James Rowe: Corfu’s secret beaches, mountain villages, and warm hospitality make it the perfect place for a getaway.
Hello, I’m James Rowe and welcome to Which Shorts, your free weekly insight into Which? magazine, as well as our money, tech, travel, and gardening titles, too.
Today, I’m bringing you a piece that Naomi Leach, the deputy editor of Which? Travel, wrote for the September/October issue of Which? Travel all about her experience of Corfu. Now, this Greek island isn’t a hidden gem waiting to be discovered – not by any means. But as Naomi explains, heading out of the peak summer season in autumn or spring, and indeed going off the beaten track, can open your eyes to a side of Corfu that you haven’t seen before.
Here’s Naomi’s piece, adapted for the podcast this week, read by Naomi herself.
Naomi Leach: I wouldn’t have blamed Odysseus if he’d called it a day in Corfu, his penultimate stop on a fraught ten-year journey home. A shipwrecked stranger, he was welcomed here with philoxenia, a cultural code of hospitality that still prevails on my late-spring visit. With a population of just 100,000, the island hosts up to two million tourists a year, its rhythm and traffic swelling each summer. But outside this peak, I find quiet roads, restaurant tables without a reservation, and time for lingering conversations with locals. As for Odysseus, after feasting and sharing his story with King Alcinous, the generous Phaeacians even gifted him a ship and a crew so he could finally return to Ithaca.
All eyes are on the Greek islands after Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster The Odyssey, based on Homer’s ancient epic poem, hit the cinemas this summer. Sitting under the shade of a mulberry tree gazing across a vineyard, I take a mouthful of feta and ginger chutney washed down with homemade rosé and start to wonder why this isn’t my everyday life. You might assume wanting to relocate is just an occupational hazard, but I can’t recall another trip where it struck me so vividly.
One of the greenest Greek islands, Corfu’s rugged mountains are draped in olive groves and cypress forests, studded with wildflowers. Forget the whitewashed cobblestones and blue-domed churches of the parched Cyclades. This Ionian beauty’s warm, earth-toned villages with terracotta rooftops and green shutters were honed into the landscape by Venetian, French, and British settlers. From secret coves and lofty peaks, Corfu’s uninterrupted horizon looks endless.
Poseidon is as capricious as ever, and I soon understand why Odysseus struggled on this coastline. "Are you sure you want to go further out to Yali Beach?" our guide Theodoros asks. With a concerned expression, he’s been assessing the waves and winds throughout our caves and beaches tour of Palaiokastritsa. The choppy turquoise swirl looks inviting, but Theodoros is not impressed. "July and August are better – like a mirror with much more clarity," he explains.
We’ve stopped at Chomi Beach, also known as Paradise Beach, and it’s a ribbon of sand, only accessible by boat, where Odysseus is said to have washed up. Theodoros is worried that the undercurrent here is too strong for a swim. Instead, we carve through crashing waves, knuckles gripping the boat’s edge, laughter rippling among us as sea spray crusts our hair with salt.
At Golden Yali, wild goats graze on the steep, grassy cliffs next to ropes dangling perilously close to the shore. Today, a handful of beachgoers have made the dangerous climb down while a pair of boats are moored nearby. We retreat, passing La Grotta Bay – of For Your Eyes Only fame – which has been colonised by sunseekers and cocktail lovers who have braved its 144 steps down to the water’s edge. But it’s at peaceful Limni Beach, a cove where two beaches connect to the mainland, that we drop anchor. Finally, we slip into the Ionian Sea’s cool embrace.
From the hilltop monastery of Palaiokastritsa, I steal more glimpses of Corfu’s enviable good looks. Magenta bougainvilleas trail over honeystone archways leading to a cloister and clock tower. A religious haven since the 13th century, it has a small Greek Orthodox church at its heart. Inside, the hushed sanctuary flickers with candlelight as worshippers kiss the gilded iconostasis. Dazzled by daylight on exiting, I follow neon butterflies up a cobblestone staircase. Then, upon entering an aromatic garden with a seascape backdrop, it’s easy to understand the enchantment of the faithful. But it’s over an oily pork souvla, seasoned to perfection and paired with tangy tzatziki later that day, that I’m utterly convinced of Corfu’s heavenly status.
I’ve driven up to the balcony village Lakones, enduring numerous hairpin bends and even a seven-and-a-half-minute one-way traffic stop to safely ascend the narrow road to the unassuming Bella Vista café. Pot plants, dreamcatchers, and chandeliers dance in the breeze above me, but the epic panorama captures all my attention. Clouds sweep over the slopes of Mount Arakli, while lush forests and a dreamy, jewel-toned bay unfurl below. Unhurried, I watch sunlight dapple over the canopy, with a traditional kebab and juicy salad proving a better showtime refreshment than popcorn.
Home to arguably the world’s best olive oil, kumquat liqueur, and indigenous wines name-checked by Homer, I’m surprised to discover the Corfiot cuisine is spicy. Slow-cooked beef or veal casserole, pastitsada, is infused with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves, and more, while fish stew, bourdeto, packs a pepper and paprika punch.
Under Venetian rule, Corfu was an important stop on the spice trade route, with influences and ingredients from France, England, India, and the Americas seeping into Ionian kitchens. Using more spices was a way to show off your wealth," we’re told by oenologist Maria, an expert in the study of wine, at Ambelonas vineyard and olive grove. During a local food and wine tasting, we pair figs with cheese, salami, and spicy chutneys, and sample ancient white Kakotrigis wine and red Skopelitiko. It’s this wine estate that triggers my relocation epiphany.
Of course, I’m not the first Brit to fall under Corfu’s spell. The Durrells have left a lasting impression here. In the capital, busts of Lawrence and Gerald can be found in Bosketo, sometimes dubbed Durrells’ Gardens. And with birdsong as the soundtrack and butterflies and bees as the background characters during my visit, it’s easy to see how the diversity of flowers and fauna inspired naturalist Gerald’s My Family and Other Animals. But as I approach the northeast of the island, his novelist brother Lawrence’s muse for Prospero’s Cell comes into view.
Perched at the edge of the village, the White House – Lawrence Durrell’s 1930s home – overlooks Kalami Bay. It’s a traditional whitewashed guesthouse with green shutters and wisteria dangling over the courtyard. Now a restaurant entrusted to a Michelin-starred chef, Lefteris Lazarou, tables are scattered along the shoreline amidst the lilacs and olive trees. I slather taramasalata over chunks of bread, followed by a generous portion of grilled octopus on a bed of fava beans and greens. Delicious. I can forgive the feta mousse hiding in my salad, and even the high prices, because it effortlessly delivers an elevated yet genial dining experience.
Turquoise waves froth over the rocks below. Motor and sailboats drift out from a nearby jetty, while Albania’s indigo mountains recline across the horizon just two and a half nautical miles away. There’s a hammock for reveries and scribbling stories. I linger, knowing my mind will wander back to this idyllic spot on drizzly days in England.
The only visitors that were not welcome in Corfu were pirates and mosquitoes, which is why some villages were built in such remote mountain locations. Driving further north from Kalami, scaling the slopes of Mount Pantokrator, I arrive at Corfu’s oldest village, Old Perithia. Founded in the 14th century, this prosperous agricultural community peaked at 1,200 residents living in 130 Venetian-style stone buildings. Now, it’s home to just three people and three cats.
Rural flight saw Old Perithia abandoned in the 1950s until recently, an international couple restored a handful of properties to share the serenity with overnight guests. By day, I peek into a derelict school, crumbling mansions, and empty churchyards, imagining the vibrant life that once coursed through this village. Close your eyes, and you can almost hear the echo of church bells, children’s frantic footsteps running amok, and the metal clang of farmers dragging their tools home. Open them, and Old Perithia’s cobbled streets weave past mountain vistas to a sun-drenched village square.
Here, five tavernas are manned by locals from New Perithia, who drive up each day to sell gyros, freddo espressos, and homemade ice cream topped with local honey to daytrippers, disorientated by the sense of stepping onto an empty film set. In the terrace of Taverna Ognisko, which dates back to 1863, a radio lilts and our conversation is interrupted each time birds skim overhead, refusing to reroute their ancestors’ flight path of centuries.
By evening, the stray tourists and humidity have receded. Cicadas, crickets, ants, dragonflies, birds, bats, and bees have the stage for a twilight performance. I’m gazing at the constellations searching for the North Star when I spot luminous Venus and Jupiter in conjunction – a rare, auspicious display. Old Perithia’s ancient rural community must have felt a powerful celestial connection up here in the stars.
And that’s the beauty of Corfu. Its legacy and legends still live close to the surface. Drive away from the resorts and it’s easy to find these authentic pockets of tradition, food, and landscapes that let you time slip. Best of all, the xenia Homer described over 2,000 years ago lives on.
James Rowe: That brings to an end another podcast from Which?. There’s loads more for you to read about everything we discussed today, just head to the episode description for more useful everyday advice. There, you’ll also find an exclusive offer for podcast listeners like you to become a Which? member for 50% off the usual price, giving you access to our product reviews, our app, 1-to-1 personalised buying advice, and every issue of Which? magazine across the year. Plus, your membership helps us to make life simpler, fairer, and safer for everyone.
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Goodbye.
