After a marathon journey through Marseille and across the Mediterranean, I have finally made it to Corsica. I didn't quite consider the pitfalls of lugging my monstrosity of a suitcase through an airport, train station, up steps and across town. It took some serious mind over matter in some instances. That aside, it was worth fighting against sleep on the ferry and staying up to watch the sun set over wild, jagged cliffs plunging into Mediterranean waters.
I spent the weekend in Ajaccio. It may not boast the hustle and bustle of an average cosmopolitan capital city, but it oozes elegance and the late October sunshine bathing the beaches and town centre is the perfect backdrop for a weekend away. Sitting in a cafe one evening alongside the sea, studded with palm trees I couldn't help but make a sweeping observation: the women looked immaculate with acutely, angled cheekbones, blazers and poker straight hair somehow resistant to frizz. The men are skinny, sit smoking cigarettes and looking depressed.
In the absence of any willpower at the faintest sniff of a boulangerie, I ate a horrendous amount of bread and cheese which I compensated for slightly with a brief swim in Ajaccio's beautiful sea. But I'm not quite ready to embrace the laissez faire attitude to nudity just yet!
Now I'm back in Porto Vecchio, I can't think of a better way to get my bearings and work off the weekend of feasting, than a run.