Adventures with the French Foreign Legion


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Europe » France » Corsica » Calvi
August 16th 2016
Published: June 10th 2017
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We set off towards Calvi and pass a cross on a cliff overlooking the sea near the hotel. It seems that this is a memorial to 400 Corsicans who died offshore from here when their boat was torpedoed on 16th August 1918. Coincidentally it's 16th August today and someone has left a candle next to the memorial.

We walk down to the waterfront and then up into the Citadel. We read that the walls and towers were built during the 16th century, when Corsica was part of the Genoese Empire, to protect it against attacks by pirates from North Africa.

We go into two large rooms built into the rock which house a military display. We read that this is the headquarters of one of the regiments of the French Foreign Legion. We then realise that some of the military personnel we saw last night were legionnaires. They were dressed all in green camouflage gear, except for their white peaked gendarme style hats. I wonder why they wear white hats. This would seem to offset the benefits of the camouflage. They might as well wear white all over. At least then they'd be camouflaged in the snow. I've always been a bit curious about the French Foreign Legion. I didn't realise that it still existed. I'd always thought that most legionnaires were ex-criminals who couldn't get a job anywhere else. I also thought that they were all stationed out in the middle of the Sahara Desert. If I was an ex-criminal and could get a job with the French Foreign Legion in a tourist paradise like Calvi, I think I'd choose this in preference to being stationed out in the middle of a desert. I'm surprised they're not overrun with applicants. Maybe only the non ex-criminals end up in Calvi, and the ex-criminals are still all out in the middle of the desert.

We've noticed lots of references in the Citadel and elsewhere around Calvi to Christopher Columbus. We read that legend has it that he was born in Calvi when it was part of the Genoese Empire. Wikipedia however thinks that he was born in Genoa. Apparently at the time he was born, Corsicans had a reputation for being fairly shady characters, and supporters of the legend say that he would have been quite happy not to let anyone in Genoa know that he actually came from Calvi. Judging by the numbers of roads, hotels and others features here that are named after him, the people of Calvi seem to be fairly satisfied that he really is one of their own.

Issy says that we need a day when we do absolutely nothing. I translate this to mean she needs a day when she does absolutely nothing. I suggest that she rests back at the hotel while I hike up to the Notre-Dame de la Serra church, which is on top of a ridge overlooking Calvi. The Internet has gone down at the hotel, so I can't look up how to get there. I tell Issy that if I'm not back by sundown she should send out a search party. She doesn't think that this is very funny. I have a history of going off on walks to strange places and getting temporarily disorientated. I think I remember seeing previously that you could get to the church by walking along the coast road and then taking a turnoff inland up the hill, and that this should take a bit under an hour.

I set off along the coast road. The views down into the Golfe de la Revellata are stunning. There don't seem to be too many turnoffs inland, but eventually I spy one. There are no sign posts, but I decide that this must be the road that I need to take. The road is very steep, but I struggle confidently onwards. I'm puffing very hard. I can't quite see far enough ahead to know where the road is leading. I then realise that I can't see where it's leading because it isn't leading anywhere. It's petered out into a dead end. I'm not happy. I mutter some rude words. I think that I mutter them quite loudly. Fortunately there's no one around to hear me. I wonder if rude words are the same in French as they are in English. If so hopefully no one would understand them even if there was anyone around. I trudge back down to the coast road, and eventually come across another turn off, and this one even has a sign to the church. When I reach the top I've been walking for nearly two hours, which is more than twice as long as I read it should take, even allowing for unfortunate detours. I begin to wonder whether I've come to the right church. The views are beyond stunning. I'm high above the Citadel and the Bay of Calvi, and I can see the mountains in the very north of Corsica in the far distance. I then happen to notice a small walking track which seems to be leading straight down the hill towards Calvi, so I set off to see where it leads. It leads me back to Calvi, and very quickly; it takes about twenty minutes. I reward myself for making it up to the church by taking a refreshing dip in the hotel pool. I then wonder whether I deserved this reward, given that I only needed it because I went the wrong way.

The waterfront restaurant that we've chosen for dinner seems to specialise in coupe desserts. These come in bucket-sized glasses and cost about $20 each, and they all have liqueur in the bottom of them. Issy says that we should skip main course tomorrow night and just have these. Judging by the amount of liqueur, I think we could probably skip drinks as well.


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