, bueno, bueno, bueno, buuuueno".
With his poor hearing, lack of listening skills, mumbly Spanish and total absorption with the idea that he was going to cure his wife with the use of foods with proper enzymes, we found meal times (which were required to be family style) to be unbearable. A long-time volunteer (6 months?) joined us only for lunch and dinner. This volunteer was a 60-something year old Italian, who was on the run from the mafia for testifying against them in a court case. I swear I don´t make this stuff up. This guy was trying to make a new life for himself in Spain as a cook but hadn´t had any luck finding work in Barcelona. He was a terrifically difficult person who also mumbled when he spoke, smoked like a chimney, did whatever work he felt like doing and didn´t do any work when the boss was away. He spoke no English so meal times were a ridiculous attempt to try to understand each other.
You´d think that a guy who wanted to be a cook would be eager to cook for us, but we couldn´t get him to agree to a cooking schedule. He could only prepare food when he had "inspiration". This meant that neither Michiel nor I (who absolutely CANNOT cook by inspiration) could plan on cooking a certain meal and if we had planned on doing something, we would come into the kitchen to find him marinating a rabbit or who knows what. Yes, we ate well and enjoyed his hand-picked mushrooms, but, unfortunately, he often used too much salt and ruined the food. At times when we did cook, the host informed us during the meal that we should leave some food over for some guests he had neglected to tell us about. Needless to say, nothing ran as professionally as the website or application process led us to expect.
We lived in the old hotel of the thermal resort, which had big holes in the roof and a top floor that was structurally unstable. The hotel had been restored to the point that the ground and first floors were inhabitable and neat but very, very cold. The hotel had no heating and very little, if any, insulation, so we were enormously grateful for the terrific orientation of the building to the south. The glorious sunshine (and there was lots!) warmed up our room during the day and the many solar panels out back ensured that we could take nice warm baths maybe 60 percent of the days. Since it was November, though, the sun dipped early behind the mountains and we had a few days of beautiful (but cold!) frost and snow. Thank goodness for the electric heaters (I know....not very sustainable but much needed before bed and in the morning).
The view from our bedroom
Speaking of sustainability, there was not much sustainable about this project except for the solar hot water and the wood stove. The host complained of very high electric bills but didn´t want to take the steps to identify the problem appliances. Food came completely from the supermarket or from health food stores in Barcelona (over an hour away), though there were still some herbs and potatoes in the nearly frozen soil. Sadly, the thermal waters were far cooler than advertised on the website and the pool was far too cold to swim or soak comfortably.
But despite all of this, the landscape was gorgeous and the work was generally fun. We had great views of a small mountain range to the south and the Pyrenees to the north. Our work hours were spent with a paid employee, a local man, who managed the property. He was a terrific guy with a great sense of humor, a ridiculous amount of energy and total patience with our Spanish. We worked with him cutting down trees, removing fallen leaves, putting manure in the garden beds, and building a rustic fence from tree branches. He and the beautiful views and sunshine were the only reasons we were able to last the two weeks we had committed to.
When we arrived at this host, we were asked to read and sign a sheet of house rules. Amongst them was the expectation that if we stayed for less than two weeks, we might be asked to contribute money for our weekend food consumption. We were also notified that we were not permitted to have coffee from the espresso maker except on weekends and that we had to ask permission before eating anything as the food might be for the restaurant (which received almost no guests at this time of year). When we followed the rules and asked permission, our host looked incredulous. We realized that he had no intentions of actually enforcing these rules.
Outings: hiking to Andorra and biking in the neighborhood
Our time at this host was often very trying. When dining with the host and the other volunteer, we kept our sanity by telling ourselves "this will be funny...later". We had to leave as soon as possible. Physically, the place reminded me of one of those old tuberculosis recovery spas and mentally, well, I couldn´t escape the feeling that we had landed in a mental institution. As the two weeks crawled by, we frantically searched for one last Spanish host who could re-affirm our lifestyle choice and help us get over our disappointment.
As for the area, we had some interaction with the locals in the small town below the "spa" but found the whole region to be dedicated to the summer tourists from Barcelona. Many of the small towns were mostly deserted as they are made up primarily of summer houses for wealthy Barcelonans. Also, as promised, the locals spoke Catalan with each other and all signs were only in Catalan. It felt like we had crossed over into a new country - a country that felt a little abandoned but with here and there touristy ski resort towns. This new country had land prices way beyond our reach. So despite the exceptionally attractive mountains and sunshine, we had to cross this region off our list.
My all-time-favorite vending machine: fresh cow´s milk. The machine on the left dispenses clean bottles. The people are standing in front of a machine that dispenses full or half bottles of local milk
