The Harvest was a lot of painful manual labor, the food was just average, and it was sometimes really hard to understand the language. Sounds like something I'd never want to do again, right? Well, no actually. It was probably the most connected I've ever felt to a group in my life. There's a special quality to being on a harvest team that it took me a while to understand, but it something that brings everyone together. Now that I've been away from it for a few weeks, I find myself strangely longing to go back and toil in the mud with an aching back again.

The thing about working the grape harvest is that it's way more than farming to french people. They even have their own word for the grape harvest-- Vendange. La recolte is the real word for harvest, but Vendange refers to only the harvesting of grapes, to be used to make wine. Wine is part of everyday life in France, and working the harvest is something a lot of people do. The closest thing I can think to compare it to is the Israeli military service, although it's not required by law. But it's something a lot of people do, and it brings them together into a team to do something that is traditional and very French. We don't really have anything like this in the US that I can think of, so it's hard to describe, but let's see if I can in the rest of this post.

The realization hit me on about day 5, as I was cutting grapes and tossing them into my bucket. The way this works is you normally cut the vines that are on your left side. Everyone cuts to the left so that way no one doubles up on a row by accident. The person to my right in the next row of vines was leaning pretty far over to cut a bunch of grapes on my right, in his row. He was cutting the grapes over my bucket, so instead of bringing all those grapes all the way back over to his row to drop them in his bucket, he just dropped them in my bucket. My first response was to think a bunch of typically American thoughts, something along the lines of, "hey that's my bucket!" After all, I'd have to shove that bucket ahead every time I needed to move up my row, and eventually I'd need to hoist those grapes up for the porter, while the other person's bucket would be that much lighter.

But as I thought about it, I realized it really didn't matter that much. So I had to lift a little more, big deal. The end result, and the important thing, was that the other person got to work a little bit more efficiently. If he had to cut one bunch and bring it all the way over to his bucket, then go back 3 or 4 more times to do the same, it would take way longer for him to finish his row. It's more efficient to just cut and drop, cut and drop.

This started me thinking about whether or not it really mattered how quickly we finished the harvest. I mean, we all got paid the same amount per day right? It's not like we got paid by how many grapes we cut. But then I realized that people there cared about doing the work well. It wasn't because they'd make more money, or get some kind of special individual recognition for being the best worker. They just wanted to work hard and be part of the team. I realized that this is not really something I've ever personally encountered in the US. Not in this way anyway. I think most of the American way of life is too individualistic to allow something like this to happen (or maybe I'm just jaded, you tell me). In America you're supposed to go out and make something for yourself, rise above the others and stake out your part of the dream. In reality I think a lot of times that turns into figuring out how to keep everyone else down around you. This harvest thing seemed to be different though.  I started to look back on a lot of the things I'd observed throughout the harvest and see them in a different light. Here's a list of things that pointed out to me that there's something special going on with this grape harvest thing:

• No one ever slacked off. Think back on all the jobs you've ever worked in the states, manual labor or not. There's always someone who everyone thinks is a slacker, right? Never happened at the harvest, not once. Sure, there were people that were slower cutters than others (I was one of them on more than one occasion), but those people were working as hard they could. And no one cared if someone was slow because they knew everyone was working their hardest. There was one exception to this, which underlines this point. When we all finished a section of vines, there was always a brief pause in the work. At one of these pauses, as we finished off the last few vines, several people were standing waiting for the rest to finish. Our boss saw this and reprimanded us. It was the first and only time she had to say anything. She told us it was not right for some to stand and rest while others were working, and that we should help finish the rest of the vines and then everyone could rest together. We worked together, we rested together, always. I think that this one slip up was really just a collective mental error, rather than people trying to slack off. Once we realized the mistake, it never happened again. There were plenty of times when people could have slacked off and the boss never would have noticed. But no one even thought twice about it.

• When the porters came to collect the pickers' grapes, they'd thank the picker for dumping the grapes in. Really the pickers were just doing their job, and a job that made the porters pretty darn miserable, as I saw later on! But they thanked them sincerely. Because we were a team, and by throwing that heavy weight on the porter's shoulders, the pickers were helping the team.

• There was one guy on our team who was Polish, and didn't speak a single word of French. But no one excluded him because of this. In fact they made every effort to make him feel at home. On Sunday, our day off, this guy was feeling really ill with some kind of gastrointestinal problem. While all of us lounged at the beach, our boss took him to see some Polish farmers that lived near by so he could be comforted with some food and a language he knew on his day off. She did this not being able to communicate with him in any way. She spoke no English or Polish, and he spoke no French. She just did whatever she could to help him, because she knew he was part of the team.

• On Saturday night, we went to a party in the town of Viellé-Morgon. The party was at a bar in the town center, with a band playing outside. You could buy beers from the bar, or you could bring your own, and there was a park right next to the bar, so there was room enough for as many people as could possibly come. Everyone there was a Vendangeur (grape harvest worker). This party was the most extreme example of exuberance and pure happiness I've ever been a part of. I've been to some pretty wild parties in the states, but I'm telling you there was something different about this vibe. Everyone, down to the last single person, was ecstatically happy. There was no worry about anything. I really don't think I can put it into words, but it was a representation of this special harvest energy I'm trying to communicate.

• Everyone was always happy with everyone else. Doesn't it seem a little unusual to think that with 20 people working and sleeping so close to each other non-stop for 10 days, that no conflicts would develop? That's why reality TV is so successful right? But not at the harvest. Not one single argument, fight, squabble, or disagreement. Amazing right? That's the harvest.

• On the first night, our boss showed us a sheet with the rules on it, which were of course all in French. I didn't think much of it, because I never saw anyone else read it. I figured it was probably a bunch of bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo that wasn't really ever enforced anyway. You know, things like the typical corporate code of conduct:Employees will refrain from using the internet for purposes other than the direct needs of the corporation or, Employees' behavior must always reflect positively on the image of the company when working on company property. But when I later took time to read the rules, I was found I was wrong. They were the most happy-go-lucky rules I've ever seen. There was a rule about how everyone needed to help clean up the table after dinner. And how we needed to help keep the bathrooms and showers tidy. There was even a rule that work in the fields must be done with a smile at all times, because harvest workers should always be happy! The thing is, no one needed to read these rules, they did all these things naturally anyway. Because there's something special about being part of a harvest team.

It might seem like what I've described is some kind of utopian ideal society. Well, yes, it is kind of like that. There a crazy feeling of equality going on. Even the bosses ate the same food, and basically did the same work. They never sat around and watched us pick. If they had nothing else to do they dove right in and cut right next to us. It seems like a more tribal way of being to me, where whatever is needed is provided by the group and no one is ever left hung out to dry by themselves. At least that what they taught me tribal societies were like in social work school.

In the end, I really liked feeling part of a society like this. Would I want to live like that all the time? No way! But it really is an amazing thing to experience, and I find myself thinking I might be trying to do it again next year.

After 5 grueling days of bending over cutting grapes, I was ready for a change. I'd been thinking about the work of the porters, and it didn't seem so bad to me. Sure it was probably pretty heavy, but I've done my share of backpacking, and I knew that my leg strength is built for those kinds of things. I also felt like getting a little bit of real exercise. Cutting is hard on your back muscles, but not much else. And it never makes your heart start beating. I had seen the porters covered in sweat on hot sunny afternoons, and I was starting to get a bit jealous.

So I waited for the right opportunity. One of the porters didn't want to do it anymore, so he switched out to cutting. Unfortuntately, next on deck was a tall skinny guy. Apparently they like to use tall guys because they figure they'll be able to handle it, and it's easier for them to get heat over the bins, making the dumping easier. I continued cutting, grumbling the whole time and wincing every time I had to bend over.

But after lunch, the new porter revealed that he had a giant bruise right above his butt. Apparently the plastic yellow bucket had been banging there the whole morning without him realizing it. He wanted to step down, so I grabbed the opportunity and said I would do it.

The thing I noticed right away after the first couple buckets got flung into my pack, was the inferior contruction of the "pack." Those of you who've backpacked before are aware that a really good back has a belt that tightens around your hips. They're designed to shift the weight of the pack from your shoulders to your hips. The belt can cinch really tight and is nice and puffy so it distributes the weight really well. The effect of this is that your legs do pretty much all the work. Now, these primitive yellow buckets have pretty much zero in common with a nice ergonomic backpack. There is no belt. The straps are made of sharp, rubby nylon. They attempted to cushion the straps a bit by wrapping squishy rubber stuff around them and then taping the rubber to the straps. But after about 5 minutes of work, the tape was already starting to come off. And even with the rubber, the weight of what I'd say was about 40-50 pounds, placed squarely on your shoulders was just way too much. After an afternoon of carrying this "pack," I had some really nice bruises going on both shoulders.

On the second day of wearing the pack, I asked my fellow porter Yann, how his shouders were doing. He'd been doing the porter job for the whole 6 days already, so I figured he must have massive bruising. But he said his shoulders were fine. I decided to study his methods. If you look here, you can see that he's using his hands to pull some of the weight of the pack.

I tried this, but that is a lot of weight to hold up with your hands. In the end I decided to use a combination of this, while also holding the straps a little lower down over my shoulder muscles, which seemed to be able to cushion the blow a little better.

If you look at that picture above, you might notice that Yann doesn't look super chipper right there. That's probably because at this point, the pickers have made there way pretty far down the line, and are far from the bins where the porters have to dump their loads. If you look closely on Yann's right side way behind him, you can just make out two red boxes. That's where he has to go dump the grapes. As the pickers get further away from the tractor, the porters' jobs get harder and harder, because you have to make it all the way back to the bins with the grapes. Because it takes you longer, when you get back to someone, their buckets are fuller, so you have to carry more grapes. Don't think you have a second to take a breather either, because if you delay, someone is going to be calling for you, unable to pick anymore due to their overflowing bucket.

When you get back to the bins, you have to climb a pretty steep ladder. This means you have to use your hands to hold the railings. You can see what the ladder looks like in this picture. With no hands bracing the straps, there's pretty much no choice but to let all 50 pounds of grapes cut their way right into your shoulders. When you get to the top of the ladder, there's a particular technique for getting the grapes out of your pack. Assuming you're right footed, you leave your right foot on the last step of the ladder, and put your right hand down on a bar that runs across the bin. Then you bend over as far as you can, and lift your left leg as high into the air as you can. Having just one hand on the bar makes your body twist to the side while your left leg rises, and this action sends the grapes shooting out of your basket into the bin over your right shoulder. Sounds acrobatic right? It does look a bit like ballet actually. Unfortunately I was unable to get any photos of this technique. The first few times it's a little scary, but you get used to it eventually.

The last day of work, Yann and I had a little competition. We would each take 10 pickers, and start at the same time. The objective was simple-first porter to empty all 10 people's grapes into the bin first would win. We counted down to three and then we were off. What complicated the race was that the pickers didn't know one was happening. I smartly had asked Yann how to say race before we started though, so as I sprinted down the line, I yelled, "on fait la course!" at the top of my lungs, to let the pickers know to get their buckets ready to be emptied. The race was incredibly even. Yann is a lot taller than me with long legs, but fans of track and field know that usually shorter runners are faster (except Usain Bolt). Yann made great big strides but I think my speed down the vines was faster. I got held up on the very last bucket by a charming young french boy that always liked to affectionately mess with me by tossing the grapes as hard as he could into my basket. But it was pretty much neck and neck coming down to the finish. The trouble was that there was only one ladder, and Yann just barely beat me to it. I struggled in vain to climb the ladder at the same time as him. There was no getting up there though. Yann descended the ladder victorious. If only the trickster young Frenchie hadn't held me up, I probably would have won! But then, what's this, a last minute reprieve? It turned out in his haste Yann had forgotten one entire person's bucket full of grapes! Claim one victory for the Americans there.

At this point, I'm sure that's the question you all have running through your mind. Enough about all the food and French way of life, what's the work actually like!?

The simple answer is it kinda sucks. Now that I have a bit of distance from it though, I find myself feeling like I wish I could go back. Or maybe I'll try to do it again next year. I'll get to why I think that is a little later.

But first, to start, take a look at this:

That's kind of what you see when you first stand next to a vine and look down. I tried my best to get some good pictures of this stuff, but there really weren't too many times when I had a free second, when my hands weren't also totally covered in grape pulp and sticky juice. But basically that's what it looks like, with a lot of times the grapes being even harder to see underneath the leaves. The covering of leaves over the top of the grapes is called the canopy, and it helps protect the grapes from getting too dried out by the sun. It's also a giant pain, because it means you really have to get in there and get dirty to find the grapes. Our lesson on how to do this the first day took about 20 seconds. Our boss brought us over to a vine, gave us each a sécateur (pruning shear), like this:

And showed us how to clip the grapes. You just have to find where the bunch is attached to the vine, and clip it with your right hand, pulling the whole bunch off with your left, and then you toss the bunch into your bucket.

Now for those of you who haven't been totally geeking out on wine education, you might need a little review on vine training techniques, specifically the gobelet or bush training technique used in Beaujolais.

Now that you've done your review and/or dozed off from sheer boredom, I can explain what vines actually look like in Beaujolais. The root comes out of the ground, and about 4 or 5 gnarly looking wood things come out of the root. You can see what that gnarly looking stuff looks like in the bottom right corner of this picture:

Every year, after the harvest is complete, they will remove everything green and leave that gnarly looking part. Then the next year, out of the wood sprouts little green shoots, which wind there way up, down, and sideways. There are little wires running around each vine, and when the shoots get long enough, someone will come along and train the shoots to the wires, to keep things relatively tidy. If you didn't make them start all over every year, the shoots would just take over. You wouldn't be able to work the vines, and they'd produce a ton of grapes that would all be very diluted and wouldn't make very good wine.

Out of these shoots come grapes and leaves. For the most part the leaves are on the top, and the grapes are underneath the leaves, but there are some leaves mixed in between bunches of grapes, to ensure the canopy coverage gives adequate protection from the sun. Generally the grape bunches hang down from the shoots, like this:

But sometimes the bunch ends up growing sort of up from the shoot, and the grapes fall around the shoot, so you have to hunt out where it's connected. Then sometimes leaves get mixed into the bunch, and you need to get those out of there, you don't want any leaves in your bucket, because leaves don't make good wine. So while it might seem a simple job to cut bunches of grapes and throw them into a bucket (and it is really, I mean it only took her 20 seconds to explain it to us) it can get pretty complicated. A lot of the time when you first approached a vine, you'd be staring at a thicket of leaves and shoots, with no grapes in site, so you had to tear through them to find the yummy grapes underneath. You also have to keep an eye out for rot, and cut out those grapes that were rotten. I personally found it really satisfying to find a bunch like this one, without any rot. Such a perfectly beautiful little entity. Every once in a while I'd have to just stick a bunch in my face and suck down 20 or so grapes at once. And oh my god, you have never tasted grapes as good as that in your life! Just bursting with flavor and juice. Very, very sweet, also. And the skins were much thicker than what you'd find in the grocery store. Sort of more like a concord grape skin. What I'd usually do was suck out all the juice, and then spit out the skins and seeds. It made for a great energy pick me up while you were working.

The highest part of the vine stands at about 3.5 feet, so that means you are leaning over 60% of the time. Standing and leaning over the vine was the best way to get to all the grapes near the top, but often you'd run across a bunch of grapes very close to the ground. You could get to them from a standing position, but try tying your shoes for about 15 minutes straight and you'll realize that this puts an enormous amount of strain on your lower back. Eventually everyone has to take a knee, or like me, Mr. Smarty Pants, sit right down on the ground. My first day I was totally convinced I had figured the whole thing out, and was going to emerge from the vines victorious, back unscathed. I thought the rest of the Frenchies just didn't want to get dirty on the ground, but I wasn't afraid to get a little muddy (actually I got really muddy). But then the second day when I started on the ground and tried to raise my arms up, I realized I'd almost pulled all the muscles in my upper back. Try sitting on the ground cross-legged, extend your arms in front of you, and lean forward as far as you can. Now waive your arms all over the place and repeat for about 8 hours and you'll see what I mean. In the end I decided a combo approach was best, some bending over, some on one knee, and occasionally sitting for the very low grapes.

When we first started, I thought, ok, this is no big deal, I can do this. We weren't, as I had fantasized, in the mountains, lugging anything heavy, the fields were nice and flat. The weather was pleasant enough, and the job was pretty simple. But as the hours built on, this became a mind and body numbing experience. Actually my body wasn't really numb, it was really just in agony. Particularly on the second day, having to deal with soreness in newfound muscles that were being forced to do what they had just done to get sore in the first place. Don't be fooled people, there is no in-shape for this kind of activity. You can not prepare for it. The first 3 days are complete physical hell, until your body adjusts.

The system of grape harvesting is very simple, and probably hundreds of years old, but it is pretty brilliant in my opinion. There are 20 grape pickers and 2 people who are porters (there will be more on their job later in a second post), that get to wear giant plastic yellow bins in a primitive sort of backpack setup, who each take 10 of the pickers. The pickers all start at the same point, and make there way down the line of vines. Some pickers are faster than others, either because they've done it before, they're shorter and therefore closer to the ground (ladies definitely tended to have an advantage here) or maybe their row of vines was a little sparser than someone elses. If one person fell really far behind, the boss would jump into their row a ways ahead of them and pick for a while. Then when that picker caught up to where the boss started, he or she could jump ahead and be back in line with everyone else. As the pickers fill up their buckets, the porters would come along, and the picker could empty their bucket into the yellow bin. The porters bring their loads back to a larger bin attached to a tractor at the edge of the vines, and then return to the vines for more grapes.

The brilliance of the system to me seems to involve some math that works out just right. Each porter's yellow bin could hold about 3 people's full buckets of grapes. So the porters would have to make 3 or so trips out to empty everyone's buckets. If there were 12 people per porter, it wouldn't work, after you emptied your bucket you'd have to wait too long to empty it again, and you'd be stuck for a while with an overflowing bucket, unable to pick any more. Also, the vines were divided up into rectangles about 130 yards in length. When the pickers got to the middle of the vines, the tractor would move to the other side of the vines, so the porters didn't have to walk too far to empty their loads. The system pretty much worked perfectly so your bucket was almost never too full, and you could always keep picking. It seems to be that someone was thinking when they chose to divided the vines up in the size they did. Not only that, but the room we all slept in was just big enough for 22 beds, and the dining room had just enough room to sit 22 people. Pretty smart, right?