Ecuador: The Farm, Robots and Swimming in Chemicals....

I crawled slowly through the field on my hands and knees in the Ecudorian rain, pulling up weeds as I went with wet mud seeping through my clothes. Occassionally, I stopped to scratch an itch, hoping not to contract a tick from the surrounding long grass and thought “Why am I doing this again?” I was nearing the end of my first week of working as a volunteer on an organic farm in Ecuador and was definitely finding the physical work exhausting and in sharp contrast to the ethos I have been strictly following thus far on my trip of “Do nothing”. For eight months I have not had to follow any kind of routine, have done whatever I’ve wanted to with no need to act responsible or be accountable to anyone (not even Jesus). Therefore, having to get up at 5:40am each day to commence work, waiting for a bell to ring to announce when my meals are ready and only leaving the confinement of the farm at weekends has been both difficult and totally crazy.



Me and the other volunteers, I am the good-looking one at the front.


At first, I also struggled with the diet served on the farm, breakfast consists of fruit and lunch and dinner primarily equals rice and beans. The food is all organic, and apart from the occasional suicidal bug is all vegetarian too. Now, I’m no doctor, so let me draw upon facts, bare meagre facts verified by books and figures of which there can be no doubt. Based on this diet of mainly rice and beans, devoid of any chemicals, a team of doctors conducting mass physicals on the farm might find us all dead within a month. “It appears this one died of a rice overdose”, Dr. Hardbody might exclaim whilst examining my limp lifeless hand which in Da Vinci Code style is pointing at a bowl of rice. He looks at Julie, “This one in the orange rain coat appears to have consumed too many beans. What a mess!”

After week two on the farm however, I think I am adapting. My muscles had less spasms this week and the fantasy I regularly engaged in during week one of happily immersing myself and doing the backstroke in a large vat of chemicals has been drawn upon less. Perhaps the ethos of Dario, the small moustached Ecuadorian man who runs the farm and talks about “his vision” is rubbing off on me, or perhaps I have been brainwashed? Who cares either way? Yawn. Dario, is a mild mannered pleasant man who chooses to dress from head to foot in white (even his wellington boots are white), which is a highly impractical fashion choice for shovelling shit and feeding pigs although it leaves him ready for competing in Wimbledon all year round.


The farm, is located about 8 hours by bus from Quito (the capital) and has been in operation since the 1970’s. In terms of respecting the environment, it is a pretty unique albeit extreme place. We eat off plates made from fruit, which are disinfected in grapefruit juice, the toilet paper and all cleaning products are biodegradable, electricity is solar powered, there is no hot water, animals are given priority over humans and are even played classical music in the mornings to “relax them” and chemicals of any kind are never ever used. Now, when I am on my knees pulling up weeds in the rain or being told to take my time and make sure I plant the crops with “positive energy”, a yearning to use chemicals either on the plants or indeed myself fills me and my mind wanders. Chemicals make things grow faster, bigger and makes things more aesthetically pleasing, so why not combine the use of chemicals with robotics and create a whole new race, I wonder? The result could would be an altogether more attractive and interesting new breed of people, imagine the possibilities! We could have humans with unbelievably pert bums and inbuilt ice machines or men with perfectly chiseled jawlines who can also pick up a wi-fi connection and reach to the bar using their extra long extendable arms! Perhaps I should mention my vision to Dario this week?



Eating with the natural humans.



I would much rather be having breakfast with this guy!

There are eight of us volunteers in total consisting of five girls and three boys from the US, Germany and Sweden, I fall into the “girl” category. As we work together weeding or breaking rocks up during the week and eat our rationed food, we wonder if we are in some kind of prison, rehab or whether it’s fat camp? At weekends we are released into the local town invariably to spend the weekend consuming as much toxin filled crap as possible. I bit into a burger on Friday night and a kind of wild feeling came over me. Meat had never tasted so good and the chemical treated vegetables made my mouth water.



Mutant vegetables? Yes please!

Other workers on the farm consist of some native Ecuadorians whom I will sometimes chat with whilst we are machetting crops, making barbed wire fences or breaking rocks, light work, that kind of thing. Ecuadorians who get married young, practically whilst still in the uterus, seem to have a short list of questions they want to ask and I have lost count at how many conversations I have had with them that have gone like this...

Ecuadorian man: What is your name?

Me: Niamh.

Ecuadorian man: Niff.

Me: Niamh

Ecuadorian man: Niff, Niff.

Me: More or less.

Ecuadorian man: Do you like to dance?

Me: Sometimes.

Ecuadorian man: Do you like music?

Me: Yes.

Ecuadorian man: Are you married?

Me: No.

Ecuadorian man: How old are you?

Me: Thirty.

Ecuadorian man: (Gasps in horror and shakes head) Thirty and not married?

Conversation ends.

A local woman sat beside Julie on a bus and had that very same conversation with her only hers ended like this.

Local woman: It’s too late for you.


In other ways, Ecuadorians appear quite reserved and somewhat shy. At fiestas for example the dance floor will typically remain clear for a long time with people just staring at one another as they sit on the sidelines, no one wants to make the first move. When they do eventually dance with one another they look anywhere but directly at the person they are dancing with, over their shoulders or at their feet, but never in the eyes, which is apparently considered a come on.



Good job you can’t see my eyes, you’d be helpless.

So, although it is hard work, I am enjoying life on the farm and will enjoy life off the farm all the more when I eventually leave it. I will be happy when the end of next week comes and I can get back on the road. Colombia awaits and I hear they have chemicals there! Working on the farm has definately been a good and eye opening experience and I ask myself if I will take any lessons from my time there, perhaps change the way I live when I get home, eat an all organic diet, grow my own vegetables? The answer is "no". Although I will be more aware of how farming works and have more questions about it now, the ways of the farm are idealistic and work well in Ecuador in that particular site, but it would be next to impossible to live like that at home. However, it has been an experience I will not forget, or maybe I will with the use of chemicals. What was I talking about again?