My second week in New Zealand, I took a trip down to Havelock North in the Hawkes Bay region. Hawkes Bay is reputed for its gloriously sunny weather; and thus, it has become an important fruit-growing region. Much of the land is dedicated to “pipfruit,” and the intention of my travel was to meet the folks at the HortResearch station doing apple research. Specifically, I was interested in learning more about their projects in Integrated Fruit Production (IFP), as that will be the focus of my Ph.D when I return to the States. My visit was very productive. I met several scientists, including one that is working on Apple Replant Disease (the subject of my Master’s research). I visited research orchards and a packing house. I engaged in discussions on IFP and was invited to present my research at a couple grower seminars in July. All around, it was a very fruitful (pun intended) week.
Hawkes Bay is a delightfully scenic region. The port city of Napier not only serves a vital purpose, but it is charming with its art deco architecture. Nearly destroyed by an earthquake in 1931, the city was rebuilt in such style and now is a popular tourist destination. Havelock North is a pleasant village amidst quaint orchards and elegant wineries. The shops are fashionable and the cafes trendy; yet, a person can walk inside one wearing their “gumboots” and no one will give a second glance.
Just outside the village are the Te Mata Mountains – popular for sports enthusiasts of all types. There are trails for running and mountain biking, and in the summer, hang gliders depart from the highest peak for a birds-eye view of the serene countryside below. The views from the top are spectacular on a clear day, and I was lucky to receive fine weather.
For pictures, visit the Hawkes Bay folder at my Shutterfly website.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Translation Please
My first weekend in New Zealand, I went tramping in the bush with torches. “Excuse me? You did what, Michelle?” Sorry. Yes, sometimes it seems these Kiwis have a language of their own!
My first weekend in New Zealand, I went hiking in the forest with flashlights. My American comrade Liz, from HortResearch, and her housemate Chris invited me to go camping with them, and considering this would be a great opportunity to experience nature, I tagged along. We drove about an hour north to the Waitawheta Valley in the Kaimai Mamaku Mountains. (Note: most natural areas, like many cities, have Maori names.) Because Chris had to work Saturday morning, we didn’t get away until mid-afternoon, which meant that when we arrived at the trailhead, it was dusk. We first paraded across a pasture, and the low light meant that only the squishing under our boots indicated to us where we were stepping. Then, we approached the bush, with its tall, shadowing trees and its encroaching shrubbery. Light became scarce, but thankfully we had our torches to show us the way. We meandered along the trails, ducking around vines and dodging muddy patches. Birds fluttered in the vegetation, but our surroundings were peaceful otherwise. We looked up to see a half moon rising.
When we exited the bush, we had arrived at our campsite – a humble “hut” with two rooms of bunk beds separated by a kitchen area. To our dismay, we learned that the hut was completely full. We had not come prepared with a tent, so we scrounged some plastic and began making a shelter to protect us from the likely chance of heavy due. The sky was clear and a marvelous dome of stars reigned above us. We stood there in awe until our necks grew soar and our stomachs rumbled. Then, we began making our humble pasta dinner and laughed about the circumstances. As the night drew forward, so did the chill, and as the other campers began to settle into their bunks, Liz and I decided that sleeping inside, on the floor of the common kitchen, seemed better than outside in the cold. Chris, however, decided to brave the elements, and we all passed the night extremely uncomfortable.
The next morning, Liz and I were awoken by a barking dog and rambunctious children. We were both still tired at that early hour, but we couldn’t help but find the situation hilarious. “Bear” the dog began barking at who knows what, and then Bear’s owner began shouting at him, “SHHH! BE QUIET!” I don’t know who was more distracting – Bear or his owner. Then, “the Peanuts Gallery” as we called them – a group of three children between the ages of five and eight – came into the kitchen and began hitting their toys on the table under which I was laying. There was not chance at falling back to sleep – their feet dangling near my head. When they became bored with that, one of the boys – still in his sleeping bag – began hopping along the floor. Another decided to run behind him, and what followed was a classic cartoon. The second boy stepped on the trailing sleeping bag just as the momentum of the first was leading him into another bounce, and then boom! Down he went. Liz and I were practically in stitches, watching from underneath our tables! And to top off the hilarity of the entire situation, when the women from the other group rose, one of them spied us in our sleeping bags under the tables and snapped a picture. I wonder if that picture is on a blog somewhere out in cyberspace. Actually, I wish I had a copy! We eventually got ourselves up and went outside to check on Chris. Sleeping peacefully under the plastic we had rigged, and away from the racket of the other campers, Liz and I couldn’t help but wonder if, in fact, he had chosen the better spot.
After some breakfast and packing up our things, we continued our circuit which we began the night before. We “tramped” through the bush and forged a river several times. Chris, the Kiwi that he is and quite accustomed to walking barefoot, had no problem walking over the pointed rocks on the river bottom. Liz and I had a bit more difficulty but managed through the chilly, rushing waters.
Eventually, we arrived at a grove of giant Kauri trees, which was perhaps the highlight of the voyage. The Kauri tree is analogous to the California redwood – enormous, stately, beautiful, and symbolic. It is native to New Zealand and was once a popular logging tree. Today, because their expanse has dwindled to only four percent of their original area, they are protected, and the Kaimai Mountains mark the southernmost habitat where they are found. The trees we observed were approximately 600 years old, but others in the north have lived over 2000 years.
We continued forward. The uphill climbs were laborious under the weight of our packs, but the view from an overlook made the trudging worth while. A couple more crossings of the river, and we finally made it back to flat pasture land. With the river lapping to our side and the straight path ahead of us, Liz began to whistle the theme song to the Andy Griffith Show, and I joined in with her. Chris didn’t understand the insinuation, but Liz and I found the tune perfectly appropriate given our surroundings. This was the first of my New Zealand adventures.
To view pictures, visit my Shutterfly website and click on the Kaimai Mountains folder.
My first weekend in New Zealand, I went hiking in the forest with flashlights. My American comrade Liz, from HortResearch, and her housemate Chris invited me to go camping with them, and considering this would be a great opportunity to experience nature, I tagged along. We drove about an hour north to the Waitawheta Valley in the Kaimai Mamaku Mountains. (Note: most natural areas, like many cities, have Maori names.) Because Chris had to work Saturday morning, we didn’t get away until mid-afternoon, which meant that when we arrived at the trailhead, it was dusk. We first paraded across a pasture, and the low light meant that only the squishing under our boots indicated to us where we were stepping. Then, we approached the bush, with its tall, shadowing trees and its encroaching shrubbery. Light became scarce, but thankfully we had our torches to show us the way. We meandered along the trails, ducking around vines and dodging muddy patches. Birds fluttered in the vegetation, but our surroundings were peaceful otherwise. We looked up to see a half moon rising.
When we exited the bush, we had arrived at our campsite – a humble “hut” with two rooms of bunk beds separated by a kitchen area. To our dismay, we learned that the hut was completely full. We had not come prepared with a tent, so we scrounged some plastic and began making a shelter to protect us from the likely chance of heavy due. The sky was clear and a marvelous dome of stars reigned above us. We stood there in awe until our necks grew soar and our stomachs rumbled. Then, we began making our humble pasta dinner and laughed about the circumstances. As the night drew forward, so did the chill, and as the other campers began to settle into their bunks, Liz and I decided that sleeping inside, on the floor of the common kitchen, seemed better than outside in the cold. Chris, however, decided to brave the elements, and we all passed the night extremely uncomfortable.
The next morning, Liz and I were awoken by a barking dog and rambunctious children. We were both still tired at that early hour, but we couldn’t help but find the situation hilarious. “Bear” the dog began barking at who knows what, and then Bear’s owner began shouting at him, “SHHH! BE QUIET!” I don’t know who was more distracting – Bear or his owner. Then, “the Peanuts Gallery” as we called them – a group of three children between the ages of five and eight – came into the kitchen and began hitting their toys on the table under which I was laying. There was not chance at falling back to sleep – their feet dangling near my head. When they became bored with that, one of the boys – still in his sleeping bag – began hopping along the floor. Another decided to run behind him, and what followed was a classic cartoon. The second boy stepped on the trailing sleeping bag just as the momentum of the first was leading him into another bounce, and then boom! Down he went. Liz and I were practically in stitches, watching from underneath our tables! And to top off the hilarity of the entire situation, when the women from the other group rose, one of them spied us in our sleeping bags under the tables and snapped a picture. I wonder if that picture is on a blog somewhere out in cyberspace. Actually, I wish I had a copy! We eventually got ourselves up and went outside to check on Chris. Sleeping peacefully under the plastic we had rigged, and away from the racket of the other campers, Liz and I couldn’t help but wonder if, in fact, he had chosen the better spot.
After some breakfast and packing up our things, we continued our circuit which we began the night before. We “tramped” through the bush and forged a river several times. Chris, the Kiwi that he is and quite accustomed to walking barefoot, had no problem walking over the pointed rocks on the river bottom. Liz and I had a bit more difficulty but managed through the chilly, rushing waters.
Eventually, we arrived at a grove of giant Kauri trees, which was perhaps the highlight of the voyage. The Kauri tree is analogous to the California redwood – enormous, stately, beautiful, and symbolic. It is native to New Zealand and was once a popular logging tree. Today, because their expanse has dwindled to only four percent of their original area, they are protected, and the Kaimai Mountains mark the southernmost habitat where they are found. The trees we observed were approximately 600 years old, but others in the north have lived over 2000 years.
We continued forward. The uphill climbs were laborious under the weight of our packs, but the view from an overlook made the trudging worth while. A couple more crossings of the river, and we finally made it back to flat pasture land. With the river lapping to our side and the straight path ahead of us, Liz began to whistle the theme song to the Andy Griffith Show, and I joined in with her. Chris didn’t understand the insinuation, but Liz and I found the tune perfectly appropriate given our surroundings. This was the first of my New Zealand adventures.
To view pictures, visit my Shutterfly website and click on the Kaimai Mountains folder.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Random Stories
1. Tsunami warning. It wasn’t long after I arrived in New Zealand that there was a tsunami warning. It seemed like the rest of the world was better notified of the threat than we were, as most of us were not aware of the potential until the morning after. Yes, there were folks in Gisborne, a coastal town south of here, that were advised to evacuate (and some of them did), but the majority of us didn’t hear the news until we turned on the radio the next morning. On the public radio station, there was commentary about the efficacy of the New Zealand disaster warning system, and it reminded me of the FEMA hubbub that surfaced after Hurricane Katrina. The hubbub didn’t amount to much, however, probably because the tsunami didn’t amount to much.
2. Theater. I attended a play at the Te Puke Repertory Theater. It was written by a Kiwi playwright about the depression in New Zealand. It was by no means a cheerful play, but it was done well, especially given its humble locale. The cultural scene of Te Puke is nothing to boast about, and perhaps the repertory theater is the only cultural activity to do, unless one considers going to the Chinese take-out “cultural.” (Although, I have been warned not to eat from there unless I want another experience not worth boasting about.) Nonetheless, the group did a nice job with a rather difficult play. If there was anything jovial about the outing, it was the company. I went with my boss Garry and his 16 year old daughter Amy. Our seats were separated, so Amy and I were seating among a group inebriated women. They were carrying on in loud voices using language that caused the others to shush them, considering they were sitting near “children.” Yes, they were referring to Amy and me. During the intermission, one of the ladies turned around and asked me if I attended Mount Intermediate (the junior high school in Mount Maunganui, the neighboring town.) I just replied, “No, I’m not from here.” Not even my “accent” phased her. Amy reassured me that I didn’t look like a child, and I reassured her that she didn’t either.
3. Driving. I had my first driving experience just over a week ago. I was with Shane, the kiwifruit extension advisor in a HortResearch car, making the three hour return drive from Gisborne. We had gone there that day to sample trials, and when it was time to return, he decided he wanted to take some notes, so I drove back. There are many things about which to be conscious, I came to realize, when driving on the other side of the road. First, not only is the car on the opposite side of the road, the steering wheel is on the opposite side of the car. All the controls are on opposite sides of the steering column, so the blinker switch is on the right and the windshield wipers on the left. There is also the inconvenience of being accustomed to the rear-view mirror being on right, but having to learn to look left instead. The speedometer is in kilometers per hour, etc. These things may not seem like much, but when combined, they can make one feel like quite an inexperienced driver. I don’t want to admit how many times I first turned on the windshield wipers when trying to indicate a turn.
Secondly, there are different rules of the road here in New Zealand. Round-abouts are common instead of four-way intersections. For the most part, these are not too difficult – just a little confusing when there are multiple lanes. Some Kiwis have expressed amazement over our system of yielding to the first arrival at a four-way stop. They can’t believe drivers are courteous enough to make it work! (I suppose that is debatable.) There are no yellow lines on the road to indicate how many lanes belong to each direction. Most roads are just two lanes, so this isn’t too much of a problem, but when a passing lane opens up, it is a bit “dodgy” in my opinion. Three lanes all only separated by dotted, white lines – I just keep to the edge. Finally, there is a ridiculous right-of-way law that even the Kiwis will admit is crazy. Here is the situation… If a car is turning right (think left) off of a two-lane road, and another car coming from the opposite direction is turning left (think right) onto that same road, then the person turning left must yield to the person wishing to turn right – the person who must cross opposing traffic! All of this makes for a very interesting driving experience; yet…
I am now a car owner. Yes, I still chose to buy a car, despite all of these complications. Public transportation in New Zealand is not like it was in the other two countries where I have lived this year. A car is a necessity, especially for anyone who wishes to explore all that this country has to offer. Car values depreciate quickly, so used cars can be purchased cheaply, and reselling is usually fairly simple. So, I am now the owner of a white, 1989 Honda Civic Shuttle. It is gas-efficient, yet spacious. It runs well, and it even has a radio. It should suit me just fine these next few months as I venture about.
2. Theater. I attended a play at the Te Puke Repertory Theater. It was written by a Kiwi playwright about the depression in New Zealand. It was by no means a cheerful play, but it was done well, especially given its humble locale. The cultural scene of Te Puke is nothing to boast about, and perhaps the repertory theater is the only cultural activity to do, unless one considers going to the Chinese take-out “cultural.” (Although, I have been warned not to eat from there unless I want another experience not worth boasting about.) Nonetheless, the group did a nice job with a rather difficult play. If there was anything jovial about the outing, it was the company. I went with my boss Garry and his 16 year old daughter Amy. Our seats were separated, so Amy and I were seating among a group inebriated women. They were carrying on in loud voices using language that caused the others to shush them, considering they were sitting near “children.” Yes, they were referring to Amy and me. During the intermission, one of the ladies turned around and asked me if I attended Mount Intermediate (the junior high school in Mount Maunganui, the neighboring town.) I just replied, “No, I’m not from here.” Not even my “accent” phased her. Amy reassured me that I didn’t look like a child, and I reassured her that she didn’t either.
3. Driving. I had my first driving experience just over a week ago. I was with Shane, the kiwifruit extension advisor in a HortResearch car, making the three hour return drive from Gisborne. We had gone there that day to sample trials, and when it was time to return, he decided he wanted to take some notes, so I drove back. There are many things about which to be conscious, I came to realize, when driving on the other side of the road. First, not only is the car on the opposite side of the road, the steering wheel is on the opposite side of the car. All the controls are on opposite sides of the steering column, so the blinker switch is on the right and the windshield wipers on the left. There is also the inconvenience of being accustomed to the rear-view mirror being on right, but having to learn to look left instead. The speedometer is in kilometers per hour, etc. These things may not seem like much, but when combined, they can make one feel like quite an inexperienced driver. I don’t want to admit how many times I first turned on the windshield wipers when trying to indicate a turn.
Secondly, there are different rules of the road here in New Zealand. Round-abouts are common instead of four-way intersections. For the most part, these are not too difficult – just a little confusing when there are multiple lanes. Some Kiwis have expressed amazement over our system of yielding to the first arrival at a four-way stop. They can’t believe drivers are courteous enough to make it work! (I suppose that is debatable.) There are no yellow lines on the road to indicate how many lanes belong to each direction. Most roads are just two lanes, so this isn’t too much of a problem, but when a passing lane opens up, it is a bit “dodgy” in my opinion. Three lanes all only separated by dotted, white lines – I just keep to the edge. Finally, there is a ridiculous right-of-way law that even the Kiwis will admit is crazy. Here is the situation… If a car is turning right (think left) off of a two-lane road, and another car coming from the opposite direction is turning left (think right) onto that same road, then the person turning left must yield to the person wishing to turn right – the person who must cross opposing traffic! All of this makes for a very interesting driving experience; yet…
I am now a car owner. Yes, I still chose to buy a car, despite all of these complications. Public transportation in New Zealand is not like it was in the other two countries where I have lived this year. A car is a necessity, especially for anyone who wishes to explore all that this country has to offer. Car values depreciate quickly, so used cars can be purchased cheaply, and reselling is usually fairly simple. So, I am now the owner of a white, 1989 Honda Civic Shuttle. It is gas-efficient, yet spacious. It runs well, and it even has a radio. It should suit me just fine these next few months as I venture about.
Monday, May 22, 2006
My Work
I am working at the Horticulture and Food Research Institute of New Zealand, a.k.a HortResearch. HortResearch was established in 1992 when a reorganization of government departments resulted in “Crown Research Institutes” (CRIs) to pursue the agricultural research interests of the government. Similar to the agriculture experiment stations of land-grant universities, the CRIs are government-owned, but they differ from the American system because they function as private companies trying to make a profit. Funding is received from both public and private sources, and it is expected that some money be turned back to the government and that scientific advances are made to benefit industry. HortResearch employs approximately 500 people, and research focuses primarily on kiwifruit, apple, and grape, though blueberry, peach, and other summer fruits are also of interest. Two of the primary objectives at HortResearch are making innovations in fruit breeding and advances in Integrated Fruit Production (IFP). Notable HortResearch successes include the Jazz™ apple and the ZespriGOLD™ kiwifruit. These are proprietary fruit which have earned revenue for the company, and their parentage is not disclosed. The work done in IFP has been revolutionary in the exportation of horticultural commodities. IFP is mandated in crops like apple and kiwifruit, and HortResearch is a leader in IFP research. There are ten HortResearch stations between the north and south islands dedicated to these programs; one of these stations is in Te Puke.
Te Puke and the Bay of Plenty region on a whole could quite possibly be considered the kiwifruit capital of the world. Though countries like China, Chile, and Italy have a higher annual production of kiwifruit than New Zealand, the fruit, after all, has its namesake in this country and its people. A drive through the countryside will showcase it as the dominant horticultural crop in this region. Perhaps only sheep and dairy cattle would rival it in terms of the land occupied. The orchards roll with the hillsides. Vines are planted in neat rows, and a grid of wire trellises supports the network of canes. Pendant fruit dangles, awaiting harvest. Each orchard is surrounded by tightly-spaced poplars or pines – soldiers standing shoulder to should at attention. These soldiers protect the orchards from winds and increase humidity, providing a pleasing environment for the crop. Native birds are abundant – fantails dancing on the wind and pukekos scurrying on the ground. A drive through the countryside will showcase such serenity, but I am seeing the industry from a different perspective. During my time here, I will be working with various scientists – from breeders to entomologists to physiologists – to get a sampling of the research being conducted on kiwifruit, but I will also be working with an extension advisor in developing my own project focused around grower outreach. Given my career interest in Cooperative Extension, I am very excited about this project.
Not only am I enthusiastic about my project, there are a couple other perks to my work environment. First, the people at the station are all very friendly, helpful, and have a great sense of humor. It is quite an international office, too. Not only are there Kiwis, but there are also people from Australia, England, Switzerland, South Africa, Tanzania, China, Colombia, there was someone from Italy when I first arrived, and there is another American besides myself. It makes for an interesting cultural experience! The girl from Colombia is actually one of my housemates, so I have someone with whom to continue practicing Spanish. Second, there are lunchtime volleyball games every day that it is sunny. Sometimes it gets pretty competitive, but the nicknames that some people have acquired keep it all in good fun. I anticipate that these next four months will be an interesting and exciting learning experience, which will likely spawn a lot of laughs and stories. Look for them here.
For pictures, connect to the folder "My Work" at my Shutterfly website.
Te Puke and the Bay of Plenty region on a whole could quite possibly be considered the kiwifruit capital of the world. Though countries like China, Chile, and Italy have a higher annual production of kiwifruit than New Zealand, the fruit, after all, has its namesake in this country and its people. A drive through the countryside will showcase it as the dominant horticultural crop in this region. Perhaps only sheep and dairy cattle would rival it in terms of the land occupied. The orchards roll with the hillsides. Vines are planted in neat rows, and a grid of wire trellises supports the network of canes. Pendant fruit dangles, awaiting harvest. Each orchard is surrounded by tightly-spaced poplars or pines – soldiers standing shoulder to should at attention. These soldiers protect the orchards from winds and increase humidity, providing a pleasing environment for the crop. Native birds are abundant – fantails dancing on the wind and pukekos scurrying on the ground. A drive through the countryside will showcase such serenity, but I am seeing the industry from a different perspective. During my time here, I will be working with various scientists – from breeders to entomologists to physiologists – to get a sampling of the research being conducted on kiwifruit, but I will also be working with an extension advisor in developing my own project focused around grower outreach. Given my career interest in Cooperative Extension, I am very excited about this project.
Not only am I enthusiastic about my project, there are a couple other perks to my work environment. First, the people at the station are all very friendly, helpful, and have a great sense of humor. It is quite an international office, too. Not only are there Kiwis, but there are also people from Australia, England, Switzerland, South Africa, Tanzania, China, Colombia, there was someone from Italy when I first arrived, and there is another American besides myself. It makes for an interesting cultural experience! The girl from Colombia is actually one of my housemates, so I have someone with whom to continue practicing Spanish. Second, there are lunchtime volleyball games every day that it is sunny. Sometimes it gets pretty competitive, but the nicknames that some people have acquired keep it all in good fun. I anticipate that these next four months will be an interesting and exciting learning experience, which will likely spawn a lot of laughs and stories. Look for them here.
For pictures, connect to the folder "My Work" at my Shutterfly website.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Culture of the Kiwis
Just because I am in another English-speaking country does not mean that there are no cultural differences to be observed. This list has been quite fun to put together.
1. Population. New Zealand is about the same size as California in area, but its population is roughly only a tenth of that of the most populous state. Auckland is the country’s largest city with just over a million people – a third of the country’s population. I am living southeast of Auckland in the Bay of Plenty region, which has also become a popular place to live because of its pristine beaches and moderate climate. People talk about the region’s growing pains and traffic as a result of its popularity. I can sympathize with them, as I feel similar frustrations about California’s Central Valley. But, their ranting makes me chuckle, especially when I consider that there are 17 sheep to every person in this country.
2. Maori people. The native population of New Zealand consists of the Maoris. It is quite an interesting contrast – the pale, scrawny derivatives of England and the darker, huskier natives who “make good rugby players.” That is probably not a P.C. statement, but it is the general conception. Perhaps what is more interesting about the mutualism of these two cultures is the influence they have had on language. There exists cities named Hamilton, Wellington, and Christchurch, and others called Tauranga, Te Puke, and Whakatane. Towns welcome visitors with signs printed both in English and Maori, and children are introduced to the Maori language in school. Kiwis seem to find it humorous to quiz newly-arrived foreigners on the pronunciation of Maori words. I have provoked laughter with some my attempts, but I have learned bits of the language along the way.
3. American accent and Kiwi slang. People here tell me that I have an accent. I let the comments slide since, after all, I am in their country. I similarly get a kick out of some of the slang I hear. The British “bloody” and “dodgy” derogatory remarks made their way to this distant island country, but perhaps what are funnier are the phrases used to describe something positive. “Good as gold” is a common idiom, as are phrases like “cool as” or “sweet as.” They don’t actually go on to finish the phrase, so someone not familiar with the slang is initially left with the curiosity “as what?” until they resign themselves to the fact that they will never know the rest of the simile. And, if the Kiwi accent is strong (because yes, it is them with the accent, not me), then the “as” actually sounds like another word with one more consonant at the end, which I initially misunderstood and found the phrase to be all the more strange. Finally, upon arrival, I was told several times that I would get “jacked up.” Now, in the United States, we would not take such a statement too kindly, but when in my case, it was followed by “with a ride to work” or “with a place to live,” then I figured it was just an expression to which I would have to grow accustomed.
4. Toilets. While I am on the subject of different terminology, I will continue with a comment on toilets. First, if one needs a toilet in a public place, one simply asks for one. Asking where is the restroom will only return a puzzled look. A second note about toilets: many I have seen have two buttons for flushing – one for a half flush and one for a full flush. In the U.S., I have only seen one such toilet and that was in a co-op house in Ithaca. Seems like a clever way to save on water, so I don’t know why we haven’t adopted more of them. Finally, for those of you dieing to know, I cannot tell you whether the water swirls in the opposite direction in the Southern Hemisphere because the toilets here don’t flush with the water swirling; it’s just a straight gush.
5. Short shorts. Perhaps it is because I just came from Chile where women were frowned upon for wearing shorts and men’s short were generally pretty long, but when I arrived here in New Zealand and observed the length of men’s shorts I found them to be incredibly short! Now that I have been here for two weeks, I still believe that men here wear incredibly short shorts! Take, for example, one of my housemates. Nathan is a rugby player – a tall, hefty guy. I came home one evening, and I found him in the kitchen. He was wearing a long (untucked) flannel shirt and a pair of shorts. My initial thought (which hopefully was not expressed on my face) was, “Oh my gosh! He’s not wearing any pants!” I was relieved to realize that, in fact, he was wearing shorts. Although, on second thought, I don’t know if I was actually relieved because I still had to stifle the humor I was finding in the situation. To top it all off, when I returned from running a little while later, Nathan was walking back from the grocery store. He was wearing the same flannel shirt, the same short shorts, and a pair of “gum boots” (rubber boots). Quite the fashion statement. I suppose some shoes are better than no shoes at all.
6. Barefoot. Kiwis have a tendency to leave behind their shoes. Children go to school without them, people walk around the research station (yes, even the laboratories) with their feet exposed, and you will never find a “No shoes, no shirt, no service” sign in businesses because if they were to post them, they would probably soon be finding themselves out of business. I guess I am just a whimp from so many years of wearing highly-supportive, well-cushioned running shoes; I just cringe when I see people walking on concrete, asphalt, and even gravel without any shoes!
7. Right, left, right. Driving in New Zealand is done on the “wrong” side of the road. This also means that the steering wheel in on the “wrong” side of the car, so people have gotten a kick out of me when, as a passenger, I’ve walked to the driver’s side of the car. But, this cultural difference is not only an adjustment when riding in the car; it must also be remembered as a pedestrian. Look right, left, right before crossing the street! I literally have to repeat that to myself every time I approach an intersection when I am running, and I still have urges to finish with one more look to the left.
8. Tea time. Tea time is very important. We have mid-morning and mid-afternoon breaks for tea at the station everyday. A container of tea bags in constantly stocked. Tea is had with almost every meal. There is even a “tea cup” light that flashes and bell that sounds in cars if the driver has been driving too long without stopping for a break. No joke.
9. Americans, American administration, and Canadians. I have heard several jokes and snide remarks about the White House administration. I prefer not to talk about politics, so I don’t contribute any comments, but people usually feel obliged to apologize to me for what they say. I have been told that Kiwis generally think highly of Americans; they just can’t understand our current administration. Again, I am making no judgment call here. Although, I guess Canadians have made some calls. On a camping expedition, upon hearing my “accent,” some Kiwis asked if I was from Canada. I was later told that Canadians were getting insulted by Kiwis always asking if they were from the U.S., so now Kiwis will first ask if a person is from Canada.
1. Population. New Zealand is about the same size as California in area, but its population is roughly only a tenth of that of the most populous state. Auckland is the country’s largest city with just over a million people – a third of the country’s population. I am living southeast of Auckland in the Bay of Plenty region, which has also become a popular place to live because of its pristine beaches and moderate climate. People talk about the region’s growing pains and traffic as a result of its popularity. I can sympathize with them, as I feel similar frustrations about California’s Central Valley. But, their ranting makes me chuckle, especially when I consider that there are 17 sheep to every person in this country.
2. Maori people. The native population of New Zealand consists of the Maoris. It is quite an interesting contrast – the pale, scrawny derivatives of England and the darker, huskier natives who “make good rugby players.” That is probably not a P.C. statement, but it is the general conception. Perhaps what is more interesting about the mutualism of these two cultures is the influence they have had on language. There exists cities named Hamilton, Wellington, and Christchurch, and others called Tauranga, Te Puke, and Whakatane. Towns welcome visitors with signs printed both in English and Maori, and children are introduced to the Maori language in school. Kiwis seem to find it humorous to quiz newly-arrived foreigners on the pronunciation of Maori words. I have provoked laughter with some my attempts, but I have learned bits of the language along the way.
3. American accent and Kiwi slang. People here tell me that I have an accent. I let the comments slide since, after all, I am in their country. I similarly get a kick out of some of the slang I hear. The British “bloody” and “dodgy” derogatory remarks made their way to this distant island country, but perhaps what are funnier are the phrases used to describe something positive. “Good as gold” is a common idiom, as are phrases like “cool as” or “sweet as.” They don’t actually go on to finish the phrase, so someone not familiar with the slang is initially left with the curiosity “as what?” until they resign themselves to the fact that they will never know the rest of the simile. And, if the Kiwi accent is strong (because yes, it is them with the accent, not me), then the “as” actually sounds like another word with one more consonant at the end, which I initially misunderstood and found the phrase to be all the more strange. Finally, upon arrival, I was told several times that I would get “jacked up.” Now, in the United States, we would not take such a statement too kindly, but when in my case, it was followed by “with a ride to work” or “with a place to live,” then I figured it was just an expression to which I would have to grow accustomed.
4. Toilets. While I am on the subject of different terminology, I will continue with a comment on toilets. First, if one needs a toilet in a public place, one simply asks for one. Asking where is the restroom will only return a puzzled look. A second note about toilets: many I have seen have two buttons for flushing – one for a half flush and one for a full flush. In the U.S., I have only seen one such toilet and that was in a co-op house in Ithaca. Seems like a clever way to save on water, so I don’t know why we haven’t adopted more of them. Finally, for those of you dieing to know, I cannot tell you whether the water swirls in the opposite direction in the Southern Hemisphere because the toilets here don’t flush with the water swirling; it’s just a straight gush.
5. Short shorts. Perhaps it is because I just came from Chile where women were frowned upon for wearing shorts and men’s short were generally pretty long, but when I arrived here in New Zealand and observed the length of men’s shorts I found them to be incredibly short! Now that I have been here for two weeks, I still believe that men here wear incredibly short shorts! Take, for example, one of my housemates. Nathan is a rugby player – a tall, hefty guy. I came home one evening, and I found him in the kitchen. He was wearing a long (untucked) flannel shirt and a pair of shorts. My initial thought (which hopefully was not expressed on my face) was, “Oh my gosh! He’s not wearing any pants!” I was relieved to realize that, in fact, he was wearing shorts. Although, on second thought, I don’t know if I was actually relieved because I still had to stifle the humor I was finding in the situation. To top it all off, when I returned from running a little while later, Nathan was walking back from the grocery store. He was wearing the same flannel shirt, the same short shorts, and a pair of “gum boots” (rubber boots). Quite the fashion statement. I suppose some shoes are better than no shoes at all.
6. Barefoot. Kiwis have a tendency to leave behind their shoes. Children go to school without them, people walk around the research station (yes, even the laboratories) with their feet exposed, and you will never find a “No shoes, no shirt, no service” sign in businesses because if they were to post them, they would probably soon be finding themselves out of business. I guess I am just a whimp from so many years of wearing highly-supportive, well-cushioned running shoes; I just cringe when I see people walking on concrete, asphalt, and even gravel without any shoes!
7. Right, left, right. Driving in New Zealand is done on the “wrong” side of the road. This also means that the steering wheel in on the “wrong” side of the car, so people have gotten a kick out of me when, as a passenger, I’ve walked to the driver’s side of the car. But, this cultural difference is not only an adjustment when riding in the car; it must also be remembered as a pedestrian. Look right, left, right before crossing the street! I literally have to repeat that to myself every time I approach an intersection when I am running, and I still have urges to finish with one more look to the left.
8. Tea time. Tea time is very important. We have mid-morning and mid-afternoon breaks for tea at the station everyday. A container of tea bags in constantly stocked. Tea is had with almost every meal. There is even a “tea cup” light that flashes and bell that sounds in cars if the driver has been driving too long without stopping for a break. No joke.
9. Americans, American administration, and Canadians. I have heard several jokes and snide remarks about the White House administration. I prefer not to talk about politics, so I don’t contribute any comments, but people usually feel obliged to apologize to me for what they say. I have been told that Kiwis generally think highly of Americans; they just can’t understand our current administration. Again, I am making no judgment call here. Although, I guess Canadians have made some calls. On a camping expedition, upon hearing my “accent,” some Kiwis asked if I was from Canada. I was later told that Canadians were getting insulted by Kiwis always asking if they were from the U.S., so now Kiwis will first ask if a person is from Canada.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Arrival to New Zealand
I arrived in Auckland, New Zealand a little worse for ware. The 13 hour flight did not treat me well. I think there was something in the airline food that made me ill, and the man sitting next to me overtook the arm rest and I often had an elbow in my ribs. Needless to say, I did not sleep well, which made the time pass all the slower. Thankfully, when I finally arrived at my destination, I made my way through immigration and declarations without a hitch. My domestic flight was not for another six hours, so exhausted, I slept in the airport. At one point, a guy came over to wake me, just to make sure that I wasn’t missing my flight. In a daze, I said no and thanked him for his consideration. This was the first of many charitable and friendly gestures I would come to experience from the people of New Zealand.
My jumper flight from Auckland to Tauranga was an interesting flight. First, the plane was smaller than those I have taken even into Ithaca, and there was no door between the cabin and the cockpit, so the passengers could watch the pilots navigate. Second, we were low enough – and the weather brilliantly clear – that I could watch the scenery pass. A lush, green blanket, wrinkled with rolling hills lay below and the Pacific Ocean glistened in the distance. New Zealand was already starting to live up to its reputation for pastoral serenity.
When I arrived in Tauranga, I was greeted by Nicola, one of the research associates from HortResearch, the entity which will host me to work these next four months. Tauranga is a port city and the largest city in the Bay of Plenty region. The Bay of Plenty region, on the northeast side of the north island, has experienced growing pains in recent years – so I’ve been told – due to its pleasant climate and oceanside location. Mount Maunganui is the city that neighbors Tauranga and is especially popular with vacationers. Since it was midday by this point, Nicola and I drove down to “The Mount” and had some lunch. The name of the city is derived from the mountain which rises abruptly and adjacently to the beach. It is not only a landmark but a popular place to hike.
We left the Mount, went to Nicola’s house, and not long after, a deluge of rain fell. I didn’t realize a storm had passed, however, because jet lag had caught up with me, and I slept most of the afternoon. I woke for just a couple of hours in the evening, and then went back to bed again, sleeping all the way through the night.
After that first night, I moved my belongings to the house of my “boss” and his family. I stayed there the first two weeks until my permanent situation became available. The house had a separate “flat,” which was quite comfortable, and the family was very kind and welcoming. My permanent situation is in Te Puke. I will share a house with a young couple and another person who works at HortResearch, Marcela. Marcela is from Colombia, and I look forward to practicing Spanish with her. There will be reciprocity in this because she looks forward to practicing English with me because she said I am much easier to understand than the Kiwis. Te Puke itself is not the most interesting of towns, nor the most exciting, but my flat company promises to be good and the proximity to work means that, when the weather is good, I will bike there. I am gradually settling into my new country of residence.
My jumper flight from Auckland to Tauranga was an interesting flight. First, the plane was smaller than those I have taken even into Ithaca, and there was no door between the cabin and the cockpit, so the passengers could watch the pilots navigate. Second, we were low enough – and the weather brilliantly clear – that I could watch the scenery pass. A lush, green blanket, wrinkled with rolling hills lay below and the Pacific Ocean glistened in the distance. New Zealand was already starting to live up to its reputation for pastoral serenity.
When I arrived in Tauranga, I was greeted by Nicola, one of the research associates from HortResearch, the entity which will host me to work these next four months. Tauranga is a port city and the largest city in the Bay of Plenty region. The Bay of Plenty region, on the northeast side of the north island, has experienced growing pains in recent years – so I’ve been told – due to its pleasant climate and oceanside location. Mount Maunganui is the city that neighbors Tauranga and is especially popular with vacationers. Since it was midday by this point, Nicola and I drove down to “The Mount” and had some lunch. The name of the city is derived from the mountain which rises abruptly and adjacently to the beach. It is not only a landmark but a popular place to hike.
We left the Mount, went to Nicola’s house, and not long after, a deluge of rain fell. I didn’t realize a storm had passed, however, because jet lag had caught up with me, and I slept most of the afternoon. I woke for just a couple of hours in the evening, and then went back to bed again, sleeping all the way through the night.
After that first night, I moved my belongings to the house of my “boss” and his family. I stayed there the first two weeks until my permanent situation became available. The house had a separate “flat,” which was quite comfortable, and the family was very kind and welcoming. My permanent situation is in Te Puke. I will share a house with a young couple and another person who works at HortResearch, Marcela. Marcela is from Colombia, and I look forward to practicing Spanish with her. There will be reciprocity in this because she looks forward to practicing English with me because she said I am much easier to understand than the Kiwis. Te Puke itself is not the most interesting of towns, nor the most exciting, but my flat company promises to be good and the proximity to work means that, when the weather is good, I will bike there. I am gradually settling into my new country of residence.
April Dreer Fellowship Report
A Final Taste of Chile
The sense of taste is a series of simultaneous perceptions. Though first associated with the mouth and tongue, the pleasure we acquire from food and drink is also a result of visual and olfactory observation. For the general populace, the collective experience of these three senses is probably considered subjective, varying from person to person based on preference. Nevertheless, taste also has an objective element and is critical in determining quality in products such as wine and olive oil – the two products I have studied to date during my travels.
Tasting with an objective mindset is important for manifold reasons. First and foremost, it is important for recognizing differences in the harvested crop, including quality and variety. If there are field treatments of interest or varying field conditions or systems, this may also be expressed in the taste of the product. In the cases of wine and olive oil, taste differences may result from variations in the fermentation or milling procedures and storage. And because these products are known the world over, objective tasting is used to classify a product based on country or even region of origin.
Learning to taste objectively, however, is not an easy skill to master. The skill comes from trying many products but with a methodology so that each experience is consistent with the previous. That consistency may mean sitting in the same chair or in a room with consistent lighting and temperature. Temperature of the product itself is also important. For wine, temperatures too cold will not allow the full spectrum of aromas to be sensed; whereas, at temperatures too warm the alcohol is perceived too strongly. Olive oil should be tasted warm so that it is thinly fluid. Other factors that affect taste objectivity include having a clean palate and an open mind – a label should not influence one’s taste buds. Learning the proper vocabulary will assist in developing a sensorial memory. And finally, simply believing in one’s senses is essential to learning to taste objectively.
The senses of sight, smell, and taste are particularly important and interact in gustation. In simplest terms, the product should be pleasing to the eyes, nose, and tongue. For a connoisseur, however, these senses are utilized to the fullest. In terms of sight, the product should be clean, exhibiting that it is well-filtered. Color intensity is also important and depends on nutritive properties and age. Red wines are such because of anthocyanins found in the grape skins. Yet, they may turn brown with age if improperly stored. White wines turn gold when old and stored under poor conditions. Olive oil may range from light green to gold depending on olive variety and maturity and will turn brown with oxidative degradation. Viscosity is also an important visual characteristic.
Objective evaluation is also dependent on aromatic properties. Intensity and persistency of aroma is important both in terms of wine and olive oil. A trained individual can detect the “fruitiness” of the product, recognize maturity of the crop at the time of processing, and identify defects using their olfactory sense. Defective smells in wine include those of yeast, sulfur dioxide, wood, or metal. Rancidity from oxidation may be perceived in olive oil, and a trained nose will differentiate among mold, fruit fly, and other forms of damage.
The final sense involved in objective evaluation of a food product is the obvious – the sense of taste. For both olive oil and wine, the dominant tastes will be sweet, sour, and bitter. It was once believed that humans had specific regions on the tongue where these tastes were observed; however, recent studies claim that taste buds on all regions of the tongue can recognize each taste property. Astringency is another important taste property, and the degree of astringency describes the “dryness” of the product.
Such knowledge about the senses and their interactions gives a methodology and a scientific basis to the experience of tasting. For products such as olive oil and wine, where quality and price are determined by the overall taste experience, it is important to understand this systematic approach. In my last month in Chile, I learned the methodology of tasting and attempted to develop my own senses with objectivity.
Hands-on Experience
In my final month, I acted as a teaching assistant in the “Fundamentals of Enology” class. The first month of the class was spent in the classroom, learning about the winemaking process, but once the students had some exposure, they were given the opportunity to practice themselves, with the final task of tasting their own products and testing their own sensory abilities. They began by harvesting the Cabernet Sauvignon crop from the campus vineyard and then sorted out the poor-quality grapes and crushed what were good. The pH and Brix of the juice was measured, and then various fermentation treatments were applied. The treatments differed in quantity of yeast added and the timing of the addition. In the days that followed, the students were responsible for monitoring the fermentation process by measuring the temperature and density of their juices.
Once the fermentation process was complete, various tests were performed in the laboratory. Color intensity was determined using the spectrophotometer, and the pH was measured to determine acidity. The percent alcohol was ascertained by distillation and hydrometric analysis and is an important measure because pricing and taxation depend on the degree of alcohol. Reducing sugars are those that can be utilized by the yeast and were quantified to verify whether fermentation was complete. Finally, sulfur dioxide was measured because, though it is added as a preserving agent, certain levels can cause asthmatic reactions in sensitive individuals.
Before the end of the semester, the students will have the opportunity of seeing their wines to completion, designing a label, and tasting the final products to understand how the treatments took effect. Though my departure from Chile prevented me from tasting the class wines, my experience as a teaching assistant allowed me to observe the winemaking process. And instead, I found other opportunities to train my palate.
Winery Visits
The activities at a winery during the harvest season will likely resemble those of any other winery during the harvest season. A crop arrives from the field, and workers sort the poor-quality grapes and foreign material from the lot. Machines separate stems from berries, clean the berries, and crush the berries. Large stainless steel tanks store the juice during the fermentation process, and barrels in dark, temperature-monitored cellars age the wine before it is transferred to bottles with meticulously-designed labels. The activities at a winery during the harvest season will likely resemble those of any other winery during the harvest season; what differs is the product at each step of the process.
Viña Haras de Pirque was established in 1990 and currently exists on 120 hectares southeast of Santiago in the Maipo Valley. Though a portion of the land is planted with Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay, the operation specializes in red varieties such as Carmenére, Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Syrah. Perched on a hillside overlooking pastoral horse ranches, the idyllic surroundings bear semblance to the idyllic business philosophy of quality over quantity. This translates into expensive wines bound for export markets. All grapes are harvested by hand and then handled box by box, rather than in large bins, to ensure careful delivery. My visit to Viña Haras de Pirque gave me the opportunity to try fruity juices from tanks in the beginning stages of the fermentation process and maturing blends from barrels in the process of aging. Through this experience I learned what makes a quality wine and how it tastes during its development.
In the transverse valley of Colchagua, near the town of Santa Cruz, resides Viña Estampa. A more recent operation than Viña Haras de Pirque, begun only in 2000, the 300 hectare Viña Estampa already has an established reputation for its red assemblages – wines made by mixing varieties. The vineyard uses advanced production techniques; the 300 hectares were planted using Global Positioning System images of the soil and terrain, matching proper conditions with suitable varieties. At Viña Estampa, I learned and sampled the difference between varietal and reserve wines. A varietal wine is one that goes directly from the fermentation tank to the bottle; whereas, reserve wines are aged in barrels before bottling. I learned to recognize the softer taste and smoother feel of the reserve wine over the varietal, which is important in determining quality.
A Return to Olive Country
The Valley of Quilimarí is not much unlike regions of Catalonia, Spain where I was introduced to olive culture. True, there are more cacti to note on the dry hillsides of Quilimarí, but the hills of Catalonia were similarly dry. In both places, agriculture would be difficult without the assistance of irrigation. A clear difference between the agriculture, and specifically the olive culture, between these two regions, however, is the history.
Los Condores does not have the history of most olive farms in Spain, established only in 1999; nonetheless, there is a determination for quality despite its young age. The 40 hectare organic farm presently has 15 hectares of the Spanish variety Arbequina producing. Given the small area of current production, oil output is low. All the oil that is produced at Los Condores is consumed domestically, but as more of the trees come to fruition, Los Condores may begin sending their product overseas. Already they have garnered international awards for their oil, with quality that is likely due, at least in part, to their isolation from other olive farms, limiting their exposure to typical disease and pest pressures. I sampled this oil at a taste panel prior to visiting the farm. In attendance were people from industry and academia, and it was an educational experience for us all. We learned to recognize the difference in smells among various defective oils, and we tasted oils for fruitiness, bitterness, and spiciness. All of these perceptions are important when determining the grade of olive oil.
Summary
Unlike horticultural commodities that we buy off the supermarket shelf – where selecting for taste is sometimes a game of chance – for products like wine and olive oil, taste is of utmost importance, has scientific foundation, and is, in fact, not only a measure of the tongue, but of the eyes and nose as well. Taste not only determines quality characteristics, but it determines whether the product will even be put into a bottle. This last month provided excellent opportunity to coalesce my experiences in Spain with those in Chile by refining my tastes for wine and olive oil.
Concluding Remarks on Chile
My first monthly report on Chile described what I perceived to be a dichotomous country. Mountains and valleys, deserts and glaciers, swelling cities and sparsely-populated countryside – it is what I first perceived and what I came to experience. Chile is a dichotomous country in so many obvious ways; yet, given my fellowship objective of studying agricultural sustainability, I discovered another dichotomy to add to the list. In Chile, there are farms clearly on a path toward environmental sustainability, like the biodynamic vineyard of the Soler family and the organic olive farm Los Condores. Nevertheless, the majority of farms in Chile, it seemed, still followed conventional agriculture systems, utilizing chemical resources and labor practices that would be unlawful in the United States. In a country where export agriculture is the only lucrative agriculture, environmental consciousness is often ignored for the sake of profitability and economic sustainability. (Although, it can be argued that commodities produced using environmentally-sustainable practices cater to similarly lucrative markets.) Chilean agriculture is a bountiful basket, a model of efficiency, and an innovative initiative, but there is clear definition between conventional and sustainable farming with little “integration” in between. I presume that with time, Chile will adopt a more comprehensive Integrated Fruit Production (IFP) scheme, but at present the dichotomy remains. It should make for an interesting comparison as I enter a country where IFP is mandated – next stop: New Zealand.
References
Medel, Marcela. 2006. “Introdución a la Gustación del Vino.” Lecture notes. April 25, 2006.
Smith, D.V. and R.F. Margolskee. 2001. Making Sense of Taste. Scientific American. www.sciam.com/article.cfm?articleID=000641D5-F855-1C70- 84A9809EC588EF21. Viewed May 3, 2006.
The sense of taste is a series of simultaneous perceptions. Though first associated with the mouth and tongue, the pleasure we acquire from food and drink is also a result of visual and olfactory observation. For the general populace, the collective experience of these three senses is probably considered subjective, varying from person to person based on preference. Nevertheless, taste also has an objective element and is critical in determining quality in products such as wine and olive oil – the two products I have studied to date during my travels.
Tasting with an objective mindset is important for manifold reasons. First and foremost, it is important for recognizing differences in the harvested crop, including quality and variety. If there are field treatments of interest or varying field conditions or systems, this may also be expressed in the taste of the product. In the cases of wine and olive oil, taste differences may result from variations in the fermentation or milling procedures and storage. And because these products are known the world over, objective tasting is used to classify a product based on country or even region of origin.
Learning to taste objectively, however, is not an easy skill to master. The skill comes from trying many products but with a methodology so that each experience is consistent with the previous. That consistency may mean sitting in the same chair or in a room with consistent lighting and temperature. Temperature of the product itself is also important. For wine, temperatures too cold will not allow the full spectrum of aromas to be sensed; whereas, at temperatures too warm the alcohol is perceived too strongly. Olive oil should be tasted warm so that it is thinly fluid. Other factors that affect taste objectivity include having a clean palate and an open mind – a label should not influence one’s taste buds. Learning the proper vocabulary will assist in developing a sensorial memory. And finally, simply believing in one’s senses is essential to learning to taste objectively.
The senses of sight, smell, and taste are particularly important and interact in gustation. In simplest terms, the product should be pleasing to the eyes, nose, and tongue. For a connoisseur, however, these senses are utilized to the fullest. In terms of sight, the product should be clean, exhibiting that it is well-filtered. Color intensity is also important and depends on nutritive properties and age. Red wines are such because of anthocyanins found in the grape skins. Yet, they may turn brown with age if improperly stored. White wines turn gold when old and stored under poor conditions. Olive oil may range from light green to gold depending on olive variety and maturity and will turn brown with oxidative degradation. Viscosity is also an important visual characteristic.
Objective evaluation is also dependent on aromatic properties. Intensity and persistency of aroma is important both in terms of wine and olive oil. A trained individual can detect the “fruitiness” of the product, recognize maturity of the crop at the time of processing, and identify defects using their olfactory sense. Defective smells in wine include those of yeast, sulfur dioxide, wood, or metal. Rancidity from oxidation may be perceived in olive oil, and a trained nose will differentiate among mold, fruit fly, and other forms of damage.
The final sense involved in objective evaluation of a food product is the obvious – the sense of taste. For both olive oil and wine, the dominant tastes will be sweet, sour, and bitter. It was once believed that humans had specific regions on the tongue where these tastes were observed; however, recent studies claim that taste buds on all regions of the tongue can recognize each taste property. Astringency is another important taste property, and the degree of astringency describes the “dryness” of the product.
Such knowledge about the senses and their interactions gives a methodology and a scientific basis to the experience of tasting. For products such as olive oil and wine, where quality and price are determined by the overall taste experience, it is important to understand this systematic approach. In my last month in Chile, I learned the methodology of tasting and attempted to develop my own senses with objectivity.
Hands-on Experience
In my final month, I acted as a teaching assistant in the “Fundamentals of Enology” class. The first month of the class was spent in the classroom, learning about the winemaking process, but once the students had some exposure, they were given the opportunity to practice themselves, with the final task of tasting their own products and testing their own sensory abilities. They began by harvesting the Cabernet Sauvignon crop from the campus vineyard and then sorted out the poor-quality grapes and crushed what were good. The pH and Brix of the juice was measured, and then various fermentation treatments were applied. The treatments differed in quantity of yeast added and the timing of the addition. In the days that followed, the students were responsible for monitoring the fermentation process by measuring the temperature and density of their juices.
Once the fermentation process was complete, various tests were performed in the laboratory. Color intensity was determined using the spectrophotometer, and the pH was measured to determine acidity. The percent alcohol was ascertained by distillation and hydrometric analysis and is an important measure because pricing and taxation depend on the degree of alcohol. Reducing sugars are those that can be utilized by the yeast and were quantified to verify whether fermentation was complete. Finally, sulfur dioxide was measured because, though it is added as a preserving agent, certain levels can cause asthmatic reactions in sensitive individuals.
Before the end of the semester, the students will have the opportunity of seeing their wines to completion, designing a label, and tasting the final products to understand how the treatments took effect. Though my departure from Chile prevented me from tasting the class wines, my experience as a teaching assistant allowed me to observe the winemaking process. And instead, I found other opportunities to train my palate.
Winery Visits
The activities at a winery during the harvest season will likely resemble those of any other winery during the harvest season. A crop arrives from the field, and workers sort the poor-quality grapes and foreign material from the lot. Machines separate stems from berries, clean the berries, and crush the berries. Large stainless steel tanks store the juice during the fermentation process, and barrels in dark, temperature-monitored cellars age the wine before it is transferred to bottles with meticulously-designed labels. The activities at a winery during the harvest season will likely resemble those of any other winery during the harvest season; what differs is the product at each step of the process.
Viña Haras de Pirque was established in 1990 and currently exists on 120 hectares southeast of Santiago in the Maipo Valley. Though a portion of the land is planted with Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay, the operation specializes in red varieties such as Carmenére, Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Syrah. Perched on a hillside overlooking pastoral horse ranches, the idyllic surroundings bear semblance to the idyllic business philosophy of quality over quantity. This translates into expensive wines bound for export markets. All grapes are harvested by hand and then handled box by box, rather than in large bins, to ensure careful delivery. My visit to Viña Haras de Pirque gave me the opportunity to try fruity juices from tanks in the beginning stages of the fermentation process and maturing blends from barrels in the process of aging. Through this experience I learned what makes a quality wine and how it tastes during its development.
In the transverse valley of Colchagua, near the town of Santa Cruz, resides Viña Estampa. A more recent operation than Viña Haras de Pirque, begun only in 2000, the 300 hectare Viña Estampa already has an established reputation for its red assemblages – wines made by mixing varieties. The vineyard uses advanced production techniques; the 300 hectares were planted using Global Positioning System images of the soil and terrain, matching proper conditions with suitable varieties. At Viña Estampa, I learned and sampled the difference between varietal and reserve wines. A varietal wine is one that goes directly from the fermentation tank to the bottle; whereas, reserve wines are aged in barrels before bottling. I learned to recognize the softer taste and smoother feel of the reserve wine over the varietal, which is important in determining quality.
A Return to Olive Country
The Valley of Quilimarí is not much unlike regions of Catalonia, Spain where I was introduced to olive culture. True, there are more cacti to note on the dry hillsides of Quilimarí, but the hills of Catalonia were similarly dry. In both places, agriculture would be difficult without the assistance of irrigation. A clear difference between the agriculture, and specifically the olive culture, between these two regions, however, is the history.
Los Condores does not have the history of most olive farms in Spain, established only in 1999; nonetheless, there is a determination for quality despite its young age. The 40 hectare organic farm presently has 15 hectares of the Spanish variety Arbequina producing. Given the small area of current production, oil output is low. All the oil that is produced at Los Condores is consumed domestically, but as more of the trees come to fruition, Los Condores may begin sending their product overseas. Already they have garnered international awards for their oil, with quality that is likely due, at least in part, to their isolation from other olive farms, limiting their exposure to typical disease and pest pressures. I sampled this oil at a taste panel prior to visiting the farm. In attendance were people from industry and academia, and it was an educational experience for us all. We learned to recognize the difference in smells among various defective oils, and we tasted oils for fruitiness, bitterness, and spiciness. All of these perceptions are important when determining the grade of olive oil.
Summary
Unlike horticultural commodities that we buy off the supermarket shelf – where selecting for taste is sometimes a game of chance – for products like wine and olive oil, taste is of utmost importance, has scientific foundation, and is, in fact, not only a measure of the tongue, but of the eyes and nose as well. Taste not only determines quality characteristics, but it determines whether the product will even be put into a bottle. This last month provided excellent opportunity to coalesce my experiences in Spain with those in Chile by refining my tastes for wine and olive oil.
Concluding Remarks on Chile
My first monthly report on Chile described what I perceived to be a dichotomous country. Mountains and valleys, deserts and glaciers, swelling cities and sparsely-populated countryside – it is what I first perceived and what I came to experience. Chile is a dichotomous country in so many obvious ways; yet, given my fellowship objective of studying agricultural sustainability, I discovered another dichotomy to add to the list. In Chile, there are farms clearly on a path toward environmental sustainability, like the biodynamic vineyard of the Soler family and the organic olive farm Los Condores. Nevertheless, the majority of farms in Chile, it seemed, still followed conventional agriculture systems, utilizing chemical resources and labor practices that would be unlawful in the United States. In a country where export agriculture is the only lucrative agriculture, environmental consciousness is often ignored for the sake of profitability and economic sustainability. (Although, it can be argued that commodities produced using environmentally-sustainable practices cater to similarly lucrative markets.) Chilean agriculture is a bountiful basket, a model of efficiency, and an innovative initiative, but there is clear definition between conventional and sustainable farming with little “integration” in between. I presume that with time, Chile will adopt a more comprehensive Integrated Fruit Production (IFP) scheme, but at present the dichotomy remains. It should make for an interesting comparison as I enter a country where IFP is mandated – next stop: New Zealand.
References
Medel, Marcela. 2006. “Introdución a la Gustación del Vino.” Lecture notes. April 25, 2006.
Smith, D.V. and R.F. Margolskee. 2001. Making Sense of Taste. Scientific American. www.sciam.com/article.cfm?articleID=000641D5-F855-1C70- 84A9809EC588EF21. Viewed May 3, 2006.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Final Week and Final Thoughts
I don’t know when I will get around to posting this entry, but I write it as I sit in the Santiago airport, awaiting my flight to Auckland via Buenos Aires on this the 28th of April 2006. I don’t know what the time difference is between my departure and arrival cities, but I do know it will be approximately 4:40 am on Sunday the 30th when I touch down an ocean away.
Yesterday, when I called to confirm my flight, I was initially put into a panic. The agent told me that my reservation had been cancelled and I had no seats on the now full flights. Baffled, angry, and scared, I called my bank and was affirmed that, indeed, I had paid the airlines back in January. With this knowledge, my next call to the airlines would not be passive, but in the 15 minutes or so that transpired, the airlines managed to find my reservation, and aggressive behavior was not necessary. I didn’t bother asking what had passed.
Back to my present state… Night has fallen, and the scene out of the airport windows is merely a show of airplane glows and runway lights. Earlier, the scene was quite different. I don’t think I mentioned before that the air quality in Santiago on the day of my half marathon was deemed in “emergency” state, and people were cautioned not to go outdoors. (No doubt, this did not help my health, which was already in a bad state that day.) Today, as I was shuttled to the airport and while I waited here prior to the sun setting, I looked at the air and wondered if the quality could possibly get any worse! A smoggy haze had settled over the city, held in place by the high humidity. Visibility was drastically impaired as with a fog, except light above served as a reminder that it was dirty particulate matter suspended in the sky and not a weather event. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed dirtier air than what I saw today.
***
My last week in Chile wrapped up nicely. On Monday, when the bus from Viña brought me back to downtown Santiago, I took the opportunity to see a few places I hadn’t yet seen. I went to the Church of San Francisco, the oldest building in the city. Unfortunately, it was closed, so I did not see the inside. Then, I walked to the Church of San Augustine – a beautiful structure amidst the hustle and bustle of the downtown streets. I had read a little about the church prior, so I was glad to find it open. By no means Gothic like most of the Spanish churches I had visited; it was, however, ornate by Chilean standards but in a tasteful, lovely way. People were huddled on one side of the church praying to Saint Rita – champion for the impossible. Then, I made my way to the front of the church. A large crucifix hung above the side alter. The sculpture of Christ – dark-skinned and with messy hair – differs from most because the ring of thorns hangs like a necklace instead of a crown. Legend has it that centuries ago, an earthquake caused the crown to fall. When people made efforts to reposition it back in place, the face bled, and the crown was left alone. I left Saint Augustine’s and revisited the Plaza de Armas – bustling with people as they ended their work day – before I made my way home.
Tuesday evening, I was invited to dinner by friends from work. Our group of four dined on humitas – my request.
Wednesday, I ventured out of the city to the Valley of Quilimarí to visit an olive farm. Los Condores olive farm is north of Santiago, about two and a half hours by car. The highway – the same I had traveled on my previous trip north – makes its way along the coast. A thick fog had settled and the ocean was obscured from view much of the drive, but when we exited the highway and drove the bumpy, gravel road into the perpendicular valley of Quilimarí, the coulds burned off and the sun heated the dry, parched land dominated by cacti. Some avocado plantings were evidence of man’s influence on the valley flora, but these, as well as the olive plantings of Los Condores are limited in area due to lack of water. Los Condores – a relatively new farm established in 1999 – has only about 15 hectares yet producing of the 40 hectares of organic plantings. The crop is milled on-site, and the oil has already garnered international awards even though it is not exported. It was interesting to see this operation after my experiences in Spain.
On Thursday, I returned to the university one last time to say my goodbyes and was surprised with a going-away party. The woman from the laboratory who initially, quite frankly, was rude to me, was actually the one who planned the event, so I guess in the end, I won her favor. That evening, I had dinner with Cornell friends, and we reminisced on how quickly my time in Chile seemed to pass.
***
I am now on the plane – blue runway lights and a distant glow of Santiago beyond, but stars not visible. The smoggy haze must still be present. I think about my stay in Chile – the second visit I have made to this country. My body was adjusted to winter, but when I arrived I was pelted by beating rays of sun. I traveled south to one of the most beautiful, un-manipulated places on the planet and probably encountered more people speaking English than Spanish. In Santiago, I braved the public transport and took “micros” to a rough part of town and passed my days in an enology laboratory where my learning curve was steep. I trained for a half marathon in a city where traffic is heavy, smog is omni-present, and men chide degrading remarks.
And I witnessed a culture…. Chile – a country of contradictions. Bustling city; docile country-side. Lush, green south; parched, golden north. Latin like its neighbors, but characteristic in its food, slang, and flair. Chile – a juxtaposition of opposites. Mountains and seaside, desert and glaciers, rich and poor. Tractors pull plows in the fields, as do horses. Highway entrance ramp signs read no pedestrians, bicycles, nor horse-draw carts. The fortunate drive comfortable vehicles, while the less cram like sardines onto tired buses. Literally like sardines – I speak from experience. Chile – a land of gracious giving and selfish motive. People will give up their seats for a woman with child but raging drivers will risk the lives of pedestrians as they speed through red lights. Barking dogs are kept to scare away predators and alarm the innocent alike. I had far too many close-encounters with dogs! But, in this country, people will open their hearts to a stranger so that home doesn’t feel that far away. Despite my gringa appearance and developing Spanish tongue, I made many friends. I confided in them that three months is just enough time to develop relations that make farewells regrettable.
Likely, this will not be my last trip to Chile.
Yesterday, when I called to confirm my flight, I was initially put into a panic. The agent told me that my reservation had been cancelled and I had no seats on the now full flights. Baffled, angry, and scared, I called my bank and was affirmed that, indeed, I had paid the airlines back in January. With this knowledge, my next call to the airlines would not be passive, but in the 15 minutes or so that transpired, the airlines managed to find my reservation, and aggressive behavior was not necessary. I didn’t bother asking what had passed.
Back to my present state… Night has fallen, and the scene out of the airport windows is merely a show of airplane glows and runway lights. Earlier, the scene was quite different. I don’t think I mentioned before that the air quality in Santiago on the day of my half marathon was deemed in “emergency” state, and people were cautioned not to go outdoors. (No doubt, this did not help my health, which was already in a bad state that day.) Today, as I was shuttled to the airport and while I waited here prior to the sun setting, I looked at the air and wondered if the quality could possibly get any worse! A smoggy haze had settled over the city, held in place by the high humidity. Visibility was drastically impaired as with a fog, except light above served as a reminder that it was dirty particulate matter suspended in the sky and not a weather event. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed dirtier air than what I saw today.
***
My last week in Chile wrapped up nicely. On Monday, when the bus from Viña brought me back to downtown Santiago, I took the opportunity to see a few places I hadn’t yet seen. I went to the Church of San Francisco, the oldest building in the city. Unfortunately, it was closed, so I did not see the inside. Then, I walked to the Church of San Augustine – a beautiful structure amidst the hustle and bustle of the downtown streets. I had read a little about the church prior, so I was glad to find it open. By no means Gothic like most of the Spanish churches I had visited; it was, however, ornate by Chilean standards but in a tasteful, lovely way. People were huddled on one side of the church praying to Saint Rita – champion for the impossible. Then, I made my way to the front of the church. A large crucifix hung above the side alter. The sculpture of Christ – dark-skinned and with messy hair – differs from most because the ring of thorns hangs like a necklace instead of a crown. Legend has it that centuries ago, an earthquake caused the crown to fall. When people made efforts to reposition it back in place, the face bled, and the crown was left alone. I left Saint Augustine’s and revisited the Plaza de Armas – bustling with people as they ended their work day – before I made my way home.
Tuesday evening, I was invited to dinner by friends from work. Our group of four dined on humitas – my request.
Wednesday, I ventured out of the city to the Valley of Quilimarí to visit an olive farm. Los Condores olive farm is north of Santiago, about two and a half hours by car. The highway – the same I had traveled on my previous trip north – makes its way along the coast. A thick fog had settled and the ocean was obscured from view much of the drive, but when we exited the highway and drove the bumpy, gravel road into the perpendicular valley of Quilimarí, the coulds burned off and the sun heated the dry, parched land dominated by cacti. Some avocado plantings were evidence of man’s influence on the valley flora, but these, as well as the olive plantings of Los Condores are limited in area due to lack of water. Los Condores – a relatively new farm established in 1999 – has only about 15 hectares yet producing of the 40 hectares of organic plantings. The crop is milled on-site, and the oil has already garnered international awards even though it is not exported. It was interesting to see this operation after my experiences in Spain.
On Thursday, I returned to the university one last time to say my goodbyes and was surprised with a going-away party. The woman from the laboratory who initially, quite frankly, was rude to me, was actually the one who planned the event, so I guess in the end, I won her favor. That evening, I had dinner with Cornell friends, and we reminisced on how quickly my time in Chile seemed to pass.
***
I am now on the plane – blue runway lights and a distant glow of Santiago beyond, but stars not visible. The smoggy haze must still be present. I think about my stay in Chile – the second visit I have made to this country. My body was adjusted to winter, but when I arrived I was pelted by beating rays of sun. I traveled south to one of the most beautiful, un-manipulated places on the planet and probably encountered more people speaking English than Spanish. In Santiago, I braved the public transport and took “micros” to a rough part of town and passed my days in an enology laboratory where my learning curve was steep. I trained for a half marathon in a city where traffic is heavy, smog is omni-present, and men chide degrading remarks.
And I witnessed a culture…. Chile – a country of contradictions. Bustling city; docile country-side. Lush, green south; parched, golden north. Latin like its neighbors, but characteristic in its food, slang, and flair. Chile – a juxtaposition of opposites. Mountains and seaside, desert and glaciers, rich and poor. Tractors pull plows in the fields, as do horses. Highway entrance ramp signs read no pedestrians, bicycles, nor horse-draw carts. The fortunate drive comfortable vehicles, while the less cram like sardines onto tired buses. Literally like sardines – I speak from experience. Chile – a land of gracious giving and selfish motive. People will give up their seats for a woman with child but raging drivers will risk the lives of pedestrians as they speed through red lights. Barking dogs are kept to scare away predators and alarm the innocent alike. I had far too many close-encounters with dogs! But, in this country, people will open their hearts to a stranger so that home doesn’t feel that far away. Despite my gringa appearance and developing Spanish tongue, I made many friends. I confided in them that three months is just enough time to develop relations that make farewells regrettable.
Likely, this will not be my last trip to Chile.
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