By Gabi Logan

For travelers with itchy feet and empty pockets, WWOOFing sounds like the perfect opportunity. You can stay for free (with food included) amid such picturesque rural locations as olive orchards in Italy on cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean, rolling hills covered with lavender in the south of France, and blossoming cherry orchards in Japan.

“Sign me up!” you may be thinking, and while there are few drawbacks–you’ll even get a great tan–WWOOFing is not something you should rush into.

WWOOFing essentially means having your home, job, and social life all confined to one, often isolated, place and a handful of people. Wouldn’t you thoroughly check out the situation before accepting a job or signing a lease on an apartment?

Ask these key questions before confirming your WWOOFing stay to make sure that you–and your host–are happy with the arrangement.

What do you want to get out of the experience?

This is the only question to ask yourself and not your host, but it’s a biggie. Do you want to learn a skill like how to make cheese or garden organically or prepare artisanal marmalade? Or are you just looking for a new kind of work exchange experience or free room and board for a few months? 

The WWOOF organization is very staunch about the fact that WWOOFing is a knowledge and cultural exchange, not just a work for lodging quid pro quo. The President of the Italian WWOOF association, Claudio Pozzi, relayed to me that “if there is not sharing and exchange, the relationship becomes one of subordination, and that is the domain of other organizations. I want to reiterate that [for us] work is not a form of payment for hospitality.”

If you are not keen on learning something from your experience, whether it is specifically about organic farming or more generally about your host’s language, culture, or lifestyle, WWOOFing is probably not the best match for you. Look into a more general work exchange network like HelpX (http://www.helpx.net/).

What type of work goes on when you’ll be visiting?

Some WWOOF hosts are technically on top of things, providing a Google calendar outlining what type of work goes on each week or spelling out a rough overview of the main focus of each season in their WWOOF listing. Even in these cases, and especially when this information is not available, it’s worth discussing the planned projects with your host before confirming your stay. Otherwise you may find yourself sterilizing barrels and presses at a winery for a month instead of actually learning how to make wine, or bundling hay for three weeks instead of learning to make goat cheese as happened to a fellow WWOOFer.

When will you work?

Life in the countryside begins early. Whether there are animals that need to be fed, vegetables that need to be picked and packed for the market, or difficult labors to be finished before the midday heat sets in, you’ll probably be expected to start at 8 a.m. at the latest. Check on the typical morning hours with your host so you don’t find yourself in a place where work starts at 6 a.m. when you’ve never managed to get up before 8 or 9 in your entire life. Likewise, check which days your host expects you to work. A five day work week is not the norm on a farm, though religious households typically take a day off as a matter of course. Be clear up front if you expect to travel on the weekends.

How long will you be expected to work?

Before I embarked on my first WWOOFing experience, I was bewitched by a story in the Guardian in which the writer and her friend worked in the garden each morning, enjoyed a filling lunch made from local ingredients with their hosts, and set out each afternoon to explore the Tuscan countryside–even taking advantage of local thermal hot springs to nurse their sore muscles. Imagine my surprise when my host assumed I would work 8-10 hour days six or seven days a week! Setting (preferably in writing) an expected number of work hours before you arrive gives you something concrete to point to if you feel like you are being taken advantage of.

Will you be staying with other people?

For some travelers, meeting other adventurers is a big part of the experience. But if you’re not totally comfortable sharing close quarters with total strangers–a young female having to share a small room with a 40-year-old guy for two months for instance (true story)–ask your host about the situation in advance. They’ll probably already know who will be around during that time and may have a private or semi-private option if you ask far enough in advance. Watch how you ask though; I saw a WWOOF host laugh hysterically at the presumption of a couple who asked if they could stay in a private room.

Where will you stay?

As we covered in GoMad Nomad’s WWOOFing 101 guide, accommodations can vary from a private, self-service apartment with internet, full kitchen, tv and sitting areas to a tent or sparse caravan. Before you leave you’ll want to know whether you can expect to stay inside or not, and whether your electronics will be secure (or even rechargeable) during your stay.

Can you get into town (or to other towns) on your own?

If you are just looking for a rural experience, an isolated host is no problem. But being stuck in an inaccessible part of Tuscany with no way to explore Florence, Chianti, or the surrounding towns could put a big damper on your plans to use WWOOFing as a base to see the region. Ask your host about local transportation or other options for WWOOFers; some hosts have bikes available for their volunteers or will be happy to drive you to the nearest train station or show you around themselves.

The difference between a sob story WWOOFing experience and the time of your life can either come down to chance or preparation–it’s up to you if you want to take your chances with Lady Luck. 

It can be really difficult to get in touch with hosts, but asking you host these key questions before you confirm your stay ensures that you take control of your WWOOFing time and end up with the best situation for you.

Gabi Logan is a freelance blogger and travel writer. While renovating a Ligurian farmhouse on a recent WWOOFing trip, she finally found a way to put her Italian literature degree to use: bonding over Dante with her hosts.

By Gabi Logan

For independent travelers, WWOOFing is an ideal way to travel slowly and inexpensively and learn something along the way.

But what is WWOOFing? How do you do it? Why on earth does the word have two ‘w’s?

What is WWOOFing?

Officially, WWOOF stands for “World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms,” but among travelers and hosts, the older name “Willing Workers on Organic Farms” persists, emphasizing the very human component of the organization. Volunteers work for free (sort of) for organic farms all around in the world, from Turkey to Taiwan to Tonga.

In its early years in the U.K., the organization was known as “Working Weekends on Organic Farms” and focused more on giving city dwellers an opportunity to get out into the countryside and support the organic movement. Short stays taught visitors about the movement, but weren’t the ideal situation for farmers, who were investing a lot of time teaching volunteers who were only around for one weekend.

Reflecting this need, the organization shifted away from directly organizing trips for volunteers and toward individual long-term farm stays, acting more as a resource facilitating the connections between volunteers and farms. The organization briefly adopted the name “Willing Workers on Organic Farms,” but governments took issues with people “working” on farms without work visas, and the name changed to its current form.

Today, volunteers organize their own farm stays, contributing their work to organic farms in exchange for meals, a place to stay, and training from in ecologically-sound agriculture.

WWOOFing Terminology

If you visit any national WWOOF organization, you’ll find that very specific terminology has evolved to describe these unique arrangements.

“WWOOF” is the name of the international organization overseeing all national WWOOF chapters, but is used primarily as a verb, describing the act of organizing and going on a farm stay or the work itself. For instance, in Italian, you can say you “fare lo WWOOFing” (do WWOOFing).

The farms, vineyards and orchards where volunteers stay are called hosts, similar to an immersive language-learning homestay. The volunteers themselves are known as “WWOOFers,” which may sound a bit like an onomatopoeic name for canines, but actually sounds much more charming in non-English accents.

Who Should WWOOF?

The main requirement for WWOOFers is an interest in organic farming practices. The organization emphasizes that this is not just a way to arrange a cheap vacation. Beyond that, you need to be okay with roughing it and physically able to complete manual labor tasks.

Some hosts provide nicer accommodations than others, in a guest house, private apartment, or hotel room if they run a hotel on site. But these opportunities are more the exception than the rule, and many hosts offer simple campers or tent sites for WWOOFers. If you have a real need for multiple hot showers a day and modern, indoor accommodations, you’ll need to really screen the hosts.

Likewise, the work WWOOFers perform is not equally demanding in all WWOOFing locations. With some hosts, you can work primarily in the kitchen canning jams or making herbal tinctures, but other larger farms may have odd jobs like building a shed or a stone fence that WWOOFers need to help out with. If you have any serious physical limitations, let your prospective host know in advance so they can decide if you’re compatible with the work at their farm.

What do WWOOFers do?

If you envision riding around on tractors and milking cows when you hear “farm stay,” you’ve only imagined a small part of the possibilities of WWOOFing. In some areas, hosts fit into this pastoral farm mold, but more often than not, hosts are small, independent operations specializing in a one product or type of agricultural output.

You can learn to make goat cheese in the Alps, blend pinot noir in Australia, run an agrotourism school in the south of France, harvest olives and make olive oil in Portugal, build irrigation systems in Ghana, heard cattle in Argentina, or grow papayas in Hawaii.

The basic premise remains the same no matter where you go or what kind of agricultural operation you visit: WWOOFers work roughly five to six hours a day five days a week for their hosts. Early mornings are typically the norm, so you may work from 7 am or 8 am till lunch at 1 pm or 2 pm or put in a few hours in the morning and a few hours in the evening in hot climates with stifling midday heat.

Where Can You Go?

WWOOFing is an ideal vehicle to explore both developed countries and developing destinations that are difficult to visit independently, including many countries in eastern Europe, the Caucuses, and Africa.

More than fifty countries have their own national WWOOF organizations, and another 50+ are on the independent list, meaning there is no national administrative body, and you can WWOOF there with a membership from any other country. For a full list of the countries that currently host WWOOFers, check out the national organization list (http://wwoof.org/natorgs.asp) or the independents lists (http://www.woof.org/independents.asp).

How Do You Sign Up?

First things first: pick the country you’d like to WWOOF in.

One of the main downsides for travelers looking to WWOOF is that you have to sign up for each national WWOOFing organization separately. So if you are trying to assemble a year of WWOOFing around Europe, you’ll have to sign up separately for membership in the British, Swiss, French, Spanish, Greek, and Italian organizations.

After providing your biographical information through the national organization’s online form, you send in a membership fee, typically around $30-$40. Many countries accept payment by Paypal these days, but for some countries, you’ll have to factor a few weeks for your check to arrive into your travel plans.

Once these materials have been received by the national WWOOF administration, they’ll send you a host list and a membership card. You can’t begin a WWOOFing trip without your membership card, and many hosts will ask to see a copy of it by email before accepting your request to stay with them.

***

Many national WWOOFing organizations have a list of opportunities you can browse for free before signing up for membership. Take a look through some listings in Brazil (http://www.wwoofbrazil.com/pre_host_farm.htm), Kazakhstan (http://www.wwoofkazakhstan.org/hosts/), and Italy (http://www.wwoof.it/gb/list.html) to get inspired.

Gabi Logan is a freelance blogger and travel writer. While renovating a Ligurian farmhouse on a recent WWOOFing trip, she finally found a way to put her Italian literature degree to use: bonding over Dante with her hosts.

One day last June, I went for a jog with my new friend Shannon.  She had moved to Cajamarca as part of a Fulbright grant to teach English at the university.  While she loved her life in Peru, she missed working with school-aged children and was looking for opportunities to volunteer with an under-served community.  I had been informally teaching English to several children on my street for months.  I wanted to formalize my efforts into classes, but didn’t know how to go about it.  By the end of our three-mile jog, we had decided to start a school.  It was as simple as that.

After a couple meetings, we bought some markers and a dry erase board and began teaching free English classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  Following the principle that you don’t need a building to have a classroom, we began to teach in the street where the kids usually play soccer.  After two classes, a neighbor quickly volunteered a few child-sized chairs and the use of a roofed patio outside of his house.  Over time, more and more children came consistently and now we have an attendance between 12 and 18 children per class between the ages of four and eleven.  With geese, chickens and dogs wandering around us, we sing songs, play games and walk these kids through basic English. 

As terrible as it sounds, for most of my life I have not been a fan of children.  In graduate school, I dabbled in Pediatric occupational therapy but quickly became disinterested; preferring to work with a my-aged or older, even geriatric population.  Perhaps I hadn’t met the right kids.  For some reason, I find myself drawn to these children, who, despite the bad hands they were dealt, manage to be seemingly happy-go-lucky kids. 

Some of our students have it better than others.  Some eat three meals a day, others are lucky to get one.  Some go to school, others don’t.  One of my eight-year-old students lives in a closet-sized mud-and-grass hut with her 13-year old sister (who raised her).  Her parents live in the countryside and don’t want her.  One of our brightest students, Pepe, can’t walk due to a congenital spinal deformity; this seven-year-old boy crawls on his hands and ankles.  The family has been given money twice to bring him to Lima for a surgery that would give him the ability to walk, but they used the money on other things.  No matter what, each afternoon the kids gather to play soccer in the street with their worn ball and smiles on their faces.  Pepe is a surprisingly good player.

Each kid has a story.  These kids are TOUGH.  These kids rarely whine, cry or ask for anything more than for me to play soccer with them after class (a disgraceful sight).  In my opinion they need so much.  I want to give each one the same opportunities I had growing up.  However, saving the world or even one child is far more complicated than one would ever imagine (trust me, I’ve tried).  So, I offer free English classes twice a week to anyone who wants to come.  The kids and parents show extreme gratitude and have graciously welcomed me into their close community.

Not only are these kids happy, grateful and tough…they are SMART!  One day as I was conversing in Spanish with a small group, I asked a question and soon realized I already knew the answer.  “Duh!” I blurted out in English.  “Duh!” I heard the kids repeat.  From that point forward, I began to hear the expression “Duh,” used commonly and appropriately throughout the children of my neighborhood.  I was proud.  Fortunately their quick acquisition of the language carries over to more useful expressions such as “hello” and “how are you?” which I am greeted with frequently nowadays.

Shannon and I have faced challenges and worked around them.  No funding and lack of materials in English has not been a problem.  It forces us to be inventive.  Originally it was hard to get the kids to show up on time (four o’clock, gringo time tends to translate to four thirty or later, Peruvian time). We nipped that one in the bud by using constant reminders, starting class at four whether all the kids have arrived or not, and teaching classes that kids want to attend.  If you ask one of our students when the next class is, they will respond in English “Tuesday at four o’clock, punctual!”

The greatest problem we faced was that of classroom management.  With a teacher:student ratio of about 1:50 in the public schools, you can imagine it would be difficult to structure things.  In the local school that our students attend, the teaching is done mostly by lecturing in the front of the classroom.  During the first few classes, when we asked a question the children would either shout out the answers or stand up and wave their hands in front of our faces pleading “please miss, me, please!”  At the end of class when I read a book, the children would crowd me, trying to all sit in my lap at the same time.  Okay, so THESE kids are tough, happy, grateful, etc. but I don’t like them enough to get suffocated.  The chaos needed to be controlled and fast. 

Shannon, being a more patient person than myself and a more experienced teacher was good at ignoring the more outgoing children and calling on the polite ones.  I, on the other hand, couldn’t focus with this disorder.  First, I tried changing my typically “fun” demeanor.  I looked at the children who were talking amongst themselves with a frown on my face and disappointed and said “what are you doing?  Listen to your teacher!”  This was effective for about 15 minutes. Eventually we implemented rule: “when my hand is up, my mouth is closed” which has had a longer lasting outcome.  Generally we structure our lesson plans to keep the kids active and engaged, eliminating opportunities for them to act like brats.

While I spent time in the States in the early fall, Shannon continued to teach classes and upon my return in October I was greeted warmly by our students.  At that point we decided to get this on paper.  Shannon and I (both being major nerds) enjoyed long work sessions during which we wrote our mission and guiding principles, methodology, a profile of the community we serve, lesson structures and more.  After a couple weeks, we had our first draft of a portfolio.  All we lacked was a name and who better to ask than our bright young students? 

The one-and-only naming session was productive.  Shannon, myself, and several of the kiddos made suggestions.  Some were stereotypical names given frequently to schools, churches, buildings, and programs in Peru. “Escuela del Corazon,” (School of heart) “Escuela de las estrellas,” (school of the stars) “Escuela bonita,” (beautiful school) to name a few.  There were a few humorous suggestions such as “escuela de las gringas” and “escuela de los monos” (after their favorite song about monkeys jumping on the bed).  While the name “school of the monkeys,” was amusingly tempting (both to me and the kids), the final decision came down to a vote.  The winner?  “Mundo Maravilloso”.  In English: Wonderful World.

We’ve got a lot to do and a lot more kids to cater to.  At least 20 children have recently asked if they can join, but with Shannon back in the States, I’m putting a pause on new admissions.  I’m developing a long-term (3 month minimum) volunteer program under the principle that children need consistency to learn efficiently.  Little by little, I’ve gathered a box full of books, scissors, markers and a few other supplies to improve our activities.  Shannon and I are working together in the upcoming months to develop a set curriculum with matching lesson plans.  But Mundo Maravilloso has a great beginning and lots of exciting things to come.

–Danielle L. Krautmann

 *If you are interested in learning more about Mundo Maravilloso or receiving a copy of our portfolio, please contact me directly via my email: DanielleLParker [at] gmail [dot] com.   

Dear GoMad Nomad,

My fiancé and I are looking into trying to teach English in Asia –our short list at the moment is Japan, China, and Korea. This is a new and exciting idea that just popped up a few days ago, so I don’t know a lot. I know that we would want to leave this summer or fall. We would like to go for a year. We want to live in a big city.

My students and I at school in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

What are your experiences – where have you gone? How did you set them up? Would you recommend them?

I found a couple programs online that help you get the TEFL certification; they set up a job for you, set up your housing, visa, and provide insurance. They have an upfront program fee, but then you also get paid through the contract they set up with the school. It kind of seems like it might be an easy option, but I wonder if it’s easy enough to set up by yourself.

Also, what do you think about getting the TEFL or CELTA certification? Is it necessary to get a job?

-Carolyn in Arizona

Dear Carolyn,

I’ve taught at a private academy in Spain, short-term contracts in Korea, a school year in Mongolia, in Palestine, and as a Peace Corps volunteer in Uzbekistan.

I never got any certification because I came out of the Peace Corps with two years experience and got my following jobs based on that experience.

Some jobs require you to have a TEFL or CELTA certificate, but many do not. Often you might get a few hundred dollars more each month if you have the certificate, but basic requirement for teaching English in Asia are simply to be a native speaker and hold a bachelor’s degree. Any education or work experience beyond this and you just increase the quality of your working conditions and salary.

As far as looking for job openings, Dave Sperling’s ESL Café is my goto site.

I have organized all my teaching contracts myself—either directly with the school or through a recruiter.  So I don’t have experience with any programs that help you get the TEFL certification, set up a job for you and handle all the logistics. I don’t think it’s especially difficult to set everything up independently, but it is more work than going through a program. You just need to know what the norms are for pay, teaching hours, and work conditions so you aren’t taken advantage of.

I’ll try to sum up and generalize theses Asian countries for teaching:

Japan: Good salary, but high cost of living = not much money saved up. I’ve never been to Japan, but nearly everyone I’ve talk to loves it there.

South Korea: Decent working conditions, good pay, reasonable cost of living, fun place to live = happy ESL teachers with money in their pocket after contract finishes. And there is an abundance of jobs.

China:  Lower salaries but low cost of living (outside Beijing and Shanghai anyway). Teach in China for the experience of living in China and a chance to learn some Chinese. Lots of job opportunities.

Taiwan: I’ve never been to Taiwan, but from what I hear, it falls somewhere in middle between China and Korea in terms of earnings and cost of living.

If you want to teach this fall, it’s a good idea to get started because South Korea, I know, has new requirements for their visa. Now you need a federal criminal background check which takes up to three months to complete. So you might want to get started in the process earlier, rather than later, no matter where you are planning to teach.

-Stephen

Have you taught English in Asia? Please comment below to add to the discussion.

By Danielle L. Krautmann

A local celebrity

How did  it get to be this late?  I’m lying on Violeta’s bed in her one-room home in Baños del Inca.  Actually, it’s not just her bed, she shares this queen-sized mattress which sits on cinder blocks with her husband and 11-year-old daughter, Alejandra.  It’s four o’clock in the afternoon; I had planned to be home hours ago.

Outside Violeta's house after lunch

When I agreed to go to church with Violeta, I assumed it would be your typical hour-long service…not three hours.  When I said I’d come for lunch afterwards, I thought we would slam down some sandwiches, and say chau.  Instead, we spent two hours preparing a feast and another hour eating it.  After lunch Violeta taught me how to prepare “fresh” limeade with tap water that spurted out of the faucet cloudy and yellow in color.  But how could I refuse to drink it after watching her cut and squeeze 10 limes all the while explaining to me that it is the most refreshing bebida you can consume after a big meal?

I gulp it down as fast as I can to show my appreciation (and to get it over with).  I’ll leave soon and either throw up or take an antibiotic, I assure myself to ease the nausea that is already setting in.  Violeta, seeing how much I enjoyed her refreshment, proudly refills my glass.  I try to politely refuse, “I should really get home to let Brandy out.”

“You don’t have to go yet!  Stay!  Chat with me!  Just give me one more horita of your time.”  Violeta pleas.  And again, how can I refuse?  My new friend and her family have taken me under their wing, inviting me for large meals, taking me to church, and bringing me with them to weddings and other events as if I’m a member of the family.

My new friend, Violeta, is a 42-year-old Peruvian woman who owns the only laundromat in Baños del Inca with her 52-year-old husband Alejandro.  She met her husband when she was 18 and they tried for 12 years to have children. Not until she was 30 did she realize that all she needed to do was pray and God would grant her one.  So came Alejandra or Lisbeth as we call her.  A plump, happy pre-teen who loves watching pirated DVD’s and can recite every line from Shrek and all four of its sequels.

We have nothing in common.  She has a child, I don’t.  My first language is English, Violeta’s only language is Spanish.  She believes Jesus Christ is her savior while the only God I’ve even known is Pachamama.  My house has four bedrooms, her’s is the size of my bedroom.  Despite all this, we have somehow formed a close connection.  Three or four afternoons a week, I go and visit her at the laundromat, spending hours chatting, and sometimes helping her fold clothes (she fired me from ironing).

Lisbeth and I playing with my camera at a wedding.

I agree to stay for un momentito  and try hard to forget about the mud-water limeade I just consumed.  I’ll leave it up to my stomach to decide whether to begin the digestion process or send it back up.  As we prop ourselves up on the bed with pillows to chat, I feel like I’m at a slumber party.  Violeta explains that she doesn’t have a lot of friends and prefers it that way.  After dealing with people at the laundromat six days a week from 9am until 7pm she likes to spend her free time by herself.

“Well then, por que yo?” I ask her, wondering what makes me special enough to be taken in by this wonderful family.

“Porque eres gringa!  Duh!”  She proclaims, correctly utilizing the English word I taught her this afternoon.  She must notice the naive confusion in my face and begins to explain how fascinating the “gringo culture” is.  “Ever since I was a little girl, I watched you on TV.”  She refers to a show called “La familia Ingalls,” which I realize must be Little House on the Prairie.  From an early age, Violeta watched this show, dreaming that some day she would marry a gringo and move somewhere like Europe or the United States of America.

“And I watch American TV shows every night.  You’re culture is so impressive!”  She went on with wide eyes.  “You gringos are so sophisticated, so rich, so advanced.  Your houses are enormous and you look beautiful all the time with your make-up, nice clothes, perfect hair…”  As she goes on, I peek down at my outfit.  With a hat on my head to hide the fact I didn’t shower today, worn cargo pants, filthy bare feet, and a short sleeved t-shirt over a long sleeved one, I’m afraid I must be a terribly disappointing gringita.

I recall the last show I watched on TV.  After five minutes of My Super Sweet Sixteen, where privileged teenage brats scream at their parents about which convertible they will receive at their million dollar birthday party, I had to turn it off.  This is what impresses her?  The chunks are rising in my throat, but I’m uncertain if it’s due to the limeade or her words.

I try my hardest not to cringe as she continues, “I tell my Alejandra to study her English so that maybe, some day, she can marry a gringo, or at the very least, travel to another country.”  The Peruvian dream.  Really.  If the American dream is to work your way from rags to riches, the Peruvian dream is to marry a gringo and move to the States.  I can’t take any more of this.  I’m going to puke up two hours of cooking, and two glasses of limeade.  I need to get home, and fast.

“Thank you so much for today, it was wonderful.”  I tell her honestly.  I will visit her on Monday at the laundromat.

What have we done to you people?  I think to myself as I run home.  I storm into the house, grab some Ciprofloxacin and a glass of water and plop down on my couch.  Feeling unsettled, I mull over a conversation I once had with a Peruvian friend of mine about Christmas.  “Why,” I asked “Do you Peruvians put plastic snowmen and fake tinsel pine trees everywhere for Christmas when it doesn’t snow in Peru and there are hardly any pine trees?”

“You did this!” He exclaimed as if it was obvious.  Then, after seeing in my face what a blow he had just delivered, he softened his voice.  “Well, your country did…or the country you come from…”

Peruvians are laid back, have strong family values, beautiful folkloric music and bright colors.  It pains me to think that people from a country as culturally rich as Peru would want to be anything else.  They want to be like the “classy” gringos who start wars for money, who shake hands instead of kiss and love to be politically correct.  Ugh.  This realization pains me almost as much as the thought of Peruvians watching our TV shows and thinking that is what our lives are like.

I am overcome by disappointment and guilt.  The fact of the matter is that I haven’t invited Violeta to my house because I once told her it was small.  After seeing that her and her husband share their bed with their daughter and their kitchen, dining room, living room, and bathroom all fit into a room the size of the one in which I sleep, how I can ever show her my four-bedroom home with TV, sofa, refrigerator, coffee pot, closets?  The fact of the matter is that I am gringa and the quality of my life is better than that of many of the Peruvians here in Cajamarca.

And yet…I suppose I do the same thing.  I yearn for “the simple life.”  I admire the rich customs in Peru and want nothing more than to take part in them.  I’ve left my culture behind to immerse myself in another.  Who am I to judge?

Either the antibiotics are kicking in, or my stomach chose digestion.  As I sit on my couch, reviewing this afternoon’s conversation in my head, I recount Violeta saying, “You know, we don’t see gringos here often, and when we do, we think ‘Wow! Look how nice they look!’  We want to listen to them speak their perfect English to be just like them.”  This is true.  When I go running in the countryside, people come out of their houses just to watch.  The other day a woman yelled “gringita, please wait.  I want to show you to my children!”  I kept running.  People honk their horns, follow me, and the brave ones greet me or try to speak the only English they know.   “Hello!”  they call.  “Gringita!” they yell and wave.  Children follow me and ask questions.  “What country are you from?” “What are you doing in Peru?” “Why is your dog on a leash?”

I hate this attention.  I want to say “didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude to stare?”  I usually try my hardest to scoot by as quickly as possible without making eye contact or reacting.

But, aren’t I guilty of the same crime?  I watch when a campesino woman walks by with a heard of animals and marvel at how one person can control five sheep, three cows and two burrows at the same time.  I study their skirts and hats and wonder what their lives are like.  I gawk when they shamelessly whip out a breast in the middle of the street and massage it to squeeze the milk into their infant’s mouth.  They call me gringita, I call them the hat people.

I am a celebrity in the countryside only because few gringos pass through.  If a campesino walked into Concord, NH, hat on head, and baby in blanket on back, we would stare too.  Thank Pachamama we still have diversity.  People will continue to gaze at the weirdo gringa who walks her dog on a leash every morning; I can’t change this.  My only choice is to be the best weirdo-gringita I can be.  I can answer their questions, return their Hello’s, and every now and then wait, so the woman can show me to her kids.  Turns out, I’m representing a culture.  “The gringo culture.”

Dear GoMad Nomad:

These could be your peppers drying in the sun

Currently I am living in Donostia, Basque Country, with my girlfriend. At the end of the month we are likely to move to Madrid, to hunker down over winter. My problem is that neither of us have more than a tourist visa, which entitles us to only three months in Spain. I remembered that you had lived in Madrid for some time, and wondered how you stayed in the country, whether by obtaining a visa, or making occasional runs for a border, to refresh your entry visa, or some other way. I am sick of borders, fronteras, imaginary lines dividing countries.

-Moving to Madrid

And another letter:

Dear GoMad Nomad,

I am looking into teaching English in Spain, but I will just have a tourist visa so I need to do it under the table.  I have an online TEFL certificate but no teaching experience.  Do you know of any good ways of breaking into that with my limitations?

-In new territory

Dear Moving to Madrid and In New Territory:

Unfortunately you can’t just leave the country (or the EU or the Shengen zone) and return immediately. You actually need to leave for three months, because you are permitted only 90 days in a 180-day period. This applies to those from the US, Canada, Australia, Brazil, Argentina, Japan, South Korea, among others.

Fortunately, the Spanish are pretty relaxed at Passport Control and they generally don’t check your stamps very closely. Many EU and Shengen countries don’t even stamp your passport, which may complicate things or may work to your advantage, allowing you to stay extra time.

But…sometime they do check. This is a very real risk. I have a very good friend who was denied entry into Spain because he had already used his 90 days in 180-day period in Shengen countries. He was held at the airport in Madrid for three days before being allowed to return home.

I know plenty of North Americans and Australians that were living and working in Spain illegally, having left and entered multiple times even though they were over their limit. But that was before the economic crises of 2008. Friends of mine that are still teaching English in Spain say the job availability is scarce, so it might not be an optimal time to move to Spain. Read this article for more on teaching English in Spain.

Working without a work visa

Although obviously illegal, there are plenty of US citizens working in Spain without a work permit. If you’re smart, the risk is minimal. Start contacting English schools while you’re still at home to see what kind of response you get. If you’re determined to move to Spain anyhow, just do it. If you can’t find work at a private language academy, you can try to find private tutoring gigs. They usually pay 15-25 Euro per hour.

Getting an extension

I am under the impression that you can apply for an extension to add to your 90-day visa free period. But, as of 2011, this is going to require an apostilled criminal record check from your home country. Go to your local police station in Spain to apply.

Getting a work visa

To get a work visa for Spain, you have to be in your home country to complete the paperwork and take it to a Spanish embassy or consulate. Contact Spanish schools while you’re still in your home country and try and secure a job in May or June in order in order to start work at the beginning of the school year with all the official documents in hand.

The debate continues…

There is quite a debate over all this on different forums on the web. I have read and heard stories that reveal conflicting reports to all the information I just gave you. Please feel free to comment with your personal experience or any information you might have that coincides or conflicts with my views.

Sincerely,

Stephen