Showing posts with label Corfu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Corfu. Show all posts

Thursday, 27 August 2015

Last day

There are things to which a photo or a bunch of words cannot do justice.

The colour of the water at Nafsika's cave and down the cliffs of the monastery in Palaiokastritsa is one of them.

Like the sound of the cicadas mixed to the sound of the waves, while lying on a pebbles beach in Kassiopi's bay. 

Or the freshness of an unexpected cave, found following the footsteps of a bunch of Germans hiking up mount Pantokrator.


For other things, a couple of photo shots may help.

Sadly, tomorrow at this time I will be a caught by another kind of blue, in the livery of a Ryanair aircraft heading north.

Tuesday, 25 August 2015

Going north

Staring at cliffs is one of my addictions.

I lost my breath long time ago at the Irish Cliffs of Moher and was knocked out again more recently down under at the 12 Apostles.

Driving in the north-west of Corfù, across cypress and olive tree forests, Cape Drastis added some more jabs.

Sunday, 23 August 2015

Small Ionians


The worst kept secret in Corfù is that ferries take you for a day trip to Paxos and Antipaxos, small neighbours in the turquoisest part of the Ionian sea.

So small that only a meagre 200.000 olive trees exist on Paxos, while Corfù can afford around 4 million.

And so secret that ferries are usually fully booked, including the organised tours with hundreds of people (and pork souvlaki) roasting onboard.

Corfiots are very proud of the little ones and can talk endlessly about the beauty of their waters. 
I can now confirm.

Saturday, 22 August 2015

Corfù


A new summer, a new corner of Greece. 

Here in Corfù temperature is just right, the garlic in the tzatziki is just a little above what literature may prescribe, the blue is just as overwhelming as it needs to be.

Afroditis, selling jewellery in Kerkyra centre, told us about 'meandros', the spiral and Greek symbol of life without an end. Who wants to live forever? The Corfiots, she said.

Guess she may have a point.

Stamatis, restaurant owner up the hill in Acharavi, 35 years in the business, seemed to be of the same mind. Wondering if that has anything to do with the fact that he seemed to keep forgetting what we were talking about.

Meandros or not, one of the beauties of Kerkyra is meandering through the narrow venetian streets. Later on, a wrong turn may send you meandering through narrow mountain roads, tiny villages and surprise viewpoints.