2018 French Foray

2 days of blogging in one. Yesterday was the journey from Corsica to Paris. We drove an uneventful 2 hours to Ajaccio, capital of Corsica. The girls had managed to book a direct flight to Paris which was an huge improvement as the previous flight involved a hour flight to Nice followed by another hour to Paris. What a stupid idea. Landed in Paris at 1600 hrs. Had a bit of a bother getting a big taxi and none of the taxis which could taken all 4 of us and the luggage flat-out refused. We ended up having to take 2 taxis. I reckon it is a scam by the taxi drivers to increase their market. Driving into Paris, I saw areas which you could imagine you were in Lebanon, Iraq or Africa. the shape of things to come!

Arrived at the Timhotel at Montmatre, a supposedly 3 star hotel. Maybe not. Firstly, the aircon in our room was not working. In fact the whole first and second floors were without aircon. Even though it wasn’t summer yet, it was still warm. We managed to change our room which was smaller but much cooler. The shower was a closet and there was no way of having a shower without God’s deluge. Thank heavens the water was hot.

After a sleep, we frocked up and went out for dinner. Google to the rescue again. I found this cheapo chinese cafe (Delcies Lepic) which served freshly pulled noodles. Delicious. Went to another place for cocktails and coffee and dessert. One thing you have to give the Frogs, they make great desserts. Replete, it was the Moulin Rouge. Debbie had booked the VIP package and we were greeted and showed to our seats. We were also given a little gift of programmes, little bottles of water, DVD of the show, keyring and little boxes of macaroons. Bugger all in cost but a nice touch. Strangely, we also had to be security checked at the door. First time for a show for me but then again when you remember that France is the most attacked country in Europe by the towelheads, you can understand the paranoia.

Preshow champagne followed with copious more champagne throughout the 90 min show. Amazing show. Tits out and G-string bum floss is de rigour. The costumes were very flamboyant and colourful. The girls and guys were at it (dancing) virtually non-stop. Incredible. It is obviously a pre-requisite that the girls have to have non saggy tits and legs up to their neck and the guys have to have a full 6 to 8 pack. We all enjoyed the show immensely and it was a great present for Leonie’s birthday. In fact it was a great finale to a great holiday. We got back to the hotel at 2 am.

As expected, I had a thumping headache from drinking champagne. Don’t why I do it. I guess I just swept up in the moment. As we didn’t have to leave for the airport until noon, we took the chance to visit the Montmatre cathedral. This is a 870 year old building on a bloody hill which, you guessed it, meant climbing uphill. Ugh! Once up on the hill, there was panoramic view of Paris. The cathedral itself was very imposing. What I liked best were the gargoyles. A bunch of mainland chinese tourists appeared out of thin air. In and out in 5 minutes. They remind me of a flock of seagulls fighting over a chip. Throw another chip in another direction, they were bound to follow.

After that, it was coffee time. After spending all this time in France, Deb and I have not had a single crepe. It was time remedy that mistake. We chose this restaurant with tens of tables the sidewalk all with checkered tablecloths. All empty. We sat down and because it was all really cramped, we ended up spreading out over 3 tables. I was instantly told off by the waiter that we are only allowed 2 tables. Very Monty Python as all the tables were empty. This happened twice and I can tell I was pissed off! As an act of revenge, we paid the bill in coins. Stick that up your jumper.

By the way, the waiter incident was opposite Artist square or what was artist square as it has been taken over by restaurants. The artists were pushed to the periphery, each trying to sell their art to the tourist. The art was varied, some good and some just plain shitty.

Back to the hotel to meet our transport to the airport. Checked in and in the lounge. The only way to travel. Land in Perth in about 20 hrs with a 2 hour transit in DOHA.

The End

Today is our last day in Bonafacio. We decided togo on a boat tour. Harry was going to sit it out due to his back and that fact that he turns green on the jetty. It was 23 Euros each for about hour on the water in a glass bottom boat. Again, thank the lord it is still low season so the boat wasn’t too full. Just as everyone was boarding, Harry bought a ticket and hopped on board. FOMO (fear missing out) strikes again! We casted off and motored out of the inlet to the open sea. It was very calm and pleasant. The deckie gave running commentary in French. Must have been funny at times as the Frogs on board had a few chuckles. The captain took us into a few caves. Very skilful as it looked like a tight squeeze in one cave which had an opening in the roof that was in the shape of Corsica. The deckie burlied up to attract the fish to be viewed through the glass bottom. We also happen on a couple of dolphins which excited the others but hey, we can see those bastards off Kombana bay in Bunbury. I reckon Harry was a bit sea sick but he denied everything. Liar liar, pants on fire! It was a very pleasant hour and a half well spent.

We split up for lunch as Harry was hankering for crepes (or craps from his terrible Serbian accent) and Deb and I really did’t fancy having a crap. Back to the hacienda for the siesta. At first I thought that the idea of a siesta was dumb but after nearly 4 weeks in France, it may not be such a bad idea.

We discovered that the flight to Paris was going to involve a changeover in Nice and total travel time was at least 5 hours. Another stupid idea. So the ladies went online and we now have a direct flight to Paris, total flight time less than 2 hours. Much better idea.

The others decided to do the stairway to hell. Check out the photo. Dumb dumb dumb. Even dumber when we found out that you have to pay 2.5 Euro for the privilege of busting a coronary. They went down the steps and I found a cafe and had a drink waiting for them to return. Fucking stupid idea! When they returned, they were rewarded with a beer. Again, the Stocks and us split up for dinner. For some reason, Debbie was partial to sushi and we found the only sushi bar in town. Not cheap but tasty and did the job. The Stocks returned to the hotel for Salade Poulpe (Octopus salad). I had that last night and it was awesome.

Back in the room and packing for the flight to Paris tomorrow.

We decided to walk to the lighthouse on the cliff. Failed with the early start so we were in for a hot time. The lighthouse didn’t look all that far but it involved descending from the Bastion (French for fortress) and the climbing to the other cliff. Funny how you have to climb after descending. Painful truth, that. By the time I finish this holiday, I can be a sherpa!

Harry decided to stay behind as his back was still playing up. Although the walk wasn’t as mountain goaty as the Corte ordeal, it was bad enough. Broken ground of rocks but the one good thing is that the rocks were embedded into the ground so slippery it was not. I managed to make it to the lighthouse and decided to turn back. The ladies wanted to go on to the beach. Bugger that! It was getting quite hot but thankfully there was the occasional breeze to the rescue.

I trudged back. Just was I was about to back to civilisation, I caught Harry setting out to the lighthouse. Not a good idea. All it would take is a jarring step and it would have been agony on his back. Managed to entice him back with the temptation of a cold drink and food. Not all that hard, just gotta to know that Harry’s good a very strong food drive! Actually, he wanted to go down to the waterfront, as he was desperate need to find a pharmacy to stock up on pain meds. Found the pharmacy and it was easy to get the meds as the names of the meds were the same and the pharmacist spoke passable English.

After that, Harry and i camped out in a waterfront cafe with drinks and food until the girls came back from their long march. We spent some time wandering around looking for a place for lunch. Didn’t fancy much of what was on offer, we returned to our hotel for the lunch. It is a bit weird that the hotel dishes out great meals for a better price that eateries outside. Go figure.

Everyone is having a nap. I am going to recommend large doses of whiskey tonight for Harry’s back.

Woke up vey early (0600 hr) to try and get some pictures of the sunrise. Shouldn’t have bothered as it was average with the sun rising over the land. The sunset the night before was much more betterer. Still have to sacrifice for one’s art. The others were still asleep by 0800 hrs! I tell you, early starts are not a habit in our group. Harry didn’t come to breakfast because he was laid out in bed with back pain. That little slip in the rocks the night before had jarred his bad back so he is in bed doing his best log impression. He managed to find some tramadol and was able to move after a while. We decided to check out and drive to Bonafacio and check into the Hotel Genovese so that Harry can do another stiff log impression in comfort. It only took 30 minutes to get there.

Bonafacio is another seaside town and is the main seaside town for tourism. There is a little bit of St Tropez about it with large yachts tethered up to the jetties. Again, I reckon it would be awful in the high season. Heaving with the great unwashed and double the price. The hotel is perched on the very top of the hill. We could get into our rooms early. Great rooms by the way, spacious and stylishly chic. Beautiful bathrooms. A hotel gets its reputation from the quality of the bathrooms, especially the showers. Awesome showers. come to think of it, the showers have been great in Corsica. We had a delicious lunch which cheered Harry up no end (food tend to do that to Harry), and went for a lie down.

After a refreshing supine session, we walked up to the top of the hill. It was a primary school. What a view for the kids! Can’t take a bad photo here, just got to get it in focus. Then we walked to the point where there was a very interesting cemetery full of Italian families. Just goes to prove that these people are more akin to the Italians than the French. Great views all the way. Saw a small cruise liner shadowed by a coast guard boat. Probably just back from picking up African refugees from war torn Ghana.

On the way back, we found this little eatery (Last Minute Mussels) specialising in Mussels (Moule). Chilli mussels, chips all washed down with beer. Perfect dinner to rival any fine dining. Managed together some photos of the beautiful sunset before heading home. All in all, a great day.

If this sounds Italian, it is because it is! We keep wanting to say Ponte Vecchio which is in Florence but it is Porto Vecchio. These Corsicans have much much more in common to the Italians than the French. On the map, it is 10 km from Sardinia which is Italy. No wonder they resent the French and there is a Nationalistic movement at foot. The signs often have the French names graffitteed. Revolution is brewing!! Mind you, if Napoleon was Italian, it would be very unlikely that the Italians would have followed him on his battles as the last time Italians were fighters was back in the Roman times. Now they are all hand waving lovers!

2 hour drive to the seaside town of Porto Vecchio which is like any Italian Busselton but with more history and style. We checked into a Bed and Breakfast type hotel which was quite nice. It was clean and it did the job for the night. We stopped at the old town to check it out. It was quite touristy and one can imagine that it would be heaving with people in a few weeks when it is high season. Professor Google tells me that the population of Porto Vecchio is usually about 10000 but swells to 40000 in the summer. WTF. Where do all these bastards stay! the local specialty is smoked ham and we found a ham and cheese shop. There was hundreds of ham hanging from the rafters. Very expensive if you want to buy a whole leg. These hams are from specially farmed black pigs (am I allowed to say Black and Pigs in the same sentence? Will I lose my job even knowing how to say black? Will twitter going a meltdown? Blah blah blah) feeding on chestnuts.

The pigs are done in at 1, 2, 3, 4 years old. Then the hams are cured and smoked for a further 1, 2, 3 or 4 years. The older the ham, the higher the price. I made the mistake of asking if this was similar to the Spanish Jamon. I was lucky not to be neutered on the spot. As an aside, Corsicans love knives, little ones which are easily hidden in pockets. After laughing nervously and placating her that I was just stupid Japanese tourist, she calmed down. This was explained to us by a porky lady who obviously owned the establishment and love pigs. We bought about a hundred grams of a 2 year old ham for dinner tonight. Harry sniffed out the Boulangerie (French for bakery, please note the French translation) and bought the requisite baguettes. Harry has largely fulfilled his pledge to consume a metre of baguettes a day. A quiet achiever is our Harry.

It was pretty hot and we all retired for the afternoon snooze. After that, we walked the 80 m to the beach and had drinks at the Le Bar Plage, which translate to the Beach Bar. Shit, my French is coming along nicely, what. We had a brought a lot of food and a bottle of wine and we had a picnic whilst watching the sun set over the inlet. Beautiful. Unfortunately, Harry’s impression of a goat on the rocks resulted in a slip and he sustained a small cut in the foot. Health conscious as he is, he has been taking low dose aspirin and predictably started to bleed like a stuck Jamon (spanish for ham and also probably pig). More to come of that little episode. All good and in bed by 2100 hrs