"How long are you staying?"

Torri Superiore, day three.

I got here on Wednesday, in the late afternoon, after a long and pleasant day of tribulations.  I had come from Marseille and got dropped off in Nice for a quick swim in the Mediterranean Sea (it's the Cote d'Azur; who needs a bathing suit?!), followed by a bit of impromptu slacklining with some local people I met on my walk to the train station. 

Swimming in the Mediterranean:
Check!

I bought a baguette and some cheese, and caught the train that would cross the border into Ventimiglia, Italy.

I arrived in Torri a bit later than I had expected, which meant that I wouldn't get to do my share of work-exchange before spending my first night here.

I was told that there were no other guests at the moments, and that there might also not be much work for me to do.  "I can walk the dog" I said while immediately realizing how stupid the comment was.  "No, I'm sure we'll find something for you," said Simmons, "Let me find Nina, she must be around somewhere."  And he left me in the office for a little bit.  

I browsed through the library and found a small section of books in English.  There were a few titles I was interested in: "It's the End of the World as We Know it, and I could use a Drink," "The Transition Handbook: from Oil Dependency to Local Resilience," or perhaps one of the many titles on the topics of Ecovillages or permaculture.... but in the end I decided to borrow a book  about the works and legacies of the great Sufi mystic, Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi.  It looked like a small and powerful book, and I thought it would draw a nice thread to my recent sojourn in Istanbul.  I hadn't known this before Ezgi told me, but Rumi spent a lot of his life (between 1228 and 1241) in the Anatolian city of Konya, where he is now buried.

I met Nina, Korean-born, adopted by German parents and she showed me through to stone labyrinth to my room.

Torri Superiore is home to about 25 permanent dwellers.  Most are Italians and Germans; and the common language is Italian.  The kids all speak both Italian and German, plus a bit of English! 

There are more people involved and living here temporarily.  Some are here as seasonal workers, like Adrien (from France), who came specifically for olive harvest, or Ido (from Germany) who came to visit his brother and gather gallons of olive oil to go sell in Switzerland.  Others seem to have a more "long-time noncommittal relationship" with the community, like Simmons, who is originally from Australia (but spent many years in British Columbia and Vermont) and who contributes with his expertise in organic farming.  Dusan is a young Serbian man who's been working here for the past couple months while looking into buying some land in the area.  Peter says he comes here four times per year, to take a vacation from Berlin, and to spend some time with his son Daniel, who is the initiator of this marvelous experience.  

Adrien enjoys a glass of wine during lunchtime
taking a break from picking olives all morning.

In the early stages of the project, it was all about restoration of this historical building.  The building was in ruins, and it took a couple of years of extremely hard work to fix it, before Daniel and Nina could move in.

"It was all about bringing life back," he tells me, "Bringing life back to the place... and to our self."

"And what does one need to know in order to do this?" I asked longingly. "Plumbing and electricity and stuff?  How to build things? Right?"

"You learn by doing it.  That's what we did."

Today, Torri Superiore is a marvelous little village onto itself, a veritable hamlet; with its many living quarters, its kitchen and two-level dining room (big enough to accommodate up to eighty workshoppers/tourists during the high season), its carpentry room, yoga room, playroom, rooftop spaces, etc.  Everything is beautiful, and highly functional!  

There are as many different models of ecovillages as there are communities.  I'm told that what makes this one special is the historical building, and the fact that it is located in a touristic area.  This allows for Torri Superiore to generate the greater fraction of its income through organizing classes and workshops, and hosting tourists from all over Europe.

This money belongs to the cultural association and can be reinvested in the ecovillage.  But what we have here is a mixed economy system, (i.e. living quarters are owned privately) which means that each person is also responsible for their own finances..

An Italo-German picnic = a feast!
(yes, we ate for over an hour)

Community living tends to be cheaper than "mainstream living", because it allows for the sharing of many skills and resources.  

Unfortunately, the steepness and quality of the land here brings many agricultural challenges, so a lot of the food has to be bought from the city.   Moreover, Torri Superiore has to abide by county and regional development regulations and all, so they have yet to be granted the permits they need in order to install more solar panels and become more energetically self-sufficient.  In the meantime, they also get their electricity, and the aqueduct system (and the internet, of course) from the "outside world".

  

As far as leadership goes, they have explained to me that important decisions are made through consensus, and that minor ones are generally decided by whomever deems them important enough to show up to the meeting.

They've been meeting weekly for twenty years.

There are three main subgroups to address different issues in specific areas: the guest house, farming, and the building.  

However, everyone takes turn doing certain tasks, and all must volunteers in other areas.  

My understanding is that these groupings have occurred somewhat organically, as each person gravitated towards their area of interest.

Picking olives involves hitting branches in order to make the fruits fall down,
and gathering them in big nets.

  

Which brings me back to one of my initial observations upon arriving here.
I wandered around the building, familiarizing myself with the silence of the valley and trying to figure out my way up and down and around.  So I encountered and greeted a few people ("Ciao!"), and what I found noticeable was how they all, without exception, asked me the same exact question after the initial "where are you from?".  They all asked: "How long are you going to stay?"

This, to me, points to the core of an experience like this.  It's all about time; it's all about commitment.  

I am finding/feeling some clarity since I've been here.  It's certainly easier without the distractions of the city; without grocery stores and shopping malls, without street lights, and without locks on the doors.  It's easier to feel good, centered.  

And perhaps it also helps that I have actually been working quite hard.  Harvesting olives in the mountains, working physically, concretely, climbing trees like I never imagined I could climb trees before... focussing on keeping a stable foothold, staying focussed and in the moment, with nature, amongst trees pregnant with yet another miracle of life.  No time to see my mind run astray into the future.

  

And so for now I must go to sleep.

Though there is much more to share...

Fruits of our labor