Frog with a Blog

This is a sea-cucumber

So we took a small airplane that moved a lot and got to Ajaccio. Ajaccio, along with Bastia are the only places you could call cities in Corsica, the rest of it consists of a few houses that they call villages hanging from a very steep cliffs, all of it looking beautiful but very sleepy.
We were quite excited about seeing our new home for 8 days. The trailer. Le camping-car. Which was to be renamed Bernard-Le Camping-Car (it rhymes in French). Bernard was to take us around the island and we would be driving furiously along a transparent blue sea, playing very loud music, singing and let our hair flap in the breeze through the rolled down windows. I have no hair left and Favourite Mr. B decided to shave his completely before leaving so there couldn’t be any flapping in the end. Plus, each of us was convinced that someone else would bring the CDs so in the end there was no music. There was a radio but Corsica doesn’t seem to catch any radio program apart from its own, so we had to suffer through Corsican out-of-tune traditional chants throughout the week needless to say we never really listened to the radio.

But it didn’t matter since we were on vacation and we had decided it was going to be great. And indeed it was. I’ll spare you the details of everyday and just tell you that we hardly did anything. When we booked Bernard-Le Camping Car, we got 1.000 free kilometers. We only used 300 of them. Firstly because driving in Corsica is not fun, winding roads along ravines with remains of cars and trailers at the bottom of them. Secondly because once we got there and after having worked so hard during the previous weeks, we all agreed this vacation was going to be sea, food and sun. Sorry could add sex in there, as a trailer with 5 adults in it, is not the ideal place for privacy. Unless you are into orgies between a steering wheel and a chemical toilet but that wasn’t my cup of tea.This is Bernard Le Camping-Car

We had planned to save so much money on accommodations since we had the trailer and, before we left, we could picture ourselves camping in the wild, conveniently parking our vehicle in front of the beach and organize fire and barbecues on the beach. The trailer-renting guy - who met us at the airport - quickly told us that camping outside camping-grounds was not authorized in Corsica unless we took the time to talk to the local village mayors and asked for a special authorization and then accepted to treat them to a drink. We are all quite sociable people but trusting the exaggerated prejudice on Corsican mafia and night-time bombings we thought camping-grounds were a better option. I know, so lame of us… shhhh!

Beautiful Sartène

So in the end, the trip was not as cheap as we’d planned. I should’ve known it since the rule when you travel is always: I brought too many clothes and not enough money.

Hiking along the sea

So we hiked along the coast, which was absolutely superb, swam in a warm clear blue sea and ate dried sausages all the time. The only problem was the jelly-fish, a small red variation of it that roamed the beaches and kept on chasing me. For some strange reason, all the naughty animals are drawn to me: jelly-fish, mosquitoes and children especially. I really don’t like jelly-fish, along with horses, rabbits and birds, they must be the stupidest and least useful animals God created. Although, the Chinese eat jelly-fish soup, which I once tasted in Hong Kong. But what do you expect from people who also eat saliva bird’s nest soup, monkey brain and sea cucumber.

Amazing Bonifacio (above) and its sea-side cemetery (below)

One note on the sea cucumber. A fascinating animal, not a vegetable. The thing lives at the bottom of the sea and looks like one giant hairy turd. It doesn’t have eyes or legs, it just is one long straight stomach. Basically, food gets in the one whole and goes straight out of the other. There is a little fish that always lives around the sea cucumber. When in danger, the little fish hides in the sea cucumber’s ass and feels warm and cosy. It pops in and out all the time. Pop pop! I learn so much on Discovery Channel, I tell ya!

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Corsica and the trailer. Well actually, I think the short intermission about the sea cucumber was a freudian slip for what happened on the last day.

Being the organized group that we are, before the trip, we assigned roles to the 5 of us. For example: One was to drive Bernard, I was going to cook, one was going to do the dishes, another one was to read maps and the last one was to give us orders and keep us focused.

Another thing we all agreed upon was that we wouldn’t use the bathroom since we were staying in camping grounds with all the shower and potty facilities. Moreover, nobody was really keen on emptying a chemical toilet full of compressed turd and other body fluids.

We all looked each-other in the eyes and made a solemn promise.

Hm… as you know, when you are 24/7 with your friends, you tend to discover how unreliable some of them can be. I won’t name names, but I can tell you that one in the group didn’t remember the promise they made and did both number one and number two in the chemical toilet. You know, it must’ve happened at night when everyone else was asleep with ear-plugs and too much under the influence to notice anthing. On the last day, the chemical toilet smelled of rotten sea-cucumber, therefore a very official meeting was organized around the foldable light-blue camping table. Who was the guilty friend? Who was the untrustworthy person with whom we’d never travel ever again? Nobody spoke then.

On the last day, we brought back the trailer to the trailer-rental office. We were supposed to clean it thoroughly and therefore empty the chemical production. One of the ladies said that she would do it. Such a heroic attitude was puzzling, she must have been the guilty girl. As she emptied the thing in a little ravine and spread the trees with chemical excrement and urin she admitted that she was the guilty girl. We were all relieved and gladly attended the emptying ceremony, the smearing on the trees and the slow destruction of Mother Nature, wondering how so much turd could be produced by such a small body.

Jean-Pierre Lamour, the only straight one of us, a real gentleman said he would help cleaning the chemical toilet with a water-hose that belonged to the car-rental. Unfortunately, he dropped a part of the hose into the ravine. We were desperate, what were we going to do? First we had emptied the potty in the ravine and destroyed nature with chemicals and now we had dropped a piece of the hose! Someone suggested that the one who’d dropped it, would go in the ravine to get the thing back. Jean-Pierre Lamour didn’t like the idea and claimed that he could not possibly jump in there with his Armani sneakers on. The question was then, who was willing to go into a ravine, through trees full of urin and stuff and get the damn hose back. That’s when everyone looked at me as I was pretending to do something else very important.
Compliments started flowing and everyone was suddenly in agreement on how strong and muscular I was and brave and flexible and really hot.
That last adjective activated my well hidden male hormones and I could almost hear the soundtrack of Wonder Woman sound through the Corsican evening air.

So, Yes, I went into a ravine surrounded by human production and got the damn hose back, one had held by two friends and the other trying to catch the hose with a fish net. For a few seconds I felt the cosiness that fish feels in the sea-cucmber’s ass, warm and fuzzy. I was crowned hero of the day and immediately asked to take a s.hower and change clothes. For that I deserve a big round of applause.
Call me Wonder Frog.