Blog Nine: Bonifacio, Corsica, France
[15-20 October]
As we traverse the sea between Sardinia and Corsica, on the somewhat beat-up looking Moby ferry, Bonifacio makes its presence felt from some way out. First the chalky white limestone cliffs of the south coast of Corsica come into focus, then the huddle of buildings teetering improbably on those clifftops, with a dramatic mountain backdrop. The closer the ferry approaches, the more dramatic and impressive the city of Bonifacio becomes, until we are right under its citadel, peering to try to see a break in the cliffs which will mark the entrance to the harbour.
We have both wanted to visit Corsica more years than we care to remember. The choice of our location on this large island was heavily influenced by the fact that Fiona gave me a painting of Bonifacio by one of our favourite artists, Tom Watt, for our 40th Wedding Anniversary back on 1st May 2022. We then decided we’d like to see the place in the flesh.
We sail past the huge mediaeval fortifications, past the rusted metal winches which were used to pull chains across the harbour mouth, to discourage enemy ships during WW2, into what must be one of the most attractive ports in the Mediterranean. Down in this part of the city, the sailing fraternity rules.
Fiona has come up trumps again as far as accommodation goes – we are in a hotel right at the end of the port called the Roy d’Aragon, and she has secured a room with the biggest and best balcony space of any on the waterfront. It has a fabulous view of the port and the towering citadel, which is eccentrically floodlit at night – garish mauve with an intermittent flashing red – and which is complemented by the bright green pharmacy sign below, which is always showing the wrong time and temperature.
We decide to get some dinner quite close to our hotel in the port. We opt for a pizzeria by the waterside, but when we sit down it’s apparent that the space is full of smokers and smoke. We suggest to the owner that we could maybe move across the small street to the other section of the restaurant which is almost empty. “Is the same!” he shouts over his shoulder, which is as close to “Please bugger off!” as it needs to be, so we do. A local person later informs us that smoking is so popular that Corsican restaurants get around the laws by pretending they are open air spaces then rolling down plastic sides. All the smokers can then enjoy their fags fully and constantly throughout your meal.
Later in the evening we walk past the nearby Caravelle Restaurant, which is extremely expensive. It also has a semi-outdoor bar and club area, where apparently older sailing gents can fraternise with attractive younger women, whilst the beat goes on and the lasers play. We retire to bed.
In the morning, we meet the rudest person we have yet enountered on the trip. She has the fairly simple job of selling one price tickets for the little tourist train which is the cheapest way to wind your way up the precipitous road to the citadel and the old town, which loom over the entrance to the port. She manages to make this difficult and unpleasant. Perhaps she is fed up with the endless boat and bus loads of aged German tourists who appear at her kiosk window, looking to be whisked up to the citadel in the wee trains. In any event she might like to consider more sympathetic forms of employment, like Abbatoir Attendant, or Edinburgh Councillor.
Once we are up within the old city walls, it almost becomes like A Tale of Two Cities. Not quite London and Paris, but up the hill lie quaint mediaeval streets, nice bars and restaurants and apparently much more pleasant people. Oh, and absolutely spectacular views of the sheer limestone cliffs and the dazzling blue-green sea all the way over to Sardinia.
Sitting outside one tiny bar beside a church loggia we peruse the junk, sorry antique pieces, on show on the adjacent stalls. The bar owner sets these out every day and runs these two sides of his business in parallel. We ask for red wine. He has none. A French bar with no red wine. Beers? He hopes so, and manages to tip the barrel far enough to get us two nice cold Pietras, Corsican beer which also comes, I later discover, in the form of an excellent amber beer with walnut.
The owner is gangly, eccentric, very friendly, and everything in sight is ancient, including the bar’s tables, chairs and lamps. When not serving customers he flits about straightening up and adding to the objects which are for sale. He is immediately likeable and the ever decreasing choice of drinks seems to do nothing to deter patrons as the place rapidly fills up. We note that French folk seem to be very friendly and convivial, and always engage in conversation when thrown together – our own deficiencies in the language department unfortunately block many of those possibilities.
We shop at a SPAR down in the port. SPARs in Corsica and Venice really seem to be a bit of a cut above their equivalents back home, particularly in the quality of the produce which is on sale – delicious croissants every morning being a case in point.
We go on two different boat trips whilst we are in Bonifacio – the boats leave from the pier twenty metres from our hotel entrance. One trip goes along by the white cliffs to a couple of the Lavezzi islands, which have similar beautiful green-blue water to the islands off Sardinia, and also feature intriguing rock formations, set against a glorious blue sky with fluffy white clouds. The other route hugs the coast in the opposite direction, visiting a couple of large caves and some lovely small bays, one of which boasts a rock formation which is said to resemble Napoleon’s helmet. Not tonight, Josephine….
When we are not enjoying the sun and the breeze on the high seas, or wandering about the confusing citadel streets enjoying the fabulous views, we adjourn to our balcony from where we can survey the whole panorama of the marina and the citadel at our leisure, with our refreshments of choice. Not a bad choice for our penultimate destination, and we are both very happy to have finally made it to Corsica, after years of talking about it!
My dozen favourite images from our stay in Bonifacio are included in the gallery below. Click on a thumbnail to see a bigger image. If you’re using a mobile phone, turn your screen sideways to see the bigger image to best effect.
Image Gallery
