Driving in the Rain and Dancing Dames
A jetlag-induced early morning and a phone call from home meant we were up and out the door, firing on all cylinders by 7:30am. The weatherman had correctly predicted cooler weather today and there was a daunting 90% chance of rain. With thoughts of something freshly baked and a hot coffee on our minds, we meandered through the labyrinth of quaint laneways on a quest to find some breakfast. A delivery van was unloading, a woman was mopping the street (actually doing it by hand) and apart from the odd dog barking somewhere off in the distance, we were all alone. Shops were shuttered, awnings were down and not a soul was around. Since it wasn’t yet raining and it was still early, we opted to pay the town fortress a visit. Corfu Town is well worth protecting it seems, and boasts not one, but two, massive fortresses that flank the old town. The ‘old fortress’ was built in the 6th century (well and truly qualifying it for its name) when the Byzantines were ruling Corfu. It was added to later, when the Venetians occupied Corfu - which also explains the Italian-influenced architecture around the town. A huge Greek-looking church backing onto the sea was actually built by the English in the 1800s to look Greek. They did a good job of it too. It’s relatively brand new in comparison to the fortress that towers above it.
Passing through the grand entranceway to the fortress and excited to explore it up close, we were informed by the Lord of the Boom Gate that it was closed. We had heard a whiff of something yesterday, about it being a national holiday today but it hadn’t been confirmed. So what was the holiday for? It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to put to Lord Boom Gate but he seemed quite offended that we didn’t know. It’s the 1st of May holiday - the one they have everywhere in the world - but yesterday was a Sunday so they’ve moved it forwards a day. Derr. He gruffly mentioned something else about workers and celebrations but we had to Google to discover it was actually a day off in honour of the first day of summer. With all that confusion now out of the way, he turned a blind eye and kindly allowed us to wander around the bits of the fortress that weren’t tightly padlocked and chained shut. It was huge and impressive and as you’d expect, very old.
Thinking that surely the shops and cafes would be open by now, we returned to the town and found just one that was. The friendly local already seated al fresco, asked us if we were English. Upon hearing we hailed from the Land Downunder, he practically embraced us, beckoning us to join him with our coffees. His dad had lived in Australia for 20 years and he had a soft spot for us. How could we refuse? Nikolai, the toothless fisherman from Corfu was a character, the number of words in his English vocabulary only just nudging out the number of teeth he still possessed. He engaged us in the longest, most animated conversation you could ever have with someone and not understand a single thing they were saying. Most of his dialogue was directed at Rossco, who responded with lots of polite nodding and smiling. He leapt enthusiastically from topic to topic, appraising most of the nations of the world and their various leaders. There was talk of a dream that involved walking trees (Ross even clarified: “they were walking? The trees?), a tale of a miraculous haul of fish and an incidence of divine protection from a bluebottle sting (we think). He loved to sing and play guitar, piano and viola - but only in private - and his daughter, who may or may not have been disabled due to the fact that Nikolai put his finger to his temple and shook his head when he mentioned her, also shared his talents. He also told us he spoke 20 languages. I’m hoping he wasn’t counting English as one of them! All this I gleaned from Ross who apparently did understand at least some of what our new friend was saying. I on the other hand, remained completely oblivious.
Slowly the ghost town began to come to life but as shutters started rolling up, the rain began to roll down. Our plans for a day cruise around the island evaporated as the weather closed in. Buying a cheap umbrella and donning our rain coats, we took off on foot to explore the ‘new fortress’ on the other side of town. Built more than 1000 years after the old fortress, this was the new kid on the block, with construction finishing in 1728. Everything is relative I guess.
Doing its job perfectly, the new fortress was impenetrable, in part due to its masterful construction but mostly as a result of the pesky public holiday. We circled it on foot and marvelled at its size and structure before deciding to hire a car so we could sight-see in a less soggy way. Rossco took the helm of our little Micra and took to the right-side of the road like a duck to water as we navigated the slippery, winding mountainous roads down to the coast. One by one we ticked Corfu’s Most Beautiful Beaches off our list and they were spectacular indeed. Greek talkback radio is a little dry when you don’t speak Greek so we tuned into a local station that played everything from the Grease soundtrack (quite appropriate) and Led Zeppelin, to Zorba the Greek and some German polkas. Variety is the spice of life.
Our favourite beach was a mouthful: “Palaiokastritsa”. Even in the pouring rain the water colour defied belief. It was incredible. We were so taken with it we Facetimed the kids just to show them. A cute little coastal town with restaurants and resorts, it was all a bit sleepy in the rain on a public holiday but we were sure it would be pumping when the weather was warm.
The Greeks do love their syllables! Siri was keeping us very entertained trying to pronounce the alphabet-length street names as she guided us to our destinations. By the time she’d meticulously promounced every syllable, we’d almost miss the turn offs. Even the map abbreviates the street names because they are too ridiculously long to fit on the page. Some examples for you: Lochagou Spiridonos Vlaikou, another Polichronious Kostanta and Panou Zarifopoulou. The funniest one by far was Epar.Od.Troumpetas - Lakonias - abbreviated on the map and I can no longer find the full name, but so brilliantly annunciated by Siri, who’s Greek pronunciation skills were almost as bad as mine.
The Corfu coast is surrounded by mountains that dip down to the crystal clear Ionian Sea. Today the mountaintops were shrouded in cloud and the vegetation was punctuated by those signature Greek, tall, thin pines, olive trees and pink flowering Judas trees, providing their own pink carpets to stand on. We had lunch at pretty Ipsos Beach and Ross raved about his fresh grilled calamari. Going to the toilet in the restaurant, I was reminded again not to flush ANY paper down the toilet and instead to please put it in the BIN. Now Greece, almost as old as time; full to overflowing and famous for its ancient wisdom and philosophy since the dawn of time; the birthplace of civilisation no less… yet here we are in 2022, and they still haven’t sorted out their plumbing. Wiping and binning it just seems so unhygienic and gross. I have to chant to myself whenever nature calls: “don’t flush the paper, don’t flush the paper, don’t flush the paper”. Unfortunately sometimes, despite good intentions, my fifty years of a wiping-flushing routine just kicks into auto-pilot and before I know it I’ve flushed the damn paper - cursing myself and swiftly attempting to extricate the prohibited paper before it sinks and ruins all those pristine Grecian pipes. Needless to say some very vigorous handwashing ensues. Don’t flush the paper.
We were thrilled that tonight the rain had cleared and we were able to head out on foot to find somewhere to eat. The streets were a hive of activity under the indigo sky; pavement pounders out in force. The Greeks proving they are more of the night owl persuasion than morning people. The shops were all open and planning to stay that way until midnight. We found a great little restaurant in a thriving town square and felt at home as we sat beneath a bottle brush tree (who’d have thought?). A trio of roving minstrels played and sang their guitars and piano accordion as we made friends with a gorgeous elderly woman with two-tone hair, grooving to the music behind her walking frame and having the time of her life. She didn't speak a word of English but took the bread roll we offered her from our table. Bubbling with joy, she giggled out loud with us as she danced and munched. An older gentleman also arrived on the scene, armed with a bag of raw meat which he opened and offered to one of the resident street cats who was extremely excited by the gesture, much to his delight. It was the perfect evening to end our stay in Corfu.
