For Spring Break, Chandi, another American assistant, and I decided to go to Corsica to work on a farm with the WWOOFing program. WWoofing is when you go work on an organic farm, learning the ways of the trade, and the hours you work pay for your lodging. We wanted to farm because it would be a cool experience, where we'd learn about organic farming techniques, play with animals and learn tricks of the trade, and meet people. We chose a farm in Corsica because it would be a way for us to use French on the farm, but also a way to see an interesting and very different part of France. The farm we chose had a great website with beautiful pictures of a farm lodged in the mountains, complete with donkeys and sheep. We were looking forward to learning how to make cheese from sheep's milk, cleaning up after donkeys, and gardening, particularly strawberries. As most of my trips tend to be, this one became quite an adventure, probably the craziest one yet.
We left Tours on April 3 via train. We boarded a night train to Nice at 10pm, where we had reserved seats instead of the sleeping cars to save money. It wasn't uncomfortable, except it was a little bit cold. Little did we know that we'd be spending very cold nights for most of our trip. But there I am getting a bit ahead of myself. It was the beginning of the trip and we were full of excitement to see Corsica and the expected beautiful weather. However, we got to Nice around 8 the next morning, and it was cold and rainy. We wouldn't let that get us down, especially considering it was my birthday. Despite it being Easter, much was open. We went to the market near the sea (if you recall I spoke about this market in a blog entry when my mom came to visit). We bought gifts for the woman we would be staying with when we arrived in Corsica and ate Socca, a presumed Niçois speciality made out of chick peas. We then sat at the port waiting until we could board the ferry. The Ferry was more like a cruise ship, many levels, fancy cafes, and a pool (which of course was not open). On the ferry we met 5 American guys who were headed to Corsica to go kayaking. Two of the guys were medical students in Washington, one was a kayaking/white water rafting instructor also in Washington, one was a PhD student studying thermal energy in Iceland, and the other was self proclaimed jobless. They were fun guys, though they had clearly come to Corsica ready to party (apparently after kayaking they ended up back in Bastia and got into a bar fight and one ended up in the hospital... )
We got to Bastia in the evening. We had opted to try out Couchsurfing, a increasingly popular way to travel. Essentially you stay at someone's house for the night, free of charge, in exchange for friendship and good discussion. Fabienne, an English teacher in a high school in Bastia, was more than welcoming. Her roommate Matthieu was really cool and nice too and we had really good chats the two nights we stayed there. As first time couchsurfers, we weren't sure how it would work, but it was really great; we got to meet people living in Corsica and had a warm place to stay. However, Fabienne and friends were skeptical when we told them about our WWoofing plans. I guess we should have listened....
April 5: We woke up to SUN!! Just what we were looking for. It was even warm enough to just wear a t-shirt. A great start to our vacay. We hit all the interesting parts of Bastia, the statue of Napoleon dressed up in Roman emperor garb, the old port, the new port, the citadel. We tried to get into this church that reportedly had a black Jesus statue, but it was closed. We sat out on the beach, though it was a bit rocky. We had lunch with Fabienne and a friend of her's on the old port. Bastia was very meditereanean in feel, with brightly painted buildings facing the sparkling sea. We knew we had made the right choice coming here.
April 6: We woke up early to find the bus towards Aleria where we would be meeting the farmers. Of course we couldn't find the bus stop, but luckily (or unluckily) the bus, like a lot of transport in Corsica as we were soon to find out, was running late. We rode for about an hour to a place called Moriani plage. We got off the bus, and there was a guy waiting. He asked us if we were the girls going to the farm. We said yes. He mumbled something we didn't understand and then walked away. So we followed him to a cafe. We figured we didn't understand him because he must of had a Corsican accent. He said we had to wait for his father at the cafe. We tried to talk to him, but it was hard because most of the time we couldn't understand him and sometimes it seemed like he was talking to himself. We were a little uncomfortable, but attributed it to the fact that people in Corsica must have a particular way of speaking, or something. We learned his name was Salem and that he was certified to ride horses. That of course excited us; maybe there'd be horses on the farm, yessss! Finally, the father, Sylvain, arrived.
He was what one could say your standard hippie type: long pony tail, funky colored, home-made looking clothes, and talked about free love, anti-capitalism, the fact that he and his friends share everything, they don't discriminate against race, gender, sexual orientation, religion. He's a former philosophy professor and often spoke in circles. On the way to the farm we stopped at a artisinal chestnut butter shop. He paid almost fifty euros for a bucket of the butter. We found that a bit odd, considering the man had just told us he was living off the land and had not a cent in his pocket, but we didn't ask any questions. He then took us to the shopping center, where he told us to "get some groceries." We didn't know if we were supposed to buy groceries for the farm, we didn't know how many people to buy the groceries for, and we didn't know how much to get. Also, we didn't know if he was just assuming we were going to pay. Salem, the son, went with us, but he kinda abandoned us in the vegetable section. We knew that Sylvain was vegan, so we bought some vegetables, and Salem eventually joined us and threw some toilet paper, milk, and cheese into the bag. Then he left. We stood near the check-out line, confused. We even thought perhaps Sylvain had left us. Then, after probably ten minutes of waiting, he got there. He didn't offer to pay. We stood awkwardly and then we said we'd pay, since we had said we'd give some money for food anyway. Still, the situation was strange.
And so that's how it started....
Now, I am not going to lay out every tiny detail, cause that will probably be boring for you. But in short, the farm was a wreck, hadn't been touched in who knows how long. There were no animals, at all. Sylvain, the so-called hermit, went into town all the time with his Corsican rebel friends (who liked to throw poop at buildings). Turns out the son was schizophrenic and seriously scared the bejeezus out of Chandi and I. So after four days, we decided it was best to leave. The farm was located on a beautiful area, with mountains around us and the sea in the distance. Our bungalow faced the sunrise, so we got this beauty to see every morning. Working in the garden was relaxing and felt fulfilling (even though we got yelled at for "incorrectly" doing everything because Sylvain wanted the seeds to go where they wanted to go, to be free). We met Bernard and Beatrice, two lovely people, together we would make lunch and dinner which were always filled with great discussion. We also met Luc, a gendarme (millitary police) who took us to Porto Vecchio and the beach and to a hot springs location. So in short, though the situation on the farm was awkward and certainly not what we wanted, it had its upsides. (of course, if you want the nitty gritty, don't hesitate to just ask me)
April 10: We headed to town and hitch hiked to Corte, where we knew we would be able to catch a train. Our plan: see as much of corsica as possible in the 7 or so remaining days. Corte is right in the middle of Corsica, and very mountainous. It was my favorite city. It had a very medieval feel to it, and there was a giant citadel right in the middle. We also visited the anthropology museum of Corsica here and tried our first Corsican beer (made from chestnut flour). We had hot wonderful weather, a change from the rainy cold days we mostly experienced on the farm. We ate real corsican cuisine, which was totally Italian meets French, with pastas and tomato sauces, but still delicious. We pitched a tent in a campground and figured that with such a hot lovely day, we wouldn't have any problems being cold (we froze our butts off every night on the farm). Boy were we wrong; it was sooo cold!
April 11: We took a train from Corte to Ponte Leccia and then a bus to Calvi. Calvi is on the western coast and everyone told us it was a must-see. However, the weather was horrible, cold and rainy. Additionally, we learned quickly in Corsica that it is not a pedestrian friendly island, meaning if you don't have a car, you are SOL. We found a cheap place to stay in the guide book, but it was a good 4 or 5km outside of the city and uphill (and we had a lot of luggage, a tent included) but we decided to stay there because it would at least be a warm place (with electricity!) Since the weather was not great, we spent most of the day in a cafe playing cards and talking. At the hostel we met some Scottish boys, one of which was also an assistant like us, and a mom and son (the son was 6 and sick the whole time). We ate dinner at the hostel, and sat around playing cards with the Scots and a really nice French couple. It was nice. and we slept very well in warm comfy beds.
April 12: the weather was slightly better in Calvi, so we set out to explore the city. It was small, but had beautiful views of the Meditereanean. There is also the supposed Christopher Columbus house (We know that he was from Genoa, and I think the Corsicans figure that since Corsica was at one point a Genoan colony, they can claim Chris C as their own.)
April 13: We left Calvi to take a bus to Ile Rousse, a city north of Calvi. It was cold, as always, so after exploring the city on foot and checking out the market with its assortment of sheep and goat cheese and sausages, we retired to a cafe on the port to play cards. In the late afternoon, we went to watch the old men play petanque, a French game that involves throwing a small ball and attempting to get larger heavier balls as close to the small ball as possible. It was funny, we picked players we thought were going to win and rooted for them (secretly of course). We then ate seafood at the main square and slept in a low budget hotel.
April 14: We headed to Ajaccio, the largest city in Corsica. We were going to camp, but considering the cold nights we had experienced and the fact that the campsite was far from the city, we decided to try and find other lodging. All the hotels were booked, so we ended up staying in a "bed and breakfast" i.e. in this old lady's house. Now Ajaccio is very important to French history; Napoleon, everyone's favorite emperor, was born there. We went to the Bonaparte house, where a very informed security guard gave us a complete history of Napoleon's family, his social climbing father (who put Napoleon in millitary school and then sent him to France, where obviously he rose to become leader of the most powerful nation at the time). Corsica itself has a very interesting history, of being taken over by various people, the Genoans, the French, the British at one point, and also has a history of various failed rebellions and independence struggles. And rich families like the Bonapartes. And they still have rebels/revolutionaires, as can be evidenced by the signs with bullet holes or the spray painted street signs that mark out the French spelling of cities or have the Corsican way of spelling written over the French. But all in all, I don't know how much the Corsicans actually want to be independant, they seem to enjoy the benefits of being part of France.
April 15: Strolled around Ajaccio before catching a bus to Bonifacio, in the south of Corsica. Bonifacio was a big change from the other cities we had seen in Corsica; giant cliffs surround the port and the city is up on these cliffs. It was beautiful; the water was green and sparkly. We were really impressed. We visited the city for the few hours of sunlight that was left, then we camped (no choice), so of course it was cold and uncomfy.
April 16: Started off as our "last day" in Corsica, or so we thought. Julien had called on the 15th, talking about some volcano eruption that was causing havoc at airports. I told him, Julien there are no volcanoes in France, and seriously thought he was playing a joke on us. Boy, was I wrong. all over the news was this volcano in Iceland that had erupted and sent a giant ash cloud to cover Europe, thus closing numerous airports and cancelling thousands of flights. We thought, well, we are to the south, we shouldn't have any problems, right? So we went about our tour of Bonifacio, hiking along the cliffs, going down this really steep staircase to see the cliffs from the bottom up. We had good weather, so we spent a lot of time walking around checking out the cliffs and such. Figuring it was our last night, we went out to dinner at a restaurant and had good seafood, although Chandi wasn't feeling very well. We get to the campsite, settle down for a cold night's sleep, and get a text message from Air France: your flight has been cancelled. Whoohoo.
April 17: We head to an internet cafe to try and figure out how we are going to get back to France. Possible trajectories: take a boat to Sardinia (we were very close to Sardinia), then another boat to Italy, then a train from Italy back to France (too expensive). Take a bus back to Ajaccio (four hours) then a boat to France (nine hours) and then a train home. Oh but what do you know? The trains were on strike in France for the entire spring break, so we weren't even certain that upon arriving in France, there would even be a train for us to take! But we opted for this option, we could have stayed in Bonifacio and waited out this ash cloud, but looking back, that wouldn't have been a good decision (flights didn't resume for a week!) SO we left Bonifacio, went to Porto Vecchio where we waited an hour for a bus, then back to Ajaccio, where we waited three hours for the boat to leave. We then boarded the extremely crowded ferry (lots of people in our predicament) and slept in the cafe (good thing we had sleeping bags, and although there were constantly bright lights, it was at least warm and there were proper toilets). Got to Toulon in the south of France around 8, walked briskly, in a large crowd, to the train station to see if there were any trains. Miracously got on a TGV train to Paris, walked through Paris to another train station, and finally, late in the afternoon (26 hours later) finally got home. What an ordeal, but I guess I shouldn't complain, considering there were people stranded for a week across the atlantic. But hey it was certainly an adventure!
So What can I say about Corsica?
Positives:
- people were extremely friendly and welcoming. Everywhere we went people started conversations with us and were surprised to see two young American girls touring their island. This goes completely against what most French people told us about Corsicans, saying they were cold and mean. I think they are just mean to unfriendly tourists during tourist season, and since we were nice, clearly poor, and young, they liked us.
- They had funny accents. They also gesticulated a lot, which reminded me of Italians. I don't speak Italian, but I'd say that Corsican sounded a lot like a mix of French and Italian.
- Good food.
- Interesting landscapes: cliffs in Bonifacio, beaches with snow-capped mountains in the distance, mountain villages.
- Public transportation unreliable and inefficient (why does it make sense to go north and east to go west?)
- Without a car it is difficult to access the least expensive lodgings, like campgrounds.
- The weather. Cold at night and most of the time during the day. It was also not always sunny (we were expecting an island vacation, sun and heat! we were disappointed)
- And of course, the ash cloud and the farming experience, but those weren't Corsica's fault.
Vive la Corse!!
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