Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Olives

Olives. Photograph by Tim IrvingI've been avoiding my neighbour all week, sneaking out after he's gone to work in the morning. The reason is - it's the start of the olive picking season, and I'm trying to avoid making excuses for not joining in with the picking.

When I first arrived in Spain, over 7 years ago I used to volunteer a few hours of my time to help the locals pick fruit during the season. That first year I helped pick oranges and it was a great fun day out that included a memorable 3 hour lunch. The following year I volunteered for a spot of olive picking which I can only describe as purgotory, it gave me more aches and pains than anything I'd ever done before. It also gave me an insight into the value of olives.

Spain produces more olives than any other country in the world. It has so many olives that it exports the raw olives to other countries around the mediterranean, where they're pressed and re-exported as native olive oil. This is something to think about when you buy Italian olive oil!

Most olives are produced by modern trees that are bushy and grow about 10 feet tall. These are easy to manage and the olives are harvested by machines that shake the trunk and catch the olives in a net. But where I live the trees are old, some as old as 2000 (yes, two thousand!) years, and very big, so harvesting means climbing the trees and first shaking the branches then finally knocking the stubborn ones off with a stick.

Picking olives. Photograph by Tim Irving
But that's not the end of it, oh no!
My neighbour's nets are not big enough to catch all the olives which fall amongs the cabbages growing in the soil below, so we crawl on our hands and knees picking individual olives off out of the soil. After a short while the boredom and repetition becomes hypnotic, I can imagine it's similar to practising a Gurdjieff lesson.

Old olive tree Photograph by Tim IrvingOne old olive tree takes two people 2 - 3 days to harvest. It's hard on the back, neck/shoulders, legs, knees, and finger tips, which get stained purple. I have so much respect for the elderly men and women in this village who tackle this annual task without complaint.

So it's no to olives but I'm still happy to pick a few oranges.

5 comments:

  1. When the hubs and I train-tracked & back-packed it around Europe for 10 weeks, our nutritional staples were fresh baked bread, cheese, hazelnuts, fruit, Nutella, and Spanish olives with the pits intact. We do SO enjoy our olives and olive oil, and I had no idea the fruit could be so difficult to harvest. Olives are my favorite tree, and I currently have three, though they are young. Of course I've seen ancient groves, and wish I had at least one row of those old souls.

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  2. i had no idea! no wonder those little guys are so expensive when they are pressed!

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  3. Wow, I'm in awe of the ancient olive-bearing trees (I feel like I want to hug them) and the people who harvest their fruits (and them as well). Chapeau! Aren't there tourists or young people who volunteer? No idea how long I'd last doing such backbreaking work you mentioned, still I wish I could help out even just once or twice to experience it for real.

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  4. Well Tim, I know this has nada to do with olives, but ever since you posted about Eight Island Discs, I've been hounded and battered by thoughts of which eight I would choose. Oh, cursed eight! Why not at least a nice, round number like ten? So difficult, loving music as I do. My whole life has an underscore, a soundtrack. Missing are the French songs, the high school songs, the Tango music, the 80's. But after weeks of revelations, remembrances, knuckle biting, and indecision, I have decided to commit my list to you so I can move on. I've no blog, but if I list in yours (may I, Sir?), then the thing will be committed to print and it will be too darn late to change my mind. Here's mine, but you still owe us your last two!

    "Mr. Chow" by Acoustic Alchemy (to start each new day)

    "A Thousand Miles from Nowhere" by Dwight Yoakam (a nod to my country roots and to get the cryin' done for the day)

    "Chun Chun" by Buena Vista Social Club (time to get chores done, and this is something to represent all the Latin music I listen to)

    "Concierto de Aranjuez" composed by Joaquin Rodrigo (one of my favorite classical pieces and good for the late afternoon, and perhaps another tear or two)

    "Summer Breeze" by Seals & Crofts (moving into evening and missing mi esposo)

    "So What" by Miles Davis (my song for getting ready to go out, and for staying out)

    "Lord of the Starfields" by Bruce Cockburn (now I lay me down to sleep, still in God's hands, desert island or not)

    "Grace" by Bobby McFerrin (drifting off to the sweet thoughts of personal creativity that abounds at night)

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  5. When I was in college at Cal, I saw a film at the Pacific FIlm Archive called , if I remember correctly, " A little monastery in Tuscany". Among other delights, it documented a village gathering to harvest olives. Similar to the work you describe here. It, and the entire film, was entrancing. I wonder if you have heard of it, or seen it? Thanks for bringing it to mind- a second alottment of joy derived from reading your entry:)

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