Philosophy in the fields

Today my hands smell like poireaux, leeks. I was at the farm at 7 am, first picking leek shoots and trimming the leaves and roots, and then sitting opposite Fabien on the planting trailer behind the (Massey Ferguson, good Canadian technology!) tractor sticking the shoots, roots up, in the wheel that rotates and plants the leeks. A couple hours of picking and trimming, a pause-cafe with fruit from the farm, organic apple cider, coffee,croissant and brioches. After we planted for an hour and then weeded the melons. Done by 11:30 am, when it was already well over 30 degrees.

And while we pick and plant and weed, the talk is definitely not about the hockey game. Rather, out in the midi sun, my colleagues talk of the impending failure of the capitalist system, of flaws with communism, of the French and European approach to education and socialization of youth. It is all about creating a non-thinking work force, rather than independently thinking citizens who will contribute to improving society. Yet despite all the copying and memorizing of facts that students do here, from 8 am to 5 pm [there is the work-conditioning], most French I have come across are fairly thoughtful, intellectual, philosophical. I add my two bits worth, a bit of Canadian perpective, a bit miscommunication both ways, but it gets us through the morning.


After I pick up Rowan at school and we sit out on a terrrace for a leisurely lunch in Pezenas, listening to the English ex-pats around us and the locals talk about life and properties and children. In the fields Arnaud, who moved here from Lille in the north of France years ago and isn't going back, and I were talking about how the pace of life here is so civilized, so sane and healthy. Everything move a little bit slower. You take 2 hours for lunch and have conversations that aren't just quick instant info bursts, but rather deep and intellectual. In the  afternoons everything shuts  down for 2 or 4 hours, people have siestas, and then slowly life starts up again late in the afternoon when it begins to cool down. How will I ever go back to 45 minutes for lunch! If the field workers were in control of the world we would have solved the world's problems in time for the pause-cafe, and all conflict would stop at 14 heures for a little nap: the wisdom of the fields.