Peru 11- FincaVille without Mark Zuckerberg

Oct 20, 2011, Eco Truly Park organic farm

Finca is Spanish for farm, and as we plant real seeds along the curving rows of real earth by the Pacific surf, I ponder the other millions who are sitting in their work cubicles, planting virtual seeds in FarmVille, a popular Facebook game. The cubiclers get sore eyes, whereas we get sore backs – a type of butterfly effect balance that makes our crazy world what it is. Seeds are amazing. They sit with their buddies in a bag, dormant and dreaming, then one day they are plonked into some earth, and, magically, they awaken and sprout forth, reaching on up towards the warm light. Humans are also seeds, sitting dormant with their buddies, until one day they find the right soil from which they can blossom into their full potential. That soil might be on a Peruvian farm, or it might be a career change that speaks to their heart, or a “chance” encounter with a stranger that diverts our well laid plans into new and enthralling directions.
I recall an interesting story during a Mexican dinner in Sandpoint, Idaho, where someone mentions this series of books called The Ringing Cedars of Russia. The story revolves around this young woman, Anna?, who was raised by the animals in Siberia, and who is a conduit for a fount of knowledge. In this case, she describes how plants are here to provide us with nourishment, but to communicate our particular needs to the plants, we should first place the seeds in our mouths, allowing the seed to absorb our DNA structure, so the seed can then grow with an optimized benefit to the consumer.

Do I walk the talk? I stand under the warming sun, a handful of seeds in my hand, but many other hands have touched these seeds, and with already too much roughage in my diet and an acute shortage of toilet paper, I throw the seeds in the ground sans human DNA.

As we later weed the carrots, more tours of Peruvians from Lima stroll by taking our photos – the irony of the locals taking pictures of “farmers” from Australia and North America does not escape us. Dos sols (60 cents) per photo! I shout out in Spanglish. I have to make a living somehow, but I am a terrible salesman and the tourists leave me sol-less.