The End of the Olive Harvest
2010 March 11
The sun sets after a day picking olives...
It all started with the police check last night.
Torchlight zig-zagged across the car and we huddled in the backseat.
“You are English,” said the policeman. “And yet you say you want to go to Pegalajar.”
“That’s right,” said MG, our driver. “My friends here – they want to pick olives.”
“They want,” he lingered over the words, “to pick olives?”
From Liquid Gold & Mud Slides – read the full article at Inside the Travel Lab.
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