Corfu by Rail and Ferry

I’m a big fan of Interrailing around Europe, in fact me and Livvy are planning a trip later this year (2026), details to be announced soon, so when some of my mates suggested they’d like to repeat a fondly remembered trip to Corfu, taken in 1978, I jumped at the chance. So, with help from the folks on the fantastic Facebook group ‘Interrailing for the older crowd’ and the excellent website ‘Man in Seat Sixty-One’ (https://www.seat61.com/), I bought four-day senior passes on the Interrail site, during one of their sales, (usually around Black Friday in November), and started planning. Back in 1978, the trip involved hitching lifts, sleeping rough in stations and staying in a youth hostel. This time I thought we’d go in style, so I thought we will travel  first class. The difference in price was around £50 and given that also gives you ‘plus’ class on the Eurostar, it was a no-brainer. So, with Rail app downloaded and ferries and hotels booked, me, Jonny, Stu, Harry and Mark were ready for the off on a cold, wet Saturday in Manchester!

Day 1 – Stockport to Paris

Not the best of starts, got up early and the first thing I did was check the status of our 7:24am train, which showed cancelled due to overhead wire issue at Manchester Piccadilly. Alerted the others and then desperately tried to find an alternative way to get to London in time for our 11:30 Eurostar train. I worked out that it was possible via a convoluted route involving Crewe, (that could apply to almost all rail journeys). I needn’t have bothered though, because when we arrived at Stockport, the previous London train, which was not cancelled, was running very late, and laboured into Stockport just as we laboured up the platform stairs!

The old days of crummy British Rail food are long gone I’m glad to say, the food in the Avanti first class coach was excellent with breakfast choices of bacon butties, smoked salmon, scrambled eggs and coffee – the latter was actually pretty good. The train made good time and we actually arrived at Euston ten minutes earlier than planned. This gave us plenty of time to stroll across to St Pancras and take advantage of the excellent Betjeman Arms pub.

I’d been a bit worried that we might get delayed at St Pancras, due to the introduction of the new EU’s Entry/Exit System. I’d read horror stories of people missing flights at foreign airports because of four-hour queues. Well, despite the introduction date of the EES being the week before we travelled, there was no sign of anyone doing it at Eurostar check-in, and for once, I was pleased to get my passport back after a five second surly glance by the French border official. (I’ve often wondered if they go home to France every night, or if they have to suffer English food like the rest of us?)

By golly, the E* (as seasoned train travellers coolly refer to Eurostar), is very fast. At one point it was doing over 300kmph (190 mph old school), and the two-hour-16-minute journey went by in a blur of London suburbs, French fields, a second breakfast and two very nice mini bottles of red.

Our hotel was the Ibis in Porte de Bercy, near Gare de Lyon. Hotels in Paris and Milan were generally pretty expensive, so I’d adhered to my usual modus operandum of staying at a cheap place outside the tourist areas with the option of taking an Uber. Given that an Ibis near Chatelet was over £200 per night, and ours at Porte de Bercy was £50, even the expensive Uber XL, to and from Les Halles, at £30 each way, still represented a massive saving for five of us. From the Gare du Nord we also took a £30 cab. I didn’t fancy the RER between Gare du Nord and Gare de Lyon, whilst lugging cases around, especially as I had memories of sleeping on the French Metro circle line one night in 1976, to try and keep warm after roughing it at Victoria station the night before. The follies of youth…

The Ibis hotels throughout Europe are pretty good in general and I always use them if on a budget. The Porte de Bercy hotel was no exception. Quick check-in, basic room, very clean and cheap breakfast.

After check-in we got our Uber XL to an old favourite bar in Les Halles, Au Chien qui Fume. Back in 1976, when Les Halles was a giant building site, and the Pompidou Centre was just a figment of Richard Rogers’ imagination (and to my mind, that’s as far as it should have got), the Smoking Dog bar was a regular hangout – small, cheap with a very laid back and laconic owner, we spent many happy hours making “un demi” last as long as possible and sharing a ‘Jambon de Paris’. Nowadays, it’s a big, thriving restaurant with loads of tourist tables outside, perfect for watching the French parading their latest fashions on the catwalk otherwise known as the Rue Saint-Honoré. Another old hangout was ‘Le Pied de Cochon’, and for old times’ sake we decided to eat there. I’d vaguely remembered that, true to their name, they used to serve pigs trotters in sauce. I was pleased to have my memory confirmed but decided to go with the salmon instead.

After Le Repas, we strolled down to the Louvre, mainly to see the Pyramide by night. Paris is a wonderful place for strolling, either early mornings, grabbing a coffee and watching the street sweepers, or in the evening. It really is a city of lights, very beautiful, with the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower. A quick nightcap was taken at the Cafe de Charenton, near the hotel, where there was a very lively Karaoke night happening. Having been booed off the stage in Scotland once for ruining ‘Mull of Kintyre’, I decided not to partake and went back to the hotel. It had been a long day, but a very good one.

Day 2 – Paris to Milan via Zurich

We took yet another Uber XL to Gare de Lyon around 8am. The TGV to Zurich was due to depart at 10:22, so that gave us plenty of time to explore the station. We quite fancied a coffee at the famed ‘Train Bleu’ restaurant, but then I spotted a sign for the SNCF first class lounge, which we were entitled to enter with our passes. When we got to the lounge, it was temporarily closed for renovations, but the notice on the door said we could get free drinks at Starbucks with our passes. Not one to turn down a free coffee, we headed there. Gare de Lyon is a very nice station, and also pretty big. You need to know which ‘Hall’ your train is leaving from or you can find yourself dashing at the last minute. Fortunately, the Starbucks was practically next to our platform.

The TGV was a double decker, but I’d not been smart enough to reserve seats on the upper deck, something I’ll remember in future. Still, the lower deck was comfy enough, but without the nicer views. No free food or drink was served on our first-class TGV train, but order by app – deliver to seat was available. This didn’t work as the train Wi-Fi was rubbish, and when it did connect, it worryingly claimed that we were on the way to Spain. So, we got lunch the old-fashioned way by visiting the buffet car on the upper deck.

Like the E*, the TGV really zooms along and it was only four hours to Zurich. We had an hour at Zurich station before our next train to Milan, and at Zurich prices, an hour is plenty. Burger and chips was £30 and my favourite ice cream, Movenpick, was an eye-watering £15 for my usual ‘trois boules’. Prices didn’t stop us getting a beer though.

We had reasonable notice of the platform for our Zurich to Milan train, but when we got there, the sign on our coach was saying it terminates at Chiasso. I double checked the coach number etc… all correct, then spoke to someone on the platform who seemed to know what she was talking about. She said not to worry, it was definitely going to Milan. Just as we were about to get on, Jonny noticed another train pulling in front of ours and starting to hook up. We ran along the platform, and found yet another coach with the exact same letter, but this one indicated it terminated at Milan. We asked the ticket inspector and we got a garbled story about the back bit of the train not being allowed to be occupied after Chiasso, something to do with customs or immigration. All very confusing, especially as coaches had identical letters and seating.

The Euro City train pulled into Milano Centrale station exactly on time, and we headed off to our hotel 5km north of the city. Normally this would call for yet another Uber, but the prices of an XL were outrageous, almost double those of Paris. So, we opted for the bus which, with a quick change, dropped us right outside our hotel for a mere 1.5 euro each.

Our hotel was the B&B Hotel Milano Ornato, which came highly recommended on Booking.com, and at under £50 per night, fitted the bill admirably.  Ensconced there, we got a recommend from the guy on the front desk for a bar and restaurant 200 metres up the road.

I imagine there are plenty of Dr Who fans in the UK, but I never thought I’d meet an Italian fan. The Tardis Bar served a fantastic array of craft beers as well as displaying lots of Whovian paraphernalia. I particularly liked the wi-fi password ‘IlDottore’!

Next door was our recommended restaurant, Cascina California, and it was wonderful. Full of lively, friendly Italians, enjoying excellent well-priced food and wine at only 14 Euro a bottle. We had pizza, seafood risotto and the most fantastic bread. If you are ever in Milan, do not miss this place. We would have gone a second night, except that almost every bar and restaurant around the area of the hotel closes on Mondays.

Day 3 – Milan

After a hearty, and cheap, breakfast at the hotel it was time to explore Milan for the day. Our plan was to pay homage to the three main religions in Italy, the three f’s, faith, fashion and football, (Italians will also say there’s a fourth f, but let’s not go there). First was the Duomo cathedral, secondly the Vittorio Emanuele II fashion arcade across the square from the Duomo, and finally, via the number 16 tram, the San Siro football stadium shared by AC and Inter Milan.

There was a huge queue for the ticket office for the Duomo, so we booked online (26 Euro each) and joined the queue for the lift to the roof. You can save a couple of Euro by climbing the stairs, but none of us fancied that, or the possible resultant bill for knee replacements.

If ever I am lucky enough to go to Heaven, then I’ll know exactly what it looks like, the roof of the Duomo. All in white, large statues of saints rise into the sky, with smaller statues below, and right at the top, 108m above the city, the magnificent Giuseppe Perego gilded copper statue of the Virgin Mary, the Madonnina, protector of the city. What isn’t so heavenly though is the journey down from the roof. It’s not a trip for the faint-hearted, and despite the lift, there are still quite a few stairs to climb, and if you stop for a breather, someone will blare out at you through a megaphone, like a demented sergeant-major. Also, the 250 steps down are a bit knee-jarring. Despite all that, it is definitely worth the money and the effort. Once you are down, you enter the cathedral itself, and you realise just how big it is. Taking 600 years to finish, it has a capacity of 40,000 people, yes you read that right, 40k. After a look round and lighting some candles, it was time to move on.

Just across from the Duomo is the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. This shopping gallery is reputedly the oldest in Italy and is the place to go and be seen when shopping. We didn’t bother with the Prado and Gucci shops, but had a coffee and people-watched for a while. The four-story arcade features a stunning glass and iron dome and is probably the most beautiful shopping gallery in the world, but what would I know with only the Arndale Manchester to compare it with. I’m not a big shopper, but I do like wandering around the Rinascente department store, opposite the Duomo, and I always end up at the rooftop. It has a fabulous cafe and food hall, and if you are not up to the Duomo rooftop tour, you can get a pretty good view of it whilst sipping a cappuccino.

We caught the 16 tram on the other side of the square. This terminates at the San Siro Stadium, which is shared between AC Milan and Inter Milan. I’m trying to imagine Man Utd and Man City sharing a stadium; it just wouldn’t happen. Despite the leaky roof, Old Trafford is part of the souls of lots of Mancs, even more so than Maine Road used to be, which I guess is why City’s move to the Etihad didn’t bother a lot of ‘Blues’. I’m biased though, being a ‘Red’. Around the stadium was pretty quiet, with just a few diehard fans in the twin stores admiring the overpriced kits and memorabilia. After a quick tour, we gravitated to the bar at the stadium and watched some match highlights whilst sampling a Moretti or two. I’ve read that the stadium is going to be demolished in 2030, and a new, smaller capacity stadium built, go figure…

As our favourite restaurant was closed, (it was a Monday), we decided to head over to the Isola district, which has lots of bars and restaurants, and rely on serendipity to find a good spot for dinner. So, we hopped on the metro, and this is where events took a decidedly weird turn.

Me and Stu were sat on one side of the metro carriage, and I noticed a guy on the other side really staring at us. As I’m used to travelling on the London underground, and the generally well-mannered respect of other people, I found this a bit unsettling, but other than that, didn’t give it much thought. We got off at the Zara station and strolled 1km to a road well stocked with bars and outdoor seats, ordered a round and settled in to a bit of banter. At this point, I noticed the guy from the metro about 30m down the road, just hanging around on a corner. He caught my eye and pulled out his phone and proceeded to jabber into it. Coincidence? surely… Anyway, we moved on to another bar around 800m down the road. Again, we sat outside, and again, my new friend was lurking aimlessly on a nearby corner. Hmmm…. that was taking coincidence a bit far, so utilising various skills gleaned from Le Carré novels, we doubled back and found a restaurant down a passageway and ducked inside. After 5 minutes, one of the lads went outside for a cig break. Our friend was lurking again at the top of the passageway. There’s a line in Goldfinger by Fleming, “Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, the third time is enemy action”. It was time to confront our stalker. Three of the lads approached him, in a friendly manner I should say, and asked him why he was following us. He replied in perfect English, that “this was his area, and he was just keeping an eye on things”, and then walked off. Weird. Me and Stu went out 5 minutes later to check he really had gone, which he had, and then I spotted a completely different guy mooching aimlessly at the top of the passage. No big deal I thought, some guy waiting for his date or a cab? But when we went out again after a lovely starter and a beer, he was still there. We made it obvious that we’d clocked him, by wishing him a very loud “Good Evening”, to which he affably replied in perfect English, and then he walked off too.

Needless to say, the rest of the evening was taken up by ever more outrageous theories as to what was going on. Had one of us been ‘flagged’ as a person of interest? (Don’t laugh, it happened to me before in India, where I spent a worrying 30 minutes convincing them I wasn’t the notorious criminal with a name slightly different from mine). Were we being used as part of a training exercise by the local plod or secret service? Or were they a couple of care-in-the-community cases on day release? Whoever, they were, they didn’t seem very professional, or maybe we only spotted them due to our superior ‘watcher’ skills or more likely, the sort of paranoia that sometimes happens when one walks round an unfamiliar place. My final theory, which was agreed by three of us, was that they were watch thieves waiting for an opportunity. Stu was wearing a replica Rolex, worth a few quid maybe, but possibly passing for a twenty-grand original. I told him to take it off!

By the way, the restaurant, Deus Cafe Isola, was very good, if a little expensive, and I’d recommend it to all. Due to the excitement, I can’t remember what I ate…

Day 4 – Milan to Igoumenitsa via Brindisi

This was going to be a long day. An eight-hour train from Milan direct to Brindisi, followed by an overnight ferry to Greece.

The day started well enough, there didn’t seem to be anyone following us, and we made it to Porto Garibaldi station in plenty of time for our 10:13 departure. As is usual, with 15 minutes to go we scanned the departures board looking for the platform to board. Our train was there, but no platform showing. The minutes ticked by and the train details advanced up the board, but still with no platform. Then with 4 minutes to go, it just disappeared from the board. Panic ensued, this was a “must catch” train. Of course, there was no staff to ask. Then, very luckily, Mark spotted another board behind the giant one, and there was our train with the platform showing, and as Murphy’s Law would have it, on the other side of the station. Well, for 5 old codgers, we covered that distance in pretty good time, and just made it on to the train as whistles were blowing and flags waving.

After this exertion, we needed a drink, and as if to make up for their earlier ineptitude, a very nice lady entered our carriage and started pouring the Prosecco. We were in a quiet coach, by accident rather than design, and as 5 excited guys, glad to have not missed the train, glad to have evaded the stalkers, and buoyed by perhaps more Prosecco than is wise, we were admonished at least twice by fellow passengers for raising our voices above the permitted library-level whisper.

Like the French TGV, the Frecciarossa fairly zooms along, and thanks to the comfy seats, and availability of decent food and drink, the 8-hour journey covering most of the length of Italy went very quickly. I noticed that at each station stop, the diehard smokers would open the door and loiter in the stairwell having a crafty fag, without stepping on to the platform and risking the train chugging off without them.

Back in the 1970s Brindisi was a bit “wild-west”, and I was half expecting to see a few leery coves as we clambered off the train straight into the street. But no, Brindisi seemed very safe, and the main street was a well-lit cornucopia of very nice-looking bars and restaurants. We had a couple of hours before we were due to check in at the ferry, so we sat outside at the Rendezvous Bistro and had a delicious 2 courses and a bottle or two of red. Eating out is always a pleasure in Italy and made even nicer by being able to sit outside and watch the world go by.

A quick taxi ride took us to Brindisi port and check-in to the ferry was fairly painless. To be honest, I’d been expecting the ferry to be pretty awful, based on previous experience of Italian ferries and reviews of this route written a few years ago. In fact, the whole experience was very good indeed and was well worth the 170 Euro fare. The cabin was spotless and comfortable, the lounge bar was akin to that on a cruise ship and the morning breakfast at the restaurant was first class and cheap. I was woken from a dreamless, sea-induced, wonderful slumber by an announcement that we all had to vacate our cabins. The 9-hour cruise on the Kydon Palace had passed in no time, and it was time to step onto Greek soil. A few passengers looked the worse for wear, but maybe they hadn’t booked cabins, or more likely they’d taken advantage of the bar, which stays open all night through the sailing!

Day 5 – Igoumenitsa to Corfu

Apart from a couple of months in summer, there’s no direct ferry from Brindisi to Corfu, so you must sail to Igoumenitsa then catch the local ferry to Corfu. This is pretty quick, around 90 minutes, and cheap at 6.50 Euro. The Kerkyra Lines boat was a bit of a tub, but got us there ok, despite the storm that seemed to be brewing off the coast of Corfu. Just as we arrived the heavens opened, and we were caught in a giant port car park in a real downpour. I bravely volunteered to go to the car hire place alone, whilst the lads recovered in a handily placed bar near the port entrance. The rain stopped as soon as it started, in fact it remained glorious weather the rest of the week.

I hate hiring cars in Europe, there’s so much rigmarole. In the USA, it’s generally a doddle and you get to pick which car you want from a whole row of them. In Europe, it’s so different and always seems to take way longer than necessary. The guy at Sunrise Car Rentals was nice and friendly, but it felt like I was asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage, rather than temporarily being granted ownership of a Toyota Pro-ace “brand new” car, (brand new my ass, with 14000 km on the clock), and the list of questions and forms to sign went on for 25 minutes. I even had to video the car before I was allowed to leave and had to quell the guy’s anxiety by assuring him that we did actually have automatic cars in the UK, and I would promise to drive on the right, and I would definitely not go off-road.

Stu had arranged to rent a villa, and it was gigantic. You could easily have slept a dozen in it. We had drawn lots for room picking order, but despite my middle ranking in the pecking order, I managed to land the best room, which due to its odd position out of the way on the ground floor, had been overlooked in the mad scramble. Serendipity was working again for me!

As the group’s tech wizard, I made sure the telly was working, and found to our dismay that no sports channels were provided. Then found, thanks to Google Maps, that the Wembley Sports Bar in Corfu Town was open until midnight with the lure of showing all English Premier League matches. So, with our venue sorted for Man City vs Burnley, we caught the number 10 bus and went on the hunt for somewhere nice to eat, of which there is no shortage in the town.

We settled on Ta Kokoria in one of the back streets near the square, enticed by the reasonable prices and the promise of freshly caught fish. For me, Greek food and wine can be a bit hit-or-miss, but yet again, we dined well, and the Greek red was surprisingly good. So, sated, we made our way to the Wembley bar and spent a disappointing two hours watching City fumble a win against an already relegated team, pretty rubbish really, but as a United fan, I would say that wouldn’t I?

Day 6 – Corfu

Woke up to the sound of goats bleating in the garden next door, and the smell of breakfast cooking. Mark was doing a sterling job of knocking up the bacon butties and beans on toast, and the Greek yoghurt we’d picked up at Lidl the day before was beyond good.

Today was going to be a trip down memory lane. Back in the 70s some of the lads had stayed at a youth hostel at Agios Ioannis, a few km outside town, and today we were going to visit it, 50 years later. It was still a sleepy little village, but the hostel was long gone, and the rooms and corridors which had once housed drunks and druggies from all over Europe, (especially Scandinavia!) now formed a beautiful boutique hotel, the Archontiko Petrettini. A very nice young lady offered to show us around and showed a real interest in how it used to be, particularly the graphic descriptions of the various antics of the 70s “groovy” crowd.

An old English guy was sat in the square in front of the hotel, and he amazed us by telling us that an old favourite watering hole, Costa’s, across the square was still open. Costa himself had passed on years ago, but his daughter, who I’m told was much lusted after, was still running it. We couldn’t resist going there, and after brief introductions, we spent a wonderful hour with her, comparing old tales, old photos and happy memories.

Me and Livvy visit lots of luxury hotels, so when I found there was a local 5 star, the Domes, which had opened in 2021, I couldn’t resist taking a peek. By coincidence, the hotel was on Glyfada beach, which used to be a long, long walk from the hostel, but was now a convenient 10-minute drive. Lunch was taken by the pool, and it was so hot that we felt it incumbent upon us to have a few bevvies too, unfortunately only coke in my case!

After a nap at the villa, we ventured out for a 10-minute walk to Max’s restaurant, where, by a combination of drink taken, and the language barrier, we managed to massively over-order. A charming practice in Europe is the ability to order wine in a carafe, more than a glass, but less than a bottle, and usually from the cheaper end of the wine list. Max’s was no exception and I took full advantage, having been designated driver all day. So, I can’t remember what I ate, but it was a lot.

Day 7 – Corfu

We’d stayed up a while after last night’s feast and attempted to watch the movie “One Battle After Another”. I couldn’t remember anything about it, except that we thought it was brilliant. Having watched it now whilst sober, I can confirm it deserves all of its Oscars. Mark also deserved an award for valiantly serving up another breakfast, and after that it was time to hit the road.

The plan today was to drive the length of the island, down to Kavos, for lunch. Driving in Corfu can be a bit hair-raising, especially if you leave the main road, which I foolishly did. We wanted to see a recommended viewpoint, and it took nearly an hour of vertiginous hills, very sharp hairpin bends and several near misses with sheep before we got to it. The 360-degree views at the Kaiser’s Throne were spectacular and worth the effort. Even at a fairly quiet time of the year, there was a small queue to climb the few steps up to the rocky viewing area.

We quickly found the main road down to Kavos and visited the Falconeria restaurant. This wonderful place sits on the beach and serves all manner of seafood. I’d already checked it was open, as Kavos itself was pretty quiet. The lady at Falconeria told us that the season only starts around the end of May.

On the way back to the Villa, I filled the car with diesel, which surprisingly, although commonly in Europe, was cheaper than the petrol. Mark, the font of all knowledge where cars are concerned, told me it’s because of lower government taxes designed to subsidize the commercial haulage industry, and I checked what he said, and he’s correct!

As it was our last night, dinner was a subdued affair, but good nonetheless, at Rex Restaurant in Corfu Town. I felt it was a little overpriced, especially the wine, so I stuck to Mythos beer, which is always reliable.

We had planned to watch a bit of Sunderland vs Forest at the Wembley bar, but it was closed, maybe they thought it wasn’t worth staying up late for. In the event they were wrong as Forest won 5-0!

Day 8 – Corfu to Manchester

The last day, and the plan was to return the car and get to the airport for our Ryanair flight at 3pm. We had toyed with the idea of getting the train back to Blighty, and I suspect we would have done that, had it not been for the inconvenience of having to ferry it back to Italy, mainly because the rail network in Greece is pretty poor.

All went to plan, and my worry that we would spend 4 hours queueing at passport control was unfounded, as it was empty, and we sailed through.

The flight was fine, I didn’t buy a scratch card as I reckon I’d used all my luck the previous week in catching all the right trains at the right times, picking great hotels and restaurants, and avoiding stalkers in Milan!

Already planned the next lads rail trip, roll on April 2027!

Travel Tips and Links

I always try to book a hotel on the outskirts with good transport links in. In Paris and Milan I reckon we saved nearly £1000 between five of us.

Get Interrail passes at https://www.interrail.eu/en – there’s usually a sale of 25% off around Black Friday in November. Sometimes they have a spring/summer sale too. It’s definitely worth spending a bit extra on the first-class upgrade. Remember there will be seat reservation fees to pay on top of the pass cost. For more info see the site and Facebook group below.

Brilliant site for rail info – https://www.seat61.com/

One of my favourite Facebook Groups – Interrailing for the older crowd – https://www.facebook.com/groups/1637955309915473/

Our villa on Booking.com – https://www.booking.com/Share-YqCiatw

Our Milan hotel on Booking.com – https://www.booking.com/Share-AJxtSo

I like these guys for ferry bookings – https://www.directferries.co.uk/

Our car hire company in Corfu – https://corfusunrise.com/