Corfu (Κέρκυρα in Greek, pronounced Kerkyra) is the northernmost and second largest of the Ionian islands, a group of seven islands in the Ionian sea, off of Greece's west coast. The island's name comes from mythology - Poseidon fell in love with the beautiful river nymph Korkyra, abducted her and brought her to this island.
While waiting for a cab outside of the small airport, my parents got their first taste of Greek melodrama - a cab driver and what seemed to be a paying customer (a man dressed in a fancy beige suit and polished black shoes) had a full on screaming match. They just wouldn't stop yelling at each other, for about 7 minutes straight, ignoring everyone in the taxi lineup. "Then Boro!" the cabby kept yelling. ("I can't!") Other than this, I couldn't make out much of what he was saying, as it was all coming way too fast and furious. Finally he told us to get into his car.
"What was that all about?" my mother inquired. "Oh, that's just my boss," he responded in a very British accent. When asked where he learned to speak English, he responded. "London. Too many English girlfriends."
He drove us through winding streets, full of colourful houses with ornate shutters that looked much more Italian than Greek. Corfu was long controlled by Venice, and you can certainly see the Venetian influence in the architecture near the main town. At one intersection, he pointed to ruins on both left and right of the car - "There, byzantine, there roman," he said. And then he brought us to the wrong hotel.
My mother had been to Greece once before, when she was in her twenties - she and a friend got stuck on Milos for an entire week because they were given wrong directions about which ferry to take and the ferry to Milos only came once weekly. My father had never been to Greece. He has this incredibly annoying tendency of treating all languages other than English as one language, and responding in a strange hybrid of French, Spanish, and Italian to any language that he does not understand. So there was plenty of "si si"ing and "grazi" on this trip. I tried to teach him a few Greek words, like thank you, "effaristo," but he kept saying "effaristimo." At least I was able to teach him the one Greek word to replace his all time favourite word, WANKER - malaka. That one, he could remember.
On our first night, on our way into Corfu town, my father tried to speak his Franglospantalian to the cab driver. I told the cab driver in Greek that my father was crazy. "Ohee," he responded. "Eisa treli, yiati milas Helenika!" - YOU're crazy, because you speak Greek. Very encouraging.
I chose to bring my parents to Corfu because it is THE place to be for easter, and I wanted them to see a bit of Greek tradition. Tens of thousands of people flock to the island for the occasion, wherein different philharmonic bands play (the island has the highest population of musicians of anywhere in Greece), terra cotta pots are thrown from windows, and fireworks light up the sky.
Corfu Town looks much more like Rome than anywhere I'd been in Greece thus far. The buildings are grand and ornate, but the town is small enough that it's not overwhelming. We had two lovely (minus the mayaritsa, a traditional soup made of lamb innards) dinners in the outdoor light of Corfu town amidst the Easter celebration.
Because the island is so large, we rented a car. About 5 km down the road we realized there was NO gas in the car, so we almost had a close call in the middle of Corfu town, but luckily were able to get to a gas station in time. I'm really glad we rented a car, because there's a lot to see - the geography of the island is pretty striking. Corfu recieves a pretty heavy rainfall, so it's much more lush than the islands in the Aegean, and doesn't look anything like the rest of Greece that I've seen. As we drove up the North side of the island along the Eastern coast, we could see Albania, which is only about 2 miles away.
At one point we stopped to get out and figure out where we were going and were met by a very friendly, if a little odd, British couple in their mid-sixties. The man, tall, thin and tan with white hair, was smacking away on an ice cream on a stick. "Lost, ah you?" His ginger haired wife flashed us a yellow, crooked toothed grin. "No, no, just trying to figure out where's best to go... what do you recommend?" The man finished his ice cream, came over to take a look at the map, and used the stick of the ice cream to point out the best route. I couldn't help looking more at the chocolate and saliva covered stick, rather than the map, as he pointed here and there along the coast and up into the mountains of Corfu. "Don't wanna go up there," he told us, dragging the stick over an area on the northernmost part of the island. "Bit like Blackpool. Not your cup o tea, I'd say."
We had a very nice lunch at a little beachside taverna, probably the only place on the island that was open. My mother ordered fish soup, but was told there wasn't any. They recommended something else that was supposedly "similar," and she agreed. Instead she was brought an entire fish carcass covered in brown sauce. At first we were all repulsed, but she found it fresh and tasty.
We drove to a few beaches and little inlets, where the water was crystal clear and turquoise. I went in for a swim, but the water was almost as cold as it is in Maine - really biting. We got lost in the woods, among olive groves, on some seriously winding and narrow roads, and in some little hilltop towns. The driving was pretty hectic and the roads are not very well marked at all. The other towns, aside from Corfu town, were not very well kept, and were pretty tacky from what we could see, which was a bit disappointing. But the landscape made up for it.
I'm still not sure why it's called "Corfu" in English. This is something that's been baffling me all year - why do we change the names of places for our own languages? A name is a name is a name. For example: Greece, in Greek, is called "Hellada." Wouldn't it make sense for every other country in the world to just call it Hellada, too?
Anyways. Corfu was the beginning of a nine day Greece extravaganza with my parents.
The flight up the coast of Greece over the Ionians was one of the most pleasant flights I've been on - also one of the shortest, at 45 minutes. I was surprised to see how large the island was - as we flew in, it seemed to stretch on forever - (from top to bottom it's around 200 km).
The flight up the coast of Greece over the Ionians was one of the most pleasant flights I've been on - also one of the shortest, at 45 minutes. I was surprised to see how large the island was - as we flew in, it seemed to stretch on forever - (from top to bottom it's around 200 km).
While waiting for a cab outside of the small airport, my parents got their first taste of Greek melodrama - a cab driver and what seemed to be a paying customer (a man dressed in a fancy beige suit and polished black shoes) had a full on screaming match. They just wouldn't stop yelling at each other, for about 7 minutes straight, ignoring everyone in the taxi lineup. "Then Boro!" the cabby kept yelling. ("I can't!") Other than this, I couldn't make out much of what he was saying, as it was all coming way too fast and furious. Finally he told us to get into his car.
"What was that all about?" my mother inquired. "Oh, that's just my boss," he responded in a very British accent. When asked where he learned to speak English, he responded. "London. Too many English girlfriends."
He drove us through winding streets, full of colourful houses with ornate shutters that looked much more Italian than Greek. Corfu was long controlled by Venice, and you can certainly see the Venetian influence in the architecture near the main town. At one intersection, he pointed to ruins on both left and right of the car - "There, byzantine, there roman," he said. And then he brought us to the wrong hotel.
My mother had been to Greece once before, when she was in her twenties - she and a friend got stuck on Milos for an entire week because they were given wrong directions about which ferry to take and the ferry to Milos only came once weekly. My father had never been to Greece. He has this incredibly annoying tendency of treating all languages other than English as one language, and responding in a strange hybrid of French, Spanish, and Italian to any language that he does not understand. So there was plenty of "si si"ing and "grazi" on this trip. I tried to teach him a few Greek words, like thank you, "effaristo," but he kept saying "effaristimo." At least I was able to teach him the one Greek word to replace his all time favourite word, WANKER - malaka. That one, he could remember.
On our first night, on our way into Corfu town, my father tried to speak his Franglospantalian to the cab driver. I told the cab driver in Greek that my father was crazy. "Ohee," he responded. "Eisa treli, yiati milas Helenika!" - YOU're crazy, because you speak Greek. Very encouraging.
 |
| Hangin out the windows to see the celebration |
I chose to bring my parents to Corfu because it is THE place to be for easter, and I wanted them to see a bit of Greek tradition. Tens of thousands of people flock to the island for the occasion, wherein different philharmonic bands play (the island has the highest population of musicians of anywhere in Greece), terra cotta pots are thrown from windows, and fireworks light up the sky.
 |
| Spit roasted Lamb - traditional Easter dish |
Corfu Town looks much more like Rome than anywhere I'd been in Greece thus far. The buildings are grand and ornate, but the town is small enough that it's not overwhelming. We had two lovely (minus the mayaritsa, a traditional soup made of lamb innards) dinners in the outdoor light of Corfu town amidst the Easter celebration.
Because the island is so large, we rented a car. About 5 km down the road we realized there was NO gas in the car, so we almost had a close call in the middle of Corfu town, but luckily were able to get to a gas station in time. I'm really glad we rented a car, because there's a lot to see - the geography of the island is pretty striking. Corfu recieves a pretty heavy rainfall, so it's much more lush than the islands in the Aegean, and doesn't look anything like the rest of Greece that I've seen. As we drove up the North side of the island along the Eastern coast, we could see Albania, which is only about 2 miles away.
At one point we stopped to get out and figure out where we were going and were met by a very friendly, if a little odd, British couple in their mid-sixties. The man, tall, thin and tan with white hair, was smacking away on an ice cream on a stick. "Lost, ah you?" His ginger haired wife flashed us a yellow, crooked toothed grin. "No, no, just trying to figure out where's best to go... what do you recommend?" The man finished his ice cream, came over to take a look at the map, and used the stick of the ice cream to point out the best route. I couldn't help looking more at the chocolate and saliva covered stick, rather than the map, as he pointed here and there along the coast and up into the mountains of Corfu. "Don't wanna go up there," he told us, dragging the stick over an area on the northernmost part of the island. "Bit like Blackpool. Not your cup o tea, I'd say."
 |
| Mom's fish "soup" |
We had a very nice lunch at a little beachside taverna, probably the only place on the island that was open. My mother ordered fish soup, but was told there wasn't any. They recommended something else that was supposedly "similar," and she agreed. Instead she was brought an entire fish carcass covered in brown sauce. At first we were all repulsed, but she found it fresh and tasty.
 |
| View from Lunch Table |
We drove to a few beaches and little inlets, where the water was crystal clear and turquoise. I went in for a swim, but the water was almost as cold as it is in Maine - really biting. We got lost in the woods, among olive groves, on some seriously winding and narrow roads, and in some little hilltop towns. The driving was pretty hectic and the roads are not very well marked at all. The other towns, aside from Corfu town, were not very well kept, and were pretty tacky from what we could see, which was a bit disappointing. But the landscape made up for it.
My parents were generally pretty impressed with how friendly the Greeks were. After getting lost innumerable times our first day, my Dad was fiending for a beer, so we stopped by a little roadside restaurant to grab something. The owner told us he was closed.. "But come in! I give you something to drink." We ordered a few beers. He introduced himself as Evangelis, and told us all about the island. When we tried to pay, he refused to let us. All he wanted to do was just have a nice chat with some tourists. It was so kind of him.
That's something I've found with Greeks - they generally ARE very very nice, one on one. It's just when it comes to things such as driving, where they're incredibly aggressive, or lines (which they have no concept of), that they can seem rather abrasive. But Greek hospitality is no myth.
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