Zdravo! Welcome to a Balkan country with a lot going on, from the elegant 19th-century-flavored capital Zagreb to Split's ancient Roman palace to the medieval towns of the balmy Dalmatian coast, crowned by UNESCO World Heritage Site Dubrovnik.
The Zadar Archipelago is one of '5 of the World's Best Spots for Stand-up Paddleboarding'
HeretoTravel.com Few places in Europe are as wonderful for this activities as this more than a dozen sparsely populated or completely unpopulated little islands near the historic, picturesque Dalmatian-Coast city of Zadar, (four hours south of Dubrovnik), such as Dugi Otok, Ist, and Molat. Paddle the calm waters of the Adriatic Sea, including pristine coves, remote fishing villages, and mysterious sea caves. You can rent paddleboards and book tours with outfitters like ZadarSUP, and some like…
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Please answer if you can; he's leaving on the cruise in just a week. http://www.tripatini.com/forum/topics/eastern-med-cruise-tours
Also, for a first timer - what are the must see/do's for Dubrovnik and the Dalmation Coast? Also any funky/quirky/beautiful hotel recommendations?
I appreciate any advise. Thanks!
So whether the next IT places are in EE or not will be decided by the media but for this traveller, EE has always been my playground and the playground of many many others.
I used to ride motorcycle and have crossed almost all borders in ex Yugoslavia.
Hope this will help.
Delete Comment Anybody know if it's possible to cross borders easily among the ex-Yugo republics like from Serbia to Montenegro to Kosovo etc? I'd like to do the region on a motorcycle this summer.
Mljet – A Croatian Secret?
From among the thousands of Croatian islands Travel Writer Brendan Harding has found one all for himself where peace and tranquility reign supreme.
I have thought about this long and hard and finally I've decided to include you on a precious secret. But first I need you to promise me something. Promise me that you won't breathe a word to a living soul. Promise? Very well then, I trust you.
There is an elongated, pine-covered, hump of an island which rises sharply from the azure waters of the Adriatic Sea. The island is called Mljet. For the longest time it has been one of Croatia's best-kept secrets and continues to remain that way (or at least it did until now). The first time I saw it I was on-board a rumbling ferry as it ran South along the coast from Hvar towards Dubrovnik. I wasn't particularly interested in returning to Dubrovnik – as beautiful as the city is – but for some reason, now lost in the depths of time that is where I found myself.
Sitting on the ship's upper deck, shielding my eyes from the dazzling brilliance of the late afternoon sun as it sparkled like a million diamonds on the sea, I thought I saw something move out there in the blueness. I unearthed a pair of binoculars from the bowels of my rucksack and peered outwards. A German couple who had been sitting nearby rather forwardly asked if I had seen something interesting. I scanned the horizon again but saw nothing. "I thought I saw..." I started, but I wasn't sure, "...it was probably nothing," I admitted. The Germans, happy in a Teutonic sort of way with my answer returned to their card-game. And then, with a peripheral splash, I saw it once again. It was no more than a sleek, dark shape which had launched itself from the depths of the sea before returning in an instant back to where it had come from. My first dolphin! It was then I noticed the island looming large like a giant green battleship. "What's that island?" I asked the Germans. Between us we produced a map and found our bearings. "It appears to be Mljet," the girl German said. "Ja," it is Mljet her boyfriend agreed, "ach, but there is nothing there." Secretly I vowed to return.
After the ferry had docked in Dubrovnik I asked at the port if I could find a ferry to Mljet. "There is no ferry," I was told time and time again and walked dejected from the pier. Over a cold beer in a waterfront bar, I asked the barman how I could get to the island of Mljet. "Mljet," he said, as I waited for another negative response, "you take the Catamaran, 'Nona Ana', it leaves every morning at 10am, right outside here," he pointed towards a small hut by the pier.
Next morning I found a small sign with the words 'Catamaran Nona Ana' written in almost imperceptible letters beside a medium sized boat billowing clouds of black smoke as her engine idled in the hot Croatian Sun. I paid my fare and joined those already onboard. Women with silent, well-behaved children, nuns fingering rosary beads, men in business suits and other non-touristic looking types filled the small cabin as the catamaran hummed its way out of Dubrovnik harbour.
Ninety minutes later and the boat docked at the pier in the secluded bay of Polace. The people disembarked and disappeared into the life of the island. Here, unlike most other Croatian islands, there was no phalanx of black-clad grandmothers selling the use of their spare rooms to Australians, French, Germans and other young people with nothing on their minds but the pure pleasure of being young. This was an island for natives and the adventurous.
I didn't have to wander far to find a room. I entered the first bar I found and ordered a cold drink. "My name is Ivo," the barman said, "welcome to Mljet and to my humble establishment." And it was humble. But humble in a rustic, sensual way with the smell of things fishy and delicious slowly cooking on a stove somewhere in the rear. "Would you like a nice room?" he asked as he served my drink, "very cheap and the best view on the island." Ivo showed me the room. It was spacious and clean but Ivo was right, the view from the roof-top balcony was the stuff of dreams. The bay wrapped itself around the clear waters of the sea, embracing it like a lover. From the shore the hills rose in a swathe of dark green up towards a sky whose colour had yet to be mixed – even by the finest artist. There was no sound except the lapping of the ocean and the constant chirruping of the cicadas; no cars, no engines, nothing but serenity.
When I awoke from a long deserved rest the sun had sunk low in the sky. Already a small flotilla of yachts had moored in the bay, their ropes clanging gently against their masts as they bobbed in rhythm to the sea. The restaurant below me was filled with the gentle murmur of conversation as the boa owners enjoyed a pre-dinner drink. I dressed hurriedly to join them.
Soon I was in conversation with Croatians and Swedes, Russians and Spanish; a cultural melting-pot of conversation. As the wine flowed and the food came served on steaming plates – lobster, crab, squid, bowls of large blue mussels, wrasse and grouper – the sun sank in a candy-pink sky and the little-owls called and answered across the bay. The night had quietened the song of the cicadas and peace reigned as king.
I could tell you more; about the monastery which floated like a fairy-tale on the island of a shimmering blue inland lake. Or the bands of mongoose which roam the hills like bandits. Or the crystal clear waters which welcome the bones of weary travelers... but I won't. That is for you to discover. But I can tell you this, I never did see my dolphin, but perhaps that's for the next time...
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