citinotes

Paradise on earth

“If you ever find yourself growing weary of admiring Corfu’s beauty, not even Paradise itself would be sufficient to satisfy you,” Therese Kracht penned in her travel notes in 1915. She was absolutely right. While one can endlessly extol the picturesque alleys of Corfu town, the warm hues of its facades, and its magnificent esplanade, it is only upon venturing into its verdant villages that one realizes Corfu is truly an Eden, waiting to be explored in the countryside.

It was Corfu’s breathtaking natural landscape that made the most lasting impression on me during my first visit to the island at the age of 13. In an era where online booking platforms were yet to be imagined and only a handful of friendly recommendations were available, my family opted for a more spontaneous approach. We hit the road, driving from one village to another, and stopping wherever a decent house with a rental sign hanging from its balcony caught our eye. Admittedly, it may not have been the most brilliant of ideas—considering we nearly spent the first night in the car and changed accommodations twice in three days. Nevertheless, this nomadic tactic led us to discover hidden gems that we might have otherwise overlooked. We spent hours hiking in the magnificent, verdant hills, immersing ourselves in the intense fragrances of Corfu’s landscape, characterized by pine trees, cypresses, and humid soil.

I vividly recall each destination we explored during those three days of hotel hunting: Kalami, a tranquil fishing village with its iconic beach house that once hosted the renowned Durrell family; the secluded villages of Agni, Nisaki, and Agios Stephanos, delicately dipping their toes into crystal-clear waters. One evening, just before sunset, we arrived at the shores of Paleokastritsa. I was nearly moved to tears by the breathtaking scenery of cypresses gracefully bending to “drink water from the sea,” a scene often poetically described by many writers in their travel notes.

To truly grasp the essence of those turquoise hues, I found myself swimming in the colors, attempting to fathom why so many writers resorted to fictional heroes and mythical creatures to articulate the beauty of these shores. In Paleokastritsa, Michel Déon (1919–2016) and Lawrence Durrell (1912–1990), both writers endowed with prodigious imaginations, skillfully transport their readers between myth and reality, weaving tales that traverse the realms of Homer and Shakespeare, Ulysses and Prospero, Heaven and Earth. Déon, a highly acclaimed French novelist and member of the Académie Française, who boasts an extensive travel record, eloquently describes Corfu as “a paradise on a human scale”: exquisitely beautiful yet marred by mortal flaws and misfortunes. According to Déon, Corfu is a gift bestowed upon Ulysses by the Gods as a means of forgiveness for his mistakes.

If your travel itinerary is tight on time, yet you yearn for a glimpse of paradise before your departure, board a bus and head to Monrepos royal mansion, just a 15-minute drive from Corfu town. Countless writers have succumbed to the enchantment of Monrepos and its exquisite gardens. The magic commences with the first steps beyond the tall, metallic gate. A winding alley leads you gradually into a captivating world where birdsong mingles with the rustling of enormous cypresses and pine trees. The air is saturated with the perfume of flowers, and ancient ruins transport you into a mythological setting reminiscent of etchings or historical books.

As you stroll, half-expecting Nausicaa or Ulysses to emerge around the next corner, a charming mansion unfolds before your astonished eyes. Take a pause at its neoclassical balcony, positioned just a few meters above the shore, and relish the most idyllic views of the sea and Corfu’s ancient fortress. I will forever cherish a summer evening when the full moon bathed the villa in its silver light, creating an unbelievably dreamy scene that made me believe violins played in my head. Perhaps only Arthur de Claparède (1852–1911), mentioned below, could have shared similar emotions when he visited the villa with its fabulous park—an exuberance of trees, flowers, and fresh fruits. De Claparède, a Swiss diplomat and one of the first travelers to circumnavigate the globe in 1876, penned a book entirely dedicated to the history, politics, and society of Corfu.

As the day gracefully comes to a close, I shut my eyes and envision myself hovering above the Corfiot horizon. I witness an expansive, plush carpet that gracefully folds and unfolds, casting shadows that accentuate the various shades of green. It’s a green that Joseph Reinach (1856–1921) astutely likens to the velvets in Veronese paintings—those sumptuous green fabrics that “Veronese carves the dresses of his Patricians” with. Reinach, a 19th-century French journalist who embarked on a journey to explore Eastern Europe at the age of 23, stands as another traveler captivated by the allure of Nausicaa’s island. I urge you to delve into his reflections on Corfiot nature. His portrayals of fragrant gardens adorned with succulent apricots and heady roses, with flocks of birds and palm trees gracefully pirouetting in the air, are simply poetic. Their lyrical beauty captures the very essence of this magnificent island, evoking the emotion of a robust heartbeat, the fluttering of butterflies in the stomach, and the enchantment of falling in love at first sight.

Citinotes

"The whole Mediterranean - the sculpture, the palm, the gold beads, the bearded heroes, the wine, the ideas, the ships, the moonlight, the winged gorgons, the bronze men, the philosophers – all of it seems to rise in the sour, pungent taste of these black olives between the teeth. […] A taste as old as cold water."

Lawrence Durrell, Prospero’s cell, Faber & Faber Limited, 1945.

chapter 1

Exhilarating nature

The profusion of vegetation, the heady fragrance of spring against the backdrop of the snow-capped peaks of Epirus, and the flawless composition of seascapes—this sensory spectrum can carry you to the very brink of seduction.

In Corfu, an aura of grace permeates everything, a result of a harmonious fusion between Greece and Italy: from the campanile of Saint Spyridon to the sun-kissed faces of villagers strolling barefoot along the streets; from the amphora or the white tin balanced delicately on a woman’s head, exuding the allure of a goddess, to the farmhouses adorned with grand colonnaded canopies; from the tender embrace of Garitsa Bay to the semi-tropical garden at Monrepos royal mansion. Even the simple cornfields in the plains of Ropa, bordered by silver olive trees against the backdrop of bucolic hills, contribute to this captivating frame.

[…] This emerald freshness acts as a soothing elixir. Hovering above the rugged landscapes of Ithaca or the shores of Parga, Corfu appears as a woven basket of grass tossed gently over the undulating waves.

Raymon Matton,
Corfou, Institut Français d’Athènes, 1960, in Κωνσταντίνος Τσουμάνης, Η Κέρκυρα μέσα από τα μάτια των περιηγητών, Έψιλον, 2010

This island is irresistibly charming. She carries herself like a woman well aware of her beauty, ceaselessly smiling to accentuate the moist transparency of her eyes, the lovely pink hue of her lips, and the two rows of pearls she holds in her mouth. […]

Here, you encounter sunbeams, the fragrances of roses and orange trees, delightful shades; water is ubiquitous, lively, melodic, and exquisite; groves filled with chattering birds; the gentle, golden light is a perpetual caress. From the summit of the citadel, the entire island unfolds like an expansive garden, its greenery reminiscent of the sumptuous velvets with which Veronese adorned the dresses of his patricians. Blue lakes and white villages sporadically emerge; the valleys plunge deep, while the hills exude a light, graceful presence, adorned in fields of green. Rocks are a rare sight, but when they do appear, they possess a placid and benevolent allure; one can scarcely envision Milton’s Eden or Theocritus’ Tempe looking any different. Yet unequivocally, this island, once Corckyra and the Phaeacia of Alcinoüs, does not solely belong to Greece. The gods adored in this perpetually blossoming garden are not our gods.

As you exit the city through any gate, you are immediately immersed in an expanse of verdant splendor—oaks, young elms, bay trees, colossal lemon trees, and rose bushes adorned with purple flowers as expansive as water lilies. There are forests of pink and white acacias, azaleas, eucalyptus, and magnificent clusters of palm trees. Each farmer tends to their own vegetable garden with meticulous care […].

We traverse a realm of fragrances. The coolness of the lawns evokes memories of English gardens, although the Corfiot ones are woven together like vast pieces of velvet. The banks of streams are speckled with daisies, anemones, and bells; flocks of birds twist and turn, serenading amidst forests of reeds.

[…] To me, the most enchanting aspect of Corfu is the azure sea that graces every vantage point: not just from lofty peaks but also within forests, gardens, and myriad viewpoints, where the glistening expanse unfolds like a polished mirror. In Pantaleone, the eye discerns the Adriatic stretching widely, resembling an immense channel nestled between the picturesque mountains of Albania and a faint, purple-hued line that marks Italy. A solitary rock emerges from the midst of the sea, resembling a ship in full sail…

Joseph Reinach,
Voyage en Orient, Charpentier, 1879, in Hervé Duchêne, Le voyage en Grèce : Du Moyen-Age au XXème siècle, 2003

chapter 2

Ulysse's refuge

The most renowned of shipwrecks was that of Ulysses. After 18 days at sea, past Calypso’s cave, navigating the straits of Scylla and Charybdis, beyond the shores of the Cyclopes in Sicily—finally, before Ulysses’ weary eyes, an island emerged, a realm dominated solely by the joy of life.

Its mountains intercept the clouds, and its fields turn lush green under the nurturing rains. Gardens abound with fruits, and olives drink from the nearby sea. Torrents cascade down the mountains, carving their riverbeds through rich, red soil. Everywhere, natural peaks adorn the landscape, alongside meadows where sheep graze; vines gracefully descend the steep mountain slopes; villages adorned with climbing vines; solitary beaches where weathered logs lean, offering their smooth, gray branches to the gentle caress of the sea […]. Ulysses discovers everything we continue to discover three thousand years after him.

Corfu, shimmering under the autumn rains, emitted, on that splendid December morning, a blue breath that lingered above the pine trees. We meandered through the village, where ladies sat cross-legged, meticulously picking olives amid the stones. Beneath their white head scarves tied around their necks, their faces, adorned with robust and harmonious features, bore a subtle tan. […] This island embodied abundance, a serene happiness whose origins were firmly embedded in a soil that was both solid and fertile.

I recall Nausicaa’s words regarding her people, the Phaeacians: a farsighted and adept community skilled in the art of weaving cloth and navigating ships, yet less inclined toward matters of war.

The Gods selected Corfu as the destination for Ulysses to return to the mortal life, a gesture of forgiveness towards the great hero. They bestowed upon him a paradise, a haven on a human scale where wine, fruits, oil, and herbs were cultivated and harvested through labor and intelligence, rather than materializing with a mere wave of a magic wand.

Michel Déon,
Le rendez-vous de Patmos, La Table Ronde, 1971

As you stroll through the countryside of Corfu, the gentle caress of autumn’s colors and scents will warmly welcome you, narrating the sweetness of life when nature and humanity intertwine in harmony.

Pavlos Paleologos,

Corfu my love, Saliveros, 1958

chapter 3

The Royal Villa

Across from the arch, on the opposite side of the road, emerges the entrance to the Monrepos royal villa. The lush exuberance of vegetation within this park evokes thoughts of Alcinous’ famed gardens, as vividly described in the Odyssey: ‘There,’ says Homer, ‘grew large flourishing trees; some bore pear and pomegranate, others boasted beautiful oranges, sweet figs, and green olives. These fruits never ceased their production, enduring through winter and summer alike; the breath of Zephyr ushered in new life and ripened others. In the place of an aged pear, a fresh one had sprouted; where an old apple, grape, or fig once stood, new varieties had taken their place. At the garden’s farthest reaches, an orchard thrived, yielding abundantly throughout the entire year… such were the magnificent gifts bestowed by the gods upon the residence of Alcinous.

[…] Naturally, there are villas in the world more opulent and aesthetically pleasing […]; yet, the splendor of the vegetation here is unparalleled—a tapestry of greenery beneath the towering palms and banana trees. The wisteria bushes are a vision; the fragrance of daphne fills the air; Banks’ roses, devoid of thorns, add to the charm; and there are orange, lemon, and fig trees reminiscent of those in Alcinous’ realm. Every plant that a moist soil nurtures under a scorching sky flourishes here in a harmonious blend, seldom requiring the gardener’s intervention.

The location of Monrepos, facing the sea, is truly idyllic. A pathway, winding through an orchard of olive trees, gently descends beneath the shade of towering trees to the water’s edge. At the heart of the park stands the villa, referred to as the casino, or the charming summer residence of King George, crafted by his predecessor Sir Thomas Maitland.

After strolling nearly a kilometer through the enchanting Monrepos park, the road, nestled halfway up the peninsula, meanders through meadows shaded by majestic olive trees. Scattered across this landscape, one discovers vegetable gardens and quaint farmhouses with low ground floors, their walls adorned with ancient fragments. These charming dwellings, partly concealed beneath the embracing foliage of rose bushes, cacti, and cypress trees, emanate a rustic allure. The air is permeated with the fragrant abundance of roses that flourish in profusion.

Arthur de Claparède,
Corfou et les Corfiotes, H. Kündig, 1900