Perhaps not coincidentally, it was one of the cheeky activists from Adam & Epfl, Konrad Messner, the innkeeper in Plawenn, who was interviewed (it probably pays to have connections in neutral places). In reference to the selling of land at high prices to incoming apple farmers and the subsequent spreading of trellising infrastructure and pesticides, Konrad summed up the reasons the Malsers were beginning to take a stand: “The question is, ultimately, do we want to watch, or do we want to do something about it?”
Governor Durnwalder caught wind of the article in short order; it was a downdraft of the Vinschgerwind. His response, captured in the local news magazine, was appropriately agricultural, although not altogether diplomatic: “That is simply unheard of . . . I find the reporting simply hogwash.”5 He went on to note that the article cast agriculture in a bad light, as damaging to the environment, when in fact the provincial guidelines for pesticides were set at less than half the allowable thresholds.
Of course, everyone knew that the timing of the article was auspicious: The apple blossom season is touted as one of the premier times to visit the region, and the article coincided with that influx of tourists. Ironically, spraying for certain diseases is considered optimal during the blossom period. The juxtaposition of an ocean of petals and plumes of pesticides can be a hard sell, especially to tourists savoring the beauty of hiking or biking through an otherwise romantic agricultural landscape.
While the story rattled the regional tourism sector and infuriated the South Tirolean Farmers’ Association and the apple lobby, it also alerted Durnwalder and Big Apple to what was coming. The cat was out of the bag. Not only did the article report the shocking results of the USGV poll of Malsers on their support for a pesticide-free future, but it also noted a new development: “On the previous Monday, a request was submitted to the Mals Municipal Council for a public referendum calling for a ‘pesticide-free Mals.’ Now it is being reviewed as to whether the request is allowable.”
Indeed, on April 22, 2013, Johannes had filed an official request from the first forty-seven “advocates” to begin the required collection of signatures that would call for a referendum on the banning of pesticides in Mals. First, however, town officials were required to verify the legitimacy of all of the signatures and the residency of each of the forty-seven advocates who had signed the request. Three weeks later, at the meeting of the municipal commission on May 16, the request was rejected due to formal mistakes made by both the commission and the signatories.
Big Apple and the bureaucrats were getting nervous. The Advocacy Committee was asking a local question that would rattle the region. The provincial power brokers knew that if they could derail the question, they would never have to deal with the answer.
Local control or the control of local? It was an odd conundrum for a province that had fought valiantly for its autonomy for decades.
After the Swiss newspaper had identified Big Apple’s cosmetic defects, Hermann Kruse’s presentation was all the more pertinent, given not only the rumblings in the international media but also the recent use of herbicides to “burn down” fields in three of Mals’s villages. Glyphosate, a widely used herbicide, was under much more scrutiny in Europe than in the United States, and recent scientific findings about the risks associated with glyphosate had raised red flags all across the continent. Concerns about the influx of herbicide use in Mals were particularly peaked at the time due to the recent sprayings, but Kruse wasn’t there to allay concerns. Rather, his task was to lay out his views, as a toxicologist, on the dangers of the pesticides used in fruit production.
He offered several key themes for the evening, one of the most important being that all synthetically manufactured pesticides are slow to break down and therefore leave residues in the food chain. The results are weakened immune systems for people, animals, and bee colonies. He cited research on 6,022 conventionally produced fruit and vegetable samples in which 43 percent showed “very high” residues and 56.2 percent were in the “high” residue level category. Although they did not exceed legally prescribed maximums, his concern was the mix of different pesticide residues and their potential impact on human and environmental health. With up to eight substances on some of the products, the concept of acceptable limits begins to break down. These limits don’t account for the effects of the mixtures, which can create unexpected problems for people with certain chemical sensitivities. In the worst cases, they even can be fatal. According to Kruse, “The structures of the substances are becoming more and more complicated today, making the analyses by the toxicologists increasingly difficult.”6
Despite the unsettling statistics and the complexities of the issue, Kruse did have a reassuring conclusion to his presentation: Organic agriculture demonstrates no known human toxicological concerns.
Apparently, though, organic agriculture did create concerns for the health of the status quo in the South Tirol. But the status quo is seldom an aspiration. It is usually a default, and the Malsers had a different future in mind. Seizing on the now public question of whether Paradise was about to cave to the power of apple, they turned a sacred motif into political theater in a matter of weeks.
On the morning of May 19, starting with birdsong and biologists at 6 AM on the Mals Heath, Adam & Epfl organized a dawn-to-dark series of events around the theme of seduction. They had everything to lose—and they were going to make what could be lost obvious, with guerrilla art and a showcase of local food and drink. It was nothing short of collective genius, in one of the most magnificent settings in the world. It was, in fact, Paradise.
Residents of the Upper Vinschgau awoke to a jolting surprise that May morning. In every town and in unexpected places across the landscape, they saw serpents. Not terrifying serpents but colorful snakes rendered from wood, paint, and textiles. Some were sculptures made of wood, papier-mâché, or variegated cloth tubes that somehow found their way into the most unusual but highly visible locations, even on one of the concrete World War II bunkers. Others were painted onto the asphalt of streets in the different villages. A few even found their way into Switzerland, a not-so-subtle reminder of the encroaching dangers that could slip across the border, undetected, until it was too late.
On the back of the event flyer, Adam & Epfl had even created a map that transformed the sinuous flow of the valley and the Etsch (Adige) River into a serpent, its head making its way up the valley. The map demarcated each of the towns and some of the events in the Upper Vinschgau with an apple—an apple with a bite missing. Above the map was the invitation: “At various places on the 19 of May, delicacies from Paradise, along with activities and events, will be offered. All visitors are invited to participate and collectively reflect while biking, hiking, and enjoying the landscape and making a personal contribution to the Paradise of the Upper Vinschgau.”
In each village, participants were greeted by various renditions of Eve in full greenery and natural regalia, complete with body paints. More than five hundred people showed up to follow the serpentine route “together with Eve.” Various versions of Eve appeared near each location, painted and costumed to accompany the participants, most of whom were traveling on foot or by bicycle. The women who gave up their identities for the day to act out their own interpretations of Eve held nothing back in the artistry of their costumes, and, with theatrical allure, they readily offered passersby the temptation of an apple.
Other event hosts sported spots and sleek garments, slinking through the milling crowds as body-painted snakes, offering temptations of various sorts, while the devil herself, dressed in red and black, backed up the serpents. Were it not for her devilish horns, she might have beguiled the more unsuspecting guests. One seductive serpent created a costume to match the live boa constrictor that she carried with her throughout the day, garnering a mixture of terror and delight.
The theatrical confusion was intentional—Adam & Epfl’s question for the day was, “Adam, Eve, and the Snake:
Who seduces whom in the Paradise of the Upper Vinschgau?” The event organizers explained the event’s intent in their brochure:
With the spread of intense fruit cultivation in the upper Val Venosta, questions arise. This leads to a disagreement about the paradise of the Upper Vinschgau: How will we live? In which landscape do we want to live? From what do we want to subsist? Which Upper Vinschgau do we want to leave to our grandchildren? The citizens’ initiative “Adam & Epfl” is of the opinion that all of these things should be discussed in the open because this development will permanently change the Upper Vinschgau region. This change affects not only agriculture, but also all those who live or vacation here in the valley. As part of a day of action, Adam and Epfl creates places of encounter, dialogue, and enjoyment and calls people to action in diverse ways.
The weather was perfect, and people of all ages and nationalities milled through the villages with family and friends in tow. Bicycles, backpacks, and strollers interwove along the bike paths and village streets throughout the day as people pursued their interests and their gastronomic callings.
The heartiest of participants began with a naturalist’s tour of the Mals Heath, the coveted location for any new apple plantations. Afterward, wise participants made their way down to Hofkäserei Englhorn where Alexander and his family served a traditional breakfast and then a variety of dishes that highlighted their cheese products throughout the day. They offered passersby cheese dumplings, a spring celery salad with hard cheese, and baked polenta with melted cheese on top. Choosing from the menu of choices after that became an exercise in self-indulgence, as many of the most intriguing restaurants and distilleries opened their doors and offered not just local foods and beverages prepared traditionally but also new delicacies—highlighting opportunities to wed entrepreneurial and culinary creativity.
In Mals’s family-run Hotel Greif, known internationally for its focus on whole foods and vegetarian cuisine, Adam & Epfl supporters served pizza, breads, and pasta dishes that capitalized on the hotel’s culinary themes. After visitors got a healthy taste of Paradise straight from the Garden of Eden, they were then invited to cave in to the decadence of the sweets and homemade ice cream at the café and ice cream parlor Fritz, which also offered samples of its birch sugar. A jaunt downhill to the train station in town, “The Entrance to Paradise,” featured professional face painting for kids and the young at heart.
Not far from the train station is the Panorama Hotel, with an organic café and organic distillery. One of the first certified organic hotels in Italy, the Panorama featured organic seductions of all sorts, as they do on a daily basis. The organic hotel is a strong draw for tourists, but the organic distillery is popular among locals, too, featuring a visually stunning array of distilled products from heritage fruits and local herbs, all crafted according to organic standards.
Across the valley in Glurns, the Puni Whiskey Distillery opened its doors to visitors and showed how it blended old and new, all to international acclaim. Opened in 2012, Puni (named after the river flowing nearby) produces Italy’s first whiskey in an ultramodern architectural wonder that seems to eschew almost all of the traditional Alpine aesthetic. Their various distillations feature local rye, along with wheat and barley, playing off local tradition while finding a new niche in the global marketplace. The distillery also found a perfect new use for some of the old World War II bunkers in the area. With their cool temperatures and high humidity, the sunken concrete structures provide the ideal aging environment for the distillery’s products.
Another jaunt landed participants in the town of Prad, where local beekeepers brought hives, displays, and samples of various honeys to highlight Evas Fleissige Bienchen, Eve’s Hardworking Little Bees. Setting up beside the bike path, beekeepers explained how they place their hives not just among different crops but also at different elevations. The various plant communities and blooming times of the different elevations create honey products from different plant species and elevations, the diversity of which is cherished by locals and tourists alike. Inevitably, some of the discussions focused on the complex relationship beekeepers have with orchardists and what it would mean to have more apples in the valley, as well as the differences between organic and conventional apple production.
Of course, any tour of the Upper Vinschgau with Eve would eventually land visitors in the closest thing the area has to a Garden of Eden, the display gardens of Edith and Robert Bernhard in Burgeis. The Bernhards offered the ultimate seduction: not just the opportunity to witness organic agriculture and biodiversity in situ, but the imperative to join the movement and take it to the next level, if only by having a home garden and relearning the skills of composting, seedsaving, and preparing raw, cooked, and conserved foods. While Robert demonstrated the virtues and how-tos of compost, Edith led visitors around the gardens, discussing the biodiversity of herbs in their collection, walking through the grove of heritage fruits, noting the stories and traits of each tree, and walking out of the orchard corridor and into the vegetable gardens, where she had a platter of colorful vegetables, edible flowers, cheeses, and rustic bread made with their own grain.
It was just another day in Paradise. But that was subject to change.
CHAPTER 10
Bedsheets to Banners
Martina Hellrigl was sitting in the styling chair of Laatsch’s local beauty salon, peering into the large oval mirror in front of her. She leaned from side to side to get a better look, not at her own visage but at the early-June beauty of the gardens on the other side of the sliding glass doors behind her. Beatrice Raas’s hair salon was much different from the salons she’d been going to in Zurich. Not only was it easier to get an appointment, but there was no stainless steel, no fancy lights. Its wood trim, expansive windows, gardens, and patio felt welcoming and soothing.
Born and raised in Mals, Martina had studied architecture and landed in Zurich to pursue her profession in a place where her husband, Koen Hertoge, a Belgian, also had a job. After becoming the mother of two small children, though, she felt a calling to bring her family back home. It just felt like a healthier and safer place to raise children. But she’d been gone a long time, and she was struggling a bit to find her way back into a new cast of characters in the community. She’d known Beatrice from earlier days, so she had come to her salon to seek out an old friend as much as to get her hair cut.
Beatrice appeared around the corner with a pair of scissors and began to toss Martina’s straight black hair between her fingers.
“Your garden is so beautiful,” Martina said, in dialect. “Your salon is a refuge from everything.”
For Beatrice, it was critical to have nature close by when she worked. “It gives me inspiration,” she replied, “and it’s nice for me and my clients to be able to sit outside and enjoy it. We’re so lucky to live in such a Paradise.”
Time had quickly slipped by since the activists’ brilliant guerrilla theater, but Beatrice’s mere mention of Paradise turned Martina’s attention to the town’s plight.
“Speaking of that, I thought I saw you at the Hermann Kruse lecture a few days ago?”
“Yes. You were there?” Worried about the changes she saw coming up the valley, Beatrice had wanted to ask Martina about the information session, too. She had been keeping her concerns to herself. Like many in Mals, she wasn’t quite sure if her fears and frustrations were isolated or widely shared.
“It was the first of those information sessions I’d gone to,” answered Martina. “I’ve been worried about the pesticides and the new apple plantations, but I haven’t really heard people talking about it. I was beginning to think I was the only person worried about all of it. I didn’t even know about the information sessions until this one.”
Beatrice sighed heavily. The session had confirmed a lot of her fears about what was coming. “As a mother, I’m worried for my kids, but I don’t know much about the science of it all,” she s
aid as she snipped. “We should all be worried about living in a place covered in orchards and pesticides, like they deal with down in the valley.”
Martina looked into the mirror and asked Beatrice directly, “Well, why aren’t we hearing more about it? Why isn’t anyone writing about it? Why haven’t there been any letters to the editor? It makes me totally crazy!”
Despite the brilliant guerrilla theater and the info sessions, area activists had a long way to go before they’d secured the future of Paradise. The regional media wasn’t picking up on much of the activity or helping to convey the information on pesticides and the loss of traditional agriculture in the Vinschgau. The politicians also seemed to be ignoring the calls for protecting human health in the face of such dramatic change. Even with the reassuring polling results, it wasn’t clear that anything was going to change. Big Apple was still growing, and there was nothing in its way.
“What can we actually do?” asked Beatrice as she set into a fast-paced rhythm of cutting, combing, cutting.
Martina confided that she had been thinking about writing a letter to the editor, but she didn’t want to do it alone and didn’t know enough people to ask to join her. “I’m still feeling sort of like a newcomer here.” Beatrice, on the other hand, didn’t really like to write, but she did have what she called “a great Frauennetzwerk (women’s network)!”
A Precautionary Tale Page 18