For letting me come do research in places like THIS:
Santa Teresa di Gallura
When I arrived on the ferry it was too dark to see anything, but the next morning, while waiting for the bus to my next destination, I was able to appreciate Santa Teresa di Gallura. Since it was just a short stopover, I didn’t get to actually feel those turquoise waters, unfortunately, but I loved the view. There was an old Spanish lookout tower on the rocks over the water, and the shores of Corsica were visible from the beach.
I did indulge in one of my favorite Italian foods however, at a restaurant called Papè Satan (it must be so named because it leads one to gluttony, since the pizza itself was heavenly). Buffalo mozzarella cheese. The flavor is hard to describe, but it reminded me how far Domino’s is from the real thing.
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.
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.
Filed under Bastia, France, Nice