FROM A SHIP'S BLOG

 A gentle jaunt along the sublime north-east coast of Corfu

No, these are not photos from Thailand or the Caribbean - they are from the northeast coast of Corfu where I am fortunate enough to live.

Is there anything more relaxing than a leisurely cruise along a beautiful coastline in a boat that is small enough to get into the nooks and crannies of a rocky shoreline?

That is, as long as you are not under the command of a skipper who thinks he is Captain Bligh.

Fortunately ours is always pretty laid-back and his only desire is to please his passengers. As my son, I suppose he has to treat me as a cherished client, but I do not hesitate to recommend him here, not only as a skipper, but as the proprietor of one of the best boat chandleries in Corfu - Boatman's World at Kontokali! He and Joanna know their stuff!

Row, row, row your boat,

Gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,

Life is but a dream.

 However you choose to interpret the words of this old rhyme, there is no denying that to sail, if not actually row, along the north-east coast of Corfu is to sail into a dream. And not only into a dream – into a reminder that we are never quite done with the past.

Corfu was a part of the Venetian Empire for almost 400 years, and today we cannot but recall that fact wherever we go on, or around,  this splendid island.

You may think that you know Corfu, but until you have sailed along its shores you cannot truly say that. Yachtsmen say that the coastline of Corfu is one of the most beautiful in the world and few would argue with that. There is such surprising variety in its scenery, such a pleasing harmony between the work of Man and of Nature. Seen from a small boat, the most blatantly ugly modern hotels (of which we have remarkably few in Corfu) are reduced to a regrettable but forgettable blot on the landscape, while the grace and charm of older buildings put things into perspective.

Now is the time to make such a journey, before the bays and coves of Corfu become cluttered with pleasure-craft, before the water-side tavernas become crowded, before the beaches lose their sparkling innocence.
It is the ideal way to escape from the heat, and if you are not lucky enough to own your own boat, then borrow one, rent one, or wheedle your way into some skipper's heart and persuade him to take you with him.

Come with me, and let’s sail merrily into that dream..

We could set off this time from the town of Corfu. We did so on a Benetteau Oceanis 461.

Lying off the east coast of Corfu, visible from the town, are two small islands – three if you count the solitary slab of rock called Brouzada. (It is also called Kaloyeros (Monk) by the locals, or Punk Rock by some of the British, as it appears to have a tuft of punk-style hair atop its otherwise bare rock.) Many a less-experienced sailor, taking part in one of  the regular off-shore races, has been led astray by the sheer sides of the rock and run aground on the shallow reef that lurks below the pale, tell-tale aquamarine sea that surrounds the rock.

The other two islands are called Vido and Lazaretto. Despite their small size, they carry an enormous amount of historical weight and human tragedy  upon their pine-clad shoulders,

Beach on Vido

Vido, in Venetian times, was connected by tunnels with the town of Corfu, and convicted criminals, after trial in the town, would be led via the tunnels to imprisonment on the island.

 In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it bristled with fortifications, Venetian. French and then British. But on the ceding of the Ionian Islands to Greece, the British blew up almost everything on the island, including a very ancient Byzantine church. Today, massive chunks of masonry are largely hidden by the abundant foliage of the island’s many trees and bushes. Rabbits, goats and pheasants, a reminder that this was for a while a Bird and Wild Life Sanctuary, roam freely and are quite tame. Vido was for a time a reformatory and as such was out of bounds, but now it welcomes visitors with its beautiful, tranquil scenery and unspoilt beaches.

It is perhaps best known for its Serbian Mausoleum and monument, commemorating the Serbian soldiers and civilians who were hospitalized on the island in 1915, many of whom subsequently died there.

The even smaller island of Lazaretto, also has a tragic history. The Venetians established a quarantine station here, for ships bound for Corfu. They were the first to establish the quarantine system, in the fifteenth century, and their stringent rules did much to lessen the spread of the plague epidemics that rampaged across Europe in those times. There was also a ‘leprosarium’ on Lazaretto, where victims of contagious diseases such as leprosy would be confined.

During the Second World War, and also between 1947 and 1949, a great many Greek Resistance fighters and political prisoners were executed on the island.

Hidden amongst mature trees, on the Corfiot hillside overlooking Lazaretto, is one of the famous ‘Durrell houses’, so-called because in the nineteen-thirties, the Durrell family rented it for a time, and Gerald Durrell wrote about it in his much-loved book, ‘My Family and Other Animals’, christening it ‘The Daffodil-Yellow Villa’.

Like so many of the old houses that remain along the Corfu coast-line, it dates back to Venetian times.

View of Lazaretto from the Durrell villa

Not far from this villa, is Sotiriotissa, with its old church  and attached house. Here the main road leading north out of Corfu Town turns inland, but the coastline continues in a series of small beaches backed by tall trees in which some outstanding examples of Venetian domestic and sometimes fortified architecture remain, many of them still occupied, some beautifully renovated.

Sotiriotissa

Krevatsoula

Old houses and churches on the shoreline

It is here that we find Kontokali and Gouvia – well-known these days as holiday resorts, though the fortunes of Kontokali have declined noticeably, perhaps because the busy dual carriageway  discourages timid tourists from crossing it. The village is now dominated by the yacht marina, but there are still areas that look just as they always did, such as Gerekos island – not really an island but with the sense of separation from the mainstream that is the joy of island life. The men of Kontokali were always seamen and fishermen, and they still fish here, and mend their nets, maintain their boats and are closely monitored by hungry gulls and herons.

Gerekos Island

Govino Bay, enclosed by Gerekos island and the Kommeno peninsula, and the site of the large yacht marina, is a huge, safe anchorage, where the Venetian navy gathered its ships, and closed off the narrow entry with a great chain, which could be raised and lowered as required. Ruins of watchtowers and other naval buildings can still be seen, including the Venetian arsenal and dockyard at Gouvia, now a pleasant and popular little holiday resort.

  Venetian shipyard at Gouvia

Passing the little church of Ypapanti, a favourite venue for weddings and baptisms thanks to its photogenic appearance, we sail up towards the sparkling bays and coves formed where the limestone slopes of Mt Pantocrator meet the water’s edge.

Continuing northwards along the green, wooded shores, the idea that Corfu is ‘spoiled’ by tourism seems very far-fetched. Clusters of villas, apartments and tavernas are strung along the coast, dwarfed by the dense olive groves that give way here and there to the glittering crags and outcrops of Corfu’s highest mountain, Pantocrator.

Elegant villas abound, the older ones  screened by Mediterranean gardens brimming with palms, jasmine and bougainvillea.

There are houses that could not be closer to the sea, that were once fishermen’s huts, olive presses or olive pickers sheds- now so coolly glamorous that they frequently grace the pages of glossy magazines.

For example - 

.

The residences of modern, international giants of commerce, politics and the media draw the eye and perhaps arouse some envy, but even the longest lenses of the paparazzi are rarely able to breach the privacy  - that they offer gracious living by the sea is obvious, but who enjoys it is less easily observed.

Not all the Venetian buildings that dot the coast of Corfu started life as domestic residences. Let us not forget that in those days there was no road along the coast, and that pirates infested these waters, not to mention the successive waves of invaders . Many of the buildings that are now homes or tavernas, for example, were once staging posts for the boats that plied the coast, carrying passengers, freight and mail. Some simply provided seasonal accommodation for the olive pickers, who brought the crop to the shore to be pressed and shipped, in those days back to the relentlessly greedy merchants of Venice. St Stephano, Kaminaki, Agni and Kalami are testimony to these origins. 

View of Agni Bay

Most of the ancient villages were built high upon the hillsides overlooking the coast, their dwellings clustered tightly about each other, interspersed with narrow, twisting alleys and high walls to deter the marauders.

The closer to the shore a ‘modern’ villa is, the more likely it is that it started life as a functional building of some kind, usually an olive press.

There are several churches too, down at sea-level.
Perhaps the most famous (Lawrence Durrell write about it) and the most spectacularly-sited is the tiny chapel of St Arsenius, below Kentroma village.

I love Durrell's description of throwing cherries into the crystal-clear water nearby, and his wife               Nancy diving for them .

But the great white house that seems to rise out of the water itself at Kouloura, was a fortified Venetian lookout post. It was occupied by German troops in WWII for similar purposes, and its owner, an elderly lady, refused to leave her home and was allowed to remain, interned in one of the towers.  Wrongly identified by many guides and guidebooks as Lawrence Durrell’s temporary home, it now belongs to an influential Italian family.

 Kouloura

The White House that was indeed Lawrence Durrell’s home for a time from 1936  still stands at Kalami, and is still available for rent. Its simple furnishings have changed little from Durrell’s day and include his writing desk. Much has changed at Kalami, but The White House retains a charm and an allure that represents the very best of the traditional Greek island holiday. The terrace of the building houses a Greek taverna where wisteria droops above the tables in April and May, where the view is of boats and ducks, swimming merrily if implausibly, between the small boats..

The White House at Kalami

Another of the most famous villas along this coast is of course that on the Rothschild estate. Its design could be said to hark back beyond Venetian times, perhaps to an Angevin stronghold?

Spotting the celebrities that visit each summer, when they emerge for a taverna supper, is a popular holiday pastime for holidaymakers in this area.
But more about the pleasures of a meal by the sea another time.

It is not only the creations of Man, however, that attract attention while sailing along past cliffs and coves, caves and beaches. The rock formations themselves are astonishing, hinting at primeval upheavals we can barely imagine.

Historical facts. rumour, intrigue and downright gossip – all have been borne on the sea breezes of this lovely and historic coastline.

So, row or sail or gently cruise your way up and down the coastline where history has been made in the past and continues, from time to time, to be made today.

 You could even surf it!

Or swim it!

I do recommend you read, or re-read, 'Prospero's Cell' by Lawrence Durrell for poetic descriptions of this coastline as it was and as it remains - utterly beautiful, utterly magical.


Thanks to my friend Frosso and to my sister Katy for the use of their photos - the rest are my own.

A NEW WORLD BLOG FROM GRANDMA'S SISTER

 I have a guest blogger this time - my sister Katy who lives in Canada. Could there be two more different places in which to live? Canada and Corfu Greece. Considering we started off as 'Essex girls', never dreaming our lives would eventually take us so far apart.

With great pleasure, I give you a new blog from CountyKate. who writes as follows:

COUNTYKATE AT LARGE IN CANADA

Most people have an image of Canada as a vast country, on a grand scale - The Rockies, Niagara Falls, The Great Lakes, endless plains, primeval forest, but also cosmopolitan cities, teeming with life.

Many parts of Canada remain under-populated, wild and even unexplored. But, you must consider that Up North, we have glaciers and polar bears, whilst here in Ontario where I live, I feed hummingbirds in my garden in the summer months.

And then there are the truly rural, largely passed-by, intimate landscapes of places such as where I live.

Prince Edward County. It is part of Ontario, between Toronto and  Kingston, and is an 'isthmus', jutting out into Lake Ontario.  We are a special place; special because it is small, originally populated by Native  Indians, such as  Iroquois and  Algonquin tribes. They mainly resided peacefully along the shoreline, hunting and trapping for bartering purposes, fishing and living quietly, oblivious to the coming  invasion of  European settlers.

Algonquin Indians

Iroquois Indian

The Europeans began arriving in the mid 1700's; French, German and  Dutch, along with many Scottish, fleeing the Jacobite Rebellions. Their  descendants are still here, and small crossroads, once little hubs of activity, still bear their names, though all sign of them has gone, names such as Doxsee, Onderdonk, Bongard, Ostrander.

 The 'Katmobile' - 1987 Chrysler Fifth Avenue

I took a rural drive today, in my classic car, one of my favourite activities. I left the small main town of Picton, bustling for now with summer tourists, here for the antiques, art and wineries.  I took the winding road east, still on the County, past houses built by the wealthy Americans, who came here in the 19th century.  Some are mansions, like Claramount, a bit of a 'Tara', in colonial revival style with white pillars and yellow woodwork. It was built as a summer'cottage' for a businessman and his two daughters, and named after his wife Clara, but now is a hotel and spa.

Onward past  Victorian houses, with their wraparound porches and formal gardens, many going to the water’s edge of Picton Inlet and harbour. Once the harbour was full of three-masted sailing ships, carrying grain, canned goods, and passengers.

Typical Victorian house

Picton inlet

Picton harbour

As I carried on, the inlet on my left, I drove through the hamlet  of Lake on the Mountain.  This lake is supposedly bottomless, mysterious and haunted!  Haunted, so folklore says, by an Indian princess, who waited in vain for her lover to arrive, and drowned herself in its dark depths.  Or, it could be a meteor crater! 

Lake on the Mountain

Shores of the lake

But the road goes on, past farms and barns, low vegetation as we are on shale beds here, not conducive to deep roots.

On my left I had wonderful views of Adolphus Reach, the continuation of Picton Inlet, rippling its way towards the open water of Lake Ontario.

Eventually I came to Prinyers Cove, an inlet of water dotted now with yachts, houseboats, dinghies, and with a small marina.  Prinyers Cove was originally called  Grog Cove, probably a safe port of call for the County's Rum Runners, but later, when a small group of Scottish refugees arrived, in about 1780, it became McConnell’s Cove. They settled, became prosperous farmers, but the lineage died out, and the cove acquired the name of  Prinyer’s.

And so I turned around, to start off home, the end of a perfect day, for dreamers and photographers.

SUMMER SUNDAY IN CORFU

SUNDAY BY THE SEA

That’s just what most of us who live in Corfu are able to enjoy almost every weekend in summer.

A Sunday by the sea, with family or friends or, if you feel so inclined, just a good book, for company.

Living in, or on, Corfu has one huge advantage – you are never far from the sea. Your nearest beach may be just across the road, or down a lane, while your favourite beach may be as much as an hour’s drive away, but it will be a quiet drive with little traffic, and when you get there, except for the month of August, it will be uncrowded and pleasingly un-organized, By which I do not mean ‘disorganized’, I mean free from fences and entry gates, free of hustlers and pedlars, free of commerce.

We went off to what has always been a favourite of mine. So unspoiled that I refuse to tell you the name of it in case the word gets out. Mind you, we gave directions to another friend and expected him to join us but when he saw the steepness of the road leading down to it, he bottled out, as some of us say, and decided not to risk life and limb and put his faith in rented-bike-brakes.

It’s not really dangerous, though people arriving by hired car to spend a holiday in one of the seaside villas have been known to park their cars at the main road and sweat their way to the villa, loaded with luggage, rather than risk the gradient. As for taxi-drivers – they pretend that they have never heard of it and refuse to go.

It isn’t that bad – I have driven up and down that hill for so many years without incident. It just needs nerves of steel.

As always, it was worth the effort.

Embraced by steep tree-covered hillsides on which a few smart villas are sheltered by the greenery, there is just a  hamlet, too tiny to be called a village, its few houses washed in pastel colours, built above and beside each other without any discernible plan, a couple of cobbled and stepped alleys connecting them.

The beach is small but stunning. A crescent of pale pebbles, south-facing, enclosed by two rocky shoulders, the sea a vision of merging blues and greens, scattered with a few small boats. It looks like the idealized seaside we used to paint as kids when our teachers exhorted us to paint a scene from our holiday.

It’s a friendly place – the same inhabitants, the same holidaymakers returning year after year because of its quiet perfection. It is perfect for children.

Last year our Child needed armbands – this year he wears Robert Redford trunks and has developed an appreciation of Nature!

There are a couple of tavernas overlooking the beach and the sea – over the years rumours have arisen pertaining to the opening of a new bar or restaurant but it never happens. There are few regrets.

Lunch by the sea is one of Corfu’s best experiences. It need not be a gourmet experience – a meal of grilled fresh sardines, deep-fried squid that may be fresh or frozen but is always good and, surprisingly appeals to children, a colourful Greek salad, tangy tzatziki and fat golden chips, accompanied by ouzo, ice-cold beer or retsina, is good to look at and better to eat.

Jamie Oliver would purr with approval over the lavish use of thick lemon slices and oregano.

It was really hot – around 37 degrees C we thought. The sea was like silk, with the occasional wave coming, literally out of the blue, to take the toddlers by surprise. A baby was tenderly lowered into a blow-up duck for its first taste of the sea; an old woman on two sticks was just as tenderly helped in and out of the water by her caring family. It’s not a trendy beach, but it is a friendly one.

Nothing remarkable happened - but that was the joy of it. No demands were made on us, no-one wanted to tell us their life story, no-one intruded on our quiet time. I hadn’t been there for a while, I was welcomed back and came away with those wonderful gifts, so generously given – a bottle of home-produced olive oil, a bag of freshly dug potatoes.

FRUITS-DE-MER

It’s not just the bottles of wine or oil, the bags of lemons, potatoes or eggs, that are so freely given by human friends, that make life in Corfu so delightful.

The Sundays by the sea are rich in offerings from the sea itself.

I used to spend Sundays with friends who had a small caique.

We would potter along the coast, bathing, boating, drinking more than was good for us, and every now and then the husband who was a great fisherman would bring up some clams or crabs for us to snack on.

Paula showing me how to open and eat a clam

He would bring up sea urchins too, careless of the spines, open them with a knife, apply a generous squeeze of lemon and tip the live contents, taken by surprise, down his throat.

Nikos even brought up the occasional barnacle-encrusted amphora ...

There has always been so much bounty fresh from the sea on those, and other, trips over the years.

Mussels for example

Oysters

Octopus too – though it needs a lot of preparation before it can be eaten. If you are spending all day at the beach and catch one early enough, you could beat it on the rocks to tenderize it, spread it over a rigani (oregano) bush to dry out in the sun, and come, sundown, sear it over a fire. Delicious!

My parents had connections with Essex and the East End of London, where cockles, whelks and winkles were a popular ‘street food’. Not to mention the famous jellied eels.

Here in the sea off  Corfu, cockles at least are abundant. They are called kydonia and are often to be seen in the market too.

Those of us who have lived here for many years still mourn the passing of what we called ‘Fish Alley’ – the winding alley in the centre of the town where fishmongers were to be found, and small establishments that used to fry fresh fish every day, to be sold as a snack in twists of paper – tiny shrimps too, all locally caught. In those days you could fish in the harbour (Old Port) and catch octopus and kefalos (grey mullet).

Not exactly fruits -de -mer, more legumes de mer perhaps, is rock samphire that grows on many beaches and rocky shorelines in Corfu. Delicious steamed, stir-fried, sautéed or lightly boiled as an accompaniment to fish, or raw in a salad, it needs no additional salt when being cooked or served. It is high in nutritional content.

One sea creature that sounds harmless and even useful is the sea cucumber, but we have found over the years that they can cause painful weals or rashes if trodden on while bathing. I wouldn’t touch one with a bargepole myself, but needless to say they feature in Chinese cuisine! Is there anything that doesn’t?

They are to be found all over the world, vary in size and appearance and, according to some reports can have a Viagra-like effect when eaten.

Be that as it may, they do not in any way appeal to me!

Perhaps my own favourite fruit-de-mer is a slice of icy watermelon cut from a melon that has been towed along in the sea behind a yacht! Bliss.

Aah – back to the beach I think.

I've just taken delivery of a couple of hundred paperbacks (at least) so there should be no lack of a good beach read for the next few Sundays!

I just had to share this photo with you – from the menu of another seaside taverna – I am still trying to come to terms with the ‘gobbage salad’! I think we can guess what it is though!

Thanls for the use of photos other than my own to Kate, Joanna, Frosso et al - whoever he may be.
The two beautiful paintings are by Allan Kingsbury.