"Les Americaines"

Bonifacio's future zombies
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We’ve spent several late nights talking with Flavien, among others, while discussing the nuances of French culture and discovering the differences between French and American relationships.  We feel bad though because we keep him up late and, unlike us, he has to work in the morning.  He has also managed to find the time to arrange for us to see how some of our favorite desserts are made by a real French pastry chef, and make us some delicious cocktails.

Not only is Corsica beautiful, relaxing, and full of interesting places, it is where we have made the most friends and met the most entertaining people. While Jennica has had a great opportunity to practice her French (as little English is spoken here), Laena has picked up enough French to understand what’s going on about half the time.  All of this comes in handy when hanging out with our many new French friends, and by new French friends, we mean 3 amusing middle-aged men, quirky and diversely French enough to be characters in a hilarious movie.

We think “Michoui” translates to Wine-e-que.

chestnut mousse - is it a chest or is it a nut? either way, it's delicious
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First, we met Philippe, who often reminds people of Mr. Bean, no doubt due to his entertaining facial expressions that he uses to compliment his broken English.  He is sometimes accompanied by his four children, who are often running around town without him.  His two youngest are so cute, they made even Laena briefly consider having children.  We hang out with Philippe pretty much every day, as he shares our appreciation for a vacation pace of living.

We met Daniel through Philippe (everyone knows everyone in this town) while eating at Flavien’s restaurant.  Jennica’s pretty convinced that somewhere down the line, she and Daniel share a grandfather, or at least kindred spirits.  Daniel has Corsican blood flowing through his veins, and lives in Porto Pollo for a good portion of year with his adorable German Sheppard/Tahitian dog, Lula.  Daniel does a charming and accurate impersonation of an American accent when saying “Seattle”, complete with a GeorgeBush-like face.  We spent an afternoon at Daniels house, eating Corsican cured meats and fresh olives, discussing various topics of intellectual importance, during which, Laena kept dozing off.  Heat + wine + limited comprehension of French = sleepy.

chez Jennica & Laena
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On Wednesday, we thought we got invited to a Barbeque but it turned out to be just BSing with old guys in the middle of nowhere (which is how it seemed because it was dark).  Here’s how things transpired (note, I have translated it into English, but keep in mind it all occurred in French – adding to our confusion):

Scene 1: It’s midnight at the restaurant

Philippe:    Do you want to go to a Barbeque?

Us:    tomorrow? Sure!

Corsica's equivalent of Granite Point - which is better?
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Philippe:    No, right now.

Us:     uh…. Ok.

Scene 2: We’re talking to Flavien at the bar.

Us:     We just got invited to a barbeque? at midnight?

Cupabia beach
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Flavien:     Oh, a Michoui, that is good.

Us:    What’s a Michoui?

Flavien:    It’s like a barbeque, with a goat on a spit.  Or a pig.

Us:    Oh, ok.  This should be fun.

Cupabia sandwhale
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Scene 3: We ride with Philippe to an unspecified location in the middle of the woods (about 4 minutes away) where we meet Philippe’s cousin, Brigitte, Daniel, Lula, Robert (new character), and a few other local regulars.  Much French ensues – none of which involved cooking meat.  We think “Michoui” translates to Wine-e-que.

Fin.

So, that’s our play.  We did have a great time at the “barbeque”, although we’re used to ones with more hamburgers…  This is the first place we’ve been where we are a decided minority in the tourist realm.  Most of the tourists here are French, with a few Italians, and just a sprinkle of other Europeans (Swiss and Belgians, so pretty much French – shhhh, don’t tell the French we said that).  We have reason to believe that we are the only Americans and perhaps even native English speakers in the region.  We have even gained some notoriety, as they have begun to call us “Les Americaines”.  It is wonderful, apart from the occasional moments of intense awkwardness.

enjoying a delicious lunch on Robert's terrace
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At the Wine-e-que, we made friends with Robert (“Rrrrohbehr), who has been a HOOT to hang out with.  He makes funny jokes that even we can understand, unlike most French humor.  He forgets names he just learned, he forgets his cell phone often (by the way, he’s on his 7th in the last year), and even as we’re writing this, he left the table and we think he forgot about us.  We spent Friday at “the rocks” with him, snorkeling and jumping off rocks into crystal clear blue water.  Friday night at the restaurant, he taught us some quintessential French sayings that give us an instant in with even the most snooty French.  We’re not going to tell them to you because that makes us more French.

Flavien treated us to lunch - carpaccio of poivrons
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The weather and climate here has been divine- warm enough to swim comfortably, but not so hot that we get cranky.  On Thursday, we ventured to Cupabia (one of the more picturesque beaches in the region) in spite of the copious amounts of smoke which seemed to be emanating from that direction.  When we arrived, the beach was clear, but the horizon in all direction seem to be shrouded in San Francisco fog.  The hazy surroundings combined with the naked old men and balmy atmosphere made us feel like we had died and gone to a weird French version of heaven.  After the first hour, all the smoke had lifted, and the “naturalists” were able to get un-obscured sun on all of their, um, selves.

Flavien's restaurant terrace
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We enjoy several pastries and desserts every day, and often cook pasta dishes in an attempt to recapture the magical deliciousness that is Italian cuisine.  Plus, the ingredients here are so fresh and flavorful, we’re trying to get it all in before we go back to eating American “food.”

Jennica has once again managed to fulfill her carnivorous desires for raw beef by consuming vast quantities of fresh carpaccio from the charcuterie down the road.  The butcher seems to find her affinity for meat quite attractive, as he tries to get us to hang out with him every time we place an order.  Though seemingly friendly and well meaning, he does not seem as charming as our other Corsican friends (maybe because he is not as advanced in years), and carries a slight resemblance to a Neanderthal.  Though the food here is amazing on all counts, Jennica proclaims there is only one place in Europe to get good Chinese food, and we’re going there next!

Jennica had fun snorkeling in the crystal clear waters of Cupabia
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We have strayed from Porto Pollo a few times to visit other towns in the area.  Bonifacio, the southern-most town in Corsica that we know of, was probably the most worthwhile of these excursions, in that it didn’t suck as much as Propriano.  Perched on chiseled white cliffs over the blue Mediterranean waters, the scenery around Bonifacio was gorgeous.  The shopping was pretty good too… for Corsica.  (reduced hours for everything, and from our home base the closest ATM is an hour away?!?)  We ran into a group of Greenpeace volunteers who advised us in French to get the word out about how important our planet is.  We tend to agree, so everybody stop ruining it!

Jennica trespassing on the grounds of her future residence
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During our wanderings we also ran into an American couple, who were traveling around the Mediterranean on a sailboat.  We have no idea how they could afford it, since he was in the Coast Guard and she was a stay at home mom.  In any case, our identity as “Les Americaines” was threatened by their presence, and so we had them killed.  We plan on commandeering their sailboat later on.