Corfu is bigger than first-timers expect. It runs something like 60 kilometres from the narrow strait facing Albania in the north down to Cape Asprokavos at the southern tip, and almost none of that distance is straight. The roads climb, switchback and drop through olive terraces, so driving top to bottom takes well over an hour, and closer to two in August traffic. That single fact decides the shape of the whole trip. Where you sleep on Corfu is not a detail to settle after the flights are booked — it determines which half of the island you will actually see.
The island splits into a handful of distinct bases, each with its own character, its own price logic and its own season. Below is how to choose between them, roughly what each costs, how to move between them, and the order that works.
Key facts
- One base or two: for a week, most travellers do best splitting between Corfu Town and one coastal base
- Car or not: only Corfu Town genuinely works car-free
- Sweet-spot months: May, June, mid-September and early October
- Closed season: much of the coast shuts from roughly November to April
How many bases, and how long
Three nights is enough for Corfu Town and no more. It is a compact old town and you will have walked it twice by the second evening. A week is the natural length for the island as a whole, and the split that causes the least friction is three nights in the capital followed by four somewhere coastal. Ten days lets you add a third base on the west coast without spending a whole day of it in the car.
What does not work is a single coastal base with day trips to everything. Pick Kassiopi in the far northeast and the drive to the southern dunes is the better part of two hours each way; you will do it once, resent it, and not do it again. Corfu rewards depth in one corner far more than it rewards completeness.
Two bases also solve the car problem neatly. Corfu Town is walkable and well served by buses, so you can collect a hire car on the morning you leave it rather than paying for it to sit in a garage for three days.
Corfu Town: for atmosphere, and the only car-free base
The UNESCO-listed capital is the obvious first base, and the only part of the island that behaves like a city rather than a resort. The old town is a dense grid of Venetian lanes — tall shuttered houses, washing lines, sudden small squares — bounded by the Old Fortress on its rock, the wide green Spianada where you can still catch a game of cricket, and the arcaded Liston, built under French rule and said to be modelled on the Rue de Rivoli in Paris.
There is more to see here than most people budget for. The Old Fortress costs around EUR 6 to enter and is worth an hour for the view back across the rooftops. The Achilleion, the palace built in the hills at Gastouri for Empress Elisabeth of Austria and later bought by Kaiser Wilhelm II, charges about EUR 7; it typically opens early and stays open into the evening from spring through October, closing in the late afternoon over the winter. The Palace of St Michael and St George on the north side of the Spianada holds a collection of Asian art usually described as the only one of its kind in Greece, and it is a genuine surprise in a town nobody visits for museums. South of the centre, the Kanoni headland looks down on the small white Vlacherna monastery on its causeway and the cypress-topped islet of Pontikonisi behind it — the view you have already seen on the postcards, and at its most flattering late in the day.
Hotels range from restored townhouses inside the old town, of which Siora Vittoria, a nineteenth-century mansion just behind the Liston, is the model, to grander addresses on the bay such as the Cavalieri, whose rooftop bar is the standing local recommendation for a first drink. Expect to pay noticeably more per night here in August than for an equivalent room on the coast, and check the parking arrangement before booking anything inside the old town, where most lanes are pedestrian or barely passable.
The trade-off is water. There is no swimming beach in the capital worth the walk, so you will take a bus or drive. Stay two or three nights for the culture and the food, then move on.
The island's serious restaurants cluster around here. The Venetian Well, in a small square in the old town, does a short modern Mediterranean menu in a seventeenth-century building; and at Kato Korakiana, about twenty minutes north on the road towards Dassia, Etrusco holds a Michelin star under Ettore Botrini and has been named restaurant of the year in Greece repeatedly by the FNL Guide. Reserve both well ahead in high season.
The northeast coast: Barbati to Kassiopi
The stretch of pebble coves running north from Barbati through Nissaki, Agni, Kalami and Agios Stefanos to Kassiopi is Corfu at its most composed: olive hills dropping straight into water so clear that moored boats appear to hover, with the Albanian mountains close enough across the channel to read the weather on them.
This is where Lawrence Durrell lived with his wife Nancy in the late 1930s and wrote Prospero's Cell. The White House at Kalami, the building they rented, is still there and now operates as a restaurant with rooms. Worth getting straight: his younger brother Gerald, whose My Family and Other Animals made the family famous, spent those same years at houses nearer Corfu Town, so this is Lawrence's coast rather than the whole clan's — a distinction locals will correct you on.
This is villa country above all, with small boutique hotels scattered between and a few larger properties such as the adults-only Atlantica Nissaki Beach. It suits couples, walkers and anyone who intends to get on the water. Several operators at Kassiopi and Agios Stefanos hire out small open boats you can drive without a licence, typically for somewhere around EUR 80 to 150 a day plus fuel, and that is the right way to reach Agni Bay. Three tavernas sit on that bay with nothing behind them but hillside — Toula's, running since the early 1980s, Taverna Nikolas and Agni — and arriving by sea rather than down the steep track is half the pleasure.
A car is essential here, and the roads are narrow with blind bends and no lighting. The one inland detour genuinely worth a morning is Old Perithia, a fourteenth-century Venetian village in a green bowl below Mount Pantokrator, largely abandoned during the last century and now partly restored, with a handful of family tavernas doing mountain cooking. From there a path climbs to Corfu's summit at 906 metres in roughly one to two hours each way; there is a monastery and a cafe at the top, and on a clear morning the whole island below. Go early, because the summer haze closes in around midday.