I made it, shaken, but sickness-free to Bonifacio at last, and caught the last ferry to Santa Teresa di Gallura in Sardinia, only about 12 km away. Bonifacio is a beautiful city, right on the ocean with white cliffs, but I’ll have to come back to explore it another time. The ferry ride this time was more like I had expected, seats on the windy deck, violent rocking of the boat, and the smell of sheep from the cargo hold wafting up on deck. But it was only an hour’s ride, and with the sun-setting over the Mediterranean, a scenic one.
leaving Bonifacio, Corsica
It’s been amusing that all of the other tourists here seem to be European. After being one of zillions of American tourists in places like Paris, where they recognize an American accent and roll their eyes right away, it’s quite refreshing to be (seemingly) the only one. In Corsica, it’s the French (and the Germans, British, and Italians) who are walking around wearing sneakers and fanny packs and taking cheesy photos.