It’s common for visitors to Mexico to get sick from any number of things: bad water, contaminated food, high altitude, or whatever. In fact, it’s so common that the condition is simply known as turista, which, duh, translates to tourist. I must have dodged a few bullets during my first week here because last night I ate at a stand I’d previously patronized. Dude who … Continue reading Turista
I don’t have a smartphone. Seems this simple fact is becoming more abnormal and inconvenient with the passage of time. I mean, really. My guides in the Sahara Desert had smartphones. I witnessed homeless people in Seville using smartphones. Shoot, even both of my parents have smartphones (no, this is not a joke). Technologically speaking, I’m not even a dinosaur, I’m like a freaking amoeba. … Continue reading Pass it Up
I’ve traveled many times to Mexico, but only to the Baja peninsula. I always sought off-beat destinations: the mud ruins of a Jesuit mission from the 1700s, an island lined with rotting shipwrecks, mysterious cave paintings hidden in high mountain ranges, and deserted beaches where I listened to songs of whales while staring at winter stars. That’s my Mexico. But as the plane makes its … Continue reading Dog in Mexico
Doing feeds at Farm Sanctuary got me in shape. No doubt. My housemate told me that once during a feeds shift she wore a pedometer and clocked her mileage at 12 miles. I typically did feeds five days/week, logging me more walking miles than I typically ran when training for an ultra. Needless to say, I slept well. On my last day there I lugged … Continue reading A Day of Feeds
For some time now I’ve been asking myself why. Why did I choose to work a ten week stint as an animal caregiver at Farm Sanctuary? Even some of my best friends have looked at me all confused as if my choice contradicted, well, something. Before I arrived, I had a quick answer that rolled off my tongue—I sought intentional separation from real life where … Continue reading The Edge is a Gift
I’m awake before my eyes are open. There’s an echo of banging in my mind. A sound memory. I didn’t hear it as it happened, but now I’m aware how badly I need to piss. Or maybe that’s what woke me up and the first place? My windows whistle, the pressure outside sucks my closed bedroom door tight against the jamb. It’s a soft pressing, … Continue reading Sleepwalk
Since starting my temporary position at Farm Sanctuary on December 15th, I’ve mostly been responsible for the daily feedings of the 400+ animals. This sounds like a lot, but considering that many animals are free-fed birds, it’s actually a manageable number. I learned quickly, however, that I’d need to hustle, big time, to get everything done. It also benefits me to act like I know … Continue reading A Mile in Their Hooves
Today, the first day of the new year, I cleaned a chicken’s asshole. Don’t think I need to say this was my first time, but it was. After gloving up, I identified the chicken needing a thorough wiping. I grabbed her by the tail and carefully held her steady with two hands before tucking her under my left arm. Then, using a handling technique taught … Continue reading Cleaning a Chicken’s Butthole
I asked the shop owner if she wouldn’t mind explaining the significance of the Portuguese rooster motif. She locked her arms on the checkout counter and leaned forward, eyeballing me over her glasses. “Yes, I would mind. It’s a stupid story. If you really want to know, it’s on a poster in the corner. Have at it.” I read it, and she was right. As … Continue reading A Month in Morocco (Final Entry): My Foreign Home
As I sifted through a pile of second-hand sweaters on the sidewalk, two children, maybe eight or nine years old, extended their dirty hands towards me. One wore a tank top and greasy cut off khakis, the other was dressed in oversized shorts and a coat branded across the chest with orange letters J-A-C and K-E-T split by the zipper. Both held an empty plastic … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Hijacked
Tom Griffen 
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