home > Corsica (days 1 - 4) At the beginning of September, Rebecca and I went on holiday to Corsica. We had the most fantastic time, and got up to all sorts, the decent ones of which I document here. Included in my narrative are the various quotes of the day. No explanations will be provided as I like to leave things to your imagination. Suffice it to say the more innocuous they seem, the worse they are. Day 0 - "Tooting this ain't", "The steering's a bit loose!". Rebecca left her drivers license behind, and soon proved to be an awful passenger on the winding coast roads - it seems the Corsicans don't believe in crash barriers on cliffs. R kept begging me to drive more slowly. I was more than happy to comply when we went past Camp Rafelli - the home of the parachute regiment of the French Foreign Legion.This is the view from the rear of our appartment in Calvi, as the sun set on our first day. It really felt like something out of Bonanza. Day 1 - "Which bars do the legionnaires drink in?", "Facile Tigre", "Le coup d'oral". Visited our first beach, and swam in the warm mediterranean sea... bliss! Mooched into Calvi in the afternoon, which is where this picture is taken. In the evening we discovered "Au Son des Guitares" the legionnaire bar that was to become our second home. The bar had a buy one get one free offer before 10.30pm, and you don't have to ask us twice! We thought we were in paradise, and that's before the legionnaires walked in... Day 2 - "Le Ow!", "Damn, I'm peeling". We didn't get in until 6am, and that's only thanks to the Legionnaires, who gave us a lift back to the hotel. Thanks boys! We were completely non compis mentis that day, and only just made it to Calenzana, and getting back to the bar was a bit of a struggle as well. We were heartened to notice that the staff had already poured our drinks when we walked in. This is a picture of Rebecca, with the lovely Roberto. We saw a lot of him that week, and I'm not talking frequency here. Day 3 - "I'm a slut trapped in a virgin's body". Finally made it to Le Fango, the trip having been cancelled owing to preceeding days hangover (guelle du bois, for those who wish to be educated). It was a beautiful river, with swimming holes, and fat, naked Germans. Bit bloody cold though, so we didn't test it out. This is the coastal road on the way back to Calvi - this is when I started to realise the enormity of Rebecca's phobia, as she gasped, and yelped at every corner. It was starting to get a tad boring.... This is the view over Calvi, from Notre Dame de la Serra - a church perched high on the mountain top. I think there is a connection with Napoleon, but we were distracted by the pompiers when it was explained to us. If anyone knows the significance, please let us know! Day 4 - , "Oh shit, I'm going to die", "Promise me you won't go any faster than first gear", "Shut the f*ck up, or you're going in the boot!", "I wish to see the moment of my death", "I'm sure this is goats' dick", "La Fée du Joie", "Zut, a-f*cking-lors!", "Avez-vous Le Disco Inferno?". No more room for explanations but, suffice it to say, that is me on the left - climbing up Mount Rotondo We got up at 7am to drive to the Gorge de la Restonica. We had been told the road through the Gorge was slightly hairy, but it seems the Corsicans are more adept at understatement than the British. We were presented with a 16km road, which wound up a mountain, with only enough room for one car to pass. Imagine our suprise when we came across 4 off-road vehicles coming the other way and we had to reverse down the mountain and perch the car on a 6 inch verge, next to a 150ft sheer drop, so that they could pass. I can still hear the screams eminating from Rebecca when I shut my eyes at night. If her body weight hadn't have been helping us stay on the road, I would have thrown her out of the car. Anyhoo... we eventually made it to the base camp and proceeded to climb to 1711 metres, where Lac d'Orient could be found. We took the "facile" route. If that was "facile" I will mange my bloody chapeau. Thank god we didn't opt for "Route Sportif", which was an option for at least a second. This is us, having made it to the top. Well OK, not actually the top, as that would have meant walking for another hour to the second lake - we figured if you've seen one lake, you've seen 'em all. Anyway, we had forgotten to eat breakfast. We did stop off at a shepherd's hut on the way back down and indulged in something that could loosely be described as "nourishment". The only real way to shake the dust from our bodies was the application of booze internally. Once again we trooped down to Au Son des Guitares, for a spot of Le Boogey. We do have some terribly incriminating pictures of Les Legionnaires Etrangere, but putting them up here would get them in far too much trouble with the regiment.