Crossing

This bit of Mediterranean has been almost completely flat today, from horizon to horizon; just small ripples on gentle undulations. Even the wake of the large ferry, taking eight and a half hours to carry me from Toulon to L'Ile Rousse in Corsica, seems barely to have touched it. The movements on the boat were vibrations from the engine, not any rocking from the water holding us. I'm sure if I'd been swimming I'd have felt the swell and drag, but even four hours away from any land mass I think I'd have felt safe in the water.

Foot passengers were boarded long before those with vehicles came to compete for seats and I found myself a comfortable one near the bar on the ninth deck. Then listened carefully to the sounds of a long dispute in Corsican (Corsu) among three bar staff. Much, much closer to Italian than to French.

The main tourist season is over and the ferry didn't feel crowded. I was surprised to come across a large salle de conférence relabelled chambre pour dormir. Mid afternoon I went to test it in preparation for my overnight crossing back in twelve days' time. I'd assumed I'd be spending the night in a seat (without a neck pillow), but no, I'll be able to compete for a space to stretch out on a carpet. What an irony that the young ones roughing it have inflating mattresses!

We came into l'Ile Rousse port at sunset, when the dramatic rocks were definitely red. By the time I got near to tonight's lodgings, 35 minutes' walk from the port, it was dark and it took me a while wandering round the back of buildings to find where I was supposed to be. But I'm now in and settled.

Sorry, no time for commenting at the moment. I'll catch up.