Lovely & Nice

Towards the back end of the 19th century, as the quaint small fishing harbours and coastal villages of southern France (Provence and Côte d'Azur) started morphing into the famed vacational hotspot now known as the French Riviera, Nice already was at its cutting edge: it had metamorphosed into a pretty butterfly, opening up to the pleasures of the sea and spreading its wings towards the future, embracing the Belle Epoque follies and later Années Folles (Roaring Twenties)... Its seaside mystique and splendour stretched beyond WWII, yet with less of its earlier upmarket gusto and panache, but this is a story for another time.

La Réserve, c.1900: a fantasmagorical - surrealist - folly that could have been dreamt up by Magritte!

Nice by name was Nice by nature back then: an almost pristine natural canvas of dramatic proportions, lending its coves and curves to architectural wonder, integrating the natural environment - its masterpiece - with style and elegance. The reworked landscape became imbued with a tangible frond of the exotic: imported Phoenix canariensis palm trees and other floral exotica that would lend themselves beautifully to the Orientalist trend of the times.  

Saint-Nicolas Cathedral, c.1935: testifies of the importance of the Russian community in Nice

La Promenade des Anglais would come to epitomise the renowned coastal seafront with dreams of odysseys to faraway exotic locales. A French Ipanema, a wide, tree-lined, five-mile sweep of a boulevard which was (and still is to this day) a destination point for leisure pursuits, parades and ceremonies, dotted with elegant Winter homes that later doubled as Summer villas, set in landscaped grounds and a seaview to boot.

Excelsior Régina Palace, 1912: fit for Queen Victoria

The properties unashamedly belonged to British and Russian aristocracy (and later the nouveau riche) who - it seemed - altogether led the way in terms of the resort culture before the French had even conceptualised it, at least outside their colonies. Progressively the Winter resort turned into a seaside resort with the construction of residential apartments, and leisure establishments such as luxury hotels (palaces) and casinos celebrating luxe, leisure, insouciance and joie de vivre. 

Nice, Jetée-Promenade, c.1900: an exotica showcase to itself!

In terms of turn-of-the-century architecture, we find a marked influence towards neo-classicism, with oodles of orientalism and a hint of Victoriana: Le Negresco Hotel is a perfect example. Or how about the (now defunct) Orientalist-inspired casino of the Jetée-Promenade? The concept was influenced by the Brighton Palace Pier, while Crystal Palace was the initial inspiration to the project instigator, marquis d'Espouy de Saint-Paul. The casino was designed by British architect James Brunlers. There is no denying that Brits shaped the French Riviera.

Nice, Jetée-Promenade, 1897: the Orient has landed!

La Promenade would be further celebrated with the advent of the automobile era as a G-spot of sorts. Any show-off driver and social climber worth their salt would make a point of showing up and down the Promenade. Success, it was thought, would rub off if only you showed up on the Promenade, unashamedly pretending to be someone you're not for a part of the action while secretly standing in awe of it all.

Nice unfolds from the Mont Boron, 1891

Only a small number of the original villas are still standing on the Promenade today. Some look sorry for themselves, locked in limbo, in need of refurbishment. Land value comes at a premium on the Promenade and it is likely that some of the older properties are locked down in hostile takeovers, expired leases, inheritance issues, tax conundrum or other legal and financial predicaments, ultimately pending a demolition order to make way for yet another high-rise. In the world of real estate emotion hardly has a say, even less so when the matter at stake is located in a sought-after, world-renowned tourist area.

Nice Opera, 1885: all about flamboyance!

Sorry to rub it in but as it stands today the Promenade has lost its lustre. Now it is easy for nostalgia to cloud one's judgement and I recognise that I sometimes allow it to take over my objectivity, yet I approached this particular subject with an open mind and visited the Promenade on at least three separate occasions that I can recall over the last seven years and everytime the lack (loss) of architectural cohesiveness hit me.

Promenade des Anglais and Palais de la Méditerranée, c.1930: cheek to cheek

Clearly building clearance took its toll. Relentless since after WWII, it has left battle scars in the form of an incongruous mish-mash of styles, some of questionable appeal. Cue the gutted Palais de la Méditerranée, whose Art Déco façade was salvaged at the eleventh hour... in order to be incorporated to the Hyatt behemoth. Elsewhere the Promenade is compromised by styleless cheap-looking condos and other bland hotel chains like Le Méridien (which replaced the stylish Hotel Ruhl). These modern structures may unashamedly steal the seaview; they however steal neither the looks nor the spirit of a time where elegance and refinement were the byword.

Avenue de Verdun, c.1920: just off the Promenade

It is understood that Nice City Council wishes for the Promenade to be a UNESCO World Heritage Site contender, and therefore is currently sprucing up its image. Who are they kidding? In this vanity exercise no amount of landscaping or carpark redesign will compensate for the negative architectural impact caused by waves of property clearances that made way for a non-descript, non-cohesive Promenade.

Nice from the Jetée-Promenade, c.1900: a view at your beck and call

The Nice seafront is certainly a tale for the unashamed: bold and beautiful yesterday, bland and brash today. What remains of its bygone golden age, if not found in pockets in-situ, will be appreciated pictorially in the comfort of your home. Prolific and talented French photographer Jean Gilletta (1866-1933) made sure of that by taking thousands of pictures that wrote all to themselves an anthology to Nice, Marseille, the Riviera as a whole, the southern Alps and further afield! He followed the muse and she never left him! His photography froze people, places and time for posterity, immortalised a depiction of Nice that is both haunting and promising, an epoch where all seemed possible...

Motorcar, c.1925: sweet and fancy!

Source: All photography by Jean Gilletta. Take a peek at his impressive collection... and sweet dreams to you! Hey, happy shopper: all the (repro) prints featured are for sale by the way!

'Bateaux dans le Port de Nice', by Tony Minartz (1870-1944)

Further Reading:

• [English edition] La Promenade des Anglais, by Paul Tristan Roux, published by Editions Gilletta (July 2016), 64 pages
• [in French] La Promenade des Anglais, by Nice City Council
• [in French] Le Casino de la Jeté-Promenade, by Jean-Paul Potron, published by Editions Gilletta (October 2014), 176 pages.

A Week-End Wonderweb 19-02 (Corsica)

More than just "une montagne dans la mer" (a mountain surrounded by sea), the aptly named "Ile de Beauté" (Beauty Island) commonly known as Corsica is multi-faceted in terms of scenery, a reminiscence of Italy, Switzerland, Côte d'Azur, Normandie, Ireland, Scotland, California and Argentina; follow the road less travelled for a discovery journey that will marvel your senses!

Sources (top page down):

• 'Le Tour du Cap Corse', first produced in 1923 by French graphic artist Roger Broders, is available to purchase as a poster print from Art.com and/ or via Amazon.com
• France for Visitors, Corsica > Nebbio > Farinole, pictured by Dominique Tison
• Corsica For Hikers, the scenic village of Evisa, near Porto, pictured by ©Pierre Bona (2005)
• Emma Keens, Aiguilles de Bavella (Sept 2007), via Flickr 
• Jean-Jacques Mattei, Palombaggia (Apr 2010), via Flickr.

La Baguette in Ten Bites (Part 1)

To mark La Baguette's 150th post, why not reminisce our blog's achievements to date while revisit its best bits in ten scrumptious bites!

For the purpose of the exercise, our measurement reference data tool is Blogger's in-built Google Analytics interface (although in our free time we would also refer to Sitemeter for cross-reference purposes, Sitemeter boasting much more in-depth measurement capabilities). Let us bear in mind that the G.A. statistical records made available to us do not cover the whole longevity of this blog (i.e. from 01/09/2009) but 'only' span May 2010 to date.

1. The Reckoning: According to G.A. this post has garnered the highest number of hits since its origins back on 01/10/2009. Statistically The Reckoning is a clear all-time winner and interestingly the only 2009 post to make it in the Top10 popularity league. I wouldn't have predicted such success for that particular post, but its topics (ecology, food import dilemmas) dig into the essence of La Baguette and the 'Intelligent Food for Thought' fibre that it is ambitiously seeking to promote.

2. Fashion Review - Doc Martens: Our second most popular post in terms of hits, it is forecast to more than trebble that of The Reckoning by the time it reaches the latter's current lifespan. With Doc Martens I certainly generated a short intense buzz, with over 30 unique hits within 24 hours, mostly relayed via my Twitter feed. This really tells you one thing or two in terms of product placement and branding.

A blog is a personal affair. But if you make it too personal, generating a following and keeping your audience interested can prove a challenge, unless you are - say - Dooce. On the other hand, talk about a product, a brand, especially a youth-orientated, high-street and/ or fashion brand, and you get up there in terms of exposure. Don't need a marketeer to figure that one out! In terms of hits, this could have been tricky in itself, considering Doc Martens is a much more alternative footwear brand than Gina, Manolo Blahnik or even good old H&M. But with La Baguette's mission statement being about 'taking one step back in order to stay ahead', we are clear about what we are about...

3. City Fizz: A post off the Top10 radar should still deserve a mention of course, especially if it is dedicated to Manchester, U.K, no less because the author spent a big chunk of her life there, i.e. 16 years. A city influences you, shapes you somehow, it can even change you. Manchester did just that. It certainly was an experience of contrasts and contributed to the person I am now. I have grown as a woman in Manchester, got my first proper job in Manchester, bought my first high heels and fell in them in Manchester, had some of the best times of my life in Manchester, and purchased my first home in Manchester. In an upbeat tone, City Fizz captures a city in motion, a dizzily changing cityscape that pushes you forward with the changes.

Wedding Cupcakes from The Hummingbird Bakery

4. Sweet Nothings: One of my personal favourites is a quirky and light-hearted praise of all things cupcakes and will still return as one of the Google results 14 months after being written, if you search for 'cupcakes'. Funnily enough I can still picture the day I uploaded the post onto the blog. It was a Sunday, the weather had been reasonable all day (no rain for once!) and I'd just returned home from Bruntwood Park (Cheadle) with Tickle.

I was immensely proud of this post and was amazingly serene at the same time (despite the fact that I was preparing for my move from Britain). Meanwhile I was daydreaming about the big guns from London's Fleet Street turning up on my doorstep with an offer I couldn't refuse, after stumbling upon Sweet Nothings online... I have since recovered from such a naive expectation. (But if you are indeed a media representative reading this, do get in touch!).

5. My Californian Psycho-Babble: I wasn't sure about getting too personal on my blog, but circumstances at the time got the better off me. Writing this article was cathartic too as I was trying to make sense of my new life in France and come to terms with all my reservations towards it. Not a favourite on the Google hit scene, but worth reading by any expat wannabe. Those types of musings have since spawned further articles, like this one or that one... (to be continued)

Paulo's Party

Lately we attended a delightful little party hosted by a cousin of ours, Paulo, a sprightly, young-at-heart 80-year-old who shares his life between the Côte d'Azur and Corsica.

Here, he lives in a beautifully-restored former stone barn built right on the mountainside, that used to belong to his grandad. This charming little 'dollhouse' is divided into two floors, with additional mezzanine space. The lower floor accommodates the perfectly-preserved olive press (pictured below), a monument of secular tradition that reminds the visitor of the working nature of the building.

The upper-floor, Paulo's living quarters, reveals a compact yet well thought-out mod-cons holiday home, complete with fitted kitchenette-cum-living area, where old family artfefacts cohabit happily with contemporary fixtures. The wooden mezzanine gives warmth of mood, almost like 'Nantucket-meets-the-Med'.

As far as I am concerned, the exteriors steal the show big time, with their handkerchief-sized rockery garden that is a riot of flowers, colours and textures set against the difficulty of steep terrain. Paulo took the challenge in his stride, designed stone steps and incorporated floral and garden features for added interest, from a decorative wooden footbridge to spotlights cleverly concealed within the shrubbery and climbers, to preserved original barn features turned into purely decorative focal points.

Benches, a grapevine casting dappled shade over the upper terrace and a collection of culinary herbs and tomato plants add to the charm of this un-ordinary garden and its poetic folly, an invitation for one's thoughts to linger into a rêverie...

Pressure Points (Part 2)

I've personally had the pleasure/ misfortune of meeting some of those. They treat you as an ally/ friend while you serve the purpose; they probably start not liking you too much when they realise that you are a tough cookie and won't allow them to take privileges over you, abuse your trust, or generally take you for a ride. Soon enough they'll click that you too are ambitious and serious about your job and progression, except you don't need to brag about it to the boss, you have principles, a personality and wit, you are not afraid of defending fairness in the workplace, standing by your own views and opinions, even if this might get you into trouble with a superior. You are loyal to yourself, and loyal to the business, but you don't need to lick boots to prove it.

Then beware the wrath of the ladykiller whose not-so-subtle plan will unveil sooner rather than later: to eradicate the competition (eh, that's you and me!) in order to take centre stage, to ingratiate herself to the boss to the point of following his/ her shadow, to keep you in the dark over the progress of key dossier information in order to trip you up, to casually spread carefully-thought-out false assumptions about you, your method, your work ethics, your choice of screensaver, your favourite chocolate bar etc.

I am not trying to imply that only female co-workers are capable of such callousness; so are male co-workers of course (human nature, eh!). Except with these women, the bullying is probably more premeditated, calculated, scheming, cunning and insidious. If a male colleague is doing the dirty on you, chance is you'll be able to nip it in the bud, confront him, discuss it/ raise your voice over it (if need be), and clear the air. Whereas with female troublemakers, the issue will be more difficult to trace, pinpoint and evidence. I partly blame those feminine lures acting out and hormonal flows fuelling bitchiness: a full catalogue of lies and pretences that includes false airs of innocence, manipulative explanations, moody pauses, pretend surprised looks, strong denials, the odd tear, the wobbly voice, the smarmy expression...

As if life at work wasn't difficult and challenging enough, the most likely enemy of today's working woman will be a younger female vying for the same post/ prospects as her. Without falling into the cliché, this is especially true in fast-moving, image-conscious, youth-orientated disciplines like the media (marketing, advertising, TV, etc.), I.T. and fashion. I have experienced it to a degree, although there is no point in asking the female 'culprits' to come up with their version of the facts as the strong feminine lure machinery would kick off!

Man, I know my worth, but if the boss is easily swayed by a girl ten years my junior, and rates sultry looks and lack of substance over experience, integrity and maturity, then so be it. I know who the loser will be, and it won't be me. 'She' can get the job, after all, if that's what she wants! There is one point in life where the wise amongst us will have reached a level of contentment and self-belief where they will feel comfortable enough in themselves to be able to enjoy their achievements, without a care for what those pesky co-workers think or say about us.

There will come the point where your self-worth will help you give a true meaning to your life regardless of office politics and the trappings of modern life, even if this might mean less money in your pocket (if you consider setting up your own business/ going freelance etc.) but with that oh-so priceless taste of freedom and wisdom in your heart! You see, Mr Neil Young, I'd rather fade away than burn out!

Pressure Points (Part 1)

Throughout our human history, women have faced all sorts of pressures, mainly as home-makers (cook, maid, seamstress, gardener, nurse and jack-of-all-trades), as wives and mothers raising their children. On top of this and increasingly their responsibilities got extended to wage-earners, whereby working long hours on farms, in factories, or as housemaids for the local bourgeoisie or nobility.

In today's Western society, women of working age still face intense pressure to achieve and succeed. On the whole, the challenges are pretty much the same as those of yesteryear, with the same expectations: to aim for/ achieve financial stability/ independence, while at the same time run a home, maintain marital harmony and bring up children. The average modern woman will probably be more career-minded than her elders, due to the fact there is a higher proportion of them gaining a university education and a degree. In the space of the last 20 years, Britain has seen its university student numbers double.

Today's young woman will also probably be more reluctant to compromise. Appearance will be her ultimate vanity, her priority, financed mostly on credit. After childbirth, she'll be happy to get a nanny and go back to the workplace fast, rather than become a stay-at-home mum. She'll also want to have fun with the girls, go out clubbing like a single girl well into her thirties and forties (if not beyond!), while hubby minds the kids - or while hubby goes out too, with his mates.



Not your average cruise: The Sea Cloud

She'll expect holidays, not necessarily the type of holiday her parents would have got her acquainted with as a child (stuck at home for two weeks with a couple of day trips to the seaside, camping down south, or packed off to Butlins or Center Parcs). The young women I know are well-travelled: they will fly off to Vegas, Cozumel or Phuket and these destinations won't even be described as trips of a lifetime! By the way, these are your average girls next door with a degree and an entry office job...

Certain women in the workplace will fight it tooth and nail to get noticed, snatch that promotion and/ or get perks. If jumping on the career bandwaggon means taking advantage of feminine lures, shifting loyalties, taking privileges, being selfish, sneaky and catty, spreading false rumours, incriminating/ walking all over co-workers, and taking undue credit, then my personal observations are proving me just that: some of these women will be ready to do what it takes to advance their career, even if what it takes means anything dubious and morally questionable. (to be continued)

In Concrete Terms (Part 2)

Corsica's most populated/ popular areas are in danger of becoming an extension to the Provence-Côte d'Azur sprawl: South Bastia (Furiani, Biguglia, Borgo, Lucciana), Costa Verde-Porto Vecchio, Calvi-Lumio, Ajaccio-Propriano, with the frenzy now reaching inland (Corte, Vescovato) and the more exclusive places of interest (Palombaggia, Rondinaria, Sperone).



Les Rivages de Calvi, advertised in local newspaper Corse-Matin (31/08/2010)

And with it, the sprawl mentality: a little slice of suburb in the sun, with or without a view, offering the trappings of urban comforts, plastic fantastic at heart, with no regard for/ no integration into the countryside or the countryside way of life. Instead those recent builds keep nature at arms length, concreted, fenced in, uninspiringly hedged with laburnum, privit or leylandi, or hastily walled by rows of breeze blocks. All alone in the world yet surrounded by it, individualists in search of the crowds who are the indirect accomplices of those greedy promoters and developers... For that little slice of suburb in the sun!

North of Bastia, property fever is also creeping in, along the Eastern Coast of the Cape, although the area has resisted pretty well compared to other parts of Corsica. Here and there we can't help but notice the residential carbuncle that, instead of morphing into the maquis, shows off its massive supporting walls and garrish/ flamboyant footballers' wives architecture from its unmissable vantage point (a parallel to those garrish Californian mountain-top villas that spoil the view and brag the brash!).

I also believe that some hillside apartment schemes (ex: in Santa Severa, pictured below) are equally at odds with the surrounding environment, while others (Les Jardins d'Erbalunga) have been keener to compromise by adhering to a more classic architectural style, using stone building materials, keeping to a low-rise format and tucking most of the development out of sight. Of course these little added luxuries come at a price for the buyer.

I am aware that there is a tangible need for housing, that tourism plays a crucial part in the island's economy (and necessitates adequate hotel, rental, leisure and transport infrastructures) and that we cannot turn back the clock (by pretending we are living in some museum!). However real estate must get real and make it more sustainable, by avoiding human concentration and sprawl polarisation. Members from regional and local governments must remain impartial and resist loopholes, abuse of power and personal gratifications that allow for illegal construction schemes to be erected with impunity. Also they must be provided with enough back-up from the State to help inland villages revitalise and fight desertification and for old/ derelict properties to benefit from incentivised subsidies towards renovation and modernisation.

By the way, Corsica has a fabulous built patrimoine (heritage) that is in acute need of a cash injection in order to preserve it and save it from that landslide slip into public oblivion. Heritage is not solely limited to housing, I am thinking about public, historical and religious buildings too. Within a 5-mile radius from where I live, I can easily think of at least 10 of such infrastructures in urgent need of a concerted intervention...



Source: Prints & Fine Arts (Roger Broders poster print)

You see, everyone seems to want the bright lights and the sea view yet not everyone is going to get them! The future of the island, the region, and the South of France as a whole is not going to be in the spreading sprawl. It is going to be in diversity of choice and offering. And in personal goodwill in favour of nature and future generations, i.e. without a selfish urge for that little slice of suburb in the sun!

In Concrete Terms (Part 1)

Foreword: I am not interested in taking sides with who-did-what-when-where-for-how-much. I am trying to act on nature's behalf and ultimately in everybody's interest - in the long term. I am not affiliated to a party or a group in any way, shape or form. I am only a nature lover in fear of out-of-control builds. I also happen to have spent 99% of my life in towns and cities and know how alienating they can become and how important it is therefore to preserve our natural environment...

Corsica vs. the great property debate... Countless official and non-official publications have exhausted the topic and politicians have relished it as their pro-or-con battleground. Economists, business analysts, media commentators, university lecturers, pillars of the local community and good old Joe Public have all expressed opinions, pointed the finger and done the maths.

Stories regularly abound in the local press about the greed and excesses of unscrupulous promoters and developers alike who are acutely aware that they have reached France's very last frontier of unspoilt spaces (last few remaining!), an Eldorado within reach that they are ready to take full-on for that last megabucks finale! Hear-say tells us that elected members of certain local authorities have eased up the legalities, under duress or willingly, to enable property development on their territory. Certain government-appointed officials seem to have reinterpreted the law in favour of property schemes, while local environmental lobbies are literally fighting a losing battle, but their determination has set a precedent by helping to delay a property boom that could potentially ruin Corsica's natural assets.

Meanwhile, as a thin silver lining orbing the black cloud of greed and corruption, Conservatoire du Littoral, a governmental environment agency, favours a softly-softly approach, trying to conciliate ecology, economy, eco-tourism and sustained development; so far 18,000 hectares of land in Corsica have been placed under the Conservatoire's authority, with a pledge to preserve the natural habitats under its management against (further) human degradations.

Experts reckon that in terms of property boom, Corsica is 10 to 15 years behind the Côte d'Azur, which in itself is particularly worrying as it indicates only a small time gap (smaller than I believed it to be). A drive down the French Riviera and satellite megalopolises will give you an idea of the extent of the spread! At night from sea, you can't help but notice a concentrated constellation of lights - like a bad bout of eczema - along the coastline. An almost uninterrupted sprawl links towns and cities, and you end up losing track of where you are.

Travelling down South late one evening, and stopping over at a hotel we had randomly spotted off the motorway, we had no idea where we had landed. If there were any signage, it was confusing. Even the hotel's literature couldn't quite convince us as to where exactly we were. It turned out we had reached Aix-en-Provence, but it all seemed a blur. No landmark, no place of interest, not a sign of historical value that would give us a reassuring hint. We had landed in a residential sprawl, a sprawl too many, made up of housing estates laid out in a crazy paving sort of design, interspersed with the ubiquitous soul-less shopping parks that drain life out of city centres to inject it artificially into those outstretched suburbs, and all interlinked together by a confusing network of ring roads, 'A' roads and bridges.

The next day, looking for a petrol station in the neigbourhood, we appreciated the extent of that extended suburb, with its mish-mash of styles, tiered constructions and conflicting planning policies. It wasn't difficult to make out that only 10 years ago or so the countryside (urban countryside) had flourished where we were now standing, and across the road that wide tower-block coming off the ground was going to be the latest man-made barrier between the green mountain on the horizon and the sea of bitumen and concrete where we were stood... (to be continued)

Land of Labour/ Land of Leisure (Part 2)

Undeniably (and despite recession still crippling the building industry elsewhere), the construction process is in full swing throughout Corsica and is set to enjoy further growth in the coming years as land speculation and property developments are hot potatoes on the island, fuelling riches and tourism. South of Bastia, in the Plaine Orientale, the plains traditionally referred to as the fruit gardens of Corsica, struggling (or non-struggling) land owners are selling their fields and becoming instant euro-millionaires (10,000 sq.m. sold for 1.2 million Euros earlier this year)!

We may agree or disagree with the way land is being put to use, however French agriculture and peasantry in general are struggling for survival, and the selling off of family heritage is not a carefree decision for the parties concerned: rather it is often a reluctant, last-resort, bitter affair, and perceived deep down as a personal defeat or betrayal. Currently the average Corsican farmer is burdened with 58,170 euros woth of debt*. In the same breath, the extent of this agricultural malaise translates into the fact that 100,000 farms are threatened with closure across France over the next 10 years**.

The Corsican landscape is changing indeed, and probably at a faster pace over the last 10 years than in previous decades. I do not condemn progress and evolution, but I do not condone the excesses brought to some parts of the island that now exude more the space-wasting sprawl plainness of identikit Provence/ Côte d'Azur suburbia than individuality, character and visual merit that would be associated with a small island that is known to be ferociously protective of its identity.

I do encourage however a more careful, yet less politically-biased, approach to development and architecture, preserving the Corsican spirit and upping the architectural legacy, in harmony with the strong visual elements of the surrounding nature.

However I remain in fear of the architectural bankruptcy found on the Spanish Costas, with Benidorm the ultimate insult to land planning and sustainability. I do hope that Corsica will never reach those lows, and believe that land usage and property development need to remain everybody's business (not just that of town halls, the DDE*** and speculators), whether you are a local, a friend of the island or a tourist.



Source: The Benidorm Skyline by Wikipedia

We need to exert caution as (to put is very simplistically) the land that once fed families and gave generations their financial independence is now being sold off for a quick buck and snatched by unscrupulous investors. We need to ensure that ecology, agriculture/ peasantry, property developments and the local economy derivatives co-exist without prejudice, now and especially for the sake of generations to come!

* Corse-Matin local newspaper (27/04/2010)
** According to lunchtime news on French TV channel TF1 (13/04/2010)
*** DDE = Direction Départementale de l'Equipement (French government planning body that controls and delivers building applications).

The Simple Life

Sincere apologies to my fan club, as I never imagined that my moving abroad would mean I cease all communication on my blog for over 4 months! Mind you, I had anticipated a couple of weeks of 'twilight zone' disruption maybe and then hoped that - come the New Year - I would come unstuck, settled in my new life as a continuation of the good bits from the old life. Maybe that's where I got it wrong: because despite taking elements from the old life, a new life is a new beginning and things are bound to go bump in the night, go amiss, go walkies, and bananas...

The Port of Nice, French Riviera

Just allow me to put you in the picture. Although it has been 4 months and I have been itching to write to you the minute I shut down my computer back in England, I am still virtually living out of a suitcase. All of my precious belongings are locked in storage, and I have been missing that very last frontier of man: my own space. My partner, our canine boy and I have been living at my parents (bless them) since that fateful day in December and tempers from all parties concerned have now been tested to their limits and stretched to the point of snapping.

Our move hasn't rhymed with smooth. We have encountered delays, breakdowns and meltdowns, and are still recovering from a particularly unforgiving winter (which involved an epic drive from the North West of England to the South East of France; where a snowboard would have been more appropriate than good old Romeo!).

Technology (or the limited/ lack of access to it) takes us way back to pre-Y2K. Our internet access is relayed via cybercafés (and I have only managed one monthly visit so far!), involving an hour's drive down a coastal (albeit scenic) road, exposed to the elements and the unpredictabilities from the sea, negotiating bends and precipices and generally jeopardising one's life with every turn. My own computer is locked up in storage like a naughty schoolboy, and I miss it like crazy sometimes (and its multiple functionalities that kept my life simple, clean and connected). Hence for now, while I cannot access it, I will have to keep the format of this blog (including photography and add-ons) bare. Moreover passwords, keycodes, account logins and pin numbers seem to have been erased from my brain's hard drive the moment I set foot on the island and it's taken me ages to recover most of them.

In other news, I've climbed the Annapurna heights of bureaucracy (from both sides of the Channel, may I specify). I have juggled with my finances like a circus act, and felt a right clown at times! I've checked my rights from my wrongs, dotted my 'i's and crossed my 't's, found my feet as I lost my head, explored windows of opportunities and looked for common ground with the local folks. I've given up looking my best, an impossible feat when you live in the countryside in a hands-on sort of way. You end up covered in scratches, nicks, muck, dirt or insect bites. Nobody important will see me (and you guys can't see me!), so frankly, who cares?

I've waxed lyrical about the benefits of orderly queues, timeliness, civilities, good service and careful driving. I've despaired at the taste of bad coffee like this is all a bad hangover, I'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be back to its normality: the soothing Mancunian rain tapping down my patio door, while my little dog is curled up at my feet on our cream sofa, as I am about to embark on an evening of light TV entertainment after a day's work at the office, and rip open a pack of my favourite M&S treats... Just me, myself and the dog, in that elusive instant captured in the comfort zone: not a care in the world...

And this was all given up in the name of the simple life...