After the museum, we decided to walk up the coast to the old fort.
Walking across the pathway. This was previously a peninsula but the Venetians in the 14th century dug this channel so that it became an island. This citadel saw action against the Turks over 1537 and 1716 and over and over and over. As I mentioned before, Corfu was one of the few places which held out against the Turks, very brave soldiers indeed. The Ottomans were fierce fighters no doubt but this was impressive.
A fresco, from a church.
In periodic intervals, this strange formation was seen on the walls. Presumably some kind of Venetian Symbol? The central section was too worn away to make out what it was all about.
Going through and you see these small shop like structures. The British occupied this for a long time as well, so presumably they used this for storage?
Now we actually saw how high this was and how much we have to climb. The moans and whines from the family slowly started to rise to a crescendo.
Climbing the stairs, there was another flat area where many of these guns, cannons and mortars were placed. Big ass bits, I wouldnt want to be on the receiving end of what they spat out…
This is an extraordinary building, I first thought this was a hold over from ancient Grecian times but no, the Doric Columns and classical Greek structure was built in the 18th century during British Rule.
We found a cute little well and both girls wanted to chuck a penny into it. Diya managed to do it perfectly, while her mum took 2 tries to get the penny into the well. I am not sure if wishes count for bad throwers. This is why India loose at cricket.
The other side, one can see the old harbour, the island etc. The rest of the family decided to stay down below where it was shady and let Baba drag his carcass on his dodgy knee up the 300 more steps. I was huffing and puffing badly.
Stone gun ring. Must be pre 15th century at least. Can you imagine hauling the gun up to here? And then the ammunition? Well, not like they had anything else to do, so least they could do was to haul away.
This citadel spoke to me in so many places. It was fairly quiet, not that many people and when the family’s piteous cries would die down and I would concentrate hard, I could hear the Venetian gunners bellowing orders and the cries of the sailors drifting in the warm zephyr. You could almost feel the tread of the British Marines marching up and down in the courtyard practising their marching exercises. I saw the hospital and i could almost be inside, sick with dysentery, cholera or any of the medieval diseases, lying on cool white cotton sheets, the shutters thrown wide open, feeling the breeze and watching the schooners sail by, with the sounds of creaking wood and flapping sails.