My colleague at swissinfo, Tim Neville, wrote an excellent piece on an experimental organic vineyard in Valais that aims to restore the natural biodiversity to the region.

High on a hillside in the Alps, Hans-Peter Schmidt has begun an experimental vineyard where ancient clues for solving climate change may lie buried in the soil.

"Look at this," he says, stooping low to claw the earth. "See how black it is? This soil is alive. It could have a huge impact."

That's because Schmidt is no ordinary winemaker. Here in canton Valais, where about 140 producers make some of Switzerland's most popular wines, Schmidt runs a vineyard where the soil captures tons of carbon dioxide and methane gases each year while nurturing rich pinots noirs.

He is what agronomists call a climate farmer, seeking to restore the soil's natural biodiversity while simultaneously preventing greenhouse gases from entering the atmosphere.

more...

And speaking of grapes...

This video clearly did not take long to produce.  As my lengthy Twitter trail indicates, I was in Romania for a few days on reportage. I connected with a nice couple - Frank and Tia - through Couch Surfing and they had a large (they all are) and playful Saint Bernard. I brought her a small cowbell.

While I did not see as much of Bucharest as I had hoped - at least the tourist spots - I managed a stroll down the main drag. Combined with observations from several taxi rides, it became quite clear that much of what characterises the city - the crumbling grandiosity that exists hand-in-hand with very obvious wealth disparities - is an edifice to the failure of  Nicolae Ceauşescu's brand of ego-centred totalitarianism.

The tea rooms, on the other hand, are lovely.

At some point back in the summer, I had a few spare minutes, no shortage of creativity after work, and a pocket cam. It's an odd combination and when you combine it with some editing software and more spare time, this is what you get:

Justin is sorting through about 800 photos from four days.

O-B-A-M-A. You are correct.

Justin is ready for takeoff back to Bucharest on too early a morning. Four hours....

Justin is in Timişoara

Justin is going to the Marie Curie Children's Hospital in Bucharest and has an interview at the National Theatre in the afternoon.

 

Saint Bernard

I am couch surfing in Romania with a couple named Frank and Tia. Too bad I have to leave them tomorrow. They're quite interesting. And they also have a Saint Bernard who loves me. It must be some kind of a Swiss thing.

I arrived from Bern via Munich late last night and had some trouble holding my eyes open. The hotel was supposed to send a shuttle but it never came, so I got into a lame negotiating session with one of the many cab drivers waiting to take foreigners for a ride. I knew I got hosed when, after we agreed to a fee, he threw his hands in the air like a Pentecostal and felicitously to his buddies exclaimed, "I got one!"

His taxi was "official", he said. It was yellow and appeared to have been hand-painted, which in the case of ubiquitous Dacia - his model was more than a decade old - is not a good thing.

"Don't wear a seat belt. If I rob you, you won't be able to get out quickly."

He laughed and I shoved a microphone in his face and told him that since he was ripping me off he could start talking. 

The man-in-the-cab interview actually went quite well and after he dropped me at the hotel, a couple of kilometres from the airport (he insisted the fare was so high because he would have to drive all the way down the highway and back), we stood in the freezing drizzle for around 15 minutes chatting about European integration and how it related to Switzerland.

He admitted he wasn't so engaged on the debate within Switzerland on whether Bulagrians or Romanians should be allowed free movement but said that for his type of people - uneducated - it didn't seem to be too attractive an option, or at least not like in other places. In Italy, one "can do some fucking construction or wash an old woman".

Couldn't have said it better.

I'm in Munich now after the short flight. I slept the whole way and have now found myself in an airport restaurant. Munich is the home of Oktoberfest but I've eschewed the traditional wurst in favour of something more fancy. 

So I've ordered a potato soup with sausages, roast pork with dumplings and a cabbage and bacon salad and of course beer.

The poor waitress here is working about ten tables, so it took a long time to get served. I'm hungry... oh, my soup just came. Looks nice.

Tastes........ tastes nice also. There are little bits of potato and bacon in it. Too bad I've eaten all the bread that I probably was supposed to dip into it.

Travelling is tiring. Being in places is nice but going to places can get annoying. This time wasn't too bad. The airport in Bern is the best I've been at, I think. Zurich's pretty efficient too, and people on these kinds of flights usually don't have a lot of luggage, so you get in and out quickly.

But the trip from Toronto to Switzerland in December was brutal. Apart from the reality that with each second I was further and further from the ones I loved, there were ladies close by wearing sequinned track suits. And they behaved just like you might expect women flying in sequinned track suits to behave.

They were positively giddy at the prospect of sitting still in a small chair for the next nine hours and about the pre-heated food and cheap wine. Everybody within a ten-seat radius heard them. I, of course, was trying to sleep.

The other thing is that smart people know you shouldn't drink on a plane. The air is dry enough, you get more dehydrated and it exasperates your jet lag. Take lots of water and a bit of ginger ale. Bring moisturiser.

And then there's what you overhear the terminal. You've put out a good chunk of change to fly somewhere and the person next to you is going somewhere exotic. And flying business. And wearing socks and sandals.

And then you arrive, clear customs and fumble into a sea of smiling faces waiting for their loved ones. And you walk by them all, find your car or train and move on your way.

Change of subject. The food has just arrived. First impressions positive. The pork came in a nice gravy but I am apprehensive about the dumplings of mysterious origin.

A spongy mass of dough. One appears to be meat-flavoured. I think I'll stick to the protein. I end up cutting through the big dumpling and there's some kind of a prize in the middle. Cubes of unknown origin. I'm not sure what this is supposed to be but I'm not impressed. The cabbage salad is nice but could have used more bacon... Okay, I'm done eating. Check please.

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