I have two meetings arranged for the fair – both to discuss ongoing projects – and not strictly necessary – but it certainly helps oil the wheels and promote understanding. There’s also a project bid where I haven’t yet met the client (I will be a sub-contractor on that one). I also edit a lot of magazine articles by organic players I haven’t actually met. I get to meet several of them. It’s good for me to not only put a face, but a personality and set of interests, behind a name. But mostly it’s good to be there and catch up on gossip.
There’s a tradition on the second day to have ‘post-fair stall parties’. It’s a ligger’s delight. As the second day winds down I pass the Irish stall, where the Irish ambassador to Germany (who has travelled all the way from Berlin) is encouraging ‘the troops’: speaking of Ireland’s reputation and quality foods (and of it being one of the few countries in the world that has a trade surplus with Germany).
Further down the line I meet the obligatory lunatic. There’s always more than one at these shows and he hid it well. It wasn’t until ten minutes into our conversation that I reasons there were good reasons why no-one was funding his research proposals about the energetic pathways between soil and plants. Unfortunately we’d gone through the card swap ritual before I realised this! I could regret that.
Having managed to shake him off I get to the Portuguese stall where one of my colleagues is based this year. I get a lesson in the complexities of Portuguese wine-making, get to taste a brandy based on the strawberry tree and then another colleague turns up with a bottle of brandy distilled in (get this) Iraq. Everybody said he was crazy and would never get away with getting that production line going. (Having tasted it they might have still have some way to go with refining the process – but I guess they don’t face much domestic competition). One of the Portuguese farmers appears with a leg of acorn fed smoked ham – which causes some logistical problems as no-one has a knife large or sharp enough to slice it – but someone finds a solution (exceedingly pissing off a top Australian chef- whose knives were used in his absence and who apparently threw a tantrum the next morning). With brandy and pork in their bellies the Portuguese farmers are soon in song – regaling us with songs (about tractors or just love found/lost?).
There’s some talk about going to Fusser Bar - a Sausage and Steiner place in the old city centre – in a brick vaulted cellar that holds about five hundred people, which the organic community traditionally ‘invades’ on the Thursday night of the fair. But it’s already late (after nine) and I remember the difficulty of getting a seat or served at that time. Someone invites me to the Demeter stall party – which I have never been to before- and has a DJ spinning real vinyl and is still serving alcohol- At some point I get introduced to the Bavarian Minister of Agriculture (who was distinctly unimpressed by my tentative link to Renate Kunast). The day was long but I had to say goodnight at some point.
Viva la mundo biologica. A world of diversity and possibilities.
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