On Riding the Chombi

This Saturday, riding the chombi (public bus) for about two hours in total allowed me to grow accustomed to it’s rhythms, and thus, a rhythm of Lima. The bus accelerates and stops abruptly, over and over and over again. Street vendors move in and out of the bus, selling Sublime chocolate and every type of packaged food: candied reddish peanuts covered in sesame seeds, chocolates with almonds, snacks made of quinoa. Each time we rode the bus, once to the central market and once back to La Molina, some man would board the bus and assertively give the well rehearsed story of difficult life and misfortunes. On the bus ride back, the man also had a child. “they use the children,” my companion told me before he began his speech. The child’s head lolled to the side. I found myself wondering if this child would grow to participate in this lifestyle or choose another. I wondered if he would live that long… In the moment of this thought, I realized I had never seen a truly sick and vulnerable baby, one whose life could soon vanish. When the man finished his speech, I was surprised to see almost everyone on the bus hand a few coins to the man. After my companion gave her coins to the man, he left the bus, all the while feeding the baby a part of a granola bar a passenger had given him. Half ended up falling to the dirty bus steps. “A social problem,” my companion commented after the man left the bus.

As we rode across the city, my companions explained the main streets. “This street we are passing over the top of is Javier Prado. It runs from east to west in the city.” The street we were traveling on was part of the Pan-South American highway. It runs from north to south along the cost of al Peru. “It is the most important highway in Peru. It even runs up to Ecuador and Colombia,” they told me. WE passed the most modern shopping center I’ve ever seen with spectacular modern sculpture, lights, and fountains. 15 minutes later, we passed the mountains of los Barrios Altos, the High Neighborhoods. I was struck by the bricks and thousands of wooden shipping palates stacked on top of the houses and buildings. This is the most dangerous district of Lima.

It was an even busier than usual Saturday in the central market of Lima. First, we visited the Chinese store, where my companions bought some of the most inexpensive tea I’ve ever encountered. They loved to shop, so I felt liberated to explore everything in the market. It seems where ever I go in the world, there will always be a little China town, a Chinese market, and thus a little bit of my friends from home. After their attempt to purchase a quarter of the tea in the shop, we chose one of the countless chifa restaurants (chifa is Peruvian Chinese). We ate so hunger that we were not talking much. As we ate, we heard silverware slam onto a table. A stalky, angry man pushed back his chair away from his family, and stood aggressively in front of the waiter. In an instant, the entire kitchen staff emerged, stepping between the two men, the restraining the thin and firely angry young waiter. The kitchen staff successfully removed their friend, and the family left. When the waiter reappeared, many in the restaurant said things to the waiter like, “what a disagreeable family. It’s not your fault.” To me, the camaraderie for the waiter, and the waiter for his job, was pronounced.

Next, we wove our way out of China town and into the market, where everything you might desire can be found for an incredibly cheap price. “This is the oldest market in Lima,” my companion told me. The inside of the market holds fruit, vegetables, and a meat market. The only circulation in this old two level building is through the door. Here, all the rank odors of the market collect. Out of the many open, rectangular white sacs, we purchased spices and herbs for dinner that night.

Cooking in the Peruvian kitchen is not unlike driving in Peru. Everything appears close to disaster, to boiling over, or to burning. However, it resulted in the most beautiful and delicious meal I've shared here. Surprisingly, we made the exact dishes I chose to cook for my Peruvian preparation dinner: papas a la Huancayina and arroz con leche. In a country of delicious food, homemade still remains unbeatable.

Reflecting on the day in the central market of Lima, I am amazed at the cooking, the market, and my kind friends. However, my amazement is happily based in the present. How good it feels to be here, with myself, and the paper, reflecting on a day simply… lived.

Back in Lima, a friend

Saturday morning at 6am, the warm, humid Lima air greeted my body, overheated and uncomfortable from the seven hour night bus through the mountains. Returning to Lima to escape the cold had been the goal for the last few days. How happy I was to see the familiar sights of Lima. I rode home with Marisol and her spouse, looking out the window at the now familiar billboards, restaurants, stores, the agricultural university and the Peruvian ministry of agriculture lands near CIP. They chatted with me and told me that I should run an 8K marathon with them. In Spanish, a marathon is a race of any distance- not 26.2 miles, or the 42K they refer to The Marathon as. I happily agreed. How nice it is to be back in the warmth- back in Lima. 

Immediately upon arriving home, I washed up, and changed into running clothes. I wanted to do something purely physical after a week of feeling physically inadequate in the field. Ten minutes out, I found myself in the bathroom with the awful feeling of a rebellious stomach. Altitude sickness in the least expected place: from descending the mountain.

That afternoon, I went with Rocio and Nataly out to the biggest shopping center in Lima. Spectacular designer window displays and elegant architectural design reminded me of my small town origins. What a contrast from the fields one day ago in Huancayo. Returning to Rocio and talking to her about what I saw in Huancayo made me feel at home. We stood on the corner of a street in La Molina for an hour waiting for a friend to pick us up for our trip to the shopping center. The hot wind and exhaust of the autos felt normal, I knew how to ignore the whistles of passersby, and while I talked to Rocio candidly about my perceptions, I felt at home with a friend. Anywhere in the world, a friend can bring me a little bit of what I'll always search for: home

To Huancayo

03.06.2013 Lima, Peru

They have me thoroughly scared. "You will go up 1500 feet in three hours. Take the soroche pill every morning and night, and you can stagger ibuprofen with acetaminophen. When I was in the hospital they told me to stagger the codeine with ibuprofen. You will be working with about 30 local farmers. You'll be the slowest one in the pack."

4.06.2013, Huancayo, Junin, Peru

Today was the first day of work on the potato harvest in Huancayo, high in the Peruvian Andes. We left our hotel at 6am and did not reach the filed until 9am. The mountain roads are infrequently traveled by car or truck. Donkeys, horses, sheep, pigs, and people on foot are common. We saw so much of this on the way up the mountain that my thoughts of realizing how different this sight was subsided. Wheat and many potatoes and are grown here. It makes beautiful patches of color on the mountainsides lining the valley. Yellow flowers that remind me of rapeseed lined the road along with grasses that recall Iowa and astounding outcroppings of lichen-covered rock. The sky here is so bright blue with lofty white clouds- it is so different and refreshing from Lima. If I look up at the sky, I could easily be in Iowa. This has to be some of the most beautiful agricultural land in the world. And I wondered if agriculture would take me places...We worked with 22 local farmers. Since they are used to this type of farm work and the altitude, they can work much more quickly than the five of us from CIP. However, it was uncomfortably shocking to me that we were not going to help harvest. The CIP crew and I labeled potatoes all day, and this felt frustratingly simple next to the labor of the farmers around me. Finally, I got my hands in the dirt bagging potatoes. I immediately felt better about my work, even if I was slower than those around me. One woman was nice enough to say, "you're quick!" Since I was slower than the others, I expect this meant, "you are not as slow as I expected!" I took the compliment. 


The farmers cooked lunch to share with us in a special oven, the pachamanca, made by making a hole in the ground. First, a fire is lit and rocks are piled on top. After an hour of heating the rocks, the rocks are removed. Then potatoes, a layer of rock, meat, a layer of rock, and more potatoes are added. All this is covered by another layer of rock, earth, and finally green plants to cook for an hour. The potatoes were served by laying them out on blankets, and enormous portions of meat in tin bowels. There is something about eating meat with my hands, the sight of how my neighbor's portions make up an animal, and the still fresh smell of blood and sheep in the meat that I appreciated. I am going to avoid meat for a while again, but I appreciated that it was impossible to forget this food's origin. As much as I washed and showered, I can still smell it on my hands. 

Tonight I am tired and my body is sore, despite the small amount of work I did. How frustrating. What an adventure today was though! Despite how breathtaking it was, my favorite imagination right now is to go for a run in the Iowa countryside, cook and eat a vegetarian meal.

What a juxtaposition of reality, adventure, and imagination. 





07.06.2013 Huancayo, Junin Peru

It is very cold here. I am still freezing even though I am sitting in the hotel lobby. There is no heat in the hotel. The last two days on the mountain it rained, which made for a very cold an inefficient time harvesting. I am lucky I was not the one who had to harvest. Last night we went out for calientitos -hot Huancayan drinks- and one member of our crew ended up explaining a bit more about Latino culture to me, especially with respect to the local farmers who were working with us. He said as an agronomist here in Peru, you need to be firm, because to have to be able to keep control of field projects. "Our culture is strong. We don't ask please, do this, when we mean do it! I've noticed this from the language people use. Although I already has some idea from Spanish courses, it is different to experience the use of commands. When answering the phone, it's "Tell me," and when explaining things, it's "look at me," "listen to me," all as a command. The last few days, the disparity between the local farmers and our team from CIP bothered me a great deal. These farmers work bent over all day harvesting potatoes, and when I was not labeling, I could do nothing but stand there to wait. I tried to help one man carry a potato sac into the truck, and I got a barrage of "No no no no no no!" from my supervisor. It was good natured, but he also said, "you don't need to do that!" as a command. As much as I tried to help out with any task I could during this week, it was only acceptable for me to help with the tasks that were not physical. I understand this was due to the altitude, although I sense a cultural component as well. At 5000 meters, Huancayo is one of the highest places in Peru. Often, foreigners do not do well here. As out breath as I often was though, I did not feel sick. 

The local farmers impressed and humbled me. In the potato field at the top of the mountains in Huancayo, a favorite song echoed in my mind.
"I could see for miles, and miles, and miles,
And at once I knew I was not magnificent."

The local farmers very long lived- to 70 or 80 years, all are literate, and everyone is well fed. Food security I could tell from the culture around food, working in the fields, and looking at the people. The rest I gathered from speaking to my crew from CIP. The farmers speak a combination of Quechua and Spanish, so it made it difficult for me to talk to them in addition to the cultural that seemed to dictate I should not interact with them too much. I cannot imagine living where it rains so much and is so cold. However, I've worked my days in the Iowa winter as well. Watching them work made me feel horrible though. I know I can't do the work they do, carry as much as they can, or work as long as they can. The whole time I wanted so badly to work alongside them, even if it was for a little while. Even when my body would be proven much weaker and less skilled in the tasks. However, afraid of failing physically and afraid of breaking some cultural barrier, I refrained. I've had a lot to think about.

Holocene

Hol·o·cene adj. Of or belonging to the geologic time, rock series, or sedimentary deposits of the more recent of the two epochs of the Quaternary Period, beginning at the end of the last Ice Age about 11,000 years ago and characterized by the development of human civilizations (thefreedictionary.com). 2011 Bon Iver song off the album for Emma, Forever Ago. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWcyIpul8OE

Lima is the big city. I've never lived in the city before, and many times during my first week, I missed the smell of Iowa night air and running the gravel roads in the oceans of corn. More often than not, the view of the Lima mountains is hazy with humidity and splashed with grey from a dab of pollution. There are mountains though, and the colors of the trees, flowers, and houses enliven the scene. Before, I just tried not to breathe too deeply.

However, something changed this week. From Monday through Thursday, I rode the bus from my room in Miraflores district into La Molina to CIP (El Centro Internacional de la Papa). The first day at the bus stop, I arrived 30 minutes early for the bus. This amount of time allowed one passerby to consider it worth his time to ask me on a date for breakfast. I couldn't understand all of what he said to me, but I what I caught was that if I went out with him we would have the best time. Even after I boarded the bus, he was in the neighboring bus attempting to catch my attention. Unlike the week before, this didn't phase me too badly. Instead, my instinctual reaction was, isn't it a little early on a Monday morning? A week later, it is humorous. Being blonde here is like being a model, and I say this in the most factual way. At first, this was the worst thing for me about living in Peru. At restaurants, Rocio, Nataly, and I can get the quickest and most attentive service, and when we went out on Friday, there a steady supply of young men willing to dance even though I'd never properly danced salsa in my life. First people stared because I was blonde; then people stared when I mimicked the dance style of my friends.

Upon returning to my dormitory at CIP, I had first opportunity in a week to run. I left my room for the run I had looked forward to for a week. I ran through CIP to La Agraria, the agricultural university across the street. Unlike the last time I ran, I really breathed. I smelled the food from the university street vendors, the smell of the bus I ran behind, tasted the dirt on my teeth, and really explored the (what I estimate to be) 100 hectares of campus and agricultural trial fields. Behind the fields, I ran my first time, I found hectares of hidden citrus orchard. I ran up rows of citrus, and in the far corner of the campus, I found my favorite view. Here the mountains of Lima reclined in the sky, and rows of citrus trees with just ripening and brilliant fruits stretched below. The sun was setting, powdering the distance pink and grey. Momentarily, I stopped running to freeze this scene in my mind.

When I returned, I rearranged my room, placing the bed in the corner of the room. More room for activities! After showering, I got to work on another task I had never attempted before: washing three weeks of laundry by hand. Contently, I made myself dinner and hung my clothes, which would take several days to dry. With my things in order, I reflected on my run and my accomplishments. On Friday I would have the first of the reoccurring thought, I can't believe there are only six weeks left...

Tonight I looked back on my photos from Cusco, Valle del Colca, and Machu Picchu. Juxtaposed with Lima, the natural beauty emphasizes a different beauty in Lima: the contrast between natural and human civilization. Fortuitous describes the timing of the journey to Cusco and Arequipa before settling in Lima. Removed by time from the transplant shock, I appreciate the calm, agriculture, and beauty I saw high in the mountains. Lima retains bits of this. Never before have I seen agricultural fields inside a honking, sounding city like I do here at La Agraria and CIP. When I loose myself in the fields, I see Lima, Costa Rica, Sweden, Iowa... holocene.

After the First Week, Lima

What a week. Some hours in the lab were so repetitive and slow, but others flew by. I was counting seeds, extracting seeds from wild potato berries (bayas), and making labels. All this was for the collection of papas silvestres- wild potatoes. These are not edible, but are preserved for traditional breeding purposes. The main operator of this program is named Alberto Salas. He collected about 60% of the entire potato collection here at CIP- 3,000 to 4,000 varieties. The figure on the number of varieties is not exact to this date. Dr. Ellis, the supervisor of the gene bank, told me it is not officially know how many varieties A. Salas collected because many were collected while he was studying under his predecessor. Therefore in the literature, these potatoes were attributed to his predecessor. "We Salas' lab notebooks though," Dr. Ellis told me Friday night. "He was doing 12 or more collection trips per year when others were doing two or three." Dr. Ellis also described the method of collecting, which when told as a story, as he did, sounds like quite an adventure. First they would look through the records to determine the climate, land forms, and areas a potato was encountered and recorded in the past. Then, the collection team would drive there by bus. Alberto would look out the bus windows, and when he saw something promising, he would as the bus driver to stop (baja, baja), give candy out to all the other passengers to pacify them, and jump out to investigate. Dr. Ellis told me that on collecting trips together, they'd do the same,but in their own vehicle. After arriving in an area, Alberto would talk to local farmers, mechanics, and show owners to find where people had seen plants fitting their description. How incredibly rich the local knowledge. Alberto Salas is fluent in Spanish and Quechua, the native language of the interior. I am convinced this is invaluable.

What a legacy this lab has, and I've only just started here. Meanwhile, it is now the weekend, and I have moved to my home for the week in Miraflores. After this week, I will return to the dormitories at CIP. There is much more to see and do in Miraflores, but going out in the city scares me. I never quite feel safe here. There is always an underlying feeling of unease. I cannot blend in at all and I don't understand Spanish when unfamiliar words are spoken quickly. I get a lot of stares, and this makes me so uncomfortable. I went for a myrist run on Thursday evening. Evne though the view was beautiful- mountains, fields of all different types of crops, couples laying in the grass together, a brilliant full moon just starting to rise at the end of my run- I couldn't relax. There was still the backdrop of speeding cars, people speaking a language I strain to half- understand, people looking at me like they had never seen a runner (which cannot be true because I've seen runners here). Perhaps the stares are just my perception and not the reality. I want so badly to blend in and pass by unnoticed, going about my business, thinking my own private thoughts, etc.

This afternoon I began to feel more at ease with things. Dogs played in the soft late afternoon grass of the park nearby my house in Miraflores. How peaceful and beautiful. I had just made my first trip alone to the grocery store near my house. It was a success. I waited as long as I possibly could to go to the store, but after leaving my room, the city was significantly less threatening. This evening Rocio and I went for dinner, and I rode the chombi- public bus- for the first time. On the way back, Rocio told me I would have her respect if I hailed it myself. Success! All the while, I felt at ease. Something is beginning to change. I like it.

Bus from Arequipa to Lima

The Envy Corps blasts about the idling and air circulation system. If an observer guessed I am trying to drown my emotions out of my mind, they would be correct. There is nothing more English-speaking, United States, Midwest, Iowa, Ames, home, than the Envy Corps.

As the plane took off from San Jose, Costa Rica this spring, I looked out the window and inexplicably and uncomfortably found myself overwhelmed with emotion. What exactly I was feeling I was unsure. I am still unsure, but I have a better idea now. I knew this moment would arrive and reoccur in Peru. As I boarded the bus, I found my mind demanding, almost screaming, I want to speak English! I want to speak English at a million miles per hour! "Bienvenidos a bordo?" Bordo? What kind of word is that? Get your own word instead of adding an "o" to the end of an English word. There is clearly fault in this reasoning, and it is difficult for me to write this thought only moments later. Dare I acknowledge it occurred? However, to deny it would make things even more difficult. I realized, this is culture shock. My head is so full of Spanish I can't think of anything else. Even as I write this, my brain flash to Spanish. Mi cabeza... llena con Espanol. Get out! Just let me think!

My eyes fill and I look out the bus window. I put on the most middle grinding beat of the Envy Corps and recline my head back towards the evening sky. I watch a man packing bags into the bus next door, and I think about how real and normal this is. It is easy for me to watch and understand. I look at the lettering on this bus as a point of fixation, and thought of how selfish it was for my friends and family to be so worried when I left. It's my easily harmed small body and mind shipped here. I was immediately not proud of this thought either. This day has been full of primal thoughts such as these.

As I keep listening to the Envy Corps, I feel at home. I never do life the easy way- this is what makes Peru and learning another language my home and a part of me.

Esta vida: vale la pena.

Sunday Morning in Arequipa

The blares of police sirens cause pigeons to flap wildly and fly. Between the sirens, a man speaks over a microphone. It is Sunday morning in Arequipa and there is a demonstration on the street below our hotel. I am sitting on the rooftop and it is the first time in days I've been able to sit outside without a sweater or many sweaters. The iconic Volcan Misti is prominent in my view, and to my left I can see the beautiful colors of the city against the mountain range. The air is not fresh, but it is not rancid either. The city is anything but peaceful this Sunday morning.

Waking up to Spanish with Rocio and Nataly this morning seemed a little more normal, and yesterday I started feeling a touch more confident with my Spanish. Only a touch though. During the tour to the Colca Valley, I was one of three non-Peruvians. The other two were Chilean, and for this reason, I garnered attention simply by being there. There was fascination over my hair and questions about where I was from, followed by questions about the United States. The answer to all of this was that I was from the great corn state, Ohio. The conversations were simple, but I still felt a sense of accomplishment.

Yesterday evening while out to dinner with Rocio and Nataly, I felt a bit more comfortable to ask questions. We had a great time teaching each other different idiomatic expression. You can imagine the laughs over "party pooper"- aguafiestas in Spanish.

The journey thus far has been nothing like I imagined. I always imagined the night of restless sleep before the flight and a feeling of uncontainable excitement. How many times I've dreampt of my departure, always to Uganda in years of past dreams, I cannot count! Instead, most of the time I felt calm and with little emotion. Emotions came in punches, terribly excited and shouting to the sky, scared, and cacophonous mixtures of both. Now that I've been here a week, I still feel there has not been time to process everything. Things are becoming more normal though. The thought that home is three months away scares me a bit, and sometimes I find myself thinking fondly of the reunion I will have with Kerri, Becca, Ellen, Dylan, and IAAS friends from Sweden when we unite for IAAS world conference in Chile. But now my life for the next eight weeks... Vive el presente.

Puedes Quitarte el Chuyo?

May 18th
"Puedo sacar una foto juntas?" The smiling Peruvian woman, probably in her 40's, handed her camera to her husband. "Puedo sacarlo," and I gesture to the camera. "No, juntas!" "Conmigo??" ("No, together!" "With me??") "Si, si!" She laughed and continued, "Morena y la amiga blanca y rubia." (Dark haired with the pale blond friend). The shot fired. "Puedes quitarte el chuyo?" ("Can you take off your hat?") The smile came and I couldn't help but laugh. I have heard of this occurrence, but not in Peru, and it still surprised me.

As we drove down the road in our mini tour van, I looked out at the beauty of the raised fields and the vast diversity of plants. I found my thoughts likening myself to some zoo animal from far away... Maybe I am farther from home than I originally thought...

Machu Picchu

May 15th, 1:20pm
I cannot think of another way to begin: Machu Picchu. Even this is not satisfactory for a beginning, but it will have to do. As I write, I sit on one of the higher raised fields, and the view is unreal.  small wispy cloud is below between the mountains. This must be the closest I'll ever get to flying. The paper I am writing on is soaked.

Where to begin? It is difficult to describe the last three days since leaving Iowa. The last time I wrote was on the plane from Iowa to Dallas. However, it did not save on my ipod. From now on entries will occur on paper first. I was curious about the stories of the people around me, but there was not much space in my ind for much of anything. There was a man seated diagonal to me in the flight. I noticed his passport from El Salvador before boarding the flight. We held each others eyes for a split moment- we heard our cacophony of emotion. When our wheels left the runway, I was crying, but I was also laughing.

4:07pm
I had to take a break from writing to let the rain pass and to take a nap. I only slept for 20 minutes, but waking up here made it more real. It was time to begin investigating and thinking again.

El subia (climb) up the mountain began at 11:45am. Investigating the route and purchasing another day's admission delayed me from my original 9:20am start down the path. When I reached the base of the mountain, the guard sent me away. The walk back seemed much shorter once I knew the way. Wandering a bit in Aguas Calientes, also known as Macu Picchu pueblo, I encountered the Plaza de Armas and the Machu Piccu ticket office. Purchasing another admission- about $25 USD or 60 s/.- made me think twice, but only briefly. Regret is not a result of this expenditure. I equipped myself with two bottles of water, a small plantain, and a granola bar of quinoa and corn. My stomach had been sending me small pains on my left side on my way from the base of the mountain back to Aguas Calientes. I hoped this was hunger or dehydration, not altitude sickness. Regardless, I began.

On la camina from Aguas Calientes to the base of the mountain, there were two porters accompanying a group of middle aged US  hikers (based on their accent, but easily could have been of any European descent), presumably hikers from the Inca Trail. The two young Peruvian men bend under the cargo of the hikers and from the correct angle, only their mountain goat thin but strong legs betrayed how the bags moved. The oven on the right turned to half-smile to his friend- already many of his teeth were missing. Becoming a custom for this start of my trip, a sudden punch of emotion manifested. Here is where I begin to ask myself, what's wrong with this relationship? Is there indeed something wrong? This recalled my first venture into the countryside around Cusco. Our taxi hair pinned around the mountain, navigated people, dogs, and trucks among breathtaking mountain views. Homes made of long grass thatch caught my eyes along with a plastic wrapping emblazoned: USAUD. My travel companion Rocio outlined the projects of CIP (el Centro Internacional de la Papa), some with development and orange flesh sweet potato (camote). She told me there are many problems in the rural areas of Peru- water quality, education, health, and food security. Illiteracy and poverty in Peru is high-anywhere from 20% to 30% depending upon the type of poverty evaluation. Someone told me, "people even die of cold in the winter here. Things here represent to me more how things used to be." This begged the question in my mind, if this is the reality for people today, isn't this just a comforting thought, not a truth?

Seeing these young men and my conversation with Rocio made me question harshly the depth of my cultural exchanges thus far. In IAAS and with Rocio and Nataly, I've been interacting with a specific sector of the population: young, educated, and middle to upper class. How much am I stretching myself by repeating this? Another part of me says, one step at a time, Genna. One step at a time. Nonetheless, I hope I can work on the weekends or evenings in some type of volunteer project or organization. I have many precautions about these types of projects as well, but first hand experience will be the best mode of evaluation.

What detail a camera cannot catch. Upon looking up from my post at writing, I notice a cloud rolled into the interior around the centeral tree that facinates me. The clouds can be seen as clustered of vapor particles, carried on convection currents of countless layers and shapes that call to mind the mysterious: souls of the deal, hands of Incan dios, Gandalf's pipe.

At this point, I got kicked out of the park. I stayed until 5pm, which was an hour longer than I should have stayed. Upon disembarking, I realized darkness would fall more quickly than the time in which I could descend from the mountain. When I realized this, I picked up my pace quite a bit...


May 16th
As I write, the scenery passes at a calm rate. Traveling by train as romantic as I imagined. Mountains house beauty of humbling height. Ademas, the vegitative biodiversity is visible, overwhelming, and beautiful beyond description, even by photograph. You need the panorama, the movement of grazing cows, pigs, and llamas in teh fields, the feel smell, mood of the air. The vegetation is dry-subtropical with rapeseed, prickly pear, agave, trees speckling the coat of the land. Then the farms: mixtures of wheat, maize, potato, lima bean, and many I cannot recognize. Houses are made of sod, clay, open windows, and laundry hanging in the open air. Fires burn, mothers tend to children, children run after livestock, adults rest and converse. Observing the strong current of the river, it's green tint and foamy tops. I wonder at how quickly its cold strong arms would carry my body away. The train rocks to and fro over the tracks, and the sound of the train is passing and syncopated: cha-cha, cha-cha-  cha-cha, cha-cha-

Wrapping Up Loose Ends: Goals

It's been since IAAS National Summit since I wrote. Here I will briefly tie up loose ends from the preceding months. At IAAS National Summit, the lovely and professional Victoria Barth was elected as National Director for IAAS USA. I have since been elected as president of IAAS at Iowa State University. I am incredibly excited to work with Victoria and the rest of our new national executive team. There are currently four goals at various levels that I have in IAAS. First, plan and fund raise for world Congress 2014 in the USA. Secondly, help our new USA executive team get to World Congress 2013 in Chile. Third, plan a World Food Prize exchange week in October. And finally, get our local Iowa Wines Seminar off the ground. We have already arranged for our two first exchange program students. Our first will be a Belgian student; he will work at the ISU Horticulture Research Station this summer. Our second will be this fall with a student from IAAS Hohenheim who will work with the IAAS alumni at the CSA (community sustained agriculture) Table Top Farm.

The Take Less, Give More Water Initiative also has some loose ends to tie up. In the fall, we hope to move forward by starting pen pal relationships with the people in the area of our charity:water infrastructure development. We also hope to get more students involved by having a water education event during Welcome Week. This summer, I'd like to apply for some grants so we have seed funding to work with for advertising and educational events. If we get seed funding, we may be able to market Take Less, Give More Water Initiative merchandise to support development in a water insecure community.

And now, for the largest recent change in my life: my internship at the International Potato Center in Lima, Peru. My first and most difficult goal is to become proficient in Peruvian Spanish. this looks to be very difficult, but I need to remain patient with myself. If I try my best and study in the evenings, this is all I can do. !Asi se puede! Secondly I need to learn all I can about genebank preservation, seed saving, and potato cultivation for my antisipated horticultural research at Iowa State in Peruvian potato cultivation for the upcoming year.

Costa Rica was a good preparation for this trip. Speaking with Costa Ricans gave me a bit of confidence in speaking Spanish with native speakers, even if Peruvian Spanish seems very different. The trip gave me impression that is thus far accurate of how Latin America looks and feels.

From here forward, my adventure in Peru...

Preparations for IAAS USA National Summit

Only two days after arriving back for Saint Louis from the Clinton Global Initiative University at Washington University, I am waiting in the Des Moines airport to go to North Carolina for the IAAS USA National Summit. For the first time, my flights have been delayed due to bad weather. This development is not surprising considering the rainy weather. I hope the rest of the team doesn't have too many problems flying out tomorrow. I am particularly in love with the rain today. It reminds me of the day on the ISU Horticulture Farm this summer when it began to pour. Everyone rushed in from the fields in the downpour. As we watched, we were quiet in celebration among the waves of rain. I truly felt I was a part of the farm when I realized what joy the rain brought me.

Plans are big for North Carolina! At the conference, my goal is to unite IAAS United States socially and electronically. I am planning to run for National Director so I can help unify IAAS USA throughout the year. Communication and unification will bring us strength, and it is time for IAAS United States to be a major IAAS chapter internationally, especially as the World Conference of 2014 in the United States approaches. The only way we can do this is to improve our connection and communication internally. With or without the National Director position, I’d like to set up Facebook and Twitter pages for our group. If I am National Director, I would like to be on the list serve for every IAAS chapter in the United States. This way, we can provide status updates on Facebook and Twitter about what each IAAS chapter is doing each week and the developments for World Conference (WOCO) 2014.

In addition to improving internal communication, I would like to improve the public face of IAAS USA. Creating a webpage for the United States with subpages for each chapter will help us in several ways. First, we will be able to garner sponsors with a professional website that informs investors about our activities and accreditations, such as our partnership with the FAO and status as a non-profit organization. Secondly, the website will provide information for international IAAS members who wish to travel to an IAAS USA chapter for a conference or exchange program (EXPRO). This fall, IAAS ISU will have the first IAAS Expro with IAAS Hohenheim. The hosted student will learn how to run a community sustained agriculture organic horticulture farm at Table Top Farm, located about 20 minutes outside Iowa State University. Additionally, he will have the opportunity to participate in IAAS ISU by helping to plan World Conference 2014 in the United States.

My final goal for the conference is to get all IAAS USA chapters involved in planning WOCO 2014. Our chapter would like to offer placement as a part of the Organizing Committee for IAAS USA members who secure sponsors for WOCO 2014. Input from every chapter is necessary for planning the best WOCO possible.

Before the conference, I will spend one evening with my best friend and her roommate at Duke University in Durham, NC. Unbelievably, the only college campuses I’ve seen are Iowa State University, Washington University, CATIE in Costa Rica, and the campus in Uppsala, Sweden.  I expect Duke to be beautiful; besides, I cannot wait to see my best friend where she currently spends all her time. She’s going to have to be patient with all the photos I’ll want to take!

It is so strange to me to travel this much. I am beginning to get very used to airports when only four months ago I had never set foot in one. Things can change quickly… I still have a rush of adrenaline from traveling today. It could be my lack of sleep and my strong cup of Costa Rican coffee.

Here I sign off until North Carolina!

Take Less, Give More

Last Thursday night, I had a dream my assignment for the summer was to live in poverty in Latin America. In my dream, I lived in a black plastic garbage can on the underside of a garbage truck. I had dark hair, and I remember feeling unhappy about my living situation. I woke up very guilty for my discontent feelings for living in poverty. The next day, Tiffany Westrom and I drove to the Clinton Global Initiative University in Saint Louis, and I do not believe the timing of my dream was a coincidence. I keep analyzing why I was inherently unhappy about living in poverty. A conclusion is yet to be arrived at, but I know this is part of what drives my passions. This is why I set out to Saint Louis for the Clinton Global Initiative University (CGIU) that day and why the projects that motivate me most are those that are accomplishing tangible change.

At the conference, we generated many ideas by listening to professional and famous speakers and speaking to our peers, people just as motivated as us to create positive change in the world. We also had many ideas about how to manage our own event. This is the beauty of an event that is not run perfectly in the eyes of a participant.

From the speakers and our peers, we gained three big ideas from the conference for the Take Less, Give More Water Initiative. First, we would like to have Take Less, Give More be the auspice for all change projects in the Department of Residence. This could mean, the Take Less, Give More Energy Initiative, Take Less, Give More Gender Equality Initiative, etcetera. If a student can dream an initiative and get behind we would like Take Less, Give More be the platform that supports that student in their initiative.

Secondly, we would like to set up a pen pal and Skype relationship with the community we are raising funds for water infrastructure improvements. A pen pal relationship between ISU residents and members of a community abroad has several purposes. First, a relationship with people from the community would allow us to serve the needs of the community in the most effective way possible. Talking to people and helping them with the tools they request is the best way to support development. Secondly, a pen pal relationship has the potential to empower women of both communities. Skills in writing, informational exchange, interpersonal communication, and consistency are key to developing and maintaining a meaningful pen pal relationship. We hope to encourage consistently socially responsible citizens who are able to communicate their values and accomplish projects thanks to their communication abilities. The next step is to communicate with charity:water about where our funds water infrastructure will be placed so we can establish a relationship.

Third, we would like to create a book about the residents of Oak-Elm Hall who were and are agents of positive change at any stage in their lives. Tiffany and I plan to begin in Oak-Elm Hall with our book, Take Less, Give More: the legacy of Oak-Elm Residence Hall Women at Iowa State University, because we are both Community Advisers in this residence hall. The project has the potential to expand if students from other residence halls are interested in compiling a book about their residence hall. The purpose of compiling a book is twofold. The first goal of the book is to honor the legacy of past Oak-Elm residents by inspiring current residents to continue these projects or create their own. Secondly, we plan to sell copies of the book to raise funds for projects within Take Less, Give More. The research for the book may prove difficult, but the rewards are certainly in sight!

After the panel on engaging women in global water solutions, I was excited to speak with a youth leader from SustainUS, a youth run group that works to represent students at United Nations conference such as Rio +20. During the panel, she told us about a new initiative of SustainUS to form a United States government youth lead sustainability lobby. After the panel, I told her I would be thrilled to contribute to this project. After telling her I was a member of IAAS, a light bulb went off. She asked me, “Do you know a Sam…” I replied, “Sam Bird?” She replied affirmatively and told me she was in Rio Dijnero at Rio +20 with Sam Bird. She told me, “You guys are smart.” Instantly, I had more credibility with her and to offer to the youth sustainability lobby. This is one of the moments where I think to myself, “Go IAAS!” I am looking forward to being in contact with her in the future. Working in agricultural and environmental public policy looks to be incredibly rewarding.

With respect to event management, we decided we would offer coffee and light snacks during the networking portion at the beginning of the event. At CGIU, they offered a buffet style dinner. The food was delicious and incredibly gourmet, but I always felt awkward eating while standing and conversing with people I had just met. At a conference I would plan, I would have had a formal dinner after the opening speaker. At the formal welcome dinner, I would group people by interest in the seating arrangement. I am taking notes for World Conference 2014 plans!

Our favorite part of the conference was the Commitment Exchange Expo. We were able to explain the Take Less, Give More Water Imitative to our peers and hear about their commitments. It was incredibly useful and empowering to learn of their passions and brainstorm methods of moving forward with our commitments.

The day was beautiful and we got off to a timely start. The beauty of the Iowa countryside is never wasted on me. We were delighted to see the landscape to change to green, and when we reached the city, we instantly felt like small Iowa girls in the big city. When we reached the Saint Louis metro area, we turned the radio to what would become our favorite station for the weekend. Saint Louis WILD played Rihanna’s “Throw It Up” each and every time we got in the car; Tiffany and I could not help but associate this song with Saint Louis. When we reached the Washington University Campus, we were surprised to find fraternities right next to the green grass of central campus. The brick architecture recalled what we imagine the east coast to look like, although neither one of us has been there before. Even when were not in our ISU marked car, everyone seemed to know we were not from Missouri. We were impressed at how friendly everyone was. On the last night of the conference, we found a napkin under the windshield wiper of our car. Unbeknownst to us, it was a note from a friendly Oklahoma State Student.

If you would like to donate to Take Less, Give More, visit www.charitywater.org/takelessgivemore. You may also visit our Facebook page at www.facebook.com/takelessgivemore. Thank you for your interest and support!

Quiet day in La Fortuna

Today, most of the group has food poisoning, so we've been at the clinic in La Fortuna for the entire day. Pobresitos. I am feeling a little under the weather, and I'm very glad I'm not sick to my stomach. It is 2:30 in the afternoon and we are finally beginning the four hour, bumpy ride to Jaco Beach. The heat is humid and sweltering. It's difficult to believe it snowed in Iowa yesterday. The photo above is from the Catholic church in La Fortuna. It seems appropriate given the circumstances of the day.

On our second day, we visited a heart of palm plantation, a sugar cane cooperative, and the tropical agriculture graduate school CATIE. The heart of palm plantation showed a demonstration of how heart of palm is harvested. With a mechitae, a small palm tree is cut down at the base. Then subsequent layers of tough stem were removed to reveal the sweet and tender heart of palm. We all passed around a heart of palm core and each took a bite off the end. We also got to sample palm fruits. They were bright orange, and peeling them made out hands turn orange. Unexpectedly, the fruits were salty. In Spanish, the farmer instructed to to bite open the pit. The inside was sweet and tasted of coconut. He told me most Latin Americans don't enjoy palm fruits, but he loves to eat it in the evenings with coffee.

After driving two hours north, we reached a sugar cane cooperative (finca de Cana, please excuse the spelling until I reach a computer). The farm managers told us about sugar can cooperative. It was hot and dry here. The sugar cane refinery looked incredibly dirty from the outside. Men were in the fields harvesting the sugar cane into large stacks and long, tractor pulled carts. Watching them from a distance was surreal. I was speaking with the farm manager in Spanish, and as we headed to the next farm site of the sugar plantation, Dr. Burras asked if I could ride with the farm managers in their truck. What an opportunity! I got to speak with them about the latest volleyball match, a popular thing here in Latin America, and tell them about my studies. The next field site was for research on different cultivars of Cana. I took notes about the cultivation an cooperative sugar production which will be typed up at a later date.

The last stop for the day was the graduate school of tropical sustainable agriculture, CATIE. CATIE was founded in 1942 as part of crop research for WWII by the United States, and has been renowned around the world as an excellent place to earn a masters degree in agriculture. They have the largest agricultural library in Latin America and has some or the largest collections of tropical crops. We observed annitio dye, guava, coffee, and cocao. Industry uses annitio dye for coloring food. We got creative and put the dye on our lips and cheeks.



The best crop we've tasted however, is cocao. I had never seen it before, and Dr. Vialobos cut open a cocao fruit. Inside the coco beans were enveloped in white, membranous, sweet material. It was the best thing I've seen since naranjilla. We bit open the coco bean and were shocked to discover is was purple!

After sampling the cocao, I struck up a Spanish conversation with a Brazilian graduate student, Kaue Sousa, which lasted for hours. We talked about his project in agroforestry, the institution on CATIE, and beginning a life in Costa Rica. Dr. Burras invited the students to share dinner with us, so we carried on a long conversation on the bus. He told me about settling in Costa Rica with his wife and how I should take an internship at CATIE. I can't say the idea isn't tempting! Their school of sustainable agriculture is wonderful, and now I have several friends there. Kaue even went so far as to email me the information about interning there.

At dinner, I spoke with Kaue's wife, Suelen, who spoke Portuguese and some Spanish. She told me about her goals for this year before she begins graduate school: to finish her undergraduate degree, begin teaching Portuguese, and learn English. I could tell from the way she told me about her goals, the transition to life in Costa Rica could be difficult at times. I can empathize in difficult transitions. She also told me about learning languages in Brazil, which sounded not unlike the mentality of the United States. Since Brazil is an economic leader of South America, most do not find it nessicary to learn a second language. Many in Latin America want to learn to speak Portuguese, and she hopes to find work teaching. Learning this about Brazil made me feel less guilty about the lack of language knowledge Americans acquire. I would still like this to change about the Unites States, but perhaps this is a characteristic of large, economically influential nations.

At the end of our visit, Suelen asked for a photo and added me on Facebook. I am so delighted to have these new friends!

Writing on the bus ride is starting to make me feel queazy, so I'm going to elect to watch the scenery pass us by.

Pura Vida

I must admit, yesterday as I was going to sleep, I had my reservations about this trip. I was worried when no one wanted to speak in Spanish to me when we arrived in San Jose. However, today we ascended the mountains around the city, to breathtaking views and conversation. As I write, we are hurdling down the mountainside back to San Jose. When the road hairpins, which is often, the bus nearly stops, and on the steepest climbs the bus rolls backward a bit as our driver manually downshifts. The danger of driving on the mountain is real; anyways, with any other driver it would be dangerous. Julio is wonderfully skilled. He navigates the mountains, pedestrians, motorbikes, and loose animals calmly. This morning and this evening as we drive down the mountain, the fog is so thick the center line in the road is barely visible. Gracias a dios para Julio.

Our first stop today was at the coffee cooperative in Santa Maria de Dota. There are many steps to processing the raw coffee berry, and many variations on this theme. Our tour guide was so knowledgeable and gave a very informative tour. I took extensive notes, so this will turn into a more detailed post about smallholder coffee production.

The most incredible part of the day was at the avocado and fruit finca. The farmer high in the mountains farms two hectares of steep mountainside. He spoke Spanish with a few words of English, and at first dr. Vialobos translated for the group. I was able to ask questions in Spanish about the cost of applying gibberellic acid to the trees. This simulates the passage of the dormant season, there is no cold season cool enough here, and prompts the plant to flower. He told me the hormone is not expensive, especially compared to the pollen he has to import from California to pollinate certain varieties of apple. He offered us samples of avocado, plum, naranjilla,and apple. After this, he invited us to explore the farm. When the group broke up, out of necessity I ended up translating for others and asking questions. Thanks to his patience, gestures, and my intermediate vocabulary, we were able to learn about his bio-reactor to make natural repellent and fertilizer. The repellent is made from the anaerobic fermentation of garlic, onions, and eucalyptus. After two months, he can spray this on his trees. He can reduce this time by 50% if he adds yeast to the mixture. This solution is a natural mode of insecticide, fungicide, and fertilizer.

He and I walked further up the mountainside, and he approached a tree with yellow, oval fruits. He picked one and gave it to me. I had to ask how to eat it, and he told me to crack it open. A crisp crack revealed seeds surrounded in clear membranous sacs nestled inside cottony flesh. He told me to swallow the seeds, not chew. It was sweeter and more delicious than any candy I've ever tasted.

After this fruit, we walked further up the sleep and rocky mountain path. He showed me the black color of the soil beneath the fallen leaves, appearing much like rich Iowa soil. We walked further and conversed on how he acquired his farm (the house from his parents, the land from this grandparents), how he farms the land (with his four children, still students, and wife), and I told him what I am studying at the university.


At the end of the trip, he asked me to write to him if we discovered ideas at other organic farms. He wrote down his address for me; I hope to send him a letter and an American flag pin. To speak with him in Spanish was fulfilling and unbelievably wonderful. I don't have adequate words to describe the calm and interest I experienced in our conversation, the sun warmed mountain air, and the underlining cool, fresh breeze.

There is simply the experience.

The mountainside of Oleman's farm.

Des Moines to Dallas

We are waiting in the Dallas Fort Worth airport for our flight to San Jose. Again during this trip I will be posting from my iPod. Therefore, please forgive spelling and grammar. All posts will be edited upon returning.

I felt the same rush and my same uncontrollable child's smile captures my face. The sensation of running, running, running down the runway, the sun so bright it's almost blinding, and wondering when we will leave the ground is not unlike a feeling I've known in cross country running. Although the grass of the course was green, the blinding setting sun swathed my vision in amber and gold. Running up the rise into the sun, I had a info those vivid runner's thoughts: " I'm flying." In the morning's white sunlight, I remembered this Iowa autumn day.

The sunlight through the window is warm, and I'm beginning to remember the feeling of too much warmth. Sitting on the runway for several minutes, I told myself to remember everything about the Iowa landscape: the grey brown trees, the rolling terrain, a small flock of black birds, the dark soil, the streaks of snow. Dr. Burras' words meander into my mind. " you see what you know. You see what you value." Now that we are in the air, I see rivers sculpted into crescents, roads that are not quite grids, but indicate their desires to be. I see reflective dark water, slightly green, slightly blue. In most places, the soil is black and naked, and crests of snow line the fields. I see nature; I see agriculture.

We are boarding for our final destination!!

Bienvenidos a Costa Rica

A dear friend described the feeling of anticipation of a new adventure (and I hope he will not mind seeing his quote here): "I am in a very odd mood today, completely clueless about what tomorrow will bring. I am really looking forward to [it] but there is also a kind of disbelief and suspense... We will see..." I can't summarize how I feel more accurately. There is the feeling when parents linger to say goodbye. I feel guilty for leaving and causing them worry, guilt for not taking them with me, and a touch of eagerness brushing in my chest. Apart from this there is the absolute disbelief and suspense!

Tomorrow we depart for Costa Rica, and I wonder at how this experience will differ from my experience at the IAAS conference in Sweden. Traveling with a larger group and for touring several farms each day will be different from my experience in Sweden. 24 of my classmates from the tropical soils and crop production class will travel together, and these will be 24 new, ISU faces. Despite traveling with 24 fellows, I hope the trip will expose me to Costa Rican culture and the Spanish language. My largest worry for the trip is to be more of a tourist and less of a student. Therefore, I would like to set several goals for myself:

1) speak only in Spanish whenever native-speakers are present
2) do not project my preconceptions/assumptions onto the people I meet
3) try new experiences and take the road less traveled whenever possible
4) be completely engaged, mentally and physically, in learning about the culture and environment
5) reflect regularly

Besides the group, there is a drastically different climate to consider! Never have I visited a climate warm or rich in biodiversity as Costa Rica. Tomorrow's high in San Jose is 73 F, or 23 C. I don't know if I even remember what this feels like.

Below is my traditional suitcase photo. It is considerably lighter than my baggage for Sweden; no squashing required! Again, I've packed my homemade American flag pins to give away if appropriate. As you can see in the photo, I am excited to put my Spanish skills, and Spanish dictionary, to use. I made a list of agricultural vocabulary words to study on the plane and refer to throughout the trip.

Writing the name Costa Rica is even unbelievable. It doesn't seem like a place I could actually travel to. I can't imagine what emotions I will feel when I depart for Peru for two months...

Thanks to Colin Weaver for sharing this. 

Costa Rica and Solidarismo

My next trip will be to Costa Rica during spring break for a Agronomy class on Costa Rican soils and crop production. When enrolling in the course, I only thought of the agricultural discoveries to behold. However, as my soils professor  the well respected Dr. Burras, described landing in San Jose, the natural landscapes around the farms we will visit and roads we will traveling, I realized we will also explore an ecosystem unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I could hardly contain my excitement as Dr. Burras was providing the detailed of our journey. I will mark the course of our journey on a more detailed map once I speak with Dr. Burras again.

Today begins my first research on Costa Rica for my presentation in my conversational Spanish class. Our class assignment is to describe the job climate in your profession of choice in a Spanish-speaking country. I will speak about farming in Costa Rica. The information I have gathered is a bit about the agricultural commodities and climate of Costa Rica.

With four meters of yearly average rainfall and balmy temperatures, Costa Rica has the idea climate for crop production. Thanks to a cool coastal breeze,  the midland temperatures of San Jose waiver around a balmy 22 degrees Celsius year round (72 degrees Fahrenheit). Humidity in this region is low, so temperatures are very comfortable for the inhabitants and tourists. In the highlands, moderate temperatures reach 13 degrees Celsius during the day, with much cooler temperatures at night. The lowlands are hot and humid, reaching a warm 26 degrees Celsius (79 degrees Fahrenheit). The rainy season is the equivalent of winter for Costa Ricans and lasts from May to November. The dry-season is referred to as "el verano" or "summer" and occupies the remaining months. Vast differences in climate in relation to altitude allow the large range of biodiversity in Costa Rica.

Banana is the highest value crop grown in Costa Rica, almost doubling the profits from coffee exports in recent years. Sales of banana are mostly handled by multinational corporations, even if the crops are produced by small farmers. Banana workers benefit from the highest salaries in the agricultural sector, almost $15/day, $5 above the national minimum wage, and some of the best occupational benefits. Dole is largest producer of bananas for the US and Japan, and many of these bananas are grown in Costa Rica.

Most banana workers belong to Solidarismo, and Solidarismo is where things get controversial  This is a worker's organization with collective bargaining rights started by banana plantation owners in the 1980s. Employees invest part of their wages in schools, an onsite doctor, and busing to the plantations. In return, the employees investment is matched by the company. If one likens Solidarismo to a labor union, this relationship sounds too good to be true, and indeed there is one catch. The employees aren't allowed to strike. However, from internet forums I have been reading here, it seems that if strikes need to be organized, this is not done through Solidarismo. One of the readers on the web page listed above posted a excellent reminder to me for any traveler.

"Keep analyzing our culture from 5,000 miles away [instead] of being here a couple of months or years. We live here every day and we know what is good for us and what is not." -alberguer

We discuss avoiding assumptions about other cultures in my Global Resource Systems classes frequently, but it is another skill entirely to learn when I am forming assumptions subconsciously. From the information I can find on the internet, I cannot tell if the Costa Rican people are overall satisfied or dissatisfied with the Solidarismo system. It sounds like a topic the Costa Rican people may be divided upon, so I will attempt to be very polite when making inquiries  This said, one of my goals while abroad will be to ask the Costa Rican people about Solidarismo.

Welcome to the Filadelfia Plantation. Here we work as 210 workers in peace and harmony. Thanks to Solidarismo...

Coffee has also been a staple crop in Costa Rica since the 18th Century, so naturally, we will be touring a coffee plantation. In the 1820s, the government distributed free coffee plants and offered tax exemptions to coffee growers. This government promotion allowed small coffee growers to flourish alongside large producers. Costa Rican coffee is known for its high yield and high quality. Indeed, my graduate course instructors for my Costa Rican soils class instructed me to pack lightly in order to bring back as much coffee as possible. Challenge accepted. 

Sugar is also an important crop, but is usually consumed locally. Pineapple is grown all around the country and is a popular export. Our soils class plans to visit a pineapple plantation during our visit. I have yet to read much about dairy production in Costa Rica, but I would like to devote a more detailed blog post about my pre-departure research for the dairy farms. I hear Costa Rican ice cream is absolutely wonderful.

Next Friday, I plan to make a Costa Rican dish for our first IAAS potluck of the semester. I will be sure to provide a detailed account of what I learn by cooking my first Costa Rican dish.


Sources cited:

http://www.nationsencyclopedia.com/economies/Americas/Costa-Rica-AGRICULTURE.html

http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/139528/Costa-Rica/40883/Agriculture-forestry-and-fishing

http://www.costarica.net/features/culture.htm

http://www.triplepundit.com/2011/06/source-19-banana/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/makefruitfair/5223462390/sizes/l/in/photostream/es cited:

Dairy Farm at Lovsta, Uppsala

The Lovsta dairy farm is a livestock research center ten kilometers outside central Uppsala. The center focuses on LEARN- Livestock Extension And Research Network- to exchange information from the research center and the farmers of Sweden. Strikingly, both the presenters, Ola Schultgberg and Torkel Ekman, studied as veterinarians before becoming diary managers.

We began the lecture with a brief history of dairy farming in Sweden. In 1960, there were 220,000 farmers, 90% of whom raised diary cows. Every decade since 1960, the number of diary farmers in Sweden has decreased by half. Today, only 4,900 (10%), of Swedish farmers raise dairy cows. Swedish milk production has been recorded over the last 100 years thanks to 85% of Swedish dairy farmers participating in the recording program. This database shows us milk and dairy production has not dropped significantly even as the number of dairy farmers has decreased. The size of dairy operations is growing. However, most herds have less than 50 cows.

Today, 45% of Swedish milk is used for drinking milk and yogurt. One third of Swedish milk is made into cheese. Oddly enough, I did not consume much cheese while in Sweden. I did enjoy the most delicious Swedish milk and yogurt. It was naturally sweet and creamy; it was the most wonderful milk I have ever tasted. I enjoyed the Swedish food and drink a great deal, so I was astonished this morning when I decided to step on my family's scale. I lost six pounds while in Sweden. Despite an obsession with running in high school which culminated in running a marathon the summer after my graduation, I have not weighed this little since the seventh grade. I am convinced this is due to all the fresh food we were served and that we snacked lightly between each meal. I sense a new diet craze hitting the United States: the Swedish way. 

10% of the milk in Sweden is organic. Organic cows produce 1000 kilo less per cow than the conventional cow (this is a comparison of 8000 kilo to 9000 kilo). The farm managers of Lovsta said they did not see a great difference between the health of organic milk and that of conventional milk. The health of milk is measured by cell count; the higher the milk cell count, the lower the health of the milk. Norway has the best milk health on average, next Finland, then Sweden. The farm managers attributed Norwegian milk quality to large government subsidies. For example, a Norwegian farmer has monetary intensive from his government to keep many different types of cows. Climate is also a factor in milk health. In Iceland, cool temperatures and large quantities of rain cause hay to mold, which results in worse milk health. The breed of cow also influences the product quality. Holsteins have the worst milk health in Sweden because they were bread for production in quantity. Not surprisingly, the Swedish Red and White produces the highest quality milk.

As in all other livestock production in Sweden, antibiotics are prescribed, not given to the animals as a preventative measure. Norway also practices this method, and not surprisingly, Norway and Sweden have some of the lowest rates of antibiotic resistance. Studies in the Netherlands and Denmark have shown lower rates of antibiotic use result in higher human health. 

After our visit, I still have questions. One of my most burning questions is the difference between female and male farmers in Sweden. In other nations, there is distinct difference between the farming styles of the sexes. Sweden is incredibly progressive in gender equality, and I am interested to see how this manifests itself in agriculture. For mundane example, most of the rest rooms are unisex. We were also told it would not be uncommon for a Swedish woman to hit on a man at a club or bar. Since I am so shy when it comes to introducing myself to others, this would be difficult for me!

I found the presentation very interesting. Thank you, Lovsta! If you have further questions, we can do more research and/or contact those I met from IAAS Sweden and Lovsta to learn more.

Swedish Livestock Production

There was very limited time to write while I was in Sweden, so I set aside a bit of reflection time on the evening we arrived at our accommodation in Gimo to write about the agricultural systems we toured during the day. I was luckyto have a desk to write at facing the forest and a cluster classic red Swedish houses. The evening windows were lit by Advent candles, which could be found in nearly every window of homes and shops around Sweden.

Advent Candles

December 29th, 2012
The Swedes make me hopeful. I want to emulate their ideas in the United States. However, I also believe the practices have room for improvement.

The Swedes are extremely proud of their happy pigs. The tails of Swedish pigs are not cut, so to prevent pigs from biting each other's tails, pigs are given a greater amount of space in which to live. Pigs are also required to have straw bedding at indoor facilities. I am under the impression all facilities are indoor due to the harsh Swedish winters. When viewing the operation at Esplunda, the needs of the pigs certainly seemed to be satisfied based on simple observation from an unskilled eye. However, I cannot claim a professional opinion; I classify myself as a plant scientist. The pigs did not fight and each had ample room to move about and lie down. The amount of straw on the stall floors did not impress me. If I was a pig, I would have appreciated a bit more straw to lay on. I'd be a picky pig. Pig operations are also limited to a few hundred pigs (I cannot recall the exact number), which is significantly smaller than in the United States.

Happy Swedish Pigs at Esplunda Farm

I was also impressed by the way the beef calves were kept at the Esplunda beef farm. The calves are kept in a barn that has one side open to the outdoors. Bales of hay are pilled across the open side of the barn to keep wind and snow out and to allow fresh air and light in. There is also a great amount of hay in the stalls, and the calves are not crowded.  I was less impressed with the standards for adult cattle, although I am aware the standards are much better than anywhere else in the world. I am always looking for areas of improvement. For the benefit of the cattle, the males are not castrated. All cattle must be kept in open air barns with ample room to lie down for rest. The conditions of the barn were still more dirty than a pasture. I would not want to walk down where the cattle lived even wearing heavy boots due to the film of manure. However, I'm inclined to believe this film of manure is much better than operations elsewhere in the world. I was sad to learn that beef cattle were not required to be release into pasturing during the summer months.

Swedish Calves at Esplunda Farm

In all animal productions, antibiotics are used as prescription medications, not as preventative measures. As a result, Swedish livestock have some of the lowest rates of bacterial antibiotic resistance in the world. To accomplish this, each farm employs a veterinarian to diagnose and treat sick animals.

Slaughter is also progressive. Anesthesia is required in all slaughter and the animals cannot be transported for more than eight hours before slaughter. I was astonished to learn these were not already standardized regulations around the world.

We visited the dairy research farm Lovsta, and for those who are interested in dairy, all we learned there deserves a separate blog post. I will be sure to include a summary of the notes I took there. You may view a pdf in English about the farm here. You may also view the website in Swedish at http://www.slu.se/lovsta.

Despite all the wonderful programs the Swedes have for their animals, I always see room for improvement. These farms need to be polyphase. This would create a closed, natural system that could promote a more natural habitat for animals, plants, and people. This habitat would be cleaner, healthier, more eco-friendly. Most of all, it would be a more fulfilling and wholesome way of life. I want to ask the cattle farmer if he uses the manure as fertilizer for his fields. How could the environments of crops, feed, and animals be combined but still maintain efficiency? This is the problem I want to address for the improvement of agriculture around the world. The answer will be different in each climate and ecosystem, but I believe the results will be worth the effort of answering this question. This is already being accomplished on a small scale with hydroponics. It is time to expand this systems approach to terrestrial agriculture.

Thank you for reading! The post on dairy will follow, and I plan to comment with my thoughts on meat production in general. The comment function of the blog has been activated, so please feel free to start a conversation or provide feedback. I apologize: I was unaware that this function needed to be activated.