 |
| "I don't pity the Corfu." - Mr. T. |
The sun had risen as a misty pastel gouache over the island's mountains, but had begun to play hard-to-get.
With jagged streets lined by coffee shops and the tic-tac-toe of shuttered windows, the quaint town owes some of its heritage to a number of nations, including France and Great Britain. Strategically located, Corfu is ringed by an old and a new fort – which really isn't.
Still very much a postcard of Greece, though, serpentine grapevine and bougainvillea creep across lines above the street and billow with blooms. As the morning gave way to a more acceptable local hour, the streets, too, blossomed with vendors' colourful wares.
At each corner, our noses were tickled by the smells of herbs, grilled meats and baked sweets: gyros, souvlaki, baklava and pastries with sesame. Corfu is also known for kumquats, and the fruit's bright orange colour shimmered from liqueur bottles shaped like the island.
The fruit grows alongside silver-leafed olives on Corfu, which – filled with waxy tropical plants – is more lush than some of the other Greek islands we have visited.
As we turned to leave the main square, pigeons tussled over a crust of bread, and the laundry hanging over the street waved goodbye.
As we, too, bid adieu to Greece, I believe this is an island to which I could say hello again.
No comments:
Post a Comment