Olive picking in Tuscany

I rode in 1^st class!  My EU Rail Pass says it’s first class, but I’m pretty sure that the ticket people never really look.  Well the guy in Venice looked and booked me a first class train from Venice to Florence to Camucia.  It was wonderful.  I was in my worn out clothing, with my dreads sitting among business men and women in suits.  We got a little packet of cookies or crackers and a glass of wine too!  And the train ride was beautiful.  Italy has so many hills, valleys and solo farms on hillsides tucked away.  

Deborah picked me up from the station right from picking olives.  She took me to her house, a rustic Tuscan house.  I’m not sure how old it is, but it’s old enough that she isn’t allowed to alter it without permission from the town.  Almost all of the houses in Camucia are historically significant, dating from the middle ages or more.  Deborah’s house still has the original bread oven, wash basin and animal stalls.  I’m sure there is more I missed that was ancient, I mean just the trees alone are invincible.  You never know, maybe the house was originally Etruscan.  The house is two stories; she converted one of the animal stalls (on the ground floor) into the kitchen.  You have to walk outside to get to it.  The other two animal stalls she uses as storage space for olives and tools.  Soon she will be converting one of the rooms into a bedroom and connecting them to the rest of the house.  She only recently had electricity and water installed in the 90s.  Before then, she just roughed it; pumping water from the well, taking showers with sun warmed water and using candles at night. Sounds lovely. 

That night I also met Charlie.  He’s a quirky guy.  He was a nuclear physicist professor, working for Rutgers.  He’s retired now, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less sharp than he used to be.  He kept me on my toes with all different topics of conversations.  After spending two weeks together, he was trying to figure out a good job for me.  He said I had too much potential to just be a baker.  I’m pretty sure I will never own my bakery until I am retired anyway.  But retired from what is the question.  He thought city manager.  I don’t think that job suits me.  I don’t want to get myself involved in politics, and I’m pretty sure (unless it’s a small city) that job would be a lot of brown nosing and shifting through political agendas.

 Charlie and Deborah are beautifully in love.  It was so nice to see them dote on each other and tease and bicker.  They are also proud grandparents and parents.  I was overwhelmed with all the stories of their children and grandchildren. I loved hearing about Charlie’s grandson writing about music (he’s only 10) and about Deborah’s granddaughter terrorizing her parents in the early morning.

Deborah has also adopted some stray cats.  The momma cat has been around for a few years, and this year she had kittens in one of the storage rooms.  So Deborah cooks for them every morning.  She cooks up chicken with onions, carrots, garlic, chicken broth and bread.  It smells delicious and I’m sure it is.  She says it’s cheaper to buy left over chicken parts than to buy cat food.  And she’s right, it’s also better for the cats.  On the last day I was there she took the kittens to get neutered.  She is planning on taking them to Paris with her.  They are pretty much domesticated.  They have known her their whole six months of existence, so the move shouldn’t be that hard.  The momma cat, on the other hand, is wild.  She will stay the winter, per usual.  The momma cat will get spayed before Charlie and Deborah leave for Paris, but she has to see if Momma is pregnant again first.  I love people that take care of strays, and take them to get fixed.  It’s so important.

Let’s get to the bulk of my stay: picking olives.  It really isn’t all that hard.  I liked it and thought it was relaxing or as Deborah puts it “zen.”  I love it when the trees have ribbons of olives.  You can just pull them   off like you are milking a cow.  Of course not all trees are like that.  I also really enjoyed being on ladders and up high.  We are not allowed to climb the trees and the ladders must be securely fastened with a bungi cord.  I would prefer not to fall on my working vacation.  No one has ever fallen out of a tree at Deborah’s farm but it happens every year on other olive farms around them.  

While we are picking there is endless prater in the trees.   What is said in the trees stays in the trees.  I didn’t say much, I prefer to listen.  Some of the workers that Deborah has had before sang.  I am not confident enough in my signing ability to do that, it’s like karaoke all over again.  I didn’t do it Korea unless I was a bit drunk.  And drunk picking, on a ladder, just sounds like a bad idea.   

While picking you end up with endless hurt hands.  Not anything serious, just scrapes and little prickers.  I also got picking calluses, on my thumb tip and the whole length of my pointer fingers.  The other fingers have some calluses too, but my pointer fingers are cracked and discolored.  I love working with my hands and getting evidence of a job well done.   Part of the job also involves getting leaves in your eye, every day.  That was a bit irritating, who knew that olive leaves were so sharp? Deborah pointed out my ladder bruises the last day I was there as well.  I guess I just look like a mess.  No nude beaches for me.  But with all these little annoyances you look up from picking and you see the beautiful country side.  Deborah’s farm is situated on the side of a valley and you can see the ruins of a fort and a castle tower from her hillside.  And don’t forget all the other olive groves.

At night we would listen to music, do the daily crosswords together or just read before a late dinner.    Deborah’s son has an indie band, and they have made records.  We listened to the records quite a few times.  She is excited to see him succeed with the band he has in Paris.  Charlie prefers his classical music, but tolerates the noise and pokes fun at Deborah when she is singing to it. 

Every night Charlie would set the table.  Now you might think this is a boring fact, but he always set it different.  Every time.  Deborah says he has never duplicated a table setting since they have been together (12 years!).  I loved that quirky habit. 

 I cannot believe the amount of wine I drank while in Italy.  At lunch we had a glass or two and at dinner more.  When in Tuscany do as the Tuscans do.  So I did.  After working all morning in the grove Deborah would make us lunch and then, after more picking, an amazing dinner.  I swear that lady has an endless supply of energy.  Her meals were always fantastic.  I have never met a person who could cook so effortlessly and have it be gourmet quality every time.  I always had two servings at lunch and dinner.  I’m surprised I didn’t add on weight when I was there, almost everything was drizzled with fresh olive oil.   After all that amazing food we would have a fire and then go to bed.  The house is heated by a central fire place, and let me tell you, It did not keep that house warm.  But that is what blankets are for.

Let’s talk food.  What did I eat: prosciutto, cheese, espresso every day, artichokes with lemon and olive oil, fresh arugula salad, tomatoes from the garden, fennel, the best hummus I have ever had, lemon cream pasta, lamb ribs, steak, sausage, fresh baked bread, chicken cooked in white wine, cauliflower, more cheese, pumpkin soup, apples, figs, bananas, truffle Parmesan spread, wild mushrooms and the list could go on forever.  I never even thought about taking pictures.  I was so hungry I just dug in.  If you don't come to Italy to eat you are definitely missing out.

While I was at Deborah’s we pressed olives for oil four times.  Usually the small farms will combine their olives to press.  You want to press the olives as soon as you can after you pick them.  The mills smell amazing.  Olive oil saturates the air.  It is an interesting process.  They weigh them, then move them to be sorted and cleaned.  The machine that cleans them takes out the leaves and twigs.  Then they are heated, not too hot, and finally ground and pressed.  The process creates a bright green olive oil (something about the oil still being oxidized?) and a black watery sludge bi-product.  It was fun to go to the mill.  All the old men, and the farmers hang out and chat about this and that.  It’s almost like a party.  At night when they are pressing the olives they have food and wine in the back room.

While I was in Tuscany I got to meet a few other wwoofers.  Originally I was going to work on Louise’s farm, but she had to take her daughter to England for a few days for some exams.  So I ended up on Deborah’s farm, but before Louise left for England she had a dinner with the wwoofers that were staying with her.  There were two couples, one from England and another from America.  It was nice to meet the others and talk about their experiences.  I also got to meet Louise in person and her daughters. 

Deborah, Charlie and I also had dinner with the Jersites (from New Jersey) or the Guerrero family.  They bought the farm next door to Deborah a few years back and every year the whole family flies into Tuscany and picks all the olives in a week or so.  It is impressive, because they have a lot of trees.  So when they were finished picking they invited us over for their celebration dinner.  It was so interesting.  The Guerreros are Italian, but American.  It was a great mix of cultures.  We had wine (they made) and prosecco (sparkling white wine) lots and lots of grilled meat, bread, potatoes and great company.  Later that week the great aunt came to pick with us.  They were a very nice family.

I don’t know how I almost over looked the Books!  Deborah inherited her grandmother’s library and it filled my room (and a few others).  There were books everywhere; it made me want to stay forever.  I read Sense and Sensibility, Brown’s Fairy Stories, and The Piano Tuner.  Anytime I wasn’t picking olives I would be reading.  Charlie made fun of me on my day off, because all I did was read.  

I was lucky enough to go to Arezzo while I there as well.  Arezzo is an ancient Etruscan city.  And it’s beautiful.  The churches are full of frescoes and gorgeous architecture.  Unfortunately we arrived at night, to meet some of Charlie and Deborah’s friends, so many things were closed.  It was nice just to walk around and enjoy to old city streets in the romantic street light.  In the summer they have a Medieval festival called Joust of the Saracens.  It, of coarse, has jousting, turkey legs and locals dressed up in traditional garb. Deborah and Charlie's friend lives in a renaissance era apartment.  It was beautiful with thick walls, a kitchen in the basement and vaulted ceilings.  Just wonderful.  I guess they also have an amazing cellar that they are currently turning into a library.  The people we met were after my own heart, books, academics, interesting conversation.  We went to pizza after a few drinks at the house.  I was not impressed with my pizza.  I’m not sure why, but I just didn’t find it exciting or all that tasty.  Oh well.  I’ll try other pizza places when I go back to Italy in the future. 

We were unlucky enough to get a couple of storms.  Deborah and I tried to pick one morning after the storm, but we were getting soaked just from the leaves and olive dripping on us.  So we took the day off.  She took me Cortona, the main city in the area. 
Cortona is beautiful, just like everything in Italy.  It’s a walled city on one side of a mountain.  At the top there is a castle/fortress that is more like a ruin now.  But there is also a beautiful church.  I wish I had gotten a photo of the inside of the church, but lately I’ve been thinking it’s a bit disrespectful to take pictures inside sacred spaces.  So I gaze in wonder at the colorfully painted church and rely on the internet to inform you of how beautiful it is.  I also went to the museum.  This was founded by two brothers and has an eclectic assortment of things.  It has the history of Etruscan artifacts in the area and a collection of art of local churches, coins and even clothing.  I was amused.

That night we had a power outage because the winds were so bad.  Deborah had everything we needed for a power outage: flashlights, candles, a fire, a stove that is gas powered.  That night we ended up making our dinner on the fire.  One down side was that the plumbing didn’t work.  So Deborah went out to the pump and brought up a bucket of water.  Charlie was not such a happy camper.  Which I understand.  He likes his internet and lights.  The next morning the power was back.

At the very end of my stay I transferred houses to Louise’s; my original host.  It was nice to have a change in pace.  Louise and Deborah do things much differently.  Deborah is more old fashion with her picking and Louise is more modern.  She uses aluminum ladders and prefers picking from the ground.  She also prunes as she goes, making picking easy.  If you can’t reach the branch, just cut it down.  It was nice to see a different way to pick.  But I think I like being on a ladder, more than being on the ground.  Louise was so talkative, I learned a lot about her family and how she ended up in Tuscany.  Her girls were nice as well.  We had lunch and dinner together and we decided the last night I was in Tuscany I would help cook a meal for a few people.  I made Thai soup, and Louise made a chicken curry.  Deborah and Charlie came over and it was a party.  What a great ending to Tuscany.  

The next day I was loaded up with the olives (to be pressed later that day) and headed to the train station.  I hope I can do this every year.  I really enjoyed myself.  My goal right now is to try and convince Mom and Dad to go with me next year.