Today was the first time I got to drive up in to the big white north since my experience at a New England Hippie Kingdom. I had forgotten a lot of my time up in Massachusetts. But seeing snow brought it all back. I initially got the job through my friend. And me being adventurous, I decided to give it a go. The official job title was “teacher.” The unofficial job title is “hippie teacher at an outdoor education camp for children.” I drove up there in my little car, and when I drove into Massachusetts at the first toll booth the guy says to me “no change” I thought, how does he know how much money I have that he knows he has no change for me. Then I asked, “How much???” Again, he said, “No change.” Oh c’mon he’s not omniscient I say again, “HOW MUCH????” Then I heard him say, “no chaaaaaaaaaaarge.” With that Massachusetts accent that I had only heard on TV. I had just arrived in a different world.
There were 6 teachers and 1 site director at the camp. We all lived in a house together. I shared a room with one other girl. The first week is where the director takes the teachers around the camp so they can learn the trails and what’s expected of them. The first mission of the very first day was to hike to the graveyard. I looked at the other people and wore jeans and boots like they did. There was snow up to my knees. I had to lift my leg with every step. The director who I’ll refer to as “Rasta Boss” would stop every now and then and point out some tree and what different property it had. We had to chew some green plant and then we had green spit. This is supposed to be cool for children. But I was bored and the cold was seeping into my skin. I tried to pay attention to the boring tree lectures but all I could think was that now my jeans were wet up to mid-thigh. Isn’t this how frost bite happens? And what about gangrene? I don’t want any of that just for listening to some hippie talk about trees. I kept my composure until we got to the graveyard, then I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I started crying. I didn’t know how I would be able to trudge back through all that snow. How come everyone else looked interested in these trees?? Weren’t they cold to the bone also? One of the other teachers saw me crying and told me that we didn’t have to go back through the woods, we were right at the road and could walk back to the house on the road. I mustered up my strength and off I went back to the house. Rasta boss was still talking crap about trees, but I walked right on by with my knowledge that warmth was just a ½ mile away.
I warmed up with a hot shower but soon realized that this was normal to all these northern people. They actually thought it was fun to hike in the snow. They thought it was normal to wear 6 layers of clothes. I really had some heavy thinking to do that day. Nothing I had seen so far was natural for me. I really did want to succeed. I had managed to live in England for 8 months, why not Massachusetts for 3. One of the other teachers told me that I need better clothes if I’m going to hike in the snow. So she took me to the nearest town and I got waterproof pants, nylon socks and some sort of nylon long underwear shirt. She told me how to gear up so that I didn’t get wet at all. And with 4 layers on and waterproofing on the outside she was right. It might take 30 minutes to get dressed, but it’s possible. I was able now to hike in the snow with no trouble. First lesson learned.
Let me tell you about Rasta boss. He was from central upstate New York, and the biggest hippie you could ever imagine. He had his hair in dreadlocks. They were so long that his momma must have started weaving them things from when he was a baby. He was so NATURAL that he didn’t cut his facial hair, but he couldn’t really grow a proper beard. EVERY time I looked at him I wanted to take a pair of scissors to his face and at least even out his half weird beard. It looked horrible. He needed to give nature a little help, because even in bible times they had grooming objects. He must have thought he was from the stone age though because he wasn’t helping nature out. Where ever the hair grew or didn’t grow, he didn’t change it. You know Rasta boss has to be a vegan right? Nothing animal at all will go into his body. Maybe that’s why his facial hair only grew in half the places. The most ironic thing about this rasta vegan hippie is that he drove a car with leather interior. So a whole cow died just so he could sit on it every day. But he can’t even eat an egg.
In the south I am considered a tree hugger. I recycle my plastics, glass and paper. I would probably compost if I had a garden. But one thing I’m not going to listen to is hippies talking about global warming when there is 2 foot of snow outside. When the environmental conversations got started, I called them all crazy, well, because they were. For some strange reason I didn’t fit in. I realized that I am not a hippie and never will be and I wasn’t that surprised when I was asked to leave. The most important thing I learned from my time at Hippie Kingdom is that I am a true southerner and will never ever live in a place where they have snow plows on standby or where people really believe in global warming.
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