I think a cow in a skirt could well be considered to be surreal and therefore makes a suitable candidate for this weeks PhotoFriday challenge. This image was taken in Paris.
Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Fuzzy.” I’m entry 179.
This weeks PhotoFriday theme is “Art” and it looks as though most entries so far have been going for images “traditional” art or arty photographs. I thought I’d go a slightly different route, with a picture of some graffiti in Lille, France. I like the contrast between the usual, boring “I was here” graffiti and the figure in the bottom right.
Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Infinity.” I’m entry number 133.
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.)
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.
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.
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!
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.
The plan today is to get to Corte. There are two trains a day, which effectively means that I have to choose between sightseeing in Ajaccio or Corte — with daylight hours fading fairly early there would be no time to do both. Since I’m back in Ajaccio on Friday evening I decide to take the early train.
A 6.30 alarm call on a Saturday comes as a shock to the system.
The train leaves on schedule and, in its two-hour journey time, takes me through some spectacular scenery. A local who introduced himself as I got on the train, clearly used to the views and the journey, seemed bemused by my constant picture taking. “Did you see an animal?” “No, just the view, the mountains.” “Oh.”
Corte is very hilly as I find when I try to carry my bags to the hotel. The hills give it a dramatic setting. As the day passes I see the clouds descend, obscuring the top of the hills, and rain threatens to fall.
Before this I wander around town. The yellow buildings against the bright blue sky looks like Tuscany or the south of France, the flaking paint, which at home you’d consider bad maintenance, here looks quaint. The main street, Cours Paoli, has the usual selection of shops, including a baker, tobacconist and sellers of tourist merchandise. One unusual piece was the tee shirt with Che Guevara and the word Corsica emblazoned beneath. I wasn’t aware that he’d made it here?
Mingled amongst the souvenirs and pastries were many caf?s, one after the other. They all look pretty much the same! That is to say, pretty good. I stop at one in Place Paoli for a panini and cappuccino.
(A quick aside: Paoli is the father of Corsican independence, having established Corte as its capital city.)
I visit the Citadel, home to the Museum of Corsica. The museum is large and modern, complete with audio tour, replicas of any object they don’t have to hand and videos. The content is less impressive than the execution. Sure, it’s supposed to be more about anthropology than history but still, telling us how people used to live less than a hundred years ago hardly needs much of an imagination.
The views from the citadel are worth the entrance fee however. It’s possible to see over the whole town and much of the valley.
The stunning views will be paid in sweat rather than Euros for most of the rest of the week as the walking starts tomorrow.
As I fly over it, I note the vivid blue-green colour of the water as it glistens in the midday sun. This is not the Mediterranean as I approach Corsica but the English Channel shortly after leaving from London City airport. It’s amazing how the sun enhances even the most seemingly mundane scenes.
It’s three hours and a change of plane in Paris before I see Corsica for real. In fact it was cloudy and only visible for the last few minutes of the descent. First impressions: very hilly, mountainous even. The cream houses scattered near the coast are attractive and give the impression of a place that is in the south of France or Tuscany.
As I walk much of the Mare a Mare Nord path I discover that it has a character of its own. Starting near the Corsican capital, Ajoccio, I take the train up to Corte and walk much of the route over to the west coast at Porto. For an island of its size, Corsica’s landscape is amazingly varied and beautiful.
The full story is available in the following thrilling instalments:
Please visit regularly for more travel pictures and commentary, or better yet, subscribe to my RSS feed!
This weeks PhotoFriday theme is “Vacation.” Here is my entry. When most people think of ‘vacation’ they think of a beach holiday. This image is of Menton in France.
Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge. I’m entry number 91.