A haven of peace: quietude and exquisite pleasure in Corsica
A whisper, a breath, a soul, the soul of the stones. Sculpted, cut, drawn. The soul of the wood, polished, modelled, tamed. The soul of the elements, the wind, the sea, and the Maquis shrubland of a city – Bonifacio, white and majestic. In this corner of the world, considering that materials and forces have a soul is not just a pipe dream. How could it be otherwise?
The 4-star hotel in Bonifacio resembles the land that raised it: bright, natural and wild. It is a complex world where clarity, gentleness, roughness and paradox live side by side. Luxury is felt, not seen. Authenticity can be tasted, as sincere as it is flirty. Serenity is experienced, intensely, profoundly.
The Hotel U Capu Biancu resembles the hands that created it, our hands. The fruit of a childhood dream, and made of warmth, energy and sweat. We have given it our life, our human and family values, our passionate spirit.
The Capu Biancu breathes, listens, shares. Let your spirit wander. Lend your ears... and your heart! You may discover some secrets…
Somewhere on the earth, there is a shadow that undulates to the rhythm of the tumultuous waters of the Mediterranean. It is the shadow of a thousand-year-old city – Bonifacio. This “old lady” of a city, which the ravages of time and the tormented centuries have made even more beautiful, more attractive, Bonifacio looks over the world scornfully, an unbowed and proud land mass. Bonifacio is white, yet impure, as it was once loyal to Genoa. Bonifacio the devout, brimming over with religious monuments, whose age-old streets, once glorified by the hustle and bustle of town criers, water carriers and other peddlers, reveal fantastic adventures. Bonifacio, whose history rises above the bastion, a history branded by the Great Plague of 1526, incessant sieges, especially that of the terrible Dragut the Pirate, and the dramatic wrecking of the Sémillante frigate in 1855. It is an infinite history whose echo bounces off the limestone walls and resounds all the way to the Gulf of Santa Manza, to the north. Listen, we can hear it now as it crashes against the other chalk wall, the one we call Capu Biancu – the White Head. A natural fancy that rises up majestically several kilometres from these binoculars. A sheer and aggressive peak that encloses the sea and reveals the shape of Bonifacio’s soul, reminding us that this is Corsica’s farthest southern territory, that here hides a very unique piece of land.