Old Perithia — Attraction in Municipality of Northern Corfu

The Hidden Heart of Old Perithia: A Village Surrounded by the Almighty

High in the northern mountains of Corfu, where the wind carries the scent of wild thyme and sea salt, lies a village time has almost forgotten — Old Perithia. Nestled beneath Mount Pantokrator, “The Almighty,” this 14th-century settlement is more than a collection of weather-worn stone houses. It is a living story — one carved by faith, endurance, and love.

Built entirely by hand during the Venetian era, Old Perithia was a refuge for islanders escaping pirate raids and coastal storms. Families fled the shoreline centuries ago, carrying little more than their faith and a fierce will to rebuild. They shaped this mountain village from the earth itself, stone by stone, surrounding it with eight humble churches, as if to encircle their lives with blessing. That’s how the village earned its name — Perithia, from the Greek peri and theia, meaning “surrounded by the holy.”

Even today, walking through its narrow cobbled paths feels like moving through time. The air is still, the bells silent, yet everything seems to hum with memory. The old walls breathe stories — of monks and merchants, farmers and shepherds, of families who once lit candles at dusk and watched the mist roll down from Pantokrator’s peak.

But not all stories here belong to faith and survival. Some, whispered by the locals, belong to the heart.

They say that not far from the village, near the caves on the road leading down to the sea, a massive rock formation stands as a monument to love. Long ago, a man from Old Perithia built it for his wife — not as a fortress, but as a gift. A labor of devotion, shaped from the mountain itself, overlooking the Ionian’s endless blue. He carved it so that when the morning sun touched its face, the light would fall across the waves in a path that reached toward her window. It was his way of saying: My love, even when the sea divides us, the sun will always find you.

Whether legend or truth, the story feels at home here. Because Old Perithia itself is a love story — between people and place, between endurance and grace. Its stones still stand, softened by moss and memory, watching the modern world rush by below.

As you stand at the edge of that great sea rock and look toward the horizon, you can feel the echo of both — the devotion that built the rock, and the faith that built the village. Two acts of creation, bound by the same quiet vow: to make...

A surreal experience.

We worked our way up the winding roads through the mountain to this abandoned village perched on the top.

The mountain bears scars of the recent wildfires with devastation to the trees and greenery. Much of the route was black and charred. Right up to the edges of the buildings. I can only imagine how terrifying this must have been for the few remaining inhabitants.

We reached the village to find crumbling ruins of houses, a little humbling to think that 60 years ago there were people living and working there routinely. Now just a handful of people seem to live there.

The village was originally populated from the village below when pirates were attacking the island routinely, this enabled the locals to live their lives on the other side of the mountain out of sight from the sea. The village was then abandoned in the 1960s following an outbreak of a virus amongst the residents.

A few tavernas have gradually reopened serving decent enough food. Also a small boutique hotel has opened there. Certainly a remote place to stay.

I recommend a visit up there, the views are...

I had high hopes for this old village nestled in the mountains and the road up there didn’t disappoint on views. However, once you arrive, the sprawl of abandoned 14th century village ruins are so poorly marked and explained that one loses the ability to know what is a genuine ruin or what’s a dilapidated old shack that someone more recently hastily put up.

It’s picturesque due to the wild setting alone. Many of the abandoned buildings are now vandalised with graffiti and other damage. The broken down ceilings feel like they could collapse on you at any moment. After half an hour of hapless wandering we decided to call it a day and fortunately just followed the road until we lucked back I to finding the parking lot.

This place could have been so much more. Now it seems like a strange and inadequately executed attempt at preserving heritage that no one seems to really...