Showing posts with label Gubbeen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gubbeen. Show all posts
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Days at Gubbeen are dwindling but I'm not inspired to write, I think my mind is too focused on the crazy traveling that lies ahead to really think much more of this place that has eased me so seamlessly into life on the road. To add to this distraction of trains and planes and buses, there is also the latest distraction of the 2010 World Cup. Starting on Thursday night there seemed to be a soccer explosion and suddenly all the TV channels and newspapers were dripping with news and lineups and speculations about the games. It's hard not to get sucked in (at least a little).
Monday, June 7, 2010
Not all happy cows come from California
6/7:
Even when the curtains are drawn I still know they're there because I can hear the soft munching next to my window. The tender grass around my trailer is all being pulled out at the moment by the 130 cows that make up the Gubbeen herd. I'm nibbling on some oak smoked cheese of theirs as I write this, looking out at the happy cows chewing away at the buttercup-covered field. I'm thinking about the story Giana told me yesterday:
It all happened a few years ago when the Irish drug trade was doing very well (as it still is to this day) in a small inlet just a few miles away from Gubbeen. The drug traffickers had brought a particularly large shipment in to one of the many hidden coves along the coast but just as they were about to reach shore their small dingy capsized, setting huge table-sized bales of cocaine afloat on the Atlantic. After one of them mistakenly called for help, the guards (police) intercepted the call and arrested two of the men. The other men however were nowhere to be found. (This of course is not surprising considering the sprawling countryside with endless shrubs and ditches to hide in.)
Anyway, it was not until about two days after this incident at around eight in the morning that Tom let out the cows as he does every single day. The herd filled the road just in time as two strangers came walking up the road. The men wore funny clothing, hats and wellies, the sort of all-weather gear that sailors would wear.
But luckily, being surrounded by country people here at Gubbeen, a suspicious neighbor had already called in the guards when he saw how clean their wellies were, for these were certainly not farming folk. Within minutes, the guards arrived and the two men who were by now completely surrounded by Gubbeen cows had nowhere to go.
Now that's what I call a civil arrest!!
Even when the curtains are drawn I still know they're there because I can hear the soft munching next to my window. The tender grass around my trailer is all being pulled out at the moment by the 130 cows that make up the Gubbeen herd. I'm nibbling on some oak smoked cheese of theirs as I write this, looking out at the happy cows chewing away at the buttercup-covered field. I'm thinking about the story Giana told me yesterday:
It all happened a few years ago when the Irish drug trade was doing very well (as it still is to this day) in a small inlet just a few miles away from Gubbeen. The drug traffickers had brought a particularly large shipment in to one of the many hidden coves along the coast but just as they were about to reach shore their small dingy capsized, setting huge table-sized bales of cocaine afloat on the Atlantic. After one of them mistakenly called for help, the guards (police) intercepted the call and arrested two of the men. The other men however were nowhere to be found. (This of course is not surprising considering the sprawling countryside with endless shrubs and ditches to hide in.)
Anyway, it was not until about two days after this incident at around eight in the morning that Tom let out the cows as he does every single day. The herd filled the road just in time as two strangers came walking up the road. The men wore funny clothing, hats and wellies, the sort of all-weather gear that sailors would wear.
But luckily, being surrounded by country people here at Gubbeen, a suspicious neighbor had already called in the guards when he saw how clean their wellies were, for these were certainly not farming folk. Within minutes, the guards arrived and the two men who were by now completely surrounded by Gubbeen cows had nowhere to go.
Now that's what I call a civil arrest!!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Bantry
6/4:
You have to blink a few times to remind yourself you're still in the same century if you arrive in Bantry on the first Friday of the month. The main plaza is full of people. Nearby, a horse is tied to a lamppost while at its feet a noisy cage crammed with chickens has a pricetag on it. Another man rides his horse through the square, announcing the price while a woman bargains over the cost of her two puppies with a customer. Knick knacks are everywhere and you can buy everything from Gubbeen cheese and sausage to wellies to fox traps to tomato seedlings to chicken feed to old watches and sandwich presses.
You have to blink a few times to remind yourself you're still in the same century if you arrive in Bantry on the first Friday of the month. The main plaza is full of people. Nearby, a horse is tied to a lamppost while at its feet a noisy cage crammed with chickens has a pricetag on it. Another man rides his horse through the square, announcing the price while a woman bargains over the cost of her two puppies with a customer. Knick knacks are everywhere and you can buy everything from Gubbeen cheese and sausage to wellies to fox traps to tomato seedlings to chicken feed to old watches and sandwich presses.
Chicks
6/4:
Chicken jobs seem to follow me where I go. First at Pie Ranch I was an egg collector, then at Full Belly a chicken catcher and now again here I'm a chick hatcher. Every morning I go into the "chick shed" to check our incubators for signs of life.
Half the room is already taken up by a flurry of feathers and a chorus of peeping from all the tiny chicks that have already emerged from their shels. But on the other side are all the eggs that are just waiting to hatch tiny balls of wings and beak.
I check them with excitement, watching, waiting for a crack or a hole, anything. I spritz them with water regularly to help the little ones along until finally, a crack! I pick up the soft, cream colored egg and tap it gently with my finger. A soft peeping tickles my ear and I feel a wiggle. Carefully, I put it down and wait a few more hours. When I come back, I find a wet, disgruntled little mass that's supposed to be a chick. To me it looks more likea hairball that a cat spit out. I gently pick it up and place the fragile body into the second incubator so its feathers can fluff up a bit.
After another half day, the chick is ready to join his flock mates. I place him carefully inside the cage and he stares around at the bigger chicks as if it were his first day of school.
Chicken jobs seem to follow me where I go. First at Pie Ranch I was an egg collector, then at Full Belly a chicken catcher and now again here I'm a chick hatcher. Every morning I go into the "chick shed" to check our incubators for signs of life.
Half the room is already taken up by a flurry of feathers and a chorus of peeping from all the tiny chicks that have already emerged from their shels. But on the other side are all the eggs that are just waiting to hatch tiny balls of wings and beak.
I check them with excitement, watching, waiting for a crack or a hole, anything. I spritz them with water regularly to help the little ones along until finally, a crack! I pick up the soft, cream colored egg and tap it gently with my finger. A soft peeping tickles my ear and I feel a wiggle. Carefully, I put it down and wait a few more hours. When I come back, I find a wet, disgruntled little mass that's supposed to be a chick. To me it looks more likea hairball that a cat spit out. I gently pick it up and place the fragile body into the second incubator so its feathers can fluff up a bit.
After another half day, the chick is ready to join his flock mates. I place him carefully inside the cage and he stares around at the bigger chicks as if it were his first day of school.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Abracadabra
Gubbeen is full of secrets. Little nooks to hide in, beautiful tidbits, bizarre animals, exciting adventures. Yesterday while brining cheese, I discovered the most beautiful etching in a pane of glass. A man slowly evolving into a frog. It struck me as very fitting, for in a place as magical as this, a transformation so bizarre as that seems perfectly natural.
Monday, May 31, 2010
A day of whey
5/31:
My first day was absolutely fantastic. Despite my excitement for work, my jetlag really took over and I didn't wake until around 11am so I started work late (Rosie had said to sleep in as much as I wanted). I went to the dairy straight away and was directed by Eileen to go upstairs to the cheese-making room. I donned a white apron, white wellies, a hairnet and a pair of green rubber gloves before entering through the glass doors. Inside, Eileen shouted out the names of the workers over the roar coming from the big vats of curds and whey but I didn't catch a word so I just smiled and nodded. The room was small and about a quarter of the space was taken up by the two big vats but there was room for about three stainless-steel tables. I was taken up to one of them where I met Linda, a pretty black-haired young woman who was very very sweet. We worked together at the table which was piled high with molds. Our job was to one by none take the weights and the lid off before banging the mold to loosen the cheese so we could flip it over. When the cheese was flipped we put the lid and weights back on and started on the next mold. The women moved quickly but my inexperienced hands worked about half as slow. Nevertheless, in a matter of minutes the whole table was miraculously done! After this I walked back downstairs to la bel all the cheese for a few orders until the second batch was ready to be put into molds. When I was done I again went pustairs where the women were already scooping curds into more molds. I washed my arms carefully from shoulder to finger with warm water and soap before walking over to the tubs and sinking my arm in alongside Linda. The warm yellow whey felt so good against my skin as I fished my mold around to collect the tiny soft pieces of whey. After about twenty minutes of scooping and filling most of the curds were gone so we went back to flipping the cheese. Outside the rain drizzled and two beautiful white geese stood and watched us work as their fuzzy yellow-gray goslings goofed around nearby. After this great morning, the ladies took off for lunch so I stayed behind to eat lunch with Tom, Rosie and Brennan. We ate together for about an hour until it was time to get back to work. Tom took off to finish pouring cement on the roof of Fingal's new house (it's going to be a grass roof) while Rosie went to go weed Clovis' garden and Brennan went to check on the pregnant cows. I headed back to the dairy where I met Derek Darius who vaguely reminds me of a polish version of Manuel from Fawlty towers. He's a funny little man with thick fingers and an even thicker neck who laughs a lot and makes lots of noises to supplement his mediocre English (mediocre is generous). When he first met me, he kissed my hand and just said "from Poland" with a wave of his hand. We spent the afternoon together laughing in "the dungeon" while washing mold off of the wax of the smoked Gubbeen cheeses. After an afternoon of washing and carrying heavy cheese the day was over so I changed out of my boots, apron and gloves and walked back to my trailer (I'll call it Browny?) only to find that the road was full of cows! But no matter, at least the smell of cows is infinitelty better than the smell of pigs.
My first day was absolutely fantastic. Despite my excitement for work, my jetlag really took over and I didn't wake until around 11am so I started work late (Rosie had said to sleep in as much as I wanted). I went to the dairy straight away and was directed by Eileen to go upstairs to the cheese-making room. I donned a white apron, white wellies, a hairnet and a pair of green rubber gloves before entering through the glass doors. Inside, Eileen shouted out the names of the workers over the roar coming from the big vats of curds and whey but I didn't catch a word so I just smiled and nodded. The room was small and about a quarter of the space was taken up by the two big vats but there was room for about three stainless-steel tables. I was taken up to one of them where I met Linda, a pretty black-haired young woman who was very very sweet. We worked together at the table which was piled high with molds. Our job was to one by none take the weights and the lid off before banging the mold to loosen the cheese so we could flip it over. When the cheese was flipped we put the lid and weights back on and started on the next mold. The women moved quickly but my inexperienced hands worked about half as slow. Nevertheless, in a matter of minutes the whole table was miraculously done! After this I walked back downstairs to la bel all the cheese for a few orders until the second batch was ready to be put into molds. When I was done I again went pustairs where the women were already scooping curds into more molds. I washed my arms carefully from shoulder to finger with warm water and soap before walking over to the tubs and sinking my arm in alongside Linda. The warm yellow whey felt so good against my skin as I fished my mold around to collect the tiny soft pieces of whey. After about twenty minutes of scooping and filling most of the curds were gone so we went back to flipping the cheese. Outside the rain drizzled and two beautiful white geese stood and watched us work as their fuzzy yellow-gray goslings goofed around nearby. After this great morning, the ladies took off for lunch so I stayed behind to eat lunch with Tom, Rosie and Brennan. We ate together for about an hour until it was time to get back to work. Tom took off to finish pouring cement on the roof of Fingal's new house (it's going to be a grass roof) while Rosie went to go weed Clovis' garden and Brennan went to check on the pregnant cows. I headed back to the dairy where I met Derek Darius who vaguely reminds me of a polish version of Manuel from Fawlty towers. He's a funny little man with thick fingers and an even thicker neck who laughs a lot and makes lots of noises to supplement his mediocre English (mediocre is generous). When he first met me, he kissed my hand and just said "from Poland" with a wave of his hand. We spent the afternoon together laughing in "the dungeon" while washing mold off of the wax of the smoked Gubbeen cheeses. After an afternoon of washing and carrying heavy cheese the day was over so I changed out of my boots, apron and gloves and walked back to my trailer (I'll call it Browny?) only to find that the road was full of cows! But no matter, at least the smell of cows is infinitelty better than the smell of pigs.
Gubbeen at last
5/30:
I immediately show my true colors -- when Rosie picks me up we walk up to her little white car and I go straight for the right side. She smiles and I sheepishly walk around to get in on the left side. Kipper the bulldog is in the back and he greets me with a big doggy smile. The drive is nearly an hour and a half but it goes by in a flash for me. We pass countless towns, each beautiful and quaint with cobblestone streets and tiny colorful houses jammed together. I want to stop at each town. Rosie keeps apologizing for the fact that there's no roadway btu I assure her that I ADORE the tiny country roads and little sights we get to see. The radio quietly plays opera and Irish music as we cruise through green in a light misty sprinkle of rain. We finally round a corner and I see ocean, we've arrived at Schull and we pull off the road to see Tom at the Farmer's market. I shake his rouch hand and he feeds me salami with pistachio in it while Rosie hands me slices of Gubbeen. We stop at the stand next door to buy some Irish soda bread which looks dark and hefty. After getting two gourmet burgers at another stand we chew and swallow as we walk the main (and only) street of Schull. There is a film festival going on this weekend so the town is covered in blue and yellow confetti and streamers. We say hi to everyone that passes. In just the one street there are probably about 4 or 5 pubs. Rosie promises we'll go. We pass a bookstore, fish monger, grocery store, pharmacy, health food store and a handful of other stores before we come to the end. We turn around to get the car and then we drive for a few minutes until we get to Gubbeen House. We turn off the main road and enter through a beautiful wooded area that opens up to reveal a fairytale bunch of buildings. More cobblestones cover the ground and 300 year old buildings make it look like I've just stepped into a postcard. I can see why people believe in fairies, gnomes and leprechauns around here.
I take my bags over to my luxurious trailer (with electricity, hot water and even a bathroom!) which looks out to a buttercup-covered field.
After changing shoes Rosie takes me to tour the farm. The smell of cows scents the air gently as we walk the paths until we reach the dairy. The smell of cheese, brine, whey and salt fill the air. We pass hundreds of cheese rounds and I get more and more excited about my first day tomorrow. We meet Rose who comes every Sunday to brine and wash all the cheeses. After our tour of the dairy Rosie takes me to see the animals. A handful of chickens peck around the yard and a huge goose with a shining orange beak hisses viciously at us. Rosie sends a kick in his direction and he quiets down. We pass in to the incubator room where a rucous of peeping comes from dozens of chicks. Back outside peacocks strut about as we walk over to see the newborn calves, ducklings and piglets. Then Tom invites me for dinner and we eat delicious lemon sole, chips, and peas. I meet Rosie's boyfriend Brennan and then almost collapse from exhaustion on my way back home. The door of my trailer has barely closed before I land on the bed fast asleep.
I immediately show my true colors -- when Rosie picks me up we walk up to her little white car and I go straight for the right side. She smiles and I sheepishly walk around to get in on the left side. Kipper the bulldog is in the back and he greets me with a big doggy smile. The drive is nearly an hour and a half but it goes by in a flash for me. We pass countless towns, each beautiful and quaint with cobblestone streets and tiny colorful houses jammed together. I want to stop at each town. Rosie keeps apologizing for the fact that there's no roadway btu I assure her that I ADORE the tiny country roads and little sights we get to see. The radio quietly plays opera and Irish music as we cruise through green in a light misty sprinkle of rain. We finally round a corner and I see ocean, we've arrived at Schull and we pull off the road to see Tom at the Farmer's market. I shake his rouch hand and he feeds me salami with pistachio in it while Rosie hands me slices of Gubbeen. We stop at the stand next door to buy some Irish soda bread which looks dark and hefty. After getting two gourmet burgers at another stand we chew and swallow as we walk the main (and only) street of Schull. There is a film festival going on this weekend so the town is covered in blue and yellow confetti and streamers. We say hi to everyone that passes. In just the one street there are probably about 4 or 5 pubs. Rosie promises we'll go. We pass a bookstore, fish monger, grocery store, pharmacy, health food store and a handful of other stores before we come to the end. We turn around to get the car and then we drive for a few minutes until we get to Gubbeen House. We turn off the main road and enter through a beautiful wooded area that opens up to reveal a fairytale bunch of buildings. More cobblestones cover the ground and 300 year old buildings make it look like I've just stepped into a postcard. I can see why people believe in fairies, gnomes and leprechauns around here.
I take my bags over to my luxurious trailer (with electricity, hot water and even a bathroom!) which looks out to a buttercup-covered field.
After changing shoes Rosie takes me to tour the farm. The smell of cows scents the air gently as we walk the paths until we reach the dairy. The smell of cheese, brine, whey and salt fill the air. We pass hundreds of cheese rounds and I get more and more excited about my first day tomorrow. We meet Rose who comes every Sunday to brine and wash all the cheeses. After our tour of the dairy Rosie takes me to see the animals. A handful of chickens peck around the yard and a huge goose with a shining orange beak hisses viciously at us. Rosie sends a kick in his direction and he quiets down. We pass in to the incubator room where a rucous of peeping comes from dozens of chicks. Back outside peacocks strut about as we walk over to see the newborn calves, ducklings and piglets. Then Tom invites me for dinner and we eat delicious lemon sole, chips, and peas. I meet Rosie's boyfriend Brennan and then almost collapse from exhaustion on my way back home. The door of my trailer has barely closed before I land on the bed fast asleep.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Gubbeen is near
Ireland draws closer and now I'm scrambling to pack and get everything ready for the trip. Little things here and there are starting to make this almost imaginary trip more tangible. Most importantly, Giana of Gubbeen Cheese wrote me and instructed me to take the Schull bus to Skibbereen where I will finally be picked up by the Gubbeen crew. In total this makes my trip have four legs: SFO-BOS, BOS-DUB, Dublin to Cork, and finally Cork to Skibbereen. Phew!
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