Korcula - the view from our homestay

The biggest danger of travelling through the Balkans is that you’ll run out of time; there’s just so much to see. Perhaps those who pass through the region as part of an open-ended ‘Grand Tour’ are able to while away the days in one place without a car; we were not so fortunate. Our flight home from Dubrovnik was fast approaching, and having arrived in Split we had to decide how we would make our way down the Adriatic coast. We had two choices: the 4 hour bus ride or a ride on the giant ferries that work this picturesque shoreline. Having spent much of the last two weeks on buses, the boat was always going to win.

Korcula

Our ferry arrived in Korcula in the early afternoon, and we soon learned that the boat to Dubrovnik would leave the following lunchtime. That gave us two half days to explore this tiny old city. Accommodation has never been hard to find in this part of the world. When I last passed through Yugoslavia 22 years ago I remember the crowds of ladies standing by the stations offering their rooms, and this tradition lives on. We were soon settled in a homely room overlooking the old city thanks to a cheery lady who saw us resting outside her house, and having gratefully dumped our rucksacks we were off to explore.

The roofs of Korcula from the tower at the Marco Polo museum

Korcula was once an important Venetian city and the influence of its former rulers is evident wherever you look. You can find the Venetian coat of arms on the town’s important buildings, and town makes a big deal of its links with Marco Polo. You can visit his house and see a small museum that shows the details of his famous voyages, and needless to say you can also buy any manner of Marco Polo related nautical memorabilia.

The narrow lanes of Korcula town

It’s easy to consider Korcula as a mini Dubrovnik, and indeed it is similarly pretty with a sea of read roofs and a prominent city wall, although not one that provides a full walking circuit in this case. Unlike Dubrovnik where the city rises up from the central street, the main square in the heart of Korcula town is actually the highest point, meaning Korcula is never likely to suffer the dramatic flooding for which Dubrovnik is renowned.

Looking out toward the Croatian mainland

We circled the walls many times, and at one point while staring out to sea I caught a glimpse of a dolphin, no more than 20 metres from the shore and surfacing for a brief moment. Then it was gone, and despite the two of us sitting patiently on the wall and staring intently for another sighting, no more dolphins were willing to make an appearance for us.

Looking for dolphins

The west end of Korcula town

While the town of Korcula is tiny, there are ample opportunities to walk around the coastline away from the town walls. A walk along the west end of the town reveals beautiful views of the narrow channel between the island and the Croatian mainland, while to the east are the rocky beaches that are filled with sun worshippers from the main hotels that are found nearby. There is a small hilltop to the west of the town, no more than a 10 minute walk up from the centre yet offering very nice views back over the red roofs.

The town of Korcula at dusk

The restaurants of Korcula offered much the same fare, although the local dishes did tempt us and provided a welcome relief after two weeks of trying (mostly in vain) for something other than pizza and kebabs.

In the end we were very pleased to have taken the long way to Dubrovnik, even though we only stayed in Korcula for one night. It was enough to provide us with a happy memory of staying on a Croatian island, and we can now recommend it as a very worthy place to stop on a trip through this part of the world.

A Korculan speciality (it was delicious but I can't provide any more specific info)

An unplanned night on the Croatian island of Korcula is a post from: 501 Places

Looking out over the mass of tiled roofs from the famous city walls it’s hard to believe the traumas that the city of Dubrovnik and its residents has been through in the last 20 years. The near perfect uniformity of the earthy red colour hints at a world recently restored, yet the evidence of a seven month siege and a mortar pounding from land and sea are increasingly hard to find.

For a long time now Dubrovnik has been the main draw of many a Mediterranean cruise. The narrow steep lanes leading off the central street are home not only to some of the region’s finest buildings but also to tens of thousands of tourists, spilling each morning from the giant cruise ships that dock nearby. It is one of the world’s most photogenic cities and around each corner is another quaint alley, a beautiful church or an old wooden door that hints at a mysterious and colourful past.

Dubrovnik from the city walls

Most visitors appear to stay on or very near to the main street running through the heart of the city. Those who do want to explore will inevitably venture onto the wall (around 4,000 had on the day we visited, according to the cheery man who greeted us and relieved us of our €10 each to access the walls). I have to admit to having second thoughts for a moment at paying such a high price, before deciding that I shouldn’t be such a skinflint and that it was one of those things that just had to be done.

Dubrovnik from the city walls

And the views from the walls are admittedly impressive. The full circuit takes around an hour to complete at a leisurely pace and offers many perspectives on the city, especially when viewed in the late evening light (we arrived at 5pm). The views from the new cable car are supposed to be even more impressive – it runs up the side of the nearby hill and as I scoured the slope I reckoned we could scramble up there in well under an hour. Sadly our short time in the city prevented us from making the climb ourselves to check out the view.

The city wall, Dubrovnik

Dubrovnik does appear to have a daily high and low tide of humanity. From around 9.30am, the time when the cruise ship passengers have enjoyed their buffet breakfasts and followed their flag-bearing guides into the city, the streets become awash with eager visitors from around the world. Cameras shield the faces of the tourists as they half listen to the descriptions of this old city, oozing with fantastic legends of trade, war and intrigue. The cafes are chock full of those same people resting their legs while admiring the views that greet the visitor wherever they look. Yet at around 6pm the city exhales and the swarms retreat to their floating hotels, leaving the bars and cafes to the small yet still substantial number of tourists who have filled Dubrovnik’s many land-based hostelries.

Dubrovnik's main thoroughfare, Stradun

The ghost of Dubrovnik past

Yet it’s not hard to find signs of the 1991 shelling if you look around. Immediately below the city walls there are still areas of rubble where buildings were destroyed or damaged beyond repair, and where the international restoration work did not reach.

Among the ruins of the 1991 shelling

The graphic below shows the extent of the attacks, each black mark signifying the location of a mortar. Looking at this plan it becomes clear that not only were many of the buildings affected by the war, but that every Dobrovnik resident would have lived through their own hell at that time. For them the masses of tourists now shuffling through their city must be a blessed relief when set against the very recent past that they have endured.

Map showing the extent of the shelling of Dubrovnik in 1991-1992 (click to enlarge)

For those with an interest in the Yugoslav conflict or in world-class photography there is an exhibition that I would highly recommend while visiting Dubrovnik. The War Photo Limited is a powerful and emotive collection of some of the world’s best war photography. The images on show portray the brutality, the futility and the tragedy of conflicts all over the world. Yet while the professionals behind the cameras have gone to extraordinary lengths to show the human dimension of these inhumanities, I couldn’t help but think too of the bravery and single-mindedness of these photographers to capture these uncompromising images, and wonder about the emotional cost that they had borne for bringing these pictures to the world’s attention.

Dubrovnik: from war zone to tourist hotspot is a post from: 501 Places