Airline passenger news and views

When it comes to knowing a place, you can either be a tourist or you can try to be one of the locals for a while.

Being "one of them" can, of course, be extreme. But without entering into hardcore territories I would propose going on a grape-picking holiday to France.

That certainly means hard work - and wages of about £8 per hour that barely cover residence and travelling expenses. However, being an active part in the making of some of the best wines on Earth in the late summer Continental weather, when experimenting proper French countryside life, is worth the pain of ordinary labour.

The way of doing it will be the following: firstly contact ANPE (French equivalent to our job centres) and get hold of a job offer. Try to sort out as well where you are going to stay beforehand and transport logistics.

Then, there is the timing factor: the grape harvest traditionally takes place in September, but in some regions starts in mid August and in others can even be finished in November.

So go there early enough, when there is still plenty of work. The places to go can be Sauternes in Bordeaux, Alsace or the Layon valley. Even better Beaujolais or Champagne - two regions where the use of machinery had been formally prohibited, therefore, waiting for your hands to get dirty.

Having said that, I can tell my experience -which has nothing to do with the ideal plan.

I got to Perpignan last September - a Ryanair flight from Luton that bizarrely went to Dublin first and cost me nearly half a day and more than £100. From there in coach to Rivesaltes, a picturesque little town where the fette du vandage was taking place.

Once there, I ended up working for three weeks for nearly nine hours at day. Work is not difficult, but you need to be fast and resistant. You can either be cutting bunches or picking them in a basket attached to your back, working in teams of about eight people that need to go at the same steady pace - always taking care of not cutting yourself with the sharp shears nor ruining the grapes.

Days were long, but nights as well. And the Saturday reduced shift was always a reason for celebration for the heterogeneous bunch that conformed my workmates. People who I got to know well enough to enjoy my stay in the south of France.

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