Lately I have taken up spinning classes and have been going fairly regularly with two friends of mine, Sara and Pilar. One evening a journalist from the TV show Hablando de todo came to film our class and wanted to interview three participants. Not surprisingly, he insisted on having a word with the only two foreigners (Sara and I) and would not take no for an answer.
So it was that last Saturday Sara and I starred the bit on spinning on the local current affairs program. Spinning is a brand new concept here in Cajamarca: the one and only gym that offers spinning classes opened a month ago, so the theme has news value. The report on spinning took a full five minutes, so I indoor biked on TV for four minutes and then, all sweaty after the workout, voiced my astoundingly intelligent opinions on the subject:
Q: “Why do like spinning?”
A: “I like spinning because it is fun and because I always feel really good after the workout."
Q: “Who would you recommend spinning to?”
A: “Anyone who wants to stay in shape.”
I still congratulate myself on coming up with such imaginative answers... not! :D Anyway, I’m not on TV every day, so it was kind of cool. And luckily no-one videoed the program, so I won’t have to see it again!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Fair Trade bananas
In El Guabo, Ecuador, I had the chance to visit a Fair Trade banana farm. My friend Annika is currently volunteering for the El Guabo Association of Small Banana Producers (APPBG), and she gave me a tour around one of the many farms that are part of the Fair Trade cooperative. I had used the APPBG as a case study for one of my development studies essays in spring, so it was very interesting to see its work in real life!
The banana tree is actually not a tree at all, but a plant. It takes eight months for it to grow fruit, and when the banana bunch is picked, the plant dies. The humid, tropical climate ensures that it rots on the ground soon enough and fertilizes new generations of banana plants. Bananas grow all year around; there is no specific harvest period.
Bananas are not really “picked”, either; they are cut off the plant in huge bunches. To do so, the plant has to be cut down. The banana bunch is hauled to the wire leading to the packing zone, hung from a hook, and pulled all the way to the packing plant. There the bananas are washed, classified and packed. The work is physically extremely tough, and I did not see any female workers.
Packing bananas is trickier than it sounds because each box has to contain exactly 18.14 kg of bananas. An experienced worker packs one in no time. Each box bears a code indicating the farm where it was packed, and the date. If the bananas do not stand up to the Fair Trade requirements, buyers know whom to contact. It takes more than a month before the bananas hit European markets.
The quality requirements for Fair Trade bananas are relatively strict, so a part of the produce (too ripe bananas, for example) goes to domestic markets. The bananas are shipped to Europe while they are still green and they are only made ripen just before selling. I believe that inevitably affects the taste – here in South America all fruits tend to taste better than at home.
The whole process looked very well organized; you can see that the APPBG pays a lot of attention to quality. The Fair Trade premium allows the producers to invest in developing farm infrastructure, and the APPBG also provides them with technical support. Check out Annika’s blog if you want to know more about growing Fair Trade bananas: http://fairtradeinecuador.wordpress.com.
Bananas are the daily bread of Ecuador’s coastal population. Ecuadorians distinguish between the plantain, plátano, and the sweeter banana we in Europe are used to, banano. During my four days on the coast, I tasted banana in countless forms. Banana milkshake was my favourite, excellent way to begin the day! Tigrillo is a dish made of mashed plantain, cheese, and onion. Patacones, fried plantain, is a common accompaniment. One night we made patacones at Annika’s place with the help of some true Ecuadorian chefs, Annika’s friends Patricio, Miguel and Manuel.
The banana tree is actually not a tree at all, but a plant. It takes eight months for it to grow fruit, and when the banana bunch is picked, the plant dies. The humid, tropical climate ensures that it rots on the ground soon enough and fertilizes new generations of banana plants. Bananas grow all year around; there is no specific harvest period.
Bananas are not really “picked”, either; they are cut off the plant in huge bunches. To do so, the plant has to be cut down. The banana bunch is hauled to the wire leading to the packing zone, hung from a hook, and pulled all the way to the packing plant. There the bananas are washed, classified and packed. The work is physically extremely tough, and I did not see any female workers.
Packing bananas is trickier than it sounds because each box has to contain exactly 18.14 kg of bananas. An experienced worker packs one in no time. Each box bears a code indicating the farm where it was packed, and the date. If the bananas do not stand up to the Fair Trade requirements, buyers know whom to contact. It takes more than a month before the bananas hit European markets.
The quality requirements for Fair Trade bananas are relatively strict, so a part of the produce (too ripe bananas, for example) goes to domestic markets. The bananas are shipped to Europe while they are still green and they are only made ripen just before selling. I believe that inevitably affects the taste – here in South America all fruits tend to taste better than at home.
The whole process looked very well organized; you can see that the APPBG pays a lot of attention to quality. The Fair Trade premium allows the producers to invest in developing farm infrastructure, and the APPBG also provides them with technical support. Check out Annika’s blog if you want to know more about growing Fair Trade bananas: http://fairtradeinecuador.wordpress.com.
Bananas are the daily bread of Ecuador’s coastal population. Ecuadorians distinguish between the plantain, plátano, and the sweeter banana we in Europe are used to, banano. During my four days on the coast, I tasted banana in countless forms. Banana milkshake was my favourite, excellent way to begin the day! Tigrillo is a dish made of mashed plantain, cheese, and onion. Patacones, fried plantain, is a common accompaniment. One night we made patacones at Annika’s place with the help of some true Ecuadorian chefs, Annika’s friends Patricio, Miguel and Manuel.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Fiesta de quince años
During my trip to Ecuador, in Cuenca I had the chance to attend the 15th birthday party of my host María Bernarda’s friend’s daughter, Jennifer. The fiesta de quince años is a big feast in Latin America; it equals a wedding in importance. According to age-old tradition, a young girl is introduced to society at her fiesta de quinceañera. From then on, she is allowed to wear make-up, use high heels and have a boyfriend.
Jennifer’s family was obviously rather well-off and they had could afford to splurge on the party. The guest list included a modest 150 friends and family members. The party was celebrated at rented facilities, el Club. Jennifer and her parents could just lay back and enjoy as catering and all other practical matters were taken care of by a hoard of hired kitchen staff. The decoration was meticulously arranged, the dominant colours being pink and purple. The catering was made up of 15 cream cakes, a fountain of chocolate and lots of small snacks like cookies and grapes. There was rosé wine and watered-down whiskey.
The party began at 10 p.m. when Jennifer, the quinceañera, entered the room accompanied by 15 friends and younger cousins. She was wearing a long, elegant, laced dress that could well have been a wedding dress but for the touches of violet and pink. First in line was the exchange of gifts. Both Jennifer’s parents and godparents gave her several presents that had obvious symbolic value. Each gift was accompanied by some words revealing the meaning behind the choice of object. The gifts included a flower (because you are blossoming, dear Jennifer), a high-heeled shoe (because tonight you can wear your very first high heels), and a Bible (so that you never forget the word of the Lord). Jennifer got highly emotional and could not keep back the tears as she thanked her parents for all their help and support through the years.
Once the formalities were over, the dancing began. The loud-speakers boomed cumbia, salsa, meringue and reggaeton. Sometime after midnight, a band made up of Jennifer’s friends played a set of rock songs that was far longer than necessary, considering that the musical merits of the band were next to non-existent. The lead singer remembered to repeat “Gracias, broderes” between every song and before each chorus, so we started calling the group Los Broderes (The Brothers in bad English).
The fiesta de quince años is a rite-of-passage ceremony whose Finnish equivalent could be the High School Olds’ Dances. An old-style ritual, and a very expensive one at that, but I guess rituals are needed in the transition from child to young woman. The equivalent for boys would be the 16th birthday party, but it is hardly celebrated any more, at least not as extravagantly as the fiesta de quince años for girls.
Jennifer’s family was obviously rather well-off and they had could afford to splurge on the party. The guest list included a modest 150 friends and family members. The party was celebrated at rented facilities, el Club. Jennifer and her parents could just lay back and enjoy as catering and all other practical matters were taken care of by a hoard of hired kitchen staff. The decoration was meticulously arranged, the dominant colours being pink and purple. The catering was made up of 15 cream cakes, a fountain of chocolate and lots of small snacks like cookies and grapes. There was rosé wine and watered-down whiskey.
The party began at 10 p.m. when Jennifer, the quinceañera, entered the room accompanied by 15 friends and younger cousins. She was wearing a long, elegant, laced dress that could well have been a wedding dress but for the touches of violet and pink. First in line was the exchange of gifts. Both Jennifer’s parents and godparents gave her several presents that had obvious symbolic value. Each gift was accompanied by some words revealing the meaning behind the choice of object. The gifts included a flower (because you are blossoming, dear Jennifer), a high-heeled shoe (because tonight you can wear your very first high heels), and a Bible (so that you never forget the word of the Lord). Jennifer got highly emotional and could not keep back the tears as she thanked her parents for all their help and support through the years.
Once the formalities were over, the dancing began. The loud-speakers boomed cumbia, salsa, meringue and reggaeton. Sometime after midnight, a band made up of Jennifer’s friends played a set of rock songs that was far longer than necessary, considering that the musical merits of the band were next to non-existent. The lead singer remembered to repeat “Gracias, broderes” between every song and before each chorus, so we started calling the group Los Broderes (The Brothers in bad English).
The fiesta de quince años is a rite-of-passage ceremony whose Finnish equivalent could be the High School Olds’ Dances. An old-style ritual, and a very expensive one at that, but I guess rituals are needed in the transition from child to young woman. The equivalent for boys would be the 16th birthday party, but it is hardly celebrated any more, at least not as extravagantly as the fiesta de quince años for girls.
Robbery
My recent trip to Ecuador provided me with a new experience: assault and robbery. I was climbing up the Panecillo hill in Quito to get a glimpse of the city from up high and to admire the statue of the Virgen de Quito from up close. Contrary to my belief, the stairway was not crowded with tourists. The passers-by were few, and I began to get a bad feeling about the place, especially as I was alone. I was already close to the top and hurried my steps to get there even faster.
That was when three young men attacked me. They pushed me down and grabbed for my bag as I screamed and fought back. I have never had such a scare in my life – I even wet my pants, as ridiculous as it now sounds. The whole scene was over as fast as it started. The robbers ran off with my bag and left me shaking. A friendly woman accompanied me down and even gave me money for a cab back to the hotel. I got there hysterical and crying, still not over the shock. The hotel personnel consoled me, and when I felt a bit better, I went to the nearest police office to file a report of an offense.
I lost a brand new camera, my mobile phone, my diary, make-up, around US$ 15, a sweater, and some small items. Thankfully I had left my passport and cards in the hotel safe. I mostly felt relieved for not having been injured – for a moment I actually feared for my life. Material things really don’t matter that much; what is important is my health. Besides, I have travel insurance, so my insurance company should compensate me for my losses.
Not surprisingly, I have been pondering a lot on the issue of security lately. Why are Latin American metropolis such as Quito and Guayaquil so dangerous while Helsinki (and other European capitals) is safe even at night? It is not just that I look like a tourist and therefore am prone to be attacked. I had the chance to discuss the subject with various Ecuadorians, and they all agreed that the country’s two big cities have grown very hazardous recently. The city centres tend to be well protected: there is one policeman standing at every corner. Only two weeks back I thought that was absurd, but now I am more than glad to see a police officer. No one walks the streets after dark. If you do not own a car, take a cab, and preferably one you know from before.
In Guayaquil my host, Roxana, a real estate agent, took me to visit a residential area of the elite, safe behind walls and guarded gates. The houses looked spacious and luxurious, and each boasted a garage with a brand new car or two. The residents never use public transport; the bus lines connecting the urbanización privada with the city only serve the hoard of domestic help. Robberies are so common that the rich and the famous prefer shutting themselves out of the rest of society.
My quiteña host, Andrea, drove me around quite a bit by car, always with the doors locked and windows up. When we entered a bar, we left the car under the surveillance of a guard hired by the bar. Despite all the precautionary measures, Andrea had been robbed of seven mobile phones in the past two years. She no longer carries her phone around if it is not absolutely necessary, and has bought the cheapest model, just in case.
Thanks to extensive social security and equality, Finland is an exceptionally safe country. I definitely prefer to pay high taxes if that enables me to move around without threat. Personal security is priceless.
That was when three young men attacked me. They pushed me down and grabbed for my bag as I screamed and fought back. I have never had such a scare in my life – I even wet my pants, as ridiculous as it now sounds. The whole scene was over as fast as it started. The robbers ran off with my bag and left me shaking. A friendly woman accompanied me down and even gave me money for a cab back to the hotel. I got there hysterical and crying, still not over the shock. The hotel personnel consoled me, and when I felt a bit better, I went to the nearest police office to file a report of an offense.
I lost a brand new camera, my mobile phone, my diary, make-up, around US$ 15, a sweater, and some small items. Thankfully I had left my passport and cards in the hotel safe. I mostly felt relieved for not having been injured – for a moment I actually feared for my life. Material things really don’t matter that much; what is important is my health. Besides, I have travel insurance, so my insurance company should compensate me for my losses.
Not surprisingly, I have been pondering a lot on the issue of security lately. Why are Latin American metropolis such as Quito and Guayaquil so dangerous while Helsinki (and other European capitals) is safe even at night? It is not just that I look like a tourist and therefore am prone to be attacked. I had the chance to discuss the subject with various Ecuadorians, and they all agreed that the country’s two big cities have grown very hazardous recently. The city centres tend to be well protected: there is one policeman standing at every corner. Only two weeks back I thought that was absurd, but now I am more than glad to see a police officer. No one walks the streets after dark. If you do not own a car, take a cab, and preferably one you know from before.
In Guayaquil my host, Roxana, a real estate agent, took me to visit a residential area of the elite, safe behind walls and guarded gates. The houses looked spacious and luxurious, and each boasted a garage with a brand new car or two. The residents never use public transport; the bus lines connecting the urbanización privada with the city only serve the hoard of domestic help. Robberies are so common that the rich and the famous prefer shutting themselves out of the rest of society.
My quiteña host, Andrea, drove me around quite a bit by car, always with the doors locked and windows up. When we entered a bar, we left the car under the surveillance of a guard hired by the bar. Despite all the precautionary measures, Andrea had been robbed of seven mobile phones in the past two years. She no longer carries her phone around if it is not absolutely necessary, and has bought the cheapest model, just in case.
Thanks to extensive social security and equality, Finland is an exceptionally safe country. I definitely prefer to pay high taxes if that enables me to move around without threat. Personal security is priceless.
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