I could go for some yack butter tea and barley bread right now. Really. We were served the version with honey and not salt, although the yak butter was quite salty, which made a nice balance. The tea, made from smoked leaves of a Tibetan bush, is rumored to give the body strength and energy and warm the soul during cold days and nights. 

It's a little crazy that at this time last year we were there in a hauntingly beautiful valley in southwestern China.  And it was damn cold. I remember looking for some warm clothes in Chengdu the day before we set out for Jiuzhaigou . We bought a bunch of warm socks (I still have them) and a few fleece jackets. We thought that would be enough. We had no idea how much colder Jiuzhaigou , China is at this time of year. Let's see, while I'm typing this it's 11:36 pm there. The sun will be up in 6 hours there. It is 58F today there with thunderstorms. We woke up the second day we were there to snow covered mountains.

Looking outside, it's hard to believe the winter is over here, but it is. I've been running by blooming trees and flowers for over two weeks. Supposedly it'll get to the low 70's here today and sunny, while it's expected to hit 97F in my hometown of San Antonio, TX. Weather is crazy. If we think too hard, we may get overwhelmed with all the crazy variations of weather around the globe right at this moment. Traveling makes you think about these things more often. I'm often wondering what it's like in some tiny little place we were at a year ago. And with the proliferation of data and the power of the internet, it's fairly easy to check and be aware at any time of day what is is, wherever. 

I remember the 12 hour bus ride up, which followed the river valleys for almost the entire way to the Tibetan valley of Jiuzhaigou, that is now and increasingly overrun by Han Chinese. If you are middle-class or upper-middle class, heading to Jiuzhaigou sometime in your life has become the thing to do. Our bus trip following the gorges and rivers, passed over the damns and rock quarry's that supply a lot of the raw material for the vast Sichuan province. Here and there signs of the 2008 Earthquake that rent homes and lives lay amidst new towns and buildings. 

Jiuzhaigou has become a modern day wild west tourist destination and we hopped from the bus to taxi and were hustled down the main road, whistling past new restaurants and hotels that have sprung up over the last 15 years ending at a small village just outside the town.

It was in the hands and open arms of a Tibetan family that we had some of our most remarkable moments in China. The villagers there live with a mix of very old and traditional houses with a few modern amenities. Stark is an understatement. One of the houses we slept in had an outdoor toilet, a hole between old wooden boards, off the edge of the house, a 20 foot drop to the pile below. Wind whistles through the slats. The man that lives there was in his late 70's, at least. 

But the love and embrace of life there is something I'll never forget. And thinking back to that time, I get a little warmer thinking of the time we spent with that wonderful family and village. When Lo San the young cousin of our host was gently coaxed by his grandmother inside. 

So, today I took a walk through our not so distant past. Here Lo San, being a terrible two monster of a child looks up into my lens. 

His dad watches proudly while Lo San gets up to something else.

Then we huddle inside, warmed by the fire and the yak butter tea, some relishing it while others look upon with disdain and anxiety. 

Over that 24 hours that was this day one year ago, when looking back over the imagery, it looks as if we floated through the minutes. The day passed here while we went to bed and then rose early to walk the valley and national park in Jiuzhaigou. Here Tracie ponders the stunning quiet found in the noise of a bank of low waterfalls.

We walked a good amount of the length of the park, hopping on the constant hum of trams full of chinese tourists, here and there. We wanted to get our money worth at $50 US each for one day in the park. We strolled for about six hours. 

Birds gorged themselves by the dribbling streams

Phantoms arose from the mineral lakes

And slight changes in perspective, would change everything you saw

We were welcomed back to the Tibetan village by the prayers on the wind

With thoughts of that day we plunge into today.

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Meet Yoshi. One of the unfortunate things about visiting a place far away is that there are always things you regret not doing. Below is the best photo of Yoshi I have. Like so many other wonderful people we've met in our travels, we didn't take enough pictures of or with him. Viewed in a positive light, it's one of the millions of reasons to see these people again.  Notwithstanding there are qualities within this photo I'd never have captured had I known I would forget to take a few more. 

I like the following photo of Yoshi. But before you look at it I want to try and describe the man himself. I understand you never fully know a person, however a some you can learn a lot from someone that is willing to open their doors and let it all hang out so to speak. Sure, in Japan it's a culturally significant act. If you're going to be a host, you're going to be the best damn host there is and that means opening up your life just a little bit.

But people will surprise you when you least expect it. In Japan, the level of hospitality that we experienced, its something that will make you feel like you've never felt before. Here in the states we're all so afraid of letting people in, letting people get close. And the Japanese, in our films and books and history, have this reputation of being stand-offish. There oceans of books about the closed society that is Japan. Some would say the glimmer that Yoshi shared with us was more to show that the Japanese are extraordinary and unique, but I would argue he did it to show us how similar we are and how culturally unique we all are.

There is much to be gained in letting your guard down and opening up your trust. I'm still learning. Hopefully by the time I lay to rest for good, I'll understand how all this works mostly. Yoshi brought me and I think us both closer towards opening our hearts fully. We spent a little over four days with Yoshi and I grew to respect and love him as a friend and wise soul. It's not just that he took in complete strangers and hosted them in such a welcoming and open manner, it's that he did it with pride and caring. Hospitality with no-expectation of anything in return.

It wouldn't be such a big deal and I don't think I'd go on about it so much if I felt I could encounter it a little more here in the states. But I remain a skeptic, an un-trusting, fearful, questioning American at heart. But this man let us into his life, his home and showed us the beauty, joy and delight that can be lived in a very unique culture that began hundreds of generations before ours. In turn, he shared with us his respect and value of some of our very own cultural values that are questioned and frowned upon by people within our very own borders and shared with us his delight for the exceptional nature of our own country and that its position in the history of the world isn't something to be taken lightly or belittled as much as we do.He taught us respect. Respect is not something that is permanent. It's hard gained and a long and winding road. The potholes are huge sometimes and it could use a good paving. He showed us we could be the pavers or the ones driving over without slowing down. That was in our hands.

Yoshi is man that stands tall at around 5 foot 7. Every move seems deliberate, unsentimental and unwavering. Here he stands in front of a roadside egg vending machine. They aren't the eggs he usually buys, but something of a novelty that he wanted to share with us. Us being interested in food. The sun in Kyushu is unrelenting at times and Yoshi is always prepared. Khaki safari shorts, cut just above the knee hung loosely over his energetic, seeming, thirty'ish frame. His golf shirt, collars thankfully cuffed where they belong, curled and resting on his tense shoulders, his sunglasses firmly concealing his glimmering eyes. His corporate hat pulled just over his brow, brim slightly curled from moderate wear. Gold bespectacled sunglasses flash the likeliness that the Kyushu day will blast us with its direct sun and dehydrate us with its steamy sea breeze. Skin a tanned hide of restful exertion in the South Japanese sun. Kagoshima like the Florida of his dreams. Snow falls infrequent and for brief moments at best.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/emptyhighway/5224389941/

When Nafumi originally introduced us over email to Yoshi and she mentioned that he's be willing to host us she had hinted that he loved food and cooking and probably would love to have me cook. Yea, right, let me in his kitchen? Not in this lifetime. Our first email from Yoshi was short and sweet and from it he gathered and collected his thoughts for an entire itinerary for his guests. It started at lunch and continued during his dental appointment, through dinner and just up until we retired to these lovely beds.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/emptyhighway/5224439845/

He built our itinerary from our short answer to these questions:

Dear Tracie:
 
Your flight schedule was noted. Please let me know;
 
1) How many days you are planning to spend in Kagoshima,
2) your strongest interest in Kagoshima (food, local history, nature, arts etc), and
3) food that you don't like or cannot eat.
 
I look forward to seeing you at the airport.
 
Yoshi

Our answers.

Dear Yoshi,
We are thinking of staying in Kagoshima until the morning of the 11th.
 
We've done a bit of reading about Kagoshima and it sounds like there is so much to see and learn.As far as Nature goes, we would really like to go hiking/seeing a bit of the countryside and the volcanoes. Are there any onsen in the area? We would definitely like to experience one. We've spent some time on farms on this trip, with more planned, and are completely open to any suggestions you have.We are interested in some of the more famous foods that Kagoshima prefecture is famous for, such as anything you know or can share about Shochu (Imojochu), Kurobuta , Kuroushi, Satsuma-age, and also any other local traditional foods that are from the area .
 
We are really excited to eat the food, we eat most everything, no allergies. Also, are there are any good produce or meat markets to visit? And if you're interested Wayne (with my help :) ) could cook a meal or two, he's been missing the kitchen since we've been traveling (although he is probably pretty rusty having been eating out nearly the entire trip :(   ).
 
Basically, we are looking for a local perspective on your hometown, every place we've traveled since we started back in March, we've been fortunate enough to meet up with or spend a few days with people that really know the place. We love to hear and see what others know about their slices of the world. We look forward to yours and to meeting you.
 
If you have any further questions, we'll be checking our email sporadically this evening after our last dinner here.

Yours,
Wayne and Tracie
 

That first evening we headed to his mountain house. Yea, he has a river house and a mountain house. It sounds more extravagant than it really is. Yoshi spent 30 years in the states in New York and San Francisco working for investment firms, so while money probably isn't something he worries too much about, generally he live pretty simply if not ascetically, that is excluding his taste for art, music, beer, good food every now and again and Shochu. As he explained it, when he was looking for a city to retire to, he was thinking about a good place to grow old. One that could meet all his basic needs and provide an amenable climate. He didn't want to be shoveling snow when he was 80 and I don't blame him. Who the hell would? He was still living in NY when he was deciding on a city to live and took a short trip back to visit the countryside, a lot had changed since he lived here years ago. He knew his country, he visited often enough, but he wanted to get a good idea of which cities were best. He'd settled on a list of three cities. He visited one other before Kagoshima, and he never visited the last. When he stayed in Kagoshima, he knew it was it. Like a man picking out socks in a department store, it met most of the requirements and had plenty of activities to keep him lively for the decades to come.

His river house was the first house he bought and lived in in Kagoshima. Later on some opportunity presented itself, he knew someone with a piece of land to sell, he took the opportunity and much later came upon some inspiration while visiting a local sculpture museum. He had an idea in his mind for the ultimate one-man home with space for visiting family. He didn't talk much about his family, but he proudly explained he had sons and one had recently visited just before us, with wife and grandchildren as well. As we were winding through his neighborhood down a street I saw this crazy looking house.

I thought,  "Jesus, that looks like a spaceship from Star Wars. It looks like the Emperor's ship." I'm glad I didn't say it out loud.

We pulled right into the driveway. We were home.

We went inside, set our stuff down and took a brief tour before heading up to unload our stuff, rest a bit and come down to take a bath. Our new pre-dinner ritual during our stay with Yoshi. And why the hell wouldn't you want to take a bath in this?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/emptyhighway/4712190767/

As with everything in Japan, Yoshi's attention to detail was wrapped up into the nature of the culture itself, centered around hospitality, generosity and sharing. We had no idea the level that people will go. Now we do, and now we know who's setting the bar. The Japanese. So, we soaked our travel weary sack of skin, truly just a bag of bones encased in hot flesh, we felt as we individually took our turn wincing into the volcanic heated sulfurous water that spewed from a faucet jutting out of his house. Tapped precariously deep somewhere out of sight hidden under brush perhaps in the mountains of Japan. Every evening he does this, looks out on Kagoshima Bay. The house is somewhere near the border of Kagoshima and Kirishima. It sits somewhere north by northeast of Sakurajima as seen below.

View Larger Map
We sat in Yoshi's own personal Onsen, ticking a mark on our list of 'things we want to do'. Check, onsen, done. No, not really. You don't think about lists siting in an onsen, on shallow deck, that rests on a shallow wooden deck, pitched up on a mountainside, overlooking Kagoshima Bay, just above the clouds that hang and stick to the craggy sides of Sakurajima. You don't think about anything but the heat, the water, your heart pounding and the sounds of the breeze, the birds, the insects, your thoughts saying.

"Yea, I could get used to this."

Your body melts into the fumes and core of the earth softened water, slightly basic, gently scraping at your skin. Aged cells float to the surface and tug at your skin that peeks out of the gentle waves created by your unintentional shivering flesh. You look out at this.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/emptyhighway/4712193589/

We dry off, slip into new clothes and head to the feast awaiting us every evening. Despite my daily attempts to lend a hand in the kitchen. Yoshi is unyielding in his gentle control over our experience. We settle down that first evening to Sapporo Premium to start, one glass for me (Yoshi's already on his second). We take a look at the spread.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/emptyhighway/4712832632/

Ok, so let's just reflect a little on what he's done in one day with us. Look back at our email. Is there anything that is left to do, taste see? He's about to pour us Shochu in the Southern Kyushu Style, mixed with hot springs water. On the spread there is: Kagoshima Kuroushi (Wagyu Beef), Kibi (the silvery fish, a traditional delicacy) and sushi galore. And need I remind you, we are still steaming from our baths in the healing waters of a Japanese hot springs personal onsen. Plus, we got to walk in and around the temple grounds of one of the most auspicious temples of the entire country. We'd been on a quick visit to the local farmer's market just before heading up the mountain from the river valley that is Kagoshima city.

Whenever someone sends us an email, letting us know that they are coming to town, maybe they'll meet up with us or stay with us for a bit. We have a new understanding of what it means to be a good and welcoming host. Yoshi's home and life are his own personal museum in a way. He opened his doors and gave us a glimpse of what he has inside. Walking through his home, much like our own, tells a story, sometimes a hidden story. Sometimes it takes a few questions to gain enough understanding to appreciate what's you are seeing. He welcomed the questions and took us into his daily adventure.

Exploring Yoshi's House

Yoshi's spaceship of a mountain house as Tracie said to me one day, is something out of an architectural magazine. It's a good place to stop, and ponder what goes on inside the mind of our host. One day, Yoshi drove us up to a sculpture museum, it's called 'Kagoshima Open-Air Museum'. He gave us a brief story about his mountain house, the one I've already shared, how he came upon his inspiration for his house here. I've never met someone that was able to directly show me their inspiration for their home before. I know people who have these ideas in their heads and have seen those become drawings, but I've never seen the seed. Yoshi took us to his seed, he shared his inspiration with pride and now whenever I look back at the images of his house, I get a little smile, if not on my face, it rests inside, keeps me warm.

If I had ventured upon that iron sculpture on my own. I would have simply been entertained and intrigued at the audacity of the artist. But when I look back at the light and the way it casts, I begin to see beyond the object and towards to moment that opened, an opportunity to think outside the box. Not only was Yoshi sharing his pride in his home and his inspiration, he was sharing his pride and respect of the creative mind, something he feels is vibrant and ever-present in the United States, something he's hoping to re-kindle in Japan.  One idea at a time is shaping the world everyday.

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We haven't spoken much about our time in Japan. By all means this is not because we had nothing to say, nothing to reflect on instead it's quite the opposite. Japan is as it ever will be an intriguing and mysterious island for travelers arriving from a western perspective. A few hundred years ago I imagine it was even more shocking, for we have a world of bindingly interconnectedness.  After we left Japan, the only country that came close to the particularly alone feeling that is Japan was Ireland. Japan stands out, culturally, geographically and as a place to move through. 

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This October, Conuco Farm and Evolutionary Organics were struck by a devastating fire, losing a season’s worth of storage crops, farm equipment, and personal belongings.  Join us for three upcoming fundraisers to help rebuild what was lost so these farms can grow for many seasons to come.

Friday, December 10, 2010, 8pm

Auction at “A Year at Rooftop Farm” Exhibition

6pm-11pm (auction begins at 8pm)

The Commons: 388 Atlantic Avenue, Brooklyn, NY

Check out a season of photographs of Eagle Street Rooftop Farm and do your holiday shopping at our auction! Live music, food & drinks.

Want to donate something to the auction? Contact us at bedstuycsa@gmail.com

Sunday, December 12, 2010, 7pm

Benefit Dinner at Palo Santo Restaurant

652 Union Street, Brooklyn, NY

$75 per person

Latin cuisine with wine pairings

Tuesday, December 14, 2010, 7pm

Benefit Dinner at iCi Restaurant

246 Dekalb Avenue, Brooklyn, NY

$75 per person

Seasonal cuisine with beer & wine

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Organizing photos is more labor intensive and time consuming than I'd ever imagined. Despite the technological advances of digital media over good ol' strip film (anyone remember that?) sorting through over 10,000 photos is still an onerous task.

But, que the drum roll please. Let us present the most important and we think best photos from our trip (at least of the ones we took on our digital SLR). We've organized them by the timeline of our trip.

The locations are as follows: Singapore, Thailand, Hong Kong, Southern China, South Korea (Seoul), Japan, Beijing, China, Italy, Turkey, Germany, Ireland, Germany. Whew. That's a mouth full. So, from 10,000+ I present you 469 of the most interesting. Each photo generally has a caption or tag explaining what and where it is. Enjoy. More reflections to come putting it all in context. Still so much to write.

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We may have mentioned it in passing to some of you or maybe even somewhere in the depths of our musing here, but as near as I can figure we can't say it enough. Signs of human impact on the world's weather systems seem clear to us from our travels. While our evidence and stories remain anecdotal at best, I think they still need to be shared. Every voice on this issue should be heard. 

Two days ago in the NY Times, an Op-Ed piece by a farmer, Jack Hedin, out of Rushford, MN, shared his observations on weather patterns and their detrimental effect of an extreme nature over the past 3 years in a piece entitled 'An Almanac of Extreme Weather'. This piece hits home here as we work towards opening a store and later small farm ourselves in the coming months to years. I highly recommend his piece if only to provoke some discussion on more thoughts on shaping our food systems here in United States. As conversations in and around the politics of food and sustainability in smaller farms gets more and more divisive with some posing it as a selectively 'elite problem' I want to suggest that soon, we may all be at the mercy of far greater issues beyond food price heading right down to food scarcity brought on by increasing extreme weather conditions around the world. Smaller farms that work towards sustainable practices, I'd argue are very much our hope for changing the weather systems to something more positive, if we can grow the base and add farmers that are interested in this. 

An unseasonably cool early summer in Northern Thailand

One of our first stops of our travels, landed us in a little known province of Northern Thailand called Isaan. There we were lead by Jo Jandai and Peggy Reents of Pun Pun Center for Self-Reliance on a tour a famers that were working their land by paying attention and working to sustain their local ecological systems and have limited negative impact to these ecological systems they're a part of and in turn were making positive impacts on their community. In our brief 'Sustainability Study' saw evidence of micro-climates that were preserving indigenous plants and animal life on farms such as Paw Jo's, whose farm stood out in the sun drenched drought stricken fields of the Thai summer like an Oasis in the desert. And it literally was. Paw Jo had noticed that on his land he had a pond, a forest and the cultivated areas of land that he'd been using for a number of years and rather than clearing the land where the pond or forest sit he'd decided to let them stay and instead plant near and amongst these indigenous features. The pond and forest, being on his land, adjacent to his cleared and cultivated area acted as a barrier to pest and disease. At every turn of conversation he would chime in something about his garden and land as his medicine. And his strong hands, healthy body and clear eyes and sense of humor all spoke loudly in support of these claims. Take a look at the man Paw Jo and a few glances at his farmland and gardens.

Paw Jo, watching a few birds fly in over his test 'dry-season' red rice crop.

Looking out from the entrance over his pond and into part of his forest.

A look across a neighbor's farm over to Paw Jo's in the background.

Paw Jo himself was not an easy convert to this way of life. After many years as a salesman in the big city of Bangkok, faced with economic collapse, Paw Jo, as thousands of others headed back to his native village and turned back to life on the land. In those early years he was a conventional farmer but as time moved on, he faced surmounting debt for feed, herbicides and the like and became curious when a young Jo Jandai returned to their village of Bahn Si Thanh and started an organic farmer's collaborative and began to recruit nearby farmer's to his cause. Paw Jo rode out a difficuly year of lower yields and new challenges but has seen ever increasing yields on his farm and changed his local micro-climate such that in the times of the dry season, when the hillsides of Thailand are covered with the fireflies of small forest and brush clearing fires of a conventional and traditional past, he has turned to experimenting with new organic crops in the summer, extending his bounty with minimal effort thanks to the encouraging and hopeful ecology he has nurtured.

But what does this have to do with a changing climate and man's impact on the weather patterns? Look back at the difference between Paw Jo's field and his neighbors conventionally farmed (herbicides, fertilizer and flooding) rice field to see the striking difference one man's actions have exerted on a pin-prick spot on this spinning heated globe of ours. It's irrefutable evidence of how we can destroy or nurture. 

We stayed a mere 20 minutes walk from Paw Jo's farm on Jo Jandai's family farm operated by his sister who had become the local advocate and organizer of organic farming in the town of Bahn Si Thanh since Jo had departed to start Pun Pun. Our first few nights on our 'sustainability trip' in Thailand's dry season, renowned for its unbearable heat, was a cold snap that Jo explained was not only unusual, but a potential harbinger of things to come. Several nights temperatures, normally in the 80-90's at night in March in Northern Thailand, dropped to mid-to-low Fifties. Sleeping in an Earthen hut with no windows and a thin blanket to insulate us from the windy cool nights left us eyeing the cold water pots that we used to bath we trepidation, but also became the usual on our five month journey. Weather was changing and faster than we all are expecting. 

Our original plans had us heading over to Laos and then up the Mekong into China. We had wanted to ride a riverboat and start our China journey from the West, in Sichuan Province and make our way to Fujian Province. The weather did not let us. Well, weather and human needs that is. By the end of March we were making plans for our next stop and came to find that the riverboats weren't running on the Mekong because it was dry. 'Come again, the Mekong is dry?' I said in disbelief to Tracie one day as we sat in our hostel in Chang Mai perusing our options on our handy-dandy netbook. Here's a post from a few days ago about the current situation of the Mekong Delta. Now, the Mekong is most directly affected by the demand created by it's neighbor to the North, China and its insatiable appetite for water, but where lay the ramifications for the handful of tropical climate, water driven economies to the South. If the water is diverted from these lands how will the micro-climates be affected? Not only are these water-supply issues, but they are life threatening issues that are inextricably linked and prima-facie evidence that man has an immutable affect upon our world. 

Istanbul: Landing amidst lightning, flash floods and torrential rain

Thailand was the most obvious example of extreme weather fluctuations and abnormalities on our trip. Right up until we landed in Istanbul, Turkey. I'll never forget those first few hours post arrival in Istanbul. It was a bumpy turbulence filled landing that made my grip on the seat arm rests draw my hands white from lack of blood circulation. After decrypting the way way to get back to the city-center we hopped aboard a modern bus, better than anything in the states, and lurched off into the night for our hour ride journey to the city center to Taksim Square. The whole ride lighting cracked across the clouds and dropped down to earth dropping down a eerie backdrop onto the approaching trip towards Istanbul. We hopped off to torrential rains the likes I haven't seen since high-school when we were all sent home do to sideways rains that foreboded tornados and bad things for our fearful Texas administrators. We were rushed off the bus in such a hurry out into the poring rain that we left a bag (only to be recovered the next morning) and made the first dumb choice of Taxi drivers the entire trip. 

After surviving that first night coming out only with our clothes damp, our eyes tired and our egos bruised from being ripped off by an unusual con of a driver, we marched into one of the best 10 days of our trip in the heart of mystery and intrigue in the incredible beautiful city of Istanbul. But those rains would visit us time and again over the next week only opening up to puffy cloud blue skies a few times in our stay there. Every Turk we encountered shared a similar conceit, these were very unusual weather patterns for Istanbul. 'Storms such as these are not around this time of year.' 'This is the first I can remember.' 'It's crazy.' 

One day, after a nice visit to the Istanbul Modern, we stepped off the tram onto an outdoor platform filled with passengers crowding underneath bench shelters as a torrential flash flood ripped through the city in the span of 8 minutes. We watched water washed down with such volume and force as to tear down sand-bag embanked barriers and fill first levels of buildings at the base of the hills with 7 inches of water in that time. Day in and out these rains came. 'Unusual.' ,'Never seen it.' ,'Global warming?' were all remarks made by residents of Istanbul of over 15 years. 

Ireland Endures

Some of the grayest days on record have bound to be held in Ireland or somewhere in the UK. During the course of our stay, one of our hosts, Paul, a native of Cork (Corcaigh) County, Ireland, in the South West of Ireland proclaimed, "Lucky, you guys are lucky. It's what my mom would term it 'insufferably hot, unbearable..." when he told us about how unusual the weather had been the first few days we were there. We had to take our jackets off on numerous occasions it was so 'unbearable'. Jokes notwithstanding, there is something to be said here. Even in West Cork, where "It probably will rain today", is a common remark, no matter the time of year, we had some extremely beautiful sun-filled days. We were lucky, but how long will this luck last? 

On the Flight Home

Heading back, we flew Iceland Air and inevitably flew over Greenland. The last time we'd flown over it was sometime back in 2002, on a return flight from London. Unfortunately cloud cover prevented us from seeing down back then, but this time, this time all was clear for a large stretch of the cut across Greenland Land and Ice mass. From up high, those glacial massess sure did seem to be filled with an unusual array of dark blue waters. But my human eyes have not seen much history of Greenland form the air, so what the hell do I know right? Maybe not. We return to the states and what's one of the first things I read in catching up on news and tidbits that happened over the 5 months we were gone, besides the many month oil spill in the gulf? How about this 'Biggest ice island for 48 years breaks off Greenland' ?''

Or how about the day before this over in Pakistan 'Pakistan's flooding sweeps south'. 

Worst monsoon rains in 80 years...

via BBC

If Climate Change were a fiction then we must be dreaming up the seeming correlation between all these events and our impact on the world. Sure, that must be it right? We all want to live in times of fear and uncertainty, right? Isn't that why we do stupid things like believe in Banks that can never fail and economies of scale that make businesses to big to fail and oh...wait, maybe that's a poor analogy. Or maybe we're on to something, maybe we need to take heed of all of these stories and records and take individual action towards creating our own positive impacts on the small scale? Perhaps we can all be Paw Jo's of the world, maybe not in turing back-to-the-land per se, but in paying attention and nurturing the ecology around us and taking care of the nature of which we are. 

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Number one thing that has been most challenging in returning from a long trip abroad and then diving right back in to New York City has been a latent resistance to the return of the pace of the city life. And I remember swearing to each other that we didn't want to return to that pace when we came back, but here we are and I think we are moving even faster and busier than before. How does this always happen and why does it feel right and ok this time?

Off and on I've been trying to answer these questions and finally it's hit me right in the face. As I sit here reflecting on yesterday's connections made and connections missed. When we stepped out of our routine of daily life we were able to give ourselves an opportunity to really look at how fortunate our lifestyle is and how much more we can do in this world if we take it as an opportunity rather than a right. We have re-discovered the greatness of the ideals and underlying belief system that swells from the shores of this country. Every individual impacts the world, but we have built a unique civilization whose very existence and progress has shaken the foundation of belief systems around the world. And we can choose to move through life and fail to pay attention, fail to think about and react to our interactions and fail to impact the world in a positive way or we can step up and do something with that opportunity to shape our influences in powerful and positive ways because we are these fortunate individuals that have transformed a few powerful ideas into a way of life.

Throughout our trip, everyday balanced on our connection to others and their individual actions. We were dependent on strangers and they carried us through. Strangers became life-long friends, friends and family grew closer than ever before by following our story on the internet from abroad as we hurtled further and further physically away. This would not have been possible if we were from another time or another place. So, in our return to the busy-ness or business of this American life we return with a renewed sense of purpose and this propels us faster and faster every day. No longer are we fearful of the busy-ness of the city or the world, rather we are driven to make more and more connections which pushes us that much closer to our eventual undoing where it all will just seem like a flash in the pan.

But will we be just a flash in the pan? I hope not. And as we lay back in our warm and cozy bed this morning we talked about our dreams of the night and of the future as the changes in light pushed me out of bed and into the kitchen where a cup of hot coffee was minute a away. Fresh water flowed into the electric kettle, energy thrust it up to a temperature that would give water the unique properties that forced open my eyes and excited my body and mind such that I had to sit down and share a few reflections from the road less traveled by us and more considered.

And so we let go a bit of the resistance to life threatening and unyielding pace and leap forward to new ideas and connections and are thankful for the ones that brought us to places we'd never imagined and then carried us home. We take another look at fall light and leaves as they both drift and blend into winter and recognize that we will take what we can get and make the most of it.

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Since we've returned from our travels abroad, it's been a whirlwind month of reflection, visiting friends and planning our future. One of the main reasons we set out into the great blue yonder was to gather inspiration for a few ideas that have been rumbling around in our heads. We wanted to visit people on the other side of the world who had similar values or intentions. While we were on our way, Tracie's sister Sannie emailed us and reminded us that since we were headed to Hong Kong we should really try and meet up with King and Margaret, Tracie's aunt and uncle's close friends. Sannie gave us the number and while we were there we called them and asked if they wanted to meet up.

As you know , one thing led to another and King and Margaret pointed us in the right direction for several people to talk to and visit with during our trip. They understood our intentions for the future and got our vision. Like that they put us in contact with Lejen Chen, the Bagel Lady, in Beijing, China. They told us we should look her up when we got there and Margaret even sent off a polite introduction via email. But Beijing was a long way off from Hong Kong. So, we didn't move too much towards setting up our meeting. We kind of put it off. And that's too bad, because we only had one lovely day with her. One day was enough, however, to give us a new perspective of what Beijing could be.

We'd been down and out on Beijing. Hating it, in fact. It's huge. Everything is built to intimidate and control. It all started with the Forbidden city some 600 years ago. To give you an idea of how huge it is, we spent a whole morning there and we only got to the interior wall of the palace - we didn't even make it to the living quarters. And there are wide expanses of granite or slate pavement that batters your knees and sears your brow. I can imagine a little bit how it must have felt to foreign dignitaries that arrived at the gates. Awestruck is an understatement.

But there is this emptiness to Beijing's scale and growth. While the history is there in the Forbidden city and other sites around the city, it's also crumbling as you head to the metro. Vast blocks of centuries-old neighborhoods are leveled while you sleep off your dumplings from the evening before. We wondered if there was any kind of cultural preservation. It seems that everyone and everything is all about making the fastest buck. Nothing slows down. Its all crushing, bearing down on you, hard to breathe.

Then we received a phone call from Lejen, that she was back in town and was going to be available one of the days we had left before we headed out of China. So Tracie put her head down and mapped out a course of action for navigating the Beijing bus system to make our way out past the 3^rd ring road where Lejen's restaurant, Mrs. Shanen's, sits.

Interior Dining Room at Mrs. Shanen's

It's in a mostly expatriate area. I mean, who else would be looking for a bagel? Not the Chinese you'd expect, but she has built a local clientele base, some of whom have “pioneered different preparation techniques” from frying to dredging in sesame paste and butter¹. The restaurant is a roadside cafe sitting out in desolate surroundings amidst new outcroppings of expat gated communities and industrial parks. Never judge a book by its cover or its location.

The dining room was one of the most relaxing we set foot into in China. She's definitely created an oasis in the middle of a desert. It has the vibe of quiet and ancient meditation while still maintaining a upbeat contemporary European look. Step in from the road to fresh lemonade, Arnold Palmers, grass fed burgers, chocolate cake, bagels, Fair Trade coffee and delectable Chinese teas.

Lovely tea sets rest during a lull on the service station shelves

Tracie's Lemonade

My Arnold Palmer

There is nothing like stepping out of the Beijing heat into a quiet American style cafe. Forget the culture shock of China, welcome to the culture shock of little America in China. But Mrs. Shanen's and Lejen Chen are beyond satisfying an expatriate community in China. They are also enriching a culture that seems lost and a partial reflection of what it could be. Lejen has found a way to fill a need and spread little flowers while she does it, figuratively and literally.

Mrs. Shanen's is one part of Lejen Chen and her husband Shan En ventures into bringing wholesome good food to Beijingers, expats and locals alike. She launched the bagel factory back in 1996 and has grown the cafe and now is successfully running an organic farm and CSA to boot. As we left the cafe to go visit the farm I remarked on a room off to the side that seemed setup just for kids and she said “Yea, we're thinking of turning that into a pizza joint...maybe.”

1In the Industrial Back Alleys of Beijing, a Little Bit of Gotham, Any Wu, April 19, 1999 Nytimes. http://www.nytimes.com/1999/04/18/business/business-in-the-industrial-back-alleys-of-beijing-a-little-bit-of-gotham.html?scp=1&sq=lejen%20chen%20bagels%20in%20back%20alley%20of%20beijing&st=cse

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What is a börek? Put simply, it is a savory pie: a filling, usually of cheese or meat, is sandwiched between sheets of thinly rolled-out dough. It is baked, or pan-fried, or deep-fried, which allows the ingredients to combine in a delectable marriage as the filling melts, blending to a creamy consistency inside a crisp casing of pastry.

“Simply Sensational”, Berrin Torolsan. p. 346. Istanbul: The Collected Traveler: An Inspired Companion Guide. Ed., Kerper, Barrie.

I couldn't really have described it any better. Some mornings we'd smell the rich scent of börek wafting down the alleys and we had to find our way to the nearest börekçi (shop that specializes in making börek) and fill up on an entire bag's worth of them. They're best when freshly made – when you bite into them, there's a crisp airiness that I still dream about. I was especially fond of the cheese and spinach ones, but there were plenty of other fillings like ground lamb or potatoes or straight cheese. They're made from yufka, thin unleavened sheets of dough similar to phyllo, so their shapes and sizes could vary widely. We saw cigar shaped ones, puffy ones, triangle ones – each börekçi had its own specialties.

In Eskesehir we were quite lucky to try çiborek, a variant on börek that apparently came from the nomads in Central Asia. They seem like a cross between a flaky pastry and a dumpling, filled with minced beef and onions, and comes burning hot out of the fryer. When we bit into it, meaty-fragrant juice leaked out and scalded our tongues but at the same time we couldn't eat them fast enough because they just tasted so good.

çibörek - eating nine of these is considered a normal portion!

Another savory bread-based snack that we encountered was gözleme. It's a thin dough that's rolled out by hand and cooked on a saç, a convex shaped griddle/oven with a flame underneath. Yufka is also traditionally made on a saç, but yufka is much thinner while the gözleme dough is more the consistency and thickness of lavash.

woman making gözleme by hand

Once the dough is almost done cooking, fillings such as cheese and spinach are placed in the center and the dough is folded up to contain the filling. By far the best one we had was at Bugday's organic market in Istanbul on Saturdays, as it was made freshly by hand. We found gözleme at every café in every bus station and town we visited, but often they had been sitting there for hours and were rather soggy. So we recommend a trip out there to try some.

gözleme

Bugday organic market
in its 4th year!
Saturdays
Sisli neighborhood, Bomonti, close to old Tekel Beer factory

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http://www.flickr.com/photos/emptyhighway/4836106788/in/set-72157624597559216/
Bread and Water

It's quite common to eat multiple types of bread in one meal. For instance, we always received a basket of white bread at the beginning of the meal to eat with mezeler we ordered. Then the meat dish, such as a shish kebab, arrived  on a bed of lavash. And to up the starch even higher the meat dish was almost always accompanied by rice AND potatoes. While we volunteered on the farm we shared breakfast and lunch with the field workers, and I always thought there was no way that these teenage girls could eat that much bread. They almost always finished it, and when they didn't they were very careful to save any leftovers. One girl even kissed the lavash and put it back reverently into her lunch bag. Turks take their bread very seriously.

I also have to mention the delicious variant on pide, lahmacun. Lahmacun is pide dough rolled out very thinly with minced meat, parsley and spices on top, and can be ordered mild, spicy or very spicy. Ideally it's then put into a very hot brick oven and comes out with an airy and crispy crust. Lots of people like to refer to it as Turkish pizza, but I think it's something else entirely. Also, be wary of places that don't roll out the dough thinly enough or have a weak oven. The lahmacun just ends up being chewy rather than crispy and can be a letdown. We experienced the best lahmacun in a random outlet mall in the suburbs of Eskesehir so you never know where you might find quality places.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/14degrees/374302970/
photo credit: Robert Thomson

As far as I can tell pide and lavash are quite similar and made in a similar manner. I've done some research and haven't been able to come up with a definitive answer. Lavash comes in large sheets, while pide is smaller and perhaps a bit thicker. The method of cooking them may also differ, as lavash may be made in a tandır oven or on a saç, a convex shaped griddle, while pita seems to be made only in a tandır.

Simit is another type of bread that is available everywhere but seems to fall into its own category. Visually it looks like a cross between a pretzel and a bagel, as it's a ropy twisted ring, with a more matte finish and usually covered with sesame seeds.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/umami88/2345284131/
photo credit: umami88

It has a subtly sweet flavor, probably from the dip in molasses water it gets so that the sesame seeds stick. It has a light chewy texture that lends itself to being eaten with honey or jam. Simit is eaten with or for breakfast, or can be eaten as a snack at any time or with çay (tea). We ate a lot of these because they were cheap, tasty and filling, and whenever I started to even get a craving for one I inevitably found a simit vendor on the corner. In Istanbul you'll see simit vendors up at the crack of dawn with piles of simit on a giant tray, or wheeling glass-sided carts filled to the brim with simit. There's even a chain bakery called “Simit Palace”!

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One aspect of Turkish food that I fell in love with is the meze (plural: mezeler). Mezeler consist of small plates of food, similar to tapas, that are eaten at the beginning of lunch or dinner as appetizers, or can make up the entire meal if enough dishes are ordered. At many restaurants, the waiter wheels out a cart loaded to the brim with dishes wrapped in saran wrap for you to ogle, prod and salivate over.

at Değirmen Restaurant

I've watched Turkish families hotly debate over which dishes to order and grill the waiter about which dishes were the freshest and considered the house specialties. Other restaurants have the hot and cold mezeler behind a counter with a server dedicated to dishing them out.

I love eating both small amounts of food and a wide variety in one sitting, so mezeler suit me perfectly. There is literally a galaxy of mezeler that fall into various categories. For instance, the zeytinyağli mezeler are any combination of vegetables and beans that have been cooked in olive oil. Borlotti beans (known as barbunya) cooked in olive oil, black eyed peas cooked in olive oil, eggplant cooked in olive oil, mild peppers cooked in olive oil, hot peppers cooked in olive oil,  green beans cooked in olive oil – you get the idea. And usually garlic, chopped tomatoes and a dash of lemon juice rounded out the dish, but additional spices aren't really used at all.

Let's talk ingredients. Parsley and/or mint is ubiquitous, not just as garnish but as a featured component. One meze that I couldn't get enough of was a salad that was mostly chopped parsley, walnuts, shaved hard sheep cheese, and a dressing that was probably grape molasses. I loved it so much that I ordered it three nights in a row! Many mezeler consist of a thick, sour yogurt mixed with vegetables such as eggplant or purslane with a bit of garlic. Other dishes use bulgur, a cereal made most commonly from durum wheat and probably most familiar to Americans as the main ingredient in tabbouleh. We encountered bulgur in cig kofte, a long patty that can be made with raw meat, tomato paste and spices but that we usually found in a vegetarian version.

Kiriktabak – our first lunch in Istanbul with many mezeler.

On my plate, from 9 o'clock moving counterclockwise: cig kofte, dolmas (stuffed grape leaves), ispanakli borek (flaky savory pastry filled with spinach), yogurtlu semizotu (purslane salad), mixed salad, eggplant and lentils, and beans cooked in olive oil(center).

On Wayne's plate, from 9 o'clock moving counterclockwise: cig kofte, roasted potatoes, kofte, patates salatasi (potato yogurt salad), some kind of mini kofte, dolmas, tabbouleh.

Purslane salad (Yoğurtlu Semizotu)
Purslane is everywhere in Turkey, it literally grows like a weed, and Turks consume massive quantities of it. It sort of looks like a succulent, has a crisp texture and a vaguely lemony, fresh flavor. Reputedly purslane is also one of the healthiest vegetables you can eat, with ridiculous amounts of omega-3 fatty acids and loads of other vitamins. You can often find it in farmers' markets in the summer, and $2 or $3 will get you a huge bunch.

This is one of the easiest salads to make. These are just general guidelines, it totally depends on how much purslane you're using and the consistency of the yogurt.

- 1 bunch of purslane
- ½ cup - ¾ cup of thick plain yogurt (Greek yogurt if you can find it)
- a few tablespoons of olive oil
- 1 clove of raw or roasted garlic, minced
- squeeze of lemon juice
- salt and pepper to taste

Chop off the roots and remove any unhealthy leaves. Pick off all the tender stems about 3-4” in length, leaves intact. Wash the purslane in cold water and dry.  Break up the purslane with your fingers or a knife into smaller sections and put into a bowl. In a separate bowl, mix the other ingredients. Pour this dressing onto the purslane. Mix well and serve cold.

A few restaurants in Istanbul where we enjoyed mezeler:
Ficcin
It's located in a narrow alley off of Istiklal, the main street in Beyoğlu. Atmospheric and homey feeling at the same time. Definitely sit out on the street and peoplewatch.
[212] 293 37 86 - 245 48 58
Kallavi Sok. No:13/1 - 7/1 Beyoğlu / iSTANBUL

Galata Kiva Han
This restaurant is in the plaza surrounding the Galata tower. We walked into this place because it started pouring outside. We expected it to be dumbed down and touristy, but we were pleasantly surprised with the quality, variety and creativity of the mezeler. We liked so much that we went back for dinner another night!
0212 292 98 98

Çiya
This restaurant is across the water in the neighborhood of Kadikoy. Even if it wasn't our favorite, we enjoyed the ferry ride at sunset to get there.
Tel: (216) 330 31 90 - Faks: (216) 349 19 02
Caferaga Mah. Güneslibahce Sk. No:43 Kadiköy - Istanbul

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It's been a little over two weeks since we returned from our trip. The first few days were a bit cloudy in our heads. Despite transitioning to the west by way of Ireland and Germany coming home was not an easy thing to do.

For weeks now this question had been running through our minds: "Now what?" But the thing is, coming back to one of the busiest cities in the world is an adventure unto itself.

Sure we have big plans and we'll continue to write and hint at what we're working on in the "real world" pipeline but our immediate thoughts when we landed were: What will we need to do when we get home to get it ready to live in? When can we get the cat from Tracie's Mom? What is there to eat? And who's around in the dog days of summer to say hello?

Once we made the epic trip from JFK, via the Airtrain and then the A train, we were spit out onto the boiling hot pavement of Fulton Park. When we'd left over five months ago the trees were barren of leaves and the ground was slick with slush and black ice. The green enveloped us and welcomed us home.

It was Thursday and the neighborhood was fairly quiet. I mean why the hell would anyone in their right minds be out in this weather? It was a sit under the shade and sip an ice cold lemonade kind of day.

We lurched down our fair streets and found our landlord and upstairs neighbor Tim and our neighbor from across the street Ray hanging out on the stoop.

We were home. Despite the adventures it was a good feeling seeing friendly familiar faces. Ray and Tim were almost as excited as us to have us back. We spent a little time catching up and headed inside to assess the afternoon's work ahead.

Tim had opened the windows and turned on the fans to welcome us as I thought he might and we dropped our stuff and started our visual inventory. No matter what saint you find to stay in your furnished apartment you'll find things get joggled around. It felt weird. It was clean. It was still our stuff, but someone had definitely lived there these past months. My thoughts went to how it must have felt on his first day, perhaps not the same but similar.

How do we accumulate so much shit in our lives? As we looked around we saw all the things we left behind and glanced over at these bags we'd dragged around and we couldn't help but be a dumbstruck. And then to think we stowed more shit downstairs? Why do we hold to such things? We would have to sort that out later.

We were hungry. The phone rang and our friend Stepha said she'd be in the neighborhood. Stepha dropped by a short bit later a saved us from the horrorfest of unpacking with some Mexican ice pops and seltzer water. To keep the Mexican theme rolling we headed over to a little taqueria under the Broadway underpass in Bushwick.  Fat and sassy we headed home our late lunch sent us back by just after five pm we had to stay up and readjust to the time change.

The next few days were a flurry of cooking, unpacking, emailing, unpacking, cleaning, and reorganizing. Saturday we headed over to Tracie's Mom's to stay the night and bring back Dexter.

We spent the night there, he seemed stand offish but was laying with us in the morning. We noticed he was breathing a little funny, we thought he was upset. Anthropomorphizing we told ourselves later. We brought him home Sunday and his breathing got worse as the day went on and before we realized he was sick he was close to already gone. He struggled with us as we tried to take him for help and passed away in Tracie's lap in Tim's car.

RIP 'Lil Guy

It was a shock for us. The little guy was an anchor to our world back home. He was the tie that bound many of our family conversations. He was like the photos of us that everybody preferred over the stories of our travels. To come back and have an empty house. We didn't know what to do. In fact I'm a little sad now just thinking about the empty house we are on the train back towards. No one to fend off at the door. It was a reality check to our reality check.

We gradually pulled ourselves together and headed off to the NOFA Organic Farmer's conference in Massachusetts the following weekend. We were determined to keep the momentum going from our trip. Keep hope alive. We are not stepping back into the work or die lifestyle that we have lived before we left. We came back to do something. We came back to take our lives back.

The conference was insightful we made some new friends and we headed off to Boston for a nice visit with friends and a wonderful book launch for a new friend Jeff Potter's "Cooking for Geeks". The conference, the time with friends and the hope in new success sent us back home inspired and ready. (Help support Jeff's book tour!!!)

Jeff signing the first book of the evening

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We've spoken with loads of people about Ireland and they all say “It's really green!” Having come off a week of traveling there and visiting with friends we can confirm the rumors are true, it is really green! Of course there is more to Ireland than shades of green, but one of the things that really drew me into the place while we were there was being surrounded by it all the time.

As you may have noticed a running theme in our travels, we really have utilized our friend and family network on this trip. Down to the wire it has been the case. We've moved legs of the trip around, changed direction, got new ideas about things to do, and really remained flexible. Well, we made friends with a lovely woman from Northern Italy named Alice on the Sustainability Study Trip in Thailand. Alice having read our post about us visiting Francesco in Italy dropped us an email saying how nice it sounded to visit with him again and it was a shame we weren't heading to Ireland on this trip as she had space and time at the moment to show us around a bit. Well, we emailed her right back and told her we probably could make it happen since we had recently finished our time on the farm in Turkey and were looking forward to a bit of a cooler climate.

Besides not putting Ireland on our original agenda, since it was geared towards mostly Asia based traveling, Ireland had never really crossed our minds as a place to visit. Way back I have Scottish roots, but as far as I can recollect, NO Irish. Tracie even remarked on our way back to Germany, that it had never really even crossed her mind as a place to travel. The thing we both knew was whenever Ireland has come up the recollection that it is a really green place always sends visions of rolling hills, spring rivers and frolicking sheep through the head. One month after scorching hot temperatures in Turkey and a “yes, please” wasn't so hard to come up with to Alice's invitation to come visit.

It turns out, Alice's boyfriend, Paul hails from a small West Cork Village and knows a crap load of fun and interesting facts about Ireland and Cork County, where they live and we spent the bulk of our time traveling around with them. You could spend weeks just in Cork County and not see or do everything that sounds even a hint interesting.

Alice and Paul know the skinny on all things about food in the area and in just a few days time, in between seeing the countryside and stuffing our faces we were starting to feel that the country was so rich it deserves another three or four visits. “Mom would love Ireland.” became the mantra. So, Mom we have to come back with you and show you around.

Early on in our travels Tracie's sister Lannie had sent us a link from The New York Times' website about an interesting sounding farm and restaurant called Ballymaloe, “Reclaiming Ireland’s Culinary Heritage, One Roast Lamb or Sponge Cake at a Time”. 

Ballymaloe and Darina Allen are to Ireland what Alice Waters is to the United States both have all but single handedly lead the movements in their respective country to save the food cultures of their countries. Alice lead the flag and brought Carlo Petrini's Slow Food movement to the U.S. And Darina heads it up in Ireland.

We skimed over the article and said amongst ourselves, “wow, cool...too bad we don't know anyone in Ireland...” and headed into Singapore and then Thailand. Eventually, over conversation at lunch or dinner one day, Ballymaloe came up and we asked her if she knew where it was. She said it was near her home in Ireland. We put that in the back of our mind and somehow, when Alice suggested we come visit, it came rushing back. Ballymaloe was one of the last places we visited with Alice, but one of our favorites.

It's not the easiest place to find. Signs appear and dissapear and the Irish roads are meant to be navigated only by locals like Paul. But Paul was bringing home the bacon and Alice an Italian ex-pat and two Americans were left to find our way. When we were nearly there we took an accidental detour to explore the glimpse of what appeared to be a lighthouse and seashore rising up out of the barley fields. We head down the road to investigate.

The Beach of Ballycotton

After being mesmerized by the lovely view of the shore and lighthouse, we felt a bit lost so we pulled over and asked a young man working in a lawn near the road. He sent us in the right direction and after another stop and request for directions we were on our way.

The road down to the Ballymaloe House, restaurant and cafe took us through a long green abutted driveway, over a small cattle guard into view of the Ballymaloe House a Norman Castle from around 1450. A Castle as a restaurant and hotel overlooking a stunning view of Ireland's rolling hills and dales. Not a bad place to spend a few days or share a nice lunch and with grumbling bellies we set off for their cafe, tucked behind a general store loaded with Irish goods and a cook's dream of culinary tools and resources.

The menu, a chalkboard of the days specials hadn't even been posted and we sat patiently, placing our drink order, to see what delights awaited. Just behind our table the counter struggled with a load of homemade goodies. Alice settled for a sampling of those while Tracie and I opted for more savory options. Hers was a salad of Smoked Mackerel over a bed of freshly picked field greens and mine was the most elegant rendition of a quiche, a Leek and Cheddar tart, I've ever had. That's right Thomas, Ireland has kicked your ass.

My tart quivered with Irish cream, milk and the finest farmhouse cheddar with rustic perfectly braised stalks of leeks careening into every fork full. At Ballymaloe, I could tell, it's all about the ingredients. I was delighted to see Chef Keller's Bouchon cookbook resting in their bookstore and chuckled to myself seeing how the finest and freshest ingredients could trump even the most revered chef's attempt at the best quiche in the world.

Tracie's salad held forth more subtle surprises as the flakes of locally caught and smoked mackerel crumpled into the greens which were delightfully evenly dressed and seasoned simply with oil and lemon. Alice's sampling of desserts disappeared before I had a chance to nibble so we settled for a few for ourselves.

As usual my first pick was ordered by my lovely wife so I settled for simplicity in a cake, a cupcake topped with a fresh field strawberry. Coming from the home of the cupcake battlefields brought a little bit of New York back as I sunk my teeth into a slightly drier than I'd have preferred attempt of a vanilla cupcake. Perfection in one thing a day is good enough for me and the best cupcakes back home would be there waiting to fill the void left that day. Tracie's apricot vanilla custard was as much a quivering success at a pie as my own tart and we all left with full bellies and warm hearts as we headed down the road to check out the Ballymaloe Cookery School, Garden and Farm.

In Ireland, signs lie. Ours said that the farm and cookery school were only a two miles down the road. The road was a narrow meandering jaunt that was peppered with cars swerving to avoid us as we tried our best to stay out of there way. Tracie and Alice plodded ahead as I lingered behind snapping off a few nice looks at the farms and fields that smashed us up against the road.

By the time we reached our destination, we had taken on the dull headed worn fatigue of those that have bitten off more than they can chew and grabbed a bit to drink before we paid the small fare and headed to explore the lovely English styled gardens and impressive organic greenhouse.

Legs tired from the “two mile walk” we managed a ride from a lovely couple visiting from Los Angeles, U.S.A. And winced and held our breath as the gentleman meandered from left to right forgetting from time to time that the Irish drive on the left. As oft repeated, we said to ourselves as we drove away “My mom would really love Ireland.”

Ballymaloe House, Farm and Cookery School

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You could have just came out and told us ...

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One of the reasons why we picked Turkey as one of the countries on our itinerary was the fact that it has such a rich and long history. Wayne and I both have wanted to see classical ruins for a long time, and then we realized, duh, there are plenty of classical ruins to visit in Turkey! It's super close to Greece and was part of the Roman empire.

After we ended up at Değirmen farm, we discovered that we weren't far from Ephesus (Efes in Turkish – also the name of Turkish beer!). It was the second largest city after Rome during the Roman empire and was an important trading port. It had an enormous amphitheater, a network of aqueducts, large public baths and a beautiful library. After a few centuries though the city fell from prominence because the river gradually silted up the harbor and it became unusable. The history of Ephesus and the amount of remains that have been dug up/restored seemed quite impressive, so Wayne and I put on our tourist hats and joined the crowd.

The amphitheater. This place is ridiculously huge. And yes you can hear people murmuring on the stage rather clearly.

A view from about halfway up the steps in the amphitheater, looking out down the avenue. The port would have been farther into the distance. The sea is now about 5 kilometers away from Ephesus.

This amphitheater is the perfect place to let your kids loose.

Gratuitous cat photo. Like everywhere in Turkey, Ephesus was filled with cute cats.

Picturesque classical ruins ftw!

Me admiring the marble columns. Corinthian, methinks.

The drama of the library. Did you know that it's situated in such a way that it maximizes the amount of morning light that streams in through the doorways to aid in reading?

Cool ceiling in the library.

Us in front of the library. Notice the amount of clothing I was wearing. Yes, that much clothing will keep you cooler in the heat. Wearing short shorts and a tank top will only help you get completely burnt.

Arches.

Beautiful mosaics. I love mosaics.

We spent about half the day there, I would have liked to have stayed longer to sketch a bit but the sun was just too brutal. Definitely bring a lot of water, a hat and sunscreen. If you can find a good reputable guide it would be worth the cost, but from the bits and pieces we heard from English-speaking guides they seem few and far between. In addition, taking a dolmuş from Selçuk to Ephesus is quite easy and costs only 3 lira one way per person, just ask at the main bus station.

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To make çay, a double boiler consisting of two stacked pots of differing sizes is employed. The bottom larger pot is filled with water and brought to a boil. Some of the boiling water is poured into the smaller pot on top that contains the tea leaves. The heat is kept high as the tea leaves steep and the water continues to boil. After a few minutes this thickened tea liquor is poured into small tulip-shaped glasses, and the strength of the tea can be adjusted individually by adding more hot water from the bottom pot. Çay is served extra hot, always in small glasses, a ceramic dish and a spoon, with sugar cubes on the side, and never with milk.

People drink çay all the time. At five in the morning on the farm we'd be greeted by the clink-clink-clink of a spoon being stirred in a glass in our next door neighbor's kitchen. You can while away the hours on a one lira glass of çay in a cafe while playing backgammon with a friend or reading the paper, we saw scores of old men in every town passing time that way. We'd drink it with lunch, breakfast and dinner. We'd drink it at in between times, and were offered it every time we visited someone's house. We'd watch men with trays filled with those tulip-shaped glasses weave their way through the crowd in the bazaar in Istanbul, delivering it to each shop. We drank it (yes, in tulip-shaped glasses) on the twenty minute commuter ferry past the Golden Horn while watching the sun set.

To be honest I didn't get it at first. I thought, “it's so hot, why would you want to drink tea?” And the first time I tried it, I wasn't thrilled with the taste. Because it's been steeped for so long the tea ends up being rather bitter. And ran counter to everything the tea lady in Beijing told us about making tea! But çay is everywhere, you can't avoid it. Two sugarcubes seemed to mellow it out a bit, and after a while we got addicted. It's actually refreshing when it's hot out, and I always looked forward to having some çay with a meal, especially breakfast. (Have we talked about Turkish breakfast yet? Bread, cheeses, olives, honey, cucumbers tomatoes, boiled eggs? Still my favorite.) Perhaps we also got hooked on the ritual as well. We'd get mesmerized by the clinking of the spoon and watching the sugarcubes dissolve into the tea. It's a social glue, a way to kill time while waiting for the dolmuş, stretching out dinner just a bit more, an excuse to people watch, a moment of relaxation.

We ended up liking çay so much that we stuffed an entire “crystal” tea set into our backpack. Next time we'll have to figure out how to bring one of those double boilers home.

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Ten days after arriving at Değirmen Farm, the day we are leaving in fact, we take a walk with Tarik, the farm manager, and the agricultural students. The afternoon was a hot one and we had been lounging around since lunch hoping to see something else besides the hours we had already spent toiling in the fields. And it was the hottest time of the day, too hot for our old bodies we decided. Much to our delight our hopes would bear fruit.

I had a suspicion that Tarik and the group were spending the majority of the day talking about techniques and methods used on the farm because after we came back to the staging area. We had seen Tarik and the students returning from the fields with a bag of soil, so after lunch I asked them what the bag of soil was all about.  

Turns out that the group had spent the morning learning about how Tarik tests and monitors the soil and the bag of soil was to be taken to the University for analysis. We didn't learn how Tarik tests his soil or what the group learned as a whole that day as our Turkish and their English just weren't that good. But it got me thinking I could at least tag along on the rest of their excursions that day and see what I could gain from watching. When I saw the group head to the fields I knew it was our last chance.

We headed out to the vegetable fields that are just beyond the staging barn (draw a map of the farm). We had been to this area of the farm a few times. We'd harvested zucchini (kabak) and cherry tomatoes there just a few days before. This field sits between another vegetable field, divided by a row of fruit and nut trees  to the left (southwest) and grapevines and fig trees to the right (northeast). The rows that we harvested were between what looked like rows of vegetables gone to seed and weeds to the left and beyond the fruit trees and other vegetable field and the fig trees to the right.

One day when we'd nearly exacerbated the supply of zucchini from the main weeded rows I noticed that there were some in the weeds. I poked my head and hands in there and retrieved a nice one and noticed that there were other plants mixed in. It wasn't the usual organized group of vegetables that I'd become accustomed to. I saw tomatoes, eggplant and melons. I thought they were abandoned and put it in the back of my mind to ask about it when I found a chance. The Turkish beckoning of “Gel! Gel! Wine!” turned me back from further investigations that day. So, when we headed directly into that field with Tarik and his students I got excited.

Up until that moment I had started to lose faith that the farm wasn't interested in finding alternative ways of growing vegetables and that they were primarily focused on increasing yields of their organic fields from some fairly traditional and conventional practices. While Değirmen Farm is certified organic and obviously following biological ideas and processes for raising fruits, vegetables, grains and animals,  they sow large fields of the same vegetable. They have nice organized rows and try to maintain that through tilling, hoeing and weeding. They don't really use straw to cover the earth. They irrigate all their rows with drip hoses. The use lots and lots of heavy machinery. They use hired hands that they work very very hard and I doubt pay very much.  It is a 300 Hectare farm. I just counted 103 fruit and vegetables that they grow on the farm and that doesn't even include the products they produce from those.

Backbreaking Work

What they grow...

In general, while in awe of their production output, I was starting to think they weren't looking or researching into any of the methods that we had seen in use or read about in theory during our travels. I was getting judgmental and thinking that our visit was never going to yield us any new information about organic farming. I was thinking that was it was a nice reality check on what the work on a farm can really be like, it isn't at all like anything I would want to do myself. Nor will it ever be, but at least it could use some ideas I cared about.

Then Tarik started picking tomatoes and passing them around. Not ten feet away were organized staked and tied traditional rows of cherry tomatoes, but right here in front of me was this snaking mess in four feet of weeds and somewhere in there he had plucked these delicious orbs and handed them to us. I bit into one. Sweet, sunny, tender, light snap, melting flesh. I looked at Ebru, one of the agricultural students, and said “It's better than those...” and pointed to the regular rows. She looked at me seeming to not understand. “The same...” she said. “No, they're different...taste again...hold on...” So, I walked over to the regular organic rows of tomatoes and found the ripest one I could find. Then I walked over to the buried treasures and found one of comparable size and color. I didn't have a knife so I bit it in two and handed her the rest. I did the same with the other. I told her to taste them side by side. She smiled. It is better. Wow.

Heirloom Varieties of Tomatoes

Hungarian Variety

This is what I'd been looking for. Did I have to go half away around the world to find it? No, in fact I'd first seen it back in California nearly 6 years ago at Bob Cannard's farm in Petaluma, California. Beautiful, perfect vegetables growing amidst the weeds. What a concept I'd thought back then and proceeded to spend the next six years cooking my brains out unable to find that delight in taste in the basic form again. So, finding it here in Turkey after several weeks of working in what seemed to be very conventional ways of growing organic vegetables I found my hope and delight again.

It turns out that this was Tarik’s experimental field. He was testing new seeds and new techniques, his lab to test ideas for future plans for the farm. Now we're getting somewhere, I thought. In this field he had at least eight varieties of tomatoes, several varieties of zucchini, coriander, melons, cape gooseberries, tomatillos, and more than I could find out from my limited Turkish. Tomatillos for God Sake I said. Tarik asked me what I knew about them and what we do with them and I tried my best to explain through our little phrasebook, his dictionary, and Ebru's limited translation ability how to make a Salsa Verde (need to write my recipe up for that eh?). He was growing something he didn't even know how to use. That is adventurous and the kind of risk taking that could lead to good things.

We walked back to the staging barn and I took a few photos of the varieties of tomatoes and Tarik began sorting them and splitting them open to seed save. Here we had the end of our trip and it wasn't by speaking the same language that we ultimately figured out some of the most interesting workings of Tarik and the Değirmen farm, it was simply by observing. Only by paying a little more close attention did we discover that even in Turkey farmers are looking for new and different ways of producing organic vegetables. No one thinks they have it right. No one settles for what they are doing. As a farmer, you are constantly looking at your fields, your yields and your practices to see what works.

Tarik Seed Saving

That's why it is so surprising to me still that all around the globe farmers continue to turn to big businesses and large universities to tell them what works in their fields. Sure they have lots of money and land to conduct vast experiments and intensive research on increasing yields. But the real knowledge comes from working in the field and paying attention to what you do and how the land responds to your actions and what yields the best result for your farm. After several weeks I hadn't seen any evidence of Tarik doing this in the fields of Değirmen farms. From the field workers’ perspective, their method was still very hard and intensive on the worker and the land. Working on the farm is backbreaking and seemed like there was no hope for change on this farm.

But after seeing that one test patch of vegetables I know Tarik is headed down a hopeful path. I can envision that there is hope even on large scale organic farms to do something different, something that can make healthier food, richer soil and open doors to new kinds of work on the farm.

Seeds drying

After our jaunt out to the fields Tarik let me walk through his seed saving storage area and showed me the variety of seeds that they saved and some of the Organic “products” they use on the vegetables to ward off pests and increase fertility. I saw a bottle that I'd seen dumped into a large water tank and sprayed on the fields earlier in the week and asked what it was. He rifled through his dictionary to no avail. He said a word that sounded sort of like “..neem?” Yes. Neem. Neem was and is used in some farm by nearly every organic farmer I've ever met. One farmer in Thailand chopped the leaves of the living plant and mixed it directly into the composting process to ward off pests.

Next, he handed me a cryovac'd package of pepper seeds and said “..you take, we trade...” Of course, even on a farm as large as the Değirmen farm, the farmer recognizes there are other ways, other seeds, other places and other things to learn and the best way to do that is by sharing and trading knowledge. Full circle from Jo's field in Northern Thailand we come back to the same idea, that diversity benefits from conservation and conservation arises out of the desire and will to see another species grow and thrive and foremost to pay attention to what is going on in the world around you. Farmers like these are saving the world one seed at a time.  We look forward to adding our seeds to the world.

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via guardian.co.uk

Lovely article by Jeanette Winterson that I came upon in the Observer mag that was sitting on the coffee table at our friends' house in Cork, Ireland. It's very timely as Winterson conveys so much of what we've been thinking about for the past few months on our journey and we are taking the advice at the end of the article to heart!

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At the same time, it gave us an opportunity to learn some Turkish, more than we had been since we had mostly been spending time with English speakers. And it gave us (and the farm team) endless hours of amusement, as we often tried to pantomime what we wanted to communicate. Best of all, our names were "Crazy" and "Wine" - at least that's how it came out whenever anyone was trying to get our attention. "Crazy! Gel!" meaning "Tracie! Come!" What's even more hilarious is that it was usually a teenaged girl saying it. And whenever they wanted to talk about me amongst themselves my nickname was apparently was "japon". Probably meaning "that asian chick who says she's american". Mehmet, one of the farmhands, would randomly shout across the field: "Wine!" to get Wayne's attention. I'd snicker but no one else got the joke.

We accepted our new names and tried to learn as many Turkish words as possible in the meantime. (Please don't ask us to conjugate any verbs.) We had probably the most crappy dictionary for doing farmwork seeing as our dictionary was actually a phrasebook geared towards tourists. At least Turkish is relatively straightforward to pronounce once you know the rules, it's very regular so at least we could sound it out from the phrasebook. We also used lots of hand and body gesturing to get our point across, and luckily one of the interns spoke enough rudimentary English that she was able to help us figure out more words. The teenaged girls were a bit more mischievous, as they'd try to get us to call each other names or tell each other to shut up when we had no idea what we were saying. We wised up pretty fast and turned the tables by telling them to "sus"! "Shut up"!

(can anyone tell us what "çani başi" means? I think that's how it's spelled, and means "how are you?". and apparently the reply is "başim tu çani". please correct us if we are wrong!)

One of my favorite Turkish phrases is "çok güzel". It literally means "very beautiful", but Turks say it all. the. time. Once we learned the phrase I could hear people saying it across a restaurant, on the beach, on the dolmuş, basically everywhere. It seems like you can use it to describe the taste of something, the beauty of a place, the weather, a girl (not boys though!!), an experience. And often a hand gesture consisting of putting your fingers pointing upwards, with your palm facing you, and your thumb touching your forefinger, accompanies the phrase. I think it's the earnestness with which it's said that really appeals to me.

çok güzel!

We even surprised other Turks with the amount of Turkish we had picked up. Last night we were trying to get back into the center of Kuşadası to move on to Selçuk but the dolmuşes kept passing us by because they were full. So just for kicks we put our thumb to hitchhike. And a car actually stopped! Three Turkish college students were super nice and gave us a ride into town. And as we were chatting and telling them about our experiences, we listed off a whole bunch of Turkish words for various fruits and vegetables and describing what the farm was like. ("çok sıcak" - "too hot" - was an all encompassing phrase.) They were like, "uh, wow you know a lot of random words in Turkish. And by the way why did you want to be on a farm??"

More about that next time.

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