18 November, 2007

Flying in the Alps and a night in Corsica

If there's one thing my dad taught me about flying, is was to never expect things to go as planned. Always bring a book, and some contact solution because you could be stuck at any airport for a myriad of reasons. So I was quite delighted with my keen sense of planning (having packed a toothbrush and all the necessities for an overnight trip, well except underwear) when I took a joyride through France only to get stuck overnight in Corsica - of course really, it was a pleasure to get 'stuck' in Corsica, where the temperatures don't require 8 layers of clothing. And the fact that David's uncle Pierre has a vacation home right on the sea and just happened to be on vacation this past weekend only added to the pleasure of being stranded on an island.

The plane: The Diamond Twinstar - confusing glass panel and all

Corsica airport, hanging out on the tarmac...
An aerial view of the shoreline:
What a shame, having to fly over such boring terrain as the Alps....
Corsica from the ground, or more specifically from Uncle Pierre's front yard...
Pierre's house:
Another view from his 'front yard', Pierre swims a lot, so it's lucky the sea is right there.
A brief explanation of why your camera is equipped with a wrist strap:
A view from the marina. I lost my camera a few pictures after this. I was being a nerd and taking my own picture when the camera jumped out of my hands and plunged a good 6 feet below me into the rocks. You can't see me here, but I'm standing on a big pile of boulder-y rocks that are pretty high off of the ground. After my camera bounced from rock to rock and eventually into a tiny hole and into the black abyss below I was sure I had lost yet another camera. Disgusted with my inability to master even the most basic motor skills, I resigned myself to the reality that it was gone. How I ended up finding it, I don't know. But when I did, I spent 45 minutes trying to figure out how to retrieve it. Do you know how frustrating it is to see your camera sitting comfortably in a hole screaming - hahaha you idiot, try and get me now?! I jammed myself into various positions and contorted my body in ways that a body isn't meant to go all in an effort to fit into the rocks and get my stupid camera. Which I did, by the way, obviously, get. I was completely inside the rocks, ignoring my newfound claustrophobia and hoping that there weren't snakes or other lovely animals living in there - if there were, I didn't see them. And then out I came safe and sound, with a camera that suffered a few major scratches but still functions like a pro, those Canons, they hold up. And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I have learned the hard way exactly why they put a wrist strap on your camera.