I apologize for making Part One so long, but gird your loins, cause Part Two is coming in hot. I think I murdered some metaphors there, but it’s just us, so here goes.

THURSDAY, DAY FIVE:

After a morning of writing and sharing the stories of our lives, led by Tammy Houts of TLC Memoir Writing Retreats, we enjoyed another wonderful lunch, catered by Andreas of Barden Restaurant, which we had frequented earlier in the week. As a treat, he gifted each of us with a bottle of olive oil.

Olive Oil is a staple in Corfu, as in the rest of Greece, but I capitalize it here to give it the status it deserves. There is no meal you will eat in Greece that is not slathered in Olive Oil. And it is the best, freshest, most virgin oil possible. (I’m not sure if there are degrees of virginity any more than there are degrees of pregnancy, but you get my drift.)

As always, our meal was provided by our ever-effervescent Concierge, Elena Karoumpi, who, in concert with Tammy, had arranged another treat for us that evening. We would be driven to the sea-side village of Kassiopi for shopping and dinner.

SHOPPING!!!

We drove in our tandem cabs along the mountainous coastline to the east and into the charming fishing village. It was lovely to wander from shop to shop, many with the touristy knickknacks you’d expect, most of which I had seen in Corfu Town that first afternoon. But many also with beautiful assortments of leather goods, textiles and art.

For years Scott and I collected a fridge magnet, postcards and a Christmas ornament from all our travels. Every year our Christmas tree groans under the weight of the trinkets that represent the amazing places we discovered in our nearly 30 years of marriage. Even our kids bring them back to us from their travels. I had a good cry last year hanging the beautiful remembrances on the tree, each one heavy with memories.

I continued that tradition in Kassiopi, selecting a beautiful blue and white “evil eye” ornament for my tree. The evil eye is merely the symbol of Greece and holds no real mythical or religious significance any more.

On this trip, as I did in Ireland, England and Santa Fe, I also wanted something more substantial to commemorate my journey. I found a hand-embroidered linen table runner and a lovely fringed scarf, both of which will be used and enjoyed and remind me of my trip.

With my shopping done, I joined the others at our restaurant on the water’s edge. The view of the tiny bay was beautiful and we could have reached out and touched the blue-gray mountains of Albania from there. Again Elena ordered for us, one of nearly everything to share and taste until we could barely move. And then came dessert: ice cream all around, but I got mine plunked into a mug of coffee and it was delicious.

FRIDAY, DAY SIX:

No writing this morning as we boarded a luxurious van for a day-long excursion that would take us nearly to the end of the island and back.

First stop was Korission Lagoon on the western coast, with its deep sand and undulating dunes. Many pictures later, I shook the sand off my Toms and climbed back in the van.

Next stop: The Governor’s Olive Mill, where we were treated to a fascinating lesson in historic olive oil pressing in wooden instruments of torture juxtaposed to the gleaming metal equipment used now. Then we learned by tasting the difference between virgin and extra virgin (HINT: it’s the ripeness of the olives.) And more shopping ensued!

Then another “light” lunch in a verdant garden overlooking the azure water (hush, this is my one opportunity to use all the adjectives.) Then another stop at a different beach. This one boasting flat sand where we could actually let the water lap our feet. Not me, of course, no, thank you. But I enjoyed the walk on the beach nonetheless. Followed by a ride up the coast to another ancient monastery, then up the hill for coffee, where we watched the planes take off from the Corfu airport, then a scenic drive along the mountainous coast to visit the house where the Durells of Corfu lived.

Don’t get so excited. Sadly, that house really doesn’t exist anywhere. BUT, we did see the home of Lawrence Durrell, which can be rented as an Air B&B and is connected to a delightful open-air restaurant, where we stopped for a boozy drink. Upon our return to the van, our driver greeted us with cold champagne! It was a fitting end to our luxurious day on the isle of Corfu.

SATURDAY, DAY SEVEN:

Our writing journey was coming to an end and we savored our last few times with Tammy. I don’t want to give away too many details of our writing hours for two reasons. They were quite personal and part of the beauty of the week was sharing such intimate details of our lives in a safe space, knowing our stories would be our own. Also, I want all of you to experience one of Tammy’s workshops as she is a gifted and generous teacher. So I will tell you that these are women I admire and love if I was only with them briefly. And I hope to be with them again.

Lunch was leftovers. Our light meals had left us with a full fridge, so we warmed up and spread out an array of Greek delicacies, including the ubiquitous Greek Salad.

The plan was to gather at Diane’s and my villa for an afternoon session with Tammy while Elena and her elves set up for a gala party that evening. Even Jeff was going to join us later that day.

So Diane and I set to work getting our villa ready for company and decided to host a Happy Hour with cheese, crackers and wine. It was fun to “entertain” the group and we had a great session.

Then we went next door to the bigger villa to find Elena’s friends cooking in the kitchen and at the grill, with two of them in traditional Greek dress. The buffet was amazing, with all the foods we had come to love and more. Greek music wafted across the patio, with the shimmering pool and ocean beyond as our backdrop. After dinner, the dancing began with an impressive array of costume changes. Finally we all got up to learn a few steps. That was a mistake on my part as I dance arms up like an old American woman.

Most of us left shortly thereafter, but the Greek contingent partied on.

SUNDAY, DAY EIGHT:

We enjoyed our last writing session that morning, wrapping up with even more insights from Tammy. Then we changed into our matching TLC logo shirts and donned Olive Retreat aprons for a cooking lesson from Elena. She taught us to make Tzatziki, Greek Salad and dressing, and souvlaki (meat skewers, these were chicken.) We were excellent students and the food was delicious.

That night Diane and I agonized over how to pack all the olive oil into our bags, what to carry-on, how to schlep everything to the cab, etc. It was a late night.

MONDAY, DAY NINE:

5:30 a.m. We locked the villa and begin belaying our bags down the flight of steps to the gravel below. My bag was new, pink, huge, weighed 50 lbs. and never learned to roll on gravel. In addition, I had a lovely, pearlescent tote, also new, and my TLC backpack, pressed into service now as my carry-on. I tell you these details because they will matter later. Oh, yes, they will matter.

It’s hard to describe in words the noise luggage makes being dragged across gravel at 5:30 in the morning when you’re trying really hard not to wake anyone else.

Tammy met us to say goodbye along with our new friend Pat who was flying out that morning on the 9 a.m. flight we would be on tomorrow. We arrived in Corfu an hour later and Pat was dropped at the airport. The cab dropped us a few minutes later at the point closest to our hotel as it was in the middle of the old town and inaccessible by car. Jeff met us there, at the base of an enormous staircase.

He assessed the situation and began galumphing the suitcases up the stairs while Diane and I carried the other bags. Fortunately the boutique hotel was only a short walk down the cobblestones, past a café and a few shops, down a narrow passageway. Unfortunately they didn’t have an elevator and my room was at the top of a narrow circular staircase. Jeff once again muscled my bag up the steps.

That evening we walked to the edge of town and had a lovely dinner at Antranik looking out over the harbor, watching the ferries cross over to the mainland. I repacked yet again to be ready for the plane ride home. It would be a long day.

TUESDAY, DAY TEN:

4:00 a.m. No water. Luckily I had showered the night before and had bottled water for teeth brushing, but really?!?!?

5:15: The knock at the door was Jeff to carry my bag down the spiral staircase. Quietly, oh so quietly, as the tiny hotel was full of people who didn’t know they had no water. Then out onto the cobblestone street. Words cannot describe the incredible noise luggage makes when rolling across cobblestones at 5:30 in the morning. I was relieved to make it to the staircase of doom without being followed by a mob with pitchforks. Pitchforks?

Anyway, long-suffering Jeff carried my suitcase, his and Diane’s down one after another and we made it to the cab waiting at the bottom. When he dropped us off at the airport, we were surprised to find it nearly deserted. No one at the check-in counter, but we lined up dutifully anyway to check our bags.

7:00: The desk clerks arrived and checked us in. Apparently the three-hour-before-an-international-flight rule doesn’t apply to Corfu. But, no matter, we settled in for the long trifecta of flights that would get us home by midnight Dallas time.

And our Corfu Idyll would be over, another memory for my fridge, my Christmas tree and my heart of hearts which is where my journeys and the friends I’ve made along the way will live forever.

Safe travels to all of you this summer.