Dubrovnik: Croatia’s southern-most gem

It’s Thursday evening and the sun is about to set. I’m sitting on the windowsill of our little room looking west. If not for one house in front of me I would have a clear view of the Adriatic and the setting sun. But life is not perfect so I won’t complain if the tip of its roof covers the last bit of the setting sun. To my left I have Dubrovnik’s harbor below me. The sunlight is playing off of the white and cream facades of all the buildings and shimmering in the water as the clouds progressively become more yellow, than orange and finally achieve a shade of purple. Just behind the harbor are more green mountains as the land loops in on itself creating a little bay in which all the little boats can calmly dock. When the mountain slopes descend a bit the Adriatic Sea and some nearby islands are revealed. If I poke my head out and look behind me (East), the Old Town should be visible, but my position on the windowsill is a little too precarious to attempt such a maneuver.

The house in which we managed to secure a “Sobe” (a room), is situated on a relatively steep hillside overlooking Dubrovnik. Like in Veliko Tarnovo the two main directions seem to be up and down and there is no shortage of stairs.

This will now be our third night in Dubrovnik and our wish for nicer weather was only partially fulfilled. When we left Kotor the prior night’s storm had all but disappeared and we were greated by a gorgeous blue sky and a shimmering bay. Our drive north-west along the Adriatic coast was simply mesmerizing and this weather kept up on our first day in Dubrovnik.

After securing our accommodations we headed to the Stari Grad (Old Town). It was much larger than Kotor’s and in a way much more pretentious, but deservedly so. The light glistened off of its marble-like pavement that was so polished by the thousands of feet that crossed it daily, that one could organize sliding competitions on it. The glorious cathedrals and churches appeared around every corner and all of this was encompassed by the magnificent fortification walls that surrounded the entire city. Sitting on the patio of a restaurant in one of Dubrovnik’s many squares, the city reminded me a little of Venice, minus the canals. It had the same grandness to it, an ageless quality that takes your breath away.

Maybe Dubrovnik would not have made the same first impression if the weather had not been so perfect. But the white stones of the old city, its grand clock towers and walls all set against the crisp deep blue sky dotted with little white fluffy clouds made the city appear fairytale-like. The sun reflected off of the turquoise water and the buildings and at times was bright enough that you almost forgot the thousands of tourists jostling in the streets alongside you. I think that was Dubrovnik’s main drawback: the endless busloads of tourists that inundate nearly every corner of the Old Town’s little streets (and it’s not even high season yet).

We decided that we had to see the city without the crowds and planned on waking up before sunrise and making our way down to the Old Town to see it empty and then to explore the fortification walls before the arrival of the crowds (since they charge 10 Euro to climb them, we figured we’d better be the first ones there).

Unfortunately on the following morning the weather was not very cooperative. Rather than heading into the Old Town we decided to catch a ferry to the nearby island of Mljet famous for its Salt Lakes, National Park and the numerous hiking and biking trails. Without the sunshine the Adriatic lost most of its appeal but the weather seemed to be good enough for a bike ride along the island.

So once there we rented ourselves some mountain bikes and proceeded up hill and towards the lakes. Once there the water proved enticing enough to warrant a swim, although I was the only one to do so, and as per the warning sign, I made sure not to do this in a “natural” fashion since no naturalism was allowed. After the swim we continued biking along the lake shore, past the little lake and along the large lake, only to come to the edge of the Adriatic. Apparently their name is only partially accurate. Yes, the lakes are indeed salty, since they are connected to the sea, but given this connection, it seems a little bit inappropriate to call them lakes. But semantics aside, it started raining, and not just a little drizzle. We managed to wait the worst of it off under some bushes and then proceeded to make our return journey as quickly as possible. Once back in the port we returned the bikes and warmed up over a delicious lunch in a little restaurant overlooking the tiny harbor.

Four our third day in Dubrovnik the alarm was set for 4:30am, yet the unrelenting splish-splash of the pouring rain outside of our window resulted in its resetting to 6:30am. By that time the rain had eased up to a drizzle and we began to entertain thoughts that it might indeed clear up.
We headed out around 8:30 arriving in the Old Town when there still weren’t too many tourists and roamed its streets for a while. However, in the colder and grayer weather the town had lost some of its charm. The rest of the day was spent exploring the less touristy corners of Dubrovnik and visiting a fantastic photo exhibition entitled Troubled Islam and Ex-Jugoslavija 1991-1999. The photos of Ziyah Gafic were essentially short stories from the aftermath to recent conflicts in Bosnia (tales from the dark valley), Palestine (land without people for people without land), Lebanon (against all odds), Iraq (Saddam city), Afghanistan (damaged people, damaged landscape), Pakistan (short notice), Chechnya (the scariest place on earth), and Northern Ossetia (love thy neighbor). As powerful as these photos were, they provided a sad reminder of the ongoing struggle for daily life, whether it be a struggle to stay alive, for food, electricity, a home or the security from prosecution.

Tomorrow we’re off to the Island of Korcula but first will make yet another attempt to see Durbovnik at sunrise. Hopefully the weather will cooperate and for now I’m optimistic. Although the sky behind me is dark with clouds, but in front of me the setting sun had just turned entire patches of it an amazing purple color. The benefits of traveling in off-season are lesser crowds and no need to book accommodations in advance. The downside of it is the unpredictable weather.

PS: I'm posting this post at just after 6:00am while sitting on a terrace patio in a yet to be opened cafe and watching Dubrovnik slowly wake up as the birds still have the rule over the streets and the sky. We could not have wished for a nicer morning.