With many heart-felt goodbyes, I boarded my plane, destination England. I was leaving NZ behind for the second time - this time with the knowledge that I wouldn't be returning for a long time.
However, I knew that new adventures awaited me, and it was important that I make the best of my incredible opportunities in Europe.
I arrived in London at 5AM, and headed for the train to stay with my - by this time pretty much adopted family - Joy, her partner and her lovely son Harvey. They surprised me with a Magnum-sized bottle of Prosecco as a welcome, and I soon settled in!
I was only there for a short time, about two weeks, but we made the most of the weekends by visiting a lovely pub by a river, where we could see barge-boats drifting by. That's definitely something I love about English culture, though I was glad to have missed most of the winter!
In mid-March, I headed to my pre-organised workaway in France, which would take up the next two months roughly. There's something rather nerve-wracking about heading into the unknown, to a place you don't know, to stay with people you've never met, and in a country where it isn't your first language. However it's exciting too!
Workaway is a website I've used a number of times in the past, and as long as you don't mind a bit of hard work, its the best way to immerse yourself in new cultures and travel the world for cheap.
My first sight of the place was rather stunning, a renovated chateau just up from the beautiful and tiny old village of Moumour; the estate was huge, the gardens perfect. I arrived in the evening so did little that night except meeting my two hosts for the duration of my stay; a husband and wife team who ran the high end B&B with extreme efficiency.
Although I had little time off (no weekends) there were a few hours in between prepping the food for dinner in the morning, and beginning the rest of the food work and service in the afternoon, where I could explore (though I mostly read books and relaxed as I was rather exhausted). Even the view from the walls onto the village were gorgeous however, and these I enjoyed greatly.
I was to spend most of the time working in the kitchen, which was something I was glad of, as the other side of the work (gardening and changing beds) held little interest to me, though it was work that was necessary to do at times of course. The view from my own room in an entirely separate building (the Chambre D'hote) was also stunning, looking onto the ruins of an 11th century tower, which was rumored to have tunnels running beneath it.
Working in the kitchen here was hard work; far exceeding the 5 hours that workaway guidelines stipulated, and working 7 days of 7, rather than 5 of 7. However, as it was for a short period, I tried to learn as much as I could, even when it meant working until midnight most nights to get the kitchen ready for the next day. Working here not only gave me an entire notebook of recipes and methods, tips and tricks that I picked up, but also taught me more about the processes that go on in the kitchen, and what hard work it is.
I had unfortunately arrived at the beginning of what I thought was a cold, but soon turned into a fever and stomach bug that left me unable to eat for five days and feeling deathly ill. Luckily my hosts were extremely kind and forced me to best rest for a week to recover. Although it felt awful relying on the kindness of strangers, I made up for it once I recovered by working as hard as I could.
Exploring the little village in my free hours was a joy in itself, as although it wasn't travelling far, it was wonderfully quiet and picturesque.
On the days when there were no guests (as I was in the shoulder season in Spring just leading up to summer and thus only slowly beginning to get busy) I worked in the gardens, helping keep their enormous grounds pristine. They had spared no expense over the three years of renovation that it took them to get the place as they wanted it, and as such it was the sort of place I could never imagine staying.
From the swimming pool to the many gardens, the home cinema to the real-gold rimmed plates (that I was terrified of dropping) it was a place so out of my league I could easily imagine myself going back a few hundred years and fitting in rather well with 'the help'! I was in no way treated like this however; the work was hard, and a lot was expected of me, but in return I was treated with respect and like family, eating with the owners, trying fine wines and watching movies with them in the evenings. I gave a lot, but was given a lot back in return.
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