Derekthered's Corsica blog

Of fairness and unfairness

2011-10-15T08:07:00.000-07:00

I have been critical of car hire firm Europcar in past years. This year, for us, they did much to make amends for past misdeeds.

We came to Bastia two weeks ago on Easyjet’s last flight of the season, so of course we have had to come back another way. We chose to sail with Corsica Ferries from Calvi today, and will board a Flybe flight from Nice to Southampton tomorrow.

Which is fine – except that Europcar’s Calvi Port office has now closed for the season and we had to deliver the hire car back to the airport this morning. So how did we get to Calvi port from Santa Catalina Airport (about 8km) with our luggage? When we explained our problem to the team at Europcar, someone leapt into the car we had just returned and kindly took us to the port at no cost to us, saving us an exorbitant taxi fare. This seems to me to be more than could be expected, and we are grateful to Europcar for their corporate thoughtfulness.

Contrast this with the behaviour of a group of four young girls on the boat to Nice this morning. Having been amongst the first to arrive in the passenger lounge, they promptly sprawled across several comfy sofas, occupying around 12 seats between them. When some older people (not us – we are far too British) arrived and suggested they limit themselves to one seat each, they refused to budge.

Eventually they were shamed into moving up, and I felt justice had been done. I thought the obnoxious culture of getting your towels on the best deckchairs first thing in the morning was long gone – but it seems to have re-emerged in a different form!

Chez Léon

2011-10-14T09:10:00.000-07:00

Finished the painting at last! And it’s still sunny and warm! We celebrated by making our not-quite-annual pilgrimage to Chez Léon, our favourite village restaurant, tucked away off the beaten track at Cateri, in the Balagne. Here’s why we love it so much (apart from the great view of Ste. Antonino from the restaurant - see right) ...

Starters: we both had Corsican soup. The soup (actually more of a thick vegetable broth) arrived in a huge tureen from which we could serve ourselves. Knowing what was to follow, we ate sparingly and only used half of what was on offer.

Seconds: beignets de courgettes. The thinnest slivers of courgette, deep fried in batter, olive oil and herbs. I am sure there is a secret to the way Mme. Andreani prepares these but we have yet to discover it – delicious!

Main course: I had civet de sanglier (wild boar); Chris had veal (humanely brought up here in Corsica I believe). My wild boar came on the bone, but it was so tender the meat fell off it. Mine was served with dauphinoise potatoes; Chris’s came with aubergines.

Fourth course: cheese - Corsican cheese, of course. We were each served with two smallish pieces of cheese – one a chevre, the other a brebis and a little fig jam. I could happily eat the chevre with the lovely fig jam all day, but when it came to the brebis... hmmh, I think I met my match! It was absolutely inedible. I can honestly say I have never had such foul cheese in all my life. On a scale of 1 to 10, strength was about 19, foulness about 32. But interesting and very Corsican!!!

Last course: tiramisou. Absolutely delicious.

All of this washed down with a glass or two of a Sartene rosé and some Orezza sparkling mineral water. All in all a wonderful meal (I didn’t have to eat the cheese did I?) This five-course meal cost us 28 euros per person with the drinks a little extra.

Great value. If you have just one Corsican menu while you’re in Corsica, make it Chez Léon in Cateri.

Aaargh! Painting!!!

2011-10-13T05:56:00.000-07:00

Well that was nice. Now,it’s back to earth with a vengeance. It seems we have to decorate the séjour (living room).

The worst bit of painting is taking all the pictures down (two Doutreleau prints and some photos of echinoid shells taken by one of our sons) plus shifting the furniture around so we can get at the walls.

After a quick trip into Calvi to get some provisions, we launch ourselves at the ceiling and walls. Why have we chosen white? Again? You can’t tell if you have painted it or not and hours after we’d finished, I am still finding bits that haven’t been done.... As I sit here I can see two or three bits of ceiling that look a bit too shiny.

We did escape to the beach at about 4.45pm. It was lovely and sunny and warm as it has been all week, and we had a wonderful swim. Our new pal – the cormorant featured in a recent blog – was there on the rocks keeping an eye on us but he had decided he wasn’t joining us today.

This is the ninth day of continuous sunshine, and the five-day forecast in Corse Matin says it’s set to continue. More painting tomorrow but we should have it licked by around 11.30.

Back to the Balagne - Speloncato

2011-10-12T02:19:00.000-07:00

We have often driven past Speloncato on our way to the Foret de Tartagine, but today we decided to stop there for an hour or two.

Being a Sunday, the 16^th Century church of Santa Croce was open and we loved it. There are two confrerie based in Speloncato, and one of them is based at this church. It is bright, welcoming and airy and the 19^th century organ here is a delight visually (and hopefully aurally).

We went into the crypt. This is tiny and even cosy, and contains a number of wall recesses that I presume must have once contained the bones of former churchmen. One of them is still occupied and contains a recognisable skull.

Driving through the village on the way to Ile Rousse was a bit challenging. We managed to get through the gap between a bar and its next-door neighbour without scraping the Peugeot 207 hire car, but I wouldn’t have liked to attempt this with my Peugeot 308SW from home which is a few inches wider!

Like the villages of the Casinca, Balagne villages just weren’t made for the automobile and Speloncato is no exception. A musician once sent me a CD of music he’d made (Hopeland: Jones - http://subscription.we7.com/#/album/Jones/Hopeland) that included a song called called Speloncato. Must have another listen!

The Casinca – the villages

2011-10-11T06:38:00.000-07:00

The guide books tell us that in the 1200s, when the bishops got fed-up with the mosquito-ridden coastal plain (these pests are now, thankfully, virtually eradicated from these parts) they adjourned from La Canonica (see last post) to nearby Vescovato further inland and away from the swamps.

We went to four villages in the Casinca, of which Vescovato was the first. I reckon Vescovato is the prettiest. We took coffee in the charming and spacious square, then went exploring. To reach the Church of San Martino, practically in the middle of the village and at its highest point, we negotiated numerous enticing stairways and passages, each one of which made us think “Is this someone’s back garden we’re entering?” We weren’t.

Cars just don’t belong in Vescovato (illustrated). There are no roads in the heart of the village and if the people who live in its core possess vehicles, I guess they have to be stored somewhere other than outside their homes.

The other villages we visited were Venzolasca (a little higher up the nearby mountain), Loreto di Casinca (even higher, and a very scary drive indeed to reach it) and Castellare di Casinca (mercifully close to the main East Coast Road).

Loreto probably had the best views of the rest of the Casinca – it’s worth the drive just for that. In Venzolasca, apparently, one can still meet old gents wearing the island’s traditional black corduroy outfits and gunbelts - though we didn’t see any. At Castellare, there’s an ancient Pisan Church built in the 10^th Century and named after St Pancrace. I presume he’s the same chap that the London Station serving Britain’s north East is named after.

So if you are asked in a pub quiz which London Station has a connection with Corsica, the answer is probably St Pancras. He is the patron saint of Corsican bandits. And remember, you learned about this right here in my blog.

Casinca - La Canonica

2011-10-10T07:41:00.000-07:00

It has been a long time, but we have finally got round to spending a day in the Casinca. This ancient region, just south of the road connecting Ponte Leccia to Bastia (but nearer the Bastia end) has been on our must-visit list for years – and finally we got round to it.

We did it the wrong way round. We ended where we should have started, at La Canonica just south of Bastia’s Poretta Airport where the early Pisan bishops had their see. It seems that Christians were here from the very earliest years of the Christian era.

When the first Cathedral was built here in what we English would call The Saxon period (though there certainly weren’t any Saxons round here) it would have been the most impressive building in Corsica. Information on the site tells us that the first bishops here were in all likelihood from North Africa after they had been chased out of there by the vandals in the 2^nd and 3^rd Centuries AD. The ruins of the sixth century basilica (see my photo of some of the remains, above) are still very easily recognisable on the site though the later Cathedral, still standing but annoyingly locked when we visited, is the first feature to take the eye.

This site is yet another reminder that there’s so much more to Corsica than the restaurants and the beaches.

Another close encounter

2011-10-10T03:30:00.000-07:00

I enjoy meeting other species in unexpected circumstances. We had an encounter earlier this year with a snake in Central Corsica, and just over a year ago we met a whale shark off the West coast of Australia.

I had another encounter today, at one of our favourite beaches – Arinella in the Balagne...

A cormorant had been fishing just off the beach and we had been watching it. Surprisingly, it seemed completely oblivious to the people in the water. Needless to say we decided to investigate! Donning my mask and snorkel, out I went into the bay and entered the water as close to the bird as I could.

The reason for the bird’s interest in the shallows became apparent immediately – there were thousands of little fish shoaling a couple of yards off the beach. Ducking my head under the almost completely clear water, I was able to see the bird at work.

On the surface of the sea, you could mistake a cormorant for a black duck with a thin, long neck; below, they look more like sharks or seals. Once in pursuit of a fish, the bird doubled its length and halved its width, streaking through the shallows with enormous speed and power, changing direction and sometimes doubling back on itself, only occasionally surfacing for air.

Once, it came straight for me, swerving only at the last minute to avoid me, passing within a foot, silvery bubbles clinging in patches to its black, oily feathers. The little bird stayed with us for most of an afternoon, giving amusement and pleasure to everyone on the beach.

Not quite on the scale of a whale shark, but in its way just as impressive. I’m sorry the picture I took is of the bird on the surface – he (or she?) looked much more dramatic beneath it.

A day of doing very little

2011-10-08T09:49:00.000-07:00

We have had an extraordinarily busy few weeks what with family visiting from Australia and our 40^th Wedding Anniversary, and we arrived in Corsica yesterday feeling like squeezed out dishcloths. So today we did very little!

Up at about 10. Yes! The weather is sunny and warm!

A quick swim in the lovely pool of our complex.

Back to the flat to do some unpacking and tidying up (including mending the plug in the bathroom sink).

Coffee! Just about woken up at this point.

12.45 - Off to Calvi for a Panini lunch and some shopping.

Back to the flat to put the groceries away, then off to the beach at Arinella, where we note to our delight that the Mata Hari restaurant is still open for the late season. Note for later in the week.

A flat calm sea and a relaxing snorkel – lots to see and plenty of quite large fish. I go to sleep on the beach. Hope our neighbours don’t notice my snores!

Back to the flat around 4.45pm for a cup of tea and a very late siesta.

Wake up at 7pm!!! I make us spaghetti Bolognaise and we crack open an ice-cool bottle of Corsican rosé...

That feels much better. I read a bit of my book (Transition, by Iain Banks) and decide to update my blog – long overdue! Sorry readers!

PS. Another apology - I am afraid the next few entries were written offline, so they will be a few days late...

Mission impossible

2011-07-06T15:19:00.000-07:00

For my sins, I get lots of people writing to me asking about various things Corsican. One of the most frequent requests comes from artists seeking somewhere geographically different to ply their trade.

The idea is to set up shop in a quaint Corsican village, throw energy into painting, pottery, photography, sculpture, literature or whatever, maybe sinking life savings into building a perfect studio. Surrounded by such a wonderful environment, their creations will be amazing and the locals will of course flock to buy them... or will they?

And I usually send the same reply. Corsica has about 300,000 permanent residents, with the population rising to over a million in the summer when tourists arrive. The island has more than its fair share of artists - and most villages have at least one painter, sculptor, photographer, musician or writer to embellish the place’s cultural credentials. Most of these rely on the tourist trade.

Now imagine that you are (heaven forbid!) a wealthy tourist, and you are in Corsica on holiday, seeking to commemorate your visit by buying a piece of art. Would you, in all honesty, buy this from an American, a Brit or a German? No, of course you wouldn’t! You’d buy it from a Corsican.

From what I can determine, the Corsican people, the majority of whom until surprisingly recently operated on a subsistence economy, are not great buyers of art from sources other than their own homeland. So how big a market is there in Corsica for foreign art? I suspect it is rather limited. And every Corsican would have to buy around six foreign artworks per month to sustain the artists who would like to come here. It’s not going to happen.

There’s no local market for foreign art here and there’s not much hope of selling it to tourists. So I tell them it’s probably best to stay where they are. By all means come for a short stay and be inspired by the island’s stunning beauty (and please spend a few euros here – the island could do with them) but unless you are supremely talented, the idea just isn’t sustainable.

Mind you, if my correspondent has plumbing skills, has a qualification as an electrician, or cares to set up as a handyman, my response will be different. It’s hard getting jobs done here. But then they’d have to negotiate France’s strangely complex rules for setting up a business and learn how to pay their taxes...

The relevance of the picture? I dunno, I just felt like including a pretty picture of Scandola that I took last month. Click and enjoy!

The dreaded high-Vs...

2011-07-03T13:49:00.000-07:00

Being in the northwest corner of Corsica as we are, we have a choice of routes when we decide to go to the south of the island. We can go by the beautiful but extremely twisty west coast road, the straight, fast and flat east coast road, or we can go through the middle.

Going through the middle means going via Venaco, Vivario and Vizzavona – the dreaded high Vs!

That’s what we decided to do on our recent trip to Propriano. From Calvi, we went northwest to L’Ile Rousse and Ponte Leccia, turning right at Ponte Leccia towards Corte. If your engine survives so far – so good.

From Corte onwards the fun really starts. The road rises steeply to Venaco and after many twists and turns, you reach Vivario. You wouldn’t think there’d be a higher pass on the island, but you reach one shortly afterwards! Sandwiched between the Monte d’Oro (2,389m high) and Punta di l’Oriente (2,112m high) is the Col de Vizzavona. We stopped briefly for lunch at the top there to see huge tree trunks being carted south to serve the needs of Corsica’s forestry industry (see picture) and myriads of tiny blue butterflies (see close-up) on the high grassland there.

From there the road drops down to Bocognano and Corsica’s equivalent of a capital City, Ajaccio. Utterly spectacular scenery all round as you pass through.

Having successfully negotiated the three Vs and a busy Ajaccio by-pass, I think we got lulled into a false sense of security. On the way out of Ajaccio we got as far as the Col de St Georges when our engine’s cooling system announced that it had had enough for the time being. An enforced 15-minute wait for it to cool down outside the local Gendarmerie, and turning off our air-con was enough to see us safely to our destination.

Coming back, we chickened out of high-V territory in deference to our Peugeot’s overworked radiator and reacquainted ourselves with the east coast. Nice place, Ghisonnaccia – shame about the poor service in the Salon de Thé there.

Holiday reading

2011-07-02T14:25:00.000-07:00

We are on our way home at last.

We’ve been in Corsica for a month, and apart from reading Corse Matin most days, we took a few English books with us to read while we were here.

Our reading ranged from Judith Herrin’s Byzantium and Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall to the biographies of Michael Foot and Keith Richards. Amongst this eclectic mixture you’ll also find Phillippa Gregory’s The Red Queen, Bernard Cornwell’s The Fort and Ian Rankin’s valedictory Rebus novel Exit Music.

There aren’t any references to Corsica in any of these books, but it’s interesting to consider what was happening in Corsica when the action in each of these volumes took place.

Justinian’s Byzantine army probably visited Corsica in the mid sixth century, led by Constantinople’s most successful general, Belisarius. In the year that Constantinople fell to the Ottoman Empire, 1453, Corsica was placed (by the island’s Genoese overlords) in the hands of a financial institution, the bank of St George – a body responsible for building many of the so-called “Genoese Towers” that are still such a feature of the island’s skyline today. Coincidentally, The Red Queen, the story of Margaret Beaufort, heiress to the House of Lancaster, also starts in 1453.

By 1500, when Hilary Mantell’s Booker-winning tome Wolf Hall opens, Corsica is back firmly in Genoese hands. Over two centuries later(1779), when the forces of England’s George III were successfully defending a corner of Massachusetts against an incompetent American attack (Bernard Cornwell’s brilliant The Fort), Corsica’s hero Pascal Paoli was kicking his heels in London, hoping to get back to his native land, which he did in 1795.

Going forward another 150 years, Corsica was liberated by the Allies from the Axis powers in 1943, the year in which Keith Richards was born, and former Labour Party Leader Michael Foot was working as a journalist for London’s Evening Standard. And by 2002, when we decided to buy our little flat in Corsica, Michael Foot was (perhaps thankfully) no longer Party Leader – a time when I suspect Ian Rankin’s hero John Rebus was already beginning to think, with dread, about retirement.

A confrontation

2011-06-30T04:34:00.000-07:00

We were just east of Montemaggiore, nearing the end of our walk, when I heard a very loud rustle in the grass next to the wall just ahead. As I drew alongside, the rustle intensified and out of the undergrowth slithered a long and elegant snake perhaps a metre in length or slightly less.

The snakes I know from home in the UK tend to beat a hasty retreat when they see humans. This one was different. With me slightly in front of it and Chris behind, we were blocking its route across the path, and it reared up, hissing at us. Mainly black on top and a vivid yellow underneath, we reckon it was a whip snake, more accurately described by its French name colèreuse (“hot tempered”). We got the impression that it was less than pleased to find us in its way, and we backed off so that it could cross the path and disappear into a hole in the wall on the other side.

I am sorry that it moved too quickly for me to take its photo...

If we had been relying on the Lonely Planet’s guide to Corsica (2001 edition) we would have been very confused – and possibly scared. The Lonely Planet assures its readers: “Walkers will be happy to learn that there are no snakes in Corsica” – p 28. In fact, there are two – the grass snake and the whip snake, neither of which are poisonous. Why walkers should be pleased to learn of the absence of these fascinating reptiles, venomous or not, is beyond me, and this so-called “fact” about Corsica is just plain wrong.

The circular walk we were about to complete when we met the snake started at Montemaggiore, took in the beautifully simple but isolated Pisan church (pictured) near the hamlet of Lunhignanu, and touched the corner of the village of Casanu, where we were able to replenish our water supply on a very hot day.

This was perhaps the easiest of a new series of walks published by the Balagne Office of Tourism – just 4.5km according to the leaflet (though we thought it was more) and a vertical range of 220 metres. It took us over three hours including stops (the leaflet suggested a length of just 1hr 40 mins!); we found it pretty tough, but may tackle one or possibly two of the others on our next visit.

Argentella – the concert

2011-06-25T02:43:00.000-07:00

It was a pleasure to go to a concert in our beautiful local church at Lumio in the Balagne region (northwest Corsica) earlier this week. The concert – a selection of choral pieces – was given by a choral group calling itself Argentella.

This name is also the name of a tiny village between here and Galeria that used to house a mining community. I’m not sure why the group calls itself after a former silver mine (there certainly aren’t enough people living there to provide the 12 female and seven male vocalists of this group). If anyone knows, please let me know!

I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the performance. The programme was a mish-mash of sacred, popular and traditional Corsican songs that seemed a bit of a roller coaster from where we were sitting, but quality will out, and it did. The audience was challenged to choose items from a sheet listing the group’s repertoire, and the enthusiastic audience (mostly, I suspect, friends and family of the group) kept the singers busy for an hour and a half with their requests.

There is a certain no-nonsense hardness about the tone of some female Corsican vocalists, and Chris and I both spotted its presence here. We love this sound. It is also present in Isulatine, Corsica’s increasingly popular all-woman vocal ensemble, and in others we have heard. I think that if we had heard a recording of Argentella (even if they had been singing Swing Low, Sweet Charioooooh as they did that night) we would have identified them as Corsicans...

We loved Argentella’s slightly dotty conductor and lead singer, and their even dottier percussionist (castanets, half-coconuts/horses’ hooves and drums) with her 10cm high heels.

Well done and good Luck for your future programme, Argentella!

Ospreys in Corsica!

2011-06-24T03:25:00.000-07:00

Take a look at the very substantial nest in my picture. It is one of many such nests in Corsica’s famous Réserve Naturelle de Scandola on the island’s West Coast. It belongs to an osprey family – and is evidence that the local population of ospreys is thriving and well-established.

The osprey – also known as the sea-eagle or (in French) a balbuzard, lives near large bodies of water such as coasts and lakes, and it likes nesting on vertiginous, high pinnacles of rock making the nest almost completely inaccessible to possible predators. I would say that the osprey, with its 5ft wingspan is pretty near the top of the food chain here in Corsica and does not have much to fear from anyone.

Here in Scandola the bird is doubly protected. As well as having plenty of rocky pinnacles, the Parc protects this magnificent bird from us humans. You can’t climb here, you can’t snorkel here except in certain well-defined spots, and you can only walk here on carefully delineated paths.

And the osprey population is thriving. From a low of eight pairs a few years ago, the numbers have risen and risen. On our visit to Scandola recently we saw a number of individuals and at least four nests. We saw quite a few of the birds themselves – and I note, from careful enlargement of a photo I took of some cliffs, that I have managed to take an extra picture of a distant osprey I didn’t even realise was there when I took the photo.

I read in Corse Matin last week that from its stronghold in Corsica, the osprey has begun to re-colonise northern Italy – a territory from which it has been absent for some decades. All it has needed has been a bit of support, and Scandola seems to have given the species exactly that.

Death of a leviathan

2011-06-24T03:24:00.000-07:00

Last week we witnessed one of the saddest sights I have ever seen in Corsica – a dead whale being winched out of the harbour in Propriano.

The huge finback whale (the second largest whale species after the blue whale) was clearly a youngster, being a mere 12m in length and weighing just 16 tonnes. It was first spotted by an aeroplane near Bonifacio, and it later ran aground on the rocks of Murtoli, a snooty private beach in the south west.

No one yet knows how or why it died.

While we were having our dinner at the Restaurant Romano in the Port of Propriano, we became aware of people and cars flocking into the port. Then a very large mobile crane arrived and we saw a tug towing a large load across the bay towards the port. At first I thought it was an upturned boat.

But of course it was nothing of the kind. In between courses we popped across the road to see what was going on. The first attempt managed to get the carcass half out of the water, but the folk in charge of the operation decided to drop it back into the water and I guess that’s where it stayed overnight. The sight (and frankly, the smell) didn’t do much for the digestive process as we finished our meals.

I gather that the body has now been sent elsewhere for dissection to try and establish how and why this enormous creature died.

The Gulf of Valinco

2011-06-17T09:36:00.000-07:00

I had forgotten just what a beautiful place the Gulf of Valinco was. We are here for just two days on this occasion.

The first time we came here was 25 years ago, when we stayed here with our three boys, then in their teens and preteens. Propriano (or if you prefer it in Corsican, Prupria or Prupia) seems to look a little scruffy, as it did then, but things have changed – not all for the worse.

The Hotel Valinco, once the best place in town, has gone. Its skeleton still commands the shoreline at the entrance to the town to the northwest, but the windows have gone and the bedrooms we stayed in a few years ago are empty shells. I’m guessing that the site will be cleared for redevelopment within months. The Post Office has been blown up by Corsican separatists a few times – not sure why, exactly – maybe they’ll do the town a favour and complete the job by demolishing the Valinco.

The beaches are still lovely – especially the Plage de Valinco (pictured) which you can access via the noisy cafe at its centre. And the town gets more than its fair share of boat traffic. While we were here we saw the enormous cruise ship Island Escape and a car ferry leaving its tiny harbour.

There are some excellent (and by Corsican standards far from exorbitant) restaurants in town. We stayed at the Hotel Ibiscus which offers comfortable rooms at good prices with wonderful views across the bay. The picture here really is the view from our balcony.

Our liquid lunch

2011-06-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

A lovely morning, this morning, so we decided to go to the beach at Arinella for a coffee and a swim. And what better way to end the morning than a light lunch at Cafe a Mossa in Lumio?

As we got into the car this morning, the temperature had been registering 36 degC. When we left the car outside the cafe in Lumio, it was distinctly cooler at 15 degC. We should have known better when a waiter started extending the rain covers to maximum. Well, we thought, even if it does rain, the covers will protect us.

We heard the rumblings of thunder first. Then we saw flashes of lightning. By the time we had finished our lunch, the rain had started, but as Tony Bennett would say, the best was yet to come.

We were considering a post-lunch coffee when the rain started in earnest, and clutching our belongings, we fled indoors. Then the real storm arrived.

Only once – in Canada in the early eighties - have I witnessed a more severe storm than the one we witnessed today. The water was inches deep outside the cafe, and as you can see from the picture, the adjacent steps became a torrent.

Our hosts gave us all a glass of eau de vie, on the house, to fortify us as we sheltered from the storm and it was an hour before we could escape without fear of drowning.

We are back in the apartment now, but as I write this the rumblings have started again and the rain is back...

... and later still, a lightning strike has taken out our aerial, so no telly for us tonight.

PS. This was a day or two ago - telly back working!

The Sardinia Vera

2011-06-07T02:08:00.000-07:00

I suspect that the Sardinia Vera is not the pride of Corsica Ferries’ considerable fleet of passenger vessels.

There is an air of tiredness and grubbiness on her that extends from the loose panelling in the Gents’ toilets to the stains on the seats in the passenger lounges. Nevertheless, I always feel welcome on board, both by the friendly and cheerful Italian crew and the crackly rendition of Rossini’s Thieving Magpie when the voyage starts and finishes.

On this, our latest voyage of five and three quarter hours, we had some difficult choices. When our Peugeot refused to go up the ramp to Deck 5, should I risk a burnt-out clutch or the wrath of the crew urging me on? I chose the former, hopefully without ill-effect. Our most difficult choice however concerned our seating. Should we sit in the relatively peaceful but far from silent forward lounge in our reserved seats, or in the noisy rear cafeteria where the engine noise and vibration was close to being physically painful.

It won’t surprise you to learn that we chose to use our comfy seats in the front lounge. At the insistence of a crewman, we had a tape of a recent TV5 broadcast playing on a screen in front of us, and a short music loop coming from a speaker behind us, dominated by Tony Bennett tracks. The sounds of these were fighting each other for our attention at considerable volume.

I think we heard The Best is yet to Come seven times, though it could have been played one more time while we were trying to eat our meals in the noisy cafeteria at the rear. The trouble is, we knew that we had heard the best already, and that all we would get in the future would be more of the same. I just hope they change the tapes before we go back on the same boat in a few weeks’ time.

Answers to the Corsica Bullitinu Christmas Quiz

2010-12-14T06:57:00.000-08:00

Here are the answers to the Christmas Quiz in the December 2010 Corsica Bullitinu! If you don't get the Bullitinu, you can subscribe by completing a brief application on Corsica Isula.

1. There are no venomous snakes in Corsica
2. They went first of all to Ajaccio (then later to Cargese, but the answer is Ajaccio)
3. Loto and Saleccia are two (but there are lots more)
4. The third part is Bassu
5. Fiadone
6. Sciacarellu is the answer. The other Corsican red wine grape, Niellucciu, also grows in Italy but is called something different there
7. Tino Rossi
8. The USA
9. Ponte Nuovu
10. Lavezzi Isles. A footballer called Ezequiel Lavezzi plays for Napoli and Argentina
11. Corsica's most popular beer, Pietra, contains chestnuts
12. Aleria, on Corsica's east coast. The photo above is of the ruins of the Roman Fort there
13. The King of Aragon
14. They are Haute Corse and Corse du sud
15. The Bureau of Investigation, later renamed the Federal Bureau of Investigation or FBI. (FBI will do)
16. The third ferry company is the Italian operator Moby Lines
17. The 2nd Parachute Regiment (See Oct 18th 2009 entry in this blog)
18. The railway runs from Bastia in the north to Ajaccio in the south
19. The October Festival is the Festival du vent (Wind Festival)
20. The Corsican Nuthatch.

Happy Christmas everybody!

A myriad of fish

2010-09-26T04:10:00.000-07:00

What a difference it makes when the wind drops! We’ve had one big storm and a few nightly rumblings of thunder over the past few days, but after a blustery morning the wind has given us a bit of a breather for some snorkelling this afternoon.

So, with Chris’s back somewhat better, we go back to Punta di Spanu, the wild little peninsula that is locked away behind the water-sports Mecca of Sant’ Ambroggio in the Balagne. And the water in our favourite little cove is clear and calm.

Once we have finned our way past the bathers standing, splashing and chatting in the sandy shallows, we are off into deeper waters. First, the rocks appear, then the water becomes distinctly but not unpleasantly cooler and almost completely transparent.

And we are surrounded. Not by thousands but quite literally millions of little fish. They don’t appear to be going anywhere, just staying still in their myriads, taking up space and occupying the little bay completely. The visibility is set by the density of the fish; underneath, bigger fish pass by, some prowling in purposeful formations, others with completely separate directions and, presumably, different agendas. Ships that pass in the night.

Beyond the enormous shoal we can see a deeper sandy patch perhaps 6 metres down, and in the distance, some 20 metres away in the crystal clear water, a huge boulder rises from the sand, grazing the surface to give swimmers a false impression of shallowness. The sun’s rays twist round the sides of the boulder and catch tiny glistening particles in the water.

It’s a soundless paradise down there and there is hardly a ripple. I turn into a tiny, rocky inlet where the sand, weed and rocks are beach-bright in the sunshine and small rock fish dart about... I am genuinely sorry to disturb them.
We have taken our masks and snorkels to more famous and more tropical oceans than this, but nothing matches this little patch of sea for its peace, majesty and beauty.

Adventures on hold

2010-09-25T02:43:00.000-07:00

Friday’s winds have brought our adventures to a temporary halt. What we thought of as a quick dip in the sea at Lozari turned into a swim of less than two minutes as Chris was bowled over by a particularly strong wave. She has somehow damaged her back and can scarcely move.

As usual, it happened at the beginning of the weekend when doctors and nurses leave their surgeries unattended. So we’ve been hanging round the apartment rather a lot and I have been making use of the pool here at the résidence.

Though I love snorkelling, I’m not a keen surface swimmer and have always found swimming lengths of a pool exhausting and boring. Here however, I can bear it. The views of Calvi and the Revelatta peninsula from our poolside are spectacular. In the morning the trees along the east side of the pool cast a speckly shadow over the sunbeds and one can spread out in cool comfort between dips. This morning there was a red kite wheeling overhead as I swam.

And Chris has been doing a lot of reading. To give herself a break from Barack Obama’s worthy autobiography, she’s been reading the Corse Matin women’s supplement, entitled Femina. For some reason, this week’s editorial makes a passing reference to the piratical practices of Captain Hook and we were both amused to realise that the French name for that fearsome pillager and plunderer is Capitaine Crochet...

It’s no wonder there aren’t many famous French pirates - though the word Corsair is derived from Corsica so I guess there were a few of ‘em around here.

The confrerie – a force for good in Corsica

2010-09-24T01:51:00.000-07:00

Most visitors to Corsica and the wider Mediterranean area will remain ignorant of the work of the “confrerie” or lay brotherhoods in Corsican communities. But visit a Corsican town or village at Easter and it is quite likely that you will see a dramatic religious procession in which the brotherhoods are involved.

In these processions, penitents wearing white, black or red hoods walk through the streets singing hymns and in some instances dragging chains attached to their feet. They look strange and, frankly, a little scary with pointed hoods and just slits for eyeholes.

In my last blog I congratulated one of the brotherhoods, that of San Carlu in Monticello, for supporting a concert. But looking scary and supporting the arts are by no means all they do.

Today we went to an exhibition at the Museu di a Corsica in Corte which describes the work of the confrerie and outlines their history in the region. The brothers, rooted in the Middle Ages, are an attempt by devout but lay members of the Corsican community to create and manage an ideal society. They adhere to egalitarian principles and have written codes outlining their structures, and the rights and duties of each brotherhood’s membership. Their leaders are democratically elected.

They act as mediators, counsellors, activists, and financiers. While they are aligned with and support their local churches they act independently of them. A dramatic and very ornate spirituality becomes apparent at Easter, Good Friday, Palm Sunday and other religious festivals when they take part in and sometimes organise religious processions. They help the dying to achieve a “good death” not just in a spiritual way but by encouraging people to write wills and put their affairs in order. They will sometimes even foot the bill for funeral expenses.

The Exhibition, which started in July and runs up to 30th December 2010, is called “Les Confréries de Corse” and exhibits hundreds of documents, some 240 works of art and vestments used by the confreries in their processions and ceremonies. Intriguingly, it also places the Corsican brotherhoods in an international context which includes Spain, Italy and France.

King Theodore and other presumptuous interlopers

2010-09-23T04:31:00.000-07:00

We have been to another excellent concert at the Eglise St Charles in Monticello. Last time we came here it was to see a group of young music students from Paris; this time, we attended a concert of baroque music performed by staff members of the Conservatoire de Musique de Bastia.

For some strange reason, the concert was called Les voyages de Theodore. King Theodore was Corsica’s only king of any kind and his brief and embarrassing reign will shortly be documented in a book written by Julia Gasper. I await this book’s publication with interest, but what the journeys of His Presumptuous Highness have to do with this wonderful and uplifting collection of music by Telemann, Rameau, Bach, Handel and Vivaldi I can’t begin to imagine.

The concert was performed on organ, harpsichord, and ancient versions of the flute, violin and cello. I particularly enjoyed Rameau’s short piece Le Vezinet performed with great virtuosity by V. Loriaut on the harpsichord.

But the King Theodore angle remains a mystery. Another thing I couldn’t understand was the florid commentary by an unnamed male announcer which might have solved the problem. The audience of locals and holidaymakers were visibly bored as he launched into five or more minutes of arm-waving explanations and erudite pontification before and after each piece.

He didn’t explain things clearly enough for me to understand much of what he said, but I could tell from the quivering intensity of his delivery that he greatly enjoyed the experience.

Notwithstanding these last remarks, the Confrerie San Carlu of Monticello are to be congratulated for supporting this excellent and stimulating concert. How sad that there were only 25 or so of us there to enjoy it.

A Corsican with an Irish accent

2010-09-22T03:34:00.000-07:00

There’s rarely a year goes by that we don’t find ourselves at the Mata Hari restaurant in Lumio at some time or other during one of our stays.

Since we started going there some ten years ago, the prices have gone up and it is no longer possible to order a pichet of local wine: the Mata Hari has undoubtedly gone upmarket with its white linen serviettes and uniformed staff. But we are still given a sincere and dignified welcome by the proprietor - despite the fact that we never select an item from his specials board - and the food we do choose is always of excellent quality and value.

A number of the waiters remember us from one year to the next. This year, however, we were served by a waiter we hadn’t met before. Now as readers of this blog will probably know, we do try to stick to French when ordering our meals. Today was no exception, but as we were paying the bill while savouring the last few drops of our Renucci rosé, our waiter asked Chris in a familiar and beautifully modulated voice if she was Irish.

A little taken aback, she explained that my family was Irish. He had spotted her Claddagh ring (a 25th Wedding Anniversary gift bought while in Galway) and the Irish family name on our French debit card and had come to this perfectly reasonable conclusion.

Our Corsican waiter had lived in Waterford for six years and had there picked up not only the gift of the gab but a distinctly Irish vocal inflexion. Clearly a man after my own heart. On our next visit to my family’s homeland I hope we find an Irishman with a Corsican accent to balance things up.

More stuff about fruit

2010-09-01T06:04:00.000-07:00

Whenever we go to Corsica, I'm always conscious of the stuff I'm not doing at home and the jobs we have to before we go.

With an all-clear from the hospital following my operation, I'll be going to my favourite island with a lighter heart than I did in June, but we do have a less weighty concern on our minds now.

It mainly concerns fruit. Following a peach glut, a french bean glut, a plum glut, a courgette glut and a tomato glut in our garden here in the UK, we now have a fig glut and an apple glut to contend with. We've had courgette cake and cougette salad, beans with everything and home made tomato soup even though we've given lots away. I think Chris is giving us a peach smoothie and some plum crumble this evening and she's now talking about a compote of figs.

We can freeze some of this of course but there is only so much room in the freezer. I think a second freezer is going to become a necessity.

And the most annoying thing? After we land in Corsica's Figari Airport next Saturday, our first port of call will be to Super U in Porto Vecchio where we will have to stock up on, amongst other things ... fruit and vegetables.

The naked beauty of a peach

2010-08-21T07:27:00.000-07:00

Timothy Winter, otherwise known as Sheikh Abdul-Hakim Murad, is one of the world's most infuential muslims. It may surprise you to know that his journey towards spiritual enlightenment began on our favourite island with the juice of a peach dripping down the chin of a naked French teenager.

According to The Independent (20th August 2010) young Timothy was packed off to Corsica at the age of 15 to spend some time with a French family. The family, which included four daughters, were enthusiastic nudists. It was while he was on one of Corsica's beautiful beaches that he observed rivulets of peach juice running down the chin of one of these young ladies and unsurprisingly the scene made a deep impression on him. Why not indeed - most of Corsica's beaches are outstandingly lovely and the peach was probably local!

Anyway, whilst taking in all this beauty, it occurred to Timothy that beauty is not just something that can be explained away by brain function. So started a spiritual journey for a very remarkable young man.

This story brings to mind a parallel Corsica story that happened to our family when our sons were in their teens and pre-teens. We stayed in Propriano in a big rambling apartment with another family on the top floor. The girls were around the same age as our lads and we got to know them all during trips to the beach, midnight snorkelling expeditions and barbecues. We didn't get as far as nudism, but as I recall it bikini tops were discarded at some stage and I am sure this contributed mightily to the older boys' enjoyment of the holiday.

I saw no sign of any spiritual development however - perhaps we needed a peach or two to complete the picture.

Interruption to normal service

2010-07-19T04:11:00.000-07:00

I have been neglecting this blog, but I am hoping to be able to recommence my jottings on a more frequent basis as the year rolls forward.

Last October, just after returning from Corsica, I tested positive for prostate cancer and for the past eight months my life has been dominated by hospital visits, tests, more tests and finally, on 30th June, a spell in hospital to have the troublesome organ removed. I am now at home, gradually recovering and regaining use of various body functions. We are hoping to go back to Corsica for a couple of weeks later in the year.

Our last visit to our favourite island before my operation was a memorable one. Highlights were a drive between Ile Rousse and Ponte Leccia along the old, wild, pre-Balanina road, some wonderful evenings in our apartment watching the sun go down and an excellent concert featuring Meridianu in Algajola.

We are getting rather fond of Algajola. Somehow, we managed to eat at the U Castellu restaurant there on two occasions. It's a shame we can only get there by car from where we stay.

We managed a few shortish walks. One was a stroll to the Genoese tower at Punta Caldanu - the surrounding land was covered in Immortelle when we were there. Immortelle is a kind of reminder to us (as if I needed it) that we are anything but immortal ourselves.

Parking your car under water? It'll cost you...

2010-07-13T11:07:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of time for our local council in Calvi.

With a bit of help from elsewhere, they have made the main road into the city truly spectacular, with broad paved walkways and road islands festooned with wonderful flowers. It has made a real difference and I now feel that I am arriving somewhere amazing, even when I drive in to Super U to do the shopping!

Some time ago, however, I believe they made an error of judgement. Anybody could have made it and I'm not going to make a meal out of it...

There is a big unpaved area on the right as you drive past the supermarkets, and for years it has been a free car park, an unofficial overnight resting place for motor homes and a quick and easy route to the beach. What has happened recently is that about half the car park has been cordoned off and drivers parking there have been charged to park there.

So far so good. It just meant that on any one day, the free half of the area was crammed full of cars and there might have been one or two unwitting newcomers in the paying section of the area.

But I don't think the planners took account of the weather forecast or the drainage. This June, after torrential rain, the whole of the paying area of the car park was flooded, making entry impossible without serious inconvenience. And the free part remained dry.

Maybe the summer sun has dried out the pay-park for July and August and the Council will get their income - I'm sure someone will let me know. While I was there however, the car park looked more like an anchorage!

Dorothy Carrington remembered

2010-05-17T03:14:00.000-07:00

On 6th June it will be the 100th anniversary of the birth of Dorothy Carrington, Corsica's famous English writer. As well as being the author of Granite Island, perhaps the most authoritative book (in any language) on Corsica written during the last century, she is a figure who is fondly remembered all over the island. Although I was a frequent visitor to the island during her last years, I never had a chance to meet her.

Her birth will be marked in style on the island - and Corsophiles all over the world have a chance to join in. See www.festival-dorothycarrington.com for details.

There is a photographic competition, open to everyone, in which entrants are invited to submit photos inspired by Dorothy's writings. Please note that the closing date for this competition is 25th May 2010, so there's no time to lose.

The other event is a lunch, to be held in Ajaccio on her birthday, Bookings are now being taken. See the website above for details.

Transfers

2010-02-02T07:42:00.000-08:00

As Britain's cold,cold winter of 2009/10 enters a wet February, I am reminded that the sporting life goes on in my favourite island: on the last day of football's transfer window, a French footballer, Gauthier Mahoto, was sold by Portsmouth FC to the Corsican team of FC Bastia.

France's two most southern football teams, FC Bastia and Ajaccio, have enjoyed strange parallels with their British counterparts over recent years. Like Bastia and Ajaccio, my own team Southampton and its neighbour Portsmouth have slipped from the heights they used to enjoy. Both Bastia and Ajaccio used to grace France's top flight and are now getting used to life in the second tier. Southampton have suffered the triple ignominy of a double drop to England's 1st Division and a financial collapse that last season plunged them into financial administration.

Portsmouth, meanwhile, managed to cling on to their Premiership status last year. However, even as I write this the club is struggling both for Premiership and financial survival and some commentators have surmised that Pompey too could follow Southampton's downward path.

In the meantime, seventeen year old midfielder Gauthier Mahoto finds himself helping to pay for Portsmouth's hoped-for survival by changing the country where he weaves his magic. Let's hope he does well and gets Bastia back onto the path towards promotion to France's Division 1. But I fear his departure won't provide enough cash to be of much help to his former employer.

The wrong kind of snow ... 2009 style

2009-12-21T07:01:00.000-08:00

It's a long time since we heard that phrase - first uttered by a hapless British Rail spokesperson some years ago, trying to explain the failure of Britain's rail services in adverse weather conditions.

Well, as I write this, people travelling between England and France via Eurostar in the pre-Christmas period have had their journeys interrupted, postponed or cancelled due to snow getting into trains' engines. It seems that normal snow doesn't cause this kind of problem. If "the wrong kind of snow" wasn't such a loaded, redolent phrase it would undoubtedly have been used again in December 2009 to describe the troublesome weather we are experiencing presently.

I don't think we'll be checking out Eurostar's services until the weather warms up a bit. In the meantime, I think we have just cleared out our local Waitrose's stock of Colomba, Corsica's delightful wheat beer, and most of its stock of Corsica's better known beer, Pietra. If there are people in the Southampton area who find empty shelves when hoping to purchase a bottle or two of either before Christmas, you have my sincere apologies.

Corsica's Indian Summer of 2009

2009-10-20T07:06:00.000-07:00

As I write this on 6th October, Corsica’s Indian summer is still in full swing. Today, we walked from Ostriconi Village, in the Balagne’s northern corner, across Ostriconi’s fabulous beach, and along the northern edge of the desert des Agreates in the direction of St Florent. Of course we didn’t get that far – it’s a two or three day hike and we were just out for a day’s stroll.

And apart from anything else it was too hot. We got as far as a windy bluff above a tiny cove with crystal clear water occupied by two canoeists in a canoe biplace. I’m not sure what the place was called. We were grateful for the little patches of shade that we encountered on the way back, thanks to a few clumps of trees, but by the time we got back to Ostriconi, we were hot and sweaty. We practically tore off our boots and clothes as we got to the beach and plunged into the autumn-cool Mediterranean. What a joy!

Before the big autumn winds come, the beaches in the Balagne look a bit like a dance floor after all but one or two of the dancers have left. Even sparsely-populated Ostriconi looks a little tired at the end of the season, with thousands of footprints, the remains of children’s sandcastles and constructions made of driftwood along its considerable length.

I like the autumn winds here. They strip this beach clean of all evidence of human passage, leaving it clean and dazzling – just a belt of perfect white sand between the blue breakers of the Northern Mediterranean and the darker waters of the lagoon behind with its precious ecosystem.

Archery in the Balagne

2009-10-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

I have known for some time that archery is bigger news in Corsica than it is in Britain. Unfortunately, my sport gets virtually no coverage in the UK media except in items about the Olympic Games when “our boys and girls” suddenly become medal hopes.

Imagine my delight therefore, when a group of archers, competing in the Balagne, made it to the front page of Corse Matin last week. These archers were competing in a form of the sport in which I have yet to take part – namely field archery, in which groups of archers tramp through the countryside and then take pot-shots at targets across river beds, nestling amongst bushes and in other places where you would least expect them. Twenty archers from all over the island were taking part, and I was pleased to see that the hosts of the event were the local archery club here in Calvi.

At the end of the article were the details of their work-a-day evening meetings, and I decided to go along and take part. Somewhat presumptuously, I had taken my bow with me this visit, and so I was all prepared for the evening.

Much to my surprise, on arriving the Halle des Sports at Calvi, I found just three other adults and a dozen or so lads between the ages of nine and twelve, all eager to learn the sport. The hall was hot and humid – not the best conditions for our sport, and I was not at my best, but it’s always good to talk to other archers whatever their ages.

It was good to get my arms, shoulders and brain working again, and I was given a very warm welcome by the Club’s Président, Monsieur Derond. I have been assured that I will receive an equally warm welcome on future visits, and I greatly look forward to taking further part in the club’s activities.

Using agricultural roof-space in high-tech Corsica

2009-10-19T02:23:00.000-07:00

I have just been reading about one of the best and greenest ideas I’ve ever come across, in today’s (5th October) Corse Matin.

The Chamber of Agriculture of Haute Corse is promoting this energy saving suggestion to local farmers and it works like this…

The farmers of northern Corsica have hectare upon hectare of land occupied by agricultural buildings, and the Government is proposing that some of the resulting roofing is populated with photovoltaic cells. Forget crude solar-powered water pumps - these cells have the capacity of turning the sun’s energy directly into electricity, and instead of being used inefficiently on site, it is fed back into France’s electricity grid. The farmer receives about 43 cents per kilowatt hour generated.

This is a pretty new idea and I haven’t done the sums on how much cash this is likely to bring in for a typical farmer, or indeed how much of Corsica’s energy will be able to be generated in this way.

Although I’ve nothing in principle against nuclear energy, I feel that at present too much of France’s energy needs are met by nuclear power stations (though much of Corsica’s electricity comes from hydro-electric power). All said and done, this photo-voltaic scheme seems like a fundamentally good idea.

The Foreign Legion on parade

2009-10-18T06:34:00.000-07:00

It’s the first Sunday after St Michael’s day and this is the day that the 2nd Parachute Regiment of France’s Foreign Legion opens the doors of its headquarters at Camp Raffalli to the people of the Balagne in northwest Corsica.

Lying on the beach at Arinella yesterday, we had seen stick after stick of parachutists dropping out of the bellies of large grey aeroplanes and landing in neat rows on the ground. But today it was about military bands, regimental songs and honouring the regiment’s current and past heroes.

We were a little late for the prise d’armes du camp and the main road outside Camp Raffalli was crowded with parked cars. Fortunately, our lateness meant we were able to take up a position outside the Salle d’Honneur within the camp and got a perfect view of the proceedings.

The ceremony didn’t disappoint. As usual with this regiment, there was not a gesture, a note, a garment or a leaf out of place. Even the gravel had been combed into neat lines for the occasion! The most moving part, for me, was right at the start when a group of former legionnaires, in plain clothes but wearing their berets, marched to their place of honour singing their regimental song. In the moment of silence after they had passed, nothing could be heard but the screech of a red kite in the skies overhead.

During the ceremony, one of our neighbours living here in Lumio was given a special honour: Lucien Thomas, a former legionnaire who spent many years in Africa and elsewhere, was elevated to the position of Officer of the Légion d’Honneur. Hearty congratulations, Monsieur Thomas.

Sagone and Vico

2009-10-17T09:34:00.000-07:00

These two villages in Corsica’s rugged west have little in common these days but are bound together both in their proximity and in their history.

Sagone is a sprawling, somehow tired-looking ribbon of habitation and tourist development that spreads along the road linking Cargese to the island’s capital of Ajaccio. It boasts several wonderful beaches, a number of good restaurants and the ruins of a medieval cathedral (not much of it left - see photo above, right. When we went there in early October, half the hotels and restaurants were shut, but we enjoyed great views from our hotel balcony, the weather was great and the sea was warm. We loved it there.

Vico, tucked away in the mountainous interior a few kilometres inland and several hundreds of metres higher up, is a different proposition altogether. Reputedly one of the most nationalist villages on the island, Vico was the recipient of vicious brutality by the Genoese some centuries ago, when 23 men were killed as a punishment to the village for daring to rebel. We had a friendly reception there nevertheless – Vico’s village square and narrow streets boast a number of sunny cafes where, as Corsica’s tourist season came to a close, we were able to purchase lunch (provided it was croquet monsieur and salad – seems all the other items on the menu were off). There are astonishing views of the surrounding mountains from nearly everywhere in the village – especially from the steps of Vico’s thriving church.

Sagone’s medieval bishops decided to abandon their cathedral in Sagone when Saracen invaders (and, I suspect, that other invader, the mosquito) made life too difficult, and they decamped to Vico where they looked after the spiritual needs of the people in the surrounding area for some 200 years.

Corsica’s Cathars

2009-10-17T06:38:00.000-07:00

Not so long ago I made a reference to a medieval Christian group called the Cathars, in an item about the theft of various of our belongings from our car whilst staying in Carcassonne in southern France. Today I came across a grisly but somehow believable story about a group of Corsican Christians who dared to challenge the Roman Catholic Church and who also paid with their lives – the Giovannali.

In Corsica’s mountainous interior, not far from the village of Vivario, there is a mountain 1260m in height which is intriguingly called the Christe Eleison, a liturgical phrase familiar to all who have attended Mass in a Roman Catholic church.

In the last years of the 14th Century, many years after the last Cathars had gone to their doom on the mainland, it seems there was a breakaway group of Christians in Corsica who, like the Cathars before them, favoured a rough and community-based lifestyle (I’m afraid I know nothing of their theology). Like the Cathars, they were excommunicated and sentenced to be burnt at the stake, and tradition in the region has it that as they were being led to their fate they released two doves, chanting the words “Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison…”.

Unlike many of the other fabulous tales in this blog, I didn’t think this story up myself. Indeed, I am indebted to Charles Pujos, the author, and Libris, the publishers of Haute-Corse – 100 Balades et Randonnées who offer a five-hour saunter on the slopes of the Christe Eleison as one of the walks they recommend. Sounds a bit tough to me.

Of nepotism, hats and Bonapartism

2009-10-15T09:30:00.000-07:00

We have just been to the exhibition Napoléon et Corsica held at the Musée de la Corse in Corte (20th June to 30th December 2009). Not knowing what to expect, and being born in an era when the man was a historical figure rather than a hero or a focus of hate, I reckon I went there with a pretty open mind.

Two things struck me going round the exhibition – one of them of a serious nature, the other undoubtedly trivial…

Let’s get the serious one out of the way first. One hears that Napoléon, having left Corsica for the mainland in pursuit of a bigger picture than he could view from his birthplace in Ajaccio, more or less abandoned the island of his birth and swept Corsica from his mind once his more lofty ambitions began to be realised.

I learnt from the exhibition, however, that he brought a little of Corsica with him on his campaigns: not only did he favour his Corsican friends with generalships and positions of authority in his regime, but he also bestowed kingdoms on his immediate family. His empire included several kingdoms: brother Joseph became the King of Naples (and later, for a while, the king of Spain); sister Elisa became Grand-Duchess of Tuscany and Napoléon’s problem brother Louis was briefly placed on the throne of Holland. Jerome, also under his elder brother’s orders, was made king of Westphalia and an Uncle was promoted to the positions of Archbishop and Cardinal of Lyon. One of eight siblings, it seems that Emperor Napoléon had almost as much trouble managing the demands of his family as dealing with an increasingly restless Europe.

On a more trivial note I was intrigued to find out more about his famous hat. Whereas generals of the time wore similar hats, theirs were more ornate… Napoléon’s was stark in its simplicity. It seems he wore it all the time. But I use the pronoun loosely, for no fewer than 170 were made for him, all exactly the same.

All this seems excessive to me. Mind you, I forgot my own hat when I came to Corsica this autumn, and I was forced to buy another. That one was too small and didn’t fit too well so I bought another yesterday. Perhaps I’ve contracted a form of Bonapartism, which, according to the exhibition, was present in Ajaccio at least as late as 2001. Maybe it’s still alive and well here in Lumio.

Corsica’s insect life

2009-10-14T04:45:00.000-07:00

Many people visiting Corsica only experience the local insect population via the fangs of the local mosquitoes, though these interactions are mercifully less than in days gone by thanks to intensive treatment of the island with DDT during World War II.

Mosquitoes drove the Genoese out of their fortress at Porto Vecchio, and had been responsible for the forcible relocation of two bishoprics on the east coast some centuries earlier. Fortunately, it’s possible to take a more detached view of Corsica’s insects these days.

As we left to go on our walk in the Desert des Agriates the other day (where incidentally we saw masses of butterflies), I noticed a large, green praying mantis on the wall of our apartment building. He wasn’t bothering anyone, just stuck there on the wall, all three inches of him, waving his forelegs around.

We see a lot of local wildlife on that wall. Last June, we had a bit of a gathering of crickets in Lumio and again, they seemed to take a liking to our warm wall in the evening and early morning. One of them was so large (see above - at least as long as our friend the praying mantis) that we rushed to wikipedia to see if it was a locust. Unlikely, it would appear, as there weren’t enough of him.

I have yet to see either of Corsica’s rather more scary insect residents – the Corsican Black Widow spider and the local variety of scorpion. If I do, you’ll be the first to hear about the encounter. In the meantime, why doesn’t someone write a book about Corsica’s insects? They are varied, interesting and (in some cases) surprisingly large. I’d buy such a book even if it were only in French.

Tourists flock to Corsica in 2009

2009-10-13T11:39:00.000-07:00

Economic crisis? What economic crisis? Without wishing to sound un peu smug, I feel obliged to point out that a prediction I made last year (Oct 8th 2008) has come true. It seems that Corsica has enjoyed a record season for tourism despite the world’s unfavourable economic circumstances.

By the time the 2009 season ends, some 2,690,000 people will have taken their holidays on my favourite island – representing an amazing 28 million “people-nights”. According to projections made recently by the Agence de Tourisme de la Corse, 2009 will enjoy a 5% increase on the excellent tourist figures recorded in 2008 (source: Corse Matin – 22nd September 2009).

Although I enjoy Corsica’s empty beaches like the rest of you, I rejoice in the economic success that these figures represent, for all kinds of reasons. The forecasters reckon that by the time that Corsica’s October sighs exhaustedly to a close, some 1.3 billion euros will have been spent. Contrast that with the 1 billion euros spent here in the same period last year, and that’s a real shot in the arm for the local economy. Many of these euros will eventually roll down into the pockets of local people – and that’s got to be good news for everyone who loves Corsica.

And for my next prediction? It’s that Corsican wine will become a good deal more popular internationally than it is now. With competition from California, Australia and others, the French wine industry will need to look for local heroes, and where better to look than the artisan wine producers of Ajaccio, Calvi and Patrimonio with their unfamiliar cépages and unique, hot microclimates?

And that, by the way, would make Corsica slightly less dependent on tourism for its economic welfare. Watch this space.

A wet walk in the desert

2009-10-13T11:13:00.000-07:00

Today we decided to revisit a walk we have done once before, along the edge of the Desert des Agriates where the rocks of this “desert” tumble down into the Gulf of St Florent. The last time we did the walk we started out too late in the day – the Tour de Mortella had proved just too far and we had been forced to turn back with the tower visually close but tantalisingly out of reach.

After a worryingly bumpy ride along an unmade road – the recent heavy rains have gouged huge ruts in its surface – we finally parked our car in the car park at the head of the Anse de Fornali. Refreshed by coffee from our flask and armed with swimming gear, our lunch and plenty of water, we were off.

The walk, part of the Sentier de Douaniers, dives into dense woodland, then immediately breaks out into a flat and accessible mud and rock path that winds along the coast north east, away from St Florent in the direction of Ostriconi. For once, the Mediterranean sun was hiding behind a veil of thin cloud and we were grateful for it. To say the walk zig-zags would be an understatement. One minute you are close to a jutting promontory where cormorants stand rock-still waiting for their prey; a hundred metres later you are tramping along a weed-strewn shingle beach, heading for the next scrambling ascent.

Two rivers crossed our path and needed to be crossed by us. The first, the Fiume de Boghiu, has a sandy bar across its mouth and we were able to cross it with few problems. The second, larger river, the Fiume Santu, is another proposition altogether. Here the sand bar is set back from the coast and you have to wade thigh deep in the sea to get to it. And at the northern end of the bar we found another problem – the river, swollen with recent rain, had cut a deeper than usual gouge in the bar and made wading impossible.

It was time for our swimming gear. With all our belongings in our ruck-sacks, we braved the sea, walking in an arc round the mouth of the river. At the furthest point we were forced to put our bags on our heads as the water rose to our chests. We were grateful to feel the level dropping again as we approached the other side.

Another hour’s walking brought us to the imposing Tour de Mortella. Just half of it, the north-facing half, remains. Originally part of Genoa’s coastal defence system, the tower is now incredibly remote, with only the seagulls, foolhardy walkers and the Mortella lighthouse for company.

Then of course, we had to walk back.

The Spirit of Saint Francis

2009-09-24T02:55:00.000-07:00

We have at last made a long overdue visit to the Couvent de Corbara - something we should have done decades ago. At the moment, the convent is a retreat centre and home to a community of Catholic monks who are members of the relatively new Order of Saint John, but the Convent’s origins go much further back than 1975 when the order was founded.

Perched on a hill behind Paoli’s Port of Ile Rousse in the Balagne, the Convent presents a striking view to motorists passing along the twisty lane connecting the village of Corbara with its close neighbour, Pigna. You can visit the Convent any day of the week except Thursday, but we chose to visit on Sunday 20^th September, one of two days in which Corsicans formally celebrate their heritage.

We were shown round the Convent and attached church by Frère Jean-Marc, who told us a little about its history and along the way explained something of the life of the monks who live there. It was founded as an orphanage in 1430, but just over 30 years later the Franciscans established a convent there and it has been a convent for most of its life since then. Badly damaged in the politically unstable 1700s, the buildings had to be abandoned shortly afterwards. The place lay in ruins for over 50 years, but was brought to life again by another religious order – this time the Dominicans. When World War I broke out, the religious life of the Convent was once again interrupted as the monks were evicted so the place could be used as a POW camp. The monks returned in 1927.

This peaceful place is now in the hands of the Order of Saint John, whose founder spent an earlier part of his religious life as a Dominican. There are images in the church honouring both St Dominic and the original source of the Convent’s religious inspiration, Saint Francis of Assisi. While we were there, we enjoyed watching a smiling monk feeding a huge family of baby tortoises, each just a few centimetres long. It seems that the ideals of this animal-loving saint live on amongst the Convent’s current occupants.

The trouble with going to Corsica

2009-07-13T08:28:00.000-07:00

The handsome chap on the right is not a Corsican cat. Stanley is every inch an English cat, but has somehow managed to become a subject for scrutiny in this otherwise very Mediterranean diary.

Like so many other families, we have to find somewhere for our cats to stay when we go to our favourite island. Could we leave them both at home and get our kind neighbours to feed them while we are away? I'm afraid not. Our cats, Coco and Stanley (seen here taking his ease) do not get on.

Coco, a petite Burmese weighing in at a modest 3.5 kg, despises Stanley with a deep and consummate loathing. There is a good deal of hissing and spitting when they meet. Stanley, a robust neutered tom displacing the scales at a little over 7 kg, enjoys chasing Coco to all ends of the house - a house which they both regard as exclusively theirs. Needless to say it's an unequal contest and encounters usually end in catty tears.

So we have effectively divided the house in two, with Stanley in charge of the back (lounge, back hall, downstairs bedroom and catflap) and Coco roaming the front (kitchen, dining room and upstairs most of the time).

And when we go away, they have to be housed separately. Coco retires to the safety of a cattery and Stanley stays at home, looked after by our friends next door. It kind of works but it's expensive and causes us a lot of grief. Anybody got any ideas?

The Fango - a precious Corsican environment

2009-06-26T04:58:00.000-07:00

We spent a great afternoon on - and in - the River Fango a few days ago. If you don't know where this is, go to Galeria on Corsica's west coast and you'll find the Fango delta on the outskirts of the town.

We hired a bright yellow canoe to explore the delta. It is a wilderness of grasses, bamboo, water lilies and a myriad of little inlets and a canoe is just about the only way you'll get to see it. Try walking round there and you will get bogged down very rapidly. We knew there were turtles in the delta but in all honesty we weren't expecting to see any, so we were delighted to see not just one but nine or ten, quietly sitting on logs in the sunshine as we paddled slowly past (Click on the picture to get a better view of them).

Later in the afternoon we went for a swim further up river at the tiny village of Tuarelli, a few kilometres inland. The river is quite deep here and unlike many other river bathing places on the island you can really swim here rather than just splash about. Even though there were still patches of snow on the mountains, the river was surprisingly warm for June. I didn't see any trout in the river while we were having our dip, but I've seen plenty in recent years and I know they are there.

The River Fango is a very precious environment and a nature reserve. If you have had your fill of the beach and can't face a mountain walk, I can recommend the Fango as a very special place to visit where you can relax and enjoy a few hours of total peace.

Porto Vecchio revisited

2009-06-25T04:40:00.000-07:00

The last time we spent any time in Porto Vecchio was in 1993, so I felt it was time to take another look. We were camping then with our teenage lads and the chances to go exploring in the old town were few and far between.

In 1993, we spent most of our time on the beaches of Palombaggia and Rondinara (amongst the best on the island) but last Sunday we visited for a short weekend near the centre. This time we stayed at the stylish and elegant Hotel Le Tilbury on Rue du Général LeClerc.

The ancient citadel (one of the ancient gates of Porto Vecchio is pictured right) was a big surprise. We took a gentle stroll round the walls of the haute ville. Although it was a Sunday evening in June the place was packed. It’s full of intriguing little streets with lots of boutiquey shops and a restaurant, it seemed, every five metres.

We chose the restaurant A Merendella in Rue Borgo. They offered set-price menu from as little as 17 euros – a price which included the fabulous views over the Port de Plaisance and the bay beyond.

The medieval haute ville was built by the Genoese in the 1530s to bolster their fortifications in the east. But it was a much smaller invader that got the better of them – the mosquito. A bit of history that I’m happy to say has now been lost to us.

A walk in the Balagne

2009-06-22T08:50:00.000-07:00

When we were here in March we discovered that we could walk from our apartment in Quartier Salduccio to the old chapel of St Peter and St Paul just south of Lumio (illustrated). Today, we decided to explore further and created our own 10km walk which I can recommend to you.

Turn left off the Balanina road just south of Lumio and go towards Quartier Salduccio. After the first crossroads, the little road turns very sharply left after a few hundred metres and comes to a halt altogether in another 100m. This is where the walk starts.

We followed the footpath that continues north along the same direction as the road through shady woodland. The path is well marked. In spring, the ground near the path can be a little damp and is covered in spring flowers and delicate pink orchids; in June the grass (and the path) is bone dry and everything is golden.

In about a quarter of an hour the track becomes a paved road again, and we enjoyed a welcome coffee from our flask on the wall of the little cemetery surrounding the ancient chapel of St Peter and St Paul – a building dating from the 11^th century.

After a welcome break we turned right towards the vineyard of Etienne Suzzoni’s Clos Columbu, which we reached in another 15 minutes. Here we enjoyed a glass of one of the best rosés in the Balagne (and weighed down our rucksacks by buying two bottles!) then returned the way we’d come along the lane back to the chapel.

On reaching the chapel we turned right, and where the road turns sharply left to rejoin the Balanina, we continued straight on along a track towards the village of Lumio. We had an excellent sandwich and some liquid refreshment at the Café a Mossa in Lumio, then retraced our path past the chapel and back to Salduccio.

The countryside is a riot of green and gold at this time of year. The bright green of the trees contrasts with the burnt gold of the dry grasses that line the paths. Butterflies of all imaginable hues, cheeky lizards, grasshoppers and tiny red and black beetles were talking points. Otherwise, all was quiet, sunny and peaceful - what a wonderful way to spend four hours on a warm and sunny day in the Balagne in June.

In praise of L’Ile Rousse

2009-06-21T14:09:00.000-07:00

L’Ile Rousse simply doesn’t convince as a Corsican Town. more in common with the French Riviera. artificiality. unbearably popular.

These are the unkind words that the Rough Guide to Corsica uses to describe one of my favourite Corsican towns. I profoundly disagree - and to prove it you can take a look at me enjoying a coffee in the town square with my wife Chris.

I will admit that L’Ile Rousse lacks city walls and does not have the same brooding presence that we find in Calvi, Bastia and Corte, with their massive citadels. With the exception of the granite masif on its rocky peninsula, it is pretty flat. And its sunny square, lined with plane trees and busy bars and restaurants, offers the visitor a charming rather than a historical prospect.

But history it has. Pascal Paoli, Corsica’s hero and one-time president, built L’Ile Rousse in the 1750s as a port to rival and outwit Calvi while the latter was still in Genoese hands. The Balagne was then (as now) a major producer of wine and olive oil and he needed to link it with its export markets. It’s interesting to note that Calvi’s arms bear the Latin words Semper Fidelis (always faithful). I wonder whether this powerful motto was a bit of Genoese PR drafted to oppose Paoli’s upstart town 20 km further north? A few years later Calvi’s Genoese protectors left for good, selling the island and Calvi with it, to France.

So I think of L’Ille Rousse (which by the way means “red-head island”) as Corsica’s first post-Genoese town. And with its proud links with Pascal Paoli, the town can think of itself as very Corsican indeed.

Corsica's orchids - from the city of escalators and fish porridge

2009-04-07T03:42:00.000-07:00

When we are in Corsica at this time of year I am always on the look-out for wild orchids.

I thought we would be too early this year as we landed in Corsica on 25th March and left on 30th. But how wrong I was - orchids like the one on the left were everywhere. This one was snapped on a brief coastal walk behind a beach in the Balagne - in the vicinity of Arinella and Giorgio beaches. We saw at least two other early species.

We saw a lot more today. I am presently in Singapore - a city that uses covered escalators to get you across the road and whose restaurants boast sliced fish porridge on their menus. A city where there are no longer any tigers but where Tiger Beer can cost about £7 for a small glass.

We are on our way to Australia to see our son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren and we decided to stop here for two days. Entry to the Singapore Botanic Gardens is free - and entry to the orchid garden contained within it is just one Singapore dollar for seniors like me. It's worth going to Singapore just to go there.

I'm suffering from orchid overload. There are thousands of different varieties here, ranging from exquisite to blowsy, from the gentlest pink to fiery orange. My least favourite was a thin purplish one bizarrely named after former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.

Ne fermez pas la porte

2009-03-31T06:26:00.000-07:00

That'll teach me for making jokes about draughts in Dutch theatres in Corsica Bullitinu. Renée Blom's inscription (see photo, right) of part of a poem by I Muvrini's Jean-Francois Bernardini ("Ne Fermez pas la porte" - "Don't shut the door") on the elegant glass doors of Amsterdam's Meervaart theatre prompted me to suggest that the lobby would be forever draughty.

Well, my words have come back to haunt me. We usually find something interesting when we get back to our little apartment in Lumio after an absence: sometimes we find a little lizard hiding under the doorframe or a bird's nest over the lamp on our terrasse. This time, on the chilly and overcast day of our arrival, we found that our front door had been cemented to the ground and couldn't be budged.

We'd arranged for some new tiles to be laid over the winter, and the folk doing the work had made the level of the front step a shade higher than before. As a result, the door had become totally stuck to the tiles thanks to some excess cement that had worked its way under the door.

We finally yanked it open. And with the help of the guys doing the work, we removed the door, shaved a centimetre or so off the bottom, painted it where the wood had beeen trimmed, and waited for the paint to dry for an hour.

Corsica does get cold in March and never mind not shutting the door - we were without one altogether while this was going on. It was freezing and we stayed in our coats. But I still empathise with Jean-Francois' sentiments about harmony between people and how better communication can improve it.

New plans for 2009

2009-03-08T14:11:00.000-07:00

It's time to stop dreaming about places like the one on the left (Lavezzi) and get on with planning our next visit. A letter from our copropriété arrived a day or two ago, enclosing the agenda for a meeting on 27th March, so over the past 48 hours I've been planning our next visit to Corsica whilst struggling to free myself from a horrid stomach virus.

The aero-landscape has been transformed since we left Calvi last autumn. Excel Airways has gone bust, the flights available from Thomsons have been cut back, and easyjet has opened a new route between Paris and Bastia. So, later this month, before the direct routes start for the summer, we'll be trying a new way of getting to our favourite island. I'm not sure if we'll manage to get any snorkelling done this time (March is still a bit cold even for me) but I expect we'll manage a couple of decent walks.

From our home near Southampton, we'll fly with Flybe to Paris's Charles de Gaulle airport, swap terminals there and fly onward to Bastia with Easyjet where we'll pick up our hire car. You can be sure I'll let you know how we get on, and if you want to look at a few options yourself, you can check them out here.

Usually at this time we fly to Nice or Pisa, then get a ferry to Calvi or Bastia. But as we'll be there for such a short time (just five days) we're flying all the way on this occasion. In years past, the problem with swapping planes at Paris has been that one needed to take the onward flight from Paris's other, more southerly airport, at Orly. It will be interesting to see how much time and stress we save by cutting out that uncertain inter-plane dash in the navette along Paris's infamous périférique.

A day in the life of a British Corsophile

2009-02-01T15:01:00.000-08:00

7.44. Wake up a bit late - and only now thanks to my wife's reminder that it's time to get up for my archery. Yes, I'm an archer and today it's a clout shoot. This is a strange sport in which we have to line up and shoot arrows at a flag 180 yards away. So I rush downstairs, grab my gear and zoom off to collect my pal David to drive down to Exbury in Southern Hampshire.

12.15. It is bitterly cold, and there's snow in the air. We are shooting against a head wind and I have to angle the bow something like 40 degrees to make the distance. Thank goodness for hand warmers. We've done 36 arrows and I have done OK (for me) but it's enough of the outdoors and we head back home for warmth and some lunch.

14.30. That feels much better! Time to check the email. Someone in St Malo wants to swap houses with our flat in Corsica in August... No chance. I have to tell him in my bad French that the place is already booked up. Someone else has written telling me he wants me to put a link to his hire car company on one of our websites. I'll think about it... Now it's time to read a bit more of Caroline Bithell's excellent book Transported by Song - Corsican Voices from Oral Tradition to World Stage. Yes, I'm a slow reader. I'm not an ethnomusicologist, but it's worth reading for the colour and the anecdotes alone. I listen to an old tape - Polyphonies, by Voce di Corsica, while I'm reading the relevant chapter.

19.45. Dinner, and time for a glass of Corsican wine! We keep a number of bottles of our favourites in the house and tonight we're having a bottle of Clos Colombu rosé, from Lumio in the Balagne. It's excellent, as always.

22.15. It's snowing again! Quite rare down here.

23.15. More emails - again on the subject of carhire. And it's time to check my web stats and update my blog. Now you're up to date.

Transported by Song

2009-01-19T03:39:00.000-08:00

I'm pleased and excited to have received through the post a copy of Caroline Bithell's new book Transported by Song - Corsican Voices from Oral Tradition to World Stage.

The author is a lecturer in ethnomusicology at the University of Manchester, and this is a meaty work. With 344 pages, and costing 27 GB pounds (Scarecrow Press) it's not the sort of book you'd flip through in an evening or take with you to read in the dentist's waiting room. What appeals to me about the book is that it looks at the phenomenon of Corsica's vibrant and unique musical scene and puts it in its historical, cultural and (perhaps most importantly) musical context.

I expect I will write more about its finer points when I've finished reading it. For now, I felt I had to share with you this short extract from the introduction, which transported me by words: Through my open window, I was serenaded by Canta u Populu Corsu, Alte Voce, A Filetta, Voce di Corsica and Canta again, their voices mingling with the more timeless sounds of the swallows circling over the ruined rooftops, the breeze in the trees, the children playing around the fountain and the older residents who, each evening, took their chairs into the street to observe and comment on life's affairs into the small hours." I'm back in Corsica.

I strongly believe that Corsica's music is one of the main contributions the island has to offer the rest of the world. How great to read a book - in English - about it! You can buy it from Corsicaholiday.com's books page.

Grand Piana

2009-01-02T05:08:00.000-08:00

I have just been listening to La Venexiana's recording of a selection of madrigals by Claudio Monteverdi. It's a live recording, which took place at the Estivoce Music Festival at Pigna (which I wrote about on 3rd June 2006), in the Balagne, in 2002.

But it's another Corsican village to which I'll be whisking you off today - the village of Piana on Corsica's rugged west coast (the picture on the left will show you just how rugged). Piana and Pigna vary in spelling by a single letter but they couldn't be more different. Both carry strong musical memories for me.

My first visit to Piana was a decade ago on our first complete trip round the island. We had just negotiated the frightening and beautiful west coast road between Calvi and Porto. Piana is separated from Porto by the impossibly spectacular Calanches de Piana, and on our first day there we rashly decided to take a short walk. Accustomed as we were to 10km strolls in the gentle and forgiving hills of England's Hampshire, the Calanches gave us a sharp lesson in geography - I think we managed about 2km in our inadequate foootwear.

We stayed in Piana for three days. On our last full day, there was a village festival with a mountain race (No, of course I didn't enter it!), mime artists, jugglers, magicians and all kinds of other exciting things culminating in a concert of Corsican traditional music in Piana's beautiful church of the Assumption.

I remember several things about that day. A large and friendly Alsatian succeeded in catching the magician's dove to everyone's consternation but was somehow persuaded to relinquish his prize with, apparently, no ill effects to the latter. The magician's assistant, a beautiful little white fairy of eight or nine years of age charmed us all. And the characters who had entertained us during the day had been allowed to use the church to store their costumes and props including a huge monocycle. While we awaited the (late as usual) musicians, this motley gang trooped into the church to retrieve their gear, much to the delight and amusement of the concertgoers. The concert that followed was my introduction to Corsican polyphony - I've been hooked ever since.

Not sure why this memory arrived in my brain today. Anyway - a very Happy New Year to you all, and I hope you'll be able to pay this lovely place a visit when warmer weather comes.