Living.Vicariously.Through: What Happens When There's No TV...

What we had hoped would be about 2 weeks of WWOOFing looks more like 6 days. But we’re happy with whatever time we get, as this wasn’t what we expected at all. We had in mind that we’d be helping with some manual labor, cleaning, maybe repairing a few things. Instead, we have been asked to do little to nothing in exchange for a place to sleep, delicious home-cooked food, and extreme kindness.

We realized shortly after our arrival that the family had no real intention of having us work. They were only interested in sharing their space with us, making sure we had more than enough food to eat, and relaxing. And they expected us to do the same. So we have slept in. We have read books. We have eaten three square meals a day. We sit by a fire every night, joined by the old couple who also live in the compound (I will call it this as it has a wall surrounding the entire premises), and we listen to them talk. Occasionally Li Qiao (the man who accepted our request to come wwoof with them) will explain to us what they are speaking about, but usually we just listen and watch the fire.

There’s no TV here. I haven’t heard a radio. All laptops have been tucked away in bags for days, to be replaced by books for leisure reading instead. There are ipods, but the only one with buds sunk deep in her ears with any regularity is Li Ling, the 13 year old. Even the ringing of cell phones has all but ceased here. It’s nice. It’s removed. It’s slow and comfortable and reminds me of a time, not all that long ago, when we all once survived without a steady barrage of electronically induced stimuli.

Our days consist of doing some light chores around the compound, eating, and sitting. Steve and I have gotten a few runs in together, which has been nice for so many reasons. The scenery is calming and lovely in the early shades of dusk while we trot along, trying to remind our bodies of what it once was like not so long ago, before the accident, when we moved with regularity.

Our evenings consist of sitting down to dinner, then sitting around a fire. We pull chairs around the old metal bowl in the center of the bricked courtyard and we sit. And they talk. And they laugh. And we listen. We watch the fire and we listen. Sometimes we are included, but mostly we listen. All members of the family are present and at some point in the evening the old couple who help tend the compound also come to join.

I like this so much because it reminds me that not all family time has to be centered around a TV or an event. It can rather be something as simple as a fire in the courtyard to keep the mosquitoes away that brings everyone together. There is tea to be sipped, and sometimes, homemade fruit wine, and cigarettes are handed out freely to all that want them.

Topics of conversation have included such things as who is the father of the baby bunnies, tales of grandma’s favorite cock that was murdered, herbal medicines, bats, and what blood type attracts mosquitoes the most. These are the things that matter here with no TV or computers to relate the outside world news, which would mean little to nothing here anyway. Who so and so is dating or what the president did today just isn’t a factor in life here. And that’s something that I treasure about my time here. Something that I will miss once we’re gone.

We leave Friday, back to Shanghai. Friday will come too soon. This has been for sure an unusual WWOOFing experience in the sense of what WWOOFing is supposed to be. But it’s one that I cannot imagine altering in any way. What incredibly special people to open their home to us over their holiday time and let us into their slow and unusual life. What a special gift indeed, when one can be reminded of some of the things that happen when there is no TV.