pork

Präriepost

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Präriepost

June 15, 2015

Today from Cagliari

It is sunny, here, in this capital city of Sardinia, but the humidity dampens some of the impulsive activity displayed by the residents. From time to time, clouds cover up the intense sunlight and a brief shower may ensue in the late afternoon. At night, the weather is very comfortable for enjoying an elaborate outdoor dinner in the core of the city.

It is a bit cooler in the mountains and along the Mediterranean Sea. The golden beaches are reachable after steering over steep mountains and over long-winding dirt roads.  Finally, the sea is discernable far back – without it, one might imagine oneself driving through desert territory.

The Sardinian mentality is inimitable. People appear somber here, they show few emotions. Their long faces, high contours and bushy eye brows suggest mysterious characters. Older men gather in public places, typically under a tree or on the corner bench. They view travelers with strong-minded indifference, determined not answer silly questions. “If you can’t find your way, why did you not stay at home,” is what they seem to suggest. You know better not to ask the next time.

The food is decidedly non-vegetarian. Meat is an important part of the longevity diet here, and everybody lets you know it. There is prosciutto, there is pork or lamb, and there is donkey and boar for those who are more adventurous. Served with red wine, of course, dried shepherd bread, and local cheese – everything appears to be in good order.

Driving through the mountains is always an experience. Somewhere there is a rally today, starting in Southern Sardinia, but the real rally occurs every day on the long-winding mountain roads. Shift before the curve, accelerate, shift after the curve, accelerate and then shift again before the next curve. Timing is everything. In the meantime, gas is needed even for the most fuel-efficient car here on the island. It is Sunday, however, and the gas stations are closed. After a while, you may spot a self-service station, machine operated only. No problem, just add cash and choose the right button to get started. However, there are six options and all say “Diesel” underneath the button. While contemplating the least wrong choice, the line of local Sardinians who also need to operate the same contraption is getting longer, and they gesticulate, they point and suggest, they try to assist. Finally, the 2nd Diesel button is pushed. It works, even for the non-Diesel fuel – or so one would hope.

The tour continues alongside roads decorated with white and red blooming oleander. The upcoming city could not be more beautiful. Bosa, carved right out of a Paul Klee picture with its shimmering shapes! Terraces filled with intriguing dwellings built right into the mountain, all somewhat angled and in bright colors of blues, and greens, and yellows – above it all: the old castle seemingly protecting the quarters below. Who would not love it here?

Only the grotto is perhaps more magical, a few hundred miles south and reachable only by walking down 615 steps vertically toward the sea. If you want to enter the hidden fairy tale land you need to step down, and down, and down – but what a reward awaits at the very end of the short but arduous journey: enchanting stalagmites and stalactites lit from all sites building an astonishing world of imagination.  If only there were not 615 steps to climb up again.

Finally, strangers to this island reach the longevity region, high up in the mountains, where the nonagenarian shepherds live. Centenarian women speak of their conviction: honesty, honesty, just keep up honesty and you will live a long life. The rest is up to the power above. Longevity here is a way of life, it is part of this community that supports prolonged existence. If you have tomatoes, I will trade cheese. If you need assistance, I will take time for you.

Longevity experts from 13 centenarian research teams have gathered here to exchange their ideas and findings. FOXO3 or BNDF appear to be secret biological markers. The attendees discuss vision and loneliness, activity, resilience, the impact of longevity on caregivers, and the importance of mental health and well-being. They provide evidence that new generations of centenarians are better off than earlier generations, and they compare results from their longevity regions: strong social support and low stress levels appear to be commonalities.

The members of the community in this longevity region listens attentively to these researchers, they tell their stories regardless of the questions being asked, and they feel honored to be hosting the event. They celebrate with music, folk dances, and with local food. Slow-cooked pork, cheese pockets with honey, and red wine appear to be the favorites, here in this land of longevity, where shepherds meet in tight-lipped fashion, where food is on everyone’s mind and where mountains and beaches exist together in seemingly perfect congruence.

Prairie Post (Today from Okinawa)

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Prairie Post

April 29, 2014

(Today from Okinawa)

Is it the rain, here, on this island of longevity, one downpour after the next, or is it the sunshine that comes after a day of steady precipitation? Is it the wind that blows in your face and tries to take you off your feet or is it the calm, humid climate that retells a story only narrated on subtropical islands? Is it the moderate climate that makes life just a little easier, just a little more comfortable every day of the year?

Perhaps it is the food that everybody yearns for here; perhaps they truly are what they eat.  Perhaps the chanpuru, with eggs and goya, or the purple sweet potato substituting for raissu, here in this part of the world, or purple sweet potato ice-cream, or purple sweet potato cookies. And one must ask why, why no one discusses the connections between pork consumption and longevity – here, where pork ribs, pork feet, pork tongue, pork bacon, pork, pork, and pork is eaten. Perhaps people are correct in suggesting that pork fat strengthens coronary walls, boosts the cardiovascular system, the good fat, they call it… but perhaps it is simply moderation after all, hari hatchi bu must have been invented here, on this island.  Dooshite, dooshite?

But then, it may be the lower stress, the easy-going mentality, “Okinawa time,” the island version of tranquility, or is it the music of the sanshin that projects cheerfulness and bliss, the dancing of notes, more a gliding of feet with an occasional stomp … with swirling “mini-hula-like” hands. Is it the creative minds that encourage the potters, textile weavers, and glassware makers to thrive? Perhaps the secret to longevity is that shisa simply protects from all evil by scaring the bad while keeping the good.

Or is it simply a historical fluke, the helpful side-effect of a foreign invader who first destroyed and then cultivated, improved hygiene and changed public health? Perhaps it is a geographic fluke, a crossroads mixing of the best of China, Korea, Japan and Southeast Asia?

And what would the oldest of the old say? That family is important, then health, then hobbies, and then social relations? That keeping active is important perhaps by folding origami, by weaving baskets or crafting small hats. That one can trust a daughter who always takes good care, even sleeps in the same room? Or that the national health care system, which pays for flexible stays at the day center, provides quality care and meaning for their lives and that 45 people in the day center support with friendship?

Is it that the oldest old do not fatigue easily here and that they appreciate company and that they like to give and receive small presents? Perhaps it is because they continue to speak Hogen and chant songs from the past or they continue to enjoy karaoke? Is it the cold water they wash themselves with or is it the fact they do not need and they do not take medication? Then, is it the strong handshake, strength in very old age that makes the difference, or is it a deep sense of spirituality, the sense that ancestors continue to guide through a very long life so long as one prays at the family shrine and visits the family tomb?

Perhaps it is simply the belief that a long life is given if a long life is strived for. Perhaps it is simply important to be kind and attentive, and that years are granted when years are enjoyed, here on this longevity island where everyone loves the temperate climate, the mouthwatering pork with sweet potatoes and where stress is not something people appear to come across very often.

Prairie Post (Today from Hiroshima)

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Prairie Post

April 5, 2014

(Today from Hiroshima)

It is cool, cloudy, and rainy in this solemn city, appropriate perhaps for the heavy history it continues to bear. The damp weather keeps inquisitive minds at bay; most of the time is best spent in the halls that summarize grave perspectives of the past. The cherry trees in full bloom line the Ōta River and their pink and whitish colors stand in stark contrast to the gray buildings that dominate Peace Memorial Park. The people of Hiroshima have dealt with adversity, and unpleasant weather will not keep them from gathering for the annual Hanami festival with a picnic and with a sake gathering under the cherry trees.

Outside, you see the eternal flame that promises to distinguish when the last nuclear weapon has been destroyed, outside, you hear the peace bell ringing when another reflective person decides to add to the long line of admonishers, outside you see the remains of the dome with dangling pieces of metal and with rubble remaining on the ground around it.  And the clock shows 8:15 a.m.

Inside, you see thousands of mosaic pieces, one for each lost life, surrounding a water fountain meant for all the children who had pleaded for water, just water after the attack. The water comes late, too late, but it symbolizes life here, in the formerly destructed city. And the clock shows 8:15 a.m.

Inside, survivors tell their stories about the fireball, about the devastation, about the desperation. About lost family members and about the 1,000 cranes that are supposed to grant you a wish. And the clock shows 8:15 a.m.

Inside, you see hundreds of people lining up to learn about history, old people who may remember and young people who are curious to obtain answers to the “why” question. Inside, you see pictures of burned children, of running adults, of a scorched tricycle. And the clock shows 8:15 a.m.

There is hope that peace is possible, that one day, we will not have to worry about nuclear winters and unnecessary destruction, there is hope that the clock will move one day beyond the 8:15 mark, one day…

This city is a reminder that life will prevail, it did not take 75 years for nature to reappear and for people to reemerge. The people of Hiroshima know their legacy and they continue to be who they are in spite of the city’s past. They welcome guests from all over the world, they have moved into the 21sst century; they use the I-phone to communicate with their guests. “Can you read?” they ask.  “Yes, I can read.” “Do you eat pig?”  they type in.  “Yes, pork is ok.”  The waiter brings the food and writes “I hope it will please your mouth.”  “Oishii desu, totemo oishii desu!”  “Should we have pictures?”  “Oh yes, pictures would be nice.”  “Can I take picture with my I-phone?”  “Yes, you can take a picture.”  “Arigato gozaimasu, arigato gozaimasu…” Friendly people, such friendly people here – where perhaps you would expect it the least.

Friendly people also reside in the nearby island of Miyajima, the island not too far from here.  Jurojin, the God of longevity, rules here.  With his stretched head and white beard he projects calm and wisdom, and he is usually escorted by deer – or perhaps a monkey, a red panda, or a raccoon dog instead?  Jurojin sits with six other Gods as part of the seven Gods of Good Fortune lined up in the Daisho-in temple right on the foot of Mount Misen. People come to visit, up the hill, and they walk to the hall of longevity, spinning a series of metal wheels that are inscribed with the sutra. Turning these wheels is said to have the same effect as reading the Buddhist scriptures with benefit of blessings that the reading is believed to entail. So they spin the wheels.

Down below they find the flooded gate which opens to water on one side and to the Itsukushima Shrine on the other. This is a place to walk, to view, and to picture, this is a place symbolizing the peace Hiroshima has been yearning for, here, where resilience and friendliness are side by side, where longevity rests next to tragedy and where the gate is open come high or low water.