Picking Olives

Since I won't be in California harvesting olives on my own farm this year, I asked my friend Jordi if I could go join his team as they worked the olive trees around his vineyard. Jordi was gracious enough to arrange for me to come Friday afternoon so that I can simulate the experience.

He warned that I should come in old clothes as they get oily easily. Since I didn't bring any grungy stuff with me to a new country, I had to go out and buy cheap stuff, took the train to Banyeres more than an hour away, and I was on my way. Jordi picked all of us up, but Mauricio stayed at Jordi's place with Isabel as he had to work on his paper. Then Jordi and I drove to the orchard in his fulgoneta.

His father and neighbor were already up in the trees. I admit I wondered what they thought about an American woman coming to pick olives! Jordi gave me a tool to comb through the branches, like brushing one's hair. The olives easily came off, sometimes with the whole branch. From the first moment I raked through the branch, I felt like I was at home. I imagined my mother and her family back in Sicily doing the same thing. A whole history coursed through me and I understood what the tales were about -- the black hands, the olive collections. It was relaxing and satisfying to comb through the trees while the neighbor told tales about his army experience, and the men told jokes in general. I understood some as they spoke in Catalan, and occasionally translated in Spanish.

Jordi told me that originally, the olives wouldn't be picked until they were ripe. He asked his father when they would start, and he chimed in the thirteenth of December through mid-March! Nowadays, the mills wanted a more complex flavor that is achieved by picking them around November. Harvest time is condensed into three weeks or so.

Once we were finished with a tree, we would transfer the olives onto one net, move the rest to the next tree. The one left behind, we would pile up the olives, and then cart them to the truck to sort through a wire grate, as I'm doing in the picture. As I was sorting through a batch, I came across a silver watch that fell off of the neighbor while he worked! Later, Jordi and his father would drive the whole batch to the local mill the next town away. Jordi said that after some time, if you stick your hand in the middle of the batch, it gets really hot as the olives start to ferment. I tried to take some branches home in my backpack, but I should have packed them better as by the time I got home, they already started to dissolve, and my pocket was all oily!

We picked about 7-8 trees that afternoon. We were in the middle of doing a rather large tree as the sun set. I wondered how long they kept it up without light. It was tough to see and I imagined I missed many. All at once, Jordi announced we were done. It was peaceful and beautiful. I felt so at home and thrilled to have the opportunity to do this.