A brief musing on farm subsidies

Perhaps it is time to reconsider farm subsidies? Paying large farms vast sums of money not to grow crops seems counterproductive when commodity prices are rising to all time highs.

For example: Corn is trading at $302/ton, which is over 75% higher than the price at this time last year and over 100% (double) the average price of corn for the last 30 years. Soybeans, wheat, sugar, beef, and cotton (just to name a few) are all currently trading close to 100% above their 30 year average, with nearly all of the increases coming in the last 4 years. Salt is currently over 300% higher than its 30 year average (although it is still lower than it was during the height of the "economic crisis").

The damage caused by this vast jump in the price of basic food products could be catastrophic to places where the people don't have the opulent luxury of eating four course meals or even the option of grabbing a dollar cheese"burger" for a quick lunch. If what the World Bank is peddling is true, that the price increases are due to higher demand and severe weather in vulnerable nations, then why not allow the aptly named "Breadbasket" of the United States roar to life this summer? Subsidies were put in place to maintain a stable price in the market so that the market didn't consume itself and drive the price of crops to unsustainably low levels for farmers. If the prices have risen due to increased demand and the supply is being artificially limited by subsidies, then the subsides have become a double edged sword, disemboweling both the agricultural capacity of the United States and those too poor to afford food all over the world.

One of the problems is the agricultural lobby, its difficult to pass up getting paid to not produce anything. The average annual payout in farm subsidies over the last ten years is over 16Billion/yr (yes, with a B and a lot of zeros) (2009 numbers). With budget cuts and "austerity" becoming the new mantra for the government, and the global price of commodities flirting with their all time highs (many of which were set in 2009), keeping subsidies at their current levels seems...absurd.

I am by no means an expert on this issue, and I welcome all criticism and feedback that can help me understand it better.

Day 6: Oaxaca

We left Mexico City at about 3:30 Christmas day, a little bit hungover from the high class Christmas party we attended the night before, and hoping that the holiday traffic would be a light. After some initial technical malfunctions with the fuse in the stereo system of Carlos’ car, we hit the mean streets (aka “highways”) of Mexico City. The traffic wasn’t bad, but in true Mexico City fashion we got caught up in a number of choke-points that slowed us down. Whoever designed the highway system in Mexico City should be hunted down, tarred and feathered, then forced to drive every kilometer of his monstrous creation daily. It looks like it was created by a six year old, roads merging with other roads, bridges randomly scattered about to ease congestion on the roads underneath them, required U-turns to access important roads and basically everything else a city of 30 million people need to have congested roads. After an hour long slog through D.F., we finally got on the toll road to Puebla, which was the exact opposite of the roads in the city. It was mostly four lanes, no potholes or topés (speed bumps-a national obsession in Mexico), and fast. The only hiccups came from the tolls, which were surprisingly frequent and expensive as they ranged from 30 to 80 pesos ($2.75 - $6.50). We cruised through Puebla in about an hour and a half and then got on the smaller, not as well maintained road to Oaxaca, which had even more casetas (tolls). By this time it was starting to get dark so we weren’t able to appreciate the mountains that we were driving over.

We arrived in Oaxaca at about 9, an hour later than we anticipated, but it was worth it because we stopped to buy some tacos de cecina (salted beef) at a little hotel on the way and also to buy some moonshine mezcal from a little tienda at a caseta on the edge of Oaxaca. The tacos were good, the mezcal was scary because we weren’t sure how safe it was…but we proceeded to drink some anyways. Worn out from being in the car all day, and not having a place to sleep for the night, we headed towards zocalo to see if we could score a cheap hostel for the night. The Lonely Planet book that I brought helped us locate one pretty quickly, but it cost about $14 a night and, being too rich for our blood, decided to shop around for an alternative. Downtown Oaxaca has a ridiculous amount of hotels, and since it was Christmas, they were all empty. The Lonely Planet book was from 2006, and about 1/3 of the places that were in it had already shut down or changed ownership. We ended up staying at a quiet little hostel that offered us a room for 80 pesos a person and had a pretty nice rooftop to hang out on. Since we were the only tenants, the place was good for sleeping, not partying. After a quick change of clothes, we ran out to get some grub. There was a little red stand in front of the market that sold a Oaxacan specialty, tlyudas, Carlos had eaten there before and recommended them highly. A tlyuda is basically an enormous toastada that is cooked on a grill with quesillo (queso de oaxaca), beans, and then whatever choice of meat is offered. The shell is crispy, and the inside warm and gooey. Add some salsa, fold it in half and it makes one hell of a late night snack. They cost about 30-40 pesos, but they are big so usually you only need to eat one.

After stuffing our faces with tlyudas, we decided to go find some trouble...so we went bar hopping. Unfortunately, most of the bars that were around were empty (Christmas), but we found one that had a pretty young, metropolitan crowd and they served hookahs. Beers (chelas) were cheap, so we got down to business. The bar itself was cool, it had retro signs all over the walls, my favorite was one encouraging gringos to ride with Pancho Villa for bags of gold. The DJ that was playing music that sounded like it was from the bar in Star Wars with all the crazy looking aliens, it was kind of surreal to be an alien in a bar with that music playing. By the time we got a table they were out of hookahs, so we opted for a bottle of tequila instead. Armed with a bottle of El Jimador, a bunch of Frescas, some ice and glasses, we were ready to party. We stayed until the bar closed, having finished our bottle and met some locals who knew of an afterbars spot, so we walked/stumbled there. The bar was a little dive about 8 blocks from the first bar, so we were hopelessly lost when we arrived. We walked inside, and it was like one of those scenes from the movies where someone out of place walks into a bar and the whole place gets quiet and looks at the door. Three tall gueros walking into a bar typically reserved for locals, looking back it is funny, but at the time I was drunk and afraid I might get capped. Some girls had come with us, and after we drank a couple of chelas they started to get uneasy and wanted to go. The place was a little bit intimidating…so we got the girls a cab and then got ourselves one to go back to the hostel. So far that night stands as our most crazy party night on this trip…which is crazy because we didn’t even do all that much.

Pardon My Siesta

Ok, if anyone is reading this and still cares, sorry for leaving off so abruptly. Our internet connections have been spotty at best and I haven’t had the motivation to leave the beach to sit in front of a computer. Can you blame me? I’m staring at crystal clear blue-green water, a warm, inviting sandy beach that stretches for miles around a bay, with pristine waves all over (even though the waves are their lowest of the year, which is good for me). Puerto Escondido is perhaps the most laid back, beautiful paradise on the planet. Right now I’m sitting in a hammock on the balcony of my hotel, watching dozens skydivers lazily drift to the beach as the neverending waves of Zicatella beach get shredded by great surfers. James and our new German friend Katerine are cuddled up together in a hammock. Carlos is engrossed with Fidel Castro’s autbiography. And Lotem, and Isreali surfer is watching the break…and whatever passing eye-candy happens to schlep through the alley underneath our balcony. The weather is perfect, 80 degrees with a crisp sea breeze and we can see the sperm whales migrating through the bay on thir way south for the winter, the only things missing are other good friends and family. But enough about Puerto Escondido for now, I have to write about Oaxaca.

Days 4/5: Feliz Navidad

Anyone who thinks Christmas was a big deal in the United States needs to come experience it here in Mexico. Whereas, back home, Christmas has slowly morphed into the shopping season between Thanksgiving and Christmas eve, with some obligatory family time and maybe a Christmas dinner thrown in somewhere near the end, in Mexico it is about two things: family and baby Jesus.

On Christmas eve James and I went shopping for a few small gifts to give our hosts since they are allowing us to stay in their house for free, even cooking us meals and cleaning up after us (well, Carlos' mother at least). It was refreshing to go to a store and not be assaulted by Santa, begging me to buy whatever was being hawked by a cardboard cutout in his likeness, with a display of shiny ribbons and bows. Granted, it was not entirely inescapable, some stores still went a little bit over the top, but it was refreshing to see a degree of maturity in the way Christmas was treated in the commerce sector. The one uniquely mexican touch were these enormous, paper mache stars covered in shiny tinsel that have appeared in front of many tiendas here in the city. Most of the shops and taquerias closed early yesterday, which was strange, because the streets are usually bustling but yesterday evening they were strangely quiet and empty. About 10 pm, mass ended, and the entire country poured out into the streets, dressed in their finest clothes with all the women cradling baby Jesus idols in their arms like a real infant. I couldn't help but laugh, it was a bachelors nightmare, to see thousands of women marching towards you, each one carrying a baby in their arms, unsure whether to run or accept life as the father of a million rug-rats...

We were invited to go to Carlos' uncle's house for a family Christmas party, and since I left my family behind (even though I invited them to come) I was honored to be accepted by theirs. We arrived at a beautiful modern mansion, not quite knowing what to expect. We were greeted by Carlos' cousins at the gate and they led us inside to one of the most beautiful homes I have ever seen. According to Carlos' father, the family is tight knit like the Corleones, aka, mafia style...and it showed. Inside were incredible works of art, portraits, still-lifes, landscapes, you name it, adorning every wall, statues in the corners, and the biggest gramophone (original record players) collection in Latin America. There were about 40 people inside all dressed up, mostly middle aged and older, sitting in the living room snacking on hor'dourves and sipping fine tequila and Malbec. I instantly felt a little out of place dressed in my travel gear and being a gringo, but Carlos walked James and I around the room and introduced us to all his aunts, uncles and cousins one at a time. The owner of the house, Salvadore, was incredibly gracious, and was eager to show off his incredible collection of gramophones, phonographs, and other ancient sound producing machines. He must have had millions invested in the collection, I've never seen anything like it.

Dinner was served at midnight, a Mexican tradition on Christmas, and the fare was delicious. A shrimp and vegetable soup to begin, followed by courses of salad, ham, turkey, fettucini (a little out of place, but still good), and then a dish called bacalao from Spain made from cod, shrimp, vegetables and spices that utterly melts in your mouth. After gorging ourselves because we waited until midnight to eat, the dessert trays arrived. Plates of candied fruit, baklava, flan, chocolate mousse, cookies, cake, halva, and chocolates were paraded in front of me, my teeth began to ache immediately. The party really got into full gear after dessert, when all the gifts under the tree were set out on the table, and then passed around until everyone had one. Then, a pair of dice were brought out, and everyone got a chance to roll them. If you rolled an even number, you were allowed to trade your gift with anyone in the room. It became a mad-house as everyone wanted to exchange, nobody kept the gift they started with but I ended up getting mine back in the very last trade. The gifts were all very small things, they were actually called "joke gifts" because the emphasis was not on the gift itself but instead on the act of being selfless and giving up something that you receive.

We hung out and talked for a bit, but since our plan is to head south towards Oaxaca today, and it was already 3 am, we decided to head back and turn in. So here I sit, waiting on the final word about the car and for James to pack so we can hit the road. Christmas in Mexico is quite an experience. The Catholic tradition makes Christmas a more sacred affair. The focus is on being with family, on attending mass, and on sharing a feast. It was humbling to have been accepted with such open arms by the family, and it was a Christmas that I'll probably never forget.

Feliz Navidad.