My time in Quillan at the ecobuild turned out to be much less eco or build than I’d originally thought. Much less eco due to the use of a large amount of cement in the base of the greenhouse we were building, much less build (for me) due to my ridiculously swollen ankle and the subsequent rest required – cue kitchen duties and berry picking.
Despite my change in duties I was very grateful to still be a part of things, having initially thought my accident would mean heading back to England sooner than expected, but I couldn’t help wishing I were more involved from time to time. Though, as time went on and the other volunteers struggled with continual heavy lifting under the direct sun, it seemed that I may almost have had a lucky escape from some of the work that was being done.
My roles over the few weeks consisted of gardening, cleaning the oxidation from poles used in the base of the greenhouse structure, helping in the kitchen, collecting rocks from halfway up the mountain path to use in the base of a sound energy structure (this one began to play on our sanity as we ‘mined’ our rocks in the searing sun). Toward the end of the three weeks as I became more capable I took the role of human mixer, stomping hard soil together with water and later, creating a sand and stone mixture.
Hard on the body and on the mind, our construction was done in French. The architect, a Frenchman who did not enjoy speaking English, displayed amazing patience as he explained concepts, tools and the jobs we needed to do, in French. This was a great experience, though the actual efficiency of the build suffered due to this process.
On afternoons off we took to heading out on mini adventures, with one volunteer owning a motorhome and another owning a van, we would pile in any space available and hit the road. I would love to describe some of the scenery on our drives, there were glimpses of colour, green hills, beautiful houses with brightly coloured window shutters… unfortunately I was not in the prime viewing spot in the back of these vehicles, often laid at some angle or other, and so these little snippets are all I can recall!
Still, I was rewarded with views when we arrived at our destinations. A huge lake beneath mountains that made the best natural swimming pool, with a bright sun, pleasant grass to lie in and an array of picturesque flora for one of the girls to make a flower garland from (and which I was lucky enough to wear).
The whole region surrounding Quillan seemed a hive of activity with social events frequently taking place. We attended a night of drinks, food and music, organised to gather people to take part in a vote of how best to spend community money, several hopefuls pitching their ideas to the crowd. Another evening found us at a summer solstice party in a small village nearby, local bands playing, accompanied by makeshift bar and food stands.
On Sunday, the near, larger town of Esperaza, which hosted a thriving market. A vibrant place, with stalls selling anything from piles of discount or second hand clothes, to those offering handmade items such as wooden cutlery, jewellery or leather works. The main square was packed full of patrons, locals and tourists alike. Music filled every space as a variety of buskers spread among the stalls. A corner with tables spread from the local bar, people enjoying food, drink, music and perhaps a look at the shelves filled with free clothes. It seemed as much a weekly social event as a place for vendors to sell their wares. This was a place brimming with life, colour and inspiration.
Esperaza was itself a beautiful but quiet town. Throughout the rest of the week it was hard to imagine the flurry of activity which took place on those Sundays. You may pass a mere handful of people on some days. The river running through the centre attracting the majority. Vans, caravans, motorhomes seemed drawn to the water’s edge. The rushing water a great place to bathe, or just to stop and listen to the quiet and from time to time watch the birds that would swoop to graze its surface.
Back at our accommodation we found ways to entertain ourselves, spending most of our social time in our outdoor kitchen. Far from the comfiest spot it offered only low wooden benches to sit on, and as time went on, we found the grass surrounding it a more appealing option. Sometimes accompanied by a girl and her guitar, but mostly just content with the natural sounds that encompassed us, we drank countless cups of tea, ate more bread than I care to recall and gazed up at the cloud or star filled sky. I was even lucky enough to enjoy a full fairy tale told in Danish, finding myself captivated by the rhythm of the language.
With the help of another volunteer, I spent some time attempting maintenance on a few rusted bicycles, dragged from the shed in a flurry of dust and cobwebs, tyres having disintegrated over time.
Our outdoor ‘shower’ was a small, square tub, with two walls for privacy and a hose pipe and nozzle to provide the water. This was completed with a picturesque view, green mountains on all sides as dragonflies flitted through the sky.
A camaraderie formed between our small group, two French, a German, a Danish and two English (myself and the only male in our team). Morale was not always high and people were not always satisfied with the workload or the food we were given. All with good hearts, it was a matter of frustration and stress that sometimes brewed emotions to tipping point, with relations between us and the hosts feeling a little fraught from time to time.
Throughout those three weeks I learnt a fair amount of French, even a little Danish, discovered much in the kitchen and in the build process, and I feel that I am still not be aware of all that the experience taught me. And despite the dramas which sometimes made things hard to bare, coping with the mixture of everyone’s passion and despair, I loved living in my small wooden hut able every day to open the door to a colourful wilderness or to the starlit sky above.
