 |
| Albania from Agios Spiridon, the northern point of Corfu |
The Med in July is not that cool. The crowds, temperatures, airline and accommodation prices are at their peak. School summer holidays were designed for milder British climes, not for the benefit of airlines and the rapacious tourist industry. The crowds at Edinburgh Airport at 3:30am were of Murrayfield proportions, the Wetherspoon breakfasts were creating bulging bellies, and even the champagne bar was bubbling with alcohol seekers. The queues for luggage drops extended outside the terminal buildings, and with most folk dressed for the heat of arrival, it was apparent that the tattoo parlours had had a bumper year.
EasyJet landed us ahead of schedule, and within half an hour, we had parked our modestly priced Nissan Micra at Lidl. Greek prices had escalated since the last visit ten years ago. Google Maps helped us escape Kerkyra, the main town, and reach the north coast. Our modern villa was grafted onto the limestone bedrock and gave us stunning views of the nearby coast and the Albanian Riviera. The pool was calling, and later we walked up to the nearby village of Kontokali for a fine Greek meal at Harry's Taverna before retiring to air-conditioned rooms that made sleep easy.
Corfu has changed since my first visit in 1970, when we picked up people on an emigrant's boat from Piraeus to Brindisi in Italy. We had blagged our way to a passage on the boat to complete a 4-week student holiday in Greece and Italy. Our return flight to the UK had been booked from Milan so we had to hitch hike up Italy calling at Rome and Florence en route, my optimism was unregulated. The cost of the passage to Italy was 110 drachma or £1.50 for a 24-hour sail through the Corinth Canal, a stop in Corfu and a meal of pasta was included. We slept on the deck along with Greek families who were escaping the colonels and seeking work in the newly opened Alfa Sud factory in Naples.
My next visit to Corfu was in 1981 with our 1-year-old daughter, our first holiday as a family abroad. We stayed at a large tourist hotel at Roda Beach, not far from where we stayed on this occasion. Aileen had wanted to bail out; the meals in the large canteen-like dining area made you nostalgic for school dinners. We hired a car and sought out the best beaches on the north west coast in friendly local villages with the odd taverna and an absence of tourist tat. It was an important lesson; we never had a holiday in a tourist hotel again. We next passed through Corfu on our way to Paxos and saw the sprawling development that had taken place. On this trip, I was careful to book a villa in the north of the island, close to the better beaches and away from the crowded holiday resorts. There are now 150,000 people living on Corfu; only Crete and Rhodes, both far bigger islands, are more populated.
The villa was modern, well-equipped with air conditioning and a pool that proved essential as temperatures were in the mid forties for much of the week. The record temperature was equalled on our last day, according to the driver of the mini bus that took us to the airport after the car drop. We made visits to Aghios Georgiou beach, where we had spent several days in 1981, when it was a gorgeous, long sandy beach with just a couple of tavernas. Today it is developed with many hotels and restaurants, the beach is littered with sun beds, but it is still beautifully located between two headlands. As is the nearby village of Afionas, where there is a wonderful walk down to Porto Timoni that we made after the afternoon heat receded.
We made a couple of trips to the nearby village of Kassiopi with its picture book harbour, from where we rented a boat for a voyage along the coast and contemplated a quick trip over to Albania, a 3-mile voyage that had been achieved by two holidaymakers from Kilmarnock in a pedalo a few years ago. The young woman who hired us the boat thought that Greece had been at its best in the 1970s, when beaches were unadulterated with hotels and cafes, when transport was buses and scooters, and local tavernas provided simple meals. I agreed, having had the pleasure of four island-hopping holidays, travelling light with good companions; sleeping on deck or beaches, or in caves and whitewashed cottages that had no water or electricity. I visited 15 Greek islands in those halcyon days. reading novels like The Magus by John Fowles and exploring ancient sites when you were able to amble around them without tickets.
On other days, we visited the spectacular coast of Cape Drastis by Sidari and made an early morning climb up Corfu's highest mountain, Mount Pantokrator, from Old Perithia. Most of the time, the villa and the pool provided the most comfortable place in a week when the temperature was heading to new records. We ate out most evenings, the tavernas provided good Greek food, and the hospitality was always good. Would I go again? Not in July or August, and probably by train and boat or a tardis to go back to the 1970s. The queuing and waiting at airports and the sense of being packaged is contrary to the very essence of enjoying the uncertainty and delights of travelling.
 |
| Albanian view |
 |
| A place in the Sun, Old Perithia |
 |
| Mantis on arm chair |
 |
| Logos, Sunset beach |
 |
| Logos |
 |
| Cape Drastis |
 |
| In the Mountains |
 |
| Arilas Bay from taverna |
 |
| 1970s Greece |
 |
| Firecracker Plant |
 |
| Path to Porto Timoni |
 |
| Agiou Georgiou Bay |
 |
| Bougainvillea |
 |
| Kassiopi Harbour |
 |
| Villa Arreti |
