Terra Madre

The week before last, Nicolas and I spent four days and nights in Turin, Italy as slow food delegates at the biannual Terra Madre event, what they call a "convivium". Terra Madre brings together over six thousand slow food producers, chefs and educators (primarily farmers) from over 140 countries, in order to share ideas about sustainability, about saving traditional food culture and even about saving the actual foods themselves that are close to becoming extinct. This year was apparently much more political than other years, the financial crisis highlighting how important small, diverse food producers and sustainable practices have become.

It was much more massive, moving and inspiring than I'd expected. Below is the front of the building that housed the "earth workshops" that we attended every day, as well as several hundred "presidio" food booths that sold and gave information about rare, sustainably produced foods from all over the world. Near to this building was another massive arena that housed the biannual Salon de Gusto, the world's largest food fair.

The food. Oh. my. The food. The food really needs its own post.
So, in this one I will stick to the non-edible. Terra Madre, for me, was about hope for the future. There were so many young, intelligent farmers who are energetically committed to this movement. It was also amazing to be surrounded by so many farmers from all parts of the world.

Below are examples of some of them.


These pictures were taken by Slow Food photographers other years and were shown on giant screens, along with many other pictures, during this year's opening and closing ceremonies.


















So many noble, proud, strong farmers - mostly young and mostly women.

Here were some of the first we saw upon arriving.
The opening ceremony was olympian in grandeur. One of the speakers called it the "olympics of food". There was a parade of flag holders, representing the 160 (?) countries who were present. These delegates, most dressed in their country's traditional costume, then sat on the stage for the rest of the proceedings. The African women, that night and throughout the week, were particularly majestic. There was lots of fantastic multi-cultural music, mostly performed by farmers, who also just happened to be musicians.

Then, there were the speakers. The founder of Slow Food, Carlo Patrini, was wise and paternal. With that Italian accent it wouldn't have mattered if he were talking about plumbing, I still would have been on the edge of my dizzyingly high seat. If you click on his name you can see him in action. The translation allowed us to hear how impassioned he is in his commitment to fighting world hunger and industrial/big business fraud. He talked about the irresponsible speculation that has led to even more world wide hunger and about the wall we have hit. We will now have to move towards a more rural economy. He believes that consumers are getting ready for the big choices and are looking for healthy, local, seasonal food. He talked about the delegates representing the farmers and villagers of the whole world and about how farmers would be the "main protagonists of the third industrial revolution." He is quite a leader.
One inspiring speaker was Alice Waters, the famous chef of Chez Panisse and a vice president of Slow Food International. She spoke of a need from the new U.S. President for "stewardship and nourishment." She proposed an organic vegetable garden on the White House lawn that is gardened by children. Another powerful woman, Vandana Shiva, also a Vice President of Slow Food International, spoke passionately about the Mansonto-GMO-seed issue that is crippling Indian farmers. You can see a short video of her detailing this atrocity here.

I got this picture of Carlo Petrini in the building where the workshops were held. He stepped away from his closely protective entourage in order to speak to an African farmer who was selling products he'd brought from his home (as were hundreds of other farmers) on the arena floor. Buying from these farmers allowed us an opportunity to meet them.

These African men behind me at the closing ceremony carried themselves like chiefs. The whole six thousand plus of us managed to do the wave during the closing ceremony. In this section, an Aussie farmer was seated next to a Mexican who was next to a Native American in full regalia. The Earth workshops were interesting, though not very revelatory. Most people that I talked to agreed that the best part of the four days was spent talking to fellow farmers while being served four course meals at our hotels, or making our way through the Salon de Gusto or on the floor of the building where so many farmers were selling their seeds, hand made crafts and textiles.

One of the workshops, about the bee crisis, stood out for me. Bee keeper after bee keeper, from Brazil, France, New Zealand, Mexico, England, Spain, and many places in between, stood up and expressed their horror about what has been happening to their hives over the past several years. The colony collapse disorder just keeps getting worse and they don't feel that the scientists are listening to what they are saying. They blame the newest pesticides, the loss of biodiversity and the gmos. Someone ought to write a book. ; )

Next installments - staying in a village called Benne Vagienna; and of course, the food.

Gratitude, Day Four - This Moment

Because I am as contradictory as the next woman, I am as grateful for the here and now - this moment - as I am for the changing of the seasons. If only I could always really be there for the moment while it is happening.

In this moment, Jesse is jumping on the trampoline with his friend Logan, who spent the night last night. I can hear them squealing in delight, filled with joy to be with one another, and without their brothers - for the moment.

While drinking this sip of strong, locally roasted organic coffee, with cream, I take in the very wide, walnut(?) antique desk that is holding this mac laptop. The ivory terrycloth robe I'm wearing is warm, and newly washed. There are too many other things on this desk. This desk was my mom's. oops, could be going back to other moments..

My gratitude for the present is deep because I know how much it can change, in the next moment and way before the end of the season.

Almost two years ago (well, Philomena and Chris' daughter passed on two years ago this week), two friends of mine lost their daughters. They got me to get the gratitude even more.

Diana, one of the friends, created this card about gratitude that I have sitting on my hallway table for all to see as they enter the house. I love the reminding factor of this beautiful picture and the moment it will forever be:

They may be thinking about a former moment when they lost their father/husband. They could be looking ahead to other loss. It sure doesn't look like it. I feel pretty convinced that they are just fully tasting, breathing and feeling the falling snow, together - in that moment. Thanks, Diana, for letting me share this here.

Many, many moments (720 to be exact, so far) have occurred between the writing of this post and the publishing. I got so wrapped up in this moment that I found myself almost late to pick up my father, at a garage twenty minutes away, which meant I had to get out of that robe and into a car with the boys, in a "NY minute"; and before I knew it, many good moments had taken me away from the one I wanted to be continuing here. I loved that timeless moment this morning. May I notice them all more.

Ms. Whit, our 102 year old friend

Ms. Whit and my father.

I have never met anyone more uncomplaining, resilient or good natured than Cornelia Whitten. My family met her when I was nine years old and my brother was six. The first thing he said to her was, "I think I shall call you Ms. Whit." She laughed and their bond was sealed. Over the years, she saw a side of Kenneth that the rest of us seldom saw and she appreciated him unconditionally. We visited her tonight - Nicolas, the kids, my father and I, to watch a Braves game with her (she never misses a game, even the ones on the west coast that go until 1am). She talked a lot about Kenneth. "Oh, that boy! He was just so special. So smart! I couldn't beat him at any game!" Tonight, when she kept repeating this (in one way or another) in the middle of conversations about the Braves or pizza or the dog, we all laughed.

But she's right. My brother was always really smart, funny and special but as a kid, I often couldn't get past our sibling issues (we had lots) to see it. As adults I have been so proud to call him my brother and been stunned by how much he has accomplished, on his own, just with his smarts. I am thinking of him a lot lately - both he and his wife, Naomi, in Australia, so positively hanging in there as they hope for at least five more weeks of hospital bed-rest before their baby arrives.

Ms. Whit is awfully special herself. I think that her patience and her ease with unconditional love may be her secret to such a long life. It isn't about her food habits. She has a cup of coffee every morning, often accompanied by a donut.