Lin Harmon-Walker

Report for October 23 (posted 10/28)

This was the day to return home, but I had half a day to wander around Curitiba and take pictures.  Since it was Sunday, nearly all businesses were closed - one hallmark of a society that identifies itself as majority Catholic.  My attempt to find a store open that sold field guides to the local birds was futile.  Lesson learned for next time!  At least I learned some of the bird names yesterday at the botanical garden, where mother birds were sheltering chicks out on the huge expansive lawn.  

Journal:
Without a lot of activity downtown today, the "bones" of the city were exposed to view.  There seemed to be a concerted effort by homeowners to beautify their properties with plants and trees.  I continued to be impressed with the variety of trees, not just the palm trees I expected. 

Curitiba receives a lot of rain, like Portland, and they are both garden cities. I had a lot of difficulty with Internet accessibilty and cell phone coverage here, plus the occasional power outage, but it forced me to really observe and inhabit this place rather than instantly interpret everything I saw electronically.  Looking forward to going home, but I definitely want to return to Curitiba for a longer stay some day, maybe out at the Mennonite B&B.

Report for October 22 (posted 10/28)

This was field day at the RCEs of the Americas conference, so I got way more walking in than budgeted for in my Ecochallenge.  The first part of the day was a ride on the city bus that took us to various stops around Curitiba and did a good job of covering all its highlights and neighborhoods, including in the botanical garden, the art museum and food carts across the street that reminded me strongly of home (except there were no vegetarian offerings), and the communities nestled in the forested hills (another reminder of home).  In the afternoon, we had an extraordinary long-distance bus tour to a Mennonite community in Parana and heard the story of how a colony of Mennonites in Ukraine fled the Bolsheviks and made a tortuous journey across Europe to Canada and thence to Brazil and Uruguay.  The houses were hand-built and each Mennonite family received some land to farm.  We visited an exquisite B&B in farm country and had a lovely dinner in their dining hall overlooking the fields livened by new lambs and foals running around their mothers (the seasons being reversed, this was spring in Parana).

Journal:
Landscape is so important: wide open fields, forests, hills, valleys far away from cities, where you can see vistas where your food is being grown and can watch the sun crossing the sky and sinking into the horizon.  Oregon preserved its farmland and forestland in the 1970s by imposing urban growth boundaries around its cities, and preserved the Columbia River Gorge with a National Scenic Act.; Curitiba is facing the challenges of urban growth, and I was able to have a conversation this evening with a professor about the difficulties of land use planning in Brazil given all the pressure to develop and the somewhat haphazard way things are built.  But for now the non-forested agricultural lands seem to be in good shape.

Report for October 21 (posted 10/28)

So my idea of posting my notes from Brazil is already a little messed up because of the time lag ... the first full day of the conference was the 20th, not the 19th, but at least these are being entered in chron order.  (I am still time lagged, several days after returning home.)

The second morning of the conference was spent at the beautiful eco-friendly business school, with organic gardens and examples of sustainable buildings (and a colorful staircase printed with the Sustainable Development Goals).  The North American RCEs made their presentations there in the morning.  We had lunch at the largest indoor farmer's market I have ever seen, then we moved to the Universidade Tecnologica Federal do Parana's Green Office building, an ingeniously crafted house/office showcasing sustainable building design and materials, for a talk about their specialization courses in sustainable construction.

Journal:
Today's walks through a variety of natural settings (parks, organic gardens at a school site, an ecoroof at the Green Office) really hit home to me how much nature can be integrated into cities.  Portland and Curitiba are different examples of this theme in terms of the setting and species that make their homes in the cities, but the dedication to public green spaces and the desire to build sustainably are remarkably similar.  It is no coincidence that both cities are considered Regional Centers of Expertise in Education for Sustainable Development.  

Report for October 19 (posted 10/28)

First day of the RCEs of the Americas conference, in beautiful Curitiba.  Today on the bus ride to the university we stopped at one of the striking city parks, then spent the day on reports from the Latin American RCEs sharing their work with environment and development.

Journal:
Evidence of colonialism is everywhere in Brazil in the public parks, but also evidence of the species of trees, plants, and birds that were here long before the colonizers.  The park we saw today in front of the university was originally facing farmland rather than the original smaller city of Curitiba.  The idea was that scholars should be connected to the land.  It's hard to imagine farmland where a bustling city grew, but the idea of being tied to nature is not so hard to imagine (and should be a fundamental part of education).  The birds here have magnificent voices!

Report for October 18 (posted 10/28)

Recirculated airplane air, recirculated airport air, the movement of people from one place in an airport to another, the waiting in lines.  It all reminds me of the old movie Koyaanisqatsi (Life Out of Balance).  Precious little nature to be had here, even looking out of the airport windows there are only stands of vegetation far away in the distance.

Arriving in Curitiba mid-afternoon, baggage claim, then a van to the hotel.  Voila, the tropics!  Curitiba has a reputation in Brazil like Portland's in the US - a "green" city.  It is indeed well stocked with foliage and palms and a tropical pine that looks very different from ours at home, all on the way from the airport into town.  The hotel is on the southern fringe of the city. There are numerous small parks within walking distance. So far the city is living up to its reputation.  The skies are gray, and there is evidence that we will have a rainy week here..

Journal:

After more than 24 hours of artificial environments, it is a relief to get out and breathe moving air and experience nature in the city.  Curitiba has a moderate climate and grows a mix of trees that is almost parallel to Portland's: there are evergreens here that I can't identify, but am hoping to find a field guide or native guide to explain.  

Our jet-lagged group spent the evening at a lovely reception in the Palacete dos Leões, a historic cultural center and former residence of the prominent Leõe family at the turn of the 20th century.  One of the delights of this venue was its display of local artists' work, much of it focusing on nature.  I took photos of the Palacete setting, the artwork, and as well as the trees surrounding the building, but sadly can't figure out how to upload them here.

Report for October 18 (posted 10/28)

Today begins the 26-hour journey to Brazil.  After a quick jaunt around the neighborhood I got a ride to the airport and spent the rest of today in airports and airplanes far removed from nature.

Journal:
Saying goodbye to my beautiful forested neighborhood, just as the sun starts peeking out of the clouds.  More rain is in the forecast but the sun after the rain is always a welcome sight.

The view from the plane is always spectacular (if not socked in).  Portland has good "bones": the West Hills, the two rivers (three if you count Clackamas), the rolling terrain, and the Cascades to the west.  Today provided a decent view of all of them.  So much vegetation in general, so many stands of trees, and the autumn colors provide a beautiful accent to the sturdy evergreens.  I'm heading for a tropical setting where the flora will be much different, and I'm reminded of my Indonesian student who used to come into my office to gaze at the forest outside my windows, never tired of marveling at how the trees change here into their beautiful fall colors - not a cycle of life the tropics experience.  

I am also reminded, looking down at Mount Hood, of how much we rely on snowpack for our water source in Portland, and how the abundance of water makes all the vegetation possible.  Climate scientists are continuing to warn us of what to expect as temperatures rise and snowpack shrinks: more melting in the spring, less available in midsummer when both fish and farms rely on it, drier summers, more wildfires and vegetative disease.  It is sobering that I am thinking about this while contributing to the problem by flying in a plane.  Although I bought a carbon offset for this trip through Conservation International's Alto Mayo, the roughly $20 donation seems like a pitiful drop in the bucket compared to the problem.  I've been an advocate for video conferencing for years, but nobody likes the idea.  But how else do we go internationally if not by plane?  How can we transform this insane system of getting around so that we are not creating a dystopic future for our children and their children?  Finding fast replacements for greenhouse-gas-producing fuels is the only way out I can see.

No more contact with nature until tomorrow, in Curitiba.

Report for October 17 (transcribed and posted after Brazil trip, 10/28)

Feeling better enough to get outside for short walks, but the wild weather continues, so I'm also doing the 360 nature observation from house today.

Journal:

Portland's climate is pretty mild compared to many other places, but the power of nature can still assert itself here.  Today thunder and lightning passed through the neighborhood and put on a show.  Although no one was hurt in our area, the lightning was strong enough to split trees in nearby Lake Oswego, and many areas around the city are flooding.  We're fortunate to be on the crest of a hill, and our floodwaters roll down Terwilliger Blvd into storm drains (if they are not blocked by leaves) and the water that comes into our yard percolates through our vegetation down into our natural-area back yard and into a tributary of Tryon Creek.  Although I sometimes complain about our modern-day disconnect with nature, I'm frankly grateful for habitation that shelters us from storms.  On days like this I think about the history of this place and how, before streets and sewers and sidewalks and gas stations and stores and houses and power lines filled our neighborhood, before Lewis & Clark and Fort Astor, these forested hills were hunting grounds for the Multnomah people and other Chinookan tribes who lived in redcedar plankhouses they built on high ground along the Willamette and Columbia rivers.  Although natural disasters were part of life in the Pacific Northwest (the Bridge of the Gods a reminder of cataclysmic landslide, the legendary great quakes, and the oral tradition of the Willamette Valley as the "valley of death"), the Chinook civilization lasted for at least 2000 years in the Nothwest and even traded with white explorers and settlers before disease and displacement ended their civilization.  But during their tenure here they lived in symbiotic relationship with nature in a way that is lost to us today.

Due to illness I posted yesterday's entry today, so now I will post another in the same day, which seems a bit like cheating, but anyway, here goes (this may happen later in the week in Brazil, as well).

Today (Sunday) I was well enough to walk in nature and observe the effects of yesterday's storm.  I walked out the front door and around our neighborhood and things didn't seem so bad.  There were sandbags set up to avoid basement and driveway flooding (one of the things about being a neighborhood in a woods - this neighborhood used to be unincorporated Multnomah County - is that some of the infrastructure of the rest of the city is missing - sidewalk, road drains, sometimes roads...

I'd thought the storm was relatively minor based on how it felt inside the house, but I was wrong.  When I returned home and surveyed the back yard trees for downed nests, I discovered two of our south yard trees lost huge branches that covered large areas of the yard. One of the destroyed trees was a plum tree.  I didn't see nests, but am hoping if any birds were sheltering in it they were able to get out safely.

Journal:

One thing about car culture is that from a car window, nature is relatively static and seen and felt in broad strokes.  You see the trees turn color in the fall; you see dead squirrels or occasionally cats on the road; you turn your windshield wipers on and off. You get to work and walk through a parking lot that might have a few trees or shrubs, and spend the day inside.  Maybe you walk to a cafe for lunch and see street trees, but they aren't necessarily the focus of your attention.  At the end of the day you reverse your commute and end up at home, where you might (if you are lucky enough to have a house) have a yard that needs mowing, or some plants in the garden.

Car culture is as anthropocentric as it gets.  I first realized this as a pedestrian in White Plains, New York, where I walked everywhere (having left my car at home).  From the point of view of a pedestrian, you are on somewhat the same footing as animals, with respect to cars; cars can easily kill unprotected creatures, and unless you understand the rules under which cars operate, you are at risk.  Humans have an edge in knowing the rules of the road, but even then the rules may not protect you; I learned to look all directions before proceeding on a clear "walk" signal, knowing that many car drivers either were oblivious or did not care that people were crossing the street (unfortunately in New York, the latter seemed to be the case an unnerving number of times - it was great to come home to Portland where drivers are more considerate).

Why this rant about car culture? Well, two things.  (1) It is car drivers' major personal contribution to climate change, which to extend the analogy is bearing down on all of us like a massive SUV homing in on an unsuspecting street crosser; (2)  it contributes to nature deficit syndrome, but it's only a symptom of a greater disease.  Our unnatural culture of long commutes to work combined with long hours indoors on the job takes us so far away from nature that it might as well not exist.  People pay lots of money for gym memberships because they don't have time to go on walks.  Some people are able to make up the lack of daily nature with weekend hikes and vacations in national parks or gardening, but nothing beats a day-to-day experience with nature in terms of seeing yourself in the context of the whole planet, not just the hypercivilized and stressed-out human superstructure.  And if too few people actually see what I get to see every day, there will be too many unconscious people hastening the inevitable result we are all hurtling towards at highway speeds.

We are fortunate to live in a Portland neighborhood where nature is everywhere and trees are abundant, and I thought I would focus particularly on my relationship with nature during this ecochallenge cycle.  What makes this ecochallenge particularly interesting is that I will be spending part of the time in Curitiba, Brazil, representing GPSEN at a conference for the Regional Centers of Expertise in Education for Sustainable Development, and I'm curious to compare access and approaches to nature in Portland and Curitiba.

My ecochallenge at home began inauspiciously, though, as I came down with a bad bug a couple of days ago and am still too sick to go out for a walk, but I did get to watch from the windows, so I had an opportunity to journal. 

My journal entry for today:

Lots of activity at the squirrel-proof bird feeders today, as birds and an enterprising squirrel with acrobatic talents gorged themselves in preparation for the downtime they would have in the storm due to hit this afternoon, which all of them seem to be sensing.  What looked like the same squirrel also visited our fig tree on the opposite side of our house and clung to swaying branches as he or she plucked a fig and ate it right there on the tree.  (Over the past couple of weeks, I have witnessed squirrels already burying nuts from our English walnut tree in both front and back yards.)  

Our house is surrounded by trees, including a massive western redcedar, and it has been fascinating to watch the stormclouds rolling in and the wind roiling the branches.  So far we seem to have escaped the worst of the storm in that the winds have not been as severe as predicted, though I also suspect the impacts on our house are buffered by the large number of trees in our south yard catching the south wind for us. Regardless of our safety, I always wonder how the wildlife fares in these storms and where they go when they hunker down.  In the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy which hit my neighborhood in New York, I walked on paths blocked by downed and split trees and witnessed the heartbreaking small dead birds on the ground, sometimes far from the nearest tree.  This sad experience seemed to me just a harbinger of what will happen as climate change makes all of us vulnerable, but none more so than the wild creatures that share our planet home.

I've been reading a book by Noah Strycker called "The Thing with Feathers: The Surprising Lives of Birds and What They Reveal About Being Human" and have gained a deep respect for the intelligence and culture of birds; I've been watching the corvids in our neighborhood with new eyes (though we can't escape our human bias when assessing birds' intelligence, which I think is a weakness of our species, crows certainly seem to share some human intelligence traits and they are definitely the Neighborhood Watch for all of their bird communities).  I (and other neighbors) seem to be some of the impetus for their squawking - "watch out, humans here." I can't really blame them, even though pretty much everyone here is a bird lover.  We are not always to be trusted.

People with no contact or understanding of nature, it seems to me, are missing out on something profound about our relationship with the world, which I think is the point of Noah's subtitle. Ignorance is bliss, though: if you actually open to the idea that other beings are sentient, what responsibility do you have in your relationship with them?