I've returned to Paris just long enough to do some laundry, get a haircut, find another apartment, and repack before leaving again.
I'll be leaving tomorrow morning to travel to Switzerland. That should be quite a contrast after Corsica!
Why this blog?
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Corsica
I enjoyed the lovely island of Corsica which has retained much of its original culture and language. When I mention "original culture" my Mom mentioned that she associates Corsica with pirates. Is that true? she asked. Well, here is the unofficial Corsican flag which you see everywhere:
Corsican history also includes words such as "vendetta" and "maquis" and there is still a perceptible current of antiestablishmentarianism. (Thank you Sonia)
Corsica has its own language which looks a little like Italian, but is NOT Italian. The language has seen a resurgence in the last several years and is now taught in schools. It was quite common to hear the language spoken in the streets. Incidentally, there are different dialects spoken in the north of the country (Bastia) vs the south (Ajaccio). The differences in culture and language from north to south and between mainland France and the island of Corsica are not dissimilar to the differences between northern and southern Italy and the Italian islands of Sardinia and Sicily.
Tourism represents a major source of revenue for Corsica and has spared the island from the impact of the recent recession. You see very little of the tourist development that defines resorts like Cancun. In fact, the locals go to great lengths to inhibit residents from "selling out" to developers. Bombings and intimidation are not unknown! That said, I always felt very safe there. There are many advantages when traveling as a gray-haired female. I am usually not seen as a threat or as a target of unwelcome attention.
Finally, I cannot leave Corsica without talking a little bit more about the food.
Corsica is known for its cured meats and cheeses. Here are a couple of photos of just two of the courses featured in a 5 course fixed price meal that I had one evening. This was the first course including local cured meats and homemade terrine de sanglier:
The cheese plate with fig jam was the fourth course. It followed the charcuterie, the tarte au brocciu, and the main course - a delicious but heavy veal stew with polenta. The cheese was followed by dessert - ice cream with chestnut sauce. Everything was good, but too copious and too heavy before bed!
Corsican history also includes words such as "vendetta" and "maquis" and there is still a perceptible current of antiestablishmentarianism. (Thank you Sonia)
Corsica has its own language which looks a little like Italian, but is NOT Italian. The language has seen a resurgence in the last several years and is now taught in schools. It was quite common to hear the language spoken in the streets. Incidentally, there are different dialects spoken in the north of the country (Bastia) vs the south (Ajaccio). The differences in culture and language from north to south and between mainland France and the island of Corsica are not dissimilar to the differences between northern and southern Italy and the Italian islands of Sardinia and Sicily.
Tourism represents a major source of revenue for Corsica and has spared the island from the impact of the recent recession. You see very little of the tourist development that defines resorts like Cancun. In fact, the locals go to great lengths to inhibit residents from "selling out" to developers. Bombings and intimidation are not unknown! That said, I always felt very safe there. There are many advantages when traveling as a gray-haired female. I am usually not seen as a threat or as a target of unwelcome attention.
Finally, I cannot leave Corsica without talking a little bit more about the food.
Corsica is known for its cured meats and cheeses. Here are a couple of photos of just two of the courses featured in a 5 course fixed price meal that I had one evening. This was the first course including local cured meats and homemade terrine de sanglier:
The cheese plate with fig jam was the fourth course. It followed the charcuterie, the tarte au brocciu, and the main course - a delicious but heavy veal stew with polenta. The cheese was followed by dessert - ice cream with chestnut sauce. Everything was good, but too copious and too heavy before bed!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Scandola Nature Reserve
I woke up early to take a boat excursion to the Scandola Nature Reserve up the west coast from Ajaccio. When we first set out, I was second guessing myself again. Why didn't I go yesterday when the weather was better? This morning, the sky is gray. At least I remembered a coat, a hat, and good sunscreen.
It's obvious that I don't normally live near the sea; otherwise, I might understand the variable weather conditions. It wasn't too long before the sun peeked through and the beauties of the Scandola Nature Reserve started to reveal themselves. Scandola is part of the Corsican National Park system and a World Heritage Site. It was created through the process of several volcanic eruptions over the last 50 to 150 million years. Here are just a few of the 120 photos I took today:
The waters are protected too. There is no fishing or diving allowed, and this water is much deeper than it looks.
We stopped for lunch in a tiny village called Girolata.
Here's a reminder that small babies needn't hamper your travel plans. This little 4 month old and her mother were having a wonderful time.
The only way to get to Girolata is by boat - unless you want to hike 7 km to the nearest road. This trail is called "La Route du Facteur" because that's how the mail carrier (facteur) brings mail every day.
The Scandola Nature Reserve also serves as protection for all plant and animal life native to the area. They have had success in encouraging the osprey population to recover. Our guides were great in pointing out several nests with fledgling chicks. Here is one of the nests with mom (or dad?) flying overhead just above the nest on the left.
A day like today is a great reminder of the beauty all around us.
It's obvious that I don't normally live near the sea; otherwise, I might understand the variable weather conditions. It wasn't too long before the sun peeked through and the beauties of the Scandola Nature Reserve started to reveal themselves. Scandola is part of the Corsican National Park system and a World Heritage Site. It was created through the process of several volcanic eruptions over the last 50 to 150 million years. Here are just a few of the 120 photos I took today:
The waters are protected too. There is no fishing or diving allowed, and this water is much deeper than it looks.
We stopped for lunch in a tiny village called Girolata.
Here's a reminder that small babies needn't hamper your travel plans. This little 4 month old and her mother were having a wonderful time.
The only way to get to Girolata is by boat - unless you want to hike 7 km to the nearest road. This trail is called "La Route du Facteur" because that's how the mail carrier (facteur) brings mail every day.
The Scandola Nature Reserve also serves as protection for all plant and animal life native to the area. They have had success in encouraging the osprey population to recover. Our guides were great in pointing out several nests with fledgling chicks. Here is one of the nests with mom (or dad?) flying overhead just above the nest on the left.
A day like today is a great reminder of the beauty all around us.
Where to next?
3:18 AM. Groan. I wake up with a weight in the pit of my stomach. Why did I eat all that meat? Why did I order dessert when I didn't need it?
The list expands: Why didn't I wear sunscreen? Why didn't I bring those hiking pants? Why did I leave my umbrella in the room?
More doubts: Can I really afford to stay here? Am I spending too much money that I should be saving for retirement (whatever that means)?
Second guessing; regrets both big and small. Shoulda, coulda, woulda, but didn't. Or did. In spite of everything.
And even if I could do anything I wanted, go anywhere I wanted, have anything I wanted (within reason) what would that be? What I am really looking for? When will I know if I've found it? Where will I go next to look for it? And what is IT, really?
But those are 3 AM thoughts. I do sometimes wonder what I'm doing here so far from friends and family. . . And then I go back to sleep.
When I wake up a few hours later, the sun is shining and it's too nice to stay inside. What will I do today? What will I write about? What will I share? What will I confront and what will I ignore? But the sunny day is calling and I am reminded that life is short.
And old trees can sprout new growth.
So I wait. As of this moment, I don't know where I'll go next or what I'll do next. But I am enjoying the atmosphere here in Corsica. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I do know I'm not ready to return to the U.S. and especially not Boulder - as much as I love Colorado summers. I am learning to be patient with myself. To let go of expectations. And trying to understand and forgive those "shoulda but didn'ts".
The list expands: Why didn't I wear sunscreen? Why didn't I bring those hiking pants? Why did I leave my umbrella in the room?
More doubts: Can I really afford to stay here? Am I spending too much money that I should be saving for retirement (whatever that means)?
Second guessing; regrets both big and small. Shoulda, coulda, woulda, but didn't. Or did. In spite of everything.
And even if I could do anything I wanted, go anywhere I wanted, have anything I wanted (within reason) what would that be? What I am really looking for? When will I know if I've found it? Where will I go next to look for it? And what is IT, really?
But those are 3 AM thoughts. I do sometimes wonder what I'm doing here so far from friends and family. . . And then I go back to sleep.
When I wake up a few hours later, the sun is shining and it's too nice to stay inside. What will I do today? What will I write about? What will I share? What will I confront and what will I ignore? But the sunny day is calling and I am reminded that life is short.
And old trees can sprout new growth.
So I wait. As of this moment, I don't know where I'll go next or what I'll do next. But I am enjoying the atmosphere here in Corsica. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I do know I'm not ready to return to the U.S. and especially not Boulder - as much as I love Colorado summers. I am learning to be patient with myself. To let go of expectations. And trying to understand and forgive those "shoulda but didn'ts".
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Ajaccio
After the trip through the mountains, I'm back on the coast. Ajaccio is fairly small, about 60,000 people. Big enough to have plenty of restaurants and small enough to walk all over town. Oh, and it's got beaches! I'm not big on swimming in the open water, but I actually dipped my toes in the other day. It's not super fine sand, but the water is beautiful.
These are the Iles Sanguinaires, about 18 km west of Ajaccio. There is a lighthouse and a 16th century Genoese tower. I went there by boat yesterday, but it was gray and stormy:
I took a bus today there today after the sun came out.
These are the Iles Sanguinaires, about 18 km west of Ajaccio. There is a lighthouse and a 16th century Genoese tower. I went there by boat yesterday, but it was gray and stormy:
I took a bus today there today after the sun came out.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Bastia to Ajaccio
"Un train déraille : 2 morts et 22 blessés" (A train derails: 2 dead and 22 injured)
This was the headline that greeted me when I went to the Corsica Train website to plan my travel from Bastia to Ajaccio. It wasn't until the second paragraph that the article said it was referring to an evacuation exercise held on the 11th of May, 2010. As I read further down the website, I noticed that buses were replacing trains because certain trains were experiencing technical incidents. Uh oh. Will this be a safe way to travel? But I didn't have much choice. I had already paid for a hotel in Ajaccio and there is no other way to get there.
I show up at the train station early on Sunday morning. There is only one train today from Bastia to Ajaccio so I'd better not miss it. Looking at the map I see that we'll be crossing over a high mountain pass before descending into Ajaccio on the other side of this mountainous island.
Hiking boots, backpacks, sleeping bags: the vast majority of train passengers are outfitted for a multiday trek. We get to Ponte Leccia and there is a brief panic as the multinational passengers try to figure out if they have to stay on this train or get off and change. Finally a conductor boards and confirms that those of us going to Ajaccio can stay here, while the Germans sitting next to me scramble to get off with their heavy backpacks.
Soon we start to climb and the ancient diesel engine grumbles in protest, erupting often with angry bursts of steam. The wheels shriek around each turn. Are these tracks as rusty as they sound? I'm reminded of how a steam engine might have sounded a 100 years ago, the sound even more deafening as we pass through numerous tunnels.
Most of the backpackers get off at Corte, common starting point for those accessing a hut system in the high mountain passes. The highest peak, reaching 8,800 feet has glaciers below the toothed ridges of its summit. And the train continues to climb. The scenery is more and more stunning, as we cross over narrow bridges, the ground dropping into a breathtaking chasm that reminds me of the royal gorge. The chestnut trees give way to pines and the air is noticeably cooler when we reach Vizzanova at 3800 feet.
The scenery is beautiful, but the train makes me nervous. I wish I had someone to comfort. I am usually the calm one in a crisis, my ability to comfort others masking or assuaging my own fear. But I suddenly realize that I feel alone. I wish I had someone to comfort me - to hold my hand through the scary twists and turns.
As we descend towards sea level, leaving the wild mountaintops behind; the train no longer protests. And like a horse remembering the barn that awaits, it picks up speed and quiets down. No more shrieking protest around steep curves. There are new reminders of civilization and I laugh at myself and my irrational fears. Of course the train is the safest way to travel. What was I thinking?
p.s. you can check out the Corsica train site for yourself at: www.train-corse.com
This was the headline that greeted me when I went to the Corsica Train website to plan my travel from Bastia to Ajaccio. It wasn't until the second paragraph that the article said it was referring to an evacuation exercise held on the 11th of May, 2010. As I read further down the website, I noticed that buses were replacing trains because certain trains were experiencing technical incidents. Uh oh. Will this be a safe way to travel? But I didn't have much choice. I had already paid for a hotel in Ajaccio and there is no other way to get there.
I show up at the train station early on Sunday morning. There is only one train today from Bastia to Ajaccio so I'd better not miss it. Looking at the map I see that we'll be crossing over a high mountain pass before descending into Ajaccio on the other side of this mountainous island.
Hiking boots, backpacks, sleeping bags: the vast majority of train passengers are outfitted for a multiday trek. We get to Ponte Leccia and there is a brief panic as the multinational passengers try to figure out if they have to stay on this train or get off and change. Finally a conductor boards and confirms that those of us going to Ajaccio can stay here, while the Germans sitting next to me scramble to get off with their heavy backpacks.
Soon we start to climb and the ancient diesel engine grumbles in protest, erupting often with angry bursts of steam. The wheels shriek around each turn. Are these tracks as rusty as they sound? I'm reminded of how a steam engine might have sounded a 100 years ago, the sound even more deafening as we pass through numerous tunnels.
Most of the backpackers get off at Corte, common starting point for those accessing a hut system in the high mountain passes. The highest peak, reaching 8,800 feet has glaciers below the toothed ridges of its summit. And the train continues to climb. The scenery is more and more stunning, as we cross over narrow bridges, the ground dropping into a breathtaking chasm that reminds me of the royal gorge. The chestnut trees give way to pines and the air is noticeably cooler when we reach Vizzanova at 3800 feet.
The scenery is beautiful, but the train makes me nervous. I wish I had someone to comfort. I am usually the calm one in a crisis, my ability to comfort others masking or assuaging my own fear. But I suddenly realize that I feel alone. I wish I had someone to comfort me - to hold my hand through the scary twists and turns.
As we descend towards sea level, leaving the wild mountaintops behind; the train no longer protests. And like a horse remembering the barn that awaits, it picks up speed and quiets down. No more shrieking protest around steep curves. There are new reminders of civilization and I laugh at myself and my irrational fears. Of course the train is the safest way to travel. What was I thinking?
p.s. you can check out the Corsica train site for yourself at: www.train-corse.com
Dinner in Bastia
After all that excitement trying to catch the ferry, I was finally able to relax, enjoy the ride and get to Bastia in time for dinner.
The old port of Bastia reminded me that I hadn't eaten fish for awhile.
I asked the hotel desk clerk for a restaurant recommendation and was delighted with her suggestion. She immediately took out a map and pointed out the "Table du Marché" located away from the waterfront and right on the square where the daily outdoor market is located each morning. The 3 course menu was an excellent value so I sat on the terrace and started with moules marinières:
Next I had the fish of the day (daurade) prepared Bastia-style with lemon, sweet peppers, tomato, zucchini and plenty of olives. It was accompanied by rice and was delicious!
Dessert was a simple cup of sorbet, but very attractively presented:
After the lovely dinner, the hotel was cool and quiet. A soothing way to end the day.
The old port of Bastia reminded me that I hadn't eaten fish for awhile.
I asked the hotel desk clerk for a restaurant recommendation and was delighted with her suggestion. She immediately took out a map and pointed out the "Table du Marché" located away from the waterfront and right on the square where the daily outdoor market is located each morning. The 3 course menu was an excellent value so I sat on the terrace and started with moules marinières:
Next I had the fish of the day (daurade) prepared Bastia-style with lemon, sweet peppers, tomato, zucchini and plenty of olives. It was accompanied by rice and was delicious!
Dessert was a simple cup of sorbet, but very attractively presented:
After the lovely dinner, the hotel was cool and quiet. A soothing way to end the day.
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