As a cheeky little detour away from Italy, I’d like to share with you a quick holiday I took to Corfu.
Taking the 10pm ferry from Brindisi to Corfu was very rock’n’roll. This journey continued for seven long hours – by which time I swore I’d developed scurvy – until the pinky dawn arrived, as did the vision of Corfu town’s beckoning harbour.
Whilst there I stayed in Paleokastritsa (pictured), a beautiful resort on the north of the island.
I remember a boat trip which climaxed with the captain saying to us female disimbarkees: “Eez time for keeesses”. Not quite what I expected at all!
Then, the horror of being bitten by something on the beach, resulting in near hospitalisation. The ensuing delirium was interesting; a daydream of being on lovely island then realising it to be so (stingy thing permitting).
A previous time on sunny Corfu I’d had food poisoning derived from a pesky prickly pear experience, and so visiting the local doctor I was welcomed into his studio, along with a knee injury patient. The physician vaguely prescribed some medication then plugged his disco where he doubled up as DJ. I don’t know if I felt better or worse after that?
Intense heat required a daily dip in the Ionian; clear limpid waters tempted you in, then you’d lie splatted like a salty baked potato on the beach.
My Greek food passion was Tsatsiki, which I consumed at every opportunity.
And so it continued daily – a round of food, beach and sea with impossibly beautiful views until it was time to return to Italy. The stern, moustachioed captain was good enough as I’d hardly have been in the mood for ‘kissing captain’ after seven more hours of undulation and coping with three dodgy hustlers from Basilicata.
I returned to my classes to find my students a little miffed with my choice of destination, rather like spurned lovers who felt tossed aside. Why not Italy they sulked?
However, they soon cheered up when they heard of my many Greek calamities.