Erasmus+ and permaculture, connection with humans and nature

April 2023, I'm in the midst of a dark, demoralized, stressed, frustrated period. April 1st is the date set for my departure for this fourth Erasmus+ experience. This time, I also lack the energy and the will to leave; I feel there is nothing that can cheer me up. And yet, here I am again on a plane that leaves the ground, destination "Andalucia, Vejer de la Frontera.

Jorge picks me up by car at the Barca de Vejer bus stop. With him are Nessa, from Ireland, and Marzia, a girl from Aosta. The approximately 10-minute journey, illuminated by the orange of the sunset, introduces me to the hilly area where the project on Permaculture would take place. The landscape is beautiful and, dressed in that light, it presents itself in its most classy mise. Nothing, however, seems to be able to penetrate my armour. I participate in the conversation by inertia and, once I arrive at my destination, I dispose of my suitcase and, shortly after, I'm in bed, closing the curtain on another day.

The next morning, the curtain rises and, with it, so do I. Activities and new acquaintances begin. We do a sort of ritual in which each participant sets a goal for the duration of the project. I share my period of frustration with others and, looking around me, I find sympathetic eyes, I hear words of closeness. I'm already a little better. Joanna, Andrew and Jorge introduce us to Andrew's land, 13 hectares arranged on the crest of a hill, from the top down to the valley. Among the various plants, I see the fava beans of which I am particularly greedy. I ask for permission to detach a couple of them and I am granted. Those plants would pay their dues every time I passed, in the days to come. I'm still a little better. We are introduced to permaculture and its founding concepts and, guided by Karim, a project participant from Lebanon, I find examples of those concepts on the land we are treading. Karim, during this activity, becomes my sensei and, from here on, I will address him with that term or with the appellation of Yoda, in honor of one of the most representative figures of the status of Master. As I absorb the principles of permaculture, I find my mind concentrated and intrigued by the subject, more and more distant from the darkness of the previous days. Yes, permaculture is an extremely interesting subject which aims to regenerate a soil following a long period of careful observation. After learning how the land lives without human intervention, only then does the latter begin to relate to the nature that surrounds him, trying to integrate into it, rather than commanding it.

These are just some of the questions that dictate the initial stages of permaculture which in its "manual" poses other very important questions relating to energy supply, minimal waste production and much, much more.

As I learn these new notions, the acquaintance with the other participants, with the facilitators of the project and with the amazing chef Constantino, reaches deeper levels. Each of us has expressed his intent, has opened up and exposed himself to others on his own initiative. Just as happens with permaculture, everyone watched and listened in silence, before tiptoeing into the lives of every other person present. Thus, I find a careful and sweet confidante in Nessa, Irish woman and artist passionate about insects, with her bow on her head, her trademark, and her colorful socks with drawings of fluttering bees. Thus, I find myself listening to and appreciating Marzia's poems, poems that tell of a "grey" so similar to mine. So I find myself playing the guitar while the others sing and Graziano and Filip accompany me with percussion. So I find myself dancing with Sara, Mihaela, Lito, Catherine, Henrique, everyone. Thus, in that dance, I find myself in a bubble with Karim, the sensei, creating our personal dance as if, outside of that bubble, nothing else existed, in a pact stipulated by our eyes which, meeting each other, do not leave until the end of the song. So I found myself embracing little Ana, squeezing her almost like a tube of toothpaste and Gabriel, the Brazilian boy with a beautiful aura, that person with whom you lock eyes and feel more at peace. So I heard the beautiful voice of Merle from Germany singing along with her ukulele. So I laughed at the inexhaustible and not always effective jokes of the Frenchman Thomas. Thus, several times, I have found inspiration in the passion that Jorge's eyes are able to show. So I find myself on the ground, in that train of back rubs fueled by the principle of giving something back when you're lucky enough to receive.

That morning, Jorge summons me and Graziano for an important mission: to collect shovelfuls of cow dung. I've never done it before and the idea doesn't excite me but, since I'm at stake, I decide not to think twice and I accept. We carry shovels, a bucket and a ladder in a field of spontaneous vegetation; it looks like a scene from a movie. We climb over the fence and the oxen and cows move away, leaving their "warm presents" along the way. The collected poop must be warm, so that, later, it can be mixed with water populated by bacteria and microorganisms and white clay, to create "el unguento" that would protect the wounds of the trees, following pruning. I laugh heartily throughout the procedure, while we comment on the "freshness" of the collected dung and, for the first time, I find myself completely in my body, living in the moment, devoid of any other thoughts that did not concern the current mission. I never imagined that in such an activity I could find this feeling. Later, I would thank Jorge for having me in the team and for giving me a new, fun and revealing experience.

As on other occasions, this experience also comes to an end. Hugs, tears, greetings, words are wasted on the lands of the "Cuartilla". It is difficult to explain the emotions one experiences without using some rhetorical figure. Below is the message I sent to the group on my return journey.
“Why do we cry? Why do I cry? I say that I can not find a sense, a direction. Yet, these tears prove otherwise. This emotion, too big to be contained in my human body, so overflowing that it must come out in the form of tears, makes me understand that I am not a desert. Look how it rains...But where does the rain come from, this water that feeds me? If I take off, I can see where it's born, emotions that evaporate and condense in my stomach, right there, where I now feel a knot that extends up to my throat. I drank a lot but I'm still thirsty. I drank a lot and I'm afraid of the drought that may return. For now, I celebrate this rain."

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