The ferry has been delayed from 8:00 to 14:30, time to kill, but I’m so tired from yesterday that I just want to rest. My flat is in this canal area, the little Venice of Livorno.Gosh, italian shops do open late, plenty of cafes open, but I want food to take home. Eventually find this market open and buy brioche and rolls and ground coffee for the little percolator.Stay in the flat packing and resting until chucking-out time, wander listlessly around, rest in a square with a shady seat, this little butterfly lands on me and doesn’t want to fly away. Then the ferry is delayed further, we don’t get going until 16:00, so we won’t arrive in Corsica until 21:00. Another late dinner coming up. (I am typing this now in my cabin, which I purchased at the last minute because I could’t face sitting in the bar for 5 hours. Best 30 Euros I’ve spent so far).
Get to Bastia at about 9:30, the hotel is next to the port luckily, find a restaurant – French Food – on which more later.
Next orning I set off asap because I have a long uphill day.
The traffic in Bastia! Dreadful, too many car and lorries, nt enough roads, the town is squeezed between the sea and the steep hillsides. I takes 5km to leave the terrible racket and dust and fumes behind. But now there are trading estates, new apartment blocks going up, a large high-security prison, more dust, dirt, litter, dry roads, articulated lorries.
But even out of town the road stays busy, the landscape feels hostile, hot, dry rocky outcrops, arid scrubby bushes.Half way to Ajuccio I spend the night at Corte, a bit of a centre for walkers. I eat at a restaurant in the main street, nice food, a couple of male singer/guitarists start to set-up their gear then practice for a few minutes, they sound great, close-harmony singing, local language songs. They are supposed to start the show at 9pm so I wait in expectation, but by 9:45 nothing is happening so I wander back to the hotel, too tired to wait-out a late night.A hard hot day through these arid hills, 1,400m of climbing, and 1,800 descent. To arrive at my apartment for two nights.And lovely french food, this dish is called “fraicheur d’ete” “Freshnedd of Summer” under the gimmicky hat are ripe fruits and tender vegetables all carefully prepared and presented.And this is the view from my table.
Itaian food is ok, especially if you like pig-meat and lots of calories. But French food, just over the border, transforms dining into elegance and art.
Even so, the next day I get some bread and cheese and salad and eat in the apartment, it’s cosy and restful and I can listen to the radio and watch a “Maigret” on Amazon.
Corsica is hot, dry, has terrible traffic jams at every main town, has too much constructon going on and although the sea looks clear and blue the beaches are gritty and smelly. I didn’t fancy a swim.
Now for an overnight ferry to Toulon and (hopefully) a couple of trains to get me to Orange, where I hope to spend a couple of days before heading to Paris, Dieppe, London.
