I present to you, the northern villages of Corse. Not to be confused with the southern villages, we did not see those and they could be terrible, orrr they could be extraordinary… but I guess we will never know.
ON Y VA! (lets go).
Oh bonjour charming Grand-Budapest-esque-hotel!
A mark of a fine hotel, the placement of a lavender sprig. Make sure to look for ‘presence of lavender sprig’ next time your trawling trip advisor reviews.
Our dinner at “Chez Edgard” will go down in the history of ‘things i’ve eaten’ as one of the top five meals. Just seriously magnifique. The only choice to fret over was which type of meat and the rest was left to the seasonal produce availably and whim of the chef. If you ever find yourself in Corsica I would encourage you to stop by.
Excuse the soup bowl splash back and general unruliness (horrific ladle technique by our waiter). The red wine in shot was an absolute treat!
Sitting over to the right in a white casserole dish is a double serving of gratin. The most cheesy, fragrant (my guess is nutmeg) baked potato dish known to planet earth. I hang my head in shame at all the potato bakes that I wasted my time and tastebuds on (sorry mum yours is great too). It must be the double cream, or the type of potato, or the abundance of cheese?! Together it’s everything. On the car ride home I even made up a poem in homage to gratin. ‘Grat-in my belly’ may have been one of the lines.
Hello love my invincible friend..
Hugh was blown away by my understanding of the dessert menu. I happily conversed in french with our waiter and decided on the chocolate and pear tart and the citron meringue pie. A girl’s got to know her dessert menu, in any language.
The sun shone as we woke still full from over consumption the night before. Off we drove to visit the gorgeous port of Calvi.
I do adore a door.
I stared at this photo for a long time thinking what on earth is he doing. the number 8 it appears…
The curves on this tomato had all the other tomatoes talking about it…
dammmm…. so juicy, so ripe.
Really, really confused in this next photo. A New Zealand rugby merchandise shop in Corsica? Say whaaaaat? Hugh has no. idea. You can see it in his eyes. Mind blown.
After an hour of sun beachside in Calvi we drove back to our little village stopping along the way to take photos of cute things…
On our last day we heeded the advice of our charming hotel receptionist and set out to see his favourite village in the area – the Nipple village, or Nip Ville*
On this particular day Hugh was determined to get in the way of every single photo.
Can you believe real, honest to god, actual people LIVE HERE! Those lucky frenchies…
Leaving Nip Ville and the valley behind we had the rest of the day to chill at the beach, eat a heavenly seafood lunch and then board the ferry to begin our drive back to Paris.
Corsica may not have been our first pick, and it’s true that there’s no place like home but it was the most picturesque escape and the perfect option B.