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14/7/07
8/11/06
23/10/06
19/10/06
8/10/06
Rugged Pathways to a Simpler Time
An old stone house in Fajã de Caldeira de Santo Cristo, one of many seaside villages on São Jorge in the Azores.
THE path starts where the dirt road ends — at the crest of the ragged spine that makes up the whole of Sγo Jorge, one of the nine islands of the Azores. When the clouds lift, which happens now and then, the Atlantic Ocean appears some 2,000 feet below —a sheet of smooth, blue-gray glass. But just as often, you will commence your hike shrouded in a white mist.
Sometime in the last year or so someone put up a sign. Between it and what remains of a rough-hewn wooden milking shed, forsaken now for mobile machines, the path plunges between two rows of hydrangeas with bright blue flowers as plump as muskmelons, and the inevitable deposit that marks it as a regularly traveled cow path.
The Azores — and Sγo Jorge particularly — are covered with these paths. They are called canadas or caminhos and they crisscross the rugged Azorean landscape, bisecting pastures and linking towns and villages. On Sγo Jorge, they provide the only access — except by sea — to some of the island’s fajγs, seaside villages built on the flatlands created from the subsidence of the volcanic peaks.
In recent years, the authorities in the Azores, a semiautonomous region of Portugal in the Atlantic, have begun marking these paths, hoping to attract tourists willing to hike up and down the very edge of Europe. I have been coming to Sγo Jorge since 1991, the year I married an ιmigrι born on the island, and back then I would hear of some of these paths, like lore, from my wife’s relatives. Others we encountered simply by starting down a village road, which would ultimately devolve into a foot-trail and then descend into the verdant ravines that cleave the island.
One of the first I trekked began in the village of Santo Antγo, where my father-in-law, Josι Xavier, grew up, and ended in Cruzal, the village of Teresa Luis, my mother-in-law. The walk is only two miles or so, but steep in places, and retracing his footsteps I came to appreciate the effort he made to court this woman some 50 years ago.
The paths are not exactly a step back in time, but at least a long walk into a simpler place of natural beauty, unspoiled but for the necessity of earning a living. On Sγo Jorge this means milking cows and making a pungent cheese named for the island.
The longest trail winds for several miles along the island’s uppermost ridge, passing the highest peak, Pico da Esperanηa, nearly 3,400 feet above sea level, at the top of which you will find a small lake nestled in a meadow of mountain grass and flowers. From here, on a clear day, you can see the four other islands of the Azores’ central group.
Another begins at Fajγ dos Vimes, a village on the southern coast. Hugging the coast, the path leads to Fajγ dos Bodes, but a couple of years ago a rockslide severed the path, which has yet to be restored I picked up the path farther on, past a riotously pink church.
Starkly visible across the strait is the island of Pico, named after its dominant geographical feature, a perfectly conical volcano that is the highest point in all of Portugal at 7,713 feet. (In 2004, I climbed Pico with a guide and ate lunch on the summit, sitting above the clouds, warmed by volcanic vapors emanating from a vent.)
The trail jackknifes back and forth, up and down before ending three miles later — and more than 1,800 feet below — in the Fajγ de Sγo Joγo, an assemblage of whitewashed, red-tile-roofed houses. The village has a chapel with 19th-century cast-iron bells and a forlorn but friendly cafe that serves ice cream and ice-cold beer.
Each fajγ has its own semitropical microclimate, and the Azoreans long ago carved terraces into the hillside where they still grow potatoes, bananas, figs, taro and coffee, as well as grapes for wine made in ancient stone presses. Once I met a man on the road who insisted I try his homemade white, a sturdy, earthy vintage that by the third glass left me woozy. (There’s a road down to Sγo Joγo, and in such circumstances it is best to call a taxi.)
The best of the three marked paths — there are four now — is the one that begins at the old milkshed and rows of hydrangeas and leads from the island’s ridge to the Fajγ da Caldeira de Santo Cristo, famous for its lagoon and the cockles in it (the only place in the Azores where they live). Because of the cockles’ scarcity, the locals are allowed to harvest them only from Aug. 15 to May 15. Five swinging gates punctuate the trek. They are fashioned from local wood in warbled designs that recall Gaudν and are perfectly balanced to swing shut, though you are asked to make sure they close so that cows do not escape from field to field.
The hills are covered in dense forests of heather and cedar, interspersed with steep pastures. On some trips I have met herders or other tourists, but last year we descended in solitude. The clouds above us did not obstruct the view of two other islands, Terceira to the right and Graciosa to the left.
The first stone house on the path appears more than an hour later. It is abandoned, probably after the earthquake on New Year’s Day 1980, which devastated much of the island and hastened emigration. Just past it, however, is another house, newly painted, a sign that life here perseveres.
The path crosses a stone bridge, and another trail, barely discernible, leads off to the right, dropping into a grove of dragon trees. It twists around two boulders and leads to a waterfall feeding a small swimming hole, a perfectly shaded place to rest.
The main path dips, crests and dips again, like a roller coaster. The Fajγ da Caldeira de Santo Cristo appeared. It has only a dozen or so stone houses, nestled at the base of Pico do Brejo, which looms nearly 2,500 feet above. The village’s most visible landmark, aside from the lagoon, is the church, also Santo Cristo, a small stone structure, with a bell tower. It is never locked.
At Caldeira, you have a choice: you can continue walking another three miles to the Fajγ dos Cubres or go back up the way you came. I did that, once. Better to continue past the lagoon, the abandoned cemetery and the mostly abandoned fields of Fajγ dos Tijulos. The path rises and falls again before reaching the Fajγ dos Cubres, which also has a lagoon and a church with an altar made from cork.
A paved road reaches Cubres (though it, too, was swept away a few years ago and was closed for a couple of years), and after a cold drink in the cafe opposite the church, you can ride back to the top of the mountain.
This year, for the first time, the island’s village councils began organizing tours that are led by old-timers. The project is intended to help others learn what I discovered by happenstance: that these old, nearly abandoned paths contain, as a brochure put it, “a memory that is important to preserve.”
VISITOR INFORMATION
WALKING TOURS
Aven Tour (351-295-416-711 or 351-963-219-751; on the Web, only in Portuguese, at www.aventour-net.com) in Calheta, Sγo Jorge’s second town, organizes walking tours on the island.
WHERE TO STAY AND EAT
The Hotel Sγo Jorge Garden (351-295-430-100; fax 351-295-412-736; on the Web, only in Portuguese, at www.hotelsjgarden.com) is the biggest and most traditional hotel in Velas, the island’s main town, with double rooms costing 65 euros, (about $85 at $1.30 to the euro) in winter.
The Casa do Antσnio, (351-295-430-330; fax, 351-295-432-008; e-mail antonio@viagensaquarius.com) opened last year in a rambling structure overlooking the harbor in Velas; a statue of a mermaid is perched atop the building. Next summer, prices for a double will be 88 euros and a “quarto da torre” — a room in one of the turretlike towers — will be 100 euros. Doubles in October are 66 euros and only 55 and 65 euros November to March.
Not far away, above the quay, is the Restaurante Marisqueira Clube Naval de Velas (351-295-412-945), which specializes in seafood. Dinner for two costs 30 to 40 euros.
The Quinta do Canαrio (351-295-412-800; fax, 295-412-802; on the Web, only in Portuguese, at www.quintadocanario.com) is a small stone house in Santo Amaro, with a private double with a bathroom for 100 euros and two rooms that share a bathroom at 90 euros each.
Sometime in the last year or so someone put up a sign. Between it and what remains of a rough-hewn wooden milking shed, forsaken now for mobile machines, the path plunges between two rows of hydrangeas with bright blue flowers as plump as muskmelons, and the inevitable deposit that marks it as a regularly traveled cow path.
The Azores — and Sγo Jorge particularly — are covered with these paths. They are called canadas or caminhos and they crisscross the rugged Azorean landscape, bisecting pastures and linking towns and villages. On Sγo Jorge, they provide the only access — except by sea — to some of the island’s fajγs, seaside villages built on the flatlands created from the subsidence of the volcanic peaks.
In recent years, the authorities in the Azores, a semiautonomous region of Portugal in the Atlantic, have begun marking these paths, hoping to attract tourists willing to hike up and down the very edge of Europe. I have been coming to Sγo Jorge since 1991, the year I married an ιmigrι born on the island, and back then I would hear of some of these paths, like lore, from my wife’s relatives. Others we encountered simply by starting down a village road, which would ultimately devolve into a foot-trail and then descend into the verdant ravines that cleave the island.
One of the first I trekked began in the village of Santo Antγo, where my father-in-law, Josι Xavier, grew up, and ended in Cruzal, the village of Teresa Luis, my mother-in-law. The walk is only two miles or so, but steep in places, and retracing his footsteps I came to appreciate the effort he made to court this woman some 50 years ago.
The paths are not exactly a step back in time, but at least a long walk into a simpler place of natural beauty, unspoiled but for the necessity of earning a living. On Sγo Jorge this means milking cows and making a pungent cheese named for the island.
The longest trail winds for several miles along the island’s uppermost ridge, passing the highest peak, Pico da Esperanηa, nearly 3,400 feet above sea level, at the top of which you will find a small lake nestled in a meadow of mountain grass and flowers. From here, on a clear day, you can see the four other islands of the Azores’ central group.
Another begins at Fajγ dos Vimes, a village on the southern coast. Hugging the coast, the path leads to Fajγ dos Bodes, but a couple of years ago a rockslide severed the path, which has yet to be restored I picked up the path farther on, past a riotously pink church.
Starkly visible across the strait is the island of Pico, named after its dominant geographical feature, a perfectly conical volcano that is the highest point in all of Portugal at 7,713 feet. (In 2004, I climbed Pico with a guide and ate lunch on the summit, sitting above the clouds, warmed by volcanic vapors emanating from a vent.)
The trail jackknifes back and forth, up and down before ending three miles later — and more than 1,800 feet below — in the Fajγ de Sγo Joγo, an assemblage of whitewashed, red-tile-roofed houses. The village has a chapel with 19th-century cast-iron bells and a forlorn but friendly cafe that serves ice cream and ice-cold beer.
Each fajγ has its own semitropical microclimate, and the Azoreans long ago carved terraces into the hillside where they still grow potatoes, bananas, figs, taro and coffee, as well as grapes for wine made in ancient stone presses. Once I met a man on the road who insisted I try his homemade white, a sturdy, earthy vintage that by the third glass left me woozy. (There’s a road down to Sγo Joγo, and in such circumstances it is best to call a taxi.)
The best of the three marked paths — there are four now — is the one that begins at the old milkshed and rows of hydrangeas and leads from the island’s ridge to the Fajγ da Caldeira de Santo Cristo, famous for its lagoon and the cockles in it (the only place in the Azores where they live). Because of the cockles’ scarcity, the locals are allowed to harvest them only from Aug. 15 to May 15. Five swinging gates punctuate the trek. They are fashioned from local wood in warbled designs that recall Gaudν and are perfectly balanced to swing shut, though you are asked to make sure they close so that cows do not escape from field to field.
The hills are covered in dense forests of heather and cedar, interspersed with steep pastures. On some trips I have met herders or other tourists, but last year we descended in solitude. The clouds above us did not obstruct the view of two other islands, Terceira to the right and Graciosa to the left.
The first stone house on the path appears more than an hour later. It is abandoned, probably after the earthquake on New Year’s Day 1980, which devastated much of the island and hastened emigration. Just past it, however, is another house, newly painted, a sign that life here perseveres.
The path crosses a stone bridge, and another trail, barely discernible, leads off to the right, dropping into a grove of dragon trees. It twists around two boulders and leads to a waterfall feeding a small swimming hole, a perfectly shaded place to rest.
The main path dips, crests and dips again, like a roller coaster. The Fajγ da Caldeira de Santo Cristo appeared. It has only a dozen or so stone houses, nestled at the base of Pico do Brejo, which looms nearly 2,500 feet above. The village’s most visible landmark, aside from the lagoon, is the church, also Santo Cristo, a small stone structure, with a bell tower. It is never locked.
At Caldeira, you have a choice: you can continue walking another three miles to the Fajγ dos Cubres or go back up the way you came. I did that, once. Better to continue past the lagoon, the abandoned cemetery and the mostly abandoned fields of Fajγ dos Tijulos. The path rises and falls again before reaching the Fajγ dos Cubres, which also has a lagoon and a church with an altar made from cork.
A paved road reaches Cubres (though it, too, was swept away a few years ago and was closed for a couple of years), and after a cold drink in the cafe opposite the church, you can ride back to the top of the mountain.
This year, for the first time, the island’s village councils began organizing tours that are led by old-timers. The project is intended to help others learn what I discovered by happenstance: that these old, nearly abandoned paths contain, as a brochure put it, “a memory that is important to preserve.”
VISITOR INFORMATION
WALKING TOURS
Aven Tour (351-295-416-711 or 351-963-219-751; on the Web, only in Portuguese, at www.aventour-net.com) in Calheta, Sγo Jorge’s second town, organizes walking tours on the island.
WHERE TO STAY AND EAT
The Hotel Sγo Jorge Garden (351-295-430-100; fax 351-295-412-736; on the Web, only in Portuguese, at www.hotelsjgarden.com) is the biggest and most traditional hotel in Velas, the island’s main town, with double rooms costing 65 euros, (about $85 at $1.30 to the euro) in winter.
The Casa do Antσnio, (351-295-430-330; fax, 351-295-432-008; e-mail antonio@viagensaquarius.com) opened last year in a rambling structure overlooking the harbor in Velas; a statue of a mermaid is perched atop the building. Next summer, prices for a double will be 88 euros and a “quarto da torre” — a room in one of the turretlike towers — will be 100 euros. Doubles in October are 66 euros and only 55 and 65 euros November to March.
Not far away, above the quay, is the Restaurante Marisqueira Clube Naval de Velas (351-295-412-945), which specializes in seafood. Dinner for two costs 30 to 40 euros.
The Quinta do Canαrio (351-295-412-800; fax, 295-412-802; on the Web, only in Portuguese, at www.quintadocanario.com) is a small stone house in Santo Amaro, with a private double with a bathroom for 100 euros and two rooms that share a bathroom at 90 euros each.
A stone church nestled in the side of the mountain.
(Brexians lair)
4/10/06
3/10/06
30/9/06
The Making of Modern Greece
An international conference at King's College London looks into the Greek experience of nation-building in the 19th century
A visionary, Rigas Ferraios - aka Velestinlis - was behind the 1797 publication in Vienna of a constitution for a future 'Hellenic Republic'. He paid for his ideals with his life shortly afterwards
EVERY Greek and every friend of the country knows the magic date of 1821, when the banner of revolution was raised against the empire of the Ottoman Turks, and the story of 'Modern Greece' is usually said to begin. What is less well known, but almost more important, is that just eleven years later, in 1832, the newly independent state of Hellas was recognised by international treaty, with the full rights of a sovereign nation. Greece was only the second of the new nation-states of modern Europe to be recognised in this way (pipped by just two years by... Belgium).
Historians of Modern Greece have not always paid sufficient attention to this fact, which places the Greek achievement of an independent nation-state, so early in the nineteenth century, in the forefront of the emergence of the modern political and intellectual movement known today as nationalism. Historians of the movement, whose origins are generally supposed to lie in the ferment of ideas that reached its peak before and after the French Revolution of 1789, may learn much from studying the Greek experience during those years. Nationalism is still a very potent force in world politics today - just think of the breakup of the former Yugoslavia, only a few years ago, or the present conflict in the Middle East. Those who try to understand the powerful appeal that the idea of the nation can have over the intellects and emotions of its members ought to interest themselves in charting, much more rigorously than has yet been done, the ferment of ideas that accompanied the birth and early years of the modern Greek state.
The year 1797 saw the publication, in Vienna, of a constitution for a future 'Hellenic Republic' by Rigas of Velestino (sometimes also known as Ferraios). No such state existed at the time, of course, and Rigas paid for his visionary ideals with his life shortly afterwards. But a century later, in 1896, the capital of independent Greece, Athens, was chosen by an international committee as the first venue of the newly revived Olympic Games, an event that established the greatest international sporting fixture of modern times. The achievement of nationhood had not only transformed Greece; it had also very radically changed ways of thinking, both among Greeks themselves and those who interacted with them.
How did this come about? How were the new ideas expressed and disseminated? What were the roles of philhellenes, critics and other observers outside the country? The answers to these and other related questions were sought at an international conference held on September 7-9, at King's College London, under the auspices of the college's Centre for Hellenic Studies, in collaboration with the Institute for Neohellenic Research, part of the National Hellenic Research Foundation in Athens.
Print of Rigas' so-called Charta (map)
The theme of the conference was "The Making of Modern Greece: Nationalism, Romanticism, and the Uses of the Past (1797-1896)". It attracted over 30 speakers, from institutions in Austria, France, Italy, and Russia, as well as from Greece, the UK and the US. The focus throughout was not so much on the well-known milestones on the way to the creation of the Greek nation-state, but rather on the thought-processes that underpinned nationalism and made that achievement possible. Speakers were encouraged whenever possible to bring a comparative dimension to their work so that Greek ideas, attitudes and achievements would be considered not in isolation but in relation to comparable trends elsewhere in Europe and the region.
Under the title "Comparative Nationalism", the concluding panel included Suzanne Marchand (Louisiana State University), a specialist on romanticism and philhellenism in 19th-century Germany, and Samim Akgonul, who researches in social history at the University of Strasbourg in France, and has written on the vexed issue of relations between Greece and his native Turkey during the 20th century. Also speaking in this session was Robert Holland, of the Institute of Commonwealth Studies, London, who has just published (with Diana Markides) ground-breaking work on successive British 'colonial' confrontations with Hellenism: in the Ionian Islands, in Crete and in Cyprus. Then, from the point of view of a classicist with a strong comparative interest in the way history has been written in modern and ancient times, Henrik Mouritsen, of the Department of Classics at King's, rounded off this session by suggesting that modern Greece has been much more successful than modern Italy in mobilising a vision of the country's classical past so as to capture the imagination and the loyalty of its citizens.
Other panels tackled such subjects as 'Religion and Nationalism', the juxtaposition of western European perspectives on emerging Greece with emergent Greek perspectives on their neighbours in the Balkans and Europe, and the nature and wider impact of the perennially controversial 'Language Question' in Greece. Archaeology, and attitudes to the progressive uncovering of a sometimes unfamiliar past, formed the backbone of two sessions. In others, speakers addressed questions of political and social developments (with particular reference to the Ionian Islands under British rule from 1815 to 1864), the role of literature in shaping the national imagination, and parallel developments in the daily press, in opera and music, in visual arts and in public architecture.
The first of two 'keynote' speeches was given by Paschalis Kitromilides, director of the Institute for Neohellenic Research and professor of Political Science at the University of Athens, who called for the study of Greek intellectual history to be 'canonised', through wider recognition by scholars in other countries dealing with comparative and theoretical issues. The second, by Anthony D Smith, applied the insights of the one of the most influential and original political scientists of the day to the specific case of Greece. A notable aspect of the conference was the interaction between distinguished experts in their respective fields (including, among others, Mark Mazower, Charles Stewart, Michael Llewellyn Smith, who was recently British ambassador to Greece, Peter Mackridge, Alexis Politis and Dimitris Tziovas) and younger scholars, now completing their doctorates or in junior academic positions, who will take the subject forward into the next generation.
So, what does the Greek experience of nation-building in the 19th century have to teach academics and policymakers in the globalised world of the 21st century? I cannot claim that our discussions in London produced any short, sharp, 'sound-bite' answers to the questions raised by the conference. But I do believe that, thanks to the many scholars who took part and to an excellent organising team on the ground, something worthwhile was achieved in defining the questions that future research will have to answer. In these fields of enquiry, just as in the 'hard' sciences, working out how to formulate your question properly can already take you a long way towards finding the answer.
* The writer is Koraes Professor of Modern Greek and Byzantine History, Language and Literature at King's College London. He contributed this review to the Athens News
ATHENS NEWS , 22/09/2006, page: A40 Article code: C13201A401
(Brexians lair)
26/9/06
A Touch of Greece, and a Spatter of Grease
ΤΟ ΕΛΛΗΝΙΚΟ ΔΑΙΜΟΝΙΟ ΣΤΗΝ ΑΜΕΡΙΚΑΝΙΚΗ ΠΡΩΤΕΥΟΥΣΑ
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, September 24, 2006
When Homer Bacas moved his family to the Virginia suburbs in 1960, he bought a brick rambler on an acre in Fairfax County. It was on a dirt road with a hand-lettered sign that read "Atheans Road."
He promptly went to the courthouse and got county officials to agree to give his street the name "Athens Road." The faulty spelling of an early land surveyor was corrected, but it was also Bacas's sly way of putting his Greek heritage on the county map.
His father, Angelos Bacas (pronounced BACK-us), came to Washington as a young man and eventually brought three brothers with him. They ran a series of restaurants across the city, including the Bacas Bros. Cafe on Capitol Hill.
In 1919, Angelos Bacas opened the evocatively named P.O. Visible Lunch on North Capitol Street. The "P.O." came from its location near the main post office and the Government Printing Office; "Visible Lunch" referred to the glass-front cases that allowed customers to watch food being prepared in one of the city's first cafeterias.
It was part of a quainter, more relaxed Washington that was never forgotten by Homer Angelos Bacas, who died Sept. 9 of a stroke at 82.
An affable man with a ready quip and an inability to sit still -- "Do something, even if it's wrong," he liked to say -- Bacas recalled a city of long-vanished Jewish, Irish, Italian and Greek enclaves. He rode streetcars all over town for a nickel, and the public school system was one of the best in the country.
The first home he could remember was at Eighth and M streets SE in Washington, and one of his earliest memories was of aviator Charles Lindbergh as he emerged from the gates of the Washington Navy Yard across the street. For a year or two, Bacas's parents ran a hotel in Cumberland, Md., until a fire burned the mountaintop inn to the ground. The family then moved back to Washington.
As a young man, Bacas and his boyhood friend Bowie Kuhn, who later became the commissioner of Major League Baseball, helped operate the scoreboard during Washington Senators games at the old Griffith Stadium.
When Bacas graduated from Roosevelt High School, the principal summoned him and his father to a meeting, concerned that the teenager was getting in with the wrong crowd. The principal and Bacas's father decided to send him to Virginia Tech, far from the temptations of the city.
Father and son rode the train to Blacksburg, and once they got there, Bacas began to panic.
"What am I going to do for money?" he asked.
"Get a job," his father said, boarding the train back to Washington.
After two years of waiting tables and studying engineering at "VPI" -- Bacas insisted on using the old name of Virginia Polytechnic Institute -- he enlisted in the Navy during World War II. After the war, he returned to a bustling Washington and worked in the family's restaurants, becoming a skilled short-order cook. He would make breakfast for his family throughout his life.
In 1949, he married Estelle "Chickie" Mandris and began to look for a way to make his own way in the world. He began an extermination business, working primarily in restaurants, then in 1960 opened the Bacas Co. Real Estate, a Fairfax County brokerage firm that he ran until he retired four years ago. He focused on commercial properties and helped develop the Jermantown Square shopping center in Fairfax City.
As he and his wife raised their four daughters, they watched their community change from its early rural character -- his first neighbors raised horses and goats -- to a dense suburb.
The Bacases brought a touch of Greece to Athens Road every spring with a Greek Easter celebration for the extended family, complete with roasted lamb, eggs and all the traditional trimmings.
In 1972, Bacas and 22 of his relatives made a pilgrimage to Greece. They visited three of the four villages that his grandparents had come from, but as they approached the fourth -- his mother's home town -- she stopped and refused to go on. She preferred to remember the village she knew as a child, before time had wrought its inevitable change.
Six years ago, Bacas suffered a stroke that affected his speech, and his wife died in 2004. But until the end, he never lost his storytelling gift or his sunny view of life.
"My dad truly believed that everything he had was the best," said his eldest daughter, Diane Hoffman. "He was never jealous and never pined for what other people had."
For the past two years, he had a kitchen in his apartment at a retirement home. Each morning, he got up to make eggs for breakfast, just the way he had learned at the P.O. Visible Lunch so long ago.
(Brexians lair)
17/9/06
A WORLD OF COFFEE..
Coffees of the World
There’s more to a cup of java than rich, flavourful taste. Coffee growing around the globe has a story and heritage dating back over one thousand years. The lore of coffee in every country is full of legend, history, culture, intrigue, revolution, and yes, as with any good story, a bit of romance. So remember the next time you take a sip of Coffee, you’re not only tasting beans roasted by true experts, you’re getting a taste of the world.
The Americas
Coffees produced in the Caribbean, Latin, Central and South America is distinguished by light body, simplicity and sharp acidity. You’ll enjoy these coffees’ pleasant flavours and clean, crisp finish.
Brazil
The largest country in South America, Brazil is the leading supplier of coffee to the world and home to the world's largest rainforest, the Amazon, which spans much of the North. The finer coffee-growing regions of Brazil are found in the southeast of the country and ship through the ports of Vitoria, Santos, and Rio de Janeiro. The state of Minas Gerais accounts for over half of the coffee produced in Brazil. The climate conditions here are unlike other parts of Brazil. The seasons are very distinct which provides almost ideal conditions in which to grow fine coffees.
Colombia
Neighbouring Panama in north-western South America, Colombia is the only country on the continent with both an Atlantic and Pacific Coast. The coffee growing regions of Colombia start just above the Equatorial line and stretch north for more than 750 miles across the Andean Mountains. With geography encompassing the Amazon jungle to the east, the Pacific Tropical Rain Forest to the west, and the Caribbean Sea to the north, the climate and topography in this country are as unique as its coffee. Over 500,000 Colombian coffee farmers, known as cafeteros, tend to small farms that spread over 900,000 hectares of mostly shaded mountainous areas. These growers are represented internationally by the non-profit National Federation of Coffee Growers of Colombia. The Federation's goal is to help the growers develop agronomic expertise, improve their living conditions and promote Colombian Coffee to the world through activities like the "100% Colombian Coffee Program."
Costa Rica
Small and mountainous, this country is bordered by the countries of Panama and Nicaragua and the Caribbean Sea and North Pacific Ocean. Rugged mountains, referred to as cordilleras, separate coastal plains. The cordilleras divide the country into three land regions. One of which is Meseta Central, the country's main coffee-growing region, with soil rich from the active volcanoes nearby.
Guatemala
Guatemala is the southern neighbour of Mexico. Coffee is the #1 employer accounting for 40% of the jobs in agriculture. In this area of the economy people across different ethnic groups and social classes are involved. Guatemala has traditionally grown coffee under the shade of trees. These coffee-growing land areas are positive contributors to the global ecosystem. The coffee forest is a seasonal home to migrating birds, enjoyed by many North Americans. These birds fly thousands of miles in search of suitable habitats during the winter months.
Jamaica
Lying about 500 miles south of Florida, Jamaica is the third largest island in the Caribbean Sea. Mountains cover four-fifths of the country, with the Blue Mountains in the east peaking at 7,402 feet. Coffee is planted on terraces on the mountain slopes typically under the shade of avocado and banana trees. The mountainous terrain and cultivation methods require the ripe coffee cherries to be hand-picked. Cultivation is an art in Jamaica, supervised at every stage of development. To uphold the reputation and quality that has been built over the years, each export shipment is tested by certified tasters on the Coffee Industry Board.
Mexico
Just south of the United States and north of Guatemala, diverse topography with varying altitudes and climate covers the Mexican terrain. Only a small percentage of Mexico's land is suitable for agriculture, although there are over 100,000 small coffee farms, mainly in the south, the east and west coastal areas. On the western coast, volcanic soil is rich and winds from the nearby Pacific Ocean form moisture laden clouds that sustain a high-altitude, rainforest environment. This area, where many of the trees grow naturally under the canopy of shade provided by the native forest trees, is home to some of the world's best coffee.
Panama
Panama is located on a narrow strip of land that connects North and South America in Central America. As a land bridge between two continents, Panama has plant and animal life more diverse than almost anywhere else on Earth. Panama lies within the tropics, and about one-third of its area is covered with rainforest. Along each coast are low-lying areas, but inland are mountains that divide the country into north and south facing slopes. In the southwest, the province of Chiriquí has mountain slopes covered with rich volcanic soil. Due to a temperate tropical climate, coffees in this region can be grown at high altitudes over 5,000 feet.
Venezuela
Beans grown in Venezuela are classified as Maracaibo, Caracas and Puerto Cabello - the first and last taking the name of their shipping ports. Caracas coffee, named after the nation’s capital, is shipped through nearby La Guaira. Each notation can be subdivided further by the districts in which its principal plantations lie. Coffee farms are found at levels from 1,000 to 5,000 feet, with the better coffees generally hailing from the higher altitudes.Caracas growths are generally light and winy, with a peculiar flavour that many educated palates find pleasing. Puerto Cabello coffees are rated just below Caracas, grown at a lower altitude and correspondingly inferior in flavour. Táchira and Mérida coffees are considered the best of the Maracaibo. They tend toward sharp acidity when new, but mellow and take on body with age.
Africa/Arabia
Coffees in this region commonly have winey acidity, rustic flavors and intense aromas.
Ethiopia
Situated in the northeast, bordered by Sudan on the west and Somalia and Djibouti on the east, Eritrea on the north and Kenya on the south, Ethiopia is of diverse topography. Wild Arabica trees native to this rugged land date back 1,300 years. It is debated that the word coffee came from the Ethiopian town of Kafa. Although coffee accounts for a major share of this nation's exports, most of the coffee remains at home, as Ethiopia has one of the highest per capita consumption rates. In the highland forests of the southwest, where coffee trees grow wild amidst the tropical rainforests, the coffee is picked by hand, as it always has been. Despite the demand for their fruit, many trees go unpicked simply because they are found in remote, nearly inaccessible regions of the mountainous highlands.
Kenya
Situated on the eastern coast of Africa south of Ethiopia, Kenya lies with a leg on each side of the equator. The soil of the land is rich with volcanic minerals and home to some of the finest coffee trees in the world. Kenyan farmers are meticulous in the care of their crops. Specialty coffee is harvested in nurseries where it can be carefully nurtured. It is only after the coffee tree is 18 months old that it is transferred to cultivated ground and planted. There it continues to be tended for 3 more years. During the harvest the red berries are picked selectively by hand as soon as they are ripe, to ensure the highest quality.
Yemen
Yemen is situated at the southwestern tip of the Arabian Peninsula. The coffee growing highlands of Yemen are not desert, on the contrary they are rugged mountains, intensely terraced and cultivated, with austere stone villages rising from hilltops like dreamlike extensions of the rock. Found along the Red Sea, Yemen was home to some of the world's earliest cultures. Using traditional methods created over 400 years ago, Yemeni people still cultivate much of their coffees without the use of pesticides, herbicides or chemical fertilizers. Yemeni farmers and small traders know their coffees with the deep cultural intimacy that develops when coffee is a way of life rather than a mere crop.
Zimbabwe
Formerly known as Southern Rhodesia and then as Rhodesia, Zimbabwe was named after the famous 14th-century stone-built city of Great Zimbabwe, located in the southeast. The country is renowned for the Victoria Falls on the Zambezi River and for its bountiful wildlife. Zimbabwe's population is divided into two main ethnic and linguistic groups, the Ndebele and the Shona, the former mostly inhabiting the southwest. The capital is Harare which is the center of a rich commercial farming district. The economy is diversified, with services, industry, and agriculture providing a balanced share of the country's earnings.
The Pacific
Arabica coffees in this broad region vary greatly and are generally considered to be the finest in the world. They exhibit full body, gentle acidity and rich, full body.
Hawaii
Hawaii is the only state in the U.S. that produces and exports coffee. Coffee is grown commercially on four of the six major islands: Maui, Hawaii, Molokai and Kauai. Coffee grows primarily on the islands of Hawaii and Kauai, with the coffees of the Kona region, on the west coast of the island of Hawaii, being the most highly prized. The mild Kona climate and volcanic terrain is ideal for growing fine arabica coffees.
Indonesia
Spanning along the equator over more than 3,200 miles of tropical-ocean, Indonesia shares borders with Malaysia and Papua New Guinea. Living amongst 6,500 of the 13,500 islands are around 300 different ethnic groups speaking 250 different languages. This creates one of the most ethnically diverse populations in the world. Many of the Indonesian islands were formed by volcanoes and are mountainous, rising steeply from the sea. The soil, fertile and rich in nutrients from the volcanic ash, encourages the growth of fine coffees. Farmers and agricultural workers account for two-thirds of the Indonesian population and live in small rural villages. They enjoy the modern ways of life, but also continue to follow many of the ancient customs of their ancestors.
Papua New Guinea
Papua New Guinea, located north of Australia and east of Indonesia, occupies the eastern half of the island of New Guinea and several hundred smaller islands. Most Papua New Guineans live in rural villages along the coast or in the rugged interior. High mountains and rainforests isolate many villages, although a network of roads and airstrips serves mines and plantations. Port Moresby, located on the mainland's southeastern coast, is the country's capital and largest city. For the native people of the New Guinea highlands, coffee is a very important agricultural export.
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