Corfu Old Town is ancient — its roots go back to the 8th century BC — so the rule of thumb is: expect to walk, a lot. And if you’re booked into one of those historic tenements that overlook its harbour — Corfu’s entrance to the serenely beautiful Adriatic Sea — check your knees, because you’re about to become intimately familiar with the spiral staircase.

I became so intimate with ours, in an old Venetian manor now named Anesis Apartment, that I remember exactly how many wooden stairs it took to deliver us to our suite — 72, snaking creakily around what our host Stavros informed us is the “oldest elevator in Corfu” (although he couldn’t tell me when it was built). The lift must have been quite the novelty back then, a rather scary adventure at that, and not for the claustrophobic. So even if Stavros swept away its cobwebs, removed his work tools from its pit, and miraculously got it working again, we agreed we’d still take the stairs, which are the only way to success anyway, if you believe the proverb.

Corfu’s entrance to the serenely beautiful Adriatic Sea. (Photo: Duncan Wilson for Flickr)

A fisherman steers his boat along the shoreline on February 5, 2010 in Corfu, Greece. Snow covered mountains in Albania can be seen in the distance. (Photo by Dan Kitwood/Getty Images)

Corfu at sunset. (Photo: Brian Miller for Flickr)

Corfu immerses you in different centuries as you journey along. (Photo: Juan Bernardo for Flickr)

The pleasing paradox of Greece and its scattering of islands is the seamless fusion of antiquity and modernity, immersing you in different centuries as you journey along, ideally by foot and muscled thighs. 

A wander through the marble-slabbed streets of Corfu Old Town takes you past al fresco eateries and shops selling tat. Another curiosity I found in Corfu — and Athens — was fish spas, for tourists willing to pay €20 to have their feet nibbled and tickled by Garra rufa fish. A heads-up here: It’s not ethical, according to animal rights activists, so think before you dunk your toes in the tank. We discovered the cheeky bottle-opener market in Kavos, the southernmost seaside village of Corfu, a hub of soccer-loving, beer-swigging holidaymakers from Britain, Germany, Serbia and northern Europe. 

A band plays traditional music ahead of Carnival day in Corfu Town on February 4, 2010 in Corfu, Greece. (Photo by Dan Kitwood/Getty Images)

A general view of Corfu’s Old Fortress on February 5, 2010 in Corfu, Greece. The Fortress which sits on a rocky outcrop was mostly built by the Vanetians in the 14th century. (Photo by Dan Kitwood/Getty Images)

Serious legwork ahead

Swiping left on that, we drove a short distance from there and boarded a ferry for the hour-long journey to the small island of Paxos, for €30 each, leaving from Leftkimmi port. Paxos is yet another exquisite Greek island gem, a montage of historic buildings painted in a spectrum from burnt orange to pink to apricot to buttercup yellow, and fringed by the gently lapping Ionian Sea. 

Paxos is where you do the serious legwork you’ve been gearing up for in Corfu Old Town. From the small harbour where the ferry dropped us off, I began huffily complaining to my much fitter Irish bestie about the lack of Ubers or hired bikes, which struck me as a good business opportunity in a country where half-constructed or derelict houses dot the landscape and betray its relative poverty. 

About business opportunities in Corfu, I got a little rush to the head in a dilapidated-looking resort called Benitses, about 14km south of Corfu Old Town, reimagining it as an affordable European hideaway for like-minded friends, who could buy and renovate a few of the tumbledown piles and turn it into a place as idyllic as Gerald Durrell’s 1930’s Corfu. 

When I looked at the property prices, though, I figured my friends and I would need to have squirrelled away a lot more than we have. For a neglected two-storey that needs a radical makeover, set against a weedy hill with a far-off, barely-there ocean view, you’re looking at around €55,000 (about R1.14-million).

A car drives along a winding road on the slopes of Mount Pantokrator on February 5, 2010 in Corfu, Greece. Mount Pantokrator is the highest point on the island at 906 meters. (Photo by Dan Kitwood/Getty Images)

Corfu’s gentle ocean and its beaches are, of course, the pièce de résistance, so as we rounded the top of this horse-leg-shaped island (with the thigh), we were focused on finding the next serendipitous enclave to have a light lunch, a dip in the ocean, and an Instagram sundowner. 

Serenely beautiful Corfu. (Photo: Sergio Feo for Flickr)

One of these is Loggas Beach, where you will find Seventh Heaven Café with its glass-floored viewing post jutting from a chalky precipice. As marvellous as the panorama is from this vantage point, if you’re the anxious type, half of your mind is occupied by the horror of falling 15m onto the rocks below should the glass break. So you can be forgiven for ordering a stiff one at the bar afterwards, happy to swipe your card for a chunk of change worthy of the tourist trap that it is.

I prefer a more organic experience, one that entails lounging around, savouring tapas and sipping ouzo. Thanks to an old colleague, Sam Roger’s recommendation (and she should know, as she owns the fabulous Red Tin Roof in Riebeek-Kasteel, Western Cape), we found just that, at Agni Beach, a languid little seaside cove studded with a couple of waterfront tavernas. 

“The restaurant on the right is the real deal … had the most amazing long lunches there,” Sam enthused. There, we were served by a waiter with a gruffness that gave away his indifference toward women past their prime. Being a woman empowered enough to pay for your own delectable prawns and olives, though, you can fob off vintage attitudes as part of the quaintness of the place. 

So, our shortlist of pretty coastal villages and beaches, driving anti-clockwise along the seaboard from Corfu Old Town: Agni, Acharavi, Loggas, Palaiokastritsa and Agios Gordios, home of the popular party hostel The Pink Palace, which was visited many times by Queen frontman Freddie Mercury before his death in 1991.

Talking of Corfu beaches, here’s where your legwork becomes footwork that’s quite tricky, as these are not sandy beaches. They are gravelly or cobbled, so if you don’t want to look like a drunk worthy of an extended stay in Kavos, it’s best to buy a pair of those rubber-soled slippers, which render you a much less alarming figure emerging from the deep blue. 

I kept mine as a memento of Corfu, ready in my togs drawer to use as socks with my Crocs. The only other thing I brought home was a vacuum-packed bag of olives, because when in the world, eat as the Greeks do. You don’t even have to walk it off. DM