Cityboy gives farming a second try

When I was a kid, my mom and uncle used to call me an “appartment-cowboy/farmer” (huaso de departamento).

They grew up in a farm, where my grandfather had one tree of just about everything you can think of. I remember fighting the bees for figs when I was a kid. There were raspberries, avocados, peaches, apricots, pomegranates, etc. My mom even created a Franken-tree—half of it produced apples and the other half pears.

“There goes a tree,” my granddad would say when throwing fruit seeds out the window. The annoying habit resulted in that the house was fenced by trees that grew around it and would not let any sunshine through.

On top of all the trees and plants, there were also ducks, chickens, and at some point a pig. Across the street there was a dairy farm, and you could buy milk straight out of the cow (and drink it while it was still warm).

I, on the other hand, grew up in a house in the middle of Santiago, where there were no chickens, pigs or avocado trees. I played soccer on paved roads, not mudfields; my food came from the grocery store, not the backyard; milk was the white powder that made water tasty, and Nintendo games rocked.

When I was five years old, my mom took me to my grandfather’s farm and told me to go play with the chickens.

“These are not chickens,” I argued,

“Real chickens have no feathers,” I added after spotting the confusion on mom’s face.

My mom was disheartened—she was raising a cityboy. I didn’t care much, but I had to endure the constant teasing of my uncle and mom about my ignorance of the countryside.

Two years ago I decided to mend paths and give gardening a try. Being the urbane cityboy I am, the first thing I did was search the internet for tips on how to grow vegetables. I bought seeds and little plants, and off I was in my adventure.

The garden failed in the following order:

1. I chose the wrong spot…the plants only got about 4 hours of direct sunlight a day.
2. Every time I worked on the garden, a cloud of mosquitoes feasted on my blood
3. A mean band of squirrels attacked my lettuce every night.
4. I got pissed of having my lettuce eaten by squirrels. I harvested it and ate it in one go (It was enough to make salad for one).
5. There were torrential rains. The sewage system of the city collapsed and my neighbourhood flooded. My garden ended up half a meter under water.
6. I should have grown seaweed.
7. In the end, I harvested 5 tomatoes and one salad. I spent over 30 bucks.

Two years later, I am ready to redeem myself. With the help of my landlord who is also growing food, I am giving gardening a second try. So far, things look promising, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed.