The Invasion

Yes, it's that time of year again when Corfu is invaded by Italians. From now until about 20 August the island will be bursting at the seams as yet more ferries arrive with car-loads of Italians.

The Corfiots are fond of Italians and seem to get along with their fiery temperaments in some ways better than our cooler British personalities. It seems that every Corfiot has a smattering of Italian, presumably picked up each year during this busy period. Many years ago, when I had a tourist shop in Barbati, I very quickly learned some useful phrases such as "No sconto" and to count enough to ask for the correct money!

I love (and hate) watching the glamourous Italian ladies on the beach. They all seem to be beautiful and they don't just have a matching bikini and sarong like me, but their colour co-ordination goes on to flip-flops, hair band, jewellery, beach bag, beach towel, Evian spray, and cool bag to keep said spray cool. It must be such hard work for them!

I saw the funniest thing last year on the road. Driving along a straight stretch, there was a queue of traffic which was going very slowly. In the front were two girls on a moped (obviously Italian). The one on the back was wearing a miniscule bikini with a g-string back and a kind of see-through lacy thing on the top. Her bottom was completely visible on the back of the bike, and none of the motorists wanted to overtake.

This is the time of the summer where you need to allow twice as long to reach your destination, and don't expect to be able to park when you get there!
Sarah

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Dogs And Builders Just Don't Mix

We are building houses in St. Georges and we have two teams of builders working. Our own house has been leaking like a sieve for the past few years but the time is never right to take off the roof to replace it. This year - after the earlier hail and rainstorms - we decided we could not last another winter without a new roof.

Logically we should take one of the building teams to do our house, but for some inexplicable reason my husband employed a third team - “well recommended” - so that we did not delay the building in St. Georges. Good plan.

On the prescribed day (after daughter went back to London and before son arrived from London) the team arrived. One man and his wife. Now we have at least three, sometimes four or five, and we still have the first builder and his wife.

Our dog Scruff is used to having his own dog-proofed garden which has been made escape-proof because he is prone to chase cars and chickens. First rule to builders - don't let the dog out! First action of builders - they left the back fence totally open and off he went. Finally cornered him before he hit the road with the car and dire threats! New plan; dog is either indoors in his (my) armchair or tied up in the front garden, then when I come home and the builders leave at around 4pm I do a circuit of the garden to close all ways of escape and Scruff runs free. This enables him to root about for any rubbish they have left behind (yesterday 6 sardine tins, 8 water bottles, carrier bags, coffee cups etc.) and distribute them all over the garden as he enjoys himself running through any wet concrete left behind. Theoretically he is free to run until 7am when they arrive to start the new day.

Except yesterday I closed the garden and went out to show houses at 6.30pm leaving Scruff peacefully wandering. I happened to be showing the house next door to mine to the clients and as we looked around the garden I spotted a brown flash at the top of the next field - Scruff. Asked clients to wait (they were very understanding), jumped in car (thank god for Fiat Panda 4 x 4), bumped over the field, trapped him by a fence where he was making friends with two boxer dogs, dragged him in the car, hurtled back home, tied him up and went back for clients. Great amusement all round.

Later on I checked how he got out. The builders had kindly left pallets piled up by the fence and he had used them to climb up and over. So I spent a happy half hour upending pallets, dragging old sunbeds, bits of wood and general junk to block the exit, and it seemed to work.

This morning,at 7am the builders very carefully took it all down, opening up the gap again, and the guys who delivered the roof tiles and wood dropped them over the fence - only they didn't… they dropped them on the fence which has now collapsed. So the dog stays either in my chair or tied up for as long as it takes.

Oh yes, and they just came to move the solar panels out of the way so I suspect we have a 'limited' water supply.
Our villa in Halikouna is empty this week and we have one St. George show house empty and the temptation is to move to one of those but how can I face a total removal, not just for us - son arrives on Sunday for a month - but also for the dog! So anyone who sees me, if I have dust and debris in my hair (a piece of ceiling fell in my coffee as I write this) please be sympathetic!
Diana

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Some Things Never Change

When I first came to live in Corfu, many of the villagers did their shoping from the little lorries that drove around the island with all their wares hanging off the side of the lorry. This has faded away to a certain extent but last week I was out with some clients, doing the round of a selection of properties.

On our way to the first piece of land in Boukari we saw a lorry laden with bedspreads hanging everywhere - on the back, on the tailboard, on the sides, on the bonnet - as it made its way down the tiny beach road which winds down the south coast from Messonghi, through Boukari, and on down to the fishing village of Petriti. Through the loudspeaker he announced that all his stock was 15 euros.

We looked at the land, went to the next piece of land, then a potentially lovely development just crying out to be completed, and then started up the hill inland. Half way up the steep hill we saw him again approaching the village of Kouspades. We went off to look at another village house, then started back down towards the coast and there he was again!

We veered off to a tiny beach called Kaliviotis (I had heard of it but despite having lived here for more than 25 years I had never actually been) and the phrase “off the beaten track” certainly applies. We looked at a house nearby, wandered down to the beach, chatted to some of the locals who have built their houses right by the beach, watched a couple of fishing boats come in, and then left to head back towards Corfu Town.

On one of the dirt track roads, what a surprise, there he was again - dust flying up from the wheels and all the bedspreads hung on the lorry, with the loudspeaker blaring - the best bedspreads on the planet, now only 11 euros each!

We stopped briefly in the village of Argyrades and then left for our final stretch back up the coast on the main road and yes, there he was again!

In all that time I never saw anyone stop him to buy anything but he never stopped trying. In fact when I left home the next morning I half expected to see him just down the road from my house, still proclaiming the 'best bedspreads on the planet'! Nice to see some things don't change.
Diana

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A Baptism

The trouble with making regular contributions to a blog like this one is that if you are actually doing lots of interesting stuff you don't have time to write about it afterwards.

I've had a really busy two weeks, with my three UK-based sons visiting us in Corfu, plus my sister-in-law and niece from Athens, for the christening of our first grandchild - daughter of Mia and Marcus, the editors of Island Magazine.

It was a case of all hands on deck to help with the provision of a huge celebratory feast after the baptism service which took place in the Monastery of Vlaherena in Skripero.

The Greek Orthodox ceremony is an amazing experience. The first part - at the back of the church - is basically an exorcism, during which the godparent undertakes to denounce evil powers on behalf of the baby.

Only after the child has thus been cleansed do the participants
(mother, baby, godparent and priest) move to the front of the church for the baptism. To be absolutely sure of doing a proper job, no part of the baby is left un-wetted - but luckily the star of the proceedings soon recovered from the ordeal to rejoice in her, now official, name of Phaedra Valentina.

Traditionally, she should have been known only as Beba until after the christening, and sometimes a godparent takes it upon his or herself to choose the baby's name, so that the parents only learn what their child will be called when it is too late to wish they had chosen a godparent with better taste!

One of my English friends in Athens experienced this first hand. She thought the godfather was joking when he told her that it was his job to give the baby's name to the priest, and her precious little one went in to the church as Ben and came out as Poseidon!
Susan

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A Quick Dip

The beach equivalent of the people who park so close to the supermarket door that you have to squeeze your trolley through a tiny space, is the owner of the car in my photo, who arrived on Barbati beach one day last week. Obviously his swim was going to use up so much energy that he couldn't face walking from one of the many parking spaces further up the lane.
Susan

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Starbucks With A Difference

On our way back from looking at a wonderful plot of land right on the sea near Aghios Gordis, Diana and I found ourselves with not quite enough time to go into the office - it takes too long to find somewhere to park, which is then usually at least 15 minutes walk from the office, but we had some paperwork to complete so found ourselves with a lovely excuse to visit the newly opened Corfu branch of Starbucks!

We each chose a very healthy fresh fruit juice and then ruined the effect by sharing the most wonderfully wicked caramel chocolate brownie - very highly recommended by both of us.

We managed to have a successful "working snack" but it somehow just didn't feel right to be listening to Bob Marley in the background, in a coffee shop that we both associate with city life, and yet looking out over an archetypal Corfu view of Mouse Island and Vlaherna Monastery (above).
Susan

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Flotsam

Today we have had very strong "maestral" winds, around force seven. Driving up the north-east coast the sea was a vivid blue and the white horses were being whipped up by the wind into a fine spray across the top of the blue. Very exciting.

Despite the obvious strong offshore winds, the beaches were busy and many holidaymakers had their lilos out as usual. Many a time I have seen people blown far out to sea, only to find that they are unable to paddle back in again. Some abandon their lilos and swim back, others hang on (bravely/foolishly?) and are rescued by one of the boats in the area. What I always wonder though, is where do all the abandoned lilos go? I can feel a song coming on...
Sarah

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