Ruralco
After a whirlwind weekend of activities, I was curious to see how this household would flow on workdays. On Saturday and Sunday, the casa was silent until about 10 am, after which people carefully emerged from their caves. Some not until noon.
Not so on Monday morning.
When I walked downstairs at 9 am, people were whizzing through like well-coordinated ants.
Coffee aroma, tea kettle bubbling, the smell of toast. Scrambled eggs and spinach on the stove, porridge leftovers in a bowl, half a banana in its peel. Laptops were carried to and fro like babies in a daycare centre.
This household meant business.
The salon (lounge) with the oversized couch and fireplace also serves as our office. One wall is lined with desks and sockets. We have naturally gravitated towards personalised little hubs along there.
While making financial decisions, writing project proposals or setting up marketing strategies, the majestic green mountains goggle at us through the large windows. "Why don't you come out and play?"
Oskar walks around with earplugs in his ears -he is in a meeting- his laptop held up in front of him while he juggles a plate of fried eggs in the other, speaking business lingo in Polish.
Joe rolls a squeeky wheelbarrow piled with logs past us to refuel the fire, giving the room a nice, smokey air.
Nara is snuggled on the sofa with her laptop and pods. She mouths: "I have a presentation all day today. But I just need to listen."
Later, I find her in the kitchen preparing a cake. "How is your presentation going?" I ask her. "It's good; I am still in it." The cake mix smells rich and sweet.
Gianni is mopping the kitchen floor meticulously and wiping down surfaces that probably haven't seen a cloth in a while. She is also the one who showed me around on day one. She floats through the house like a quiet butterfly, but I strongly suspect she is the one who secretly runs this household.
At around 2 pm, we eat lasagna and salad together, and after a quick communal swoop, clearing the table and the dishes, people scatter around the house. Some slide back to their workstation; some go down for a siesta. Gianni and I go for a hike. "I am coming, mountains!"
Business as usual?
December 13, 2023
|
Ruralco, culla
After a whirlwind weekend of activities, I was curious to see how this household would flow on workdays. On Saturday and Sunday, the casa was silent until about 10 am, after which people carefully emerged from their caves. Some not until noon.
Not so on Monday morning.
When I walked downstairs at 9 am, people were whizzing through like well-coordinated ants.
Coffee aroma, tea kettle bubbling, the smell of toast. Scrambled eggs and spinach on the stove, porridge leftovers in a bowl, half a banana in its peel. Laptops were carried to and fro like babies in a daycare centre.
This household meant business.
The salon (lounge) with the oversized couch and fireplace also serves as our office. One wall is lined with desks and sockets. We have naturally gravitated towards personalised little hubs along there.
While making financial decisions, writing project proposals or setting up marketing strategies, the majestic green mountains goggle at us through the large windows. "Why don't you come out and play?"
Oskar walks around with earplugs in his ears -he is in a meeting- his laptop held up in front of him while he juggles a plate of fried eggs in the other, speaking business lingo in Polish.
Joe rolls a squeeky wheelbarrow piled with logs past us to refuel the fire, giving the room a nice, smokey air.
Nara is snuggled on the sofa with her laptop and pods. She mouths: "I have a presentation all day today. But I just need to listen."
Later, I find her in the kitchen preparing a cake. "How is your presentation going?" I ask her. "It's good; I am still in it." The cake mix smells rich and sweet.
Gianni is mopping the kitchen floor meticulously and wiping down surfaces that probably haven't seen a cloth in a while. She is also the one who showed me around on day one. She floats through the house like a quiet butterfly, but I strongly suspect she is the one who secretly runs this household.
At around 2 pm, we eat lasagna and salad together, and after a quick communal swoop, clearing the table and the dishes, people scatter around the house. Some slide back to their workstation; some go down for a siesta. Gianni and I go for a hike. "I am coming, mountains!"
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