Entre Les Murs

Corsica

I didn't expect that a Mediterranean island could have an off-season, but the French island of Corsica must, because Janet found us seat-sale fares and even then the plane was not much more than half full.  We took Mum for a long weekend, Saturday to Tuesday.  We rented a car in Ajaccio and more or less circumnavigated the island.


Our first night was spent in Bonafacio.  Many of the cities of Corsica started as fortified towns, owing to centuries of European powers' tugs-of-war.  Bonafacio's old town is surrounded by walls and perched atop an aerie, which overlooks a natural harbour below on the inland side and the sea approaches on the other.  As a sailor, Mum thought the place heavenly.  Without what I gather is usually a horde of tourists, it was also a fairly quiet town but then there was much less open to see and do than would normally be the case.  We did manage to find a wonderful meal in a grotto of a restaurant (the only one open, we were informed).


The next day we drove North to a tiny town (called San Gavino d'Ampugnani) where friends have a house that they were kind enough to lend us.  The keys were provided by the mayor of the town (which is maybe 15-20 houses).  It was a 300-year-old stone house of three stories, well appointed for the most part, but in the midst of renovation and decoration so there was little actual furniture.  We lit a fire in the fireplace and made ourselves a nice meal; and in the morning found smoke coming up through cracks in the hearth.  I managed to open the cave below and discovered that in fact the floorboards were on fire.  Long story short: fire was doused, our hostess was called, the mayor promised to keep an eye on the place, and we tidied up and made our way off on tiny passenger-ennervating roads through the centre of the island.


We passed ski hills to reach our destination, although I have my doubts about the quality of the skiing.  With not a speck of snow in early March, how good can it be even in January? But the mountains, the gorges and the pigs on the winding roads made for a scenic and challenging drive.  Our final night was in a mountain village called Evisa.  The swimming pool was an unhealthy green colour, and the flowers were plastic, but the hospitality was warm and they had a parrot in the dining room.


We spent half of our final day back in Ajaccio, birthplace of Napoleon.  We spent some time at the Musée Flesch, the enjoyment of which suffered somewhat from our recent trip to the Louvre: the paintings were not nearly as high quality, but I did find some good dogs for J.  The museum is adjoined by a chapel containing some impressive trompe l'oeil and the Napolean family crypt.


In a month or so the trees get their leaves and the hill sides bloom, and the tourists return.  It was stunningly as it was; it must be truly spectacular in season.  But I'm just as happy to have missed the crowds.

posted 15.3.07