.

I couldn’t believe it was already our final day in Greece. We enjoyed one final al fresco breakfast by the pool.

We had decided to rent a boat for our final day, since our boat day in Kefalonia had fallen through. I had contacted an online boat rental place located at the Aripa Port, simply because it was the only one that I could reserve online. We communicated weeks before through a series of texts and confirmed our boat rental for the day. I checked in to make sure we were still a go (lest we get halfway there and find out it was too windy or some other messiness). I was assured it was a go.

We made the hour drive to the Aripa Port. When we arrived, we parked in the only parking lot and looked around. We saw multiple rental boat stands but none that had the name of our rental company on it.

We wandered helplessly between the facilities and the docks looking for anything that might tell us where to go. Finally, we approached a gentleman at another stand and asked if he knew where we could find our rental.

He seemed to know something we didn't. He rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, and explained that they had no official stand and basically told us, “Good luck.”

Uh-oh. Had I booked with a hokey agency? Was a guy with a paddle boat going to show up? Had I rented a kayak instead of a power boat? Was anyone even going to show up at all?

I pulled up the photo of the boat the man had sent me and sure enough, we saw the boat tied to the dock, but there was no one nearby. I sent a text that said, “We are at the boat.”

Within minutes, a man came running down from one of the restaurants. In broken English he explained something that we interpreted to mean he didn’t have an official license to allow renters to access boats from the dock, so he had to take the boat out with us in it, we had to drop him off on some sketchy rock outcropping where the boat police couldn’t see us, and we’d do the same in reverse when we returned.

Matt and I looked at each other and shrugged. Okay.

We were game. We were happy to help him stick it to the man.

We felt like Columbian drug smugglers trying to dodge the Coast Guard as we pulled out from the marina, quickly ducked into a cove, and literally dumped the guy on some random rocks.

Only I would rent the only illegal boat on the island of Corfu.

It was a great boat and we spent an incredible morning touring the coastline, filled with endless little pocket beaches and insanely blue water. We pulled in to hidden coves and stopped to swim in the beautiful water.

We had only rented the boat for a ½ day, so we stopped at what we decided was our halfway point at a lovely beach and had a picnic lunch, cried over having to leave, swam a little more, cried a little more, rested on the beach, and cried one more time.

Then we took a leisurely cruise back.

We weren’t really sure what the “plan” was when we returned. We had a return time. Had he just gone down to the rocks and waited? We had no idea.

As we pulled closer to the marina, we saw him crouched, hidden in the rocks, waving his arms. We puttered over and he jumped in, wiping sweat from his brow and said, “The boat police are in the marina.”

We had to do a covert detour to an entirely different place, because he couldn’t be seen bringing us into the marina. We were unceremoniously dumped at a staircase carved into the mountainside that led at least 3,000 steps straight up to a restaurant that was about a half mile from our parked car.

“You walk up steps, my father pick you up at top in car. Drive you back. No boat police. Go RIGHT. Not go LEFT.”

Matt and I looked at each other and shrugged. Okay.

“GO RIGHT,” he emphasized again. “NOT LEFT.”

WTH was going to happen to us if we went left???

It was a long, hot trudge up all of those steps. I kept looking over my shoulder, not sure what would be behind me. Were we being pursued? Had our illegal boat run been spotted? Were they going to tackle us and throw us in the pokey? I kept expecting the Hellenic Coast Guard to be moving in below us, weapons drawn, shouting for us to freeze. When we made it to the top, a white van was waiting with a strange man driving and, like the trusting fools we are, we climbed inside.

This is how you become sex slaves or get sold for your kidneys, people.

I felt like a drug mule with a kilo of cocaine in my Debbie Katz tote instead of a tourist spending the day on a leisurely boat tour of the Corfu coast.

Within moments, however, he parked back in the marina parking lot, invited us into his restaurant and offered us a free drink. We had not been picked up by a serial killer. We had been picked up by the boat owner’s father. Apparently, they were in this whole boat running thing together. They rented you a boat, shook you up, dumped you on a pile of rocks, and then offered you a frappe as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

All’s well that ends well, right? Our boat had been cheap. It had been a beautiful morning. We’d had a great day. And we didn’t get raped or sold for our organs. I call that a success.

Moving on.

We took a different way back, enjoying the winding drive through old town Lakones where we stopped for a snack with a view .

I was curious what a jag of wine was. Especially when a "glass" is poured like this:

The rest of the day was spent sipping drinks in the pool, laughing about our ridiculous boat rental, and thinking back over the past 11 glorious days.

Because there were no great restaurants in the area, I had arranged to have the hotel prepare dinner and serve it poolside for our last night. The sky put on a spectacular display as we enjoyed a mixed appetizer platter (is it just me….or were those pigs in a blanket?), one final Greek salad, taztziki, pasta, stuffed peppers, and a Corfu beef dish that was the specialty of the house.

I won’t bore you with the details of getting home other than to say we left Corfu early Friday morning and were back in Knoxville late Saturday.

And it was worth it.

It was our final breakfast at the villa on Kefalonia. We gave our ferocious guard dog one final belly rub and loaded up the Fiat to head back to the airport.

It was a very short flight to Corfu, with glimpses of crazy beautiful beaches below.

From the airport, we were immediately thrust into Old Corfu Town, a maze of tiny streets, one ways, and way too many pedestrians. It was a good hour drive to our hotel, so we decided to have lunch in Corfu Town.

Corfu Town was gorgeous. We enjoyed walking the beautiful streets and doing a little bit of shopping en route to the restaurant.

I had chosen Rosmarino, a small Italian restaurant not too far from the airport. While I love Greek food, my mouth was longing for a change. We found Rosmarino tucked under a giant bougainvillea. We were seated outside and had a beautiful cut glass carafe of wine within moments.

PIZZA!

Food of the Gods.

We enjoyed two delicious salads, one with bresaola, parmesan, oranges and another with burrata and fresh tomatoes. We tried 2 pizzas: a spicy salami and a prosciutto and arugula.

We were fueled up and ready for the drive to Pictures Suites.

For our final stay, I had booked our only hotel. With only 2 nights, a villa wasn’t practical. I couldn’t have been happier with my choice. Pictures Suites was a very small boutique hotel located on the shores of Agios Stefanos beach, and the Presidential Suite was exceptional. With two bedrooms, an open den/kitchen, and a huge private terrace with a private infinity pool, we couldn’t ask for more.

We grabbed our complimentary bottle of wine and our fruit basket and chilled, Greek style, on the deck.

Pictures Suites was super close to Lofos Beach, also known as sunset beach, so of course we had to go see the epic sunset views.

The sunset was gorgeous, heart stopping even, but I was mostly mesmerized by the little flowers they put in the drinks.

Sunset that evening was like a big party with friends, everyone sipping cocktails in the golden glow, music playing in the background, laughter being carried on the breeze, all of us watching the horizon with bated breath.

We didn’t want to drive and there were no stellar restaurants within walking distance, so we walked to a non-stellar restaurant.

If Acropolis on Kefalonia had been the Denny’s of Greece, Brusko was the T.G.I Friday’s. Equally stereotypical and unimaginative, it was like the theme park version of a Greek Restaurant, but this time with loud waiters and really loud music. The restaurant next door was also playing really loud music, as though the two were competing for the honor of being the worst restaurant with the loudest horrible music. One was playing 80s dance tunes while the other churned out traditional Greek songs.

The food was decent, but after some of the outstanding meals we’d had, it was nothing special: spicy feta dip, mussels, prawns with ginger and garlic, and a sliced beef dish that reminded me of Shoney’s pot roast.

And they didn’t bring us any free liquor or watermelon or cake.

Just sayin’.

We were ready for a good night’s sleep, and in our luxury Corfu digs…we expected to sleep like babies.

I should note that we’d had some trouble with the lights. Now…sometimes in Europe, we have found ourselves faced with outlets, fixtures, toilet flushers, and the like that we weren’t 100% certain how to operate. Such was the case with the light switches at Presidents Suites.

I never could figure out how to turn them on or turn them off. I would simply keep hitting it until the thing I wanted to happen happened. Several times during the day, the bathroom light had gone off while I was in there, with no windows, in the pitch black darkness. I learned quickly to simply leave the door cracked.

Long after we had fallen asleep…the lights mysteriously came on. FULL ON. Matt can sleep through anything and managed to not even notice. I felt as though I had been launched onto the surface of the sun without a pair of sunglasses.

I jabbed. I poked. I held the switch down. I pushed it fast and released it. NOTHING.

It was maddening.

Finally…like magic….it went back off.

Whew.

I climbed back in bed and fell asleep.

About an hour later….I was dreaming that I was walking in the dark and suddenly, an alien ship was above me….the light was beaming me up…don’t look into the light! DON’T LOOK INTO THE L—

I woke up and stared at the blaring ceiling lights. Which were on. Again.

This happened repeatedly. At some point I shook Matt the Wonder Sleeper awake and he tried to shut the lights off and was unsuccessful. He climbed back in bed, covered his head with a pillow, and promptly went back to sleep.

Damn his ability to sleep through an earthquake.

Finally, I gave up and did the only thing I could do. I pulled my little mask that I had brought for the flight out, slipped it on, and slept with the lights on.

It was de-LIGHT-ful.

A giant bag of oranges had been provided in our welcome basket and we hadn’t managed to eat many of them, so I decided to try my hand at fresh OJ. We enjoyed fresh juice and a lovely breakfast at the villa.

I should note that Villa Quarda definitely exceeded our expectations. It was set on the end of a compound of 4 oceanfront villas, with a private pool, and a footpath to the beach below. When we arrived, we noticed the “Beware of Dog” sign, complete with an image of a ferocious looking German Shepherd.

Our guard dog came to visit us for cheese every morning. He made us feel very secure, indeed.

We started our day by taking a second stab at the beach we had attempted to find on our first day, Paliolinos. This time, we found it on actual paved roads with no problems.

It was a pretty little beach, but we were underwhelmed, so we chose to lay our towels elsewhere.

We found ourselves at Ai Helias. The only way to access the beach was a pretty long walk STRAIGHT DOWN. Because of that, we were surprised to find that it had a small bar, sunbeds, and umbrellas.

We enjoyed caipirinhas (yes, during frappe hour) and swimming in the cool, clear water. We did not enjoy the very LOUD Greek woman next to us, who had her private bits hanging outside of her swimsuit, talking and gesturing loudly on the phone nearly the whole time we were there. We also did not like the sand.

When lunchtime rolled around, we debated just trying to subsist on limes and mint from the bar in order to avoid trekking back up that hill in the midday heat, but we were used to our massive Greek lunches, so we pried ourselves off of our chairs to go in search of food.

We returned to Aviothos Beach and settled in at Enetiko Taverna for an oceanfront lunch: cucumber salad, olives, peppers, spicy pasta arrabiata, and beef stifado.

For our final night on Kefalonia, I had reserved the best table at Il Borgo, an upscale restaurant with a commanding view of the valley and the the Castle of Saint George.

The food at Il Borgo was a little different than the traditional Greek found everywhere else. It was a welcome change of pace. We started with sautéed mushrooms in white wine and grilled shrimp with garlic and cous cous. For dinner, we shared a massive rib steak and pesto pasta, followed by a darling little cheesecake. Even though we ordered dessert, the free sweet came out with the bill – an incredibly rich, moist spice cake.

The real show stopper, however, was the sky. Nature put on quite a show for our last night on the island. Kefalonia wanted to make sure we wouldn’t forget her easily.

Filakia, Kefalonia (little kisses). She had been a gracious hostess.

It was a slow-moving, post-wine kind of morning.

We started the day with breakfast at the villa, overlooking the sea.

Like Zakynthos, Kefalonia had been hit hard by the 1953 earthquake. You could see the remains of buildings deteriorating into rubble everywhere as you drove. However, two historic villages survived the earthquake, both located on the far northern tip of the island: Assos and Fiskardo. Both were rumored to be exquisitely lovely.

After breakfast, we set out for the north end of the island. I found in Greece that the drive was always as beautiful as the destination.

Our first stop was Myrtos Beach, one of the most famous beaches in the Ionian Islands and definitely the crown jewel of Kefalonia. It was a stunner.

Very similar in shape, appearance, and orientation to Petani, it appeared to be lit from within.

We enjoyed a little beach time. Myrtos was as beautiful from below as it was from above. The beach was more white pebble than sand, part of what gave it such a striking appearance from above. And that water....oh that water....

Then it was time to pile back into the car to continue our journey. The views along the coast were show stopping. We found ourselves continually stopping and just getting out of the car to stare.

The next stop was the scenic village of Assos. A tiny and secluded village, Assos sits on a horseshoe shaped azure harbor dotted with waterfront tavernas and shops. It is surrounded by rolling hills covered in cypress trees. The village is dominated by a 16th century fortress that sits atop one of these hills.

Crazy people, who like to hike for an hour in extreme heat, like to walk up the hill to the castle. I am not a crazy person and enjoyed it from afar.

There was a lot of traffic in Assos. We decided to park and walk around, as the village is so tiny, it can be walked in a very short bit of time. It was a fight to the death for parking, but we had the smallest car, so we squeezed into something I wasn’t even sure was a parking space.

Assos was beautiful and felt lost in time with pretty little colored houses lining the streets, small tavernas setting up tables for lunch at the water’s edge, and small boats bobbing gently in the harbor.

It was also CROWDED. SO CROWDED.

And HOT. SO HOT.

As we tried to make our way through throngs of people, sweat started running into my butt crack.

“I’m good to go,” I said to Matt, “You?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he panted, wiping sweat from his brow.

We climbed back into our little car, which required me to climb in through the passenger window, as we were wedged against a cement wall, and headed to Jerusalem Beach to find Oddysseas Tavern for lunch.

We wound our way down to Jerusalem Beach . The road seemed to snake up and down and around forever. With each turn, I grew more and more nervous that I was taking us down a long road to nothing, where would languish forever and die of starvation, all because I relied too heavily on Google maps in a foreign country.

Before long, we found ourselves rounding a curve with a gorgeous beach view below and one lone taverna near the sand.

Odysseas Tavern was quaint and rustic. Set among olive trees, it afforded an open air view of the beach.

All of the food sounded amazing, so we ordered a feast. We ordered so much that, as I was contemplating adding some fish, the waiter said, “You’ve probably ordered enough.” When the waiter at a Greek restaurant tells you that you have over ordered, you’ve seriously over ordered.

While we waited for our food, we sipped house wine and watched one little kitten with a bad eye beg at the next table for food.

“Awwww, Matt,” I said, “Look at him. He’s so little and he’s got that bad eye. See if he wants some bread,” bread being the only thing we had at that point.

Matt had no sooner tossed down a piece of bread when no fewer than 12 cats came running out of the bushes. Very smart. Send in the gimpy one and then bum rush the diners. They knew we were an easy mark.

We spent the rest of our lunch feeding cats. So many cats.

Our lunch arrived. We had gigantes (giant beans…I kept seeing them on the menu and I just had to know…), a stuffed baked artichoke, stuffed peppers, roast chicken with potatoes, and olive and cheese bread.

That artichoke changed my life.

After lunch, we drove to the historic village of Fiskardo. Fiskardo was supposed to be the most beautiful village on the entire island. I had seen photos of brightly colored buildings with wooden shutters draped in bougainvillea and cobblestone streets lined with eclectic shops and cafes. I had a vision of sipping an icy cocktail and watching the boats nod lazily in the harbor.

My vision was not my reality. When we arrived, Fiskardo had been invaded by a multitude of massive day tripper boats from mainland Greece.
Aiboi!

It wasn’t just the volume of people, it was the manner of the people. The delicate little town was overrun by people wearing nothing but swimsuits and flip flops, maybe a dreadful beach cover that would have been better suited for Myrtle Beach on bike week. They were sucking down frappes in gargantuan plastic cups and gobbling down ice cream cones as though ice cream was going to disappear from the earth forever in the next five minutes. They carried bags filled with cheap, ugly plastic souvenirs made in China and wore “I left my heart on Kefalonia” hoodies. My favorite were the women in overly billowy gowns with giant hats and oversized sunglasses and huge wedge heels trying to walk on the uneven stone streets and taking their own photo every 30 seconds as though they were the star of their own reality show, while a husband/child/boyfriend followed dutifully behind taking a video with his phone.

We couldn’t even shop for the multitude of bodies.

We popped into a what appeared to be a fairly empty café, Le Passage. It was smack in the middle of the harbor and provided a front row seat to the freak show. It was a lovely oasis in the midst of hell.

We ordered up some cocktails and settled in to watch.

This is Matt's "Please Stop Taking My Picture" face. It's almost as good as his "Why The Hell Am I On This Ledge" face.

Before we finished the first drink, we heard a long, low horn.

Cattle Call!!!

We watched the people scramble to get back to their boats before they got left behind, with nothing to sleep in but a “I heart Fiskardo” t-shirt. They were grabbing their frappes and ice-creams and literally running for the boat.

I sipped my bellini.

Within 30 minutes, Fiskardo was blessedly empty. We didn’t know it, but we had timed it just right. It was so incredibly peaceful after the boats left.

We enjoyed another cocktail, just to be on the safe side, I mean, some of them could have still been lingering around.

Then we enjoyed a tranquil, uncrowded stroll around the village.

We drove back to the villa and spent the afternoon in the pool and enjoying our sunset wine ritual.

And then it was time for our sunset hour on the deck, something we looked forward to every day.

I had remembered to make an actual reservation for Espirides, so we headed to dinner at the sweet little restaurant in the orange grove.

It was sublime.

The front restaurant gave way to a small, intimate courtyard in the back, tucked into the orange grove with one huge orange tree in the center. We had reserved a table in the courtyard and it didn’t disappoint.

Course after course welcomed us: mushrooms, baked sausages in a savory sauce, a lovely salad, sole wrapped in bacon with a blue cheese cream sauce, pork medallions, and their signature orange cake for dessert.

We lingered so long, we were the only patrons left. At that point, the waiter brought out a complimentary shot of Bacardi Vintage Black. We told him we’d only drink it if he had one with us.

Opa!

We wanted to visit the peninsula on the western portion of Kefalonia and knew that would make a long day, so we agreed to get up early-ish and have a quick breakfast and hit the road.

I made pressed cheese sandwiches that we wolfed down so that we could be on the road by 8:30 a.m.

Our original plan was to rent a boat and visit the hard to reach beaches, but halfway there, the boat guy called. He spoke almost no English. We spoke no Greek. We couldn’t understand one another AT ALL. After a very frustrating and awkward conversation he finally said, “No boat. Sea no good. No calm.”

Ah….we were not renting a boat.

On to Plan B: we decided to pick one beach we could reach by car and head there instead.

It took an hour to reach Petani Beach, and we savored every beautiful moment of it. Sweeping vistas, goat filled hillsides, and amazing sea views met us at every turn.

When Petani Beach came into view, we were mesmerized.

Petani Beach was an expansive horseshoe shaped cove with limestone cliffs surrounding it. There were a few small beach bars and some loungers set up on one end. A steep road led down to the magnificent beach.

After we walked around for a bit, admiring the beauty of the beach and had ourselves settled on a couple of sunbeds, it was about 10:30 a.m. Matt went in search of liquid sustenance.

In the Bahamas or the Caribbean, this is a perfectly acceptable time to start day drinking. One starts early with a little mimosa, champagne, maybe a bloody Mary…transitioning as appropriate as the day progresses.

Apparently, ordering an alcoholic beverage at this early hour is as uncouth in Greece as throwing toilet paper in the actual toilet or refusing the obligatory plate of watermelon at the end of a meal.

Matt returned with two cocktails, but a sheepish and puzzled expression on his face.

“When I went up to the bar and ordered two drinks, the bartender looked at me funny, shrugged, and said, ‘Whatever you want.’ I thought that was weird until I looked around and EVERYONE else was sipping a coffee. We are now the boorish drunkard Americans.”

Winning!

We enjoyed being the tacky Americans on the beach for a couple of hours before we finally became hungry enough to pry ourselves off our loungers and go in search of food.

We had to stop at look at the view from above one more time. It was stupid beautiful. Ridiculous.

In anticipation of a boat day, I had packed a picnic. We decided we’d drive and see if we could find a quiet, shady spot to eat. We saw some beautiful vistas on that drive.

But we never saw a quiet shady place to eat. Every beautiful spot we found was in the blaring sun and it was HOT.

We decided to save the picnic and stop at the famed “fisherman’s hut” on Agia Kyriaki. I remembered reading about a simple shack where there was no menu, homemade wine, and you simply got what they had: fried fish, bread, salad, and potatoes.

You didn't even order. You simply sat down and, eventually, someone brought you food.

I was certain the wine was not FDA approved.

Frankly, I’m still not sure what it was.

The food was simple, fresh, and delicious.

That evening, I had booked something that had the potential to be cheesy and horrific or one of the most amazing experiences of our life. I was giddy with anticipation.

I had booked “The Greek Wine Experience,” a private wine tour. All I knew was that it would last several hours and would include several locations and tastings. The rest was a mystery.

It would turn out to be the single most amazing and memorable experience of our entire Greek vacation.

Dimitris Lolos picked us in in a shining black SUV promptly at 6:00 p.m. He drove us to the Robolo wine making region of the island. Kefalonia is the only place in the world where the Robolo grape variety is produced. On the way there, the conversation was easy and comfortable, as he educated us on Kefalonian wine making. His passion for it shone through.

After a drive that was a feast for the eyes, we found ourselves nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains where the Robola Wine Cooperative has a beautiful wine making facility. It sits at 1345 feet above sea level, below the verdant slopes of Mount Ainos and beside the beautiful monastery of St. Gerassimo, patron saint of Kefalonia.

He toured us through the facility, explaining each part of the process. It wasn’t stiff or uncomfortable, the way I had imagined. It was like being with an old friend.

After the tour, we entered the tasting room and sampled 4 wines – each one a heavier pour than the last.

At this point, Dimitri told us he was taking us to his private vineyard for a sunset wine tasting.

When we stepped out of the SUV, we found ourselves in the middle of a large vineyard high atop a mountain, looking down at the sea. The entire world was bathed in golden light from the setting sun. A small stone farmhouse with a large veranda was nestled intimately in the vines, and the only sound other than our feet in the rich soil was the tinkling of the bells on the goats’ collars far off in the neighboring fields.

It was so beautiful I wanted to weep.

Dimitri seated us on the patio, with an old wine barrel for a table. We faced the sunset as he brought out 4 different food/wine pairings over the next couple of hours. Each wine was thoughtfully selected to accompany a platter of fruits, meats, cheeses, nuts, breads, fresh tomatoes, and olive oil. He would set the food and the bottle of wine before us and retreat to the interior, leaving us in privacy.

He didn’t pour a tasting. Each time, he poured a glass. And then refilled the glass. Again and again. We went through bottles. Many, many bottles.

As the sun died in the horizon, leaving nothing but a thin line of orange stretched across the mountains and the sea, he brought out a 5th bottle, a bonus wine, which the 3 of us proceeded to drink together in the beautiful darkness.

At the risk of sounding cliché, it was magical. Truly magical. Every note was simply perfection.

Matt and I agreed later that it was one of our favorite travel experiences of all time.

Dimitri has created something unique and special on his little mountain and we felt blessed to have been lucky enough to experience it.

Greek Wine Experience, indeed.

We had so much wine, I don’t even remember the drive back. The only thing I remember is that I nearly peed my pants. I had consumed an inordinate amount of wine over a 4 hour period without a single bathroom break.

Old ladies drinking wine need bathroom breaks.

Other than that, the night was perfection.

Telia, Dimitri!