Distance in Corsica is measured in time, and time is meaningless, which makes for interesting calculations if you want to work out how much you can fit in a day.
It does take a little adjustment, but once one understands that a journey of twenty kilometres (three as the crow flies) could take an hour if the road is particularly narrow and windy, and a journey of eighty kilometres could take two hours, as long as there is plenty to eat and drink, it all starts to fall into place.
Dr Dumè is determined to inject as much of “his” Corsica into our souls as is humanly possible in the few days we have in his company.
Therefore during a drive of six or so hours, we managed to visit the extraordinary village of Bonifacio with it’s limestone fortifications and sheltered harbours, inspect artefacts, bronze aged statues still standing in the spots where they have stood guard for four millennium, some of our favourite pieces of his work nestled in an estuary somewhere, all the while hugging a coastline that can only be described as spectacular.
We stopped for coffee at a place called Lion Rock, but when I remarked, I thought privately, that in my view it looked more like a pussy cat, a deadly silence descended on the cafe where we sat.
Dumè whispered that offended Corsicans have a particular methodology for dealing with those who cause offence, which involves cable ties and boat anchors and a short voyage out to sea.
Perhaps it really does look like a lion.
2 comments
Oh! Now I see the lion! Is that Jo under his chin? Someone's there wearing red!
You should have said aloud, "Clearly that was the inspiration for the Sphinx" or something like that.
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