Thursday 16th, up at 5am, left the house by 5.30am and drove to Nice to catch the ferry to Corsica. A six hour trip on a boat doesn't usually fill me with excitement, but I have to say, it was entertainment all the way! The ferry left at 8am, so first stop for everyone was the self-service cafe, where they queued for ages to get their croissants and coffee, giving us ample time for people watching....and dog watching. The French take their dogs everywhere, and the ferry was no exception. Sitting opposite us was a lady with her little terrier, who was taking her first voyage at the age of 12 (the dog, not the lady). Obviously the excitement was just too much...
It's all pretty relaxed on these ferries: we watched a beagle dog calmly drop a turd on the carpet next to us....the lady owner didn't even break conversation with her husband as she calmly bent down and scooped it up in a bag.....none of the other passengers seemed to think this was in any way unusual apart from us! Another incident...I was washing my hands in the ladies toilets, when a uniformed man burst in with a cheery "bonjour", proceeded to re-stock the toilet paper, before breezing out with a "bonne journee"!!
Arrived in Calvi at 2pm and drove south through the mountains, passing through beautiful little villages and stunning scenery. It was lovely to see mountains again, as we haven't seen anything like this since leaving New Zealand.
One thing quickly became apparent: if we thought the cemeteries were good in France, the dead are given rock-star treatment in Corsica, with incredible vaults which would house a small family (which I suppose they do, in a strange sort of way!) and always with the best views out over the valleys and hills.
Our first bed and breakfast was way up in the mountains, in a tiny village called Carbuccia, and run by a Corsican couple. The B and B is the two houses to the right of the white car.
Frederique had been born and brought up in the village, left for his education, and came back and bought an old house just below his parent's house, doing it up over several years. He spoke very good English, and as we were the only guests for the two nights, he sat with us for breakfast and answered all our questions about Corsica and life on the island.
Breakfast: the Corsican attitude to breakfast, as with the Italians, is - if it's a carbohydrate, bring it on! In fact, the more gluten they can pack into their day the better! So we were presented with croissants, fresh white bread, sliced wholemeal bread, sliced sweet brioche, fruit cake, and three types of sweet biscuits! There was a cursory nod to health with a small pottle of natural yoghurt, looking a little out of place amongst the carbo-loading festival.
Suitably stuffed, Fred sent us off on a walk up to a waterfall. We had to drive for about an hour on the twisty mountain roads which were in very good condition everywhere we went. So good were the roads, that the pigs had decided to do a bit of sunbathing on the warm tarmac...
These are domestic pigs, bred for the plate, and they were so unfazed by the car we virtually had to get out and push them off the road! They had "escaped" from their pens, which we saw along the road everywhere in northern Corsica - it wouldn't be difficult to hatch an escape plan, as the fences and barriers didn't like they would put up much resistance.
The walk was beautiful, up through farm land, then following an irrigation canal leading to a waterfall with several pools. There was no-one else around, which was often the way when we were in the mountains - the coastal towns were a different story.
The following day we had to be up and out of the village by 8.30am - the reason? The international rally of Corsica had a stage passing through the village, which meant that the road was closed from 8.30am until 7.00pm, cutting off the village. The night before Fred had shown us where to park the car about 4k down the road, just past the intersection to the village. By parking our car there before 8.30, we could then walk back up and watch the first few cars come through. That was the plan. We wound our way through the village, where roll upon roll of red tape had been placed overnight, marking off driveways and gateways. Many villagers had parked their cars carefully behind the tape, safe in the knowledge that the red safety tape would protect them from a rally car taking the corner at 130kph plus...
We hung around for a while, watching the TV crew arrive, plus all the locals settling in for the day from the best vantage points. After a while I talked to one of the traffic police, who checked his schedule and told me the first car would be through at about 11am. It was about 9am so we decided the Corsica rally would have to run without us, and we set off for Bonifacio.
We left the mountains and followed the coast south, stopping at several beaches on the way. At one beach, a couple were searching in the sand just where the waves came in, so they were up to their ankles in water. They kept picking up something very small. In the end I gave in to Lew saying "go and ask them, go on, please, go on, it'll be good for your French" and they showed us tiny white flat shells which are made into jewellery. Just as we were talking, a young woman came along, took off her dress and started searching for shells too, topliss, and virtually bottomless! Unfortunately for every male on the beach, it wasn't a particularly pretty sight! However, as usual, no-one took the slightest bit of notice. Sorry, no photo to accompany that story!!
Unfortunately the weather wasn't that warm while we were there - the whole of northern Europe is having a slow start to summer, and Corsica was no exception. So, we didn't venture into the sea, even though the water looked lovely - very blue and clear.
Anyway, we timed our arrival at Bonifacio to avoid the tour buses, and rolled into town at about 5pm. But that's in the next post.............
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