It’s a travel cliché to say that there are two versions of a place — the one the tourists see and the real place — but it is particularly true of Dubrovnik, Croatia’s sparkling phoenix of a city, risen from the carnage of a vicious civil war to become one of the Mediterranean’s biggest draws. It’s up there with Venice; a spectacular walled city by the sea, thrust into the spotlight by Game of Thrones and now a victim of its own success.
On certain days, up to four mega-sized cruise ships dock in the nearby port of Gruz and the town is flooded with day-trippers. Put simply, there is cruise-ship Dubrovnik and there is actual Dubrovnik; two very different places.
I’ve watched this city’s remarkable rise since the mid-Nineties, when restoration work began on the 70 per cent of the city’s buildings that had taken direct hits in the war, to today, when the limestone-flagged main street, Stradun, gleams against beautiful blond-stone mansions and churches. Walking through Ploce Gate, with the impressive frontage of St Blaise’s Church looming against a teal-blue sky, it looks little different from when I visited it before the war.
Before I leave my hotel, the receptionist tells me that the best places to eat are on the left side of the Stradun (as you head north). The right side is “all for tourists”. I take her advice and duck down an alley beside the church, walking through Gundulic Square, where the last of the morning’s market stalls are still luring visitors with prettily tied bags of sugared almonds and dried figs. The square gives way to a baroque staircase, modelled in 1738 on the Spanish Steps. I climb them slowly, turning at the top to take in the café-lined square and streets, and the mountains beyond.
What saves the Old Town from being simply a tourist curiosity is that it remains a place where people live and work. From the top of the steps, I turn into an alley that winds along the hill. There are no shops or pizzerias, only the sounds of domesticity coming from the open windows: children squabbling, tinny radios, the sound of some sort of DIY taking place. When the alley opens on to a wider street, I dip into a small supermarket to buy water and find two large metal vats of wine tucked behind the fridge, waiting for locals to come and fill bottles. The price is 10 kuna (£1) a litre. A few steps away, tourists are paying five times that for a glass.
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The next day, the ships arrive and I decide to head to Cavtat, one of the prettiest villages on this stretch of the coast, and the rural hinterland of Konavle. The war, from 1991 to 1995, ravaged this area and yet it is lushly peaceful and rural tourism is blooming. I stop at the Vodopic Vineyard and drink Malvasia Dubrovacka — a crisp, dry white — and eat oil-soaked cheese. Above, birds are wheeling and the sun blazes out of a flawless sky. It feels like a place at peace. A place reborn.
The boat back to Dubrovnik from Cavtat’s pretty harbour is a glorious 40-minute judder past the sleepy villages of Mlini and Plat, dwarfed by the mountains behind them. When I arrive back at the harbour, it’s tempting to jump on another boat to the nearby island of Lokrum, only 15 minutes away, or to Kolocep, where the wonderful Villa Ruza restaurant serves crisp calamari and fresh fish at tables by the sea. It’s a little late in the day, so I decide to go the next morning.
A stiff breeze and choppy sea change my plan. Instead, I stroll to the War Photo museum, where images of Dubrovnik ablaze and deserted form a contrast to the vibrant city outside the museum doors. It’s a moving, thought-provoking place and the images stay with me as I walk towards Lapad, the newer part of town. The road rises and steps lead down to a grassy stepped terrace lined with seats. The views are spectacular and I sit awhile, thinking of the two famous Buza bars in the Old Town with their clusters of tables right by the sea, backed by the city walls. They offer the same vista but none of the peace.
It’s an easy bus ride back to the Old Town. I hop off at the cable car which, like walking the walls, is a must-do for first-time visitors. Beneath it lies the best pizzeria in town, Tabasco. I have had its satellite dish-sized pizzas before and instead head to Dolce Vita, Dubrovnik’s best gelateria. Famous for its pancakes and beloved by locals, its lip-smacking very dark chocolate ice cream is so big that I can’t finish it, yet it costs only £1.
I spend the evening sitting on the terrace at the elegant Villa Orsula, watching as the sun drifts behind the imposing walls and the sea takes on an iridescent sheen. I think of all the things I haven’t had time to do — a classical concert in the Rector’s Palace; a cocktail at Restaurant 360°, the town’s swankiest eaterie; a glide across to tranquil, uninhabited Lokrum. Quite how people think they can see the city in half a day is beyond me, but then they only get to see cruise-ship Dubrovnik, and that’s not the real Dubrovnik at all.
The People We Were Before, Annabelle Thorpe’s debut novel, is set in Croatia and published by Quercus, £14.99
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Need to know
Annabelle Thorpe was a guest of the Croatian tourist board (croatia.hr) and of Norwegian (0330 8280854, norwegian.com/uk), which has flights from Gatwick to Dubrovnik from £79.80 return. Holiday Extras (holidayextras.co.uk) has doubles in Gatwick hotels from £55 a night.
Where to eat
Proto, off the Stradun, (esculaprestaurants.com) serves classic Croatian dishes — squid ink risotto and crispy sea bass — on a lovely roof terrace, with dinner for two costing about £60. For a rustic, simple lunch, head to Moskar Konoba (Prijeko 16), where a plate of local ham, cheese and a couple of beers costs about £10. For pizza, nowhere beats Tabasco (Hvarska 48a); one is easily big enough to share.
The budget hotel
Hotel Kompas reopened in August last year and has wonderful views from the Lapad peninsula across to Dubrovnik, particularly from the rooftop terrace. Communal areas have a chic Sixties feel, while the rooms are sleek and comfortable, if a touch bland. B&B doubles cost from £90 a night (adriaticluxuryhotels.com).
The luxury hotel
Villa Orsula (00 385 20 440 588, adriaticluxuryhotels.com) is a gorgeous, 19th-century mansion on the waterfront with spectacular views of the Old Town from its elegant terrace. Guests can use the spa facilities and beach at the adjoining Grand Villa Argentina. B&B doubles cost from £357 a night.