June 20: Talk about gear shifting! Can we please go back to Dubrovnik? Corfu is hot as balls, crowded, touristy, chaotic, and we were assaulted by a one-legged pigeon.  What a way to spend 3 hours when you’re already feeling under the weather, wandering through the masses and the madness of a foreign town.  I wanted to hurl as soon as the wall of heat hit me as we made our way across the port’s hot pavement to score a taxi.  We must find a cafe.  We must find food and drink.  Immediately!

We didn’t even get ourselves together and off of the Insignia until almost 3 pm.  And it’s entirely possible that one reason is due to having a little too much wine and festivities, topped off with that yummy French martini in the casino last night.  My husband was in slightly better shape, but still not as anxious to run right off the boat into Corfu as I thought he’d want to.

The taxi driver dumped us off right in the heart of downtown, which is exactly what we told him to do.  “Take us to the middle of everything,” we said.  The only way to get to know a foreign place is to just start somewhere and explore.  Unless you’re the type that likes those pricey guided tourist excursions where you’re all bunched up with a big group of who knows what from who knows where, and being told what time to meet, where to go, how to do it, etc., etc., etc.  No thank you!  A little research and a sense of adventure will take you much further.

But so much for feeling taken “further”, at least for the first few moments, anyway.  Upon exiting the taxi was a sight all too common, and slightly disenchanting to see in city and country that we traveled so far to see for its unique cultural nativities.  Is there any place in the world that is spared?  Any place at all that is still virginal to the contamination of an American brand force that is literally eating its way around the world?  I’m speaking, of course, of the clown and his golden arches.  Right then and there I raised my boxy disposable camera and clicked.  I now have a need to document this phenomenon should it be found again in any place we go from here on end.  Phooey!  (The place was jam-packed, by the way!)

Meandering around town was intriguing. It was apparent straight away that Corfu is highly tourist driven and there is no shortage of shops and vendors lining each and every street and alleyway one right after the other, offering competitive bargains for the same merchandise as the bay next door.  We had a lot to do.  We were on a mission for evil-eyes for the family and more sterling silver icons for Evangeline’s collection - my mother-in-law, also known as Yia Yia (grandmother in Greek).  Our luggage didn’t arrive yesterday, so it would probably be smart to at least find a dress to wear to dinner tonight.  And we had to go find an Orthodox church to light a candle.

A corner boutique displaying some magnificent evil-eye jewelry and pendants caught our attention, but even more so, the shop’s owner named Viktor, was standing on the sidewalk singing an operatic tune in Greek.  And once my husband greeted him speaking Greek, well, we were now part of the family, privvy to the Greeks’ way of warm hospitality.  We met his wife, mother, brother, sister, brother-in-law, and I think that’s all, along with some random friends that popped in and out.  Viktor’s mother promptly fed us some of her kalitsounia kritis she made that morning, which is a delicious cheese pastry from her home island of Crete, as she explained.  Now I was starting to feel better!  And after about 45 minutes of bonding and discussing family roots and the people that the Kalivretenos’ and Viktor’s families may know in common, we left the shop with a bag full of evil-eye bracelets and pendants attached to safety pins that were now priceless, despite the very modest amount of money we paid.

Still in urgent need for sit-down food and drink, we continued on our way.  Wearily strolling up to a comfortable, shady table of one of the many outdoor cafes, I practically collapsed in my chair.  Greek club music was flowing out from the inside and the menu was contemporary.  The mezethes, or snacks that were put on the table consisted of these interesting smokey paprika-like spiced tortilla chips; a smashed chick pea dip surrounded by a moat of rich extra virgin olive oil that was much more garlicky and chunkier than hummus; and a small bowl of mixed nuts.  We had our nice cold bottles of water and were just getting settled into our comfort zones, already feeling better with the anticipation of our authentic Greek salads, when IT arrived…a very hungry, and a very assertive pigeon, doning one leg and an agenda.

Swooped on to the neighboring table, he hobbled back and forth, examining us with a squinty orange eye and bopping head.  At first it was kinda funny.  We were giggling at him, calling him “pirate pigeon” and “peg-leg”.  But then it quickly became eerie as the crazy thing seemed to understand exactly what we were saying, and he took a retaliatory leap, landing on our table and taking a shot at our grub!  Well, for what this little guy was lacking in a leg, he certainly made up for in persistance, because he tried at it again no fewer than five times.  Pirate pigeon was missing a leg, but definitely had some balls.

No doubt that this very quick, itty-bitty taste of Greece was not the country my husband’s parents came from, but it was flavorful nonetheless, as only Greece can be.  We accomplished what we came to do.  At 83 years old, Eve’s biggest desire remaining in her long and amazing life is to see her homeland again, to visit her relatives in Athens, and her husband’s in Kalavrita.  So our return absolutely will be just about that - bringing Eve home.

<3, JMK

Filed under: Greece, Travel & Galavanting