Corsica
The attitude of the quarter moon as it followed the morning star could make one imagine it to be a tiny canoe bearing a bubble of light. Gradually the illumination drizzled into the valley far below and splashed up against the mountainsides. We too followed the morning star feeling our way into an embracing bay on Corsica's western shore. One by one the lights of the tiny town of Porto blinked away as the world about revealed itself. The mountains went from gray to crimson red and the Genoese tower guarding the river entrance followed suit.
Our Zodiacs dipped into the protected marina there and we were whisked away, high into the heart of the island. Greenery carpeted the hillsides clustering along the multitudinous rivulets that lent their name "Les Calanches" to the region. Eroded granite spires, columns and arches stretched high above our heads and dotted the mountain ridges beyond, down into the sea. Lichens painted the surfaces with abstract art for any who chose to stop and look. Where the rugged highlands leveled into a miniature plateau, granite hewn into angular blocks grew into homes and hotels. Here in the village of Piana we strolled about the winding streets, camera in hand, feasting on the diversity of colorful entry ways and windows.
Our activity mirrored that of the Corsican people. Historically they were mountain folk avoiding the wetlands and lowlands. But with the elimination of the malaria bearing mosquito and the influx of visitors, eyes turned to the sea and shore. White beaches beckoned and we spent the afternoon sunbathing, swimming and kayaking.
Napoleon made his start on this most beautiful of islands and as the sun disappears below the horizon we slip into his home town Ajaccio also known as the Imperial City.
The attitude of the quarter moon as it followed the morning star could make one imagine it to be a tiny canoe bearing a bubble of light. Gradually the illumination drizzled into the valley far below and splashed up against the mountainsides. We too followed the morning star feeling our way into an embracing bay on Corsica's western shore. One by one the lights of the tiny town of Porto blinked away as the world about revealed itself. The mountains went from gray to crimson red and the Genoese tower guarding the river entrance followed suit.
Our Zodiacs dipped into the protected marina there and we were whisked away, high into the heart of the island. Greenery carpeted the hillsides clustering along the multitudinous rivulets that lent their name "Les Calanches" to the region. Eroded granite spires, columns and arches stretched high above our heads and dotted the mountain ridges beyond, down into the sea. Lichens painted the surfaces with abstract art for any who chose to stop and look. Where the rugged highlands leveled into a miniature plateau, granite hewn into angular blocks grew into homes and hotels. Here in the village of Piana we strolled about the winding streets, camera in hand, feasting on the diversity of colorful entry ways and windows.
Our activity mirrored that of the Corsican people. Historically they were mountain folk avoiding the wetlands and lowlands. But with the elimination of the malaria bearing mosquito and the influx of visitors, eyes turned to the sea and shore. White beaches beckoned and we spent the afternoon sunbathing, swimming and kayaking.
Napoleon made his start on this most beautiful of islands and as the sun disappears below the horizon we slip into his home town Ajaccio also known as the Imperial City.
