Filitosa is a Stone Age marvel set in breathtaking Corsican countryside. The visitor walks through meadows containing a riot of spring flowers, taking in this engineering and artistic wonder from a long past age. Mysterious statues and stone dwellings challenge the archaeologist's imagination, all framed by forest clad mountains. Crickets chirp, birds sing, but the French think something is missing. Piped music. What better way to evoke the Neolithic than ensure that the guest is always within earshot of a din of panpipes and lutes.
What a useless shower of aural vandals.
Bonifacio. Another beautiful Corsican town, another white tourist road train. Careful observers would have noticed the air of ironic detachment I have cultivated for just such kitsch activities.
The first newspapers of the trip were purchased today. Unfortunately, it coincided with a campsite that had not embraced such modernities as the western toilet and 15 minutes of guaranteed peace to read them was deducted from my day.
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