Becoming Greek in Corfu
One of Greece’s greenest and most seductive islands has been astounding tourists for hundreds of years. This crowning emerald in the Ionian see has a lot to teach its lucky visitors about what it means to truly be Greek.
Corfu is the second largest of the Ionian Islands, off the northwest coast of mainland Greece. A long and lush island of soaring mountains and sparkling coastlines dotted with ancient towns and a UNESCO world heritage capital city which was once one of the most formidable naval powers of ancient Greece and was largely built by the Venetians in a manner reminiscent of their namesake city across the Adriatic sea. With so much to offer from ancient history to spectacular natural landscapes and some of the clearest, bluest waters on earth, Corfu offers a quintessential Greek experience that few islands can match, and the infectious warmth and character of its inhabitants is impossible not to become enamoured with.
The people of Corfu know how to live well and appreciate the bountiful wonder they have right in front of them. Their easy-going but romantic nature is impossible not to appreciate, and their slow pace of life and gratitude for their surroundings gives them a sense of contentedness with life that epitomises the beauty of Greek culture and entices you to into the dream of being a little less busy and a little more Greek.
We arrive at the Island’s tiny airport in the dark of night. The sun has long since set over the verdant mountains to the north of the singular, narrow landing strip, but the air is still heavy with the heat of the day, cut through with a salty breath of fresh wind carrying the earthy scent of olive trees. Taxis are plenty and raring to grab the nearest tourist and set off. We hop into the back of a driver named Stefanos’ car and speed off to our accommodation. He tells us that the weather has been absolutely perfect all summer, as usual, and that his daughter’s latest batch of kumquat jam has been some of her best ever.
Among other wonderful things, Corfu is a specialist in kumquats – grape sized bites of golden orange filled with a burst of sweet-tart citrus flavour. Large swathes of inland farms sway with branches heavy with the golden and delicious little fruit and fill our dreams on that first night with saccharine expectations for the week ahead. We keep our window open to the sound of the sea gently dancing on the shore outside and wake early the following morning feeling rested and fanciful and hungry for adventure (and fresh pastries).
Our first movement is to head into the old city of Kerkira. The capital of the island bustles with busy narrow streets and bustling markets and tiny familial shops livingly filled with the freshest fruits and finest crafted plates and woven shirts in the Ionian sea. Old women drink Greek coffee in the square and gossip about the passing tourists while children in the park chase each other through the pillars of the main pagoda and around the trunks of blossoming judas trees, between the high walls of the city and the low walls before the glistening sea, blissfully heedless of the breath-taking surroundings they call home. We wander back through endless winding streets, taking in the rhythm of life all around us and enjoying the shade of the tall marble buildings and the cool breeze being funnelled through this hive like fortress city.
We buy some fresh peaches from shop overflowing with boxes of mouth-watering fruits, and plan our afternoon to make a beeline for the beach. With the sun at its peak in the pure blue sky, the heat of the city has us fantasizing about a refreshing dip in the cool blue sea, and we grab the nearest taxi across the island to Paleokastritsa, a cove-side village we had to see in real life to believe was real.
Colourful family houses and restaurants follow the steep slope of a green mountain down to a perfectly circular cove, ringed with white sand and busy with sunbathers and swimmers rubbing shoulders with fisherman and traders. We make a base under some umbrellas and make a beeline for the water. A short sprint over the hot sand before we dive into the cool blue water and bask in its clarity and the softness of its glassy surface and salty buoyancy. We swim a little further out into the cove and look down through the glistening water at our feet kicking to keep us afloat, and below them to the rocks on the sea floor catching the rippling light and offering glimpses of silvery fish chasing between them. We swim until we’re tired and take to the shade of our base for a welcome nap in the afternoon heat.
We wake up an hour or so later and the smell of freshly grilled meat from the beachside taverna wafts us in for dinner. A man who seems like the boss tells us he’ll give us the special, and promptly brings out what seems like one of everything on the menu. We feast on souvlaki and moussaka and pastitsada and wash it down with sweet local wine until we’re stuffed, watching the sun lazily drift down over the horizon, turning the sky bright pink and hazy. For our efforts in devouring the dinner, we are awarded a platter of fresh fruits, all grown just up the road we’re told. I pick up a plum that feels heavy with nectar and divine in its perfect form and reflect on the day we’ve had. “I think I was Greek in a past life” I say, rolling the perfectly ripe plum between my palms “I just forgot how to enjoy life like this somewhere along the way.” The last flash of sun over the water lets the sky fall into a lavender dusk, and I thank this island for an unforgettable day. If magic is real then Corfu is its home, and I am firmly under its spell. That night I sleep like a baby, dreaming of staying here forever.