Tag Archives: food

A Lot of Bottle

On our recent trip to Tuscany, B bought a cheap local bottle of wine not because of the wine itself — we’ve not dared taste it yet — but because the bottle was pretty. It’s been sat on the dining room table since then, gathering dust.

Last weekend I decided to take a few pictures of it. It’s not my normal kind of photography but the results were fairly respectable I think.

Neither shot is as sharp as I would have liked. I am not sure whether this is my camera technique, softness of the lens or poor focusing. I liked this view because the fuzziness, if anything, enhanced it.

Both were taken on my Canon EOS300D with my very much under-used Sigma 70-300mm. The camera was resting on the table and I used the self-timer to help reduce shake. The white back-ground is actually my living room window.

Corsica: Back to Ajaccio

Today really marks the beginning of the end as I return to Ajaccio in preparation for the flight home tomorrow. It’s kind of odd not to have to get up early in order to cram in five hours walking, but, given this is a holiday, it?s also rather welcome. (Well, I could have gone for the early bus to the capital, but I decided to relax in laid-back Porto instead.)

Genoese fort, Porto, Corsica

The curse of the low season strikes again, as the tower is closed at ten in the morning despite the sign saying that it opens at nine. I am told it actually opens at eleven, but at five past the gates are still chained shut.

I head for a coffee in one of the few open cafes. While I wait, the tower opens. Indeed, now the sign says it opens at eleven.

First stop on the way up is a small museum. It starts with a bible passage and heads downhill from there. It?s difficult to tell exactly what it?s for. It?s not exactly about Porto, it’s not all religious or historical. I guess it adds value-for-money to the entrance fee for the tower. Inside the tower is nearly as disappointing — and also only in French — but, fortunately, the same cannot be said of the view from the roof.

View over Porto from the Genoese fort, Corsica

The stop for the bus back to Ajaccio is in some doubt. The tour notes say not to believe the tourist office but it seems slightly implausible that it should leave thirty minutes walk up-hill away from the town centre. Implausible or not, it’s true and I leave Porto with the rumble of my wheely-luggage. Once on the bus, the trip is surprisingly quick and efficient. The roads start very narrow, with magnificent views over the coast and horrifying drops to the same. Once past Piana the roads remain twisty and narrow but are less likely to induce travel sickness.

Ajaccio seems very different on my return. Somehow smaller, but familiar and busy. I’ve spent most of the week seeing almost no one else, just the odd walker and a regular at a hotel bar. Seeing cars zipping in and out of traffic is a shock.

I take a quick wander around before heading back to the airport. On the first night it seemed large and alien. Today it seemed much smaller and more manageable.

Ajaccio harbour

I took Cours Napoleon as far as the beach, took a detour via the the Citadel, which was much more closed than that in Corte. Still a military base, the place is surrounded by barbed wire fences. Nearby is the restaurant I ate at on my first night here — that seemed miles away at the time!

Ajaccio street

I meander back up to the main shopping street, Rue Cardinal Fesch, which at this time on a Saturday is still largely closed. I had hoped to bring back a little something but ended having to go into a super market for a bottle of local wine — not exactly what I’d been planning. (Typically I picked the only bottle in the whole store that would not scan. My French wasn’t really up to the ensuing conversation so I just nodded and smiled until they took some money.)

Overall it was a fairly relaxing end to a great walking holiday. Some of the hikes had pushed my abilities but, ultimately, that’s a good thing. Even at the time where I was totally exhausted, the magnificent sights of the country never let me down. The food and hospitality were a bonus, and I loved the fact that Corsica is not just an extension of France. Despite the links, it truly has its own identity. It’s surprises like this keep me travelling.

Corsica: Col di Vergio to Evisa

I “cheat” on the walk from Calalucca, starting a taxi ride away. The basic idea of the tour so far has been to do the Mare a Mare Nord starting from Sermano heading towards to Porto. My walk up to Lac de Nino meant that I skipped one part.

Bikers near Calalucca

As it turns out, I find the walk easy, at least in comparison with the last couple of days. I arrive at the hotel mid-afternoon and just mellow out until dinner. This is easy to do as the location is great, looking down the valley and over the hotel pool.

Evisa

The proprietor is described in the walking notes as “a character” and he proves to be just that. He confuses my by describing the steak as “international” and the chestnut mousse as “Corsican.” But there’s no confusion over the quality of the food once it arrives.

Evisa

It’s a lovely place and I can’t help but look forward to the next day. The guide book describes it as the best walk and the tour notes say that tomorrow is the best hotel.

So long…

Cornelius Maximus Wilmington the 4th
Cornelius Maximus Wilmington the 4th

This morning a member of the Darlington household passed away quietly in his sleep. Cornelius Maximus Willmington IV was less than a year old. He is survived by our other goldfish, Bob.

Cornelius was never the brightest fish in the bowl, and it’s not like he was up against stiff competition. He often did “Jaws” impressions, his fin breaching the surface of the bowl but terrorising few, and had a tendency to try to eat bubbles rather than the food we fed them every day.

But he was never a well fish. To our surprise, his buoyancy problem is a well known condition. We tried to feed him green peas — the rather odd sounding solution — but Bob would normally get to them first, even if it required pushing Cornelius out of the way and swallowing half a pea at a time.

He’ll be missed. As B said, “Swim off to better places, little dude .”