Return to Corfu
Meanwhile as my 11-year- old daughter and I stand on the crowded deck – our arms outstretched in Titanic splendor – it dawns on me that 18 years have passed since I last set foot on Corfu. “Aaaak!” is the only sound that comes from my lips. My daughter interupts her rendition of Celine Dion and slightly turns her head back to me. “Did you just say something?” she asks. “Just remembering the last time your mom and I were in Corfu” is my reply. And I relish the memory of that long-ago 6 hour steamship jaunt from the Italian coastal town of Brindisi where not once did my wife and I step outside our cabin. The nostalgia of that romantic interlude is suddenly interupted by sound of clanking chains drawing open the vehicle-hatch below.
“We’re here!” chirps my wife Giulia. My mind starts to race because we’ve rehearsed this moment a dozen times before. I need to get back to my car and get off the ship, while my wife and daughter lose themselves amid the hundreds of passengers who travel on foot. We all move in different directions.
I wade through a crush of Italians, Brits and Germans and think to myself that we’re all playing a variation of the same theme. The entire process of boarding and debarcation is – at it’s best – orchestrated madness. I’ve played this travel game at least a dozen times in Miami, Croatia, Spain an other locations around the world, but this shipping line that bounces back and forth between Southern Italy and Greece twice each day wins hands down in terms of overall spontaneity. The crew of the ship is made up – not surprisingly – of Greeks and Italians. But how the lack a half dozen Koreans made their way on board has me scratching my head. No matter. Every inch of available space in the hold has been taken up by cars, campers and boats. And now every one of them is vying for the same exit. One middle-age Korean with a red flag trying keep the process moving without being run over himself. I roll the windows up and turn on the AC and hope that I don’t pass out from all the carbon exhaust in the air. I’m minutes away from relative freedom.
Outside, the island of Corfu beckons – – crystal blue water, pristine beaches, great food and a relaxed pace. I wave to the Korean with the flag, ease down the ramp and look for my smiling wife and daughter. A minute later the 3 of us pull out of the port, into traffic and into another culture. Traffic signs are printed in both Greek and English, but I wonder what good that does to the other dozen nationalities darting about in rental cars and mopeds.
“Do we have everything?” asks my wife. I do a mental check while I nod my head. Money, passports, luggage – – all here. My daughter adds her two cents worth. “What are we going to do first?” I smile. Corfu hasn’t changed that much. Corfu’s golden age – – the 1980’s and ’90’s when the island catered to college kids and singles looking to party and get laid are over, replaced now with a more relaxed atmsotphere that seems to be geared towards couples and families. But the majority of hot spots are still to be found with names like Glyfada, Paleokastrisa, Roda and Ipsos Beach being just a handful of well-visited points of interest. Just keep following the coast – say the locals – and you’ll find what you’re looking for.
I may no longer be 24, but the same intoxicating beauty of this small island has me in it’s grasp once again.
