In memory of those who died during WWI & WWII.
Medusa Jellyfish- small but potent.
Michelle (whose house we stayed at in Bastia) and Agathe
Dad and Bella walking back from St. Florent swimming beach.
The goats that woke us up from our beach nap.
Beautiful Bastia old town- our home was on the right, behind the tall orange building.
Climbing the mountain behind Bastia the first evening we arrived.
Exploring the icehouse on the mountain.
Snacktime in the icehouse.
The bull that charged us. Ole!
Ferry going out to Bastia.
Unknown spider in St. Florent.
Bastia museum artwork.
Looking down to the icehouse.
… a lesson in animal safety...
An odd turn of events brought about our wonderful Corsica (called Corse by the French) trip. A few months back we heard that there was a French ship, the Le Manguier, in town with a little 7 year old girl aboard. We had a wonderful meal with them at the VanDaele house, complete with Phillipe and Agathe singing a duet and traipsing through the garden speaking in hand gestures. When we found out that the family had spent their winter in Sand Point and that Agathe had done a few months of 1st grade there we were very impressed. Shortly thereafter, Agathe came over and stayed the night, the girls getting along famously. I’m not sure our girls would have spent the night at another family’s house only speaking a few words of their language! But this is Agathe- fearless! As we planned our trip we spoke with the family about things to do, and about a month before leaving we realized that our time in France would overlap, and that one of the weeks we had free and unplanned coincided with them being back in Corsica where they are looking to buy a house. Sadly, we missed Phillipe in Corsica, but did get to spend some time with Cecile and Agathe in the home of their lovely friend Michelle, who works for the forest service in Corsica.
After picking up our car on Friday afternoon in Nice (woo-hoo for the European car leasing deals- brand new Renault to drive for a month with no deductible insurance for about $500 less than it would be to rent a car!) we spent our last evening eating frog legs (yum!) on the beach and then when it started to rain we ducked into an ice cream shop for some cactus ice cream (yuck!). After a few hours of packing and re-arranging we were able to get ourselves to bed and somehow, out of the flat by 7 am (the guys at the meat shop gave us a thumbs up and a big smile at the Haakanson parade as we left) to catch our ferry. Leaving at 8, we started our journey and it took 5 hours to travel to Bastia on the Northeast side of Corsica by high-speed ferry. The eerily empty ferry was a reminder to us that we are past tourist season… driving off the ferry in Bastia we were met by Cecile, there to collect us and take us to her friend Michelle’s house, where we were to eat a wonderful lunch of local sheep cheeses (slightly sweet since the sheep often grave on hazelnuts which fall from the trees), tomatoes, and Charcuterie (the local specialty of smoked beef). After the lovely lunch the three ladies took us to their ‘pillar mountain’, according to Cecile, where we walked for about half an hour to an amazing lookout where a crumbling stone building, now taken over by flowering trees and vines, was located. Once, the Corsicans used this building to preserve ice for the warmer months, layering ice with branches and grass to keep it from melting, then making the long journey down the mountain with mules. There was only one scary moment as we stumbled into a clearing and were charged by a large angry bull.
The next afternoon all of us packed up our stuff and headed to the neighboring village of St. Florent to go swimming. A lovely hour-long walk through luxurious Mediterranean plants along the coast brought us to a quiet pebbly beach facing the bright blue bay. After a refreshing swim cut short by sweet little Medusa jellyfish and their crazy painful stings (as experienced by Eilidh) we lay on the beach for a while enjoying the view up the hill to the goats grazing peacefully. When the girls were almost asleep, we were woken by a couple of anxious cries by some passerbys who had noticed that the goats were eying us grumpily and had come close to check us out. After jumping up and jumping around for a while, they left us in peace and we headed home to a wonderful home-cooked meal.
Some background on Corsica: First of all, we were amazed to learn that Corsica is about the size of Kodiak, yet has about 250,000 inhabitants….. and two-and-a-half million tourists visit yearly! Asking about the occasional spray-painted, “Corse Liberte” signs on fences and abandoned houses, we learned the humbling story of the Corse people:
Corsica has only been officially ‘French’ for about 250 years. Before this, they have been unfortunately affected by their position in the midst of the Mediterranean trade routes. Greeks, Carthaginians and Romans laid claim to the island early on, driving the Corsicans to the interior of the island. Finally the Vandals (whatever happened to them?) kicked out the Romans and for 1300 years the island was attacked , settled and sold multiple times, each time the locals fighting for their land. It was in 1768 that France bought Corsica from Genoa and their journey as a French territory began…. Sadly, the Corsican people have found themselves first drafted into French wars (along with African territories of France), and last consulted about their island’s future. The people of Corse speak a unique language that to me sounds more Italian than French (although apparently one does not say this to the Corse) and road signs appear in both languages. They are the most highly-subsidized area in France, yet one of the most heavily visited by fellow French. In the 1970s, the Corsican Liberation group FNLC lead a heavy campaign against French territorialism, at one point in 2006 there were at least 10 holiday homes per week that were being blown up. There are apparently mixed feelings now about this movement, as many question how financially viable Corsica could be without France’s support. Bullet holes in the public buildings serve as a reminder of this debate.
An odd twist: Corsica is the birth place of Napoleon, and in Bastia’s main square you see his statue complete with Roman toga (Caeser-inspired), topped with whatever sea birds happen to be around. Napoleon also was exiled to Elba just an island over until he escaped and was finally defeated at Waterloo in 1815. In the winter the main square is turned into an ice rink and locals skate around the statue of Napoleon. Surreal.
No comments:
Post a Comment