Dubrovnik

There had been a snafu with our apartment in Dubrovnik, and we had had to change to another place, which would not be available until the day after we had planned to arrive.  Instead of changing locations in Dubrovnik, we decided to spend a night in Mali Ston, a small village on the Peljesac peninsula, near where the ferry would take us.  Mali Ston, and its next door neighbor village Ston, are famous for their oysters and mussels.  An enormous wall from the middle ages connects the two.  We made a reservation at the “presidential suite” of the Hotel Ostrea—the oyster hotel; it was the only room big enough to house the four of us. 

After checking in, we got some lunch at a restaurant right on the water.  We started with a dozen oysters, which were fabulous.  Alec also tried some oysters with dill basil sauce, but the sauce was a bit congealed, and a too-thick oyster soup.  My mussels with white wine and garlic, on the other hand, were quite good.  We were all pooped from the move out in the morning and the heat, so we napped and read, and then headed out sometime after four to drive along the peninsula, which is a well-known wine region.  I had read that Grgich Hills, a terrific Napa Valley winery, had a sister winery there, and I wanted to check it out.

We found it, and learned that the owner, Mike Grgic, is Croatian and owns both.  He started the Napa one in 1977 and returned to Croatia 20 years later to found the Croatian version.  This one makes only two wines—one red and one white.  I find the Croatian reds to have too much of a bite for me—they are highly alcoholic and very hot in the mouth, tannic and sharp; perhaps I’d find them more appealing in cooler weather.  The white was pleasant enough, and I bought a bottle to put in the fridge and share with Margo and Gregory in Dubrovnik.  We explored Ston on our way back, Milo scootering through its old streets. 

* * *

Alec, Milo and C.C. swam right after breakfast on Tuesday, floating in the water for a long time as an antidote for the heat, which is oppressive even in the morning.  The hotel internet finally got fixed as we were packing up, so we stayed in the room an extra hour to pay bills, respond to pressing emails, and download a bunch of movies and books for the next leg of our trip.

The drive from Mali Ston to Dubrovnik took less than an hour; we found the house Margo and Gregory had discovered for us all, down a pedestrian alley off of a busy street, then up some stairs and through a gate that led to a beautiful garden and large house.  They rented an apartment on the first floor, and ours was on the third floor, the top of the house.  It was perfect—neat and cozy under the eaves, with lots of light.  And the air conditioning worked just fine.  Going back to the busy street and turning right took us to the old city in a 5 minute walk.  Going down to the pedestrian alley and turning right led to a beautiful park with large old pine trees and more steps leading down to the sea.

Dubrovnik—and especially the old city—is gorgeous.  We have been in a whole slew of medieval walled cities this year, and Dubrovnik’s is by far the most magnificent.  The white stone buildings, the red roofs, the siting right on the edge of the water.  It’s gorgeous.  We had dinner outside on a plaza—mediocre pasta with mussels, a good salad—and wandered through the streets before turning in for the night.

* * *

I woke up early the next morning—before anyone else—and decided to put on my sneakers and take a brisk walk before it got too hot.  I found myself pulled toward the old city again, which was blissfully quiet.  Dubrovnik is a popular stop for cruise ships, and by midday the old city teems with tourists, buskers, vendors.  I found a farmer’s market in the center and bought sweet strawberries, blackberries, apricots and fresh flowers.  I picked up staples at the market on my way home, and got back to find everyone waking up and hungry for breakfast.

We decided to bite the bullet and explore the old city for an hour or two, before the heat went from oppressive to deadly.  C.C. was on a quest to find some knight and mythical creature figurines for her castle.  It seemed like a reasonable quest, given that we were in a medieval walled city.  We had no luck.  We asked a shopkeeper if he knew of any place that might sell them.  He shrugged and told us that Dubrovnik had had a largely peaceful history, so no knights. An hour of exploring was my limit—the streets were becoming more and more crowded with cruisers.  It’s beautiful, but the souvenir shops dominate, all selling variations on the same striped sailor shirts, red and white checked soccer jerseys, coral jewelry.  I needed to get away from the throngs.

We spent the afternoon at the swimming area closest to our house, a cove with a ladder going right down from the rocks into the sea.  A water polo court is set up a little way out.  Men play cards under a shady awning and drink beer or coke.  C.C. asked if she could join the water polo team and Alec told her she would have to be able to swim a kilometer in order to join.  “How far is that?” she asked.  “About 20 lenghts of this court,” he answered.  And off she swam, her efficient little dog paddle back-and-forthing for 20 whole lengths without stopping.  Pretty impressive.

* * *

We had decided to babysit for each other on the next two nights, and Wednesday was our night to go out.  Alec and I drove to Lapad, a neighborhood to the west of Dubrovnik, parked, and took a long walk on a trail edging the water.  Then we returned to the old city to check out an exhibition of war photographs that is reputed to be successful because the Serbs complain that it is too pro-Croat while the Croats maintain that it is too pro-Serb.  The images are haunting; it’s hard to believe, walking around now, that the country was ravaged by war only 20 years ago.  I had to leave before taking it all in—it was just too much.

We had dinner at a restaurant called Proto, which we had seen written up in the New York Times.  Despite the decent review, I kept my expectations low.  The setting was beautiful—a lovely terrace on the second floor, with a view of the lit up buildings and rooftops.  We took a risk and tried something called Adriatic scampi as a starter—a cold salad of shrimp, wild rice, melon, and avocado enrobed in a creamy dill dressing.  Although the dressing was a bit too ample for me, it was quite tasty.  We then shared a grilled scorpion fish and a dish of shrimp and tomato with polenta.  Both were solidly good, if not spectacular.  I will not miss Croatian food.

* * *

The old city of Dubrovnik is enclosed by a truly spectacular wall.  At two different points you can climb up a set of stairs to get to the top of it—a height of about 6 meters—and find a path that takes you around the whole city—about a mile and a quarter in total. We got up early on Thursday morning in the hope of getting there by about 8 am, when it opens. The kids protested, but we forced them to come with us.  Although they kept up the whining as we walked—too hot!  When will it ever end?!—we managed to enjoy ourselves.  The wall provides impressive views of the old city and the new city beyond.  Some of the rooftops are bright orange, others more timeworn; the orange ones were destroyed in the war and rebuilt recently.  There are a lot of orange roofs.

There was nothing to do but swim again in the afternoon, to get cool, so swim we did.