Seasons Change

 

 As If the Sea Should Part  

by Emily Dickinson

As if the Sea should part
And show a further Sea --
And that -- a further -- and the Three
But a presumption be --

Of Periods of Seas --
Unvisited of Shores --
Themselves the Verge of Seas to be --
Eternity -- is Those --

   A summer that has come and gone full of adventure, sun, curvy roads, singing outloud in the car, camping, wild animals and beaches. I have promised myself that I will swim every afternoon in the sea until it gets too cold to do so and the leaves start changing color- an eternity. After the great theft that stole my documented memories and Oriol's third eye, we decided to lock up tight, pack our bags and head to a Mediterranean island known as Corisca, owned and conquered by the French with natives longing to be independent and not considered French. A Corsican, my friend, is a Corsican. Some might compare them to Catalans, Californians etc.

One map, one car, one tent, two sleeping bags and two souls searching for the unknown, history and to forget the past for a mere two weeks and that is exactly what we accomplished. We practically lived in our swimsuits and literally lived  out of the trunck of our very reliable Clio.

 

  We found lost towns, forgotten with time. Buildings that crumbled due to sun, rain, wind and time but just the same they were hidden with surprises and stairs that led to just about everywhere. 

 

Each curve on the road led us to an absolutely different beach or mountain and everyday was etched with a surprise of what we would find. It was all so surprisingly unexpected, especially since we didn't have any expectations and all we knew was we had 15 days to explore and to find a place to set up camp.

 

 

Our days consisted of letting time slip by as we swam, stared at the sea, whether it was rocky or a blue lagoon of clashing blues and greens. We watched the sun set in all its magical ways, ate fresh fruit from farmers' stands off the road and read the names of the towns that roll off your tongue: Aléria, Bonifaccio,  Calvi, Corte, Piana, Porto-Pollo, Zonza. I loved being co-pilot and having to call them out as I spotted them on road signs and got whiffs of sea salt, ancient olive groves, pine trees and the cantaloupe that ripened in the back seat.

 

An island on which pigs, goats, cows, porcupines, cats and dogs from strolls on the beach dominate the roads along with jaw-dropping views from the seat of your car. The sea a world of life shared by octopus, large fish, crustacians and very few people. If you walk just far enough, you find yourself on a solitary beach with no one but the fish to talk to!

I literally could not have asked for more. And that's exactly what it turned out to be, so much more than either of us would have expected. As our skins turned golden with each passing day and our camping adventures increased, from the camp ground next to the sea, to the vineyards of a German woman who had found Corsica much too much to resist, to the so called Jean-Baptist and his backyard turned into a campground  with amazing views of Piana, we easily adapted to our everyday and lived up to the moment we closed our eyes and slept. And so our summer came and went and the past was forgotten momentarily as we lived in the present turning it into an eternity of sun, sea and life. And so there you have it, my pitch on Corsica and why you should go witness where the sea parts.