Old Fortress, Corfu

Listen first. Somewhere below you, water slaps gently against stone. It moves slowly through a narrow channel, dark green and still, under a low bridge. The air carries salt from the open sea and, faintly, coffee from the cafés behind you. You are standing at the edge of the Old Fortress of Corfu, and that quiet channel is the reason it exists at all.

The channel is called the Contrafossa. It is a sea moat, cut by hand, and it turns this rocky headland into an island. On one side lies the town. On the other side rise the walls. For centuries, the only way across was a drawbridge, and whoever controlled that crossing controlled the heart of Corfu. Today the crossing is a simple bridge. Walk over it slowly, and look down at the boats tied along the water.

Now lift your eyes to the two rocky peaks above the walls. Those twin summits matter more than they first appear. Many historians link the island's Western name to them. The Byzantine Greeks called this place by a word meaning the peaks, or the summits... and over time, that word became Corfu. So the name of the whole island may come from the very rock in front of you.

People settled on this headland long before the stone walls you see now. In the Byzantine era, the main town of the island sat right here, crowded onto the promontory for safety. Raids and invasions came often across the Ionian Sea. A high rock with water on almost every side was the safest place to live. Over the centuries, the town slowly spilled out onto the flat land behind you.

Most of what surrounds you today is Venetian work. The Republic of Venice ruled Corfu from the late fourteenth century until 1797, more than four hundred years. Venice was a sea power, and Corfu guarded the entrance to the Adriatic, the narrow sea that leads up to Venice itself. As cannons grew stronger, the Venetians rebuilt the defences again and again. They lowered towers, thickened walls, and added angled bastions — pointed platforms that let defenders fire along the walls.

Keep an eye out for the winged lion. It is the symbol of Saint Mark, the patron saint of Venice, and the Venetians placed it on gates and walls across their territory. On Corfu you can still find these lions carved in stone. Some are worn smooth by weather. Some are damaged. Each one marks a place where Venice wanted every visitor to know exactly who was in charge.

Here is something many visitors miss. Corfu was one of the few Greek lands that the Ottoman Empire never conquered. The Ottomans tried several times. In 1537 they besieged the island and caused terrible damage to the countryside. In 1716 they came again with a very large army. The defenders held, and after weeks of fighting the Ottoman forces withdrew. This is why Corfu Town looks so Italian, and so different from much of mainland Greece.

The commander of that defence in 1716 was a German soldier in Venetian service, Count Johann Matthias von der Schulenburg. Venice honoured him while he was still alive, with a marble statue. You can see it near the entrance to the fortress, a figure in armour and a flowing wig. Locals also connect the victory with Saint Spyridon, the island's patron saint. Tradition says the saint himself helped to drive the enemy away, and Corfiots still celebrate that belief today.

After Venice fell, Corfu passed through French and Russian hands. Then, in 1815, the British arrived and stayed for about fifty years. They left their own mark inside these walls. As you walk deeper into the fortress, look for a building that seems to belong in ancient Athens. It is the Church of Saint George, built by the British in the form of a classical Greek temple, with heavy Doric columns across the front. Doric is the simplest style of ancient Greek column, with a plain, round top.

The church sits low near the water, and its pale columns look almost white against the sea. It was built as an Anglican church for the British garrison. When the islands joined Greece in 1864, it later became a Greek Orthodox church. Step inside if it is open. The space feels calm and bright, and the contrast with the rough military stone outside is striking.

Now comes the climb. Paths and steps lead up toward the higher peak, past old barracks, tunnels and storerooms. The stone underfoot is uneven, polished by many feet. At the top stands a lighthouse, and around it the whole of Corfu opens up. To one side lies the old town, its tall houses painted in soft yellow, ochre and pink. To the other side, the sea stretches toward the mountains of the Greek and Albanian mainland.

From up here, notice the large open space just across the moat. That is the Spianada, the great square of Corfu Town. The Venetians kept this ground clear on purpose. An open field meant that no attacker could approach the fortress under cover. Today, the same empty ground holds gardens, walking paths, and even a cricket pitch — a quiet gift from the British years. Military planning became a public park, almost by accident.

The fortress is not only a monument. Some of its old buildings now serve the city in new ways, including university departments and spaces for exhibitions and concerts. On some days you may hear music students practising somewhere behind the walls. The old town beyond the moat is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, recognised for this unusual mix of Venetian, French and British layers on a Greek island.

Before you leave, walk back down to the bridge and stop for a moment. Look at the water in the Contrafossa again. It has not changed much in hundreds of years. Behind you rise the peaks that may have given the island its name. In front of you, the town carries on with its coffee, its traffic and its conversations. As you cross over, listen to your own footsteps on the bridge... the same short walk that soldiers, governors and families have made for centuries.