The older, and more derelict the better in my book:

Restaurant A. Rotta is understated, casual, and welcoming with outrageously beautiful views just like the Ile de Beaute itself.

All the way at the far end of Algajola’s powdery white sand beach there is a no frills sign alerting passers by of something called “Snack A. Rotta”

Truth be told, it doesn’t look like much, from the beach.  That’s because the shaded beach bar is hidden behind the trees and salt water loving succulents that surround it.

Once inside its actually quite a spacious place with a proper indoor dining room as well as a sprawling outside area where you can drink a cold Pietra – the local Corsican beer – with the sun on your face and the sand beneath your feet.

Drinks and snacks are served all day and they also have a selection of sea food and pasta dishes at lunch and dinner times.  It’s good to book in advance for dinner and be forewarned: they don’t take credit cards.

[Restaurant A. Rotta, Algajola beach +33 (0) 4 95 60 74 85]

On our first trip to the gorgeous French island a couple of years ago, we spent a few of days on the north east coas in the town of Bastia. It’s Corsica’s second largest city after Ajaccio, and sits between the mountains and the sea.

Unlike the idyllic seaside villages on the west coast of the island, Bastia has the feel and look of a hard working port town. With the salty sea air corroding the once grand buildings, and the largely empty tourist spots, it feels like a place stoically clinging to its past. At 20%, the city has among France’s highest unemployment rates, and there is a kind of rough, hard scrabble aura to the cobble stone streets and brightly colored buildings.

I was utterly taken with the eroded beauty of the place especially the rusting and peeling signs in an impressive array of fonts.

Last year I was lucky enough to spend three whole months traveling.  I nearly made it all the way around the world from Europe, to the Middle East, through the US and around South East Asia.

I saw some wonderful places, met fascinating people, and got to celebrate a few milestones with good friends.

I started in Corsica, a little French island off the country’s southern coast and stopped in the West Bank in Palestine, London, New York, Arizona, Bali and California.  It was an outstanding trip and I have tried to capture a sliver of the beauty of it in a short film.  Here are a few of my favorite moments.

There’s a fine line between well-bred and inbred. Any reality-TV enthusiast ‘red-neckonizes’ this. And any wine enthusiast understands that Corsica’s wine regions may be insulated from Continental France, but not insular.

Image: en.wikipedia.org

Corsica’s biodiversity – we’re talkin’ a boat-load of of soils, micro-climates and typography, creates one of the most unique vinicultural areas in the world. No wonder it’s called I’lle d’Beauté (Island of Beauty).

Corsica’s wine regions literally ring the island’s center,  Parc Naturel Régional de Corse, and contain a snow-capped 9,000 ft. mountain – Monte Cinto.

So what about those Corsican wine regions?  Corsica has nine (9). Some fun facts:

Vin de Corse AOC (Appellation d’Origine  Contrôlée)  As a regional AOC, administratively it covers the entire island, but logistically it really covers most of the east coast of the island.

• Labels may also say Corse AOC

•  Sub-appelations: Five (5)  Smaller in size, yields:
  • Vins de Corse
  • Coteaux du Cap Corse (North)
  • Calvi (NW) ) Famous for Gris de Calvi rosé
  • Sartène and Figari (SW)
  • Porto Vecchio (SE)

• ~45% all island wine production –  regional/subregions
• Wine Styles: Reds, rosés, whites
• Primary Red Grapes: Niellucciu, Sciacarellu, Grenache
• Secondary Red Grapes: Cinsault, Mourvédre, Barbarossa, Syrah, Carignan
• Primary White Grapes: White Vermentino (regional, sub-regions)
• Secondary White Grapes: Ugni Blanc (regional/sub-regions), Codivarta ( sub-regions)

Ajaccio AOC - Located in Ajaccio – SW coastal town

• Wine Styles: Medium-bodied  reds, rosés, whites
• Primary Red Grapes: Sciacarellu, Niellucciu, Barbarossa, Vermentino
• Secondary Red Grapes: Grenache, Cinsault, Carignan
• Primary White Grapes: White Vermentino
• Secondary White Grape:  Ugni Blanc

Patrimonio AOC: Located on North coast; Corsica’s 1st AOC.

• Wine Styles: Reds, rosés, whites
• Primary Red Grapes: Niellucciu
• Secondary Red Grapes: Sciacarellu, Grenache, Vermentino
• White Grapes: 100 % White Vermentino

Muscat du Cap Corse AOC - Northern tip of island

• Wine Style: Vin Doux Naturel (Sweet Fortified Wine) 15-18% alcohol; RS  > 9.5%
• Primary Grape: 100% Muscat à Petits Grains

Vins de Pays (VDP’s) VDP wines are those typically produced with less restrictions and greater yields than those of AOC’s, but with more restrictions than VDT (Vin de Table) wines.

• VDP I’lle de Beauté  - ~60% Corsican wine production
• VDP Pays de Mediteranée - Includes Rhône, Provence, and Corsica

Image: mrodenberg.com

Not your usual Old World Wine suspect – for the adventurous, Corsican wines offer variety, quality, and value. Well worth a gambol. Cheers!

Corsica –  Part 1: Beyond Bonaparte

Copyrighted 2012. All Rights Reserved.

“A Cupulatta” (little dome in Corsican), was created in 1998 as a center for abandoned and hurt Herman tortoises that are well spread in Corsica. I remember when I was a kid we used to find quite a few in the little wood surrounding our house. Well, nowadays, like many other species, Herman tortoises are endangered and protected, so that they cannot be displaced from their natural habitat.

Since then “A Cupulatta” has grown to be the only park dedicated to tortoises and turtles in Europe, with more than 3000 tortoises and 170 different species. It is truly en enchantment to wander in the alleys, cross the wood bridges, peep through the aquarium glass of this huge park (2.5 ha), and watch the giant Galapagos tortoise, the scary Alligator turtle, or the cute little Golden tortoises fresh from the incubator.      Another Corsican wonder that I highly recommend you visit, only 30 minutes from Ajaccio. And once the visit is finished one can still relax in the shade of the chestnut trees for a well deserved picnic! Oh, and I almost forgot: pick a sunny day to visit the park, as most tortoises will show their pretty face only when the whether is nice and warm, otherwise they will hide and sleep (they did adapt well to the Corsican habits).

For more details visit acupulatta.com (french only).

I swam in the Mediterranean, Ligurian, and Bali seas, and the Pacific Ocean.  Slept in hotel beds, and strange apartments, on couches, hammocks and in the comfort of home.  Which brings me to a question that has recently been on my mind:

Where is home?

As I write this, I am in Portland where my family is. It feels distinctly homey here with the low hum of the washing machine churning away in the basement, the full pot of coffee on the go in the well-stocked kitchen, the abundance of comfortable beds and the continuous offers of my favorite foods.

This is not the house I grew up in – my parents only moved to Oregon from California a few years ago, but somehow they managed to transport all of the comfort and familiarity with them across state lines.

San Francisco, where I spent a lot of my youth and where many of my friends still live, feels a lot like home.   With the familiar shapes of the buildings and smell of the trees, and the concentration of people I love, it doesn’t take long after arriving at the airport there to feel that I belong.

Ramallah is where the Englishman is, and I’ve spent enough of the last year there, that things about life in the West Bank feel homelike.  Waking up together each morning and going about our tasks: him making tea, and me coffee, hanging our laundry on the line in the sun, sitting down at the kitchen table to play a hand of cards.  There are feelings of love and comfort and domesticity there too.

And, of course, Nice.  This is the place that I feel kind of belongs to me.  This is where my stuff is for one thing, my clothes hanging on the rack, my creams in the bathroom drawer.  It’s where the woman at the bakery notices when I’ve been gone, and where I have a frequent shopper’s card at the grocery store.

It’s becoming confusing though to identify which of these places is home.  Sometimes it feels like the in between parts are the constant.  The clacking of my suitcase wheels on cement, the security of knowing where everything is in my carryon.  Passport? Check.  Wallet? Check.  Lip balm, book, extra socks, check, check, check.

After all these months, I don’t feel much closer to deciding where I want to be.  If anything, my desire to see new places has grown.

The more of the world I see, the more I feel that there is just too much out there to stay in one place.  I have a chronic condition of always wanting to be where I am not, and it is only getting worse.

Sometimes I can step back and look at this year as a way of getting it out of my system.  I have had a fun and frivolous 12 months, flitting from one place to the next, taking in the experiences and learning about new places.  But sooner or later I am going to have to get back to reality.

Then something else takes over and I start to think that maybe this could be reality.  Why not, I mean some people travel for a living right?  Wanting to see the world is a virtuous endeavor too – isn’t it?

But soon the constant traveling will have to come to a halt.  The ambitious itineraries with two-day stays and weekly flights will be coming to an end.  Through a self-imposed tethering, I will be rooted in one place – for a few months at least.

I think I have finally wrestled the French Consulate into submission, and I should have a student visa in my hot little hands in a few weeks time, which will mean that for six months I will be back in Nice.  Getting back to the original plan of immersing myself in the language and the lifestyle of the south of France.

Not only that, but I will be a student again!  My course is at the local University in Nice, Where (fingers crossed) I might actually meet some people who live there.

But before I hunker back down for fall and winter in Provence, I still have some time left to soak up summer in the US.  I am back in Portland for a few weeks, hanging out with my parents and my sister.  The Rose city is a stunner in the August heat.  In retrospect, this time of year would have been a better introduction to the place than January was for the Englishman, but there will be more opportunities for visits.

Things grow so well here, every day there seems to be another pound of ripe tomatoes on my parent’s vines, along with the yellow squash, kale and broccoli sprouting in their garden boxes and apples growing on the tree.

The truth is: I have no idea where I want to be, or maybe more accurately, I want to be everywhere, all the time.  But there is no use overanalyzing things, the future is up in the air, and I am just going to accept that.  I am letting go of control a bit, and seeing where that leads.  Maybe my time in Bali rubbed off on me more than I expected it to.

The next leg of the adventure involves: me – the word’s worst driver, my mom – a woman doesn’t like to spend more than 20 minutes in the car at one time, my dad – a man who has racked up more speeding tickets than he would care to remember, my mom’s 16 year old RAV 4 compete with one very old cassette deck and 12-plus hours on the open road.  At the very least, it will be….  interesting.

Algajola, Corsica is a tiny coastal town with a permanent population of around 300 people.  It embodies perfectly the combination of wild, rugged, natural, beauty and European culture that defines the French island of Corsica.

Being such a tiny place, you won’t find many big hotels here, but there are a few lodging options, and the welcoming and design conscious U Castellu Guest-rooms is a dreamy place to stay if you ever get the chance.

Run by a friendly young woman named Maude, the boutique hotel is housed in the ancient stone walls of a Genoese fortress.

At first glance, the hotel could easily be overlooked.  Other than a clay pot of lavender on some steep steps leading up to a tiny door, there isn’t much to see from outside, but once past the threshold, you will find that Maude has thought of everything.

There are only 5 rooms in the cosy guesthouse, and each is expertly and simply decorated with clean, modern furniture, crisp white linens, sweet smelling French bath products, and fast free wifi.

The beautiful interiors of the small hotel  look like they have migrated off the pages of the design magazines scattered throughout.

A delectable breakfast is served each morning, with breads and patisserie fresh from a local bakery, cereals, cheeses, yogurt, fresh fruit, orange juice, coffee made to order, and an egg poacher.

There is a lovely small balcony off the second story, where guests can take their breakfast, or just sit and enjoy the fantastic view.

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Rates vary from €90 – €130 ($113 – $165) a night and it is good to book in advance as there are so few rooms – especially in August when all of Corsica is fully booked.

The easiest way to get to Algjola is by train from Calvi.  The journey takes about 20 minutes and costs around €4.  Check the schedule to plan your trip.

For years the Englishman and I said we should go someday. So last summer, after I decided to embark on this crazy adventure, and had arrived in Nice, we finally went.

It was a magical trip, and one of the few places we have discovered together, so we promised to go back.

This month saw a momentous Birthday, for the gracefully aging Englishman and L’ile de beauté seemed like the ideal place to celebrate.

What felt like a minute after we arrived back in Nice from England, we turned right around and set off again this time by sea.

Part of the fun of a trip to Corsica, in my opinion, is getting there. Of course there are short flights from the mainland – it only takes an hour by air – but along with cornichon, the Englishman and I have a shared appreciation for nostalgia and things of the past, so we decided to take the five and a half hour ferry ride instead.

The Corsica and Sardinia ferries are bizarre and wonderful things. The towering ships have distinctly 1970’s interiors and pipe in ceremonial marching music as the vessels depart from and arrive in port.

We opted for the early morning departure, and once through the cavernous garage floor and up the elevator to the main decks, the décor did not fail to impress… or at least grab attention.

The theme in the “cozy bar” where we took our seats was an overstated, gold and silver lamè motif with hundreds of hanging silver light fixtures, a dance floor, and grand piano. On this particular boat – they seem to have slight differences – there was also a pool (sans water) along side the tiki-bar on the rear deck.

The wait-staff onboard seem to be mostly Italian and the uniform is an oddly formal, bright yellow tuxedo jacket complete with bow-tie, which adds a welcome nod to times gone by.

The ferry let us off in Calvi, where we got rid of our sea legs over the most delicious moules marinières I have ever had. Huge plump mussels, expertly cooked with white wine and shallots, and of course hot salty fries to compliment the classic dish.

From there we made our way to the almost too-adorable-for-words little coastal train that trundles along the north west coast of the island. We opted to stay in the small beach town of Algajola.

The biggest selling point of the tiny town is the wide strip of nearly white sand that runs through it, and the blue-green waves of the Ligurain Sea crashing at its shore.

Sandwiched midway between two bigger towns: Calvi and L’Ile Rousse, Algajola manages to keep a low profile and the beach only really fills up in the baking heat of August.

Our visit happened to coincide with some unseasonably strong, 85 mph, winds ripping through the town. Which made sunbathing an exercise in pain management with the grains of sand like little bullets blown against the skin.

Not to worry though, Corsica is famous for its hiking and walking trails, so we took the wind as a suggestion that we get a bit of exercise in and ventured off on a beach walk.

Maude, the stylish woman who runs the fabulous little bed and breakfast where we stayed told us about an easy walking trail to L’Ile Rousse, so we set off to see what we might find.

Corsica has a wonderfully rustic and wild feel to it. People describe it as how the South of France was 20 or 30 years ago. The lack of high rises and massive hotels is refreshing, and parts of the island really do still feel pristine and undiscovered.

We walked along winding empty trails first on the windy beach and then up rocky hills, and along the old railroad tracks. We never made it into town. Instead, we dropped down from the path to a totally deserted stretch of beach and found a little cover to protect us from the wind.

Just off in the distance we saw what looked like a beach bar, I doubted it would be open, as we were the only ones on the beach. But on closer inspection, we realized we had stumbled upon a full-fledged gourmet restaurant and lively, sprawling, beach bar hidden behind the tall sea grass.

Corsica is full of beautiful little surprises like this. Algajola, with a population of just over 300 people, could be overlooked as having nothing more to offer visitors than views of the ancient fortress walls that surround it. In fact, its has a fantastic bakery, a couple of upscale restaurants, two wood oven pizzerias and a top-notch gelateria.

Our three-day trip was just about perfect, the winds died down enough for some time on the beach, we kept things simple and had a low-key picnic lunch on the deck of our hotel for the Englishman’s Birthday, and got to spend a little more time on what is fast becoming one of my favorite island destinations. Corsica, I have decided, is a place I could stay for a long time.

As we waited for the train, I caught myself daydreaming of a crumbling stone hut in the hillside somewhere just waiting to be renovated. Images of curling grape vines and bright, blooming, Bougainvillea climbing up the walls filled my head as we made our way back to the port where the ferry was waiting to take us on to Nice. Sometimes dreams come true… We’ll have to see if my rustic Corsican abode materializes.

No trip can go off without a hitch though, this I can assure you. After nearly 5 hours of bobbing and gliding along the Mediterranean, our conversation went something like this:

Englishman: “So who has the house keys?”

Me: “You do.”

Englishman: “ Do I? I think you do.”

And then we proceeded to frantically search our pockets, coats, and every inch of our suitcases repeatedly for about half an hour.

We searched our own bags, and then searched each other’s. We tried to call the upstairs neighbor, who has a spare key before realizing the lovely woman doesn’t have a cell phone. And then we started planning how we might break into the second story apartment, or failing that, which hotel we could stay in for the night.

And just to set the scene, we put on this ridiculous show for all of the passengers around us, accompanied by the lounge pianist and her rendition of Lionel Richie’s Penny Lover and other such classics.

If you find yourself in a similar situation on your travels, try to stay calm long enough to remember the basics. If you are in Kindergarten and you lose something, what do you do? You check the lost and found. And luckily for us, that is exactly where the precious keys had been waiting for us all along.

Next we are off for a flying visit of London and then on to the Middle East. Stay tuned.

This is a 55 minute documentary-film of my experience on the northern section of the GR 20 (Corsica) I did back in July 2010 with a couple of friends.

If you care to watch it to the end, you will (hopefully) share our same emotions and will get the distinct impression of what this trek is about. For those who have done this trek already it will be heartwarming to find some familiar places.

Shooting and editing this film has been for me an act of love towards this fantastic land.

PS

I did my best to make the most of my vidcam, but please bear in mind I did it with a “pocket” cam, with all the limitations that this means. However it is shot in HD, so if you prefer to watch it full screen you can do so by going directly to the vimeo page: http://vimeo.com/15061401

If you don’t have a fast connection I recommend to let the video buffer (load) for some minutes on your computer before watching it.

Related thread:  corsica.forhikers.com/forum/p/3735

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This is a 57 minute documentary-film of my experience on the southern section of the GR20 (Corsica) I did back in June 2011 with a friend.

It is the logical sequel to the video above and concludes this duology. Although there are some mild hints to the other video – which I strongly recommend to watch before this one – this was shot as a standalone film.

Again, to watch it full screen you can do so by going directly to the vimeo page: http://vimeo.com/29148378

Related thread:  corsica.forhikers.com/forum/p/7637

Enjoy!