Parga to Arillas to Corfu

 Oct 15

We woke to a cool but sunny day. Our guides kindly delayed departure so that a group of us could walk up to Parga Castle. Besides ourselves, the only people in the streets were residents washing their balconies and stairs and the streets below their homes, even scrubbing their walls. I passed a working woman sweeping up the few bits of litter that had gathered in the night. Greece is really clean, and now I see why. 

The gang heading to the castle

When the road's not cobbled, it's painted to look cobbled

Parga climbs the natural amphitheatre of the harbour to the castle, and seems to spill down the hill on the other side to a long beach below. Up and up we walked. Funny how climbing hills feels so different on foot than on a bike. Being in shape for one doesn’t mean being in shape for the other. 

The Panagiota at the end of the pier, and the Captain Cook, an excursion boat, beside

Parga castle is similar to all the other castles we’ve visited this trip. It’s like local warlords of some seven hundred years ago would see a hill and think, “Oh, that hill needs a castle!” Then some invading hoard (like the Ottomans) would come along and wreck it, then another invading hoard (like the Venetians) would come along and rebuild it. Apparently the Venetians, ever the good merchants, sold this one back to the Ottomans, whereupon Ali Pasha made improvements like adding a hammam and quarters for his harem.

None of these improvements were apparent to my uneducated eye. There are broken down walls and tunnels that I hoped wouldn’t collapse at the moment I was walking through. There are canons lying around. There are always canons lying around. You’d think the iron would have been worth pilfering. 

. We all took the same photos through chinks in the walls.

The beach on the other side of the hill from the town

Back towards town, the tiny church on a tiny island, from above

Then we wandered back down through the freshly-scrubbed town to pick up our bikes for the last ride of this tour.

Women scrubbing

Last look at Parga

 

Lined up and ready to go

But first, a dance from Dimitris

As we rolled out of the bay, people were having breakfast in the many waterside restaurants. One man applauded us as we passed by, like we were La Tour de France Ancienne — old farts on e-bikes. Ludicrous as it might have been, it felt good anyhow.

Once again, we climbed and climbed and climbed. Not far from Parga, Gill’s battery quit functioning and she had to turn around to pick up a new bike from the boat (accompanied by Dimitris, who would never leave anyone on their own), which had already set sail and had to back up all the way to the dock. The really amazing part was that Gill caught up with us when we got to the next, you guessed it, castle. She’s a warrior! Dimitris caught up too, but he’s only twenty, a child, so of course he ought to have. 

Yes, another castle. We left the main hill to climb further  to see it, and I’m thinking, if we’re coming back the same way, maybe I should just wait here? But no, I’m out to prove something to myself I guess. So I chugged up with the rest of them, around hairpin turns on a narrow road, mostly thinking about the descent, how tricky it would be. 

This was the Castle of Anthousa, and despite my lack of anthousiasm in getting there (oh gawd, I’m so sorry for that!) it was a nice stop, and who should arrive there but the man who applauded us on the way out of Parga! He had ridden one of those tourist mini-trains, and how that thing got up the mountain is beyond me, but there it was, along with a handful of passengers. Knowing that such a vehicle was winding up a narrow mountain highway alleviated a lot of my concern about the likes of us cyclists holding up traffic. Drivers are very patient here. Anyhow, the gentleman couldn’t believe we’d ridden up here. Probably didn’t notice our bike batteries.

Anthousa Castle was built in 1814, therefore is much newer than Parga Castle, and in better shape. Still, I kept my fingers crossed going through the stone tunnels leading into the centre. Ali Pasha built this fortress to threaten Parga, which apparently was a final hold-out from the conquering Ottoman/Bulgarian.

After negotiating the predicted treachery of the narrow road down to the highway, the long slide downhill to our final destination was most welcome. This is the big advantage of making the climbs — as long as the road and the weather are good. This felt like a final reward for our week of intermittent torture. (I kid! I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything!)

We left the highway and slid into a green valley. We stopped at a shrine where a small miracle had once taken place, we were told. An icon of St. Athanasios allegedly disappeared from its church location and reappeared by an old olive tree. Twice. So a small church was built on the spot, and people come to the tree and place offerings in the hollow trunk in hopes of a cure for whatever ails them.

Frances does not need a cure

Offerings in the hollow trunk

 

The church at the shrine. I saw many small Orthodox churches looking just like this.

From the shrine, it was a 2-km ride to the shore, beautiful, empty, sandy Karavostasi Beach. There was a resort there, and we had refreshments poolside, waiting for the time the Panagiota would arrive in Arillas to pick us. Then we rode the last couple of kilometres to Arillas, the very last ride of the tour.

It was a perfect day for swimming, but no one was there.

The Seattle gang, a mix of doctors, nurses, and Microsoft techies

This is what I had envisioned for this trip: hanging out on a sunny deck. Today was the only day it happened.

We sailed a calm sea (!) back to Corfu, experienced a bit of culture shock as a handful of cruise ships came into view, and docked right at the old port in the centre of town, in sight of our ratty first-night hotel. 

Corfu's Old Fort

Cruise ships

The white building is our awful hotel from last week. The little building at sea level is En Plo, where we plan to have lunch in the next couple of days. Behind is the Old Fort.

Dimitris, a student of history, led us on a short walking tour of the town, but was abruptly stopped by a woman who stepped out of a church yard. We didn’t need to understand the language to know what was going on. Her lanyard indicated that she was an official guide, and she told Dimitris he was not allowed to deliver information to a group of people without a licence. There was nothing friendly about her demeanour. We walked away. 

The New Fort, Venetian. Note the winged lion of St. Mark

Priests

He took us to a gelateria and treated us all to gelato. That gelateria, which proclaims itself one of the best 100 in the world, is directly below the apartment we’ve rented for the next days in Corfu. We didn’t know that when we rented the place. Wahoo!!

Our last dinner was shipboard, another tired meal, I’m afraid, but followed by a rambunctious party and karaoke. “Sweet Caroline” was enough to start me shutting down. (This was the one tune our Moroccan guide played in the van on the Morocco tour, and sorry, I just don’t get it. Never could stand the tune, but people go crazy for it.) When my Apple watch told me for the third time that noise levels had exceeded 90 decibels, I sneaked out of there and settled into my gently rocking bed, but not until I bumped my head on the upper bunk for the 78th time. 

 

 

 

 

Meet the Ship

 Oct 9

 

It’s a very stormy afternoon as I write. There is lightning and thunder, the wind is howling, and the rain is coming down in sheets. I’m in the tiny cabin that will be our bedroom on the ship Panagiota for the next week. When we open the door, a spout of water pours in. We’ve been given a towel to sop it up.

I just looked at Nafplio weather, which we just left behind, and it’s sunny there, with temps in the high 20s. Here in Corfu, quite a different scene. It’s an effort to be optimistic for the week ahead. This stormy state apparently will last three days. 

We had a very pleasant morning, breakfasting outside as always, and wandering the port and the old town on a cloudy but warm day. It’s muggy here, the kind of air that gives your skin a sweaty sheen without having to work for it. 

This is just to be sure people understand the glam photo I posted yesterday. Here's us at breakfast, followed by ChatGPT's "improvement." 

Stemmed glasses, gold sandals, Chanel bag, boobs. Social ideals, yeah?

We caught a cab out to the Marina Gouvia to board our ship. In the cab, the storm began. On the walk down the long pier to the good ship Panagiota, we got soaked. I have a raincoat, but it’s not as rainproof as it used to be. Sigh. My umbrella flipped inside out more than once.

Ya gotta laugh at the absurdity of it all

We were the first guests to arrive, just at 2 pm, when we were first allowed to check in. Another soaking wet guest-to-be showed up to check that this was the right boat, then left to round up her 9 or 10 friends that were waiting in a bar on shore. They haven’t arrived yet, I don’t think, some three hours later. Can’t say I blame them. 

Frances, Giota (one of our guides), and self. Note horizontal flying hair.

Frances has named their room “The Cupboard.” It’s identical to ours. Was it Harry Potter who slept in a cupboard under the stairs? I bet his cupboard was dry, and he didn’t have to share it. Lucky guy, really.

We have figured out that two of us can stand at the same time, but not move, in the 1m x 2m floor space. We've figured out how to stash our stuff so that even one of us could move. This is the smallest berth I’ve had on such a boat, now my third time on a boat-and-bike trip. The little river barge was cavernous by comparison. Our beds are bunks, the bottom being a totally unnecessary double, and a narrow single above. There is no ladder; it’s a stretch to get up there, which will be Carol’s challenge, because I’m up in the night and she usually is not. 

Room to move

As Carol puts it, this room would be okay for a couple, who could sleep on the bottom and stash their stuff up top; she says the top is too high for a short person to get to, but headroom up there is too short for a tall person. Headroom is short on the bottom too. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve whacked my head. 

I want to know what kind of lens they used for the photos of this boat.

Our room has one socket for plugging in anything, such as chargers. While Carol only needs to charge her phone (and her watch once a week), I have a a laptop, a phone, an Apple watch, sleep earbuds, and hearing aids; we will also have to charge our bike batteries every day. I have a multi-port charger, so one socket is enough for my devices. But there is no place to set down said devices anywhere near the socket. I’m sure we’ll figure out something.

For a while the toilet didn’t flush. They fixed it. And the sink stopper wouldn’t come unstopped, and they fixed it. The light in the bathroom stopped working, but they fixed it. 

What I would love more than anything right now is to be soaking in a warm bath in my own home. Instead, I hear the drinking has started in the galley. I guess I’ll go and meet some people.

Goodbye Peloponnese, Hello Corfu

Oct 8

 
We were up at 6:45 am to pack up, load the car, and grab breakfast at “our” place on Syntagma Square, which opened at 7:30. We wanted to get an early start to catch our flight from Athens to Corfu at 1:10, only a two hour drive away, but we needed to allow for glitches with traffic and turning in the car.

Our rattle-trap Peugot, parked at Mycenae. Bigger than we'd wanted, but peppy enough

We ordered our regular vegetable omelettes, and even though we pointed to the item on the menu, the server somehow got it wrong, and we got omelettes that we more meat than egg. Disappointing for our last Peloponnese meal.

Not my idea of a great breakfast.

Driving was mostly smooth sailing, beautiful highways with toll booths popping up seemingly randomly. I think we went through five of those in all today. There was a traffic slow-down on the peripheral road around Athens, but nothing we needed to panic about. As for turning in the car, it was a breeze, as promised. The company we used, Swift, does not have a car-return spot at the airport, but rather sends a driver to meet us at the departure area. We pulled up, he arrived within ten minutes, and that was it. Highly recommended!

The Athens airport was a zoo, but manageable. Our flight was just an hour long. We landed in Corfu in threatening weather. Caught a cab that took forever on a parking lot of a route to our hotel. What struck us as we wound our way through town was how run down it seemed. The towns we've been in so far have been very well kept, but Corfu needs a face lift. You'd think there would be enough funding considering the thousands of tourists that hop off their cruise ships every day.

 

The Palace of St Michael and St George, sadly run down

Probably apartments. Most building in old Corfu Town looked like this.

Once checked in to our hotel room-for-four for the night, we wandered a bit in Old Corfu Town, much of which is like an Arabic medina, stall after stall of (in this case) tourist stuff on narrow twisting lanes. Crowds of people, most of whom were probably off the six or so huge cruise ships moored in the harbour. We stopped in at a restaurant off the noisy main streets and had a small meal of calamari and tzatziki.

Old Town is a network of tourist streets like this

One of some six cruise ships that left harbour in the evening, to be replaced by six more. The ferry is heading to Albania.

Back at the hotel, we waited for our Scottish friends, Gill and Frances, to arrive. We met Gill on our Croatia boat-and-bike trip last year. When Carol put the word out that we’d be doing this trip, Gill jumped right on it, and her biking friend Frances was all in. 

It was close to 10 pm when they finally arrived, and we all went out for dinner at a quiet Italian place, outdoors but under cover as a thunderstorm rolled in, bringing torrents of rain. We lingered until close to midnight, when the rain eased, then made our way back to the City Marina Hotel.

Gill had sent us a photo of the two of them in the Edinburgh airport, and they looked so fully glamorous, we thought we'd look like, I dunno, their pet dogs or something beside them. Turns out Gill is very into AI "improvements" in photos, and we were quite relieved when they turned up, looking like normal people. Here's us at dinner (not really!):

If you look closely, I have two right hands, one on the glass and one at my cheek. 

This hotel. This is the first one I really have anything to complain about — it’s a dump. The lobby is spiffy, completely misleading. The room we booked is a ‘family room,” actually two rooms with two narrow beds in each, and are basically acceptable. One room has a balcony overlooking the port, so no complaints there. But well, the bathroom was in need of a complete overhaul, with flaking chrome and mould and a stained tub, a hand-held shower (that fortunately worked well and provided plenty of hot water). There were long dark hairs in the sink from a previous guest and though the toilet had a label wrapped around the lid saying it was sanitized, the seat had some suspicious stains on it. The towels smelled like they’d been used too many times between washings. The flusher on the wall had a half-flush button that didn’t work, but the full-flush one did, thank goodness. The real kicker in this place was that when we came back from dinner and were approaching the elevator, a large rat ran under our feet and headed down some stairs. When we shrieked (I learned I can shriek!) the guy at the desk shushed us. Not sure he understood that a rat had just run by. I suppose the thing was escaping the storm. I was glad our room was three storeys up.