Well, there you are.
Sit down and enjoy the view while I write this up. We are anchored off of the north coast of Corsica. At Calvi.
A pleasant little fishing village. Falsely, but broadly, promoted as the birthplace of Christopher Columbus -- even though Napoleon actually was born further south on the island.
Once the property of Genoa, now French, even though the vowel-ending surnames in the cemetery predominate. And it was here that Nelson lost an eye during the storming of the Calvi citadel -- before he sailed into being a Naval Legend.
It occurred to me, as I was sitting here reading and indulging in some incredible Corsican cheese, that I am a fortunate guy. When I was growing up in Powers, I don’t think I ever imagined sitting high on the deck of a cruise ship in the Mediterranean Sea. Doing nothing other than whatever I choose.
And with none of the yang of responsibility that annoyingly often comes tied to the yin of joy. That is a rare day indeed. Or maybe even a rare month.
This afternoon, I am content. What better treasure could I offer you on a day like this?
Care for another bit of goat cheese?
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