Calvi on the Rocks, day I
The two Paris-Calvi flights are certainly the most perched social events of the year. In Orly’s boarding room, we slap a hundred kisses, colo atmosphere. The beard is a must, just like the Rivieras, essential for cool feet on vacation. The Airbus looks like a Tuesday evening at the Mansart, the fauna is homogeneous, musical… and identical. When you arrive in Calvi, you complain about the journey, the heat, the taxis that don’t come. But in the distance, the mountain massifs put balm in our hearts, and the first cagoles that pass remind us that we are well in the Mediterranean.
Suitcases unfolded for the week: we start our tour of the beaches. At the foot of the Citadel, a few evening djs try their hand at petanque, always in Rivieras. On the bay side, the festivities begin with serenity: at
At Octopussy, we find our batch of bimbos in lamé trikinis and local hydrated with rosé du cru. We pull the ballad to the beach Diesel In Casa, relooked in Diesel, where Jennifer Cardini sends an ultra calibrated set, followed by Ewan Pearson, just as dynamite. We taste the fish papillotes. There’s a spelling error on the map: they wrote “poison.” It scares us, but we eat it.
This first day tasted””on the rocks”” has hastened us. Before going home to get dressed for the evening concerts, we go to the U Fornu – the high gastronomic institution of the city – to have a drink with Citizens! who play the same evening at the Théâtre de verdure (de cactus, in fact). Cheers!
