Lounging in Lille

Lille, where I have been staying since leaving Brussels on Tuesday night, is part of a fairly large metropolitan area in the north of France.  The city is much smaller than Paris though, without major sights or a large metro system.  Lille feels more like a university town, which it is, and it has a very cute downtown area, with several large public squares and winding cobblestone paths that make up vieux Lille, the oldest part of town, with pricey shops and cafes.

a view of downtown Lille

The last few days have consisted largely of shopping and meandering in downtown Lille, where I am staying with my friend Lise.  Yesterday we went to the Lille marketplace, an overwhelming hubbub of vendors selling fruits, vegetables, roasted chickens, spices, and so on, where we made off with a large bag of groceries for less than 5 euros.  Tonight and tomorrow night I am going with Lise and her boyfriend to a music festival called Les Nuits Secretes, which is about 50 minutes away.  I’m not entirely sure what to expect so I’ll be sure to update when it’s over.

In other news, my final Bonjour Paris articles are up on the website:
Paris on the Cheap
Corsican Adventure
Corte and Vizzavona
Once again, only the introduction is available for free for most of these articles, so just let me know if you’re interested in finding out more.  The Corsica articles are a three part series, so the third and final article will probably be up on the site in the next few weeks.

And Finally…Some Photos!

At last…what you’ve all been waiting for…some more photos!  I’m finally done uploading all of the albums from my trip to Corsica and Sardinia, so enjoy!

Nice and Bastia

Corte and Vizzavona

Ajaccio and Bonifacio

Sardinia: Santa Teresa, Nuoro, Cagliari

Paris photos will be coming in gradually over the next week, just click the photos link at the top to see when I’ve added more, or go straight to the shutterfly main page.

Île de la Beauté

Goodbye Corsica. I must say I wasn’t all that sad to leave…I had to take a bus from Ajaccio to Bonifacio and for 2 of the 3 hours in transit I was clutching the seat trying desperately not to vomit. The road violently changed directions about every 100 meters as we careened up and down, back and forth, through the Corsican mountains, hugging tiny roads overlooking the ocean. The views were gorgeous, I know, but I barely noticed them in my condition.

 

 

I made it, shaken, but sickness-free to Bonifacio at last, and caught the last ferry to Santa Teresa di Gallura in Sardinia, only about 12 km away. Bonifacio is a beautiful city, right on the ocean with white cliffs, but I’ll have to come back to explore it another time. The ferry ride this time was more like I had expected, seats on the windy deck, violent rocking of the boat, and the smell of sheep from the cargo hold wafting up on deck. But it was only an hour’s ride, and with the sun-setting over the Mediterranean, a scenic one.

leaving Bonifacio, Corsica

It’s been amusing that all of the other tourists here seem to be European. After being one of zillions of American tourists in places like Paris, where they recognize an American accent and roll their eyes right away, it’s quite refreshing to be (seemingly) the only one. In Corsica, it’s the French (and the Germans, British, and Italians) who are walking around wearing sneakers and fanny packs and taking cheesy photos.

Ajaccio: chez Napoleon

Ajaccio, my final stop in Corsica, was a big change from my calm night in the country.  It’s Corsica’s capital and biggest city, and with a port and white sand beaches, it feels a lot more like a typical resort town than the other places I’ve been so far.  Still, I managed to find the most charming place to stay: Pensione de la famille Morelli.  Tina Morelli has been running a small B&B from her home since 1960, and welcomed me herself at the door when I arrived on Sunday afternoon.  And it was the best place to cure the lonliness of traveling solo: I stayed in the living room-turned guest room that was filled with photo albums and trinkets, and got to have a family style dinner with the other guests at night. 

Sanguinary Islands

And though I was staying only one day in Ajaccio, there was lots to do!  I took another petit train to the nearby Sanguinary Islands, where there is an old lookout tower, and of course visited the birthplace of Ajaccio’s most famous son–Napoleon Bonaparte…whose statues and namesake are scattered throughout the city.  A lock of his hair is even preserved in a pendant at the house.

Napoleon overlooking his hometown

My first night happened to be the fete de la musique in Ajaccio and there were all sorts of musical groups performing in the streets after dark, from a gospel choir, to African drummers, to rock bands and Spanish guitarists playing the Beatles.  The next morning I had an important tour/interview at the privately-owned Corsican history museum in town and then was onmy way out of town to Bonifacio, the white-cliffed town on the southern tip of the island where ferries connect Corsica to Sardinia.

Adventures in Cheese, Part 1

I like cheese a lot. I like trying new cheeses. I like most of the Corsican cheeses (all made from goat or sheep milk…they don’t seem to really do the cow thing here) that I’ve tried. But tonight at dinner I discovered that my cheese was alive.

I was really enjoying the brebis (sheep’s cheese), a hard, crumbly tangy cheese, included in the cheese course after my dinner this evening. Enjoying it so much that I decided to look more closely at it, and noticed little specks. Moving specks. As I examined it, I realized that these little mites were ALL over the piece of cheese. Agggh.

I had read about rotten cheese with mites being intentional on some of the islands, supposedly to give it a creamier texture. I’m not sure if this was what that was, or if it’s just something that happens but no one here cares.

However, I had just sliced these big pieces of cheese, and finished having a conversation with the nice old woman serving them about how good Corsican cheese was. So I couldn’t just leave it all on my plate uneaten with her watching and beaming with pride that a foreigner liked the cheese of her home country. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it after scraping off the sides.  Mmm delish.

Vizzavona

And so I make my first detour. My original plan had been to leave Corte and spend two nights in Ajaccio, the modern capital of Corsica. Unfortunately, I didn’t take the warnings in my guidebook to reserve rooms early very seriously, and discovered that I was only able to get a room in Ajaccio on Sunday, unless I wanted to spend over 200 euros for Saturday night…which I didn’t, so I found a guesthouse in a town that lies between Corte and Ajaccio on the train line (there are only 2 train lines on the whole island, so there aren’t a whole lot of transportation options for those without cars) and reserved it for Saturday night. And thus I ended up in Vizzavona. The town wasn’t in my guidebook and a brief search online brought up “a town in Corsica” (thanks a lot, Wikitravel), so I wasn’t sure what to expect.

I called the hotel again to tell them what time I was arriving and asked for directions. They seemed confused and didn’t give me any. How about an address? There is no address, the guy laughed. It’s I Laricci (the name of the house). And as I got off the train, I realized why he was so amused. Two restaurants flanked the train station, and behind the station on a hill, I Laricci. And that’s the town of Vizzavona. So I get an unplanned break from sightseeing and research. I’m staying in a dorm style hostel room in a large guest complex, surrounded by mountains, and roses, and silence, except for the birds and the sounds of the old French hikers who are sharing the guest house washing their boots. This town is just off the trail of GR20, which is supposed to be sort of like the Corsican Appalachian trail (although much shorter than the US trail, it only takes 2 weeks to complete), and quite difficult, so basically the only other people in town are hoards of old retirees who have just come off the trail.

mountains--view from the backyard

The guesthouse is a lovely a relaxing place, a big red-shuttered building in the midst of the Vizzavona forest. Looking out from the dormitory (the cheaper bunk-style rooms behind the main inn, where I’m staying), I can see a mountain that still has some patches of snow, and several minute waterfalls from the melting snow. I took a short walk in the nearby woods during the afternoon of my stay, something easy enough for my footwear, which is only sandals, since I didn’t anticipate leaving the beaten path. A full three-course dinner was also included with the price of the bed, so I went to bed with a very full stomach after my relaxing day in the country.

guesthouse, I Laricci

Corte

Corsica had a modern constitution before the US or France did. In the mid 1700’s, Corsica was it’s own nation, with Pascale Paoli as its leader. Sadly for the young Corsican nation, it didn’t last, and the island has been French ever since. But you wouldn’t know it in Corte (population 6000, and 10000 when university is in session), the former capital of the Corsican nation, where I spent 2 nights.  Everything is named after Paoli here: the university, the main boulevard, the downtown square. And Corsican nationalist graffiti is everywhere, things like “Corsica libera,” “Liberta a u nostru patriotti” (as you can see, the Corsican language looks a lot like Italian), and even some insulting remarks toward the French president Sarkozy (and depictions of his gravestone). I have yet to get the whole story, but it’s obvious that Corte is the seat of Corsican nationalism. Or as some Parisians I met in Bastia told me, “Corte is the Texas of Corsica.” I’m not sure if the analogy fits entirely, but it is true that the people of Corte seem very proud of their identity. And no wonder…it’s a beautiful town, off the coast, and in the heart of the island. Corte is surrounded by jagged mountains (it’s like an entirely different landscape from the Mediterranean coast of a few days ago), some still with snow on the peaks, and deep valleys. It’s a great place for the outdoorsy apparently: hiking, canyoning, camping, etc. Unfortunately, I have other things to do.

 

the citadel of Corte

…like learn about Corsican culture at the Musee de la Corse, the only museum dedicated to Corsican ethnography. (oh right, this is where the research comes in). I spent awhile in this museum taking notes and hopefully got some good information. Attached to the museum is the citadel (the only inland citadel on the island), which is sort of the icon of the city, and I got a great view of the surrounding countryside from the top. There was also a dungeon, fitted with a stone bed and pillow for the prisoners. How thoughtful.

Other highlights in Corte were the belvedere, another lookout tower, several quaint churches, and the haut ville, the old part of the town paved over in cobblestones and up a hill. I took the petit train tour of the town, on a little motored train that winds around the bumpy roads, offering a brief explanation of some of the town’s landmarks.

the petit train tour

U Tianu

I’ve learned to swear by the Let’s Go guides while traveling: they are usually well written, concise but thorough, and serve my purposes perfectly (ie getting the most out of a place without breaking the bank). I’m still trying to to come to terms with the fact that they are all written by Harvard students.

So on my first night in Bastia, I decided to check out a restaurant called U Tiano, which came highly recommended by my guide.  It apparently specialized in traditional Corsican dishes.  In the name of research, of course, I figured I should go. 

The walls of the upstairs restaurant were plastered with all things Corse (well except for Che Guerrera who made it in there somehow),  from old magazine covers, and separatist posters to a clock shaped like the island.  I turned out not to be the only one eating alone, although I assumed at first that the man sitting in the corner was waiting for someone else, since he had a pitcher of wine and three plates on his table. Was I ever wrong…

There was no actual menu a U Tianu–instead there was a menu in the French sense of the word, which means for the set price of 23 euros I get my choice of one thing was a few options in each category (ie one appetizer, one entrée).  

 

appetizers and wine

The first step was the aperitivo, a pre-dinner drink. I chose the cap corse, which my waiter explained was somewhere between a martini and porto. He also brought me a pitcher of water…a cold one! (highly unusual in Europe)…thankfully. Next was the appetizer, which is misleadingly called the entrée in French (actually it’s we English speakers who misuse their word).  The appetizer spread included a bread basket, an oily and tasty salad of chickpeas and basil, a gray paste whose contents were unclear (but it tasted somewhat like seafood, so I will assume and hope that’s what it was made of), and local charcuterie, three types of dried meat and sausage.  And when I ordered my wine, which was also included in the price of the meal, I got not a glass but a pitcher, roughly equal to an entire bottle, which needless to say was not finished, since I was hoping to actually find my hotel again.

It seemed like he was taking forever after clearing my entrée to take my order for my plat, or main course. But soon the waiter reappeared with three serving dishes. Apparently here you didn’t choose which you wanted, you simply got all of them. There were cannelloni, with a thin red sauce and filled with brocciu, the local sheep cheese in one dish.  Next, lamb with penne and finally dark lentils with bacon.

excessive? or course not.

Just when I was full to the point that back home I would imagine most waiters coming to clear the table, he asked: do you want me to reheat those for you?  Umm, no I think I’m done, I said, feeling quite full.  No, you must eat more.  I waited for him to laugh, assuming it was one of those waiter-customer jokes. He just moved to the next table, apparently serious. Feeling a bit like a 3 year old told to finish her vegetables, I spooned some more onto my plate.  A few minutes later, he returned, plesed to see that I had made a larger dent, but said, you have to at least finish the cannelloni. I did. 

But there was more. 

Nice and Bastia

the old port area of Nice

I didn’t have many hours in Nice before I had to leave for Corsica, but I did get to walk around the vielle ville and port area some.  Josh: I saw some awesome yachts that I took photos of!  Nice seemed…well, nice (ahh, overused travel cliches).  It was fairly busy and urban though, which was not exactly the environment I was looking for after hours of hectic travel, but still interesting to explore.

I took the ferry in the afternoon to Bastia, Corsica, which is on the northeast side of the island, facing Tuscany in Italy.  The boat that took me there was more of a cruise ship, with multiple bars, restaurants, and game rooms, than what I would normally think of as a ferry.

view of Bastia from the citadel

Five hours later, I found myself in Bastia, the second-largest city in Corsica, with a population of 40,000.  Over the next 24 hours, I was able to get a good feel for the town, which was crumbling and delapidated at times, but in a charming, old-world sort of way.  Some of the buildings surrounding the port are still damaged from WWII.  I was able to check out all of the sights in Bastia on foot: several churches (including one that depicted a relief of one of the Bible’s lesser-known scenes: the circumcision of the baby Jesus), the old port, the citadel (which was once the capital when the island was ruled by Genoa), and the narrow cobblestoned streets that have tiny shops where stables used to be.

Coming soon…

I have not been able to get wireless since arriving in Corsica but as soon as I do, look for several updates with photos and descriptions of Nice and Bastia (including one incredible dinner last night).  I am en route to Corte, my next stop, today so hopefully I can connect there.