Back to Cagliari...Valencia

Franca. Unassuming at first, Corsican saint of all things good. She runs a simple hotel between the harbor and town of Porto Vecchio with her elderly mother. With no reason to help us except that we promise to stay one night, she makes calls for us, barking out demands in French. She is our film producer, James says.



Franca makes it possible for us to have an extra beach day... to get from Bonifacio to Cagliari in one day with public transportation, although it will be tough, and we have to keep our fingers crossed that buses and trains are on time and easy to find.

Back on the ferry in the early morning, James drops his British reserve, and, in front of all the outdoor ferry passengers, makes audible dolphin noises. He's been promising the whole trip that he would summon them, but I haven't seen any proof yet. Within a minute of his display, dorsal fins breach the surf on the starboard side of the ferry. They swim along with us for a few minutes, though James admits that they're probably scared of the large boat we're on. He repeats his dolphin performance in order to send them on their way. Sure enough, they retreat back toward Corsica.


(Grazie Matt & Gina)

Some of Franca's hard work is for naught. We arrive in Santa Teresa Gallura and Europcar saves us with a Smartcar.


(Grazie Bob & Jean)

We collapse in a heap in our Miramare suite, easily the most luxurious and beautiful hotel room I've ever stayed in. We buy some Sardinian wine, olives, peccorino...we shower the travel off our bodies, adorn ourselves in our white terrycloth robes and disposable slippers. We drink and rest in our grassy room with its ornate blue sky.

(Grazie Brian, Tan & Dan)

Back to the fabulous familiarity of Valencia, Katherine & Kev...Imogen & Scarlett...making and eating good food...watching Valencia pass by the floor length windows in the front room. Tomorrow. Home.