Slowing down in Corfu

We celebrated one year on the road by taking our longest ‘break’ yet – staying a whole six nights in one place! Katie (my sister) and her husband Andy had invited us to join them for part of their summer holiday in a quiet corner of northern Corfu. A minor children-to-bedrooms counting error meant that there wasn’t quite room for us in the villa, but they weren’t getting rid of us that easily, so we stayed in a very peaceful little studio just down the road and spent our days freeloading from the villa-dwellers.

To be honest, we spent the vast majority of our time on Corfu eating baklava (I wanted Katie to do a guest post on her tasting notes but she kept eating them before we’d had a chance to take a photo!) but we did manage to clean the honey off our sticky paws for long enough to do a couple of activities…

The 14-minute monastery visit

Mum had visited Corfu on a cruise when she was 15 years old and recalled that the view from the Monastery of Paleokastritsa, which is perched on a rocky headland, was absolutely magical. Unfortunately, in the intervening years there has been quite a lot of development along this coastline and it took us rather longer than expected to get there. So, true to form, we screeched into the carpark at 12.46, knowing that the monastery would shut for the afternoon in just 14 minutes. No matter, Oli and I thought – we’ve explored monasteries in literally half this time! It didn’t help that the church and museum had closed early, but we still managed to admire the flower-filled courtyards and see the view down to the turquoise sea below, which was just as gorgeous as billed.

On our way back, we stopped at a viewpoint for an ice cream and an absolutely epic panoramic view of the coastline. Corfu is incredibly mountainous, which does make for some slightly hairy driving conditions, but it is so beautiful as a result.

The boat trip

Last time we were in Corfu (also as a family), we hired a boat for the day and had the most hilariously disastrous time that we still cry with laughter when reminiscing about it. Short of sinking the boat, pretty much everything else went wrong, including losing all the lifejackets off the back of the boat, getting caught in the wind and veering dangerously close to the Rothschilds’ yacht, leaving a crew member behind while a restaurant full of judgy boaty-types looked on, and dredging the harbour with our anchor.

We were roughly evenly split between those who thought we’d come a long way since then (with very little evidence of why this might be, may I say) and those of us who were convinced that our luck would run out this time and we might actually sink the boat.

We set sail from Agios Stefanos with a new captain (Andy – Dad had demoted himself to the rank of Ship’s Dog this time) and headed up the coast to The White House, famous as being the Durrells’ house (of My Family and Other Animals fame).

We still got laughed at by people dining at The White House as we moored there for lunch (but this time for dropping just one life jacket in the sea – they should have seen us last time), but otherwise, the day was glorious and almost incident-free!

The seafood feast

Oli are I aren’t big seafood eaters, but we hate to miss out on local specialities, so we tagged along on an evening expedition to a place simply known as the fish restaurant (at least among us – it turns out it did have an actual name!). There was no menu; instead we were invited into the kitchen to pick from the catch of the day, which would then be prepared for us and served with some simple (read: very generous) side dishes.

Of course, we got totally carried away and selected a genuinely enormous seabass to share, plus a couple of squid just because they looked good.

By the time we’d gorged on the plates of fried whitebait and baskets of fresh bread served with local olive oil that were brought out as a complimentary starter, we were filling up and more than a little apprehensive about what was to come. In the end, though, it was some of the best fish I’ve ever eaten, and between us we very nearly did it justice.

We couldn’t believe it when they told us that the seabass had been prepared with no salt or pepper – it tasted so perfectly seasoned, but we concluded that must have been the salt from the sea doing a great job. When the lovely staff brought us a complimentary dessert (a tenet of Greek hospitality that still somehow takes us by surprise every time), we were in real trouble and there were some very full bellies that evening.

The pool party

William turned six while we were in Corfu, so naturally he had a pool party to celebrate. This included activities such as pin the tail on the donkey (which resulted in no injuries except to the donkey), and a water fight (which resulted in so many injuries to both teams that we had to set up a field hospital).

Unfortunately, the kids’ diving competition had to be cancelled because the adults got slightly carried away by a lilo surfing display. Even though everyone agreed that this was a recipe for disaster, the display continued to chants of “Lilo surf! Lilo surf!” until the lilo had had enough of the abuse and abruptly burst in the pool.

Katie was still lamenting the loss of her new lilo when we realised with horror that it was spilling millions of tiny, sparkly confetti into the pool. The villa’s owner had made very clear that we should be really careful not to put anything into the pool in case the filter blocked, so we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening armed with nets, brooms, sieves, colanders, and (my favourite) a tea strainer trying to clear up the mess we’d made. We actually got most of it, but we all agreed that any undue good fortune we’d had in not sinking our boat a few days ago had well and truly run out today!

The next morning, Oli and I were due to leave, which seemed like excellent timing given the villa’s owner was due to come round for daily pool maintenance and would surely spot the pesky last few pieces of confetti. In the end, he said it wasn’t a problem and instead recounted a tale of how previous guests had deliberately poured spaghetti bolognese into the pool! But by this point, we’d skipped the country and were on a ferry bound for Albania…

Setting sail for Greece 🇮🇹🛳🇬🇷

From lovely Brisighella, we hopped back onto the rail replacement bus (our favourite) and then a train to reach Ancona, from where we would board our international ferry to Greece.

We’d read that Ancona was a typical port city but that we’d uncover its charms if we just gave it a chance. To be honest, that wasn’t necessary – we passed through this arch even before we’d reached our accommodation and it was a stunning introduction to the city.

With less than 24 hours in town, we headed straight up to the cathedral, which sits atop a cliff overlooking the city. I tried feeding Oli to the lions who were guarding the door, but they weren’t very hungry.

From our vantage point, we had a great view over the old town and the port, but we were particularly taken with the sunset over the shipbuilding yard (romantic)! We could see the components of a huge ship being assembled on the dock and some parts were so large they looked like blocks of flats – it was pretty cool!

The next morning, we headed off on foot to catch our ferry to Corfu, but sadly, this wasn’t the first port we’ve visited that was clearly not built with pedestrians in mind. Eventually, we found a sign that suggested we needed to check in at a building some 20 minutes’ walk away before returning to where we were, but there were no pavements to get there. We were busy Brysoning our way along in the heat when thankfully a passing chap all but ordered us onto a shuttle bus that was running in that direction. The existence of this bus had (literally) passed us by and we were very relieved to enjoy the air conditioning for a few minutes. While checking in, we got our first hint that our ferry might be a little late, but the casualness of the woman’s tone and her lack of apology suggested this wasn’t anything new!

Once we made our way back to the passenger terminal, we headed through security, where an atypically kindly border guard pulled me aside. “Madam,” he said, “There is no ship.” This really made us smile – no ship at all?! He went on to explain where we could wait inside, which wasn’t at all obvious so I’m glad he told us. And sure enough, the ship didn’t appear for quite some hours so we spent most of the day quoting his line. Madam, there is no ship…

Eventually, our ship, the Olympic Champion, docked and we watched the lorries unload painfully slowly, before it was our time to join the utter chaos and attempt to board under the very hot sun.

After a long discussion about which side of the ship we should aim to sit so that we would be in the shade as we sailed south (and some confusion about which end of the ship was the front), we were slightly puzzled to find the sun in our eyes most of the afternoon. So convinced were we about our calculations that we considered whether (a) the ship was sailing in the wrong direction or (b) the sun was setting in the wrong place, before eventually concluding that we are just absolute idiots and had sat on the wrong side.

These crossings are quite the experience, but thankfully we knew what to expect having taken a similar route last summer. Firstly, there are three main ticket types: deck space, airline-style seating and private cabins. Unlike some of the very civilised long-distance ferries we took in Japan and South Korea, getting a cabin this time was way out of our financial reach, costing at least twice the price of an already-expensive deck ticket. But deck tickets really are the wild west – you have to barge your way onto the ship and claim some sleeping space in a mad rush, and there were people laid out on yoga mats, air mattresses and even in tents everywhere (and I mean everywhere – on the open deck, in busy corridors, crammed into stairwells, at the entrance to the restaurant…). So, we went for the middle option, the airline-style seating. This got us a reserved seat in a large lounge full of rows of reclining chairs. The lights remained on and the television was blaring until a frustrated fellow passenger unplugged it around 2am, so it wasn’t exactly a restful night – particularly as we were sat close to a (very popular!) door that led directly out onto the windy deck. Thankfully, our eye masks and noise-cancelling headphones did their jobs and we got at least a bit of sleep.

The next morning, we stood out on deck in the sunshine as the Greek coastline drew closer, before stumbling off the ship in Corfu Town, finding our way through another un-pedestrianised port, and taking a bus across the island. It was time for our Corfu ‘holiday’ to begin! 🏖

Bologna: La grassa, la dotta e la rossa

Bologna is an interesting city: known for its food, for being home to the oldest university in the world, but also for being a big, noisy and gritty place. So, I was surprised to find just how beautiful it was, pairing endless porticoes that provide shelter from the fierce sun with gorgeous churches, edgy graffiti and a large, rowdy student population enjoying reasonably-priced food and drink in unpretentious bars and tabacchi. I shouldn’t have been surprised – Italy does this casual beauty SO well.

Bologna goes by many nicknames, so we tried to see a bit of each side of the city in our time there. The first one was easy…

🍝 La Grassa (the fat one)

Our much-anticipated pilgrimage to Bologna began with – what else? – a big plate of Tagliatelle al Ragù. We’d built up quite the appetite after spending the day at the Ferrari museums in Modena and Maranello, so we headed straight out to try Bologna’s most famous food export at Sfoglia Rina. Although the meaty sauce is known as bolognese elsewhere in the world, in its hometown it’s better known as ragù, and rather than the spaghetti to which we’re more accustomed in the UK, here it is customarily served with tagliatelle – the sauce clings to the wider, more textured pasta much better. It was rich, savoury and made for a super-satisfying meal, although if I’m honest I was a bit surprised that it didn’t taste more different to what I make at home – I’ll take that as a sign that I’m doing something right!

The next morning, we began our day with more food, visiting the Mercato delle Erbe. This was a great place to start – we needed to stock up on anti-scurvy measures (fruit) anyway, so browsing the other gorgeous produce and viewing an outstanding dog parade was just the cherry on top. It’s always nice to be shopping where the locals shop – and another thing I couldn’t get over was just how peaceful this area was, even though the central streets (mere steps away) were absolutely packed.

We headed back towards the centre for lunch, stopping to join the enormous queue outside Mò Mortadella Lab. The line moved incredibly fast – there were just three chaps making the sandwiches but they obviously had a good system and they were having a laugh while they were at it. Oli went for the mortadella, stracciatella, sundried tomato and basil version, while I went for mortadella, grilled aubergine, truffled stracciatella and rocket. We’d just passed the perfect spot to eat our spoils (a step under one of the porticoes), so we made a beeline for it and savoured our sandwiches while admiring the impeccable street scene and the lengthy photoshoot unfolding in the next arch along. Excellent free entertainment! I’d give the sandwiches a solid 8/10 – great flavour combos but they really hadn’t skimped on the stracciatella, which did make them a tad messy to eat.

The final item on our must-eat list was tortellini in brodo, which literally translates as tortellini in broth. I had no idea that this was a traditional way to serve tortellini – unlike with the ragù, I’ve clearly been doing many things wrong in my preparation of these little filled pasta parcels! I also had no idea that there was a difference between tortellini (which are more delicate and typically filled with a meat, egg, parmesan and nutmeg mixture) and tortelloni (larger and typically filled with vegetarian goodies like ricotta and spinach) – I genuinely thought it was two different ways of spelling the same thing. Anyway, I digress – the dish was super-simple but Oli gave it a good review because the broth meant that each mouthful had a salty, meaty preview even before he’d bitten into each tortellino.

🎓 La Dotta (the learned one)

To explore another side of the city, we headed to the Observatory Museum, which sat within Palazzo Poggi at the University of Bologna. This tower was built in 1726 specifically to suit the requirements of the astronomers who would use it, and as we made our way up to the top, we saw reconstructions of experiments that were conducted there as well as some beautiful astronomical and navigational instruments from the 13th to 18th century. Probably my favourite item was a delicate Chinese rice paper map of the constellations from 1634. I’d never really considered before that it’s possible to join up the stars anyway you please, so it’s unsurprising that these were totally different than the constellations we would recognise. It’s always nice to see a different perspective on something! And despite the tours that had departed earlier in the day being fully booked, we somehow ended up with an essentially private tour of the tower, which was rather nice.

At the top of the tower, we emerged onto a sun-baked terrace that gave us a gorgeous view over the red rooftops of the old city, which leads nicely onto Bologna’s third nickname…

🧱 La Rossa (The red one)

Actually, this nickname apparently refers not just to Bologna’s beautifully rosy appearance, but also to the staunchly left-leaning politics in the city. I’ll stay well out of Italian politics in this post, but we did enjoy the architecture!

We also loved the UNESCO World Heritage porticoes that stretched for over 60 km (!) around the city. They provided much-needed shade and every one was different. We even stayed in an apartment tucked up in the eaves of one of the porticoes, which gave us a hidden vantage point over the streets below. This was a great spot to eat breakfast while we people-watched, hoping that no one glanced up and saw us in our pyjamas.

Finally, Bologna’s symbols are the two neighbouring medieval towers, Torre degli Asinelli and Torre Garisenda. The former is the tallest leaning medieval tower in the world, but the latter is even more wonky, leaning 3.2m over its 47m height! Given my wobbly knees performance in Pisa, we decided to save our pennies and didn’t climb the Torre degli Asinelli, which is open to the public.

After a couple of days exploring the beautiful contradictions of Bologna, which far exceeded my already-high expectations, we hopped on another train towards the small town of Brisighella to explore another side of the Emilia-Romagna region.