Bonifacio, Corsica
Some places are magic. They speak to your soul. But what makes them so? "To each his own," has been said and that is very true, for what feels comfortable to me may not seem so to you. But Corsica has had an effect on a number of us. Many have said that they would like to return, to bring families back, to explore some more. Throughout history this island has been a draw, one civilization replacing another, leaving remnants behind. To those with a military mind, the fingerlike peninsula at the southern edge not just suggested fortification but demanded that it be developed so. Within those walls a city grew, the quiet cafés a refuge from today's fast paced world. All this would not exist however if it were not for the land itself.
How would someone long ago explain the sky emerging from the night as it did this morning? Orion was still bright in the darkness directly above. A band of dawn's early light separated him from the dark cliffs silhouetted on the eastern horizon and from the billowing cloud formation that was growing above. Lightening flashed continuously illuminating it from within. Occasionally jagged tears were rent upon its surface, a window on the bright and glowing fires within. Was it a battle of the gods or a glimpse of fiery hell? Long before the chariot of the sun appeared from behind the horizon, pinks and reds and oranges shot with radiating blue streaks covered up the sky. Little by little details became discernible. Steep faced cliffs and cross-bedded calcareous quartz aragonite rose straight from the sea melding into man-made constructions that appeared to be carved into the rock itself. Deep and mysterious, a natural amphitheater housed strange shaped stalactites. Rectangular cuts told the story of wartime gun emplacements.
Initially hidden from view a narrow channel led us into a protected harbor, quiet in early morning but a fast-paced raceway as the world awoke. Massive walls dominated the view, encasing the entire peninsula and isolating it from the new town below. Narrow winding streets paved with granite blocks were like canyons between the towering buildings. Here and there a set of stairs, well worn by the feet of time, beckoned for exploration. Merchants set out their wares or swept their storefronts clean. Laundry danced on lines from second or third story balconies presenting clues about those who dwelt within. Signs of modern times mingled with the ghosts of yesteryear. Silent now, great rusting gears waited to raise a drawbridge at the Genoese Gate. Attackers stood little chance of penetrating here for gun-ports could be manned from all directions. Signs in French and Corsican helped convey the history of the comings and goings of man.
Are lightening and winds not a sign of stormy times? We started the day with fireworks in the sky and yet the sun shone brightly all the morning. In our isolated village a sunny summer day existed. But as our Zodiacs motored into the world again, the wind blew strong and we were christened by the salty spray. And still the sun shone on until we pulled away, leaving Corsica behind. Then the sky closed in and masked the islands around as if to draw a curtain on this stage of our voyage and send us on towards the Aeolian Islands and the Greco-Roman era.
Some places are magic. They speak to your soul. But what makes them so? "To each his own," has been said and that is very true, for what feels comfortable to me may not seem so to you. But Corsica has had an effect on a number of us. Many have said that they would like to return, to bring families back, to explore some more. Throughout history this island has been a draw, one civilization replacing another, leaving remnants behind. To those with a military mind, the fingerlike peninsula at the southern edge not just suggested fortification but demanded that it be developed so. Within those walls a city grew, the quiet cafés a refuge from today's fast paced world. All this would not exist however if it were not for the land itself.
How would someone long ago explain the sky emerging from the night as it did this morning? Orion was still bright in the darkness directly above. A band of dawn's early light separated him from the dark cliffs silhouetted on the eastern horizon and from the billowing cloud formation that was growing above. Lightening flashed continuously illuminating it from within. Occasionally jagged tears were rent upon its surface, a window on the bright and glowing fires within. Was it a battle of the gods or a glimpse of fiery hell? Long before the chariot of the sun appeared from behind the horizon, pinks and reds and oranges shot with radiating blue streaks covered up the sky. Little by little details became discernible. Steep faced cliffs and cross-bedded calcareous quartz aragonite rose straight from the sea melding into man-made constructions that appeared to be carved into the rock itself. Deep and mysterious, a natural amphitheater housed strange shaped stalactites. Rectangular cuts told the story of wartime gun emplacements.
Initially hidden from view a narrow channel led us into a protected harbor, quiet in early morning but a fast-paced raceway as the world awoke. Massive walls dominated the view, encasing the entire peninsula and isolating it from the new town below. Narrow winding streets paved with granite blocks were like canyons between the towering buildings. Here and there a set of stairs, well worn by the feet of time, beckoned for exploration. Merchants set out their wares or swept their storefronts clean. Laundry danced on lines from second or third story balconies presenting clues about those who dwelt within. Signs of modern times mingled with the ghosts of yesteryear. Silent now, great rusting gears waited to raise a drawbridge at the Genoese Gate. Attackers stood little chance of penetrating here for gun-ports could be manned from all directions. Signs in French and Corsican helped convey the history of the comings and goings of man.
Are lightening and winds not a sign of stormy times? We started the day with fireworks in the sky and yet the sun shone brightly all the morning. In our isolated village a sunny summer day existed. But as our Zodiacs motored into the world again, the wind blew strong and we were christened by the salty spray. And still the sun shone on until we pulled away, leaving Corsica behind. Then the sky closed in and masked the islands around as if to draw a curtain on this stage of our voyage and send us on towards the Aeolian Islands and the Greco-Roman era.
