Month: October 2023

Exploring Corsica’s Abandoned Homes and Ghost Towns

October 24, 2023

The Alfa Romeo climbed the winding road effortlessly. Kathy drove and I admired the landscape, occasionally grabbing the door handle when rounding a 180-degree turn with a drop into a valley on my side. But I kept my mouth shut. I spoke up only when Kathy stopped at a viewpoint, the front of the car facing a huge drop into a valley in front of us, pressing only the brake instead of putting the gearshift into park.

The GPS in the car showed the curves in the road ahead. Driving was slow because of the turns every few hundred feet, the narrowness of the road, and the traffic punctuated by numerous cyclists going almost at our speed. Turnouts helped us to stop and let faster drivers go by us. Overall, the drivers showed restraint; we could not go faster than fifty kilometers per hour.

We rented the Alfa at Figari Airport and drove to Porto Vecchio to shop for supplies to last us four days in the mountains where our daughter and son-in-law rented a house. The mountains began just when we left Porto Vecchio. Although we drove only just over sixty kilometers, it took us two hours to reach our destination. The scenery along the trip got my iPhone camera busy; the jagged mountains were stunning, reminding me of the Rockies. We drove through small towns like Levie, Zonza, and Quenza to reach Sorbonella, a town of 68 people, where our house was; the speed limit through the towns was thirty kilometers.

It surprised me to see all the boarded-up houses in the towns; shutters covered windows and doors. Where were the inhabitants? People sitting in street cafes were tourists, many had bikes leaning against their chairs. I decided to walk around Quenza the next day to check out the boarded-up houses. And what I saw confirmed what I had seen, most of the homes, even along the main street were tightly shut; the gardens were unkempt, and gates shut tight with a chain and lock on them. So, what gives?

I searched the internet and found one answer: there were 613 houses in Quenza (population of 235), of which 110 were occupied; 494 were secondary units (this is the expression used by the local statistical agency) and 9 vacant units, in 2007 (I discovered the French government keeps detailed statistics). The secondary units were mostly owned by native Corsicans who left for career or other reasons and kept their family home, according to some people I talked with in Quenza.

The next day we drove to Aulene (population 179), where we found houses boarded up similar to those in Quenza. According to French statistics, there were 421 houses in 2007, of which 81 were occupied; 333 were secondary units, and 7 were vacant. After a short walk around town, we settled into a small café for the traditional café allonge, next to tourists.

Holiday homes owned by people living in France and foreigners represent forty percent of all real estate in Corsica, according to local authorities. And, according to INSEE, the French statistics collection agency, there were 7000 holiday homes in Corsica in 1968, ratcheting up to over 71,000 holiday homes in 2007. Looking at holiday homes for sales ads in Corsica indicated that the desirable units are along the ocean, where, I assume, the foreigners bought. In the mountains, where we were, I assume that most of the boarded-up homes were owned by Corsicans.

The Mediterranean climate has attracted people to buy real estate in Corsica thereby elevating real estate prices. That made purchasing property by local people difficult. In response, the local government brought in legislation in 2014 to require five years of residency in Corsica for outside purchasers except for native Corsicans living abroad.

Talking with some French people from outside Corsica, we understood that the French people are not welcome to buy Corsican real estate, except when they are tourists and spend money locally. Corsicans are proud people and consider themselves different from the French people; their feelings towards the French have been demonstrated by setting fire to French-owned holiday homes. But the island remains a popular destination for vacationers.

Seasonal homes are shut down most of the time and there was an overabundance of them in the small towns driving through the mountains. With their shutters, they gave me a feeling of abandoned places, like ghost towns (similar to abandoned mining towns in British Columbia, Canada). It was a bit eery. Not only were there the shuttered homes but also the abandoned gardens and very few people on the streets except for cycling tourists. But we enjoyed the serenity of the quiet streets, punctuated by the occasional cafe along the sidewalk. The one grocery store in Quenza, one room, shut down between the hours of 12:30 to 4 p.m. There was no other commercial establishment here, we had to look up where the nearest gas station was seven kilometers away.

Navigating Airport Security with Metal Implants

Octover 20, 2023

Nothing is more frustrating than getting pinged at airport security checks. It has never amounted to problems except has a nuisance value; it takes time. I had three flights in a row a few weeks ago; going to Paris, to Marseille and Figari Airport in Corsica, and then returning to Ottawa. I had been pinged six times. Unsurprisingly, I had two hip replacements with metal in my body.

I had not found the secondary inspections onerous; the staff were mostly courteous except in Paris at the Charles de Gaulle Airport, where there was a huge crowd of people, and the inspectors were hurried and harassed. And I found the directions we were told to follow to get through inspections confusing. But each time the inspectors also patted me down before using a wand. That took time, sometimes up to ten minutes. “Take your belt off”, and “Take your shoes off”, I was instructed. And if I left some paper money in my pockets, or left my watch on, they took it from me and put it through the scanner again that was fifty feet back, consuming even more time.

I have learned to fully empty my pockets and put everything in the carry-on backpack, including my cell phone, cap, watch, wallet, and spare change. Although one has to put an iPad into a tray for inspection, nobody said anything about my Kindle, which I left in my carry-on backpack. Is this an inconsistency? I would think so, a Kindle is the same as an iPad. The passport and boarding pass were the only items left in the tray with the carry-on backpack, the rest was all in my backpack.

What concerned me was the time it took to be patted down and wanded, while my backpack went through the scan line moving slowly to where people picked up their belongings. Who knows, anybody could have picked up my belongings while the metal in my body was inspected. That worried me. My credit cards, money, and other documents could be stolen.

Since more and more people have metal in their bodies, some entrepreneurs could take advantage of the time it takes to get through secondary and pick up those people’s belongings looking for quick cash and disappear into the crowded airport.

A second concerning scenario is when an object in your backpack triggers a security issue and the backpack is taken back for another scan. Sometimes the inspectors use the wand to check the backpack but often they take it back for a second scan. By this time, your body is cleared through the gates or body scan but your belongings, and your backpack are brought back to the scanning machine. You stay at the end of the line where the trays are coming through the scanning machine, while your belongings are starting over. You are separated from your belongings for minutes. And the opportunity arises for people to steal your belongings.

A case in point was Kathy’s purse that triggered the inspector to pick it up and take it back to the front of the line going into the scanning machine, over fifty feet away from us. It was an unnerving moment when we realized that we’d have to wait for the tray with the purse to come out of the machine again. We waited and waited with the crowd around us, worrying when we’d see the purse containing Katthy’s money, credit cards, etc. It took twenty minutes to see the purse coming down in a tray towards us. The point is that there was ample opportunity to steal the purse.

I have no trouble with checking for metals in the body (except for the inconvenience and time it takes), which started after 9/11. But I would suggest that your belongings should always be close to you; the system should be designed in such a manner that your belongings are always visible to you.

Equally importantly, there should be a better system – faster and cheaper – than having inspectors patting down and wanding people. Could one have papers showing the type and location of metals in your body issued by relevant authorities? Yes, yes, I know, on this type of issue there should be international agreements among governments, a difficult but possible scenario. For example, one could have an ID card with a picture (like a credit card) showing what and where the metal pieces are. That type of approach would greatly reduce the time and cost of the number of secondary inspections resulting from the aging population with increasing hip and knee replacements.

Exploring the Diverse Charms of Marseille: A 2-Day Experience

October 15, 2023

My impressions of the city developed over two days in Marseille. We took a flight from Ottawa to Paris and then to Marseille with Air France, left Ottawa at five p.m., and arrived in Marseille the following day at 9 a.m. After spending a day in Marseille, we left for Corsica for ten days before returning for another day in Marseille.

I found some information about Marseille on the internet interesting. Did you know that Marseille is one of the oldest cities in Europe? (It was established by Greek traders in 600 BC.) That 85% of the heroin shipped to the US was produced by Corsican gangs in the La Panier district of Marseille in the 1930s? That Marseille has the third largest Jewish population in Europe after London and Paris? That 20% of the population is Muslim? According to Wikipedia, Marseille, a port city, is probably the most multicultural city in Europe.

The diversity of Marseille surprised me; a native of Marseille explained that many North Africans came to Marseille from Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia, and, in general, the Maghreb region of Africa since they were French-speaking and felt at home in the city. The people in the restaurants and the service industries were mostly from North Africa but I never felt they were immigrants; they were French people.

I thought that the French approach to immigrants in Marseille was more casual and probably much better in the long run, call it the melting pot idea, than the focus on differences among ethnic groups in Canada.

The city has a population of close to two million in the metropolitan area with a transportation system including metro and buses. We used both, since they were convenient, came frequently, and cost two euros a ticket, or C$3, relatively cheap.

Our apartment on rue Vacon in the Old Town area of Marseille was not ready for occupancy on arrival and the receptionist suggested we walk around in the neighborhood. Richly rewarded on our walk with musicians playing on the street, small markets to investigate, and getting used to one-lane streets crowded with people and motorcycles speeding by, we settled down for lunch at a table outdoors at one of the ethnic restaurants, that happened to be Tunisian. I had a wonderful lamb Tagine with apricots. Arabic talk surrounded us. It was a very pleasant atmosphere and I recommend a walk around the Old Town with your camera in your hands to take pictures of the diversity of people and street scenes.

Once we came back to our accommodation, a porter took us to our apartment, two blocks away from where we checked in, in an old, renovated building. We opened the huge front door with a fob leading to a hall where we faced a long and steep staircase to our apartment. There was no elevator in the building, but the apartment was spacious, very clean, and furnished with IKEA furniture.

Returning to reception to ask for maps and directions in the area, we chatted with the receptionist who said that he and his brother bought and renovated twenty-seven apartments in the Old Town in numerous buildings: is this a new model for an apartment hotel? A local we chatted with suggested the brothers renovated these units to make a killing during the Olympics next year; water sports will be in Marseille.

Using the maps, we got on a bus to take us along the Corniche Kennedy, also called the “balcony of the Mediterranean”, which runs along the Mediterranean coast.  The views were stunning, I had my cell phone camera clicking all the time. One of the pictures I took on the way was of the monument for Aux Heros de L’Armee D’Orient et des Terres Lointaines, a monument in memory of the victims of the 1914-1918 war.

I also saw Chateau d’If from our bus. This famous fortress, standing on a rocky island off the coast of Marseille, was immortalized by Alexandre Dumas in The Count of Monte Cristo as the prison where the novel’s hero was incarcerated before ultimately escaping. The castle was built by Francois I in 1524. One can visit the Chateau by taking a boat out to the rock.

Getting off the bus at a beach on the outskirts of the city, Kathy immersed herself in the Mediterranean Sea for the first time. In the evening, we meandered up to the Arab market with its bustling and amazing aromas. Searching for an interesting place to eat, there were many choices: Tunisian, Moroccan, French, and others. We ended up having a Turkish shawarma, attracted by the culinary smells. We were not disappointed – the food was delicious.

During the second full day in Marseille, we visited the Musee d’Histoire de Marseille. To enter the museum, we walked across a large square with panels explaining the archaeological finds when a guard from the museum came out and told us to go inside first to get a ticket. This was strange since the museum was free. Why go in first and then come back to read the plaques? But we followed the instructions and went inside where there was a detailed history of Marseille.

What I found most interesting was that the many podcasts in the Museum lectured about the damage looters had done finding and selling ancient coins and artifacts. I picked up a brochure that listed substantial penalties for looting, like thousands of euros and prison sentences. I gathered that looting was profitable and widespread until the government reined it in.

After the Museum we walked to the Old Port, a must for all tourists just to see its vibrancy, which was teeming with people and activities. The Old Port is renovated and is used by private yachts today. The world rugby championship happening at the same time, contributed to the wall-to-wall people along the Quai du Fort, the promenade along the north side of the Old Port.

One activity I enjoyed was sitting in one of the cafes watching the people on the Quai. Once you ordered your coffee, beer, or whatever, the waiters did not bother you, you could sit there all day. I usually ordered café allongé; an espresso coffee larger in volume than a standard espresso.

Cafes also allow you to meet people and find out what the purpose of their trip was. I met a fellow at one of the coffee shops from South Africa, who brought his college-age son to watch a rugby game and then travel to England to watch a professional soccer game.

At the end of the Quai, we entered Fort St. Jean. The ancient commandery (a district under the control of a commander of an order of knights) of the Hospitaliers de Saint-Jean, served as the departure point for the troops to Jerusalem during the Crusades of the 12th century. A chapel, church, hospital, and palace made up the commandery, which was completed in 1365. The numerous steps going up in the fort I found tiring. Besides, it was unpleasantly windy on top of the fort. But the view of the Old Port and the city was spectacular from the top of the Fort. The Fort is fully renovated and was worthwhile seeing.

Fighting the wind coming down from the Fort, we searched for a seafood restaurant. And we found the Au Bout du Quai Mediterranean restaurant where I had bouillabaisse and Kathy had scallops. The presentation of the seafood was picture-worthy and the taste was delicious.

Our rest after the full lunch was to sit on the tourist train that took us around the key sites of the city, some we had already seen.  Tooting along the Corniche Kennedy, we came to an abrupt halt and were ordered to get off by the police; the Pope was coming along on his way to the stadium to give a mass! That was the 21st of September.

Surprisingly, I did not see the Popemobile, I took a picture of the Pope coming along in a small, white Fiat, surrounded by police before and after the little car. After the entourage had passed by, on the tourist train passed by the Basilica Notre-Dame de la Garde, a famous landmark, sitting on top of a hill not too far from the Old Port.

We finished the day meeting our daughter and son-in-law and walking through a food court; Les Halles do la Major Restaurant a Marseille, with a large choice of restaurants, near the south side of the Old Port. We chose the one offering tapas. One will not go hungry in Marseille.

Why should you visit Marseille? For learning about its history, for enjoying its diversity of people, for taking photogenic pictures, and for satisfying your culinary desires. Although one could visit Marseille for one day and see the key tourist sites, two days would provide a more leisurely visit. I would certainly go back for a second visit.

Lessons Learned from Renting a Car in Corsica

October 9, 2023

Although tired from jetlag flying from Ottawa to Marseille the day before, we decided to take the early flight from Marseille to Figari airport in Corsica so that we could drive to our rental accommodation by the early afternoon.

I watched the airplane taxi to the airport from my window seat. Some people were already dragging their suitcases down from the bulkhead storage when the captain’s voice came on the loudspeaker telling the passengers to stay put until all the engines were shut down. We disembarked from the Air Corsica flight at the tail end of the small turboprop.

We hustled to the terminal walking across the tarmac – there were no mini-buses – to pick up our suitcases and rental car looking forward to the drive into the mountains where Jerome and Megan, our son-in-law and daughter planned to climb, hike, and canyon (the formal definition of canyoning is exploring a canyon via all techniques: including rappelling, sliding, hiking, etc.). They rented a huge house with space for us.

It was a short wait to pick up our suitcases and exit this small and informal terminal. The Hertz rent-a-car place was visible across the parking lot, and we walked down to their office. I entered the office with one client in front of me to be told to leave, they could have only one party in the office, the agent told me. I went outside, where another agent approached me and asked for my name. The agent searched and searched unsuccessfully until he discovered the reservation was made in Kathy’s name. So what? Well, the agent explained that she had to drive! That did not please Kathy at all! Corsica has a reputation for serpentine roads and blind curves.

The agent explained that I could add myself as a driver for 18 euros a day! That seemed outrageous, the euro has a fifty percent override on the Canadian dollar so we would be paying C27 per day for ten days, an amount equal to the total car rental cost. So, I asked, if could I cancel the original agreement and rent the car in my name. The agent said it would be excessive. So, Kathy decided to drive the serpentine roads of Corsica.

I used to plan our travel day by day in the old days and made all reservations for air, hotels, and cars. This time I decided to go on strike and have someone else do it for us based on a rough itinerary we provided. When it came to renting a car, we should have specified who would be the driver, but the travel agent never asked. For some reason, she identified Kathy as the driver. Lesson learned, always check out your final itinerary in detail.

The rental car agent handed the keys over and directed us to walk to the left in front of the office to find our car in a dirt lot. With no help where our car may be, we used the fob to see which headlights would come on to identify our car. The lights on an Alfa Romeo Tenali came on and the doors unlocked by the clicking noise I heard. An Alfa Romeo! Wow! That perked me up, I have never been in such a brand with its global reputation.

After putting our suitcases and backpacks into the car, I thought we were ready to roll but my daughter reminded me to check out the car for damages. I took numerous pictures of the bent back bumper to make sure that when we came back, they would not blame us for the damage and charge us. Then I thought why don’t we just go back to the office and ask for another car without damage? Well, back at the office the agent just said to take pictures and they would accept that as evidence. (We returned the car with no problem at all; the company had the damaged back bumper in their record).

Starting the car was another challenge; we could not find the starter button or a keyhole. A mechanic from the Hertz team came along to assist us. And never forget to ask where the filler cap opener is. We found there were two filler caps on this car: one for gas and another one for electrical charging – and we found a cable on the back seat – this was a hybrid.

The Alfa was appointed with plush seats and with the GPS speaking to us in French, Kathy enjoyed driving it, and I enjoyed watching the scenery. I am sure we could have switched the GPS to English, but we understood French and it was a good exercise listening to French driving in Corsica. It took us no time to figure out that “rond point” is a roundabout. Because of the serpentine road leading up into the mountains, the drive was slow, especially watching out for all the cyclists, motorcyclists, and car traffic.

It was unexpected that Kathy ended up driving for ten days in Corsica, but the Alfa was a bonus, it was a fun car to drive. I wanted to try it too, and as long as we did not get into an accident, I thought I would be safe, but decided not to take the chance. And a good thing, as it turned out, I carried an expired driver’s license! But that is another story.

Entering our Apartment in Aix-en-Provence

October 9, 2023

Talk about security! I thought we would get a key from a receptionist and go to our room in a hotel. Not so. We were registered at Les Suites  Du Cours in Aix-en-Provence, which we thought was a hotel – but discovered later that in Aix, at least, a hotel is a type of townhouse in the center of the old city, they used to be houses of the wealthy. Our hotel room turned out to be an apartment.

Let me start in the beginning when we received instructions on how to access our “self-registration” where we would be staying tonight. Although we had the street address, the instructions on how to enter our accommodation from the travel agent came the day Kathy drove from St. Remy to Aix-en-Provence, about an hour’s drive.

I was surprised; I expected a hotel with a lobby and a receptionist. Not so. We received an algorithm on how to enter this place via ten successive emails that mirrored a five-page manual on entering this place, the latter also sent via email!

Challenged by digital codes and fobs and keys in the instructions, I was apprehensive about our arrival; what if we could not follow the instructions and were left on the street with no receptionist? Although we had a phone number, what if they do not work at night or not at home? And would my French be good enough to communicate with them?

When we arrived at the address with two backpacks, after being lost for three hours, we faced a large, ornamental door, shown in a picture on the five-page instruction manual. The door at our address was in the middle of outdoor cafes, with people occupying all the tables, oblivious to the new arrivals.

So, we started by punching in the four-digit code to open the ten-foot-high historical, ornamental, heavy door; it clicked and we pushed it inwards. The door was very heavy with springs so strong that I had to lean into it to keep it open. Total darkness awaited us inside the twenty-foot-long vestibule, and I fumbled to find a light switch, indicated by three lighted dots on the wall ten feet away from us. We searched for the mailboxes, as instructed, opened the door, and looked up the next code to open the number 5 mailbox, our apartment number. We punched another four-digit code a few times with no success until I realized that the star after the four digits was part of the code and not the end of the instructions. Two sets of keys fell out of the mailbox for our next set of doors.

A fob was attached to both sets of keys and one of the fobs opened the next door, leading to the staircase and the elevator. This part of the building was also totally in darkness but by now we knew to look for the light switch. With only our backpacks, we decided to walk up the stairs instead of using the elevator even though the twenty-foot ceiling made the stairs long. The instructions were that only one person and a suitcase could be in the elevator at one time, and yet another key to use it. At any rate, our apartment was only on the second floor, we reasoned, and Kathy was worried she might get stuck in the ancient elevator.

Having reached the second floor, we tried to use the old-fashioned elaborately molded key to open the large, ten-foot-high ornamental door. We were tired and the key was obstreperous, it would not work. I was unsure whether I put it in the right manner and twisted it around in all directions. Finally, I banged on the door in frustration, expecting someone to be around to help us or tell us to get out of there but nothing happened.

Then the realization struck us that in France, the second floor is actually on the third level. The ground or first floor is the “rez-de-chaussee”. So, we hauled our baggage up to the next floor in the dark again since the lights worked for a short time only and we had to find the next switch on the next level. This time the old key worked. Finally, we arrived in our “hallway”, but it was pitch black again, and fumbled in the dark to find a switch.

In this hallway, several double doors faced us which, I thought would lead us to the kitchen, bedroom, etc. I heard voices behind one of the doors so I went there and burst in to let the intruders know that we reserved this unit. American voices greeted us in a friendly tone, and they said that they had reserved this unit for five days and our apartment must be behind another door opening from the “hallway”.

Three apartment units opened from this hallway and we, apparently, reserved one of these but we did not see numbers to indicate which one. Each unit had a set of double doors in front of the locked door units themselves – the unit number itself was a small number on the inner door, not visible from the hallway. The ornamental double doors, we speculated, were probably the original doors to be kept for historical purposes, and the inner doors, where our keys worked, were modern, lockable ones.

I was embarrassed for bursting in on the American visitors, apologized, and went to another door in the hallway where one of the keys on the second set of keys worked. Finally, we arrived at our apartment. The “hallway” served three apartments; I mistook the word hallway for our apartment’s lobby.

Once we settled into our bright place, we engaged in a friendly discussion with the neighbors and imbibed a glass of wine to calm our frazzled nerves, I reflected on the amount of security installed here. We needed two digital codes, a fob, and two keys to enter our apartment! Was this necessary? Is this overkill? Is the crime rate in France high? I did not know. But I thought the five barriers to mount to enter an apartment were beyond the pale. But perhaps when you get used to this system, it becomes simple. At any rate, we felt secure to leave our passports in the room when venturing outside.

Now you might think this entrance to occupy your hotel/apartment was frustrating, irritating and unnecessary. It was. But at the same time, to me, it was a puzzle to solve. It was fun. I used to do sudoku and now I do wordle. The satisfaction of solving puzzles was similar to solving this real-life puzzle to get into our accommodation.