Growing beneath a plastic sky

When you shop for vegetables, what do you look for?  I have to admit that when I go to the Albert Heijn, I tend towards the vine-ripened ones: the stems suggest a fresher product and a more organic origin.

If I thought about it, the tomatoes can’t be picked by hand on some small Italian farm: there are just too many outlets for them, the price is too low, and they are available all year around.  My second guess would be a greenhouse in California, or it’s European equivalent.

Which I discovered on a recent swing through Andalucia.

The area looks a lot like California at first glance, perhaps more like Baja:  Dry brown mountains, scrub desert, brilliant white sunshine.  There’s a line of white development across the base of the hills almost everywhere you look.

On inspection, these are huge plastic tents, stained brown by the blowing dust.  They have screened sides to circulate air and seem absolutely deserted.

 

 

It reminds me of the science fiction scenes where colonists on desert planets set up fragile food factories and favor them with careful rations of water.

The reality is similar: marching rows of tomatoes, ripening beneath the glowing white ceilings.

 

 

Driving along the coast, the scene enlarges and repeats itself.  Huge tents march up the slopes of the hills, nestle between buildings in towns, and sprawl across the narrow coastal plains to the water.  They absolutely cover the landscape.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen arming this intense or widespread.  Wikipedia says that 15% of the world’s cultivated tomatoes are grown here, using this method, and the extent of the tents is growing at double digits per year.  There is a vast system of irrigation, originally drawing from aquifers and now from desalinization, that nurtures the crop, and an enormous army of people who pick and pack the harvest.

In photos from space,  above right, the white plastic tents blanket the countryside south of Almeria, completely obscuring the ground beneath.

I have mixed feelings about this: I like the miracle of having tomatoes throughout the year at my local store at reasonable prices.  But it is based on a system that, on the artificiality and scale of it, feels forced and unsustainable.  I’m reading to learn more about the ecologic and social impacts of the process, but it was a wholly unexpected and thought-provoking truth behind the simple grocery stand.

...but I loved Seville !

After Malaga, the drive led north through the Sierra Nevada mountains to Seville, a two lane road that winds through wonderful valleys and gorges. Although TomTom said that it would take two more hours, it doesn't: traffic flows nicely across the desert plains on the north side of the highlands, and the views are so much better.

Seville is an absolute delight: a fanciful city of blue tile and orange stucco walls. The old core reminds me of Venice: the streets are narrow walks open only to pedestrians, lined with shops and homes and everyday life. Orange trees line the boulevards, and extensive gardens to sit and watch the people go by. The city is very compact and easy to walk, warm and welcoming morning and evening.

The Cathedral has the largest interior space in Europe, walls coated with gold and ceilings arching yellow far overhead. Four huge figures bear the sarcophagus of Columbus; a massive carved wood organ set in rose marble dominates the center of the nave. The adjacent Giralda has a ramp that curls easily up to the bell tower, allowing for an easy (and free) walk up to wonderful views of the city.

The Real Alcazar is a beautiful Moorish-style palace surrounding extensive sculpted gardens. I hadn't realized how dramatic sightlines could be within a building: every arch frames a view, lines of geometric tiles lead room to room, arches draw the eye up, mosaics draw the eye down. The courtyards and galleries are regal without losing human scale, and it's worth hours taking it all in.

It also had one of the more pointlessly amusing translations to help tourists with Spanish.

I could easily have spent twice the time exploring the city, and felt like I especially didn't really get to sample the food adequately. In any case, I highly recommend it as a getaway destination.

Reflecting on Malaga

'Back from a wonderful few days in the South of Spain and Portugal. There weren't many Internet connections along the way, so it was a real vacation, disconnected from the office and the social network. The travel loop led through the mountains near Ronda, around Seville, and across the Algarve: weather was temperate and very windy.

I had originally planned to drive the Costa del Sol from Malaga to Gibraltar, up to Cadiz, and then around into Portugal, but I very quickly tired of the coastline. There is absolutely rampant construction everywhere, with cranes dotting the horizon and white condominium developments crawling up every hillside. The agents are asking well over 100,000 euros for units: who is buying bits of these vast tracts of new construction? There are lots of British in Spain, Germans in Portugal, but do they all have enough disposable income to buy in these volumes? And to stay?

I also wonder at the impact of the changes on the local economy, culture, and environment. The people that I talked with in cafe's and grocery stores were happy for the jobs and money, but resentful of the overwhelming number of visitors and the escalation of prices. The land seems fragile and arid, and unlikely to be able to sustain the cumulative pressure of people that is being placed upon it. The small towns already look more like strip malls, sterile and empty much of the day.

Somehow, Globalization should be more respectful of local scale.

At the moment, once the world economy identifies what an area is good for, it overwhelmingly exploits that single aspect. The Costa del Sol is good for vacation homes, so thousands are built, erasing towns, agriculture, and coastal wilderness. I don't think that the resulting monoculture can be viable or adaptable over the long term. Thus, the short term elevation in living standards would seem to be only a temporary benefit. Like Algernon's mouse, it has the potential to leave the region in worse condition when the boom ends, having lost the historic culture that lived from and supported the region.