I wrote a message to this little farm in Somerset because I was drawn to the fact that they made sourdough bread, had bees, carved spoons and was just in the right location between Bristol and Cornwall. And I was drawn to them even more when Patch answered my email saying that both of them went to art school and love sourdough rye bread.


Waiting for me at Yeovil Pen Mill train station, after my long day of travelling all the way from Leeds, were Tasha and Lily, their lovely 4 year old girl. Tasha was a full of energy and Lily was a brave little girl who was rather confident around other people. We stopped by at Mole Valley to pick up some duck feed, drove to see the mummy cow and her twins near Tinkers Bubble before heading home.


Home. Their lovely wooden home was so cosy and welcoming, and so was my caravan in the garden, which was a luxury compare to where I was staying in at the previous farm. I had an actual bed with working stove, a little table and seats in my home!



The work here was very varied, from gardening to woodworking to beekeeping, and were I to stay longer (or came at the less busy time when Tash didn’t have two events lined up within the same week) there would be so much more to do and learn, like making preserves, cordial and juice.


What I love about Patch and Tash was how they see wwoofing as an opportunity to really learn some skills. Tell them what you want to learn and they would try their best to teach and show you. Patch showed me how he made his sourdough rye bread, and also pancakes, on the first evening I arrived. And just when I mentioned that I was interested in fermentation, he jumped on board and we made some tomato sauce to ferment together, though I didn’t have a chance to try it because I left before it was fermented, Patch said that had I mention it in the email he would have started making Kimchi or something when I arrived. He even managed to guide me through carving my first ever wooden spoon. Tasha also successfully fitted beekeeping into her busy schedule just before she left to Glastonbury. We put on bee suits and went up to check the hives together briefly, which was a great experience for me.


I was inspired by their stories, the things they went through to get to where they are today, the reason they did not continue to pursue their careers in art, despite the fact that Tasha got funded by some kind of art organisation for her project, and Patch’s dad was a professional painter himself. I loved Tash’s catering business, how ethical and sustainable it was, and how she tried to keep the price low to make good, organic and ethical food more accessible to people.




The weekend I was staying happened to be when the Landskills Day, and educational event Tasha organised for the first time, and the Green Scythe Fair, was happening. So I decided to tag along with her, offer my photography skills for the ticket to the weekend at Thorney Lake campsite. I got to do what I loved, which was photography, as well as meet a lot of interesting people, learn about cheesemaking and beekeeping, and ate all the scrumptious food at the fair.

Oh yes, all the places I’ve been to have been feeding me very well.

The morning I left, Lily sweetly asked if I maybe wanted to stay for one more night. Patch drove me to a service station on the motorway where I found a lift further West to Wellington.


My experience at Little Brympton was enjoyable and eye-opening, I learned a lot from Patch and Tasha, and I know there’s a lot more to learn from them. I already looked forward to going back there, even before I left the place.

It was incredible.

Flo and I were gonna go down to London during that week but the plan fell through. So I spontaneously emailed several farms on wwoof in the area. Nick from the Incredible Farm in Walsden was the first one who got back to me, saying that I could come but would have to stay in a tent. Why not? I thought. In my head I was like, 'If it's pissing down that week I'm gonna stay home.'

But when the time came, I was desperate to get out of the city, rain or shine. It was a great decision I made, and on top of that the sun was shining every single day during the visit.



The farm was started 5 years ago by Nick and Mike. It was built from scratch, from an empty piece of land. They built 3 poly tunnels, dug a few ponds, grew fruit trees. Now they produce variety of salad and other fruit and vegetables for sell at shops, cafes and tiny stall they have every Friday. The most amazing thing was that the farm was totally off grid. All the electricity was generated by solar panels, and water collected from the rain, including the one used to water plants. There was a compost toilet and very basic shower facility on site.



It was a nice warm day when I arrived just after lunch time. I walked from Walsden train station to the farm, along this lovely canal in between s the hills, Ducks and ducklings were playing about in the water. This lovely stroll went on for a while until I reached Incredible Farm.


Mike, the head grower, gave me a quick tour of the farm, from the first poly tunnel all the way to the field where Custard and Rhubarb the cows were grazing on. He then asked me where I wanted to put my tent on. Once I decided, (and my decision was ‘anywhere’ because I wasn’t vey fussy. If it rained there would be no escaping anyway.) I met the other woofers who were staying there at that time, Thorsen from France who would be there for 3 more months, Brahm from Boston who would be there for two more weeks and Emma from France who just arrived the day before me and would be there for 3 months. Emma, who was staying in a tiny cabin offered to let me stay in there with her. It would be too cold for me to stay in a tent, she said. And that night she was proved to be right. I was forever grateful for her kindness.

I did wonder why so many French were staying at that place, and there were two conclusions I could come up with. The first one was that this farmed appeared on a French documentary, first thing in the film. And the second one, according to Nick, was that French students needed to achieve a certain score on TOEIC test to graduate from university, and that was how a lot of them choose to learn English.

Tasks at the farm changed from day to day, ranging from watering, picking salads, weeding, hay making, cooking lunch, milking Custard, moving firewood etc. If I were to stay longer, I was pretty sure there would be more tasks to do, one certain thing would be picking berries and making jam.



It was a lovely community to be a part of. We took turn cooking lunch and washing up. With a number of volunteers there, we had dinner together or went on a walk and did some grocery shopping in town together. I felt very welcomed there, also by Nick and Helena, his wife, who were knowledgable and willing to share there stories with you. We had a lovely barbecue around the fire together on a Friday night, sharing food and stories on the lovely evening. The same was with Mike, who led most of the work we did during the day. He was kind and understanding, and he worked alongside the volunteers throughout the day. He also insisted all of us over to his lovely family house in Todmorden for yet another dinner around the fire. It was a lovely evening.



There were walks around, Todmorden was a lovely town and Hebden Bridge was just a trek away. It was such a great and supportive environment, and there was so much more to learn. I didn’t want to go back home on Sunday evening, to the chaos of the city life. I enjoyed the calm and quietness in the nature here. It was a good balance really, not too cut out from the outside world, just enough for you to feel connected to the nature again.

So I just wrote a three-page long blog post about our hitchhiking trip to Scarborough, and accidentally deleted it.

Yes, I did. And I feel such a big big lost.

So here I go again.

It was a sunny Tuesday, we were free of commitments (except the fact that I had to go to Manchester to apply for my visa that Thursday) and so we decided to hitchhike to the coast to eat fish and chips.

Not that there was no fish and chips available in Leeds…but it was just so much better the last time we had it in Whitby, and we wanted some more.

And we wanted adventure.


So we set off at 8:30 in the morning, jumping around with grinning faces and breathing the air full of joy. Little did we know that our next hour would be spent walking around the city centre, trying to find a place to hitchhike from, trying to find the right bus to take us out of the city.

At last we got on the bus no. 13a which took us to Oakwood Clock Tower, where hitchwiki recommended was the place to hitchhike towards York. Whereby Road leading to the A64, however, was full of care homes and old people who frowned upon us being like ‘What the hell are you two girls doing here?’ The closest we got to getting a ride was the driver waving at us, giving us a thumb or teasingly pulling over and away.

We kept on walking and hitchhiking with the sun on our faces until we got to the lake in Roundhay Park. We tried to hitch from there and at last found a guy who just left the car park who agreed to took us just out of that place.

Philip Woods just went for a run in around the lake and drove us near the big Tesco in Seacroft. He had never picked up any hitchhikers before but had himself hitchhiked once from York back to Leeds after a night out in which he lost all his mates. Before driving away he said to us, ‘Let me know if you guys make it to Whitby. Seriously, add me on Facebook! I’m Philip Woods from Seacroft!’ Not in the ‘I hope you will be safe and alright’ tone, but rather ‘I bet you won’t make it there’

At the end, Flo did let him know with pride and grinning face that we made it to the sea.

We tried putting our thumbs out there until and arms hurt and no car would stop for us. At last we gave up and walked over to Tesco to refuel ourselves and think of a new strategy. As we were walking through Tesco car park, Flo decided to ask this guy who was standing by his red car, smoking a cigarette, if he, by any chance, was driving towards York.

And he did. So we had yet to refuel ourselves but instead jumped into his car.

Josh was a chef at Marriott Hotel in York. He has been cooking for four years, probably since he was 18, and his favourite food was burger. At some point during the journey he said, jokingly serious, ‘Are you two running away from something? Maybe I should ask for your IDs.’ He was getting a bit paranoid as there was a police car behind us. Flo replied, ‘Maybe WE should ask to see your ID.’

We didn’t see each other’s IDs when he dropped us of at the big Tesco just outside of York. The first think we did was buying some dried fruits and nuts, giving our bodies some energy before continuing our adventure.


Munching away the monkey nuts with great fun, we tried hitching from the gas station with no succeed, and walked back to Tesco car park. And all of the sudden Flo went, ‘Look, there’s a guy with loads of beer!’ and so we chased him to his car and asked if he would give us a lift out of here, and he did. This pub owner drove us (and his dog who constantly trying to eat our nuts) to Monks Cross Shopping Park where there were several big supermarkets, restaurants and clothing stores. We had come to believe that our place to hitchhike from was not the road but car parks. English people, for some reasons, wouldn’t stop for us on the road. We had to do it the hard way, confront them and harass them. And most people seemed to be terrified by our simple, one sentence question.

Considering that we were two small girls, I wonder what it was that made people so scared of giving us a lift.

This car park, though, proved to be tricker than others. We spent a few hours walking around from Sainsbury’s to ASDA’s to TOPSHOP to McDonalds, and we had no luck. Everybody was driving back towards York, and again their facial expressions reflected their thoughts, ‘I don’t want to have anything to do with you two.’ After what felt like several hours has passed, we finally found a lift on a taxi.

Well, not by a taxi driver, but this guys who lived in Heworth was getting a taxi back home after he’s done his shopping and let us share a ride with him back home.


And so we found ourselves in Heworth, the village that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, which it kind of was. Even though the Coasliner drove through this village, there was not a lot of car passing by, and from our experience we kinda knew that we wouldn’t get a ride anywhere just with our thumbs out.

Just when I said that we’d give it one more hour, until 3pm, and if we haven’t found a ride anywhere towards whitby or the coast, we would cross the road and hitchhike back to York, a lady who lived in a house opposite to where we were standing asked where we were trying to get to. The next thing we knew, we were getting in her car.

A mother and a former hitchhiker, she has hitchhiked down the South before and her daughter has hitchhiked all the way to Riga, Latvia. She was incredibly sweet and dropped us of near a roundabout that would lead us to Scarborough. It was a busy road and hardly anywhere to pull. We kept walking towards the roundabout and just when we got there Flo asked a van driver if he was driving to Scarborough. He just told us to get in the car and we did. and of we went to Scarborough.


As easy as that.

Ben was driving some plants from York to Dean’s garden just outside Scarborough. He dropped us off not too far away from the train station.

After 6 rides and 7 hours, as opposed to the normal 2 hours drive, we made it to Scarborough! Grins appeared on our faces as we got of the van. We made it here!

The first thing we did was going into a pub, used the toilet, connected to the internet and trying to find somewhere to stay the night. We sent out a few last minute couchsurfing request then headed to the sea.





Scarborough sea didn’t smell as salty as Venice’s one, and it was rather windy with very little sun. Nevertheless, we were happy to be there, and more than happy by the fact that we hitchhiked there. I guess it was more about how we get there than the destination tat mattered. But we did enjoy fish and chips by the pier and felt the accomplishment.


We did it! Hitchhiking to Scarborough to eat fish and chips!

Then it was the time to start sorting out where to sleep. As we were asking about hostels in a pub, I got a missed call from someone. I called back to find out that a couch surfer I sent a message to has offered to host us.

All sorted.


Daniel met us at the pier a few minutes later and then showed us his place, a first floor apartment with huge windows in the living room overlooking the seafront. It was like a dream place to be. We went to his game shop which has Star Wars’ lightsaber I was really excited about, and spent the evening in the living room, playing Carcassonne that made me missed Germany so badly.

And then went to bed in my jeans. That was how unprepared we were. No toothbrush, no comfy pants, just random stuff like book and journal which I didn’t even take out of the backpack. We would be a bit more prepared next time.

At least for the toothbrush…


Next morning, Daniel gave us a lift out of town, to some random shops with big car park and a gas station. The first thing we did was going into this friendly community cafe opposite and had some very cheap but tasty English breakfast to start the day off. Then our mission continued.

The weather wasn’t as compromising as yesterday, it was cold, windy and drizzling down ever so slightly. And all the cars were going back to Scarborough. When we were hanging around the gas station asking for a lift, an incredibly sweet lady came out of the little shop in the station, asked where we were trying to get to and offered to buy us bus tickets back home. We politely said no as it was our challenge to hitchhike back. She said we were welcomed to go inside and have a cup of tea or coffee, wished us luck and disappeared back to her little station.

It was people like this that kept us going and reminded us that there were many kindhearted people like this out there.

By waiting at the car park exit, we finally got a lift out of there to the big Morrisons not too far away. The rain became heavier and our jackets, which weren’t waterproof, only made it worst. The guy at the gas station wasn’t veery nice this time. He asked us to leave the premise if we were not buying anything from there. I was becoming less and less determined and started to think about getting a bus back home. But then Flo found someone.

Trev was waiting for his wife who were to Morrisons, and when Fo asked him, he was happy to give us a lift out of there. We got onto the back seats with they two dogs, waiting for his wife. We stayed silent as she approached us and got onto the car. She looked at the back seats and we started cracking up. He said to Pat, his wife, ‘Look, I can still pull.’

It was hilarious.

Trev and Pat was really sweet. They used to live in Scarborough and had hosted a few international students from Japan and Germany. Now they lived in Filey, a village South of Scarborough, which they invited us to stay over next time we are in the area. We couldn’t wait to come back.

They were going to drop us off at a gas station near a roundabout which would lead us back to York. However, once we got there the gas station wasn’t there anymore. None of us knew what to do. Trev drove back to a little parking space with a random burger truck and pulled over next to a businessman’s car. He said, ‘Let me take care of this.’, left the car and walked over to talk to the guy. The next thing we knew, we were exchanging numbers with them and got on to the businessman’s car.

We were for ever so grateful to be inside this spacious comfy car which sheltered us from the rain.

This guy was some sort of businessman from Barnsley who had to drive a lot around Yorkshire, attending different meetings. He goes to Scarborough at least once a week. Through conversations we later found out what Trev said to him that while we were still sitting in the car, ‘Are you driving to York by any chance? Would you be up to taking two ladies with you?’

Two ladies he couldn’t even see, that sounds rather dodgy. But maybe we were lucky he was on the phone at the moment and only paid half of his attention to what Trev said, and said yes to him without giving it much thought.

With limited amount of energy left, we weren’t very socialising but that seemed to be okay with him as well. He was making several business phone calls while we were drifting away. He drove us all the way to the main bus station in Leeds, and unexpectedly gave us his business cards, ‘Just in case you need a lift somewhere and I happen to be around the area.’


I love that small act of kindness, which we had received so much during two days of our adventure. It reminded me how kind we generous we human beings can be. It gave me a sense of community, caring, faith and trust. Most importantly, it made me feel alive.

plus, it's very simple to make, and will leave you feel very nourished afterwards


she cooked one big beet in water until tender, grate it and season with salt, lemon juice and honey (normally pickled beet is used) add chopped dill, spring onion and cucumber and mix them together. as Ruta said, this is more like a liquid salad than a soup.


add kefir (which is easy to find in eastern european/russian shop, or use natural yogurt drink instead)  mis them together and everything will magically turn pink! chill the soup in the fridge while preparing potatoes.


serve the cheery cold soup with warm potato and boiled egg. it was a sunny sunday and we enjoyed it in our kitchen. it felt almost like summer then.

we love food.

and i can't think of any other way to begin this post.

we love food so much, which, i guess, is what brought us together (very unexpectedly) on gumtree.

so, our house consisted of Flo and i, who cook all sort of experimental dishes and give them their names ourselves. (like vegan ginger and salted chocolate banoffi with date caramel and walnut crunch...or thai salad with grounded sesame doesn't actually exist in thailand) coming from thailand, i have not once cooked anything authentic except thai black fragrant rice i brought from home at the beginning of the year. yes, putting rice in the rice cooker and press 'mix rice' has been the most authentic thing i cook here in england, which at least reminds me of my mum's food, or the food that i would have back in my country.



and then there is Noosh, my half iranian-half swiss housemate whose cupboards are filled with dried herbs from her mum (like 5 big tubs of herbs and dried vegetables), plus her spices like saffron and cinnamon (which smells ways more intense than what you can get in english supermarkets) she doesn't seem to be in the kitchen as often as flo and i, but when she does cook a meal in there, the whole kitchen smells like another country. her food looks very different and traditional to me, with all the herbs she uses and their farsi names that always make me curious what they actually are.

finally, after 4 months, it's time to try some delicious persian food. it's hard to believe we've waited this long for it to happen.

but at least it did, and it was amazing.

for my first ever persian meal, noosh cooked us some herbed rice with spiced potato and onion patties. the potato patties was made mainly of two grated potatoes, grated onions, two eggs and spices like turmeric, pepper and cinnamon. they looked similar to swiss rösti. i thought it was kookoo sibzamini but maybe not after all, because she didn't boiled the potatoes first.




having rice as the staple grain in my culture, the way she cooked rice here was different. using basmati rice and parboiled it first, she then drained the excess water, mixed in herbs (which we found out later was a mixture of dill and something else, but mainly dill) and salt. the rise was put back into the same pan with added oil, she closed the lid and kept it cooked on low heat until the bottom was a bit burnt and crispy.


and what seemed like forever later, our sunday persian lunch was ready! it was served with yogurt mixed with dried mint leaves, chopped tomatoes and a sprinkle of salt if desired. the rice was light, soft and aromatic. the spiced potato patties were slightly sweet from the onion and minty yogurt plus chopped tomatoes were refreshing. i loved them all together, especially the fragrant rice i couldn't get enough of. i am glad to know that it was dill and will definitely put that on my shopping list.

i believe that you can learn more about one's culture by spending a day with people who grew up with it rather than travelling to the country for a week.

and so, being around two girls from spain last year, i believed i picked up a bit of this and that from them even though i had never been to spain. but spending a few hours having a big lunch with Andrea and her housemate today was a whole new experience of spanish culture.

experience through a shared, home cooked meal.


it all started with a one of the most enjoyable (yet stressful) art project i have ever done. making a set of ceramic tableware for a specific meal within two weeks.

for me, all i have been wanted to do was inviting myself to people's meal, not for the sake of free food, but to experience and learn about different cuisines (and cultures) from all over the world with having to physically travel there. but of course, that wasn't something normal people do.

which was where ceramics came in and played its role, as the invitation to the meal.

how about you cook, and i'll contribute to the meal, not by bringing food (obviously, i would be there to experience the regional and authentic food after all) but bring something to eat the food from, my pottery specifically made for the meal!

now that would sound more attractive (and less weird) for my potential host.

and then Andrea jumped in with enthusiasm, offering to cook me a spanish (valencian) meal.

which, of course, i accepted her offer with an equally high level of excitement.

as we cooked (or rather, Andrea cooked and i looked), she showed me a few spanish ingredients she has in the kitchen, everything seemed to be traditionally made in this household that i could feel their love for spanish food. even the salted cod in Borreta was brought all the way from Spain by her housemate's family who came to visit last week. how very honoured of me to be here!

at noon, i stepped into their cosy cozy dining/living room. Borreta, regional 'grandma' soup with salted cod and spinach was already simmering in a big saucepan. we started making tortilla espanola, allioli (garlic 'mayo') and poached egg to serve with the soup.



everything about home-cooked spanish food was new to me. even with the tortilla, i had zero idea how it would be made. so it was interesting for me to see the sliced potatoes being fried in (lots and lots of) oil first (which i didn't expect), then with them in (lots and lots of) eggs (2 for a big potato) and then cooked into the omelette.

Andrea hadn't made this dish for quite a while, saying that it wasn't very healthy with loads of oil and eggs. also, it's often eaten as a side dish, just a few bites each, so it wouldn't be a good idea to make it for one or two people.



we talked about spanish food culture, how spanish people often have big meal for lunch in the afternoon, and then have dinner a bit later, unlike the brits who would have their tea at five.

In the same vein, it's easy to find a bulleted list of the top foods of a country, but a shared meal is more than individual ingredients and tastes, it's an all senses experience, tying together culture and friendship, breaking down barriers; a catalyst for connection.