Nurnburg, Germany

Nurnburg, Germany


This past week I spent five days representing my organization, the association of organic farmers of Romania, at the BioFach conference in Nurnburg. This conference is the world’s largest organic trade fair and show and this was the first year that Romania had more than a token attendance. I and 14 others – farmers, traders, certification experts and supporters travel the 15 hour road trip to Nurnburg. It was quite the experience.

I was amazed. Amazed at the huge size of the fair, semi-amazed at the efficiency of the way over 2,000 exhibitors were handled, and fully amazed at the level of interest that Romanian organic products generated among buyers. I also felt useful as the main English speaker for my organization. Contacts were generated, that if followed through, will be beneficial to my association and to organic agriculture for years to come. I came away feeling that the businesses and farmers that took part, whether members of our association or not, were well pleased with the results.

I have no report of Nurnburg, itself, as all we saw was the conference center. Our hotel was in a little village about 40 km. south of the city. Groswiengarten was a town set on the top of a hill and consisted of perhaps 1,000 to 2,000 residents. Nurnburg is in Bavaria so this village was typical of that region. It was like staying in a Colonial Williamsburg. The houses were all in the traditional, high roof design, close to the road with lots and farm buildings behind the house. We are used to ‘old’ here in Romania, but in Germany every house in town had been completely remodeled into the 21st century without altering the impression of quaintness and charm of 200 years ago.

Groswiengarten was a town featuring the catholic church and our group of Romanian farmers accidentally stumbled into the carnival celebration on the Saturday night before Ash Wednesday. It was an experience. The women of the town, old, young and in between, dressed up in chicken costumes. They’d go from bar to restaurant to entertain, drink, laugh and drink some more. Some of the men were dressed as a cross between a circus clown and a devil, but once offered a little of the famous Romanian drink of Tuica, they became our best friends.

And when the chicken women found that one of our members was a veterinary doctor that raised over 1,500 head of poultry they became best of friends with him. When they mistook me for the mayor of St. Cloud, Minnesota I became a good friend to them as well. It was a good time, and harmless for us, for we were all careful about our intake of booze and beer – unusual for a group of Romanians – and were in bed by 11 pm. The chicken women stumbled down the street to the next bar, and I heard some of the party go by the hotel window around 2 a.m. headed home, or somewhere.

I’ve no picture of the chicken women, but I will post one of the village.