I went to visit a shaman [in Copenhagen], and she told me I should try and become a goat. I think she was quite right.
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So in the Alps, I had to use a pressure cooker at night to cook the grass I’d chewed up during the day, and spat into my not-quite artificial rumen. I was getting some energy/nutrition from the grass, but definitely not enough to survive on, so I had to resort to eating other food as well
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I think I made friends with a particular goat. We seemed to follow each other around as we grazed. There was a moment, though, where I looked up and saw I was in the middle of the herd, and everyone else had stopped chewing and was staring at me. It was like I’d inadvertently committed some sort of goat faux pas. Their horns suddenly looked pretty sharp. This was a scary moment, really. But then, a single goat, my goat friend I think, walked right through the center of the silent staring herd and sort of diffused the tension, and we all moved off along the hill together.