WWOOFin'

So, yeah, sorry it's been so long. But I'm tryin' to write a bloody dissertation, for sheep's sake. It's hard and it takes lots of thinking and writing. And blogging takes a certain kind of outward looking energy that i find it hard to muster sometimes.

Where've I been? Well, only the friendliest, prettiest part of the England, that's all. (No arguments here, please, it's subjective and I'm standing by it, admittedly having seen really very little of England.) I've been to Cornwall!

For my dissertation, I conducted interviews with farmers in Cornwall about their business, their markets and their perceptions or experiences in the NHS local buying programme. Basically, I'm looking at where public food procurement fits into the current situation of working small farms.

Now, Cornwall is a monster tourist destination--it's population doubles during the school holidays--which means its an expensive place to find lodging for an extended research project. So I WWOOFed it. There's this programme, used to be called Willing Workers on Organic Farms, now called Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms. (nice marketing decision, that name change, huh?). Anyway, you join and they send you a list of organic farms who will provide room and board in exchange for work. So, I found a woodland project that sounded nice (home brewing, permaculture, music and woodworking were listed in their blurb) and made myself a deal. Really, they told me they didn't have much going on and said I could just stay there, which was perfect since I had county-wide interviews to do. I ended up helping out by re-doing some compost systems, hanging out with the kids, and raking a community path (and some other bits and pieces of weaving willow and putting up hay), and I got to stay in this caravan for just over two weeks:



It was really great. Really. There was no running water or electricity, but there was a composting toilet and lots of friendly meals on the verandah down at their house. This was my view nearly every evening, and my "host family":

Yeah, now you're starting to get the picture. It was the perfect summer getaway. They also have these charming children, who have loads of energy and are endlessly talkative and love having stories read to them, especially Peter Rabbit stories.

It was great. And I walked and bused and trained all over the Cornish countryside, talking to great farmers and seeing the landscape. I couldn't have asked for better research conditions!

THE PARENT TRIP

Quick--before I leave--when I should be sleeping or packing or something--I'm gonna post some pics from my parents' visit. We went on a beautiful walk at Rhossili and Mewslade Bay on the Gower Peninsula:

We also visited a great castle in Chepstow, and went to the Museum of Welsh Life at St. Fagan, but I don't have any pictures of those handy.

And then we went to London and saw:

(Photo by Appalachia Mom)

(Photo by Appalachia Dad)

Bye, Mom and Dad. I had fun and I wish we had more time.

TERRIBLE BLOGGER

Okay, so I didn't finish the Czech hospital story. I will at some point. Unfortunately, I just haven't had time or been in the mood. My parents came to visit last week, and we wandered all around south Wales and London and had a grand ol' time and tired ourselves completely out and ate good food. I might even post some pictures sometime. They're home again now and I've spent this week getting things in order to go do my dissertation research in Cornwall.

So you see, I haven't time to tell you about evil Czech guy or friendly doctor pill hander outer because I'm leaving town tomorrow again. I'll be staying in a scrungy caravan in a barn (yep, it got kicked by a horse and is in the barn temporarily!) on a very cool farm that runs a community woodland and makes excellent rustic furniture. I'll also be going to the Liskeard Agricultural Show on Saturday and I can't wait--flower arranging and pie contests and little kids with animals in costumes. Oh yeah, and networking and learning things from the farmers. Then I'll spend the next 2-3 weeks interviewing farmers and suppliers about the hospital food procurement system as a viable market opportunity (or not).

I realize I am a terrible blogger and never tell you about travel adventures or school mate gossip or drinking stories or even commentary on the world around me. But really, this is just to say "hi, I'm still here" to those far away. I'll be more creative when I'm able.

Pomoc! Doktor, prosím. To je naléhavy prípad!

Okay. You try saying that when you have a severe migraine and you’re in the Kafka’s castle of all hospitals and the “information” man has his back to you watching TV and --and --and … (Breaks into sobbing)

But first, a little back story. (It may turn out to be a lot of back story, and may take more than one entry. We’ll see.) I left to meet Jason in Prague the morning after completing my last essay of the year for school. I had been working on essays for weeks, and was losing my mind a little. The day before I left, I’d had a headache coming on all day and managed to keep it at bay, but by 11pm or so it was pretty bad and I took my last sniffer medicine in order to be able to think clearly enough to finish the paper. I finally finished at about 1:30 am, packed, checked my lists, and slept for a few hours. Then I caught a cab to the train to the bus to the airport, and then I waited. The sign said my plane would be about 1/2 hour late. Then over the next four hours the voice over the intercom said repeatedly that information would be available in the next 1/2 hour. Finally we took off, four hours late. I was exhausted and headachy and cranky. But I got to Prague and got the bus to the subway to the tram to the hotel, reunited with my man and had some pizza in the smokiest pizza joint/bar ever. (But it was charming and the pizza better than I had dared hope.)

I adored our room at the pension. So perfectly preserved 1960’s. See:





And all for $45 a night!

But, the sheets at the pension smelled like chemical flowers, so I put t-shirts and towels over the pillow, and ducked into the storage trunk in the room to get a less-recently laundered duvet. I slept okay, but woke with a headache that must have been the result of the combination of stress, post-paper stress release (after-stress headaches are sometimes the worst), exhaustion, dehydration and laundry detergent poisoning. But, hey, I was in PRAGUE! With Jason! And it was beautiful!

Marcela, who runs the pension, is a bit manic, but in a cheery wonderful way. She came and asked if we wanted her mother’s special pancakes for breakfast, today only. We said yes. It was an amazing breakfast of bohemian crepes with homemade marmalade made by the pension owner’s German mother. Marcela, always paying attention to every detail at hyperspeed, asked if we were cold, having noticed that the other duvet was out. I explained, nervously, tentatively, that I was sensitive to chemicals and that I worried that the laundry detergent smell might cause a headache, and about the less-frequently laundered thing. She quick like magic jumped across the room, spun the key in the dresser and showed me the store of less-immediately cleaned sheets and pillow cases and said to help myself, saying in not bad, but still broken, English and pointing to her head that she had friends who had same. But since Jason had already been in Berlin for several days and needed some clothes washing, I suggested we just through in the pillowcases and run the wash without detergent and hang it all out to dry. Marcela immediately took the cases and the wash, and hung the duvet out to air for the day. What a relief. She reacted with no skepticism whatsoever and was helpful as could be. I’ve had much worse from many people.

So, off we went. To Old Town to see the clock and the buildings. There was a children’s bike race happening and they’d closed off a loop of roads and it was great. I was crying because my head hurt so bad, but smiling and laughing at how excited everyone was and all the cheering and the earnest biker determination. We wandered and made a dinner reservation, crossed the Charles Bridge, stopping to watch some excellent performers and look at the views. Then we headed up the hill to the castle to look around and have some lunch. By the time we got to the top, I was pretty well out of it with pain. We decided, somewhat desperately, to spring for the really gourmet fabulous restaurant I had read about when we got to the top, for a few reasons. It was quiet, no one was smoking and good food is my favourite thing and might cheer me up. Also, expensive food is more likely to have pure, simple ingredients and not the corn starch, corn syrup additives common in more processed foods (you may recall I am highly sensitive to corn products.) The place was lovely. We had extremely deferential waiters, which made me really aware of the whole American tourist in expensive restaurant paying for the right kind of treatment. Especially since I was in enough pain that I must have seemed really strange to them, with my wan smiles and quiet questions and water guzzling. The pear bisque with cinnamon gnocchi was incredible, and comforted me for a while. But the fish, though delicious, was more than I could handle. I ate what I could, mostly the potatoes, and gave Josh the rest. Then I tried to relax and not feel so awful. Without going into detail, just know that I got to taste the pear bisque again. But I managed to “lose my lunch” quietly in the loo and without causing a stir. Thank goodness. So, here we are. Not feeling better and across the city from our room. Jason being the most patient man there is. And I think that’s quite enough for one entry. More soon.

SUGARLOAFIN'



Yesterday we went to Abergavenny with our friends Phil and Oci and climbed Sugarloaf (Mountain? Peak? not sure). We had a grand ole' day in the sun, saw lots of sheep, a small herd of wild horses with tiny baby, several thousand beetles and lots of bracken. It was great. The guide in the tourist shop said they used to call it moderate, but they upgraded it because not everyone walks as much as they do and people thought it was hard. But we survived.



We had two lunch breaks because each couple had basically brought enough for everyone to have a lunch. For first lunch we had tabouli pita sandwiches and fruit and got eaten by bugs. For second lunch we had cheese and pickle sandwiches and watched the baby wild horse. Then we wandered back into town for dinner and some pub games, and caught the last train home.



The day was perfect, and it made me think of how short a time we have left here. Already many of my classmates have returned to their home countries or gone off somewhere to do their research. It's summer. Classes are over. And its our individual responsibility to get research projects designed, planned and carried out. I'm finding it hard to focus and wish for more sunny laughing days with my friends.

Csirkepaprikas, kérem



Tonight, my friends, we are celebrating the falling in of our dining room ceiling by attempting to make traditional Hungarian food. In Budapest, the food was, well, generally, kind of odd and not that great. BUT! I'm pretty sure that's because we failed to order what they tell tourists to order. They know what we'll like. They've been feeding us since 1991 or so. They know we'll like Chicken paprikas and goulash. I didn't try goulash, only because I had foolishly ordered venison and (canned, I'm pretty sure) mushrooms on our first night and we'd eaten too big a lunch to want dinner on our second afternoon. So, late lunch on Thursday(which also made us too full to want dinner later and so turned out to be the last real meal), and I ordered Chicken paprikas. And it was divine and creamy and paprika-y and served with deliciously carbohydrate-y nodleki (dumplings) and I was satisfied and could go home happy the next day. Jason, unfortunately, had wanted some decadent goose traditional thing, but they were out of it and he got something not nearly as good instead. But we were agreed on the heavenliness of the chicken paprika. And we live in the year 2006 and so when i got home I looked it up on the internet and got a recipe. We will try it tonight, and if it is not up to par, we will look up more recipes and try again until we get it right. And when we do, I'll make some for you, my dear Internet. And you will be mine forever.

And I will offer it to Jason in Hungarian, and he will say please and thank you in Hungarian. This, because for all my effort on the boat down from Vienna, everyone spoke English and i was unable to fully display my extremely limited, but awesome Magyar language skillz. Though I did make friends with the ferry boat man, who seemed impressed that anyone would even make the effort. Then he let me ride in the cockpit, or whatever you call it, when we passed the cool hilltop castle and everyone else was clamoring at the tiny doorway to get a view. (The regular windows were plexiglass and pretty scratched up.)

P.S. The photo is of the food in Budapest, not my version.

Travellers



leaving Prague and heading for Vienna.

LOOKS LIKE A COAL MINE IN HERE

Today the ceiling fell in. And no, that is not a metaphor. It did fall in. Or rather, it succumbed to the pressure of the water that was released when our not-too-bright upstairs workmen decided to cut the pipe that was sagging and clogged. When I ran up and told him water was leaking from two places in separate rooms, he went back to banging things hard and I called the landlord. While talking to her assistant, the leaks grew and got worse. I tried to explain while running around grabbing pots and tubs (we don’t have many, we’re only here for the year, being frugal, not knowing we’d need more for leaks) and trying to move stacks of paper as leaks snaked near them. Then, just as I stepped back out of the way (it was leaking a lot now), a huge piece of ceiling bigger than me fell in one chunk and wet plaster and black gunk crashed onto everything in our dining room. Including the stacks of paper that represent my entire second semester of work, reading material, printouts, notes and books. No one was hurt. A tiny bus driver drawing by Susannah, and dried tiny daffodils from Sara and Pete also came through without so much as a dent. Like magic. Unfortunately, my little flower shrinky-dink pendant by Corey was swept away by the same workman and his pal and I couldn’t find it in the rubble. I’m sad about that. Add it to the tally of meaningful jewelry lost this year: 1 cool chain ring by Web Crowell--left on the top of Mt. Snowdon after taking it off to apply sunscreen. 1 purple tile pendant bought from a street seller in Georgetown, Seattle and made into a necklace with nuts and bolts fixtures by Jason on the day I went camping with Cynthia--disappeared into the Soho streets of London. 1 wedding ring--lost in the autumn leaves in the park while gathering worm bin bedding and miraculously found again two days later). And now, 1 shrinky-dink pendant made and brought to me by Corey--lost in the rubble of the fallen ceiling in Cardiff. Don’t give me jewelry while I’m in Wales. I’ll just lose it.

It’s mostly cleaned up now, and they say they’ll come re-do the ceiling and fix the gaping hole on Monday morning. They’ve been driving me nuts all week. The pipe cutter guy whistles constantly and repetitively. They let their scary dog walk all over my herb garden yesterday. And they play loud stupid pop radio stations all day long. Oh yeah, and they start at 8am on the dot and are loudest in the morning. (I know, real people with day jobs are plenty up and moving by 8am, but we’ve been pretty proud to get and basically stay on an up-by-9:30 schedule and it treats us right.) And at the rate they’re going, I’m sure it will be all renovated and ready for the next renter about the time we’re ready to leave. Reminds me of the last summer I lived alone, when the landlord put brown paper over all the windows of my apartment and spend most of the summer slowly painting the house twice over. Oh well, who cares. I’m going to Cornwall soon enough.

BLUE DANUBE?

I've not yet gotten the mojo to write about our travels, but i thought I'd give you this picture of Budapest and the flooding Danube, cuz I kinda like it.



We loved Budapest. It's so big that it can't feel overrun by tourists, for one thing. And so beautiful, with hilly vantage points all over the city. I miss hills and mountains. Cardiff's rather flat.

BYE FOR NOW

Well, I'm nearly done. Another half hour, I'm hoping. And then no more coursework, possibly ever in my life, though, when I said that to my sister, she said it's hard to imagine that I won't ever take a class again. True enough. But I'm daydreaming now that those future classes will involve coming home with handmade art objects or sore muscles and not this tired brain I have now.

I'm off first thing in the morning on my glorious, long-awaited vacation. You won't hear from me for awhile, not that that's all that unusual.

A TINY WINDOW


Source: www.feasta.org

What follows is an excerpt of an email I sent to my poor longsuffering partner who is trying to have a fulfilling vacation in Berlin. I'm trying to write my final essay of my grad programme and am tying myself in knots, having read too much and thought too much to write a simple basic report on why local food is or is not good for sustainability. Here's the excerpt:

I'm reading an article now about how most of the rural development
farm-level entrepreneurial advocacy of local food (which is generally me in
a way) fails to address issues of social justice and the distribution of the
profits made on "premium" value-added products associated with local food
markets. Very Marxist and all and I think a useful argument for me to think
about.

Questions for the conclusion may be something like looking at a balance of
economic, environmental and social benefits of local food, and the potential
gaps in who they fall to. I.e. who eats the food and who gets the profits.
While there may be inherent sustainability benefits on the food miles and
less infrastructure front, it is also important to look at the
sustainability as an economic development and social justice issue--is it
just creating a haves and have nots among farmers? Is it creating a diverse
agri-food landscape that challenges the industrial high production model,
and the oft-linked consolidated retailer price and quality control system,
or is it in many cases creating a dual system of cheap, mass-produced,
environmentally destructive food for some people, with expensive, "quality,"
artisanal and environmentally friendly foods and markets for others? In
other words, are these alternative food supply chains actually a challenge
to the prevailing system, or are they niche markets which, as they grow, if
they do, will become part of the existing system of downward price pressure,
more generic conceptions of quality and environmental standards (this can be
seen in copy-cat labels of natural, fresh, nature-friendly, etc.), and a
mass-produced "locality" identity fetishism that loses traceability as it
expands and may or may not actually mean all of the farm family friendly and
positive environmental things it implies to buyers?

So, structure. Local is good for these reasons (and these people have said
so). It has often been assumed or asserted to have these additional
desirable qualities or effects (social bonding, trust, re-locating of rural
and regional identities, value capture for farmers, etc.). Several of these
have been questioned based on views of economic motivation, uneven
distribution of rents, defensive localism, etc. Conclusion: the basic
reasons that local is good generally stand. The more recent analyses of how
the supply chains work and who benefits are idealistic, peasantising and
don't stand up to long-term projections or meaningful market saturation
scenarios.

Now, this is a hard conclusion to come to, because everyone in my department
is on the side of Kathe Kollwitz pretty peasants in fields versions of
things (I know she had horrible images, but didn't she also have these?),
with the picture of family farmers reclaiming their rightful share of retail
value. But I really am starting to think about the equity issues
here--because the current state of research is all about case studies of
successful eco-entrepreneurs and alternative networks and cooperative
marketing groups, and about how this diversifies the agri-food system in
general. I agree, but I also think it's very much a them that have, gain
scenario. If you research farmers in Cornwall who are invovled in quality
food schemes, a very high percentage, which i could look up, moved to the
rural area in order to start a farm business, with specialty foods,
artisanal methods and idyllic lifestyle in mind. Most of the ones who are
making it are those who see outside the farm life box. They think like
consumers. Is that a problem? Not really. They have a market. But is
building a rural development scheme on the experiences of yuppie farmers
with vision a viable plan? Especially when the market for expensive
targeted premium foods is limited? Not so sure.

Oh boy. didn't mean to do all that. And it's a very recent stage of
thinking on this. I already have questions for myself. And I know that
there is still plenty of room for market growth, particularly if there is a bigger
steady, more widespread demand (like that of public procurement, for
example) and that more environmetnally and socially sound systems are better
and so some are better than none.

End of Excerpt. So that's where my brain is, and why I never write. And today and tomorrow I have to finish this essay so I can go see my dear supportive Jason (who actually answered this in a meaningful way from a hostel lobby in Berlin).

Wish me luck.

A Bug's Life

Today I turned in my dissertation research proposal. I worked so hard on it and I'm kind of proud of it, even though it's just the proposal and it was geared to the professor who assigned it and so doesn't reflect much-needed logistical information i'll have to hammer out with my supervisor.

I spent the day in a suit (a not so fancy, velvety brown one) at a conference on sustainable public sector food procurement (school, hospital and prison meals) with representatives of lots of important organisations. I networked where I could, but that's surprisingly hard to do when they all have lots of information useful to me and I don't have much to offer them--they realize I'm a student and move on to someone who can do something for them! Their loss, I reckon. To be fair, most were not like that. But when the abrupt turn-away happens, it can really throw you! Mostly I learned lots by keeping quiet and listening.

Two essays and an exam to go!

Then I'm off to meet my darling husband (who will have spent the weekend in Berlin) and spend a glorious week of no required anything in Prague, Vienna and Budapest. Going to school in Europe was a mighty fine idea. I haven't had much time to research sight-seeing, but we are so going to see this:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundertwasserhaus

And soon after that, my mom, dad and sister are coming to visit! Unfortunately, the rest of the family can't make it. But I'm really looking forward to showing the small version of my family around Cardiff, South Wales and London. I love the idea of being able to show them where we've spent this whole important year that almost no one from home (except Corey) will ever see.

OOPS!

Photos on this blog are temporarily disabled. I store them on a friend's server, which is having a problem this week. They'll all reappear in about a week, when he gets back from a long trip.

DISHEVELED. WRITERLY. STILL NOT DONE.

Well, I've done it. I've become that scruffy grad student writer type that I wanted to be, then swooned over, then wanted to be again. For several days last week, I shuffled around the house with my coffee cup (usually with cold coffee because I'd absentmindedly left it in the other room at some point and forgotten to drink it but needed the caffeine and couldn't be bothered to spend the time making more), trying to get work done. I never washed the cup, just filled it when it ran dry, and I wore the same clothes for days in a row--even went in to school in them.

I stared at the screen, typed furiously in bursts, developed tics for when I couldn't think, and developed 'writing habits.' The best of these involves working in every chair in the house (plus my bed) during the course of one heavy writing day. What happens is I hit a block, can't think clearly, don't know which problem to tackle next. So what do I do? I move to a new space--a new chair, the desk instead of the table, my bed instead of the arm chair by the window--and then I work until it happens again. It works pretty well; I recommend it.

Less productive habits include eating too much toast (and not enough else), watching horrible home buying and/or cooking shows as a study break, and making a really obsessive round of all the blogs I've ever heard of about every half hour. If your hit counts have gone up, don't get too excited--it might just be that I've got essays due!

So far, these mechanisms have gotten me through all of last semester and 2 presentations and 3 essays of this semester. I've got two more essays due this week, an exam and one final essay due next week. I should post a picture at the end of May--or even a series to document my deterioration--I'm sure I'll have some serious Einstein hair, coffee-stained clothes and panda bear eyes by the end of this. I guess we'll need to have some video to capture the jittery insanity of it all, as well.

Writing is still hard and I'm not sure any of it is decent. For this last essay, I was extremely pleased with the new structure that came to me miraculously in a 4:00 am vision the night before it was due, but less than impressed with the actual text I managed to write to fill in the glorious shell. If only I had had a couple more hours, you'd be seeing me near the words Nobel and groundbreaking in the New York Times before long. Alas, I had to turn in some sloppiness. My beloved endearing proclaimed his certainty that the ideas will shine through. I'm not so sure. I think I've learned the lesson that looking and acting like an insane genius does not turn you into one.

PS. Yes, I know the photo has nothing to do with anything. I just thought you needed something to look at. It's from St. Fagan's Museum of Welsh Life, taken last summer, before I lost my mind.

SALSA

I wrote the first part of this post last September. Most of it is still true. Updates below.

Remember I said that I'd found a Mexican place that looked like it wouldn't charge ten pounds for a burrito? Well, I've yet to see it open. I managed to find some tiny cans of vegetarian refried beans and a container of salsa without corn ingredients of any kind, some tortillas and even "soured cream." But the beans were terrible (and expensive) and the salsa was somehow gelled with guar gum. Yum. So I decided to make some salsa. Without any cookbooks or ready access to the internet, I bought what I believed to be the appropriate ingredients and then thought about it a little. I then gave in and managed to look up some recipes on the internet, but since they all seemed to be about mango and cucumber and corn, or involved oven roasting (we still don't have use of our oven--but the parts should be here any day now), I gleaned the basics and set about doing it my way. I must admit it turned out pretty well. For those of you who care, here's what I did:

Roast a red pepper lightly on a fork over gas flame. Chop and set aside after it cools. Take a bunch of small tomatoes and sort of flash-fry them whole in a tiny bit of oil, stirring frequently so they get more than one edge cooked some. Take them out to cool after a short while, as skins start to split a little. Then throw in some chunks of onion and a sliced chili or two and stir-fry quickly until charred edges and softened, adding garlic at the very end as the pan cools. Chop up the tomatoes, drain, chop the onions/chilis and mix it all together in a bowl. Add the red pepper and some raw chopped garlic. Season with salt, some cumin, a bit of black pepper, some chopped cilantro and a few squeezes of lime. Yum, yum.

And I've got some black beans soaking, as I can't find them canned here. Tomorrow's going to be a Mexican extravaganza at our house.

UPDATE:

Have since seen mexican place open, and found another. But both have sweet overly thick salsa-like stuff, thereby making it not very mexican. So I still make salsa at home, weekly. Now I make it without cooking tomatoes or onions, without red peppers, and only roast the chili peppers over the gas stove flame. Delicious, and a staple of our diets 'round here. We've also managed to find canned refried beans, which don't compare to stewed black beans, but who has the time, really?

I'm also learning to make indian food, as the ingredients are easily bought in any corner store here, and I have an indian friend who let me in on some secrets.

Not news for those of us with corn allergies

Corey Jo recently recommended that I read some Michael Pollan for fun once I'm done with all this essay writing business (still four to go!) Apparently he's going to be in Portland and Seattle. (Info at the bottom of the post, for those of you in Seattle)

Anyway, here's a quote from a news article about his new book, The Omnivore's Dilemma. It's interesting in general, but also think about it from the point of view of poor little old me, who can't have corn in any form without getting a monster migraine for days. It's not comforting, but it's also no surprise if you've ever tried to avoid corn. It's everywhere in every form in every food. Just one more reason to avoid processed foods, candy and soft drinks.

C'mon people, 66 pounds of high fructose corn syrup, per person, per year!? Gross.

Our food pyramid teeters on petrochemicals and corn syrup
Oregonian, Sunday, April 30, 2006
JOHN FOYSTON

"When I started trying to follow the industrial food chain . . . I expected that my investigation would lead me to a wide variety of places," Pollan writes in "The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals." "(But) at the very end of these food chains, I invariably found myself in almost exactly the same place: a farm field in the American Corn Belt. The great edifice of variety and choice that is the American supermarket turns out to rest on a remarkably narrow biological foundation . . . dominated by a single species: Zea mays, the giant tropical grass most Americans know as corn."

The costs of a food chain founded upon cheap energy, chemicals and an oversupply of cheap corn go beyond the oil consumed. Our corn monoculture is a disaster for almost everyone. American farmers are going broke, our soil, water and health are being degraded, cattle live in vast compounds eating food they were never evolved to digest, and our citizenry grows ever fatter as we eat our way through the corn glut.

(Little is eaten as yellow kernels. Instead, we eat it as ingredients and sweeteners such as high-fructose corn syrup: each of us swills 66 pounds of HFCS a year.)

The glut is a boon for corporations such as Cargill and Archer Daniels Midland, which sell the chemicals, feed and seed, who buy and process the corn, slaughter the livestock and transport food. And it's a boon for the corn itself, Pollan says.

"Of all the species that have figured out how to thrive in a world dominated by Homo sapiens, surely no other has succeeded more spectacularly -- has colonized more acres and bodies -- than Zea mays, the grass that domesticated its domesticator."

IN SEATTLE:
May 12th
KUOW Weekday, 94.9 FM
9:00-10:00 AM interview with Steve Scher on KUOW's Weekday
AND
Omnivore's Dilemma Reading
www.thirdplacebooks.com
6:30 PM, free reading at
Third Place Books
17171 Bothell Way NE.
For more information call 206-366-3333.

Dear Prifysgol Caerdydd:

Two things. (or maybe three)

1. If you are going to decide what is a fair or reasonable amount of work for a 10 credit course, and give this a value in page numbers in a handbook, please advise your professors that that page number is meant to signify assignments of a certain size which should equate to a fair and reasonable amount of work. Please tell them that giving much larger topics than can be adequately covered in that page length, and then “letting” students go over it “some” without penalty because the topic is too big defeats the entire purpose. They may also be interested to know that, in addition to defeating the purpose, it is worse than just having longer page requirements because students must not only meet the specs of the assignment, but then spend hours creatively wordsmithing and whittling away important bits of argument to get it down to “nearly” assigned number of pages.

2. If you are going to create a class in which a group research project is the entire assignment, with findings to be presented orally to the class and submitted in a written report, please don’t then at the last minute tell them that the presentation is entirely ungraded because so many people mess it up and its really just for good practice in presenting out loud. Especially if some students are freaking adults who have spoken in public a time or two and who have put in the hours of preparation they know are the way to make it go smoothly.

3. Also, in that group project class, please please please find some way to judge individual students on their work and not give everyone in a group the same grade with no way to distinguish who did what or, (as has been the case in two out of three groups examined through participatory research by this author) who did nothing at all or did a thing so badly that it had to be redone last minute by other group members. While it is clear that you mean to give a “real world” experience of team project work and peer motivation, please note that students are not given hiring or firing choice in this scenario, nor is there the option, which may exist in some real world situations, to just give the lazy person a section and let them sink or swim and have their job depend on it. The class project scenario encourages what your fine institution has taught me to identify as “free rider” problems. Lesser students know that students who care about anything will not let the project fail, and that the professor cannot back down from the single-group-grade/motivate-your-peers platform, and so there is really nothing other group members can do except get it done while they stare into space (or in a hypothetical situation, at the clock, while the real students hack away at his writing, letting him squirm because they know he’s scheduled to be out drinking and that he’s useless in the room, but that they are not about to set him free until it’s done and up to snuff.) On the other hand, it does allow dedicated, hardworking students to realize how much better they are than the rest of the world. And they know this holds some kind of value, somewhere. Or at least they can hope.

CAERDYDD COLFEN II

CARDIFF TREE / CAERDYDD COLFEN

In Case You Forgot, I Live in the UK

I got an email today from a friend here. It included the following:

"Today is pretty rubbish for work for me too. The old grey cells straining a bit...am planning to go to footie tonight but may bottle it as am feeling cream crackered."

She's great and I'd love her even if she didn't say such excellent british things. I think "cream crackered" is the new "plumb tuckered" in my vocabulary.

For you, Sioned (who's Welsh in case y'all can't tell), who requested more Seattle stuff on the blog, here's the Seattle translation:

"Yeah, today sucks for me,too. My brain's totally fried ... was gonna go practice with my band (or paint or work on my screenplay or some other arty endeavor), but'll probably scrap it 'cuz A of all) I'm beat, and second, I don't feel like it. "

It would probably, most often, have more cursing in Seattle, but this here is a family blog.