Sun of the Corsican variety.

I went swimming here.



And here.



Here too.



I went to Corsica alone. I invited Xavier; he was uninterested (or employed, I couldn't figure out which weighed more in his 'no'). He's pretty bossy (one of the things I really do like); so I am (I like that more). So, ça va, quoi. I not only went without Xavier, I also went for three days with hardly any words. The time drew out like a stretched out slinky - I had so much more of it than I ever thought I would. So it would seem that words stab time and force it into smaller clods and ergo you get more bits and less overall taffy (that which, for me in Corsica, was stretched). At least that is how I feel about it after being soused by words again today. There were all sorts and they all seemed to take on overimportant personalities: backer, commander (the squishing kind), incomer, monkey (the mimicking kind), grownup, encroacher, vamp (love those - especially in gay paris), enchanter - the words all around me today felt like beings who were taking form and closing in. Strange words to describe words. But these characters also made the day whiz by (tightly wound slinky). I also read Colette in Corsica, which might have something to do with it. Brilliant (I am in love).

Iles Sanguinaires.

Magnificent. They loomed out there - the Sanguinary Islands in Corsica. I was taken.





There was a trail to climb to the stone tower - the sea hemming every side, the wind surging - a sea mistral, sweet not mean, as I ascended.





The view from the top was straight down, dizzying.

Fromage de Chevre.

On the long road, I took a sharp left suddenly when I saw the sign:



It was guaranteed cheese from the gods: local chevre. Bespoke a smelly but very tasty ending. The road was like this:



That was the portion of the road that was paved, the unpaved portion had such large potholes, I was almost in tears at some point (it took quite a lot to get me to that point - several vehicles who came in the opposite direction - requiring long bouts of reversing, enormous ravines in the road, basically a trail that was not at all fashioned for my particular vehicle). At some point I decided that I had devoted a lot of energy to this cheese and I happened to be famished, so I plowed ahead and willed the car over the difficult passages. My little car and I, we made it.





Then I waited for my turn to get the cheese.





The cheese was almighty. This is hard chevre (very salty, almost like feta, but richer). I also purchased soft chevre, the kind that melts in your mouth and has the consistency of a gooey butter. I ate the entire wheel almost by the time I had forced my wheels to retrace their treacherous path. It was my way of keeping my mind off the road in front of me - psychologically necessary in order to carry on. Finally, little car and I bounced back on to the larger (not by much) road and headed on our way.

Corsica.

I underestimated Corsica's size.

I set off, starting at at Porticcio, where my hotel is, pretty near Ajaccio (recommended by a long-time Corsica go-er and now I would re-recommend it as well, a lot of charm here. Note: you don't want to be too near Ajaccio, that is for sure. A lot of cement and ugly buildings). From Porticcio, I drove the most serpentine road I had ever driven in all of my life - through mountains, along the coast. The advancing blue dot on the screen of the ipad (navigating in the seat next to me) kept turning round on itself, just like the roads. Since the thing was not locked, the screen kept flipping from a horizontal to vertical view with loops in the roads. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I felt really solitary too since the weather has been sort of on and off the whole weekend and I don't think the season has really yet begun. Hardly saw other cars or humans.





Corsica is this really wild and dense place. The vegetation is thick, it looks like lined-up broccoli heads all bunched together. And then other parts of the island are different, drier - arid, mountainous. It is all mountainous actually. What is surprising is how much Corsica there is with absolutely no human beings. The part where humans reside is often aesthetically sub-par. Most of the inhabited regions are concrete based and not very charming, with the exception of the little villages in the hills. The sea and the mountains are intimate comrades - they meet at every turn. This is why on every Corsican road, you are likely staring at the sea while navigating hairpin turns through the mountain and all of a sudden you can find yourself at a port.









I stopped in one mountainous village called Sartène. What would it be like to grow up in an isolated place like that? The man with his cane drew my eye, his posture, his way of life and the panorama made my nostrils and eyes splay.









Then around several bends in the mountain, I was staring at turquoise water and clearing skies. I descended and was inspired to take a random right turn toward the water. I give myself credit for discovering one of those places to which I know I'll go out of my way to come back (this is on N196 heading toward Bonifacio, the sign read "D358 Tunnara (Plage)." Plage is exact, in this case. The kind where coves of rocks create small concealed beaches all along the shore, where the flora inspires, where there are mountains in the near distance and there is still lovely sand at your feet. Just my kind. Sublime.

Corsica's Pallete.

Immediately, I was taken by the colors here. They are in my favorite ranges of pigmentation.





























And bright red. These coquelicots (poppies) were everywhere and, accordingly, they intensified all the greens, greys and blues.