An hour's work worth of beer

As I was walking by the local liquor shop tonight, I decided to stop in (not unusual). As usual, I perused the selection of expensive beer, cheaper beer-substitute, and the cheapest "third-generation" beer substitute substitute.

Now, I'll be honest. Kirin, Asahi, Sapporo, their all pretty much crap relative to real beer such as those brewed in Kalamazoo. In fact, they don't really differ much from the beer-susbstitutes. Yes, there may be a slight difference, but I can almost guarantee that without seein the label, most people would not be able to tell them apart -though most people like to believe that they can. Anyway, I usually feel that if I am willing to stoop to the level of Asahi or Kirin just to save a few yen by not buying the imported belgian, I might as well stoop a micro-step lower.

Tonight however, was different. Tonight I was feeling rich. Tonight my eyes wandered to the big can of Ebisu. Ebisu is still nothing compared to the belgian or a Two Hearted ale, but it does have a hint of beer flavor, and it is more than a micro-step above both the other beers and the beer substitutes.

Why was I feeling rich? Because today I did my first paying work since... well since my contract with my old client ran out in the end of August. Sure it hasn't been that long, but it's more about the feeling I guess. As I walked home though, I reflected on the difference between the paying work. Namely, that when I was working behind the computer, the can of ebisu cost me a few minutes and a little pain in my wrist. Today's beer cost me almost an hour's work, and a wonderful soreness in seldom used muscles.

Today I finally got started working with a local farmer (just over an hour from my apartment). It's technically on a volunteer basis, but they give a "thank you gift" of 500 yen per hour (about US$5). When I think about it, I realize that this is the lowest wage I have ever earned since I was seventeen and working at Burger King for minimum wage -which I think was about $4.75 then.

Of course, I am getting other benefits from working there as well. Besides about 1000 yen worth of fresh picked veggies, I also get to learn some new stuff, like where my food comes from. My fascinating find of the day was learning how myoga grows, and even more fun, how to harvest it. I was also surprised to find that this farmer's work style is very fitting to someone like me who has a short attention span. Basically, in order to fill all the orders, we hopped around from field to field, greenhouse to greenhouse for most of the day spending about an hour at each place to pick just enough of whatever grows there to fill the orders. There was also some planting and soil preparation work which was also split up into short bursts of energy. It's nothing like the monotonous work I had long imagined.

Anyway, I will be going back to the same farmer tomorrow for another nine-hour work day at below minimum wage, and then again Sunday together with Tomoe.

Between his rugged looks, the beautiful green, the wrinkled grandpa, the cute kids, and the old house, I saw soooooo much that made my shutter finger itch, but I have some ideas for a more disciplined photo-essay type project so I am waiting to build a relationship with the farmer and his family before I start annoying them with a camera in their face.

To comemorate this farming moment, I have posted some self-portraits from back in Sweden when I was sporting the "farmer" look. I am now back to my boyishly beardless self, but it was an interesting experiment while it lasted.