On The Apex

The Workshop

The workshop consisted of eight participants, and three facilitators, who all had varied, diverse and interesting backgrounds. Many of the participants like my unknowing self had struggled or were suffering from various outcomes in their lives, such as trust and expectation, some from vile intrusive encounters, others from disconnection from loved ones, along with soul searcher. But there was one individual who I felt, was above us all, laughing at us in the most genuine and wonderful way possible. You couldn't help but smile at this person who was exploring this workshop for his own curiosity. Some of these folks irritated me cause they couldn't stop talking, others, because they seemed a know it all, but, all were genuinely in pain and trying to find some clarity to make sense of their present circumstance, and unknowingly I as well were apart of this.  

I had no idea what to expect of this retreat. I was under the impression pause, meant meditation, and being in India I romanced, what better place for a meditation retreat. However this workshop ended up being a sort of introspective journey about yourself and your surroundings, not some guided meditation. The workshop was filled with various activities, and I will describe a few that had a lasting effect on me. The first activity started of with us walking about and making eye contact. This eventually lead to an intense exercise of meeting someone randomly and staring into their eyes for a minute. This was one of the most bizarre and uncomfortable experiences in recent memory. I obviously wasn’t in danger, but a strange vulnerability arises, and eventually you adjust and start to take in information of the individual you are with. At first it felt like, “hey there are some eyes”, and “they have some colors”, then all of a sudden, “I don’t want to look at you, because this is weird”. Forcing myself, I kept looking, and before I knew it, its as if I had information about this person, that was relatable or at least some what understandable, and its as if we had, had a conversation on getting to know each other, and agreed life is hard, and confusing. I also felt we acknowledge each other of the information we each received. Then once the minute was done we were asked to find another individual, and do the same. Better prepared now, I get a shot of information from my new partner almost immediately. I saw pain, and a need for healing and relief, as well as a caring and nurturing person who was well intended. Something inside me told me to tell this person that it will be ok, and I reached to give a hi five for some reason. Then we switched partners again and I found myself staring into the eyes of a facilitator, and was transmitted a different set of info. I saw a gentle individual with well intention to help, and as well to be helped. As the activity ended, I felt a deep humbling feeling, that I didn’t have that good an idea of assessing my fellow humans, and my observations of people, were not necessarily wrong, but they were not exactly correct or as exact as I would claim to myself.

The second lasting impression of this workshop was an activity where I sat with an individual and we had a brief discussion, on getting to know each other, and observations we made of each other. This person looked at me and said, “ you seem a very interesting person with your ideas and perspective, but I see a sadness in your eyes, and I am very curious and eager to get to know you.” The sadness part totally caught me off guard. How? I’m not attempting to project that at all. What type of mularky is this, I said to myself. Weeks later this was still in my mind, and I looked at myself in the mirror, and looked at my eyes. They looked tired, and with some concern and longing. The strange thing is, I don’t know what it is, but I start to recall many people in my life saying I look negative, or unenthusiastic, and display actions of pessimism. For whatever reason it happens, I don’t know, but its maybe the first time I can recall that I can acknowledge this. Whether it is justified or not, I have no idea, but this subtle activity, had a profound effect of curiosity within me.

The last of the activities that stood out was this type of imaginary gathering we were required to participate in. One of the facilitators were attempting to act as creature from another planet that invited us to the gathering. I was full-blown cynic now. We were asked to draw masks of animals we gravitated to, and join the gathering with our masks. While I was drawing I felt quite calm and in a state of flow. I enjoyed drawing a hybrid of a wolf and elephant. I was quite proud of it, but that’s as far as I cared for this activity. It was all-downhill from there, and I could control my arrogant cynical feelings. We were asked to do a procession to a class room space, then do some sort of dance where we were welcomed by a facilitator with a mask who asked us to move around and find a seat. I was cringing, and not wanting to be apart of this. I found it difficult to invest into this whole activity and continued to struggle with my frustrated feelings. As everyone found their seat, the facilitator asked all to introduce themselves and we proceeded to have a discussion about the earth, and each other’s characters, and the messages our chosen animals wanted humans to understand about, since our planet is in times of great peril. Fair enough I get the activity, but I could not care for it, I felt I knew what was happening in the planet and this was quite unnecessary for me. Some people went out of their way to be there spirit creature, and others played the game, and then there was me who played the game with utter reluctance. At the end we had the choice of unmasking and going into the world with our new found empathy and knowledge to transmit this message to other humans, or keep the mask on and remain the creature and be bitter at humans. I get it, I said to myself, but why does it have to be this weird and lame. From the beginning to the end of this activity, I had various feelings that were not of virtue. I even felt like I was part of some strange delusional cult, doing whacky things, and that made me feel embarrassed, and was longing for it to end. My only resolve was a reminder to go through this and remove the expectation I had so blatantly brought upon this activity, that it was lame.  

When the activity finally ended, we all had an important discussion on the activity and what we got out of it. I used as much tact as I had, and spoke some of my feelings of what had gone down. Mainly that I felt this activity didn’t apply to me, but I realized the point. (I’m paraphrasing). To my surprise there was this acknowledgment by the facilitators, as if it was expected, and how open they were to the various critiques, and feedback, humbled me. I left feeling relieved, and a bit embarrassed and ashamed, but not with the vitriol I had for the activity, at more myself.

The Unbearable Lightness Of Being (Thanks Mr. Kundera)

After the workshop was done, Atullya and myself had time to reflect on it all at the Banglore Airport, and a deep discussion of lessons learned about ourselves emerged, and mostly centred around the last activity I discussed. We both agreed, that even though we felt uncomfortable and silly with the activity, the facilitators might have felt very uncomfortable trying to convince us of the value of the activity by acting out in character. We reflected on the facial expressions of the facilitators, and how much resolve, care and seriousness they would have invested to try and implement this successfully. It was a lighthearted activity meant to bring about awareness of our surroundings, compassion for all life, and to appreciate the splendour and magnificence of the natural world. It still felt a little lame but my delusional ideas of a cult were far from the truth.

This workshop brought out the cynic, and a contemptuous air in me. I felt I was above all of this, and was cringing at certain activities. I also experienced being vulnerable in the lightest of ways, by just staring into the eyes of another person. But at the end of it all, I realized how disappointing my behaviour was, and in a strange way I was quite happy and immensely relieved while acknowledging all this at the airport.

I felt I peeled off a layer that I didn't realize I had. A layer that merged so stealthily and lightly within me that it was not present in my awareness, and when I came to realize it, the lightness of it became unbearable. Unbearable for about a minute, but in that minute, I felt ashamed, embarrassed and cringed at the behavior and the self-righteous air of arrogance that I was participating in. But soon after a smile emerged, one of relief, acceptance, contentment, and comedic relief. The relief, as welcoming as it was, made me wonder how many more of these covert layers were within me, and how unbearably light (or how heavy) they may be when discovered?

After getting out of the bazaar we made it to a plaza (town square), that was close to a big church. Not many people around, yet very busy with motor vehicles. I look around and see some metal sculptures that were not very exciting. Besides them were more sketchy individuals. Walking close the church, we realize we are in a pretty poor area. There are homeless people around, some folks barefoot, and some looking filthy, and tormented. One guy pulled out crack pipe right in front of me, and preceded to escape the nightmare that was his waking life. It was a culture shock, and one I didn’t see coming. All through these parts I was warned to not take pictures, for fear of being followed and mugged for my phone. My skin color was my strength, and I didn’t have much talking to do because of Valeria. The picture would have maybe described much more, but its maybe better I didn’t exploit an individual who was so far gone.

Shortly after witnessing this, we arrived at Salon Malaga, and the past was forgotten for a much more bearable and exciting darkness. I would however be confronted with a much more darker side to the city before I left.

My last day in Medellin was my most polarizing.  I started my day very early heading to the Medellin bus terminal, and Valeria and I stored our luggage at the terminal so we could walk around the city freely. I heard of a huge farmers market name Plaza Minorista that serviced most restaurants and hotels at 4 am when the Plaza opened. This ensures the best and most fresh produce is available for purchase. We took the metro from the bus terminal and yet again ended up at estacion San Antonio. This time we walked to a completely different side of the station and followed the directions of a transit worker at the station. The first street we approached, looked like another bazaar of sorts. There were various vendors selling things under the over pass of the metro station. The difference being, these vendors had all the products neatly organized on the floor at the bottom of the overpass, on top of a piece of tarp or some cloth. The closer I walked towards it, the stranger this market looked. All the products being sold were random things, like rusted nuts and bolts, broken hammers, screwdrivers, batteries, cell phone cases, hats, old cellphones, picture frames, fruit, and clothes. There was many more different things there, than what I’m capable of describing. I was so baffled by what was being sold that I didn’t realize who was selling these items. When I finally looked around to see who was selling these things, I was immediately surprised, and in the same breadth in complete acceptance. “Oh! This makes sense.” The vendors were all homeless people. They somehow foraged, stole, and stored these things in the hopes of selling them. Close to this homeless bazaar were motorcycle repair shops, cell phone accessory shops, and hardware stores. It was as if I was in a strange eco system of sorts, where the homeless folk were at the bottom, and they supported all the shops around, with some, of the random things they had. But what became troubling, was how many vendors there were. We walked about four blocks under the overpass, and almost all the pavement underneath had space taken up for commerce. It was a sketchy market, that was busy with cars, lorries, motorcycles, and pedestrians, but it felt sad, desperate, and eerie. Maybe it was just me. I couldn’t believe my eyes, at the dystopia I was viewing. I was discouraged from taking photos because of safety, and even if I could, I’m not sure I could feel ok with it, without feeling as though I’m exploiting these people.  

Soon enough we found our way to Plaza Minorista, and that started out as pretty cool. It was a huge area with many vendors selling fruits, veggies, tubers, and other things. It also had great little restaurants. Passing through, all these shops, it was either visually appealing, or simple smelt great! We got some sweet corn arepas called choco’s that were incredible, followed buy a delicious fish stew. I wanted to try everything, because everything looked a cut above the cafes and restaurants in Florista. After our meal, we realized there was completely different section that we missed out on. So we walked across a busy lane to another building, only to realize, we were in an indoor version of what we saw an hour earlier. Tiny retail spaces filled with things, and stuff. That’s the only way I could describe it. All the spots were so tight together, so tight that safety for consumers and vendors, not a concern here. One vendor is spraying some sort of chemical to a piece of metal, and beside him was an arepa stand. Across the arepa stand was a vendor who sold various tires; used, and new, car, and bicycle. Most of all it was dark and crammed in there. It was such a contrast from the other side of the market. At the edges of this building was something maybe even sadder. Smuggled birds, goats, puppies, hens, and pigs, were all for sale. The goats and puppies were quite sad to watch. They were crammed in cages with not much room to move. What’s worse was the amount of animals that were being sold. Hundreds, dare I say, thousands? You couldn’t help but feel sad. We asked a vendor that had a beautiful colorful bird, what species it was., but the vendor was not interested in discussing any of that, and just ignored us. We may have appeared too curious and untrustworthy, so we moved on, not wanting to further stick out.

I never meant to uncover any of these dark places in Medellin, but this was the flow of my journey. It just presented itself, and I will never forget it.

Afterwards we went to a fancy mall that had a movie theatre. We needed to kill some time, and decided to watch star wars. The contrast between the two places showed me the caste system of Medellin. You have money and can present yourself in a decent way, you can come to this mall, if not go where you can afford. All these thoughts came to me because I was in a comfortable area, and being able to clear my mind of paranoia and fear, and process what I had just experienced.

My neighbourhood called Floresta, was a safe and very local neighbourhood. It was much more catered for locals than the trendy Poblado neighbourhood, which was filled with hostels occupied by first world travellers. A tinto, (coffee) in the neighborhood cost five hundred pesos. In Poblado it would be triple. The same would go for local fare. Three times the price with half the flavour, and fare fewer places for local fare. If you want pizza in Colombia, Poblado is your spot. Floresta on the other hand, had numerous restaurants, serving the popular local dish, bandeja de paisa, (basically a plate filled with chicharron, sausage, steak, fried plantain, rice and beans, and a fried egg), as well as arepa shops, bakeries, and fried chicken joints. I could have spent a month and probably couldn’t have sampled all the cafes and restaurants in Floresta. The main avenue was filled with delicious local fare as well as numerous street vendors who would come out at night to serve the inebriated. This neighbourhood was harmonious, active, and felt much more real rather than simulated Poblado experience.

Meeting locals, I fell deeper for the charm. The hospitality provided was unexpected. My host’s aunt, Elizabeth showed me around the neighbourhood, was patient with my Spanish, and even took me to a neighbourhood market where we purchased some fruits and veggies and cooked together. Elizabeth was a trained chef specializing in pastries. Unfortunately we didn’t have much time together, however she took the time to show me how to make a delicious chicken soup called ajiaco. It was kind of simple; corn, potatoes, and a few herbs I have never heard of, boiled together, then place cooked pieces of chicken in a bowl and pour the soup over, and finish with a teaspoon or two of cream.

This experience kind of made me feel like these folks were very similar to my friends and family. As though they had the same values, and only wanted to provide for my well being. I thought to myself, there isn’t much difference on their expectations and out look in life. They certainly don’t have as much money, or entitlements, but fundamental values of treating human beings with dignity, hospitality, comfort and safety were as important. It was so comfortable at times that it almost felt like a first world city. However I soon realized my hosts were sort of simulating my experience because they were concerned for my safety. I was given a lot of touristy suggestions, like shopping malls, museums, and the planetarium. If I told them I was going to particular neighbourhood they deemed a little concerning, then I was given instructions on how to behave, interact, and protect myself. I jut took this as great hospitality, because I was in love. All of this in my first two days, I couldn’t help but romance the idea of living here, or at least staying in the city for a few months. However I soon discovered a world I couldn’t fathom to imagine. But first, a night on the town was in need.

Night life is lively in Medellin. Lots of bars and lively avenues to frequent to. I didn’t partake in much, and looked more for a slower tempo of night life, and I found that at a Tango bar in downtown Medellin. Salon Malaga is a throwback to a generation that grew up on Tango when it was the trendiest cultural movement. I can safely say, my friend Valeria, and her friend, (some german woman), were the youngest individuals at the bar.  Average age was about sixty I would say. Valeria knew one of the musicians, and we were able to secure a table, which is normally booked weeks in advance. The only catch was that you had to purchase a minimum amount of alcohol, which turned out to be like $40 between the three of us. 

When you walk into the Salon Malaga, its quite bright, and seems kind of strange for a bar. But I think that made the experience all the more unique. The space was filled with antique music instruments, like phonographs, guitars, and saxophones. There were also various photos of famous latin American tango musicians, of which I knew none. We sat down, and ordered a bottle of Aguardiente, which is a liquorice type flavoured colombian liquor. Quite cheap in all of colombia, an gets the job done. There was a three piece band playing; guitarist, accordion, and keyboardist, atop a very tiny stage. Shortly after a few sad instrumentals, a man in a suit emerged. He looked like a real crooner, and soon sang like one. After a few songs, he was joined by a woman. They did a couple duets together, and it was captivating. They were true vocalists, and the joyful sadness of the music was captured by these two old people. I look around and I see other tables filled with people and bottles of rum, singing along and weeping uncontrollably with a smile of their face.  Valeria told me how this music was referred to as cutting your wrists, because of how sad and traumatic the stories of lost love were.  A quote that resonated with the patrons heavily was “you only hate what you have loved.” Throughout the night these two vocalist’s serenaded various tables, and with the exception of my table, everyone knew the words to the songs that were sung. I felt like I was taken back fifty years in South America. One last highlight, a man selling empanadas showed up near the end and it was delicious. One weird fact; this place had two stalls for men to take a leak, right by the bar. Everyone in the room could see various men taking leaks, if they chose to. The only thing providing coverage were saloon style half doors from the wild west. It was weird and kind of liberating, that I could piss, and hear this beautiful sad music. 

Many bridges, highway overpasses, and green spaces close to main roads were littered with trash and homeless people sleeping in the middle of the afternoon in the sunniest and hottest parts of the day. It wasn’t shocking but, it was a new way of viewing poverty. I’ve just never seen beautiful palm trees and finely manicured hedges, alongside homeless people sprawled out on the grass looking severely inactive and in need of some care. 

 Next I decided to solve my uber problem, and meet Jairo at his place for lunch. My uber was still not working, and yet again another cab was called. It took almost forty minutes to get to Jairo’s place, which was about 10 km away. That’s like going to Scarborough from Brampton. One more thing I didn’t account for, traffic in Bogota. I didn’t realize Bogota had one quarter the population of Canada within its city limits. That equates to a lot of cars, motorcycles, and busses, moving at a snails pace, most of the time. Regardless I made it to Jairo’s for lunch. Now Jairo can barely speak a lick of English, and then there is my amazing Spanish vocabulary that a two year old can easily outclass. So here I am having a delicious lunch with Jairo and his lovely wife, and trying my hardest to converse with them. As overwhelming as it was, trying to understand, it was a necessary interaction, for the improvement of my Spanish. 

Shortly after lunch Jairo takes me to downtown Bogota, and we take the local transit system. It was a very long bus, almost as long as the Scarborough RT. Thankfully Bogota has dedicated bus lanes, which cuts down the travel time due to traffic. It’s actually the quickest way to get around the city. The sheer volume of cars makes it painstakingly slow to get from one area of the city to the other. 

Riding the bus you get to see the pace and many different visuals of the city. The traffic is crazy, and at a stand still, but on the bus it felt like a privilege to be able to move faster than the cars. However the bus was filled with as much congestion as the lanes the cars were in. Every stop, and every street corner, was filled with human motion. People selling fruits, candy, novelty items on the street and sidewalk. It seemed as though any space was good for potential commerce. Even the bus was a place of commerce. There many displaced Venezuelans teenagers, who would offer candy in the hopes of getting five or ten cents worth of pesos. I wondered what their situation was like, and I could get an answer I could understand too well from Jairo, but his sentiments were, that it’s a poor way of generating money. There was also show on the bus, with a Venezuelan rapper, who did a freestyle on the bus to the beat of bitch please pt 2. I thought to myself, of all the instrumentals you chose bitch please pt2? Cool. 

Graffiti as well was prevalent in much of my bus trip. Anti corruption, social justice, and the plight of the poor were the norm in most of those pieces. Bogota is a pretty city. Something amazing and grandiose about a city built in a valley surrounded by mountains, especially a tropical one. The architecture is nothing special, but in the Centro Commercial there is some nice old Spanish architecture. Centro Commercial is a huge area, with federal and municipal government buildings, museums, a huge central square, various areas of commerce. Restaurants both local and cosmopolitan, as well local drug dealer, and prostitute hangouts. They had it all at Centro Commercial, and where ever we were, there thousands upon thousands of people, and most of the area was free of vehicles. Jairo and I also talked for hours, I just don’t know what we were talking about most of the time! But whenever he asked me a question regarding what I wanted to do, I was able to understand. Jairo made me try various things as well. Pitaya, (some sort of dragon fruit thing), Some amazing empanadas made with a special type of corn, some great street coffee, a sweet drink of some sort made with condensed milk, and a strarchy palm fruit called peji baye, (Colombians call it something else, and I forgot as soon as I was told.)

A quick recap.

The first three months, was all about preparing the fields, planting, keeping on top of irrigation and weeding, as well as some light harvesting and preparation for the market. Some of these weeks there wasn’t a day we didn’t clock in less than12 hours. It was taxing the on the body and a slowly infiltrating presence of dismay, and frustration on the psyche. Always looking forward, me an my apprentice mates thought we were in the clear after June, that things will slow down, that we would have adjusted for the pace, but our fore site  and reality were miles apart. More succession plantings, more weeding, more harvesting, more pressure on irrigation, not to mention the unexpected way ahead of schedule crops like raspberries that came into play and put a wrench in the days outcomes. It wasn’t until August that we stopped planting and focused more on maintenance and harvesting. However when August arrived we were down a person. This added more pressure but, somehow it worked itself out. Even though planting was done, we had orders for restaurants, that would have to be filled on non market days. This put pressure on us because we had to pick everything fresh for the restaurants and had to have it done in a few hours before Michael or his wife left to Vancouver on the ferry. Then end of August we lost one more person, and this created much more stress, a chronic stress rather than an acute stress. The type where you wake up in the morning dreading having to work. The kind at the end of the day where you want to chug back three beers to numb the pain of the stress, and try to find the will to do something proactive in the farm to get away from the drudgery, only to realize you are too tired and anything past 8pm is going to disrupt the rest needed to start your next day. However there were some highlights where we didn’t give a shit because it did help to restore our sanity, like the pot luck organized by the homy Daniel, to encourage a social outing with all the young farmers on the island. Other times, we just called it a day early, because we knew we were exhausted and overworked and needed the time off. Those days the energy and motivation were pretty nonexistent, and any excuses to not work were always considered and accepted. By the starting of September my relationship with Michael had changed quite a bit as well. My perspective on how this farm was run, how the food was used and sold, how connected this farm was to its community, how we were run, how much benefit was coming to me in comparison to what I was giving had all changed. Was I giving up, or was I realizing that my ideals would have never lined up with Michael’s approach? Regardless I gave my notice and left to work at North End Farm. Maybe it was a new beginning but work felt much more fulfilling, easy, and my own well being and connection to other humans was the strongest It had been in a long time during those couple weeks at North End. Maybe it’s an unfair comparison because the season was slowing, nonetheless it was a revitalizing change, that gave me a renewed faith and motivation, that I made the right decision and continue my farming endeavour.

So I thought I would talk about my ideals and how it hasn’t merged with the realities of my time at foxglove. This may come off bias or may come off valid, either way I’m open to critique, and ready to consider another perspective wether negative or positive if any are sent my way. Besides, how else can we improve and demonstrate a path filled with awareness, empathy, and compassion, if we can’t question, or be questioned, and admit or at least consider our faults, and criticisms?

So I’ll start with what my sense of community is, and look to a quote by the great American writer Wendell berry to sum up community from his book of essays, Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community. He writes, “By community, I mean the commonwealth and common interests, commonly understood, of people living together in a place and wishing to continue to do so. To put it another way, community is a locally understood interdependence of local people, local culture, local economy, and local nature…. Lacking the interest of or in such a community, private life becomes merely a sort of reserve in which individuals defend their "right” to act as they please and attempt to limit or destroy the “rights” of other individuals to act as they please. A community identifies it self by an understood mutuality of interests. But it lives and acts by the common virtues of trust, goodwill, forbearance, self restraint, compassion, and forgiveness.“

Now I don’t completely understand the behaviour of the salt spring community. I do not know how the island trust operates, or for most part, how the entire community operates, but I do know how Michael does. Some of the things that made me feel that Michael was disconnected from the community was based on how he sold his food, and how he processed his food, and how some people reacted to purchasing his food. These I believe go along way in making members of the community feel included. I certainly felt like a hypocrite when I was selling his food.

A farmer to me is someone responsible for not just growing food, but feeding its local community, and growing and stabilizing its local economy. To feed a local community it should be somewhat affordable yet reasonable to charge for both, value for customer and livelihood for farmer. So first let’s look at salt spring as a community and how it operates. Salt spring is a tourist destination. It is an island that triples in size come summer time from ten thousand to thirty thousand. It is heading in the direction where only the wealthy can afford to live. It is quite difficult to find housing for rent, especially for locals who have employment, because most rental units are air bnb units. This presents a huge problem. It starts the trend of an exodus of local citizens, because they have no place to live during the busiest most employable time of the year. It also takes away from local entrepreneurial hospitality facilities because they have to now compete with units only purchased for an air bnb investment. This leads to a crunch in available housing, which may lead to an increase in rental prices, and a possible future shortfall in profits for the local small business. Now because salt spring is a rural island, many things are quite expensive, such as groceries, clothes and gas. With the arrival of seasonal affluence there has also arrived a disparity in wealth, and salt spring has taken measures to take care of its low income citizens by providing a food stamp program, which is available dollar for dollar at the farmers market. Here is where my beef with foxglove pricing lies. Foxglove is the most expensive farmstand at the market. How expensive might you ask? Let’s take for example a simple peasant food in the form of cabbage. Usually an organically grown cabbage will be around $2 a pound, Michael charged $8 a pound, which meant buying a whole head sometimes came to fifteen dollars. Huh? An apple, usually, two per pound, Michael charged six, and that translates to about three dollars for one Apple. A bunch of carrots, was always four dollars, but in the bunch you get maybe three big carrots sometimes four. Peppers, eight dollars a pound. But the kicker was the water melon. I get that water melons are heavy and constitute a lot of sustenance per fruit, however I saw one customer pay $35 for one watermelon. I was blown away by this. This is not exactly why I decided to grow food. Growing food ethically is one thing, but selling food ethically should also go hand in hand. So now how do you feed the folks in the low income bracket or the ones that have to depend on food stamps, when your prices are kind of absurd? From my observation this had the makings of a vicious cycle, where the low income folks cannot buy the best nutrition and have to settle for lesser nutrition, or buy a quaint amount of food for their families with the stamps they received at an expensive farm stand. I strongly believe this nutrition should be accessible to everybody. I understand the paradigm salt spring is in, but this isn’t exactly inclusivity for all. Most of Michael’s food is sold to wealthy people. People who don’t care what the price is because the money they spend does not effect their financial circumstances. To give you an example, I baked a couple loaves of bread for a gathering Michael had at the farm which had a few wealthy people and a crew from a restaurant in Vancouver called farmers apprentice. The affluent folk loved my bread and wanted me to bake some loaves for them, I was offered $40 for a couple loaves. I couldn’t believe what I was offered. Who the hell pays twenty dollars for a loaf of bread? Don’t these people understand the value of a baked good? It was also a bit insulting, and throwing around money like that in my face was belittling. So this I feel is some of the customer base that frequents the foxglove  market stand. So you might say what’s the big deal, you get a chance to make some money. Yes that’s true but if my bread is a hit, and I do sell it at that price, then I’m part of the problem and contribute to the declining local community. I certainly should get value for it, but there has to be an opportunity for others to be able to afford my bread. Maybe not all the time, but at least some of the time. I was working for an exclusive stand, I felt horrible when some folks came and purchased groceries with their food stamps knowing it didn’t go very far. I was partaking in capitalism, which doesn’t exactly bring about fruitful community fundamentals. There was also this dog eat dog world mentality. Where if we didn’t bring a product Michael would say come back next week, we sold out. Which was a lie, cause we never had it to begin with. Or if somebody bought strawberries from another stand, Michael would ask the customer to sample his strawberry. Essentially putting the customer in this weird position and at the same time looking like an ass. If it were me and I didn’t have a particular product I would refer the customer to another farm who may have. I would also not pit my product against another farmers, because what is the big deal if some other stand made a sale on strawberries. Now Michael did grow one hell of a delicious strawberry, and I thought for a while, man maybe his products are worth it. Then I went to North end farms, and tasted there’s, and it was very comparable to Michael’s. Then There was all the food that got wasted. There was so much food that could have been given to a food bank or turned to preserves that just got thrown in the compost because Michael tried to sell them and didn’t take notice of its expiration. That very much bothered me. So many people in this world have no access to good nutrition, and here I am taking boxes of food to the compost bin. Treating every crop like it has dollar signs does not speak to me about inclusiveness. That was a harsh and frustrating reality to be around. Add the amount of time and effort put in the fields, and it begins to get old really quick.

This among other things certainly helped make my decision to leave foxglove in September easier. Michael and myself kind of agreed to disagree on what was expected at the farm, and to this day I feel like there was a disconnected line of communication, probably by both ends.  Now this is Michael’s farm and he has his reasons for running it the way he does, and for all I know it could be justified, so this wasn’t meant to make him look bad. It’s just my opinion. Michael, I genuinely believe is a good human. I also think he is genuinely oblivious to things and comes off as an ass because of it. He does have some remarkable qualities. He is a kind man, he does care about social equality, and environmental justice. He has organized benefit concerts for issues such as that. He also runs an incredible urban farm in Vancouver called sole foods, where people living in the poorest postal code in the country get a chance to be employed. He also wrote a book about it, called street farm that is worth the read.

http://solefoodfarms.com  

Michael is also one of the farmers responsible for the organic movement in the US, most notably in California, which we all should appreciate because he was fighting the good fight when this movement was still relatively unknown some thirty odd years ago. Most of all he has passed on his knowledge to numerous apprentices who grow food in an ethical manner, and now to me, Of which I am grateful for. Something I can never pay back, but certainly pay forward.

Michael also had an appreciation for the aesthetic. He used the fields as his own canvass and painted a pretty beautiful picture with the crops he grew. The pic below is an idea of that painting but really doesn’t do it justice.

There were also some things that I was exposed at foxglove that helped me to validate this experience and be more involved with food. I met guests who stayed at the farm and left touching letters to me and my coworkers stating their appreciation and how they were inspired by our stories and efforts. It made the drudgery worth it, and in such an isolating place it was a great reminder and motivator to keep pushing on. It also made me remember how valuable and wonderful those human sentiments are for well being, and it’s something I hope to practice more.

There was also some dinners Michael organized with chefs that really made me motivated to create my own farm to plate experience, and be more involved in cooking, which I have denied myself for a long time. I got to see first hand how a reputable restaurant crew from Vancouver interacted, and prepared meals for us, at the same time picking their brain and getting a much better understanding of how the restaurant they worked at was run. It was a much better outlook than I had imagined. I always thought it was some Gordon Ramsey yelling and verbally abusing you type environment. But these guys showed me and demonstrated a different idea on cooking culture. Much appreciated Farmers Apprentice crew.

But most of all, Michael gave me the opportunity to learn from the best teacher, myself. Michael leaving myself and other apprentices  to our own vices was the best way we all learned to get the job done. Wether that was his plan I don’t know? But he would leave us a list of tasks and leave to Vancouver for a couple days, and this gave us a sense of urgency to have the job done and have it done well. At first we sucked at it, but we improved quite well, and were quite surprised of our progress. We prioritized and organized ourselves quite well, whereas when Michael worked with us in the fields, we would have some super long days that were a bit all over the place. Like a rag tag operation, which added to the frustration because we would be pulled in different directions, not to mention micromanaged, which further added annoyance to the drudgery. He would ask us to do a specific task then change his mind thirty minutes later, or get us to harvest a crop then tell us to stop and harvest it later in the day so it could ripen more, which never made much sense to me because it never made a huge difference in the amount that was picked. The continuity of work flow was always disrupted and that can at times piss you off. Working on my own also brought a sense of calmness. It was the most relaxed and pleasurable part of being out in the fields, where I felt the most at peace and having the most purpose and drive. This experience really allowed me to see how capable and reliable I can be, and it’s something that I don’t think I ever observed in myself. Probably cause I didn’t give a shit at other jobs or tasks the same way I do here.

One of the hardest things as a farmer is to have a social life during the most habitable time of the year. With the work and isolation it takes a lot out of you and leaves very little for anything else. Often times me and the other apprentices would light a fire and cook a meal on the fire, have a couple beers then go to bed.

As good as that is, that can as well get old and tiring quick, because there is still effort to be put just so you can relax for a couple hours at best.

Thankfully I met some pretty great folks. Mostly young farmers who organized a weekly potluck to hang out and get to know each other. It took until August for it to happen but in that short span I went to six potlucks, got to know some great farmers and non farmers, and established a little sanity. Spending time with likeminded folks who genuinely take interest in you and vice versa was a welcome of normalcy. This weekly potluck introduced me to moose hunters, veterinarians, different farmers and other apprentices from different parts of Canada. I was longing for diversity. This wasn’t quite what I expected diversity to be, especially being from Toronto. However my idea of diversity based on what Toronto is, I eventually found to be sort of a narrow minded view. This group showed me another slice of what the truth of diversity is. I can say every person I met I could have learned something from them. Everyone had an interesting story that was not just fascinating, but felt like It led me to a new frontier of sorts. Little things like humour, lifestyle, and cooking all opened a veil of ignorance I carried. These potlucks also had a descent spread of food, to accompany the joking, and sometimes a guitar, or a banjo would come out while we all let loose and talk shit on whatever and whoever we wanted.

When I made my decision to leave foxglove it may seem that it came from sheer frustration, or an emotionally charged place, or I was just plain giving up. But that was not the case at all. Yes the frustration mounted, my ideals felt compromised, and almost on a daily basis near the end of my tenure; I was waking up with dread. But when the decision was made to leave, it came from a very calm place, and when I left, there was no cognitive dissonance. I didn’t care anymore about lost networking opportunities, or reference letters. The allure of michaels fame, and the possibilities that could have been provided didn’t matter anymore. It was maybe one of the more sure shot decisions I have ever felt correct about. Like I didn’t sell out.

Not to say that making decisions based on emotion won’t work for you. Sometimes you have to ride the wave. But sometimes our emotions do a great job of masking or distorting the reality of what we perceive will be the outcome of our decision. Sometimes we have no option and have to make choices in haste, but the times we don’t, it is important to see things for what they are, and decide if it’s an overreaction to emotion or another unforeseen circumstance, so when you do make your decision, you are standing on a good foundation, not afraid, and not over confident.

Oddly enough I leave one Michael to go work with another Michael. Talk about polarizing. My buddy Michael Cronk picked me up and drove me to my new two week home at North End Farms. The farm is owned by the Daillys. They all are a generous and caring bunch of folks, who I feel utterly grateful to. They provided me with a home, and employment on short notice, and considering I’m only there for a short period of time. In those two weeks I saw a different idea of farming in comparison to foxglove. North End had the usual veggies, greens, and night shades, but there was also animal systems. There was sheep grazing, horses mucking about, and cows on another site. They also had a dedicated farm stand, selling meat, fresh picked fruits, veggies, and flowers along with some delicious baked goods made by Sally Dailly. Most of what was harvested went to the farm stand, where as foxglove, we would load the truck with so much food, because the farmers market was the primary source of income for foxglove. I didn’t see as much food waste in comparison to foxglove, probably because of the dedicated farm stand that had customers coming everyday to buy something. I was also not micromanaged. I was fully trusted with every task I was asked to do. The work schedule was the biggest difference. It was not as demanding, around eight hours, or more if so you choose to. To be fair, I know during the busiest times of the year there will always be long days no matter what farm you are at, and I never had the chance to experience what was happening at North end during that period. Regardless though, everything was different, from the landscape, the working, and social relationships to the culture of North End. I was renewed and refreshed.

This new start gave me a renewed spirit, that validated everything I did in salt spring. I loved being out and working on the fields, I had time to unwind and go for walks with my pack, and I found the brilliance of solitude again.

So what is intensive farming? Quick break down. Intensive farming is spending a lot of capital on inputs such as manual labour, technological innovation, and mechanization to work the land or a green house to produce high yields and low fallow. Seems pretty simple and harmless until you see what that money buys and how those products are implemented. For example technological innovation could be inputs of pesticides, chemical fertilizers, and plant growth regulators. All of which compromise the real nutrition provided to us and the land it's grown on as well as, a more critical issue, the after effects and unforeseen externalities, such as depletion of ground water, poisoning of water sheds, and eutrophication, (heavy doses of nitrogen and other nutrients that are leaked into rivers and lakes, which end up suffocating the watershed of all oxygen) of our estuaries. (What is an estuary you might ask? where rivers meet the oceans. These places are some of the most bio diverse places in the world). There are also different types of intensive farming, from fruit and veggie growing, to raising animals for meat, dairy, and eggs, to producing cereals for consumption and baling hey. All these different types, have a right way, and a wrong way of being worked.

The following is a quick snap shot of different versions of intensive farms according to me. There is much more information and for the sake of keeping it to the point I made this brief list.

Intensive farms the ugly

-Heavily dependant on fossil fuels. -Often use a big plot of land for one crop, which has proven to lead to disease, infertile land, followed by a disappearance of bio diverse life forms. -Use technological innovations, such as chemical fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides, to control and get predictable uniform behaviour from crops. -Fruits and veggies ripened using various gasses, fossil fuels, and chemicals for the purpose of supply and demand. -Feedlots, often only feed corn or soy to the animals in a tight space. Disease, and bacterial outbreaks are often the result, as well as added fossil fuel emissions into the atmosphere. These farms are the same places that supply you with meat and veggies at your grocery store. -Deplete soil fertility due to lack of cover crop and extensive use of chemical fertilizers which kill most nutrients, fertility and life forms within and around the land. -Nutrient density in crops often non existent.

Intensive farms the compromise

-Dependant on fossil fuel inputs such as tractors, and combines -Do not use chemical fertilizers. -Till land by way of mechanical inputs, which causes stress to the microbial environment in soil causing fertility and top soil to decline. -Use of polycrop system which includes annual and perennial food systems and crop rotation techniques. -promotes bio diversity, and more bushels of food per acre than that of a mono crop field. -Use natural techniques and organic matter to grow, ripen, and cure food. -Maintain and Improve soil fertility, by way of using compost, crop rotation and cover cropping after harvest. -Nutrient density in food grown, is exponentially more than non organic.

Intensive farms the ideal

-Limited or no dependancy on fossil fuel inputs. -Use of poly crop system which includes annual and perennial food systems and crop rotation techniques. -Promotes bio diversity, and more bushels of food per acre than that of a mono crop field. -Use of natural systems or a mimic of natural systems, that brings a harmony and balance with nature. -incorporate animals to add balance, strength and fertility, to food, land, and ecosystem. -Improve soil fertility by way of compost, cover cropping, and more use of perennial food systems for less disturbance of land and soil. -Food grown has a nutrient density far superior to a non organic farm. -Minimum till involved, due to intensive labour and use of hand tools, as well as use of perennial system rather than intensive annual systems.

What a lot of people don't understand about growing food, is that in order to grow nutritious and healthy whole foods, you must always start with healthy soil. You need happy healthy soil, to get the best nutrition on your plates. Yes, soil is alive, and is in itself an ecosystem and in my opinion an organism. To have happy healthy soil, you have to feed the various organisms that live in the soil for the nutrient density to have value and create delicious food. So worms, fungi, bacteria and various other microbes need to be fed to cycle the nutrients in forms of minerals, chemicals, and proteins, so that plants can take that along with photosynthesis, create a highly nutritious form of sustenance to us or other animals, of which we end up eating. You want to eat the best steak, you will need that cow to graze the best vegetation, courtesy of healthy soil. However there is a balance needed to maintain proper soil fertility. If you over fertilize your soil, it becomes too rich, and as stated in Dan Barbers book, The Third Plate, "the crops start to resemble a guy on the street who's had too much to drink." If say your soil was the opposite and it was lacking fertility, then you will get certain weeds presenting themselves giving you information on what your soil is lacking, for example the presence of dock will let you know that your soil may have a high lime content. There is a great article about weeds and the indications they give of soil conditions posted by Ecological Agricultural Projects from the University of McGill. Posted below is the link.

eap.mcgill.ca/publications/EAP67.htm

The healthy plants produced by healthy soils also eliminate pests. Insects only attack unhealthy plants, giving the opportunity for healthy plants to maintain their lineage and strengthen the gene pool. Unfortunately due to the use of chemical fertilizers and poor farming practices, our soil reserves have been disappearing.

Soil reserves are being depleted in many parts of the world, which can lead to outcomes like desertification. If good land turns to poor land, no matter how much rain you get, water will not soak in, and the nutrients will get washed away and erode. Soil that is fertile is not just better for growing food but it helps to alleviate flood damage, water shortages, and allows for rain water to soak into the soil, rather than leach the nutrients and wither away the soil. By the 1970's a third of the arable top soil in the United States was washed away into the sea. Who knows where it's at now, a lot worse I'm guessing.

Contrary to popular belief that chemical fertilizers are what balance the soil and allow for the optimal soil conditions to grow food, has been debunked for well over 50 years. Natural farming, or organic farming has proven in many ways how to balance and feed soil not just without damaging it, but improving the land. Chemical farming made way by the Haber Bosch process of making NPK, (chemical fertilizer that fixes nitrogen in soil) although providing record yield after record yield, has caused more damage than gain in agriculture. Where as if it were done organically, we would be looking at planting legumes because they magically fix the nitrogen in the soil. The legumes are able to grab the nitrogen in the atmosphere and feed it to the soil, giving it what it needs, and wants. While I was in Costa Rica, there were rows of leguminous trees that were planted between rows of fruit trees to help with the process of nitrogen fixing. Where as at my current farm, Foxglove, an organic intensive annual farm, replenishes nitrogen to the soil once a crop has been harvested. The harvested field is cover cropped with clover grass to replenish the soil from fall until spring when the field will be used again for planting its annuals.

In the book written by Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird, the secret life of plants, states, "it should be obvious that soil is vital to health. Healthy soil, properly composted, with the right bacteria, fungi, and earthworms, free from chemical fertilizers and pesticides, produces strong healthy plants which naturally repel pests. Healthy plants make strong healthy animals and strong healthy human beings. Poor land grows poor food, poor vitamins, minerals, enzymes and proteins; this produces poor, sick people. Worn out land causes people to leave the farms and go to live in the slums."

That last part is rather harsh, and maybe over the top, but what is explained here is what has happened all over the world. There has been a mass diaspora from rural living to city living. Many small holder farmers have to leave their communities to find work in cities, because of either lack of income, or food due to famine, or policy changes, making it difficult to have a livelihood in a rural area. I  was also told this by friends in Costa Rica who saw there friends leave the small town of Mastatal for work in the big city, only to see their physiology completely change. Going from healthy individuals to pot bellied bread eating fiends.  Basically abandoning the best nutrition and active life they could have had for an empty source of nutrition, and a fast paced stress that only a city can offer. All this can puts ones health in a state of imbalance. To prove this point further, in Dan barber's book The Third Plate, discusses the nutrient density in a carrot grown in a monoculture "organic" field by a big multinational corporation, in relation to one grown at his farm, Stone Barns, in upstate New York. Dan's farming friends pulled out a device called a refractometer which measures nutrient density by giving a reading of the sugar concentration. Anything above a 10 is a good healthy product. The grocery store "organic" carrot had a reading of zero. Meaning you are not really getting what you're  paying for, and you are certainly not anything nutritionally speaking. Most of those zero carrots are headed for big cities and surrounding suburbs. I can attest to that because my body has changed so much since I started eating organic whole foods, courtesy of Rancho Mastatal and Foxglove farms, but when I come back to Toronto, it's quite easy to fall back onto non organic foods, because it is served everywhere and quite cheap, and once again I see my body change in the brief months I'm there.

So you might ask yourself how can a carrot grown and labelled organically have barely any nutrition in it? It's organic and you assume it was grown ethically. This is where the confusion and treachery by the big guys gets even more evident. Simply put, they don't feed the soil what it needs, and to know what it needs, you have to observe it. Most big ag corporations do what they can to maximize the most for the least. In this case they will create many short cuts to reach organic food grade codes, charge you more for the organic label, and for the empty nutrition, They probably don't cover crop once harvesting is done, which is vital for soil health when you are growing annual crops. They probably may not use compost, or minerals, and will almost find someway of using some sort of pesticide or herbicide that has not been put on the banned substance list. All this tells me, that the system is flawed, and rather than seeing adds at grocery stores for organic foods, which trick you, you should see a section where you can purchase food grown by way of chemicals, and call it chemical foods. Then have a complete other section called regular food that has never once had any human alchemy touch it. Guarantee you, it will make you think twice about what you buy.

To take it another step further and guilt y'all a bit more, there are big unforeseen externalities when you buy chemical foods. Sure there is your long term health that is surely affected, but there is also the fact that those growing your food in the field have such an unfair life, so you can purchase your food at an affordable price. Take for instance the Florida tomato producers. In the book The Value Of Nothing, author Raj Patel, does some startling investigating on the Florida tomato business, which produces ninety percent of the winter tomato supply for the U.S. What he finds is modern day slavery in the first world. These farmers work for private family owned corporations like Six L's packing company, and Pacific Tomato growers, and are over worked, immensely under paid, causing them to live in unbelievable living conditions, especially considering it is in a first world country. As Patel writes in his book "Work for tomato pickers is irregular, dependent on the weather, and merciless. A talented picker who is lucky enough to work in a field that hasn't yet been picked (they're picked up to four times, and on the fourth sweep, there's pitifully little left on the vine) can fill 150 buckets a day. Workers lift up to 2.4 tons of tomatoes per day, sold in the stores for about $5000, and for which they might get paid $67 for twelve hours work. This is a rate of 45 cents per thirty two pound bucket of green tomatoes, and it has increased only five cents in the past thirty years- If the piece rate had only kept up with inflation it would today be $1.02 per bucket"

Now consider these folks living conditions. They live in an off campus trailer park where a handful of local slumlords charge them forty dollars a week to share a trailer that is crammed with 8 people. Every morning they cue to use the bathroom, and stove in the evening. If they want an AC unit they pay an additional twenty dollars a week, and if they wanted to wash the pesticides of there skin after work, they were charged $5. Some workers thought it better to wash their hands in bleach.

Reading this, I was heartbroken and disgusted, that something like this would happen not just in the first world but close enough to Canada. Now I don't think Canada has this type of human rights issues with agriculture, that I know of, but most of our winter produce comes from South America or the States. So what are the externalities of what we buy in a grocery store? I don't know, but if this situation can happen in the states, who knows what happens elsewhere in the world, that we are blind to.

Another inconvenient truth

Sadly it gets worse. I said earlier agriculture is the largest producer of green house gas emissions. That is all thanks to the factory farming method of feedlots for various forms of livestock. Rather than have cattle grazing and eating a varied nutritious diet of grasses, weeds and grains, they are subjected to hybridized and cheaply produced corn and soy feed. This type of nutrition is made to get the cow fat, so when you buy a steak it gets a nice marbling. However, once again it is very empty nutrition.

If a cow got to graze rather than fed grain, it would eat a very varied and nutritious diet. A cow is very good at finding what it needs for its own diet. A cow may start off eating a particular type of grass, but it will move on when it has eaten a sufficient quantity, because it needs other nutrients from other sources of vegetation. It instinctually does this because the nutrients it needs, doesn't just come from one or two things. A cow eating grass also helps to make the grass thrive, because when a cow bites down on grass its mouth is designed by nature in a way to not be able to eat the whole plant in one bite. So the cow stresses the grass with its bite, which cause the roots of the grass to go deeper and fortify itself, and the tops of the grass to grow with more vigour and abundance. Now over grazing has definitely occurred, but that falls to poor farming practices, and not enough varied vegetation on the land. Essentially you don't have to feed the cow any type of feed, because the cow is instinctually made to eat grass, and knows what it needs. The key in grazing livestock is to not have the animals graze on the same patch of land. You need to implement rotational grazing, so that the grass that has been eaten has time to recover. This type of farming has many benefits. It mimics and completes the circle nature created for wild grazing animals. The dung from the cow will eventually biodegrade and build soil, for future land fertility, and also create a microclimate for grass and soil to not erode, dry up, or wash away from various weather scenarios. Not to mention grasses cover a much bigger area of land than trees and are thus able to sequester more carbon than trees.

The following video is a bit long, but Joel salatin, a very good, intelligent and reputable farmer, does a great job of explaining this.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4Z75A_JMBx4

With feedlots, you get corn and soy fed to the cows, who gorge on it because that's all they have. They are crammed into a pen, and are essentially in a dog eat dog world, a prison for growing meat. It's quite inhumane to only eat, not get excerise, and walk amongst your own, and your fellow mates piss and shit. Herbivores like cows and sheep are grass eaters, and the different grasses they eat give them a variety of nutrition. This unvaried diet and uncleanly situation is the perfect ground for poor quality meat, disease, and health defects. I doubt you ever here of small scale organic cattle farmers having ecoli outbreaks. All the recalls for beef come from feedlot farming. What's worse about this, there is so much cattle shitting and farting, that they are literally spewing out green house gas emissions of monumental proportions from the their bum holes. Worst of all, all the bio mass created from the dung, is not used that effectively. It's often discarded, rather than used as a fertilizer to dress the top soil. Instead the manure becomes a water quality risk, where algae blooms, salmonella, e.coli, and groundwater contamination become increasingly evident. The big difference with rotational grazing, is that the cows eat grass, take a shit, the shit decays and fertilizers the land, before you come back on you next rotation. Allowing for a natural cycle to take place.

But it still gets a little more bizarre with feedlot meat. Now when you go to a grocery store and buy your feed lot steak or ground beef, do you notice the color of the meat? It's like a pinkish red colour. That's not the colour of the meat. That's a die meant to make the meat look clean and neat. When you cook this meat, it may look like blood running out, but it's actually the dye. You go to an organic butcher you will see a much more natural colour, a maroon like colour with a well defined marbling. It may not look all that clean or appealing in comparison to the grocery store, but that's how it should look. To me it's very appealing and natural looking when I see legit organic beef.

Now this isnt meant to turn you off of meat, but this is a video that will give you great idea about why livestock feedlots contribute so much, and in fact the most towards green house gas emissions. However, this doesn't mean I ask you to not eat meat. We need to be more cognizant of our health, and eat in moderation. We certainly do not need to eat meat every day let alone three times a day. Raising livestock is a merit good for the land. Cows, goats, pigs, chickens, sheep, etc, do a huge favour to add fertility to the soil. Not just with their shit, but with their hooves. When grazing animals are raised with good husbandry, there is an amazing give and take relationship here.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WrXaQuBl6Z8

The following Ted talk by Allan savoury explains the importance of grazing animals and why proper husbandry can help you reduce green house gases and reverse the effect of land turning into desserts. So all you vegetarians that think we should all stop eating meat, you are ill informed and lacking some awareness of the importance of ecosystems, and how humans need to mimic natures system for the benefit of all.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=vpTHi7O66pI

Green revolution misconceptions

There is an argument for chemical fertilizers and artificial selection that shows a great success. The green revolution, pioneered by a man named Norman Borlaug, has said to have saved a billion lives, especially in India, where in the nineteen sixties there was a dire need for food. Borlaug was able to breed high yielding crops like dwarf wheat and rice, and distribute hybrid seeds, to help Indians dire food shortage. The only problem, these new varieties would only cork with  synthetic fertilizers, and pesticides. For his efforts, Borlaug received the Nobel peace prize. A worthy distinction for saving a billion lives. However there is a catch. A deep unforeseen externality, that probably a lot of people did not see coming, and the cries from activists in the sixties and seventies, fell on deaf ears. India is in the midst of another possible famine for the same reason the green revolution was a success. The fertilizers, pesticides, and high yield hybrid varieties that were used, have all but depleted her land of fertility. Ground water is polluted, along with that rivers, and creeks, that serve as habitat for many creatures and Eco systems have little life left in it. Crop diversity also suffered, which by now you should know is so very important to healthy land. Not only did India lose a large amount of indigenous crops, but they also lost what makes sense for sense of place, as in a cultural identity. The green revolution was also sparked by the efforts of small holder farmers, however the high yield crops needed vast amounts of lands and vast amounts of chemical fertilizer in the form of NPK, making small holder farmers to discard their polyculture farms in favour of a monoculture. What saved a billion people, was a quick fix, patch work, because now three to four billion people maybe affected in the immediate future. Every year that goes by, these hybrid crops need more and more chemical fertilizer and pesticides to be affective. Without it, it cannot grow. It also takes  upto three maybe four times as much ground water to grow the crops. Imagine a place like India, a culinary center of the world, not being able to produce food for its delicious local cuisine, and having to depend on imports.

Vandana Shiva, a physicist and environmental activist wrote, "it is often said that the so-called miracle of the green revolution in modern industrial agriculture prevented famine because they had higher yields. However these higher yields disappeared in the context of total yields of crops on farms." 

The point she is making is that, you might be able to get say 100 bushels of food on an acre from a monoculture, but, if you take that same acre and planted around 5 different crops, you may get twenty five to thirty bushels per crop, giving you an additional twenty five to to fifty bushels of food. Here at foxglove, we have about a three acres that is farmed intensively in an organic manner, and within the three acres we produced over thirty different fruits and veggies, that are plentiful amounts. This year has been a down year because of the unpredictable nature of weather, however, there is still an abundant amount of delicious food grown.

What Borlaug and the avant garde members of the green revolution failed was in foresight. Not being able to observe and understand what was happening to the land and its surrounding ecosystems could have the potential to bring famine, health defects, and permanent loss of diversity to all its living citizens, from microbe to human. They put together an infrastructure for the moment, but did not prepare one for our grand children, let alone our future sons and daughters.

The need for farms with animal systems, and to eat meat

There is a lot of push back from vegetarians as to why we should not eat meat. They do have a point, and their biggest argument being feedlots giving off the most green house gases in the form of methane emissions. Methane emissions give of triple the emissions of carbon, cause our planet to heat up much more quickly. To a point, I agree, but to a very small point. Yes, methane is released in incredible amounts from cow bums, but the same cannot be said for chickens, goats, lamb and pigs. Cows in comparison double and triple the rest in terms of emissions. Now I still will not advocate for not eating beef, because we need cattle to give fertility to land. They do an incredible service to the planet and us. In return we should give them the life they deserve, to graze the fields, and have freedom to be a cow. Everything a cow gets to do as a cow on open land is a type of trophic cascade. As the Joel salitan video asks, what if McDonald's and Burger King used grass fed, ethically raised beef in their menus. We would all have better nutrition, the ills of feed lots would no longer exist, and everything will belong to a natural cycle. When you displace the natural cycle for immense artificial production, without understanding the outcomes, you are bound to get a broken process, where patch work keeps mounting, until in the end there is no more patch work cause the whole thing imploded. Natures work is designed with so much over compensation and fail safes, that we just have to trust it. The other important things to note is that, we need to eat meat in moderation. We don't need meat everyday, and we should celebrate and be grateful for the service the animals have provided for our own survival, and pleasure. Vegetarians and vegans will also say, that it is cruel to slaughter animals. To that I say, what the hell are you talking about? Ever heard of a lion, or a shark. Do you understand the service they provide to the environment? Have you ever heard of a Venus fly trap? You know the carnivorous plant. Even microbes, in the form of bacteria eat other microbes. This is all part of the give and take relationship that a lot of people are disconnected with. With that said, I leave you with this video, on what is referred to as a trophic cascade, and why predators are important to the overall well being of the planet.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ysa5OBhXz-Q

We need only to understand where humans can be a trophic cascade, and implement it for a harmonious and thriving scenario, so we can no longer be a pestilence to this world. Somewhere between the industrial revolution and present day we as humans abandoned the skill of growing food. Which also soon led us away from the kitchen and making us dependent on others to cook our food. The phrase the whole is greater than the sum of it parts comes to mind when I think of the disconnect we have had with food, both growing and cooking. The moving away from these skills I believe has changed the whole. What if we grew our own tomatoes? What if we canned and preserved our own food with our families rather than depending on a corporation to cook for us? What if we caused a movement to reduce the need of chemical foods, and make organic food the cheaper option? I believe growing our own food is one way to level the nutritional gap between monetary classes, and having it start with children from an early age, will help to set up that infrastructure. The current whole will, I think be quite different in the future if this can be implemented.

Sources

Dan Barber, The Third Plate (penguin books), 57-61

Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird, The Secret life of plants (penguin books), 225

Raj Patel, The Value of Nothing (picador), 125-127

Calm before the storm

I arrive at the farm and meet Jeanne Marie, and Michael, the couple who own and operate the farm. I get shown to my living space. It's nothing like the queen bed I had in that wonderful tree house like structure in Mastatal. It's actually a small trailer, with a bed and some seats. I have one working lamp, and one power outlet, plenty of shelf space and closet space, but am told, to not have any food, because of mice looking for whatever they can scavenge. I like my space. It serves a purpose, which is for me to rest, read and write, and enjoy some of my solitude in plentiful comfort.

Below: Nothing but luxury.

After I settled in, I met the other interns and went for dinner at the main house where Michael, Jeanne Marie and their son Benjamin live. Rice and beans, squash and some awesome Apple juice. We get to know Michael, and he tries his best to give us an orientation, but he ends up getting side tracked and tells us other stories from his glorious farming past, where he name drops all the famous people he has worked with. I probably should have asked him more questions pertaining to the job, but got lost in the grandeur of his stories and started thinking about my possible future networking opportunities. I also should have taken this as a clue, that this very comfortable interaction and all the grand stories that Michael was telling us, was something to not get caught up in, especially being the first day.

Reality hits hard

The first day on the job felt like a crisp cool spring day. A little too cold for me to work outside, I say to myself, but I have no choice but to jump in and build some resilience. Pretty much most of April was cold. There was one odd week where it felt like summer, and was a pleasure to work, but most of the month I felt the cold creeping in my bones as soon as my alarm went off at 5:45 in the morning. The one good thing about the cold, it wakes you up. Sometimes pleasant, but most times you feel wretched. The walk from my trailer to the communal kitchen is about 5 minutes, and that I found was a great way to wind up and prepare for the day, but that cold never really made me feel ecstatic about weeding, or planting, or harvesting. The urge to creep back under my covers and lay motionless was far more alluring.

My first job was weeding the strawberry fields, and pulling out any dead strawberries. Altogether we pulled out 751. I know this because I counted. As we were pulling out weeds, one of the interns was caught sitting cross legged. In a passive aggressive way, Michael chuckles a bit and tells the intern some farmer analogy which essentially calls him lazy, followed by an example of what and how to pull out weeds. I was lucky because just a few moments before, had gotten up from my cross legged position, and was bent over with my back side in the air. Apparently that is the optimal position to pull weeds and keep it moving. However when you are more use to yielding a machete in 30 degree weather rather than have your back bent constantly for a few hours, the acute stress of it turns to chronic mental breakdown, which just adds to the wretchedness of it all. It's cold, at times windy and wet, your back, thighs, and ankles are constantly straining, and at times I felt certain parts of my body seizing. Standing up straight ends up being a release, like coming for air underwater, only to have to go back down again. But this was the beginning, and I can say my endurance, strength, and balance have drastically improved since that first miserable day. There was a demand and a speed Michael wanted us to achieve, and it took a good month for us to come to a respectable level.

After the strawberries Michael asked me to harvest asparagus. He gave me a tutorial, and I ran with it as best I could. I hauled in 30 pounds, and he said to me, "that was good, you picked it up, put your head down and got it done." Small victory, but here come the failures.

Adjusting

As the weeks progressed, we planted strawberries, (remember the 751, that was not even half.) Our pace was in Michael's eyes, painfully slow. As he always reiterated, that we should only be half as slow as him, not any less. This was a reoccurring statement for a while, and I'm sure going forward. The strawberry planting damaged my cuticles, but also my ego. Michael checked on my planting, and with slightest of effort yanked out a few plants I had planted. "This is all wrong, they will die", he said, as well mentioning how slow I was. Now I have never planted strawberries, which is, I think, a valid reason to be slow for your first time, but add to that a cold day, cold clumpy hard soil, along with rocks and pebbles creating more obstacles and preventing you from not just moving fast, but also wasting time trying to hand dig a hole to plant. That day I was given a sort of callous like feeling on the side of my index fingers. An adaptation towards resilience I guess. On a separate day of strawberry planting, we had just finished planting close to a thousand plants, and had even sacrificed half our Saturday, only to be told the following Monday that everything planted was horribly wrong, and that all the strawberries could die. We were made aware of this at the end of the day, when we were just about finished planting the strawberries. Talk about timing. We had to make adjustments to all that were planted to save the crop. We were all quite baffled as to why, since the berries we planted on the first day are doing well. Apparently it all had to do with the soil conditions, which we were made unaware of. 

We have had quite a few of these days, and hours worked at times gets up to thirteen plus hours. It made everyone miserable, including Michael. But it also brought out an appreciative quality that showed an empathetic side of Michael, who felt kind of sorry for what had happened, and for making us work so much. Michael often compensates, by taking us out for dinner or beers. His way of lightening up and cutting out any tensions. The one positive take away from this is that I noticed how smooth, and strong my cuticles looked. The magical communities living in the soil gifted me with a free treatment that maybe the most prestigious and snobbiest of spas could exclusively offer at a stupid cost. Thanks.

We have also planted tomatoes, peppers, onions, kale, chard, broccoli, beets, carrots, cucumbers, melons, peas, beans, minutina, artichokes, and corn. Most of these went relatively smooth. But there were a couple more instances, where we were mislead, and maybe we misunderstood what the instruction was, regardless it left us quite discouraged.

One instance was two weeks after a tomato planting, we were to tie a slip knot from a piece of twine that acted as a trellis to the base of the tomato plant, and wrap the twine around the tomatoes in a clockwise fashion. Michael was away for the day and left us to the task. We finished it and felt good about our work. The next day Michael looks at the tomatoes, and says, "great job guys, it looks awesome." About a week later Michael tells us that the tomatoes are a disaster, and we have to re tie the three hundred plus plants, or it would be a waste. All of us were dumb founded and frustrated. Immediately I say to myself, then why the F&@k did you tell us it looks awesome! Regardless, we made the adjustments and retied all the tomatoes, and now they are thriving. But instances such as this makes me feel like we have lost Michael's confidence and trust in us, and are subjected to more remedial tasks like weeding. I hate weeding. Even that, Michael keeps giving us examples on how to be efficient, and show different ways of weeding for different circumstances, of which I think I know, but really have no idea. The annoyingness of being told how to weed made me feel like an idiot, and just a hired hand that's not out here to really learn. With the compounding frustration, every task begins to take on a monotonous feel, and to see the importance in it, ends up being a very narrow ignorant and entitled scope. That is until you start to see the landscape change and realize the importance of weeding, and cultivating.

Above: Tomatoes about two weeks after planting, tied on to a twine trellis.

Below: Tomatoes thriving one month after planting.

Before most of this we also had to prep fields for planting, which meant, Michael tilling the soil on his tractor, (bitter realization, knowing how horrible it is for the environment), and us taking rakes and shaping the field into rows of raised beds, with furrows in between each bed, followed by a mixing of compost and mineral amendment to give the soil a boost of organic nutrition.

Below: Raised beds for carrot and beet succession.

 On a weekly basis we are watering every field, about once or twice a week, and regulating the temperature in all the tunnel houses for most of the nightshade crops, by way of venting. Basically opening or closing the outer walls of the tunnel houses to release heat if it's too hot, or closing them if it gets too cold or windy.

Market days

The busiest days however are market days. There are two farmers markets on the island. A Saturday market and a Tuesday market. That means, we are harvesting everything we can on the day of, or the day before. It's a mess at times, and our speed as you may have guessed was slow at first. As well, how we picked from the quantities, to the quality of the harvest were inaccurate. It first started with a few items, that were mostly light, with the exception of Asparagus. We were harvesting about 220lbs a week, and it took a lot of time to have them prepped for market. This meant putting on the aesthetic finishes, trimming and making the asparagus look uniform and obedient with one another before banding them with rubber bands in half pound bunches. The rest was simply loading the truck, with low perishable products on board, like eggs, various cured squash, pop corn, last seasons bean harvest, and an Apple-pear cider concoction from 100 year old trees, (Incredible). However, now our market prep days are harvesting lettuce, herbs, asparagus, strawberries, raspberries, carrots, beets, spinach, chard, kale, and tree collards. The Asparagus has dropped off since to about 150lbs per week, and we end up selling 60 to 80lbs to restaurants in Vancouver, which requires additional prep on other days. In the coming weeks we will have tomatoes, cucumbers, basil, cilantro, melons, sweet potatoes, potatoes, peppers, artichokes, and French fillet beans. All while most of the other crops are still producing. I'm not sure if we have another gear to get all this done, but I imagine we will find our pace after a frustrating and tired couple of twelve plus hour days to develop and progress our pace.

Most of these crops are in need of a wash, or have to be banded in a certain way for retail sales, but others, like strawberries and raspberries for example are strictly forbidden from being washed because of their high perishability.

I'm not sure if I have been able to explain the effort and rush of getting everything harvested and prepped for market properly, so I'll try to give comparison. Imagine a pop up shop, be it for clothes, or a restaurant, or maybe an art showcase, or better yet a travelling exhibit. Everything essentially has to be perfect before you set up the shop the night before. Be it your display, products, the right amount of inventory, and various equipment. Nothing can look unappealing, you have to be vain. Nothing can be damaged, and there is a sequence of what needs to be put together first. In this case we have to pick all the cooked greens, and salad leaves first thing in the morning because they taste the best and look the healthiest. Once the sun lets out its full fury, the behaviour changes and these crops look and taste completely different. As you may guess, the most perishable are picked last, (strawberries, raspberries). If everything goes to plan,you load up your inventory on the truck and head down to town and set up your retail space. Settling up and prepping the retail space could take a lot of time for a pop up shop, depending on the type of shop, and complications of putting up your display. The farmers market, you have  two hours at best to make it presentable in a way that is appealing to the masses, and also creates an excitement, uniqueness, and an intrigue, in comparison to all the other vendors at the market. If all goes well you sell out, or make a lasting impression, enough to have return customers. Then you do it all over again, except it's twice a week for four months.

These market days are really hectic, and the frustration gets to another level, because of how Michael nit picks at things, which leads to delays. But that may not be a fair criticism, because this is his farm, and these are his products, and he also has been farming for fourty years, so my frustration is rather silly, but taking that step back, at times is hard, because I don't see what he sees. He certainly doesn't want to put out something shitty or half assed, and we all have to respect that, and understand the value Michael has created in his crops, as well as the professionalism he exudes, and expects to be maintained. Because if not, then what's the point? I doubt any of you would buy a weird looking tomato, or a salad leaf with a hole in it, which maybe is something to consider. That is pretty much what I get from the farm, and it's plentiful and delicious. Makes me wonder how much perfectly good food is wasted before it arrives to the grocery store for sale.

Change is good

I have not had one week here that has repeated itself. Constant adaptation, and a longing for a controlled uniformity is welcomed, but that will probably never happen here. Michael is always changing his mind, tweaking things here and there, or outright setting up for a course of action and then altogether scrapping the whole thing for some other idea. I'm probably not use to so much change, and it's certainly gotten to me. The moment you get a grasp on something, it's often too late, and you have to move on to something else. It's "doing it right the first time", as Michael says, has been the most difficult adjustment, of which, I don't think I have, as of yet. There is also various other factors that I was not in tune with, such as weather, soil moisture, plant health, irrigation, tool usage, etc that lead to a lot of unexpected changes where quick reaction is very much needed. But I think these changes have improved my observation and brain function. Synapses are firing that never have before, unlike the time wasted on mind numbing Internet and social media things like Facebook, and articles from some lame site using big bold words to get your attention to read some silly underwhelming top ten list. The failure from all this has been a blessing, and often I have to step back to see the importance in it and embrace the lesson I have learned, rather than letting the frustration consume me. It also seems like repetitive cycle these last couple years. Am I repeating the same lessons only in a different scenario? Does it even matter to think and focus on these things, that now seem minor? If so, then why? I'm not sure, but I know that there always comes a disconnect whenever I plan, and take on an endeavour. Whether it be with my purposeful intentions, or my approach towards that path of least resistance, or to just be and maintain my discipline.

With all this said, I have learned so much on how to take care and raise healthy annual crops, which I'm grateful for, but I don't like growing annual crops in an intensive manner. It's like glorified gardening, with the exception that you put way more labour into it, and are essentially raising spoiled brats. A far cry from perennial systems, which initially you tend to quite a bit, but then the inputs become less, it produces a bountiful yield every year, the soil improves, because of no tilling, and you can grow old with it. With annuals you have to make efforts to restore the land and sequester all the carbon you release once you pull out the plant after harvest, or else you start to deplete your soil. You also have to till the soil before you plant, which is one of the worst things you can do to the environment and all its climate change issues. So there is a lot of work both before and after. This realization has led me to understand, how much we are all part of this climate change problem. We all like tomatoes and potatoes, and salad greens, but we don't all buy from a farmer like Michael. We also don't look to other forms or nutrition that probably grow in your backyard, or look to grow your own food, which will certainly ease the burden. Michael's food is also expensive, and has to be because he is a small holder farmer, that gets no handouts from the government, unlike a multinational corporation. Instead you look to a cheaper option, of which you probably have no idea who is growing your food (large multinational corporation), and what there farming practices are about. Do they care about restoring the land or do they just care about yield? I will go into this much more further in the next post on what is intensive organic farming.

I knew farming wasn't easy, but as what happened the first night when we had dinner with Michael, I got caught up in the romance, excitement, trendiness and folklore of being a farmer. Now more than ever farmers are getting lots of recognition and some are nearing celebrity status, close to that of famous chefs. Michelin star restaurants promote fruits and veggies purchased from specific farms and mention the farmer responsible for growing the crop. Michael is an example of that. A famous restaurant named Chez Panisse in California use to serve an Algerian tangerine that Michael use to grow when he was farming in California, by itself, on a plate. That was it, no pastry, sorbet, or reduction, just the tangerine, and you even had to peel it yourself! The wait staff would mention who grew it and what farm it came from. Imagine dishing out a couple hundred dollars for a Michelin star meal only to get a tangerine unpeeled for dessert. Better have been a damn good tangerine Michael! I think it probably was, but would I pay that much, probably never. But I get the point Chez Panisse was making, and having tasted the fruits and veggies grown at the farm, I see the difference in taste and quality. The raspberries here are sweet, with a little tang and have a cotton candy after taste. The strawberries are so sweet and juicy they disintegrate in your mouth as soon as you bite into it, in the most pleasant way possible. The asparagus tastes sweet, tangy, and a bit nutty when fresh picked, but roasted, the complexities change to a savoury consistency. Add some sage and olive oil and it brings about an intense umami flavour of crispy fried chicken skin. This only happens because of how this food is grown. Nothing can compare to food grown with the ethics and love that a farmer like Michael puts in. Most food sold at a grocery store, even if it is organic, isn't grown the way Michael does it, and that, you can taste the difference. I realize I went off on a bit of a foodie orgasm, and food snob rant, but things like this is what high end chefs look for, and with that it adds to the grandeur, folklore and legend of present day farmers. This is important because it spreads awareness on ethical, and proper food growing, but romancing and thinking growing food organically is how food will taste better, has a lot more challenges than you think. It's labour intensive, technical, complicated and confusing, and asks for an observant and inquisitive presence. But observing Michael and how he works, asks for perfect execution, stubbornness, some passive aggressive behaviour, and efficiency. Like a chef barking orders, but in a much more toned down manner.  Now I'm not saying Michael is an asshole, because I have the utmost respect for him, and he is a kind and empathetic man who also is a very compassionate person. Rarely do you meet individuals such as him. However those qualities that make Michael the farmer he is, although very respectable, I do not possess, nor do I kind of want to, because it just isn't me. I feel I can deliver a product like it without having to do it that way, probably not on my first attempt, but with patience and time, I am confident I will know how to. But then again what do I know, and the season is only two and half months in from its seven month length, and I'm sure a lot more change is to follow all around me, and maybe in me.

It's always a good sense of comfort when you travel to a place you have never been to but are met with familiar people in your life. It certainly makes way for an easier transition to new surroundings. I was lucky enough to start this trip on a sort of rapid sight seeing tour of both Calgary and Vancouver before I took the ferry across to salt spring island. I was in each city for one night and made the most of it considering the circumstances.

met first in Calgary by my good pal Jeff, who was an old co worker with me, back when I worked in the dungeon they call an office. Jeff picked me up from the airport with his little dog and we took a quick tour of Calgary, followed by a trip out to Canmore, which is just outside Calgary, the day after. We hiked a nice trail, and checked out some smaller mountains. It was great being out in the mountains, something I have never seen or been to, and it was beautiful as it was grand. There was as well a huge waterfall that water trickled through ice and rock into some ponds. The ponds had this amazing bluish hue, aNd I swear I could look at that water for hours  wether it be on a rock or by the edge of the pond and be at peace. It was great introduction to Western Canada. Thanks pal.

Next up I took a bus to Jasper, and had the chance to spend eight hours in Jasper because I had to wait for my train. Jasper is unreal. Huge arboreal forests everywhere, along with gigantic mountains overlooking the valley that Jasper sits on.  When I first witnessed the magnitude of these Canadian Rockies I thought how remarkable this is! And then I thought, how remarkable the world is! And then I thought, I need to see much more of this remarkablness soon, because who knows if and when the world we live in, goes to shit. Because of the pervious days hike, I decided to keep the trend and head on my own hike. I walked not two minutes outside the Jasper strip and found a few trails. I opted to keep close to  the town and took a trail right by the rail road, which was quite easy to follow. I drifted off the path into the forest to see what was around, and came across some sort of animal droppings. The first thing I thought was, what if there is a bear around, I mean the shit looked pretty fresh. It was these little tiny shit balls all over the place, and then I was like, do bears shit tiny balls? But I continued walking and took a few pics. With the railroad still in view, I went deeper into the brush. Then I heard some leaves rustling and twigs breaking, so I stopped to look around me, and there was nothing. Little did I know, right in front of me, about 15 feet away, was a couple of deer. As I was about to walk, I noticed a frozen and shocked deer looking at me. We both stared at each other with intense stressful stillness? After my initial shock and only realizing its a deer who is much more afraid of me than I should be of it, I thought about the SNL Robert Goulet skecth. I had a chuckle to myself said hello to the deer and went left, only to realize the second much bigger deer was closer. I heard all kinds of commotion and thought the deer was charging at me. I had no conception of reality, just scared shitless, not even tiny shit balls. There I was frozen for like three seconds not knowing how to react, except by the time I realized that I needed to react, both deer were gone. A few huge sighs of release, and I chuckled to myself, and said "Goulet! you always win". For those of you that don't get the Goulet reference, well....I'm not going to explain it. With that whole confrontation with nature, I moved on to a more practical form of low budget tourism rituals and headed back to town, to relax and grab some bites for the 20 hour train ride.

I boarded the train, got a seat, and was surprised how comfortable this trip was going to be. All kinds of leg room, the seat reclines almost into a bed, and best of all, nobody beside me.

The train departed at 2pm, and we had about 7 hours of mountain viewing time before the sun set. The train also had this cool lounge that had a glass roof, which gave a panoramic view of the landscape and a view of the train snaking left and right as it passed through the various forests and mountains.

These pics explain very little of this luxurious grand experience. The magnitude that the eye can project and the surprising amount of wonder you witness, the camera can never quite capture. This  was a voyage that helped to subtract, distract and rid the novel, vain trends we tread upon.

Arriving in Vancouver, I was met by the teenage homie Carson, who I met in Costa Rica a little over a year ago in March. Carson  showed me equally amazing hospitality and drove down to Vancouver from nearby Squamish, to pick me up from the rail station, and had prepared some comfortable accommodations  for my one night.

 Family

 Seeing my family at the airport was a happy moment but a really familiar one. I was also surprised by my good friend Mikey Spices at the airport, who also came to see me off when I was leaving for Cost Rica, and he felt it correct to be there on my return. It was a great first impression on coming back, and I felt a little cherished. Settling back home was easy. It was like nothing really changed. My brother doing his work thing, and my mother doing her retired thing, and although my dad was not there initially, when he arrived it felt the same. You get the usual feelings of comfort, and annoyance of being with your family. It was the easiest of transitions, and I was around the most supportive people I have ever had in my life. I tried to help out as best I could, by cooking dinners, and trying to incorporate homemade dairy kefir, pickled vegetables and sourdough bread to the family diet. Besides my mom bugging me here and there, and telling me about getting the garden going, no one was really all that enthusiastic about it. But still that support was there for me to try things I learned in Costa Rica. I also missed me moms cooking. Curries, and pol roti was the first meal, and boy was it great!

 Friends

 The first meet up with friends felt like a necessity I needed a social injection that only my closest friends can give. The first night I arrived, I met up with my friend Carlos who works with my brother. We got's to chatting and hung out for a bit. He found my hair to look hilarious and told me he had to take a picture of this and after it was taken, proceeded to send it to a couple of my close friends, who of course respond with laughter, and comments. "If supercat and Einstein had a baby, this would be Shea", followed by pics of Richard Simmons smiling wearing a whole bunch of spandex outfits. I was LMAO when I saw that as well, because the resemblance was there. I realized there would be a lot of this to come when I caught up with the rest of them. Mostly stuff like, look at your hair! followed by people touching my hair. But it was great to be around that familiarity, and being able to laugh at myself like that. The next occasion I met my friends would be downtown, and I went out for dinner and to a bar after where the homy DJ Linx was spinning. This was when it started to get a little difficult. Everyone was asking me how Cost Rica was, how my experience was. It was a difficult thing to answer because so much had happened, so I just said "it was great, a life changing experience." It was such a generic question, and in no way was I going to remember all details of it, so a generic question deserved a generic answer. It was also a bit of an overly stimulating night. There was a lot of people, and a lot of women there. I was like whoa women wearing haute couture!!! Now remember, I was living in a town of about 100 people, in the middle of the jungle. At least half those people were men, and out of half those women, a good chunk were old, and a good chunk were not even teenagers yet, and the rest were most likely taken, or had a complicated situation that I didn't care to be a part of.

But getting back to my friends, it seemed nothing had really changed, and I feel like I may have behaved the same way that they did had I not had this experience. The rage was all about 4k TV's, the jays, the raps, and Uber. Most of which I didn't really care for. I love the raptors and jays, but even that was not that interesting of a talking point. But I also realized, there was no way I was going to ease into this the way I eased into coming home to my family. Trends change in a modern first world city, like how the jungle changes, and this was a place I left only to comeback to a version that had some familiarity but was in the middle of going through changes, and I accepted that right away. I also realized being in a bar was a very difficult way of connecting to people, and the best way to connect, was to hang out at friends houses and talk. My first meet up with my buddy Harry, helped me better understood how to translate my experiences and where my headspace was at. Harry asked me specific questions. Nothing elaborate, quite simple actually, but the simplicity of his questions gave a more in depth scope of how I was living. Like did they have toilets there? What type of food did you eat, how were the bugs. I also realized after, the ones that make an effort to have me over, or meet up with me are the ones who will really understand what I was doing out there. The rest, it was hard at times even just to have small talk.

The love and admiration of seeing my friends again was something special, but something I don't think I will experience again, and I feel quite happy and content about it. I witnessed a lot of change, friends moving, or moved already to new locations in the city, the social life changes that came with the moves, and I guess age and the responsibilities that were shifting the paradigm of our relationships. Everyone was changing not just me.

 The City

 Living in Brampton is quite a drag. The suburbs suck. The fact that you need a car to get to most places is terrible. I kept saying disgruntled, how poor the design is of the suburbs. In Toronto, the big city, you have a great transit system, and you can walk quite easily to most essential and cosmetic things. But the more I lived in Brampton and worked, the more solitude and value I saw for what the suburbs are. Transit has improved a great deal in Brampton, and I quite enjoyed the stress free service that it is. You wait for your bus, it takes you to your destination, and you are oblivious to the stress of the roads. It's a much better than owning a car, paying for insurance, being stuck in traffic, maintaining your car, not to mention the pollution it causes, but I digress. Brampton also has libraries, walking trails, and some descent mom and pop restaurants. It was enough to tie me over before my next undertaking. The first thing I remembered when I was walking to a bus stop in Brampton was the cars. In Mastatal, I may see 10 cars the whole day, in Brampton I saw cars as far as the eye can see, and that's nothing new really. But it set off my wheels of observation. There was this huge sense of urgency in everywhere I looked. That's when the pace of the first world, globalization, industrialization, and all that jazz was right in front of me, and I felt a little lost, and cautious. I knew where I was going; I just couldn't adjust to the pace. Taking the bus to Toronto, felt like normal, but I guess being in a bus not worrying about the drive removed me from what was about to hit me next, which was people. There were so many people in Toronto. So Many! They were walking so fast, like they were chasing something, or being chased. This was when I felt I was in limbo. Caught between two worlds. The city was also not as pleasant as I remember. I went to Service Canada to get some stuff sorted out, and the people helping me at the desk were so short with me, and were agitated by me like I was incompetent. This ends up being a bit of over stimulation and a whole bunch of overreaction on my end. Toronto is a pleasant big city, maybe the most pleasant I have ever been to. People are still very polite, and what a lovely thing that is to be around polite people. It just took me a while to warm up to the city and its pace. However, I still saw a wasteful, over indulgent, vain and over consuming culture, something that I didn't care to be a part of, and most of all the opportunity was minimal and not worth my time for now. All I saw was productivity as being the utmost of importance and a severe uphill climb because of the massive obstacles capitalism blindsides you with. It would probably be something I see if I go to any big city.

On a side note, I arrived to Toronto a couple months after the Paris bombings, and there was a sort of fear I had instilled in me that I would be profiled. It was a bit of unsettling feeling.  I never ever thought of Toronto as a city like that, and to an extent I don't think it is, especially compared to every other city south of the Canadian border. But still, it somehow got to me in a fit of paranoia that others would look at me as a dangerous person because of my hair or the color of my skin. It was annoying that I felt that way, because of news reports and not because I was subjected to it. I realized how unfair the world can be to billions of innocent people.

 The adjustments

 I had exhausted almost all of my finances, due to some fraud in Costa Rica, albeit a blunder on my part. This was of a pressing concern for me, so I needed to find a temporary job to take care of my finances, as well as find a job for the upcoming growing season. I was already given a referral to work in a farm in Boston, and I was able to also score a few interviews for internships within Canada to my surprise, with relative ease, and was offered 3 positions, of which I ended up choosing a farm, which is a short ferry ride from Vancouver. Finding a temp job though, was a lot difficult. I worked at three different warehouses, because that was the quickest and easiest way to get employed. They were all soul sucking, productivity based, capitalism driven factory jobs. Each job I got laid off. My longest stint was three weeks, for a grand total of five weeks of employment at an amazing $12 an hour. What's funny about this is that, I actually didn't care that much about the money I was earning, and when I got laid off, I was extremely happy. I was able to read more books, cook and experiment with food, binge watch a little net flix and hang with friends. I realized how much money gets in the way of happiness, and with that said, I did the best to make the most of the little money I earned. I also got a descent tax return, and with that, was able to pay for my travel expenses and have some start up money for when I arrive to Vancouver for my next internship. For some reason it was so much easier to not spend money, and when I did, I didn't feel the least bit guilty or irresponsible. I noticed I only bought things I needed, and really only spent money on close friends, of whom, I either cooked dinners at their houses, or they would be treating me and taking me out. Thinking back these few months of all the ups and downs, I feel extremely blessed for the pain and pleasures I was given. They went hand in hand and really kept me in check to steady the course. A wisdom of which I can't explain, but I understand. I will also point out that I was living for free under my parent's roof, and that helped immensely, but regardless I have a much better idea of how to live happy.

 The differences

 I worked with a lot of doers in Costa Rica.

I came back to a lot of talkers. Talkers that do, to some extent, but not nearly as much as they talk. There were people that talk about things that didn't matter, and looked for validation in uselessness and nonsense, as well as glory rather than true virtues. Environment has a lot to do with it, and not to take away from my friends but what they talk about and complain about far outweighs the action they take on their problems. Sometimes the most trivial of things takes precedence over important things, like what Kanye said, or why snapchat is cool. In Costa Rica we talked as much as we did. It seemed much more balanced. This understanding makes me realize that this environment is not for me. An environment of distracting and mind numbing proportions, from social media applications, to memes, to watching the news, to the little adds you see when you do a google search. I can go on, but the point is, you are your environment, and this environment is something I don't want to readapt to. Just doesn't fit. I feel it is a little sick and stressed, maybe a lot more than a little sick.

  Closure

 The closure I got was not what I was expecting. I was expecting to see everyone be the same then I get sick of the rat race and realize I need to be elsewhere. I thought that I would be quite different, and maybe even alienate myself because I didn't want to partake in certain things. Instead, closure was realizing we are all moving on to new endeavors, and new experiments, but we are still somewhat thinking the same way. It's growing up maybe, and no one is looking back and holding on to things in the past because it's hard to duplicate something great and sometimes doing the same old thing gets stale.  I saw the necessity and it brought me a tremendous feeling of security. It was also realizing that sometimes close friends may not need to be in my life on a regular basis, and may be irrelevant at times presently, or in my future. These I believe are necessary subtractions that you need not worry or feel guilty about. Its part of the process and the expectations you need to follow, should mostly be your own, not what you think of how others should fare.  Just live with what feels right. Don't stunt or stress yourself by holding on to something that is not there anymore. Surround yourself with people that will contribute to your passions, goals, expectations and the balance you seek to have.

 Departure

Thoughts

Mastatal (the ugly)

There is something great and special about this place, but it too has had its vices. Small town living can have some ugly problems, like alcoholism, smart phones, and politics. I have seen guys blow there hard earned money at the bar in the hopes of getting it on with a gringa or just to drink away the pain of a life filled with drudgery. Half the time they are passed out by the afternoon in the bar or out in the street. What is sad about this is that this money most times is suppose to go back to their families, but instead gets wasted on alcohol. Some guys that get drunk here can't stop at one, and maybe after three drinks they are totally hammered and belligerent. I have seen it with a friend and was shocked and saddened at his state. Seems like going on a bender is at times a normal thing. One time I was on a bus about to leave Puriscal and there was a boy that was not claimed by any adult. The driver came to collect fares and could not find the father. Eventually the father showed up smiling and joking, saying sorry and paid for their fare. Once we left I realized this guy was drunk, and soon he started hitting on women. It was an uncomfortable and cringeworthy sight. Without any shame, he put his arm around women and smothered himself in their personal space. When asked about his son he laughed it off and gave his son a candy bar. Eventually he backed off and sobered up because of the 2 hour trip, but soon as we arrived in Mastatal, he ran to the bar to get a drink, and boarded back on the bus to where his end destination was. It was a tough sight to see an important lesson in not being an enabler. Gringos at the bar have a deep negative impact on the community, no I kept my bar appearances to a minimum. Smart phones, it's easy to understand the distracting and maybe destructive habits it creates, but being an observer without the capabilities of a data plan it seems even more evident in Mastatal. It's like a drug, and I have seen it diminish productivity, and quality of work, along with bringing a vanity to a place that it doesn't belong to. Like an invasive specie of some kind that is slowly destroying and changing the ecosystem with its plethora of apps, games, and social media platforms. Displacing the native characteristic from its environment to a path of illusion which eventually leads to a loss of culture and disappearing traditions. Not to mention it's an expensive type of novelty luxury item. The phone plans cost about the same as in Canada, except most people here earn about $3 an hour. Thus making it even more crippling financially as well as socially. Lastly politics. Progress is so hard to come by in a town of a hundred people when corruption is evident. The corruption is frustrating but the lack of of organizing skills from the citizens of the township is even more frustrating. Mastatal has been ruled by a woman named Ursula. (That is the ranch's name given to el presidente de Mastatal.) She was originally president of a nearby indegineous community  called Zapaton, where she was exiled for being corrupt. Now everyone knows this but still she manages to get voted in. She holds the keys to the community center, which she only opens when she "finds" the keys. People use to play basketball and have numerous other gatherings, but now all have to go through her. Seems when financial incentive for her is lacking, her civic duties fall short. Then there is the bizarre decision for infrastructure upgrades. She built a very small stretch of actual road from government funding, but stopped it close to her house. The stretch of road is about 150 meters, and is on a steep hill section, and is a couple km's away from the center of town where the primary traffic is. When there are elections, usually two or three people decide to run against her, which is good. But, the better decision would be to combine the efforts to one party and create a majority, instead the votes get divided, giving Ursula a majority. Now she is only allowed two terms but she has been successful in changing the rules to her benefit because paperwork for such things as electing a person to veto rule changes implemented by the president, goes missing. These are all major hindrances to progress, and it's difficult to demonstrate a different point of view, because certain things are just habitual. The change has to come from the younger generations, and at this point, it maybe two generations away from any change.

Mastatal (the bad)

Living in the Mastatal bubble has really helped to understand cultural influences as well as the impact of outside influence. I came across an instance for both that reflect a negative as well lame and petty reasoning for the way things are. Somethings here may be great I think for a Wes Anderson movie. Near the end of October we decided to have a pizza night for the staff, and some friends of the ranch. Chepo and most of his family are employed by the ranch, so Chepo and his family, the cleaning staff, and Juan Luis and Jorge were to all attend. Instead everyone but chepo, his wife and son showed up. They asked that the pizza be delivered to them. This was strange behaviour by chepo and I'm thinking who does this guy think he is. We later find out that there is a type of territorial protection here. Juan Luis is not technically ranch family, and according to Chepo should not have attended. When we sat down and discussed this it seemed like something out of a western. "Hey there Juan Luis, what you doin round here. This here is my ranch, they all are my gringos. Get your chocolate harvesting ass outta here." Meanwhile Juan Louis is laughing his ass off, eating pizza and taking back wine. It was certainly a strange stance to take. But I get it, employment is scarce and you protect your job the best way you can, and end up becoming territorial. It's kind of like that all over Mastatal, but still very strange. Another strange thing I observed was when Chepo's son junior received building materials for his house. There were 300 cinder blocks, 50kg bags of concrete, and other building materials delivered by a dump truck. No one in his family helped. It was only myself and juniors step son, while everyone else watched. Later I found out it was because junior never helped anyone when they were building their homes and is apparently quite a lazy fellow. I guess in a way it was taking a stance and forcing junior to get his act together with some tough love. Lastly and maybe one of the most important things I learned was about helping too much, or unnecessarily. There are certain things you can do that helps the economy of a small town or family, by offering employment, but say you decide to be a good person, and offer to help fix a house, or paint a mural, or promote a business, all these things get taken for granted by some ticos. It gives them the idea that, gringos will do that for us, and reliance on their own self sufficiency falls on the wayside. It's a huge drawback here. Many people come here with enthusiasm and energy to do all they can to help this community but don't realize that they can be taken advantage of as well as giving the idea to tico's, that tico problems can be always solved by gringos. It's tough to figure out at times. When is your help beneficial and when are you not realizing the damage of your charity. Not to say that this whole community is like that, because it isn't. The good folks at la iguana chocolate are great examples of self sufficient success. Jorge makes a great effort to be an active member in the community and a virtuous farmer. Always researching, getting involved with cacao festivals, permaculture groups, and working with the ranch. I have never seen him ask for anything, and naturally you want to help him because of the effort he is putting out. An example of the bad, a ranch apprentice decided that she will take initiative and paint a mural for the soda and help it to give some colour and a sign out front to promote the existence of the diner. This in a way is good, but bad because the owners are more than capable of taking the initiative to put something together to promote the soda for all tourists to see. Instead The moment The apprentice asked, the comfort and convenience courtesy of gringos was better, than them coming up with their own idea and vision for a mural. It also takes away some authenticity because mandalas I don't think are part of Tico culture, rather more hippy culture.

Mastatal (the good)

One of the ranch's chefs, kattia invited me to her place for dinner. She was making pinchos, or, as we call it, kebabs. It was one of my most fond memories, and I saw a different, funny and relaxed side of Tico culture. Kattia rents a room in her house to one of the teachers in Mastatal. The teacher, Alfredo, happens to teach her 16 year old son Ion. She invited her sister, myself, another teacher, Ion's friend Joseph and the owner of the bar, Seco. I witnessed two teachers joking with their students. Student pretending to hump teacher from behind and play with his head, while other teacher laughs. Alfredo is a massive man with a huge belly. That night he was shirtless, and Joseph being a delinquent little shit poured coke down Alfredo's bum crack. It was hilarious. He also started pulling Alfredo's chest hair. For his revenge, Alfredo gives Joseph the middle finger and proceeds to stab him with kebab skewer in Joseph's nuts. A whole bunch of, "AY Puta! "Mireda!" Was being yelled between the two, but it was all in good fun. I don't think I have ever seen this interaction between student and teacher. It was hilarious, and cool. Then we started discussing gringo baby names, because Kattia’s sister Ania is pregnant. That in itself was funny. Alfredo kept saying with a serious face "Adrien, muy bonito nombre, enserio." All this fun was taking place on Kattia’s porch. Alfredo and Ania on the blue ceramic floor drinking coke, while Joseph shit disturbs from a hammock and the rest of us giving our two cents. It was simple but so enjoyable. Doing the simple things, like taking a walk, sitting on a porch and watching things are some of the most virtuous things taken for granted here. The more I did those small things the more I enjoyed. It was a sort of coming back to the now. The town itself at first seems like it has nothing, but in actuality it's never ending, with all the water ways, plant and animal life, sunrise and sunsets, the incredible downpours, and the soundtrack the jungle provides. There are micro climates throughout the area, because of the jungle and mountains. Unknowingly I would be walking through a cloud at times. The best was when I was walking at dawn, and it looked real dark and foggy, all of a sudden a few rays of light from the sun pierce through the haze and the branches and warm my cheek. I look at the ray and see little white things moving into the ray and back out into hazy invisibility. I look into the valley and see an assortment of colours. Greens, yellows, oranges, pinks and reds. Some parts of the valley look like I'm witnessing sepia in the present because of the cloud, and sun combination. Words can't do it justice, and maybe not even a picture.

Cacao orchard. 

The good folks at La Iguana Chocolate Juan Luis and his son Jorge own the most prized land in Mastatal. The soil their land sits on is the most healthy rich and famous in the region. Where as the rest of Mastatal is filled with clay. They have also been practicing cacao farming, without pesticides, insecticides, or GMO products for decades. Probably the only farmers with the exception of the ranch in the area to do so. All the design principles  I learned in the permaculture design course, are best demonstrated on their land. Not to mention their orchard is beautiful. Something out of a fairy tale. Rolling hills with rich dark soils, and abundant alleys of cacao trees. The cacao grows everywhere on the tree, the branches, trunk, buttress, and the various sizes and colours are incredible to view. Footballs with deep yellows and oranges, or vibrant purples with defined lines of green, and some have hints of red. A fascinating place, and one of my favourite places in Costa Rica.

Kids playing on the streets. I can't remember the last time I saw that in Canada. Children are actually doing child like things. Playing soccer, hide and seek, climbing trees, laughing at my hair. Quite awesome to see and be around that. Refreshing.

Healing.

Putting broken ingredients in my body the last twenty years. This past year, 90% of what I ate was a whole food. Repairing some of the damage.

There was a time period when I was proper sick and dehydrated on and off for about three months. Robin asked to go see Chepo to see if I have a pega. If I do, Chepo can treat me. With one look Chepo said, you have them. Apparently my lymphatic system was clogged, and to unclog and allow the flow, Chepo rubbed my arms using coconut oil and two of his fingers. Starting from the shoulder to my elbow, he would rub it until a whole bunch of balls appeared under my skin. It was bizarre and grotesque to say the least. Chepo started pressing on the balls and pushing them down passed my elbow to my hand. It started to get a little painful, and then more balls showed up. Finally he pushed them down to the web of my hand between the thumb and the index finger, and squished them until they were gone. That was the most painful part. He then proceeded to give me Alka seltzer to help me to not vomit and sent me off. I felt better about twenty minutes later. It was remarkable that this unheard cultural method healed me. I had seven balls all in all. Four on the left, and three on the right arm. Made me realize the importance of endangered indigenous ways, as well as why rural communities are important. Things like this are what keep them resilient and moving forward.

The mountain at the cork. Some days clear and magnificent, other days hazy and barely visible because of the cloud cover, other days completely covered and almost non existent, vanished by magic. But somehow finds its way back to its strong magnificence. Just like life. Observing the ever changing mountain from the cork has told me that, you will have all types of days, but realize the clear days will be short lived, but appreciate the beauty of the problem when things are not clear, because you can find the path to move through to clarity, or somehow it will just show up as long as you are persistent.

Moments of profound, euphoric feeling. Waking up to the first rays of the sun in my open room, and how it felt like the most comfortable way of opening my eyes. It felt light, and smooth, and natural. Sometimes a huge hummingbird will be buzzing above my room, and opening my eyes to its presence was not startling or scary, but amazing and energizing. It just looked at me like, "do those nostrils have some  shit I can pollinate?" Once assessed to have of no value to its sustenance it would buzz off to something more worth while. It was better than smelling coffee, waking up for Christmas morning as a kid, getting ready to go to on a vacation with friends. The feeling of what just happened, did that happen, this thing floating and moving at a speed that my eyes can't comprehend for its movements, was magical. You can't help but feel great. All this from a humming bird. Then at times i would walk to do my life skill and consider where I am, and how empowered I feel for what I am learning, and somewhat vain for where I am learning. Feeling grateful, blissful, like I hit the lottery. Nothing could deter me on those days. But there are other days, that all the foresight in the world just can't prepare you for. Living in community is like learning to live with a family all over again. Going through the motions of adjusting, understanding, and balancing. It's nothing like living with my parents and brother. It's totally different, this new family. No familiar background, no familiar habits, no familiar expectations. All are giant question marks. Then life throws you emotional and mental obstacles. Never mind learning to live with people, dealing with despair, helplessness, sadness, breaks you down to another depth you thought never existed. A frontier you don't like or didn't expect to explore. You think you have an idea, then you arrive at it and are just lost. I am not talking about myself, but my family members. Mental health issues, to natural disasters, to health issues. Things you just can't plan for. It's so bitter, makes you keep taking deep breadths, to give you some temporary pointless relief. Confusion, and helplessness consume your mind, and it's hard to put things into perspective. Sometimes it can, other times, the time lost feels like too much. There was an apprentice that went home due to depression, an apprentice who lost a parent to depression, another who went back due to a horrible health complication, and another because of a tornado, as well as family matters. Vital parts to the engine, that decrease and change the whole because the some of its parts are no longer there. Constant adaptation like the entity that is the jungle. It's taxing on the soul, and brings a different type of weakness. But I guess I am stronger for it...I don't know? A weird energy compared to the first six months, and maybe the toughest learning curve, of which I'm not sure what I absorbed or know how to go about in the future. A different type of what just happened. This is all from relatively first world people, what unimaginable atrocities happen else where? Answers I do not know, but for some reason, the motivation remains to empower, the land, animals, people, and my own soul.

Realization.

My first 6 months apart from my dehydration and ringworm felt like a vacation. Vacation gives you a brief feeling of what life should be. I was working and loving it, as well living. But other things happen and you have to adjust, sometimes it's letting go, or grabbing a hold, sometimes it's keeping the course, sometimes it's taking a step or two back so you can leap forward. The paradigm of living in a capitalist world, and only sort of feeling like you are living when you take a vacation, then coming here where it is the opposite. You feel like you are living everyday, doing something purposeful, acquiring relevant and purposeful skills for living. But the drudgery of the hard work does catch up to you, and your in need of a vacation, the kind you want from a capitalist world, where you don't care about the money you are spending until after the fact, and you just want to relax and indulge. Maybe because I have been conditioned all my life this way that I have to resort to it, like it's an addiction you can't escape, and you need a hit.

Facts.

Mastatal is named after the Mastate tree, which has healing properties courtesy of its rich milky sap. It's also a very delicious sap. Like a great milk alternative.

Costa Rica is the largest user per capita in the world for pesticides, herbicides, insecticides and fertilizer.

Bananas are part of the herb family. It ain't a tree.

Miracle berries are incredible but over rated. You eat it and for half hour everything sour and bitter is sweet. Quite incredible at first then the feeling of huge amounts of aspartame have been shoved down your throat. Natures novelty maybe.

The ranch spends $240 on gas to cook 22000 meals a year. Incredible.

Seco is a local who owns the local bar, but the irony is that his name means dry in Spanish.

Everyone knows your business. Gossip cannot be escaped in this place. Here-say is a great way to bring about truths in people and situations. Also can be disastrous, and incorrect.

I saw grasshoppers the size of my hand.

I learned how to use a chain saw and also felled quite a few trees. It's easier than it looks. Also got a chance to learn a new profession and worked with two arborist’s, who cut and fell trees by climbing them and using pulleys and ropes to have a more controlled and safe fell.

Other random things.

Hammock time. I need to get a hammock when I get back.

Sensitive people, useless people, hypocrites. They got'em all here.

I stabbed myself with a machete when I was working at the cacao orchards at la iguana chocolate.

The gringos loved getting naked. I saw a lot of naked white people, who then convinced me to get naked for the ranch's tasteful nude calendar.

Harvesting and Processing

Working on the food side of things at the ranch, we would harvest and process food usually about once, maybe twice a week. There's is quite a bit to harvest, albeit, not as abundant, but nonetheless enough to get an idea of the effort, processes and attention that some tropical crops need before consumption, as well as what harvesting and food processing consist of on the daily grind.

Currently at the ranch we have 2 annual starches that are planted in various places throughout the property. Yuca or cassava (a starchy root), and malanga (which is reminiscent of taro root). Both are delicious fried, of course, but can be made made into other dishes, like tapioca, tortilla de yuca (shoutout to HA & Ecuador) or a savoury malanga mash, and malanga chips. Other forms of high calorie crops come from the jackfruit. This tropical crop is a perennial and can get huge. You can eat it unripe, and make it into an epic curry (like Corinne, me mom, when she visited), or a pulled pork substitute. If harvested ripe, it has a similar flavour to juicy fruit gum, which is where the chewing gum gets it flavour. I have also had stuffed cupcakes with jackfruit inside that are delicious. There are many more tree crops that are on their way to producing, like bread fruit, Tahitian chestnut, durian, marang, and guanabana, but at the moment, these crops are the staples. The aforementioned items Usually take a bit of time for processing. The yuca has to be peeled and boiled, or put in for water soaking for about 4 hours to remove cyanid that is stored initially in the root. It also has about a 24 to 48 hour period where it needs to be processed before nature takes over and spoils it for consumption. The yuca you may have purchased in grocery stores, have a wax coating which allows the root to last longer. But at the ranch it is fresh picked, processed and cooked within 48 hours. Same goes for the malanga, which makes me wonder how amazing soil is. It's a natural preserver to an extent, but as soon as the crop is severed from its environment it's on the clock. The jackfruit is one of the heaviest fruits in the world, and it's a bit of a tricky and messy item to process because of the latex that it releases that goes all over your knife and hands. So necessary precautions are needed for processing, such as oiling your knife and your hands, so it is easier for the latex to come off when you are washing up. Then there are a plethora of citrus fruits from oranges, to lemons, limes and other forms of citrus I have never seen before. We also harvest, pineapples, mangos, soncolla, and rambutan. If only you knew how amazing all these fruits taste. The soncolla is like a mix between a banana, and a mango, but not quite. It's probably pointless to describe the flavour cause it is so unique and incredibly tasty. Lastly there is a fair group of herbs and rhizomes grown on various raised beds in the ranch, from turmeric, ginger, to basil, curry leaf, oregano, chives, parsley and lemon grass to name a few.

Obviously this sounds very boring, a snore of a read, but harvesting and processing after has a wonderful satisfaction to it. From being out in nature and in amongst a forest of food to conversations with your community members.

There is something deeply connecting about harvesting fruit from a food forest. Walking through the forest floor, observing, and listening to what the trees tell you is something calming, yet challenging, and altogether rewarding. It's something I haven't figured out yet, but from time to time I get insights. Observing when the tree begins to bear fruit, and seeing the progress as it grows, the changes in colours, it's amazing in someways and the process of waiting is a discipline both rewarding as well frustrating, especially if you harvest it at the wrong time. But the most gratifying thing is being part of the circle of life and knowing your role, or rather discovering your role as a facilitator to the trees and plants, as well as a care taker.

Harvesting can be a solitary joy as well as a pleasant time with a partner. Getting lost in thought, coming up with ideas, or just simply performing the act without any thoughts and realizing what is around you and how amazing it is, has great gratification. It's also just nice to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and although I miss it at times, the appreciation and value I have realized and taken from this experience has given me a better connection to myself and this world. I'm no longer adding or contributing as much to the problems of our environment. I also get the benefits of no ads or billboards, or sensory overload from tv, computers and cellphones; nothing distracting, just life, and an idea and feeling of being self sufficient on my own without having a corporation making my food, you might even say pura vida.

The social standpoint from working with a partner, brings about, great stories, new discoveries of things and stuff, as well as about myself. Numerous times I was asked questions about my past that brought upon memories that I had almost forgotten about. Even some of my past memories I sometimes overlooked as nothing great, but the realizations of what others think, whether good or bad can bring about new insights and thoughts never once considered. Then there is the problem solving aspect. How do you get fruit from a tree 30 feet tall? Figuring out these little things, and getting a descent haul of food is gratifying. Like I really earned it, and deserve this nutritious whole food. Even digging out ginger or turmeric from the ground. Feels awesome. They say, (who ever they are), that endorphins are released when you put your hands in soil. Maybe it has something to do with the microbial culture in the soil.

After harvesting, it's time to process and prepare for cooking or consumption. Most of these tasks seem quite mundane, filled with monotony. Like sorting beans, where you just grab a handful and separate some damaged and not so bean looking beans, or cracking nuts from Sachi inchi pods, cutting katuk leaves for salad, or preparing veggies for a pickling brine. But there is a great feeling of unity when processing together. It's very relaxed. And often time filled with jokes, great stories and support. It's a great positive attribute to community living. There is even problem solving when we sit down and process food. One time we were trying to make coconut milk, but none of us have taken out the husk of a coconut to get to the actual shell holding the good stuff. I was a little embarrassed that I organized the work party and had no clue how to get the coconut flesh separated efficiently. So a couple apprentices first started to cut the husk with a knife which took forever. Finally we just used a hatchet and bashed it silly, until chunks of white flesh were flying everywhere. It wasn't the best way, it wasn't pretty, it was a little crude, and you might say amateur, but we made it, and the coconut milk used for our meals were amazing.

Fermentation

Fermentation. Something I thought mostly associated with poison and bad health. Oh man that's fermenting with mold and shit...so gross. But, I did know that all alcoholic beverages and certain baked goods had fermentation associated with it; and to an extent thought that alcohol was something, we as humans, had been able to manipulate for our pleasure and indulgences. A form of temporary poison you can say. Little did I know that, most things you buy at a grocery store are fermented, from condiments to sauces, to cheese, bread, cured meats, pickled vegetables, coffee, tea, kimchi, miso, yogurt, wine, the list was never ending. Majority of food That you buy goes through a fermentation process, and delving deeper, I realized what a fascinating never ending world it was. It was everything. It's maybe an understanding into life, harmony, giving and taking, enriching. It's how it is. So bloody profound, and it's everywhere, we can't escape it and we are trying really hard to dominate it, but it's way older than us. In fact it is us. My mind was blown when I found out that we are only 10% human, and 90% microbial. All these little things that we can't see, doing there part for us to function. But for now I'll just stick to the various delectable treats that are created at the ranch courtesy of fermentation.

Brined veggies, cheese, dairy kefir, dosas, pop or soda, hooch (ranch alcohol), and various vinegars. I learned how to make all of these at the ranch by using the method of fermentation. All of the aforementioned were month long food skills, that we were responsible  for, and required us to put out a product on a somewhat time sensitive manner. The month gave us plenty of practice to develop the discipline and add our own creativity. At times it seemed a monotonous task, and if you were not disciplined at the discipline you were working on, chances are it could have been a lot better. For the most part I loved it! It was only making the balm, or the soda, that I didn't care too much for, and thought it to kind of be annoying messy, and not that tasty. I also probably had a lack of focus. Looking back I wish I used my time on balm more effectively, because some of the new group of apprentices made great flavourful batches, like tarragon lemon soda, or lemon grass ice tea. Some of the best effervescent soft drinks I have had, and all healthy and great for me.

But I guess the more important thing is, why ferment? Seems complicated, and you might say a bizarre way to make food. But it's actually quite simple, and very nutritious for you, not to mention that most of the labour is done by little creatures you can't see. All you have to do is set the stage. There are three types of cultures you can use. Wild cultures, cultures created  in a lab, and a sort of domesticated culture that has properties of a wild culture, but can be controlled in a domestic way.

A wild culture is everywhere, it's on our skin, in the air, in our food, but can't be seen, or quantified, but there is an understanding of how to use it, and it is the strongest of the three due to its diversity and the various microbes working together. A great example of wild yeasts in action is the process of making sourdough bread. Sourdough bread requires a starter. You simply start a solution of flour and water and leave it for a few days to cultivate the wild yeasts. Every now and then you feed it by adding some flour and water to maintain the starter and when you are ready to create the bread the starter will be frothy and billowy. No need for adding a yeast packet, just use natures yeast. At the ranch we primarily use wild cultures to brine our vegetables, like carrots, chayote, jalapeños, and cucumbers, or make a batter for dosas. The processes for these are quite simple. The veggies get put in a salt water solution with various layers of flavouring by way of herbs. Make sure they are submerged in the salt solution, then let the microbes do their work, and in two to three days you have delicious nutritious pickled vegetables. For the dosas, we soak the rice and beans for about a day to start the ferment then combine them and grind it into a paste of sorts and add some dairy kefir and let ferment for another day. It might not be the south Asian way but the results are close, especially if flavoured correctly with herbs and spices.

As for man made yeasts, humans have been able to isolate certain yeasts such as saccharomyces cerevisiae. In the absence of oxygen this yeast is very successful at converting sugars from wine grapes into alcohol and carbon dioxide through fermentation. The ranch uses manufactured packets of wine yeast to make there alcohol, called hooch. It is a very simple recipe and it can creep up on you quick. Usually has about 6 to 10% alcohol. The hooch is made from organic concentrated sugar cane pucks called tapa dulce, water, and the yeast pack. The only knock on hooch is that you never know what flavour you will get. It could be delicious or horrible. Only because, we never know the exact quantity of tapa we are using because the pucks vary in size, and also because of the constant change in temperature and pressure where we live. At least that's my theory. The yeasts in the packet have been selected for a specific purpose, and it is able to do its job effectively for one batch, but is of no use after. It's the draw backs of artificial selection. These yeasts can be purchased for bread, and wine making, but are manufactured for one purpose and therefore are effective for one thing but quite weak and very limited.

The domesticated culture I mentioned earlier is an interesting thing. No  one knows exactly where these cultures came from, but they have essentially been passed down from numerous generations of farmers, tribes, and traders for the purpose of fermenting food. What's unique is that it has resilient qualities like the wild yeasts, but are quantifiable, visible, and grow in front of your eyes, if you chose to spend a few days or put a time lapse video to watch it ferment. The ranch has two types of these cultures, water kefir, and dairy kefir. We use them both. The water kefir to make our effervescent soda, and the dairy kefir to make a type of yogurt/Kurd type product. With the water kefir, for it to excel, it is basically fed tapa dulce. An equal amount of tapa dulce to kefir followed by water. After a couple days, another splash of tapa and we get an effervescent soft drink, that can be flavoured with many possibilities. My favourite was a terragon lemon concoction, and a lemon grass tea flavouring.

Only recently has the microbial world been studied more in depth as a scientific frontier, where as first it was a practice for food preservation, and food transformation; afterwards a discovery and new philosophy led by Louis Pasteur arrived, and with it came the dark ages for the microbes where the war against microbial communities in food and our bodies started, followed by more scientific discovery and wonder. Although there is more clarity on the benefits, and the understanding of microbes, there is still lots of confusion, and fear.

I read two books that gave me a great understanding on fermentation and the microbial community, wild fermentation by Sandor Katz, and Cooked by Michael Pollan. I will try my best to compress what I learned and bring about the main points. Fermentation is kind of like a primary stomach for us. It not only preserves food and nutrients but breaks them down into more easily digestible forms. The health benefits of eating fermented foods have many positives. Ferments can unlock nutrients that are normally inactive like B vitamins, including folic acid, riboflavin, niacin, thiamin, and biotin. Some ferments act as antioxidants, and Fermenting certain foods before cooking  can neutralize certain acids like photic acid, which block absorption of important minerals like zinc, iron, calcium, and magnesium to name a few. Sauerkraut has proven to boost immune system, and be a deterrent to scurvy. Captain Cook did his second round the world voyage, and brought 60 barrels of kraut which lasted 27 months and not one of his crew members developed scurvy. Fermented foods can improve digestive function by enriching the gut biota, a vast community of organisms (bacteria, fungi, archaea, viruses and Protozoa) in your stomach. Having a diverse gut biota can help pathogenic strains like E. Coli from breaching the gut wall. Maintaining the health and integrity of the gut wall is one of the most valuable services gut bacteria provide. Eating unpasteurized fermented foods can help to strengthen and diversify your stomach. Our gut biota can improve our physical and possibly also our mental well being. But this has been overlooked though. The last hundred years we have created more disorder in the community of microbes in our bodies, than in the last ten thousand years. When  Louis Pasteur discovered the process of pasteurization, governments quickly adopted a policy of pasteurization. With good reason because there was wide spread panic of acquiring sickness or death from bad dairy products in the early 1900's, such as tuberculosis. But post pasteurians say that refrigeration was unavailable then, and was a major cause to the pathogens taking over. There have been back and forth from pasteurians and post pasteurians, both sides with legitimate arguments. But as I read on in these books I came across a story about a nun named sister Noella who makes a famous French style cheese, that is a version of Sainte Nectaire made from raw milk, that is semi hard, fungi ripened. Mmm Sounds full of pathogens and bacteria and crazy things. But sister Noella's cheese was inspected by the FDA, and she was asked to make all her cheese in a steel vat, with pasteurized milk. She only ever made her cheese in a wooden oak barrel, with raw milk, that was only cleaned with a light spray of water from a hose and nothing more. Sister Noella having a masters in micro biology decided to do an experiment, and pasteurized the steel vat with milk, and left the barrel as she normally would with raw milk, but doing one thing different. Inoculating both containers with E.coli. What do you think happened? She let the inspector know what she had done, and when the inspector tested the milk, he found the steel vat contaminated with E.coli and the wooden barrel with no trace of E.coli. Why? Because the pasteurized milk had killed off all the microbes, and allowed the E.coli to thrive, because there was no competition. The wooden barrel sort of, policed it self, it harmonized, and the E.coli could not dominate due to the diversity of the microbes in the raw milk. To this day sister Noella sells her raw milk cheese without having any health issues reported. I grew up thinking how safe and important pasteurization is, but reading about sister Noellas story changed my view, and opened my perspective to these types of situations. Now, it is known that hand sanitizers are bad for you because it kills off most of the invisible microbial community that is essentially your invisible shield of protection. Your average hand sanitizer kills 99.9% bacteria, making way for the .1% that survives to evolve and become more resilient and mutate to a super bug, that antibiotics over time have lost their effectiveness. Which causes panic, and more drastic measures, such as making stronger antibiotics, for our protection, which no one knows the outcomes for. There is a reason for these microbes. Some are bad, some are great, and they have been figuring it out and harmonizing, for a lot longer than our human existence. The microbial world and fermented foods are relatively still a new frontier, and further exploration is needed, rather than fear monger and trying to kill it off. It will always survive, and I'm certain that if the microbial world doesn't exist, we don't either.

The day started with myself and two others, Jeremy and Jessie driving to a neighbouring farm to slaughter the pig. It was a beautiful, but regular Mastatal morning. We arrived at finca siempre verde (always green farm) for 7 am in our beat up old pick up truck. When I say beat up, it's an understatement. Most first world states would deem this vehicle illegal, and condemn it especially on an unkept hilly dirt road. We meet Chilo, a local farmer who runs Siempre. He greets us with a contagious happy smile. Instantly you feel comfortable with this man around. Little did I know, how uncomfortable it was going to be no matter who was around me. Chilo introduced me to Cruz, who was hired from an indigenous reserve in a town called Zapaton about 45 minutes from Mastatal. Cruz was going to do the dirty deed of the slaughtering process.

We follow Chilo and Cruz to the pig pen, where they lassoed Macho, the poor hapless swine. It seemed like Macho immediately knew what was going on, and himself and his pal that shared the pen squealed together, and almost kind of embraced by cornering themselves in a precarious position in the pen. I don't know pig culture, but it was like Macho was saying goodbye to his pal. "This is it, Something horrible is about to happen. I've been scammed. Thanks for the fellowship." It took a couple minutes, and Cruz finally got the rope around him. All the while, I'm feeling anxious and queezy, like this is not right, I shouldn't see this, it's gonna be barbaric, inhumane! I feel a little sick in my stomach, and it seems to be gaining steam as killing time approaches. I feel a deep deep sorrow for macho. A feeling of a slow creeping sickness under my skin begins to consume me. This event made way for An ancient emotion; so ancient and powerful a feeling, it brings about a fearful insecurity, the depths of which reside in the deepest darkest canyon that your soul has explored. Seriously!

Cruz gets him out, and walks him around a patch of grass. Macho starts eating, almost as if it's his last meal, then Cruz hands off the rope to Chilo, grabs his axe and knife. I'm nervous and questioning all of this. He waits for macho to look down and eat grass, then takes his axe turns it to the blunt side, lifts up the axe over his head, and steps into a thundering swing. Macho unaware of his self determined fate, takes a vicious clean blow to his forehead. The squeal from macho, as his legs give away and drop to the ground, is unbearable at first. Until you realize, Macho has about two seconds before the next and most crushing blow comes to him. With only a loud helpless squeal to defend macho, Cruz stabs him repeatedly in his heart. I have no recollection of what I would have looked like, but I felt numb, and lifeless at the moment. Like a part of my life was sucked out along with machos. I wasn't sure how to handle it, but I just kept observing because it was fascinating, as it was cruel and perverse. Slowly the squeals stopped, as did machos convulsions. He was dead. "Muerte" as Chilo said. I had a moment of reflection. What happened? Is this right? I'm not sure I can enjoy this. This is going to be a long day. Then I looked at Jeremy, he was in shock and looked as sad, but much more emotionally affected, but Jeremy's sad and shocked expression brought me back to reality. I start to try and encourage myself. “A pig was slaughtered, for your sustenance, honor and appreciate the pig and whatever future meals you eat from this pig.” As I start to think about this realization, Chilo asks me to drag the pig to  get weighed. No time for dwelling. "Wow, it's a weird feeling again, I'm not over it." I said to myself. 

In all this, Jessie was the most calm of all. Little background on Jessie. She is 22, hunted and butchered her own venison, owns a few guns, and has lived in picturesque area of nature most of her life. This ain't shit to her.

Macho awaiting his fate.

Muerte

We weigh the pig, and Chilo mumbles a few more instructions. I have no idea what this guy is saying. Just constant mumbles along with smiles. Like every word from his mouth began and ended with m. Along with that, I have visions of what just happened, and I'm carrying a pig by the hoove. Finally we weigh the pig. No idea what it weighs. Followed by some more mumbling by smiling Chilo, pointing to the vehicle we arrived in. We load the pig in the truck. "Gracias Chilo." I said. "Mon mustom" says Chilo, which was probably con gusto.

We get back to the ranch, and prep the pig for butchering. First we took boiling water to clean and take off the hair on the skin. Then we hung it up and let Cruz segment the pig. Finally, we start butchering and organizing the cuts.

Oddly enough, the butchering calmed me right down. I was in work mode, but thoughts would come to mind. Such as being a full fledged vegetarian. I also from time to time felt sad, and at times, not sure what to make of this experience.

Looks like 100kg.

The set up for the butchering.

Cruz sectioning the pig into smaller parts for us to butcher.setting up before butcher

We butchered and separated into various cuts. 

I had a chat with Robin later that day and she gave me some perspective. She stressed of the care the animal received, and the economic impact associated with the raising and slaughtering of the animal, as well as the livelihood of a rural setting such as this, and the importance that this brings to dying cultural civilization that is a rural community. It's difficult to see an animal being slaughtered. But I take comfort that this animal had a happy life until the sacrifice of its life was made for our sustenance. Now think about the meat we buy from a grocery store. What happens to that animal? How is that animal treated in this industrial agricultural paradigm?  I think quite impersonally, cruel, and with a disregard for its well being, in such an inconsiderate way because of greed and the profits associated with the procedure.

I came across a quote from a book I read by Wes Jackson called Becoming native to this place that hammers home the thought I mention above. "What if researchers in animal science were ever mindful of where our domesticated livestock spent most of their evolutionary history? The chicken would be, first of all (in a breeders mind), a jungle fowl rather than calling industrial property. It would not be just chattel to be confined in small cages to produce eggs or meat. The hog would be a forest animal, not just a meat producer kept in such close confinement that the baby pigs are made into near pin cushions by needles squinting the prophylactic antibiotics close confinement requires. Both beef and the milk cow had their origin as grazers in savanna-like conditions, not as feedlot critters or milk machines designed to be fed like a hay baler."

So this is the reality, and how these animals suffer even before they are sent through a mechanized impersonal process of slaughter is of the cruelest of things. To act as if these creatures are inert of feelings and don't deserve or even matter if they have a happy life is criminal to this planet and what it gives us, creating the behaviour in us as humans as that of the likes of a dictator. So then I have a question or maybe a request. Is it not important to know where and what your food comes from? At least think about, maybe investigate, maybe change and support a better more righteous effort.

This whole experience made me see the value in buying organic meat, organic food in general. I see it's worth and understand the circumstances. I asked Scott if he thought organic food like grass fed organic beef is overvalued?  

I don't think so, because you look back 70 yrs ago, and it was flipped. Food was expensive, and much better and people were healthier. Now people spend less on food, therefore buy worse food. Unknowingly they are paying just as much for organic food, because of the taxes that go towards subsidies received by big agricultural corporations. It is Also difficult for organic farmers to make profit, because they do not have access to those subsidies that big corporations do. So this leads to people buying cheaper food, therefore not valuing food, and by not valuing food you disregard your health and possibly compromise it, which (in the United States) can end up costing a significant amount to treat your ailment for a short while, but not cure it; because chances are you will resort back to your old diet of corporations cooking for you. In the end, the money you spend for your health, which can go to an organic farmer, goes back to another corporation in a different industry, the "healthcare industry".

So paying extra for an organic beef burger that was locally raised is a beneficial and worth while investment. But makes me wonder, what if small holder organic farmers received the subsidies that the big ag corporations get. Maybe not even all, maybe like 30%, I think it maybe enough of a difference maker, to improve a lot of people's lives.

Scott also mentioned to me about a study on the actual cost of a Big Mac in America and the study found, that it cost $130 on average. Why? I'm not sure because I did a poor job of transcribing what he told me, but it was something to the extent of Taxes paid by an individual that goes into a subsidy for the agricultural corporations. McDonald's being the worlds largest purchaser of beef, will certainly get this subsidy. Then add the taxes you pay towards social benefits like welfare and food stamps, especially amongst low earning fast food workers who can only afford to buy foods through food stamps or crappy meals at McDonald's. It ends up being a cycle of benefits to companies like McDonald's. Unfortunately this could all be hearsay because I cannot site this or show any evidence of it, and with Scott not around to confirm and direct me, researching these findings are quite difficult. However it does seem plausible and I think we do end up paying a lot more for things than we think we are paying, and this is maybe something to think about.

Taking this one step further the same can be said of fruits, vegetables, and grains. Any of the fore mentioned have most likely come from large mono crop fields. Imagine acres of corn, or potatoes, with nothing but themselves. Kind of reminds me of a concentration camp or a ghetto. Seems like a harsh comparison, but I'll try to explain. All our sought after annual and perennial crops have all had specific birth places before farmers discovered them. They harvested, acquired and propagated the seeds, then traded seeds with other farmers, and created vast trade routes, to expand the area of these crops. Your everyday veggies such as potatoes and tomatoes came from the Andes, and not from Ireland or Italy. These birth places were filled with bio diversity and thrived with various types of life that each perform an important service, from protection, to adaptability, resilience. The superlatives go on. You won't find that at a banana plantation or a corn field. The soil would probably be deteriorating or even nonexistent, or on its way to desertification. The use of chemical fertilizers, pesticides, and fungicides, along with destructive farming practices have made way for rapid land deterioration. Harmony with other creatures is discouraged, due to the use of the man made chemicals, and can bring about a madness, a sickening environment to the land in the form of drought and disease. Just like a ghetto, where food desserts (a place where you have no access to whole foods like veggies or rice, only candy bars, Doritos and other heavily processed foods) are more prevalent. Also in most low income housing areas, Segregation is rampant, and all sorts of physical, social and mental diseases reside. My point is plants, animals, humans all need to be around each other for the virtuous spiral to keep giving, that sustains and recycles the cycle of life. Living in a ghetto, there is a clear disparity and imbalance that resides. Or in this case a Monocrop plantation. Too much of one thing has never been good, or brought a great harmony. Coming from Sri Lankan culture, I think of a dinner with family and friends. The variety of delectable items from basic appetizers to the main course to dessert, such a diverse array of food. Various curries of meat and veggies, chutneys, sambols, starches, cooked greens, and even fermented food. A buffet of variety that brings about a harmony of beauty, comfort and fellowship.

When I decided to write this blog, I imagined that every post, I will have pics of the best dishes the ranch had to offer. But that all changed when my pal Petey d'courcey made a comment about me posting a pic from San Jose, where I am holding an empanada and some plantain chips. I asked myself, am I one of those of guys? Taking pics of food wherever I go, like a so called foodie. Petey's comment made me a little insecure and very self conscious. From that point I thought it to be quite lame to take pics of food, but at the same time I was genuinely excited at eating food and giving my opinion like one of those snobs on tv, talking about how awesome the food They have eaten is. So I refrained as best I could until I got to the ranch to consider posting pics. Arriving at the ranch I came across a second realization. Tico food is not as flavourful as I thought or was told, at least in rural Costa Rica. It was a bit disappointing and maybe even bland in some cases. It really caught me off guard at first, but slowly I came around to it. My initial disappointment brought upon a question as to why, and all signs pointed to one occurrence. Seems that development of cooking and techniques have been kind of in a state of limbo, or even an identity crisis. According to history, the primary reason was a mass genocide caused by small pox from European settlers, and because the disease eradicated most of the natives in the Americas, along with them, they lost the ways of  traditional cooking, and much more. The industrial revolution also brought upon various pressures of assimilation that also lead to the abandonment of the old ways. Also the slave trade brought in the west Africans to the Caribbean, and about 150 years ago some migrated as free people to work in Costa Rica, and since then they have brought upon a unique cultural cuisine from their African heritage. A Cuisine that is quite familiar to that of Jamaica. Then spending my first week at the ranch I came across a third realization. What I knew of food preparation was minuscule, there were many more doors to cooking food than what I taught myself and what I saw on tv, like the incredible world of fermentation. Lastly, the holistic approach to food and where food comes from is severely overlooked, misunderstood, under appreciated, and in some instances overvalued for the wrong reasons. As of now this has felt like one of the most important experiences of my Iife, and if you were to witness what I have, you may view it the same way.

Tico food is tasty

It's not that rural Tico food is not tasty, or palatable, because it is. It's just, that it was quite underwhelming, and my first couple weeks of being introduced to rural local fare was well below my expectations. The national dish in Costa Rica is rice and beans. Mmm yummy, doesn't sound bland at all, and it will probably have a tantalizing effect on my taste buds. Well it had an effect of sorts. An effect that was quite beneficial to me unknowingly. Every meal at the ranch will have rice and beans in some form, because it's local, and easy to source, but the ranch's head chef robin has found ways to make some variations exceptionally good, and after a while rice beans becomes quite tasty. She has jazzed up the rice and beans by creating different variations, some courtesy of Mexican recipes. As well, Robin has been quite successful at making a tasty vegetarian menu with other local dishes that accompany rice and beans, such as tamales, empanada's, various green plantain dishes, and the use of yuca. Her menus from time to time have non local fare, which she has trained the tica staff to successfully create foreign deliciousness to accompany rice and beans, and still maintaining locally sourced and grown food.

Starfruit salad.

Dosa with a peanut jackfruit curry.

Tico matza ball soup. The big dumpling is made of chicken, herbs, and yuca.

Sometimes we have North American brunch. Crumpets with eggs gravy and cheese.

If I could further describe rural Tico food before showing pictures, is that it's simple, tasty, and executed pretty well. I would say my favourite are the fried green plantain dishes, and yuca bammy, which is almost like hash brown patty made of yuca. The picadillos, ( a dish comprised of cooked greens or root vegetables that are sautéed in herbs and spices) are delicious but it took some time for me to develop a pallet for it. It felt like it took me a couple of months to actually realize how tasty it was. Of course it also could be that I just wolf down food without actually making a better effort to taste it. You know, chew a few times really quickly while moving around your mouth and swallow. Then there is also the fact I love spicy food, and too much spicy food can make non spicy food taste bland, and you end up compensating with loads of hot chillies or hot sauce to make it more palatable according to some people. I'm sure it was a combination of both, but I have only made a better effort to eat slower and actually taste the food I am eating. The spice I will always be addicted to. Too bad for my pallet, and all Sri Lankans, and all cultures that need spice in their meals, I guess.  The funny thing now, after experiencing and understanding this cuisine I feel like my pallet maybe opening up to more flavours because these meals that I have found bland at times, may actually be doing a slow long term cleanse of my pallet. Shout out to occasional or temporary blandness.

Variations of rice and beans below. 

Rice and beans with a yuca bammy.

Rice and beans with patacones.

Rice and refried beans with empanadas.

Local and not so local

Living in a sustainable living center, I was curious to see how sufficient and local the ranch's food supply is. I was met with reality yet again, but with a new found understanding. The ranch is very insufficient in most of there food systems. The closest they are sufficient in food that they grow them selves is star fruit and bananas, but that's maybe 50% sufficient. But they have created various food systems in the hopes that in 5 to 10 years they would be taking a few steps forward. They have breadfruit, jack fruit, marang, and durian planted throughout the property, which they are hoping will be a sufficient high calorie nutritious form of sustenance. Only problem is that these tree crops are years away from producing, but when they do, they produce huge amounts. Recently one of the ranch's jackfruit trees produced a bountiful harvest. Some jackfruit like the one below weight upwards of 20 lbs and had at least 10 that were harvested.

For the ranch to be food sufficient they are depending on perennial crops, which all come from trees. There is a huge advantage to this, better soil, more food, less work once the tree is mature, and loads of bio mass, to help keep the land more fertile. Annual crops on the other hand, (potatoes, tomatoes, other root vegetables, etc) can also have bountiful harvests, but at a price. They need much more labour, on an annual basis they damage soil and if you don't choose to plant your annuals on different patches of land you will deteriorate the land. Just look at the Napa valley. Once believed to have 50 plus meters of soil, depleted to a couple feet in a hundred years or so, albeit by destructive plowing, but the point is the less you have to work the land the better It is for all living things.

Now most of these annuals are purchased from a vegetable delivery guy, and the fruit trees such as mangos, star fruit, rambutan, and the various other tree crops the ranch has, provides our daily sustenance, but they are not exactly local fare. At least it is sourced locally, but what is local Tico food crops? Rice and beans?

Inquiring further I find out that there is no local rice grain in Costa Rica. It was only recently introduced to Costa Rica, making this culture even more further removed from their nourishing traditions. They are also not the best growers of rice. Rice was only introduced to Costa Rica from China around 200 years ago without a manual on how to grow it. So then what is supposed to be typical Tico food, and how far removed are they from this? I asked the ranch's agricultural expert Scott, to give me some direction on this present conundrum. He told me that a lot of the knowledge was lost due to small pox and conflict with Spanish conquerors. The result was a mass genocide, where a lot of languages, indigenous knowledge, and a way of living were lost. To track down the knowledge of the past, Scott has been able to ask the elders of the community to remember what they ate as children and maybe see if they remember their parents or grandparents talking about other types of food. What has been uncovered so far, mainly tree crops from the jungle, like ojoche, a highly nutritious tree nut, that is delicious when toasted, and peji baye, which is a palm fruit that has a nutty sweet potato type consistency. It can be made many ways and is a delicious starch. Peji baye could potentially be a thing in North America. Also from the peji baye tree, you can harvest the heart of the Palm and make a picadilo from it. They would have also eaten lots of fruit and other tree crops, and various cooked greens that would have a spinach consistencey, and some with a slightly bitter profile. As well they hunted small game and caught fish. Rice, beans and corn had a very minimal presence if any at all before colonizing nations arrived.

So then how did we arrived here? Seems a complicated answer. But I think it's because of how accelerated economic progress became after the industrial revolution. This is just a personal thought, and is pretty open and an easy claim to make, but I'll try my best to elaborate.  Consider food like beer, bread and cheese. These were all once local products that varied in flavour and processing techniques, from place to place. Each region had its own individuality, and were quite unique and exclusive to the region. But now, we can buy products like Molson Canadian, velveeta, and wonder bread that look and taste the same everywhere. The industrial revolution promoted the emergence of mass production, mass marketing, which entail uniformity, which ends up killing diversity. I read a book by Michael Pollan called cooked, and one part struck a chord with me. He writes "McDonald's, and coca cola and other huge corporations permeate minds on a global scale to create desire for their products. This homogenization of culture, a sad, ugly process by which languages, oral traditions, beliefs and practices are becoming extinct every year, while ever greater wealth and power is concentrated in fewer hands." This has been happening all over the world not just Costa Rica, and we have all bought into it, quite seamlessly and without resistance. Exploring this further, I asked Scott for his take on food production and how overlooked it is in present day.

Scott: Certainly has been. A lot of that farm work was drudgery. It was a lot of work, so convenience certainly played a role, much more than that, people were suffering. Women would be in the kitchen the whole day, cooking or washing. So technology reduced stress and burden, and it was deliberate policy, to reduce the number of workers on farms and move them to the urban work force to improve productivity. Principally done by reducing price subsidies to farmers making it more difficult for farmers to maintain the life, and only individuals that had money or were willing to go in to certain debt were the ones that stayed the course.