Week 2 – Friday July 9 – Genoa to Corsica

Bon Soir, Mes Amis. I am writing this from the square in Saint Florent, Corsica. It is 6pm on washing night, so Anne and I have just loaded our washing into the washing machine in the laundromat over the road and have now settled in to the bar to have a pre-dinner drink while waiting fo the wash part of the laundry process to complete. The local men are playing Boule / Petanque in the square. They seem to be taking it far to seriously for a game played on even ground, by men of inconsistent ability. If Boule were a measure of the national Psyche, I'd say the men of Corsica are more uptight, more agressive and lived life at a faster pace than their Provencal / Dourdogne counterparts – the driving on the island would dray the same conclusion. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Friday morning and we checked out of the hotel and made our way the 800m to the ferry terminal. Ferries the world over are the same – an inexplainable system of people giving you tickets, sticking things on your car or dash only for the next person in the chain to remove the sticker or retrieve the ticket. The day was yet again perfect and we were pleased to be parked in the shade as we waited for half an hour before we were boarded. Sitting in the car park, there seemed so many cars, caravans, campers and motorbikes that we were sure Corsica would overflow when we arrived. Had some local try to spam me - “park over here, sir”.... “now, can I have a Euro for telling you where to park and for the useless lighter I've just given you”. “Sorry, Chief, but I would have figured it out for myself”.

Once we were on board, we realised how big the ferry is that we were sailing on. There were whole lounges that were empty. We got a seat up at the front of the boat. The lounge we were in was 3 staggered stoies high, that could all look out the massive sloping 3 storied window. The ferry left 6 minutes early and for the next 4 and ¾ hours we sailed on the calmest seas I have ever seen. For most of the time, there was just a haze on the horizon as far as the eye could see, but at about 12:15 Corsica came into view on our starboard side. For the next hour and a half, we cruised down the coast of Cap Corse, until the town of Bastia and its harbour came into view.

Once we had docked, the easy part was over. Now we had to get off the boat, get through what passes for customs, clear the port area and make out way over the hill from Bastia to Saint Florent, via a 536m pass, while at all times making sure we didn't have a crash with the crazy locals.

Washing's done – onto the drying. Our car was in garage 5, which wasn't called until half an hour AFTER the ferry had docked. That completed, we were off the ferry is quick smart time, only to be stopped at the end of the ramp by the French customs official in his dicky little hat. No problems there, just hand over the passports and car ownership papers. Another half hour and we were almost of out the port area...... sigh. The road over to Saint Florent – all 26ks of it, was twisty, bumpier and narrower than the top of the Rimutakas on the Wellington side. Despite being at the back of a queue of 10 cars, I was passed by 3 cars on the way down to Saint Florent on stretches of road, which were not really long enough to pass. In addition to that, we had a kid in a small car and one on a scooter drifting alarmingly onto our side of the road on our way up the hill. We were glad to get to the campground.

The campground is fantastic with huge trees over the entire site, so it's beautifully shady and very cool. There is a heat wave in Europe and each day is around 34 degrees, so shade and cool is very good. It's quirks are – no man seat.... no woman seat.... NO SEAT. The good news is that it's either a toilet without a seat, or a Turkish toilet – that's a squatty, or hole in the ground to you. Because it's so shaded, there's no grass, so it's a bit dusty. Our 10m power cable is not long enough to get to the tent, so it goes as far as it can and then lies on the ground. Positives are really friendly people, yet again, free internet – my internet stick is for Italy and we're now in France, a really awesome swimming pool, pastries and coffees at the campground in the mornings, a good onsite restaurant and a shop that sells chilled wine – white and Rose, but no chilled red.

The campground is outside of Saint Florent, so once we'd pitched the tent, we headed into town for a look around. Saint Florent is a very small town of about 1500 people (about the size of Wanaka), but for some reason, there is a huge marina that goes on for miles and must house a couple of thousand boats. It's all a bit untidy, and they're mostly just family runabouts, but it does also get visits from some pretty amazing mega yachts. After a bit of a walk around, Anne and I decided it was time for a drink, so we found a little bar in the shade on the harbour's edge. It was nice because it was away from all the superyachts and affored us nice views of the town and the harbour.

And then they started arriving – one by one, superyacht after superyacht was backed in against the wharf right outside our nice little bar. They started at about 60 feet and went all the way to 100 feet. By the time they were all in, there wasn't a single berth available and there also wasn't any views other than of some very big boats. The first one to arrive had only mum, dad and two kids on board, but after that, as the boats go bigger, more and more crew were on the boats. A crew of four might no sound a lot, but when all it is, is your family pleasure craft, it's a bit of an added overhead. Anyway, after the extroverted display of opulence, Anne and I headed back to the campground for Pizza and Vin de Maison for dinner – very nice.