UK & FRANCE - Driving to Corsica & the CGT

Surprisingly, the journey home this time was relatively uneventful - no near death experiences, no people dressed as cows (see Beaune), just hundreds of French army vehicles heading north - presumably in an attempt to liberate Calais from the British (anyone who has visited recently will know exactly what I mean!) and three van loads of CRS who, with their wild psychotic staring eyes, could have been taken for a contingent of Millwall supporters if their silly cardboard hats didn't make them look like they work at McDonalds in their spare time!!

The thing about French motorways is that they are compratively quiet and you can easily find your mind wandering. This time, my attention was focused on the extraordinary amount of random shoes littering the carriageway. How does that happen? I for one have never come across someone who said ' you never guess what happened to me today. I was driving along when all of a sudden my shoe came off and blew away!'. Doesn't really sound plausible does it? And I'm not talking 2 or 3 random shoes here people - there were easily enough in the stretch from Villefranche sur Soane down to Marseille to be considered a small but well stocked branch of Stead & Simpsons! Recently I discovered that one of Che Guevara's jobs before he became a raving revolutionary was to collect odd shoes and try to sell those that most resembled a pair. He should have moved to France instead of Cuba - he could have made a killing!!

It was as I approached the port d'Arenc in Marseille that I was reminded of my recent panic over the CGT strikes and port blockages. The CGT stands for Confédération Générale du Travail, basically the General Workers Union, but the word 'workers' has obviously been used in it's loosest sense as they should really be called the CGG - General Union of Strikers. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not against unions per se, but what I am against are selfish lazy toads who are onto a serious cushy number with lots of perks and very little actual work, who don’t want anyone rocking the boat, if you’ll pardon the pun. This time, not only did they call an indefinite strike during the school holidays, but they illegally blocked all ports on the island so no one could get in or out, including freight (such as food and petrol), and even the other ferry companies from France and Italy. What better way to hold the government hostage as the island is practically crippled within a week.

Now the reason for the strike sounds fairly noble; they are protesting the cut to the budget for maritime links between Corsica and the mainland. OK, fair enough, but when you consider that Corsica Ferries also offers this link (with no strikes) and manages to turn a profit using half the workforce, I think you’ll see where the problem lies.

As I arrived at the port, there were 3 blokes idling in a little shelter, ostensibly to direct people to their ferries. However, as there are huge boards and arrows for each route, and as they never bother to speak until spoken to (and then they don’t bother to get up), it’s a pretty useless role. From here it’s 2 minutes to the CMN waiting area where you park and check-in. Five workers here chatting with each other, and one bloke to deal with the single file traffic directing them to the correct queue. Hhhmm, I see a pattern forming. On to the boat and a queue for the reception to collect cabin keys. Two people behind the desk, one to highlight the cabin number, the other to hand him the key that is within arms reach behind him. Disembarkation the next morning was no different – one bloke to wave the cars off and at least 10 at the doors chatting. I don’t think it’s hard to see why this nationalized company has yet to turn a profit and is supported by the tax payers – the same tax payers stuck at the ports each time they strike.

So what to do? Well as French union workers are paid full salary whilst striking(!) there seems little incentive for them not to. Plus the perks are fab, as anyone who has tried to eat in the restaurant of the Scandola will tell you when they manage to run out of meat and fish with only 20-odd cars on board (guess where the stock for some of the restaurants in Propriano comes from). I for one have chosen the cheery yellow boats of Corsica Ferries for my next trip onto the mainland. Cheaper, more efficient and never on strike, so up the yellows and two fingers up to the CGT!

UK - London & Chinese New Year

The day didn’t get off to a fantastic start, what with needing a defribulator to revive me when the ticket office told me how much it was going to cost to get to London by train, but I knew that my smiley Italiana friend from Sardinia would soon cheer me up!



It’s been a toss up between Sfizio, an authentic Caffe' Bar Paticceria in Holborn or Princi just off Oxford Street. We both indulged ourselves with scrummy Italian pizzas with a crispy thin base and melt in the mouth toppings of Quattro formaggi and parma ham. Stella got so carried away with the taste that she actually forgot the Italian for chilli oil. Luckily the waiter was a fake Italian so he was happy for her to order in English!



After an espresso so strong that it was more of a brush stroke of coffee paste in the bottom of my cup than a drink, we thought we ought to be a bit virtuous and walk off some of the delicious lunch. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves at the tea shop where you can but basically anything connected with tea; leaves, canisters, pots, beautiful cups.



I was seduced by some mulled wine mix that is tucked away amongst the rest of the packing as I speak – hope the sniffer dogs don’t get a whiff of the suspicious looking package...

From here it is just a hop, skip and a jump to Covent Garden. I love Covent Garden and to be honest, I’m not really sure why! I do like the old fashioned market stalls on wheels and I do like the live music, and on this occasion rather dodgy escapologist, but I don’t like inflated prices specifically for the tourists, and the rows of tat surrounding the old market place.



We wandered around the Apple Market and found some fab t-shirts at a not-so-fab price and some tempting Thornton’s Champagne Truffles at twice the normal price so we went off to look at the Disney store too as we are both big kids are heart. The assistant spoke to Stella in Italian and she was really shocked because she thought she’d become quite English – no chance! The hand gestures alone would have alerted a fellow countryman!

It was starting to drizzle, so we decided that high tea was in order and headed through Soho.



I’d forgotten that it was Chinese New Year and the coloured lanterns and intricate dragons adorning all the buildings were really impressive. I have never seen so many Chinese tourists in my life and it was fascinating listening to the mix of languages all mingling together.



We soon found ourselves close to Oxford Street which – as luck would have it – is close to Princi which was our second choice for lunch. Princi is a chain of bakeries from Milan (in fact I am sure I’ve been to that one) that do a whole range of squidgy cakes, delicious savoury breads, salads and pastas to eat in or take away.





It would have been rude to have just tea without at least trying one of the pasticcerie, so we indulged just a little to give us courage for the packed train journey home