wwoof en corse
Wednesday, November 8th, 2006Having a wonderful time en Corse. In the mornings, making jam and chutneys, gardening, painting. In the afternoons taking a drive through the hills with the other wwoofer in an unregistered 1975 2-cylinder jeep. We have climbed waterfalls, hiked to sacred sites, and yesterday went swimming at Porto Pollo a quiet fishing village encircled by rugged, grey, sky-scratching mountains.
On the way home we were flagged down by the Gendarmerie (National Police), and fumbled through the cars’ papers knowing full well a certificate of registration did not exist. One gendarm asked our nationalities – Irish and Australian. At the word “Australienne” he let out a huge belly laugh and a heavily-accented English “Shit!” I thought we were really in trouble now. But the tubby, red-faced officer began talking animatedly about crocodiles, Peter Garrett’s political career, and Michael Hutchence’s suicide. After he exhausted his knowledged of Australia he farwelled us with a curt “Allez-y” (Go there!) and we were made to drive away with a collective sigh of huge relief.
Jyai