The quiet side of Corfu that’s got a lot to shout about
THE neighbours are kicking up an awful racket. My wife Deri and I are enjoying a quiet cocktail on the patio of Olivestone House on a balmy Greek evening, but in the background the cacophony continues: crickets, cicadas, and bees buzzing heavily in the bird-of-paradise bushes.
The hum is a beautiful accompaniment to the warmth of the night, and to our view across a lush valley.
But it isn’t all sensory treats. The arrival of Homer’s Ulysses in Corfu all those years ago was delayed by the fury of Poseidon stirring up a great tempest. It seems Poseidon is tetchy enough about our arrival too – a massive storm rages throughout our first night.
In fairness, guide books do stress Corfu’s abundant rainfall, hence the baroque extravagance of vegetation. The garden at Olivestone shows much evidence of that rainfall – walnuts, avocados, oranges, bananas, almonds, pomegranates all grow in profusion.
One of the few things that might prise you away from the villa or its swimming pool is the Panorama Bar in the sedate nearby village of Agios Markos.
The village has a stripped- down list of amenities: there’s a restaurant, a vineyard, two medieval churches and a food store. So that’s pub, icons, wine, and a place where you can get custard-filled croissants. Once you’ve got those essentials, you don’t need much else. The Panorama also has an arresting view across the bay – sit by the window and it’s the perfect backdrop to baronial portions of souvlaki or moussaka. All dishes are served with chips, olives and a huge salad; dessert is either watermelon or the local hooch, Metaxa brandy. The Panorama has an incorrigible informality – in short it’s wonderful. You can drink pretty good Greek wine too, or gag on retsina.
We dined there for three nights out of our seven. I also slinked off there at lunchtime five times out of seven. Exploring, I told Deri. Funnily enough that retsina grows on you.
Eventually it was time to recce the island’s capital. Dodging potholes and goats we took the coast road to Corfu Town, passing secluded rocky coves or sandy beaches.
Corfu Town is at a strategic point on the coastline. All the usual suspects have engaged in handbags here: Romans, Goths, Byzantines and Normans. The Venetians eventually got their marching orders at the end of the 18th Century, but it is their influence that remains – a tangle of narrow alleyways, shuttered facades, wide squares, two castles, sufficient churches to satisfy the most ardent sinner. This is Venice without canals.
Back in Agios Markos, the olive groves rise up the mountains. Paths thread through woods – good walking routes, if you want it. The local routes join the Corfu Trail at the village of Spartilas a mile away. The eight-day trail passes through mountain villages where you’re assured of a traditional, warm welcome.
Here, as in the Panorama Bar, life goes on as it always did. They probably haven’t even heard that the Venetians have left…