Tales from the Outhouse
Greetings from a grubby port-a-loo, somewhere in central Japan!
This small, sulphurous outhouse is ours for the next 10 days. Beside it, a stand-alone shower festooned with mould and soap dregs from the last 53 volunteers.
Next to that is our accomodation.
We share it with vagabonding bugs, beetles and the world’s largest self-sustaining colony of dust motes.
Last night, we also shared it with two young guys - one from America, the other from France.
They‘d already been at the farm for a month, and were staying one more night to get their fix of aforementioned luxuries.
So, we four strangers hunkered down on a 4x4m tatami floor, with a few thin futons to sleep on and an assortment of mouldy blankets one might use to protect furniture while moving house, or cover a corpse.
Before lights out, our American roommate Skyped his Ma at approx. 120 decibels while the rest of us enjoyed some quiet reading time. He then called his ex and sang gentle hymns into the speaker with motifs of “baby baby baby” and “I only want one, one”.
He backed up this strong performance with a new trick: sucking back snot so violently I was sure his tonsils would fly down his windpipe, followed by the occasional high-velocity gollie out the door.
This procedure was repeated every five minutes or so until around 6am this morning, when he cleared away his bedding, made space on the floor, and treated body and mind to a course of self-guided yoga and breathing exercises. We were lucky enough to score front row seats, just 30cm away.
The French guy stayed up til 2am on his laptop for a live gaming tournament, but was otherwise unobtrusive.
Needless to say, the first thing we did once we had the place to ourselves was hose down the toilet, shower, kitchen and cutlery. We even put a little vase of flowers on the rusty cooker.
These memorable marvels make our farming adventures all the sweeter, because who ever said: “Hey, remember that night nothing happened and we had a really great sleep?”
No one.