A French island with an Italian accent and its very own spirit

Why moving to Corsica felt to me like crossing international borders.

After moving past the fear of sharing my first post here, I felt a sense of relief —yet choosing what to write next proved surprisingly difficult. With so many things to share about Corsica, I struggled to decide where to start.

I began by returning to my vision for Sip of Corsica, and wrote an “About” page, articulating what I envision for this space. Then, I reflected on some of the words I used to shortly describe this publication, especially this part: 'finding home away from home.' Why this phrase? After all, I’m French, and Corsica is part of France. Isn’t this just a move to a different region, not a different country?

And yet, as strange as it may seem, moving here felt almost like crossing an international border.

View on Corsica captured from a plane window during one of my return trips to Bastia.

Though Corsica is technically a French region, anyone who has spent time here knows it often feels worlds apart from mainland France. Corsica’s relationship with France has been historically and politically complex, and Corsican nationalism is still very present in modern society, with many Corsicans advocating for further autonomy for the island, if not outright independence from France. It’s not unusual to see slogans like ‘French go home’ tagged on walls, a sight that often puzzles my partner’s foreign guests.

Beyond politics and geographical distance, Corsica’s distinctive heritage sets it profoundly apart.

Corsica’s cultural identity is like no other — a place of generous heart and fierce spirit. There’s an expression often heard about Corsica: “Souvent conquise, jamais soumise” — ‘Often conquered, never subdued.’ This resilient spirit runs deep in the island’s identity.

One of the most striking aspects of Corsican life is its deep-rooted respect for tradition, family, and faith. These values are found in almost every aspect of life here, creating a culture where family and community come above all else. This cultural fabric reminds me of Italy’s close-knit values, yet Corsica expresses it in its own unique way. Traditions are fiercely maintained and deeply respected. Families are extended and deeply interconnected, and bonds reach beyond kin to include friends, neighbors, and the broader community. Being Corsican means being part of something larger than oneself.

At my partner’s family table, I saw the importance of these traditions firsthand. One summer, I remember hearing his father speak Corsican — a language I once thought was reserved for special occasions. Surprised to see me smile in recognition, he asked if I spoke the language. I didn’t, but my background in Italian helped me grasp the meaning, hinting at the linguistic closeness Corsica shares with Italy. Over time, I discovered that Corsican isn’t just a language of tradition; it’s spoken casually in everyday life, especially here in the north. In the streets of Bastia, it’s common to hear Corsican, even among younger generations, which shows how deeply rooted the island’s culture is. And one of the long-standing demands of nationalist parties and of the members of the Corsican Assembly — the local parliament — is to make Corsican a co-official language alongside French.

Faith, too, plays a central role, anchoring many of the island’s customs and celebrations. Even the smallest rituals, from Sunday gatherings to local festivals, feel imbued with a sense of history and connection.

I’m not particularly religious myself, yet attending a Corsican mass during the St. Joseph celebration in Bastia, where people joined together to sing Dio vi salvi Regina — Corsica’s national anthem — remains one of the most moving experiences I’ve ever had. As voices rose in harmony, filling the ancient stone walls, I felt connected to something much larger than myself. For a moment, the entire community seemed to breathe as one — rooted in the same land, sharing the same heritage, the same voice, all held together by this timeless hymn.

While years with a Corsican partner gave me glimpses into Corsica’s uniqueness, I never fully grasped it until I moved here. Living here helped me better understand the island and its people and start to feel that sense of belonging.

Through Sip of Corsica, I’d like to offer you a window into Corsica’s soul — using all the tools at my disposal to share glimpses of its language, values, traditions, landscapes, scents, and sounds that make it feel like a world apart.

To give you a taste, I’m including an audio recording from the St. Joseph celebration I mentioned earlier. Though recorded on my phone, I hope it conveys a bit of the profound feeling of that incredible moment — listening it after uploading it to the article gave me chills. Let me know your thoughts after listening.

A prestu,

Maïlys

N.B.: “A prestu” is the Corsican equivalent of “See you” or “See you soon”😉