Timber, Meat, and Vegetal Plenitude

So my first week at Canadian Farm has been a fun-filled, action-packed blur of sun, sweat, and steaming mountains of succulent sustenance.  I am well worked, well fed, and growing every step of the way.

Canadian Farm is a dream tucked away in a forested enclave, nestled in the foothills of the mountains of Nagano.  This place is perhaps the most romantic man-made space I've ever encountered.  The main camp consists of half a dozen large timber frame structures and a handful of sheds, cabins, and treehouses.  A large stone oven stands beneath a grassy roof and bellows smoke into the air above the courtyard, coupling with the rich funky smell of cured meat that hangs from every beam and rafter.  A massive timber frame pavilion shelters dried indian corn hanging in rows above a collection of picnic tables and looms over the jungle-gym treehouse that playfully lines the gravel driveway.  Behind every door, tucked away in every nook and cranny one finds musical instruments from every continent, wood carvings, nicknacks, hand tools of every art and persuasion. 

This is where I sleep

The man responsible for making all of this happen, the glue which bonds the seams and corners, the heart and soul of this entire operation is named Haseyan.  Aging, yet vibrantly youthful, he wears a wild mop of sliver hair upon his head and a scraggly beard about his face and neck.  He smiles often, jokes even more, and has a good-natured laugh that resonates from his belly.  He built every building and most everything else at Canadian Farm (I once split wood with an axe he made himself, because other tools are "too easy to break").  In addition to Japanese, he speaks English, French, and at least some Spanish.  He's been to dozens of countries on five continents, and when he travels he takes just the clothes on his back, a small towel, passport, and medicine in case he meets someone who needs it.  Canadian Farm is primarily a restaurant, and Haseyan is the master chef.  Oh, and ya know that stone oven I mentioned earlier?  Yeah, he built that too.

Haseyan suprising me with this pose during our photo op

I get up every morning around 5:30 (without an alarm clock I might add), meet Haseyan, and we're out in the field by 7:30.  We work two hours before coming back for breakfast, which is always enormous.  We work all day, ending at dusk, and spending the peak sunshine hours around the shade of the main camp while Haseyan tends to the lunchtime rush.  I'm working pretty much constantly, but the tasks are always varied, so I never get bored.  So far I've helped repair a greenhouse damaged in a recent typhoon, harvested tomatos, peppers, eggplant, squash, corn, potatos, soybeans, and marigolds, planted garlic, weilded a hoe, helped make and package smoked salmon, split firewood, repaired a brick patio, and much much more.


After work, almost every night they treat me to a trip to an onsen, a hot spring public bath.  With the excpetion of maybe a full body massage, I'm hard pressed to think of a better way to top off a day of hard labor than an hour long soak in a hot bath.  Throw in a trip to the sauna with the occasional dip in a cold pool and I'm feeling fantastic.  At that point, all that's left is another big meal, and then hit the hay.

I am learning a lot, and every day I'm appreciating this experience more and more.  The staff here are very kind and very patient.  My Japanese is improving, and I feel like I'm on the verge of a breakthrough to a new level of competency.  Although most of the people here speak at least  some English, I have lots of opportunities to further my linguistic proficiency. There was another WWOOFer here, a Frenchman named Gregory.  He seemed to me to be a genuinely decent fellow.  He had been here a month already before I arrived, but he left early this afternoon.  I was told that another WWOOFer is coming in a day or so, a girl from Taiwan. 

I've another week here at Canadian Farm before I head back to Tokyo.  Rest assured, faithful followers, many more gems and treasured tales await to be gathered and told.