Corfu Day One

 Time to explore. The main feature of this island is The Old Fort which was built by The Venetian Empire roughly a zillion years ago. With access to a kettle in my apartment, I brewed myself a cup of tea. The first I’ve had in weeks. As part of my effort to do as the Romans do, I’ve had almost nothing but espresso in the mornings since I got to Europe. The satchet of Ceylon is familiar and feels like talking to an old friend maybe I’ll have another soon.

On my way to the fort I stopped at a bakery for a snack. Spinach, feta, and phyllo all wrapped into a hand seized package fit for walking around. I parked myself in the plaza overlooking the fort and snacked. Crunchy phyllo and a good view. I think I like Greece. 

I walked into the fort, it is a massive and strange structure. The peninsula it is built on has always had some sort of stronghold on it or another. The bulk of what you can see there today was put there by the Venetians when they conquered the island. As other countries came in they added a building here or there in their own style. Consequentially, it is a complex of incongruous buildings glued together by time. I haven’t seen anything like it before. 

Bricks from the British Barracks

I walked up to the fort and overheard something I do not normally hear, people speaking in English. I have not had a conversation in person since I left Rome. I feel like I had almost forgotten how to speak English. Brian and Beth are originally from Canada. After they retired, they sold their home and now travel the world. They find people who need house sitters or projects done, taking on things like home improvement projects along the way. Fascinating. They were kind enough to invite me to come along with them and as my calendar is empty, I gleefully accepted.

I’ve been bumping into all kinds of people on this trip and getting a taste of how different folks in different stages of life explore. Humans are endlessly creative. For these two, they get to hang out in a spot for a couple months and really get to know a place. It is economical and since they aren’t rushed like me, they do not have to suffer cultural fatigue.

We wandered and explored the fortress chattering away about who we are and where we’ve been. There are people who recognize the loneliness of the road. Just finding anyone who speaks English enough to use idioms is hard. Finding someone who you can talk news with and joke with is almost impossible.

After getting to know each other and wandering the fort, we cut over to the Asian art museum. When my host, Spiros, first told me about this place I assumed his English had failed him. He described to me a grand palace on the island full of Asian art. That’s exactly what it was.

The palace was built by the English in a style to fit the local Venetian architecture. The one time I’ve ever heard of the British empire bowing its head to the local style. We walked hall after hall of gorgeous pieces from all over the continent. Every region is represented. Japanese watercolors. Korean lacquer. Chinese porcelain. Uzbek clothes. Indian wood carvings. Bronze statues from Thailand. 

Don’t ask me what this was. Just take it in.

As we walked the halls the big question on our minds was why the Hell is such a museum on this tiny island. The story is as bizarre as you might expect. There was a Greek ambassador to Austria by the name of Manos who was an avid collector of Japanese art. By the time he left the diplomatic service in the 1910s, he was the foremost expert on Asian art in Greece. He offered to give his collection to the state on the condition that it be displayed in a museum, that the museum would be in Corfu, and that he could be the curator for life. The state agreed and supplied him with the empty palace, which became his home, and a salary. He opened the place a few months before he died feeling regret that he had not been recognized enough for his efforts. Tale as old as time. Other collectors have given pieces since and is is still, somehow, the only Asian art museum in the country.

Having completed an afternoon of walking, talking, and thinking, we reckoned now was as good a time as any for lunch. Off to a restaurant in the old town specializing in local cuisine. Our table had a wide spread, the food here is unique. A gyro platter with no tzatziki, apparently they ran out and decided to tell us after they made it. Pastitsio, which is a cousin of lasagna. A layer of short noodles. A layer of ground beef. A layer of bechamel that seems too thick to be edible but is actually delicious. The last dish was some sort of cabbage meatball stew. Served on a plate and eaten with a fork. Lots of dill and lemon. Everything was fantastic after the cook decided he was going to find some tzatziki after all.

House sitters network through Facebook and through one of these groups Brian and Beth found another Brian and Beth. Our next stop of the day was to meet them for the first time. We settled down for a drink and the two couples got to talking. The second BnB hail from Denver and recently sold their house for the wandering lifestyle. They’re a few weeks in and loving it. Watching the four of them talk was interesting. Lots of information being shared about how to navigate visas, medicine, and finances while abroad. Much of this wisdom was not for me. Luckily my health is holding up and I won’t be anywhere long enough to have to worry much about long term finances. Good stuff.

Round about now the west coast was waking up and I was due for a check in with Devin. He’s running the day to day of The Long Beach Bike Co Op while I’m out and we’ve been due for a sync. He’s done a lot of great work and now it is time to think about how to get this org really sustainable. The LBBC helps people fix their bicycles by providing them with access to tools, knowledge, and parts. We do this by running a bike shop where anyone can learn to fix their bicycle. Opening something like that is hard. Keeping it open is harder. We’re lucky to have an enthusiastic landlord right now but it behooves us to get our fundraising game locked in sooner rather than later.

Since I’d worked today it was now beer o’clock. I wandered off to a nearby bar and bumped into a familiar face, the waiter from the last bar where B&B&B&B and myself grabbed a drink. He’s from Paxos, a small island just to the south of here. Note to self, book lodging. He loved Greece but is too ambitious for the small pond he’s swimming inside. His dream is to go to Miami and seek his fortune. He’s got the energy of a club promoter, I’m sure he’ll do fine there.

Beer becomes beer nap becomes oh wow ten and night and I need dinner. Luckily the people here eat fairly late and my craving for souvlaki was easily sated. I’ll never eat it again, they just do too good of a job here. Perfectly charred edges, liquified fats, and meat so tender it may not be meat at all. Let’s not forget the garlic sauce. Wow.

Beer nap becomes souvlaki nap.