As I explained yesterday, we've been in transition mode.

We're now done with the introductory bit of the trip, and into the Four-Island Foray proper. And the first island is Corsica.

I'll pick up from where we collected our bags from the flat in Toulon, and headed for the port. But I'll just note again that our apartment in Toulon was a wonderful place to stay; we really enjoyed its spaciousness, elegance, and indefinable feel-good qualities.




So... Off to catch our Corsica Ferries boat, which was due to leave at 2000.

We'd heard terrible things about this enterprise, both in online forums and by word of mouth from some friends we met up with recently. Dirty, unreliable, and offering poor food and unfriendly service: These were just some of the complaints. So when we received a message on Saturday telling us that rather than arriving at 0700 on Monday, as scheduled, the service (because of the weather) was going to call at Porto Torres first (that's in Sardinia), and only then sail for Ajaccio, with a new arrival time of 1200 -- well, we thought it was all starting to run true to form.

Actually, the change didn't matter that much for us. We couldn't get into our accommodation until 1500 anyway. And we'd booked a cabin. So we reckoned a few extra hours on the boat wouldn't cause us too much aggro. The only change we made was to book breakfast, which we seemed to get at a reduced rate. And having done that, back comes another voucher for EUR 35, to be spent in any of the cafes on board. Not bad at all, really. It's always difficult to understand the workings of shipping companies, but the wind had indeed been very brisk as we walked the coast yesterday, so it was plausible there was bad weather in the offing.

And after that, Corsica Ferries didn't seem to put a foot wrong. Once you get to the port, there's clear signage indicating where foot passengers have to go, and they keep you well separated from the vehicles. You go through security (no need to drag stuff out of your bags). You carry on a bit further, and -- still outside -- you're greeted by an attendant who zaps your barcode, and presents you with a little band showing your cabin number and your discount voucher. And then you march straight on board. No crowded holding pens. No up and down with luggage. Once you're zapped, you're straight on.

It's a massive ship. We took this picture today:


Having made it on board, you're greeted again by some folks who direct you to the right deck, where you'll find yet another attendant who'll unlock your cabin for you. Everyone is friendly; there's not a drop of the surliness that others have complained of. Later, there's an announcement that you can have your breakfast brought to your cabin, and we go up to Information to make enquiries. It turns out this service costs as much as the breakfast itself, so we decide we'll use our own two feet to unite us with our morning tucker. But nobody's nasty or supercilious about anything.

The cabin itself is quite spacious as these things go. And there's no clambering up aloft onto a vertiginously high bunk bed. Both beds have their feet firmly planted on the ground. There's a bathroom attached. Which even has its own shower. Not that I'm keen to try showering on a rolling vessel...


So we sleep well. And we wake to find we're in Porto Torres. We head upstairs for breakfast, which is perfectly adequate. Again, everyone is polite and helpful.



And we're off again. We watch the pilot boat nose alongside us (right beneath our porthole, actually). Out of the harbour. Onto the big Mediterranean.

A bit later, we lurch our way upstairs. There's quite a bit of movement on the boat by this stage, and we're glad we topped up with seasick tablets. There's nothing worse than having a EUR 35 voucher, and feeling too sick to use it...

A lot of the dining places have closed by now, but we find we can grab ourselves a voucher-supported free lunch at the bar. Two bottles of water, two coffees, two hot sandwiches, and two rather decadent cups of hot chocolate later, we're spent up. And it has been a dramatic meal. The bar is up at the prow end, and we're really slamming into the waves now. The waiter zigzags across to our table, and unloads things very carefully because "it's dangerous". And we've hardly had time to down any coffee before several swallows-worth have leapt out of the cup and onto the table. Classic, isn't it? It's time to eat, so there's turbulence...


We weave our way back to our cabin, and carry on with what we're doing for the remaining hour or so. We arrive a little late into port, but it's only a matter of a few minutes. And we're off the boat very speedily.

I honestly can't fault Corsica Ferries. Either we were very lucky, or they've really upped their game.

Anyway, it's now about 1220, and we can't yet access our accommodation. Always awkward, these in-between hours with backpacks. We don't really want a cafe, because we've lunched already, and in any case we don't want to barge around a cafe with our biffy luggage.

We try the left-luggage place that specifically says it's open on a Monday. It isn't.

So we find somewhere to sit. Outside the cathedral. Which they're restoring. Rather touchingly, a lady from the building opposite spots us, and comes down to invite us for coffee. Our bags have reminded her of the days when she was backpacking in Asia... We didn't accept (we didn't want to burden her for two whole hours), but we had a nice little chat, and encouraged her to visit New Zealand, where her daughter is expecting a baby.



We move on. Find a seat in the big square, opposite a kiosk selling water. And there we stay until the guys who are renovating the Town Hall start cutting up paving stones...


Another park. No seats in this one. But we suddenly spot a bench round the back. Not sure if it's a public space or not, but there's no-one around, and we plonk ourselves there until it's time to be let in.


And what we're let into is another really lovely apartment. Again, it's spacious and minimalist, but comfortable and well equipped; again, it's in an old building, but modern and streamlined.







Ajaccio has a superb harbour, and already you have a foretaste of the lumpy interior of the island:




So here we are. Corsica. The Mediterranean's fourth largest island. Population around 350,000. Looking forward to exploring a bit.