It’s difficult to get lost anymore. The widespread use of GPS devices, whether installed in your car or on your phone, has made getting to previously unfamiliar destinations easy. Or at least easier.

So how was it that we managed to get lost on Corfu, the Greek island that is just 36 miles long and, at most, 17 miles wide? And more than once.

The adventure began when we left the main beach in the village of Palaiokastritsa, which I wrote about in my last post. (The short update: Following our week-plus visit to Albania, we were spending a short time on Corfu with our Spokane friends Ann and Matt.)

Using Google Maps, we started out from the beach – which sits on the west side of the island – and tried to find a way south before heading back to our resort on Corfu’s east coast.

Second-guessing our decision at this late date, we should have read some of the online advice given by others who have used the same service internationally. One on Tripadvisor may have said it best. Agreeing that Google does work in Greece, the UK writer added, “Just don't rely exclusively on them. They are not 100 percent accurate, and they nearly always underestimate distances and driving times. Use them, but have a good paper map as well.”

Use a paper map? What are you, some kind of Boomer? Well, yeah, we are. And I’d had plenty of opportunities to buy a paper map at the local Spokane AAA store before we left. But I didn’t think it was necessary.

Anyway, that’s how we ended up driving not just once but twice through the mountain village of Sinarades, a charming little place that we got to experience up close and personal. And by up close, I mean that I haven’t had to navigate my way through streets that narrow since I drove around the entire island of Sicily. I still experience night-terrors when recalling that trip, amazing as it was.

On Corfu, that irritating Google voice kept telling us to turn left or turn right or “proceed to the route,” even when I knew that I’d already traveled that same way and was no doubt going to end up in the same place. Talk about déjà vu.

We finally got on the right road, without having to resort to old-school map-reading (actually just going by dead-reckoning). And we arrived in time to take a short dip in our room’s private pool. It was an icy plunge, the sun not having had much effect on the water temperature despite the 80-plus-degree heat.

We opted to eat dinner at a nearby restaurant, Zorba’s Taverna, and while the elderly server was friendly enough, the food was merely OK. We did enjoy the in-house cat, though, who seemed to expect us to throw him/her/them scraps (which were plentiful).

We rose the next day intent on discovering what the guidebook promised was a “sandy beach.” So far, except for Palaiokastritsa, the beaches had been mostly rocky (or at least pebbly). We drove south to Boukari Beach, but the beach itself turned out to be mostly coarse sand and rocks – even if the water itself looked inviting.

So we drove on, cursing the GPS voice that was no help at all. Finally, we stopped at a local hotel and Matt asked one of the workers directions. Note: Again, we were pleased at how friendly the locals were. He told us how to get to Marathias Beach. So we shut off the irritating voice, followed his advice and soon emerged at one of the great beach experiences ever.

I parked at a free public spot a few hundred yards from a series of umbrellas set in front of an outdoor restaurant. The wide beach, sandy as promised, stretched out left and right as far as I could see. We hiked up the narrow lane, past the sign that announced Wave Beach Bar and asked a smiling server how much it would cost to rent a spot under some of the umbrellas. He told us it would cost nothing more than ordering some drinks.

So we did. Especially for a Friday, the place was pleasantly uncrowded. And we spent the rest of the afternoon sipping at cold drinks (non-alcoholic, of course) and alternately napping, reading or testing the water.

That evening, Mary Pat found another place for dinner, George and Elena’s Taverna. Clearly a spot popular with locals, the restaurant served us meals that far outshone the food at Zorba’s, the fresh fish dishes particularly tasty. And the owner, George, was affable, personable and larger than life (we could have done without the Mariachi band, though).

The next morning, our last in Corfu, we checked out of the resort. But before we drove to the airport, we stopped at one of the island’s must-see spots, the Achillion Palace. The palace – and that’s the correct word for it – was built and then preserved by two famous European figures, first Empress Elisabeth of Austria (known as ‘Sissi’) and Kaiser William II of Germany.

Then it was off to the Corfu Airport to catch our flight to Athens. And it was good that we (for once) arrived early as it took nearly an hour to check our bags.

In the Athens Airport, we said goodbye to Ann and Matt, who were headed for the island of Santorini. Mary Pat and I walked across the street to the ridiculously expensive (but eminently convenient) Sofitel Airport Hotel.

The next day we rose early to catch our Air France flight to Paris, where we’d then connect to Seattle. In Paris, at Charles de Gaulle Airport, the usual confusion reigned, with hard-to-navigate transfer gates and conflicting signs making me nostalgic for the irritating voice of Google Maps.

We ended up making our flight sweaty and anxious with barely nine minutes to spare. But I’ve already written about our Air France nightmare.

I’d rather end this post with memories of a sandy Corfu beach and an afternoon spent under a welcoming Greek sun.