|home > Corsica (days 1 - 4)
|At the beginning of
September, Rebecca and I went on holiday to Corsica. We had the most fantastic
time, and got up to all sorts, the decent ones of which I document here.
Included in my narrative are the various quotes of the day. No explanations
will be provided as I like to leave things to your imagination. Suffice it to
say the more innocuous they seem, the worse they are.
- "Tooting this ain't", "The steering's a bit loose!".
left her drivers license behind, and soon proved to be an awful passenger on
the winding coast roads - it seems the Corsicans don't believe in crash
barriers on cliffs. R kept begging me to drive more slowly. I was more than
happy to comply when we went past Camp Rafelli - the home of the parachute
regiment of the French Foreign Legion.This is the view from the rear of our
appartment in Calvi, as the sun set on our first day. It really felt like
something out of Bonanza.
- "Which bars do the legionnaires drink in?", "Facile Tigre",
"Le coup d'oral".
Visited our first beach, and swam in the warm
mediterranean sea... bliss! Mooched into Calvi in the afternoon, which is where
this picture is taken. In the evening we discovered "Au Son des Guitares" the
legionnaire bar that was to become our second home. The bar had a buy one get
one free offer before 10.30pm, and you don't have to ask us twice! We thought
we were in paradise, and that's before the legionnaires walked
- "Le Ow!", "Damn, I'm peeling".
We didn't get in until 6am,
and that's only thanks to the Legionnaires, who gave us a lift back to the
hotel. Thanks boys! We were completely non compis mentis that day, and only
just made it to Calenzana, and getting back to the bar was a bit of a struggle
as well. We were heartened to notice that the staff had already poured our
drinks when we walked in. This is a picture of Rebecca, with the lovely
Roberto. We saw a lot of him that week, and I'm not talking frequency
- "I'm a slut trapped in a virgin's body".
Finally made it to Le
Fango, the trip having been cancelled owing to preceeding days hangover (guelle
du bois, for those who wish to be educated). It was a beautiful river, with
swimming holes, and fat, naked Germans. Bit bloody cold though, so we didn't
test it out.
||This is the
coastal road on the way back to Calvi - this is when I started to realise the
enormity of Rebecca's phobia, as she gasped, and yelped at every corner. It was
starting to get a tad boring....
|This is the
view over Calvi, from Notre Dame de la Serra - a church perched high on the
mountain top. I think there is a connection with Napoleon, but we were
distracted by the pompiers when it was explained to us. If anyone knows the
significance, please let us know!
- , "Oh shit, I'm going to die", "Promise me you won't go any
faster than first gear", "Shut the f*ck up, or you're going in the
boot!", "I wish to see the moment of my death", "I'm sure this is
goats' dick", "La Fée du Joie", "Zut,
a-f*cking-lors!", "Avez-vous Le Disco Inferno?".
No more room for
explanations but, suffice it to say, that is me on the left - climbing up Mount
|We got up at
7am to drive to the Gorge de la Restonica. We had been told the road through
the Gorge was slightly hairy, but it seems the Corsicans are more adept at
understatement than the British. We were presented with a 16km road, which
wound up a mountain, with only enough room for one car to pass. Imagine our
suprise when we came across 4 off-road vehicles coming the other way and we had
to reverse down the mountain and perch the car on a 6 inch verge, next to a
150ft sheer drop, so that they could pass. I can still hear the screams
eminating from Rebecca when I shut my eyes at night. If her body weight hadn't
have been helping us stay on the road, I would have thrown her out of the
eventually made it to the base camp and proceeded to climb to 1711 metres,
where Lac d'Orient could be found. We took the "facile" route. If that was
"facile" I will mange my bloody chapeau. Thank god we didn't opt for "Route
Sportif", which was an option for at least a second.
|This is us,
having made it to the top. Well OK, not actually the top, as that would
have meant walking for another hour to the second lake - we figured if you've
seen one lake, you've seen 'em all. Anyway, we had forgotten to eat breakfast.
We did stop off at a shepherd's hut on the way back down and indulged in
something that could loosely be described as "nourishment".
||The only real
way to shake the dust from our bodies was the application of booze internally.
Once again we trooped down to Au Son des Guitares, for a spot of Le Boogey. We
do have some terribly incriminating pictures of Les Legionnaires Etrangere, but
putting them up here would get them in far too much trouble with the regiment.