Down, down, down to Corfu Town
May I just start with a string of expletives, as I've just spent the last hour writing an update only to miskey and have it go to the great internet gods in the ether.
To be fair I was pretty much just banging on, so it's probably some kind of karmic editorial license! I had opened by admitting that this story is being told in a (TV show) 24 kind of real time format and that you as the reader may prefer that I just got on with it?
It's not that I mean to drag it out, it's just a talent I have. That and sleeping. Those are my only two discernible talents. I can play the piano, although as my neighbours will attest that's more often a liability than a talent.
So, last post I was positively giddy by the appearance of my 3 young Utah play things, who unfortunately simply would not be drawn into any conversation of any length with me. Obviously they knew not to engage with spawn of the devil (sorry Mum and Dad) and that thought alone entertained me for a bit - the thought of Mormon sunday school holding up pictures of me while saying "avert your eyes, avert your eyes".
Try as hard as I may to engage them in travelling chit chat they remained almost electively mute. And so when we arrived in Patras they scarpered faster than a rat up a drain pipe, no doubt in the general direction of a religious site to pray for my salvation and their cleansing.
Patras itself is actually quite interesting and for future travellers I would say that you could easily spend 2 days/one night there without feeling that you'd wasted time. I, on the other hand, was done with my Illyad adventure and wanted to make like a shepherd and get the flock out of there, so booked my passage on the first ferry out, on the way to Corfu.
In a previous life I've worked with mariners, who were always romanticising the sea in that way that you expect of the tragically inept or lonely. You know, trying to make out that spending weeks and months alone at sea climbing up and down rigging was for reasons other than they simply didn't have friends. I, despite a noticeable absence of friends, stood on deck for a while and just felt cold and wet.
When the ferry finally docked in Corfu town at 6am the next morning I genuinely wanted to stow away and continue directly onto Venice, which I think would have been fairly simple as other than the original ticket check to get on the boat there were no additional checks. However, I am an honest and honourable person and had been told that one of the highlights of Corfu was the cricket pitch (for the future travellers, you can revise this to THE highlight of Corfu). So, I disembarked, looked around for a tourist info spot (none to be found) and then did the wander looking for something that looked clean and air conditioned, but still relatively cheap.
For the unplanned traveller, of which I am proud to be, I cannot recommend a good travel guide enough. Most have good recommendations for accommodation, restaurants and cafes and nightlife. And they almost all have a bit of history about the place in the front of the guide. Some are better than others with local knowledge and some are better than others with history and maps of museums and galleries, so depending on what you need I'd recommend standing in the travel section of your local bookstore flicking through. Some are also very heavy, which is something you need to consider if wearing a pack!
I found a place, downed my pack and then did the usual wander around. Corfu town, the main town of Corfu island, is tiny. It took about an hour to walk literally all around the island. And my discovery of the cricket pitch was nothing less than dismal. It was not so much a pitch as series of concrete slabs joined together haphazardly. Indeed the join of one section was at about full toss length, which I suspect results in a number of fractured cheek bones and split eyebrows for silly mid on and off, depending on the bowler. For the non Australian readers, cricket is a way of life down south. It's not a sport, it's a religion. There is nothing more Australian than spending the Christmas to New Year period watching a test match, or lamenting the fact that Shane Warne, while a very talented sports person is a national disgrace and total tosspot. For more info on cricket, http://www.therulesofcricket.co.uk/
Yes, this is an english site, which is more a way of acknowledging that other people play cricket too than anything else. I want it to be known that I am nothing if not inclusive.
I had been told by Greek friends that Corfu, because of the earlier Roman occupation was very different to any of the other Greek islands and more venetian than any of the other islands. I guess if it was flooded that would be a fair call, but then I guess if most places were flooded that would be a fair call? So, I wandered around, trying desperately to imagine myself in Italy until that moment of gestalt where I thought, why continue to just try?
So, with one final meal of moussaka, one final glass of ouzo and my last greek coffee I booked my ferry to Venezia, Italy and finally started to get excited about travelling.
To be fair I was pretty much just banging on, so it's probably some kind of karmic editorial license! I had opened by admitting that this story is being told in a (TV show) 24 kind of real time format and that you as the reader may prefer that I just got on with it?
It's not that I mean to drag it out, it's just a talent I have. That and sleeping. Those are my only two discernible talents. I can play the piano, although as my neighbours will attest that's more often a liability than a talent.
So, last post I was positively giddy by the appearance of my 3 young Utah play things, who unfortunately simply would not be drawn into any conversation of any length with me. Obviously they knew not to engage with spawn of the devil (sorry Mum and Dad) and that thought alone entertained me for a bit - the thought of Mormon sunday school holding up pictures of me while saying "avert your eyes, avert your eyes".
Try as hard as I may to engage them in travelling chit chat they remained almost electively mute. And so when we arrived in Patras they scarpered faster than a rat up a drain pipe, no doubt in the general direction of a religious site to pray for my salvation and their cleansing.
Patras itself is actually quite interesting and for future travellers I would say that you could easily spend 2 days/one night there without feeling that you'd wasted time. I, on the other hand, was done with my Illyad adventure and wanted to make like a shepherd and get the flock out of there, so booked my passage on the first ferry out, on the way to Corfu.
In a previous life I've worked with mariners, who were always romanticising the sea in that way that you expect of the tragically inept or lonely. You know, trying to make out that spending weeks and months alone at sea climbing up and down rigging was for reasons other than they simply didn't have friends. I, despite a noticeable absence of friends, stood on deck for a while and just felt cold and wet.
When the ferry finally docked in Corfu town at 6am the next morning I genuinely wanted to stow away and continue directly onto Venice, which I think would have been fairly simple as other than the original ticket check to get on the boat there were no additional checks. However, I am an honest and honourable person and had been told that one of the highlights of Corfu was the cricket pitch (for the future travellers, you can revise this to THE highlight of Corfu). So, I disembarked, looked around for a tourist info spot (none to be found) and then did the wander looking for something that looked clean and air conditioned, but still relatively cheap.
Corfu town, Corfu island. Cricket pitch to the right. It was so bollocks I didn't take a pic.
For the unplanned traveller, of which I am proud to be, I cannot recommend a good travel guide enough. Most have good recommendations for accommodation, restaurants and cafes and nightlife. And they almost all have a bit of history about the place in the front of the guide. Some are better than others with local knowledge and some are better than others with history and maps of museums and galleries, so depending on what you need I'd recommend standing in the travel section of your local bookstore flicking through. Some are also very heavy, which is something you need to consider if wearing a pack!
I found a place, downed my pack and then did the usual wander around. Corfu town, the main town of Corfu island, is tiny. It took about an hour to walk literally all around the island. And my discovery of the cricket pitch was nothing less than dismal. It was not so much a pitch as series of concrete slabs joined together haphazardly. Indeed the join of one section was at about full toss length, which I suspect results in a number of fractured cheek bones and split eyebrows for silly mid on and off, depending on the bowler. For the non Australian readers, cricket is a way of life down south. It's not a sport, it's a religion. There is nothing more Australian than spending the Christmas to New Year period watching a test match, or lamenting the fact that Shane Warne, while a very talented sports person is a national disgrace and total tosspot. For more info on cricket, http://www.therulesofcricket.co.uk/
Yes, this is an english site, which is more a way of acknowledging that other people play cricket too than anything else. I want it to be known that I am nothing if not inclusive.
I had been told by Greek friends that Corfu, because of the earlier Roman occupation was very different to any of the other Greek islands and more venetian than any of the other islands. I guess if it was flooded that would be a fair call, but then I guess if most places were flooded that would be a fair call? So, I wandered around, trying desperately to imagine myself in Italy until that moment of gestalt where I thought, why continue to just try?
So, with one final meal of moussaka, one final glass of ouzo and my last greek coffee I booked my ferry to Venezia, Italy and finally started to get excited about travelling.
