Greetings from Mykanos.
Apologies for another hiatus in communication. It’s been yet another day, another week, another month in lockdown and everything seems to merge into a continuous cycle of possibilities and postponements. We were due to end in mid August, until the most recent prolongation extended it to mid September. Whither from then? Who knows?
After a good beginning, Colombia is now suffering a major spike in infections and deaths, with Bogotá and Medellin as the epicentres. Here in Anserma, we had just one confirmed case of Covid-19 between March and late July, when suddenly we had 25 suspected cases.
The reasons were twofold.
One was the fact that people thought it under control and were getting too relaxed, as has been evident in so many other places in the world.
The other was an Ansermanian living in Manizales, the state capital, who died (not of coronavirus) and who wanted to be buried in Anserma. The mayor agreed to the funeral and the body and some family members made the journey. It was not a big funeral but it was obviously too big to be safe. It is suggested that the funeral director, who also came from Manizales, brought the virus with him, but only a twisted minded cynic would suggest he was looking to drum up more business.
So quarantine continues.
As I have said too many times before, we are so much more fortunate than so many others, with space, outside areas, fresh air, lots of food and a business that is still operating. Bogotá seems very far away, which is not a great problem except for the fact that my Kindle is in our apartment. When I flew here in February I was expecting to return within a week, and was going to use it there. It is still there and I am still here.
And I am not the only one.
Last Friday we met our neighbour for the first time. He is a high-powered petroleum engineer who lives in Bogotá. He bought the farm ten years ago. We would only ever be aware of his presence at Easter and Christmas. We know his agregado (plantation manager) Sebastián and his family, but had never met the Patron. We knew they were quarantining here, and renovations soon started happening; painting, new kiosk on the terrace, gardens etc. Then a new pavilion started to be constructed of guadua (bamboo), just above the house. One of my favourite spots for coffee and for working is on the balcony outside our bedroom, and the view encompasses our gardens and trees, and beyond that, the neighbours. We were immediately interested in the pavilion as we are planning on building something similar with our guadua and we liked the look of the workmanship. Sebastián invited us to inspect progress and when we arrived the Patron was there to greet us.
As he proudly showed us what was being constructed he told us that he had only ever been at the farm for three weeks a year since he bought it. In March, on hearing that the Government were restricting travel for those over 70, he bundled his aging mother into the car and came to the farm, originally envisioning a two-week stay. In September they are still here and he has fallen in love with the place. The new building will be his office, from where he will continue working online, and he envisions it being his base for the next 10 years.
He has seven dogs (one being his Mum’s) and three cats, and chickens and ducks and even a couple of peacocks, and he loves them all. The peacock is not so impressed however, and when the dogs get too tiresome he flies over and spends the night on our terrace, returning the next morning, for breakfast we assume.
Our neighbour apologised for his dogs barking at our gate early in the morning.
As it happens, the gate barking is not restricted to the early morning. At almost any time a huge cacophony of yapping erupts as the neighbour’s dogs howl and growl through our front gate at Niña and Lulu, our dogs. It sounds as though a bloody massacre is taking place, with dogs being ripped limb from limb in a maelstrom of snarling fangs and flashing jaws, with only the stout gate keeping them apart and preventing mortal mayhem. On observing the action however, one cannot help but notice that the ‘Hounds from Hell’ are all wagging their tails vociferously. Moreover, if the gate opens during the faceoff they all instantly fall silent, direct their gaze elsewhere and, metaphorically, look at their watches and murmur, “Gosh! Is it that time already? Ciao”, before scampering off.
When we met the craftsmen building the guadua pavilion we found we knew one of them already: one of two brothers who own and operate a vivero (nursery) just up the road from Rancho Grande, and from whom Adriano has bought lots of trees. In fact they are so impressed with Adriano’s enthusiasm for trees they laud him as ‘the cafetero who plants trees rather than chopping them down’.
Trees really have become a passion for Adriano. We love their beauty, the environment they create and the myriad birds that flock to their branches. He wants to create forests, and is planting both here at Mykanos and at Jardines, our farm on the other side of Anserma. The trees include Saman (rain tree / monkey pod tree), Breadfruit, Acacia, Araucaria (Norfolk Island Pines), Guadua, assorted coloured Bamboos, and Guayacán.
The Guayacán is native to here (as is Guadua), and is really magnificent, flowering twice a year. The blossoms are bright golden yellow and last about five days, being replaced by leaves. When they are in flower you can see them easily from afar, dotting the mountainsides, in striking contrast to the deep green vegetation in which they are rooted. It is not dissimilar to the crimson flame trees and purple jacarandas one sees in northern New South Wales. We have a big, aging Guayacán next to the main gate, there are two across the road, and the neighbour has a few more. His farm is called Los Guayacanes. What he doesn’t know yet is that we have planted more than 25 here. When they grow and start flowering his view will be seriously enhanced and the name of his farm will never have seemed so appropriate.
The anomalousness of being a cafetero and planting trees stems from the fact that coffee trees growing in the shade produce better coffee but less of it. Our previous administrator, like so many administrators, was keen to get rid of trees and boost production. Quantity was what he was after, not quality. We have decided to replant trees across about one and a half hectares of Mykanos, providing better microclimatic and environmental conditions for the coffee and encouraging the unique flavour nuances that result.
But that means less coffee, you might reason. It’s true that we will produce less coffee at Mykanos but happily, last Thursday, the day before we met the neighbour, we bought a new plantation; our first in eight years.
It is called El Clavel (The Carnation), is a few minutes up the road and up the mountain from Rancho Grande, and has very good coffee, ready for the cosecha. We took possession on Sunday and on Monday we were picking coffee. It is just coffee, no plantain. The area in which it is situated is admired for the quality of the coffee, and the farm has wonderful views. We can even see Rancho Grande.
And in the grand scheme of things, it is really the point and breadth of view that matter.
Invest precious time, energy and resources into improving life, livelihood, surroundings, the environment, and the health, welfare and happiness of those you love. It’s not a bad way to pass the time.
Love from him and me
Barry
