Monday 20 June 2011

A lot of people donated their time to La Solitaria Caseta Verda that summer. So many in fact that Bryan Gables was not put up in a cave or tree house as he’d hoped, but rather one of the four caravans borrowed from a local resort to cope with extra personnel. They had been parked temporarily in a muddy lot converged upon by the public every Sunday for a swap market, free tours, produce tasting and live music. And even though the shower and toilet were inoperative, it was difficult to feel as green as the others amongst those Laminex fittings and that linoleum floor.

Many of the newcomers held Phillip and his pioneering facility, which had garnered great media attention over the years, from newspaper articles to a feature documentary on the National Geographic channel, in godlike esteem. Others arrived with prearranged roles; two Japanese horticulturalists were overseeing the production of carob syrup at the island’s only factory, a Chilean builder was turning a shallow cave that had recently been discovered in scrubland on the outskirts of the property into another volunteer housing, a beautiful Norwegian woman would be the resident masseuse, an events organiser from Chicago had turned the office into a promotional headquarters for Earthdance, which was to take place in early August. And some, like Bryan, were uninitiated Westerners, hitherto the definition of all that La Solitaria Caseta Verda stood against, hoping to be afforded a glimpse of a better, more natural – and therefore more human – way of existing.

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