As the sun bursts over the mountains, we waited for our bus to leave.
The bus ride to Bonifacio was excruciating to say the least. There is nothing in the world, I don’t think, like taking a bus ride in Corsica. Insane drivers on hairpin turns. Thankfully no cows tried to cross the road. However one thing that makes the bus all worth while is the scenery (though the scenery would be as lovely, and the stress levels lower if in a car I think) – small mountain villages with one main street appear out of nowhere and then we plunge back into forest, and then all of a sudden we burst out into sea and sky. My favourite part of this particular route is Sartène and then after you pass one of the 91 Genoese towers with a secret beach cove below and a rock formation that looks like a lynx watching over the watch tower! Really beautiful.
We also had the (un)fortunate pleasure of taking a detour just outside of Porto Vecchio down a tiny rutted pathway and into what appeared to be a bus cemetery bordered by a wall encrusted with broken glass along the edges - charming. Mom turned to me and said ‘maeve… where are we?’ and I said ‘uh… I don’t know.’ And then hysteria kicked in. Thankfully we weren’t there for (too) long and we did make it in the end to Bonifacio and right on time!
So before we get to the photos, a brief history of Bonifacio because it’s very interesting and of course you can skip by this written bit if you so feel the need.
Bonifacio enjoys a superbly isolated situation at Corsica’s southernmost point, a narrow peninsula of dazzling white limestone creating a town site unlike any other on the island. The haute ville, a maze of narrow streets flanked by tall Genoese tenements, rises seamlessly out of sheer cliffs that have been hollowed and striated by the wind and waves, while on the landward side the deep clef between the peninsula and the mainland forms a perfect natural harbour. Separated from the rest of the island by an expanse of maquis, Bonifacio has maintained a certain temperamental detachment from the rest of Corsica and is distinctly more Italian than French in French in atmosphere. It has its own dialect based on Liguarian Italian, a legacy from the days when it was practically an independent Genoese town. The haute ville retains Renaissance features found only here, and with Sardinia just a stone’s throw away, must of the property in the area s owned by upper-echelon Italians.
It could be that Bonifacio’s first documented appearance is as the town of the cannibalistic Laestrygonians in the Odyssey; Homer’s description of an ‘excellent harbour, closed in on all sides by an unbroken ring of precipitous cliffs, with two bold headlands facing each other at the mouth so as to leave only a narrow channel in between” fits the port well. The unploughed land that Odysseus comes across inland of the harbour could be a reference to the plain beyond the Bonifacio promontory, and it’s also possible that the Neolithic tribes that once lived in this area were the barbaric attackers of Odysseus’s crew.
In roman times there was a village on this site, but the town really came into being in 828 AD when count Bonifacio of Tuscany built a castle on the peninsula. Like other settlements on the Corsican coast, this one suffered continuous pirate raids, but its key position in the Mediterranean made various powers covet the port. Subject of a dispute between Pisa and Genoa in 1187, Bonifacio eventually fell to the Genoese, who then proceeded to massacre the local population and replace them with Ligurians, to whom they offered exemption from tax and customs duty in their poets. Tow hundred and fifty families duly settled here, and soon the town developed into a mini republic with its own constitution and laws, governed by elected magistrate called Anziani.
In 1420 Alfonso V of Aragon set his sighs on Corsica and for five months his fleet blockaded the port hoping to starve the Bonifaciens into submission. Every citizen joined in the defence of the citadel, with clergymen, women and children flinging wooden beams, corks and blinding chalk dust down on the attackers – they even tried to demoralize the enemy by pelting them with cheese, an action masterminded by one Marguerita Bobbia, whose ingenuity is commemorated by a street named after her in the old town. Eventually, a boat was built inside the citadel by the famished defenders, lowered onto the sea from the cliff top and dispatched to seek help from Genoa. Seven galleons were immediately sent to help the Bonifaciens, but they were delayed by contrary winds. Only by donning the armour of their dead soldiers, ringing all the church bells and parading around the town ramparts, were the last survivors of the siege able to buy the time needed for their Genoese rescuers to arrive. When the ships finally appeared, shortly after Christmas, the resolve of the Aragonese was decidedly weakened; they decamped shortly after. The Bonifacien bluff had turned the battle.
Another celebrated siege occurred in 1554, when the town was recovering from an outbreak of plague that had claimed two-thirds of the population. Henri II of France arrived with the Turkish fleet, led by the fearsome corsair Dragut. The town held on through eighteen days and nights of cannon fire, and then a member of the eminent Cattacciolo Family was dispatched to Genoa to raise help. He was seized on his return by the Turks, who forced him to carry a forged letter refusing them the assistance of the republic, a ploy that brought about Bonifacio’s surrender. The invaders pillage the town, which was then rescued by Sampiero Corso. There followed a brief period of French rule, which came to an end when the Treaty of Cateau Cambresis returned Corsica to Genoa in 1559.
Thereafter the Genoese port enjoyed relative prosperity until the late eighteenth century when the French gained control of the island. No longer permitted their special autonomy, the merchants moved away and the town suffered a commercial decline that was reversed really only with the advent of tourism.
(c/o The Rough Guide to Corsica – turns out this book was well worth the $14 and a wealth of information!)
Now photos!!!!
Saint George – aka the town where the natural spring is that brings to us St. Georges spring water
Can’t miss the Midnight Discotheque in Propirano – looks fab
Another shot of Propriano where we took a good 10 min rest stop and a lady walked up the middle of the street through traffic of course decked out in her high heels and winter coat
Now we are in Bonifacio – we made it hooray! This is the view of the haute ville (aka upper town) walls from below.
Dominique – whom we met on our way up to the haute ville
The ascent called the Montée Rastello – the (what they call steps but aren’t steps) steps leading up to the haute ville
Mom conquering with glee the Montée Rastello
Stormy Sardinia – the first thing we see when we reach the top of the Montée Rastello
And then the cliffs with stormy Sardinia as accent
The haute ville perched atop the cliffs
Sardinia received a sunray while we were there – we documented the sunrays progress, giving Sardinia a ray of hope in the midst of the storm
It was a stormy day out there in Bonifacio – look at those clouds! And the way the wind is moving the water
Mom with the haute ville
Mom with Sardinia and the sunray
Mom giving me some pain du mort to make me want to mort!
I forgot about that: the speciality in Bonifacio (I think it’s a speciality in Bonifacio anyway I haven’t seen it anywhere else) is pain du mort – a big bun made with chestnut flour with nuts and raisins. The only reason I can think of why it’s called pain du mort is because it’s so good and rich that after you’ve eaten it you feel like mort-ing! Anyway on with the photos
NOTE: we found today (12 feb) a recipe book for Corsican specialties and Pain des Morts is in it! Cette brioche était prepare tradionnellement, le soir de la Toussaint, pour les morts qui revenaient dans leur ancienne demeure. Cette pratique a peu à peu disparu, ne reste que la confection du gâteau. (aka it was made traditionally for the evening of all saints day for the dead). And apparently it’s not made with chestnut flour!
Even on a stormy day the water here is crystal clear blue! How is that possible? And to the left you see what is known as the ‘grain de sable’ (grain of sand… oh the irony of it!)
Look at the sunray now – the sun is practically about to burn a hole in the clouds!
The ascent to the haute ville through the castle gates
Here is the entrance through the old castle walls and there is even a drawbridge!
Drawbridge mechanisms
Part of the tiny door series – let me in!
Beautiful little street (with unfortunate scaffolding)
Arches
I’m going to get in here if it’s the last thing I do in Bonifacio!
Typical street
Hand door knocker (also a Corsican symbol) – unfortunately blurry photo
Interesting covered staircase we saw when investigating the tourist office that was of course closed because it was lunchtime and the time period between which our bus arrived and left
The inside of such a stairway
Hi mom!!! Are you stuck?
A beautiful house! While taking this photo the owner, inside and on the phone, saw me photographing his house and came to the window/door/thing waving at us!
Another typical street
Little door with ornate carving
Doors, stairs and cage like things. The stairs into the apartments here are out of this world – incredibly steep!
Hello we’re here in Bonifacio
Guess what? A typical street!
Mom saying, “take a picture of these stairs or I’ll get ya!” or “what is she doing taking another photo of stairs!!”
Pretty doors and grill work above the doors
Another ornate carving over a door
And then we saw this cool guy in the wall!
Guitar for Tom
As you can see the sunray has grown substantially and you can even see a village on the banks of Sardinia now! (Or you could in real life if you can’t in this photo) we also saw a little cat peeking up at us from the edge of the cliff – we don’t know how she got down there and then she ran away!
Door, curvy thing, plant and scaffolding
Church steeple
Typical streets
Another door hand knocker with Latin inscription in stone above
Zzzzzzzzzzzztttt!
The harbour from above. If you look closely you can see our bus below with our horrible driver stocked up inside.
Dramatic exit!
As we descended the Montée Rastello I said “well isn’t that pretty!’ and mom said ‘why yes it is let’s take a photo’ and I took out the camera and snapped a shot and one of us said ‘I just know tonight when we get home we’ll look at that and say ‘oh yeah I remember that it was pretty!’’ and that we did!
The harbour and the haute ville from below. Goodbye Bonifacio!
From here we boarded our mini bus and the driver even managed to try to smile at us as we got on. Then five Spanish or possibly Italian (I think they were Spanish but there was some Italian words flying or maybe it was Corsican who knows for sure!) traveller’s got on the bus. And here our voyage from hell began.
At some point I’m not sure where in the trip (that took nearly four hours each way) one Spanish traveller said to the driver could he please slow down and the driver, being a Corsican of course was insulted and they started bickering (in French/Italian/Spanish/Corsican? Or something)
Driver: hey I’ve only got an hour!
Spaniard: Hey I’ve only got my life
Lady in front: Basta
Then later again as the driver had sped up and was going faster and faster around the corners and we were all gripping our seats for dear life as he passed cars going around hair pin turns etc… the Spaniard said again
“you are a good driver but slower please slower”
driver: it’s too fast for you!
Spaniard: yes slower please
Driver: ok that’s enough that’s enough or you’re getting off when we get to Sartene
Spaniard: I’m not insulting you I’m asking you to slow down
Lady: Basta basta!!!
Driver: you have accidents where you are from too! and I’ve been driving for 30 years Basta Basta
And then yelling and swerving ensued in Corsican and God only knows what other languages.
In Sartene he got out of the bus and hopefully cooled down but still drove maniacally all the way back to Ajaccio. Our buttocks’ were clenched mightily when we finally reached the bus terminal in Ajaccio and from there our legs started going and didn’t stop till we got to Champion the grocery store where we stocked up on necissities!
So lesson to be learned: do not insult Corsican bus driver while he is driving fast and maybe don’t bother taking the bus!
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