I met Byron, a 25-year-old guy, at
Moncton market. He was kind enough to accept my request about staying on their
organic farm on Prince Edward Island for a day. When we arrived at the farm, he
told me that he built his hut himself. I went inside. There was dust
everywhere. I was looking for a bathroom when Byron saw my puzzled face.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked. He said, “ummm, we don’t have bathroom here.”
As if I was hit by thunderbolt, my eyes widened. I was about to repeat my
question but hesitated and thought maybe I didn’t understand what he said. So I
faltered, “ wwwhat, well, hhow… wwwhere do you… wwwhat do you do when you wanna
pee?” He looked at me and said with a smile, “well, we pee outside.” Trying to
digest what he said, I asked, “but where do you poo?” He said that they do it
when they’re in town, they, meaning he and his girlfriend. “We go to town
everyday and so we do it there.” Astonished and speechless, I didn’t ask where
they take shower. Maybe they went swimming in the sea. I couldn’t contain
myself and said, “but you’ve been living here for more than a year, right? You
didn’t have a plan to have a toilet when you were building the house?” I felt
my questions were becoming irritating and I really didn’t want that. He said
that they didn’t think it was necessary and they could forgo the bathroom.
“It’s been only a few weeks since I set up the solar panels. Before that we did
with candles.” I was beginning to think that either I’m too bourgeois or they
were really primitive. I tried to remember the old houses of a few hundred
years old in Iran; yes, they had toilets. Even the humble huts in small
villages I had seen, they all had toilets. Trying to get to know him more, I
asked, “what made you come here and start your own farm?” He said, “We always
wanted to have our own place and be independent. I don’t like paying bills.
Here we grow organic vegetables and sell them at the market. My girlfriend
works at a bar and life goes on.” While I was thinking of the meaning of
comfort and how it has developed through history, I realized that for some
people it has not developed and they adhere to the age-old meaning of comfort. Perhaps,
that development wasn’t necessary for them.
Byron pointed at the dusty floor
and a rag and told me I could sleep there. I looked at a chair and a table and
thought I’d sleep on the chair. When he said that he’s leaving to pick his
girlfriend up, I got excited and brought my backpack with me. On the way, I said,
“is it possible that you drop me at a bed & breakfast or a hostel when we
get in town? I’m sorry, I know you’ve been hospitable to accept me as your
guest; it’s just that I can’t stay here tonight. I need a bathroom and a clean
place to sleep.” He said, “I’m sorry I should’ve told you about the condition.”
I stopped him before he finished, “no worries, you don’t have to feel sorry, I
just took certain things that I find basic for granted.” He said, “it’s more
than a year since we left city life and got used to this life of our own that I
didn’t think it’s not conventional. Let me ask Reggie and see if you could stay
the night there.”
Reggie and Stella were the owners
of the big farm, which Byron and his girlfriend rented a part of. They were a
middle-aged couple. We had soup at their place before getting to Byron’s
house. The first thing I saw in Stella
was her penetrating blue eyes and long white hair. She was half native and had
a special charm.
I stayed the night at Reggie and
Stella’s in a comfortable guest room they offered me. I woke up in the morning
with a smell of incense that Stella burnt. She said that she did it everyday. I
told them many things about Iran they didn’t know. It was their first encounter
and they didn’t really expect to see a backpacker from Iran in an organic farm
in PEI. Stella told me a lot about the native Indian traditions, the powwow,
sweat lodge and more. I was amazed at the richness of their culture and
traditions. It was a pity that I couldn’t stay there more and had to leave to
Charlottetown. Byron was kind enough to take me there, where I met my new
couchsurfing hosts, a couple from Italy and Japan.
We rode on bike around
Charlottetown for a couple of hours and came back home for a delicious Japanese
food. The next day, Giancarlo, my host, woke up with me and took me to the bus
station on bike.
On the way back to Moncton, I was
summarizing my 3-week trip that was almost unplanned. I was thinking how
everything happened on the spot and how accidental things were, the encounters,
the places that I didn’t originally plan to visit, the sleeping in the wild, hitchhiking,
camping by the beach around Cape Breton, jumping from the waterfall,
skinny-dipping in the crystal clear water of the ocean surrounded by cliffs and
lying on a rock in the middle of water under the sun, and last but not least,
the people. The diverse people I met, the talks we had and the drinks we
toasted. It was a unique trip, in the real Canada!
The end of the journal.
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