The Story of Andalusian Oranges in Spain

When I first caught a glimpse of the orange trees that lined the streets of Granada, a good old sinhala rhyme resonated inside my head. It’s sung by a little boy who sees a sweet orange tree that is abundant with fruits.

Me gasé boho

Pani doodang thibé

Pahila, Idhila, Bimata Namila

Barawela Athu…

I was seated by the window, gazing in dismay at the ripe oranges fallen on the piazzas, waiting to be swept away by the street cleaners. The story that I am going to tell is sadly not about any pani dodang (sweet oranges).

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