Volunteering in Ile D'Hoedic, France

Immerse Yourself in a Cross-Cultural Experience on a Small Budget

by Netanya Stutz

I’d love to say I gave six months of my time to rebuild a third world country and provide starving children with drinking water and proper nourishment. But I didn’t. My reason to volunteer in a foreign country was purely selfish.

I wanted to take a solo extended journey overseas on a minimal budget and have an opportunity to make friends along the way. I wanted to experience a new culture, be someplace unlike anywhere I’d ever been, and learn new skills, perspectives, and ways of life. Volunteering on Ile D’Hoedic, a remote French island, with 10 other international young adults for three weeks sounded like the perfect option.

I had no idea what to expect from this island, but I figured we’d camp out and perhaps catch fish to roast over an open campfire for dinner. I pictured a place where inhabitants lived off the land with no modern-day technology. Otherwise, why would they need a team of volunteers? I was prepared to rough it.

What I found was paradise in the purest form—a miniature French village with modern-day conveniences in a setting of natural perfection. No cars were allowed. There were no police because none were needed. The town pub stayed open as long as patrons wanted to stay. Men played bocce in the street and dogs roamed freely.

We didn’t camp out. We all slept in Le Fort, an army barracks from the 1840s that was never actually used. The other dorm rooms were used for tourists on the weekends. Le Fort soon hosted intra-island dinners and dance parties with multilingual conversations and multicultural music.

We were in fact on Ile D’Hoedic to complete a project, and the locals were incredibly grateful. On our second night the town held a meeting to welcome us and to thank us for our anticipated contribution. The 80 people who live year-round on this far-away island were eager to get to know us. Volunteers became celebrities.

On our third day a 50-year-old, short and skinny French-man, with strikingly white hair and a cigarette permanently attached to his lips led our group to our worksite. We carried a collection of machetes, axes, picks, and saws. Most of us were unsure how to use any of them. Our project was to clean up a stretch of land that had been devastated in a storm years before. The area was alongside a pond and inaccessible because of fallen branches and overgrown trees and weeds. An ancient stone wall bordering the pond also needed to be reassembled. We learned how to use our tools by trial and error and soon we were hauling away dead branches, surfacing mud-drenched stones, and trimming foliage.

With each day that passed our worksite became more and more inviting. Locals walking by remembered how the area looked before the storm and were excited to have it back again. We were also quite pleased by our handiwork.

We couldn’t all communicate verbally with each other, but we spent our free time as a group anyway—lounging and playing on the beach in the remaining hours of sunshine after a hard day’s work. Every foot knows how to kick a ball and every hand knows how to catch one. And when we all laughed at the same time we knew we were all speaking the same language.

Dinner was my favorite time of day. The volunteers took turns in pairs preparing meals for the entire group, which often included locals. From African flat bread to crepes to curry, we enjoyed a range of creations made even more enjoyable by the company of friendly strangers.

I had a collection of new friends from all over the world; my French was improving on a daily basis; and I was immersed in a unique environment—all without spending an extra dollar on top of the modest fee required by the volunteer organization. Each day was a learning experience, whether it was how to catch clams, or how American politics affects life in Europe. I wasn’t just learning about a new culture; I was being cultured.

After three weeks our project was complete and exceeded the expectations of the locals. The stone wall stood strong and a long path shielded by voluptuous trees created a perfect hideaway for bird watching, relaxing, or enjoying the company of friends. We made tables and chairs out of logs and stumps and even a natural ashtray for the overwhelming smoking majority.

On our last night we had a party on our worksite. The locals brought food, drinks, musical instruments, and T-shirts for all of us. We celebrated late into the night.

Although I still don’t feel noble about my contribution, it feels good to know I helped make a difference.

Netanya Stutz lives in Washington, DC.