It's better than Venice. There, I said it.
The comedy factor of waking up in a mock Tudor velvet lined hotel room had worn off by day 2 and especially so given the grappa we had enjoyed the night before I could feel was tapping me on the shoulder reminding me that I had a headache. The three of us assembled to discuss plans for the day and forced monosyllabic mumbles in each other's direction culminating in a conclusion to do an organized tour. We packed up the car as we were leaving for Dubrovnik after lunch and made our way down the hill into town to meet our guide.
Daniella was late and apologised endlessly about the traffic which was understandable because, and this now goes without saying, it was raining. I wondered momentarily if you could now walk from London to New York City given there's no way there could be any water left in the Atlantic. It was all in Eastern Europe making puddles in my footsteps. Umbrellas firmly in hand, we began to walk. Daniella seemed less keen on telling us about the Yugosslav wars and more about the architecture of the buildings which became a difficult situation to judge; we couldn't ask too many questions about the siege in case it was too tough for her to talk about, but then again she was a tour guide. In Classic British style, we mumbled a few things about Milosevic and looked happy when we got a close enough answer. Daniella was perfectly lovely but the turning point really came when we passed by a rival tour group of Chinese only to overhear their guide telling some amusing anecdote about Muslim women wearing larger and larger headscarves to show their apparent wealth much like ladies at Ascot wearing larger and larger hats until nobody at all can see the horses. It was a mild joke at best but she had the crowd in stitches and the three of us knew we had made a mistake not going for mildly amusing joke telling guide. We continued for a little longer but the die was cast and we made excuses of needing to get to Dubrovnik before sundown.
The balance in the group is a good one. Will is the voice of reason so that tempers any over-optimism and over-planning that might and does come from my corner of the ring. Nick is the realist of the group shall we say, and the one that takes the most convincing, but once you've mastered the skill of misrepresentation, I can usually get him to do anything before he's believes it to be a bad idea. Driving to Dubrovnik we took the longer route and better road in order to chance our luck with good traffic. Very unNick. The main points of interest on the drive were that our roadside destination lunch spot served the most delicious lamb that we could see being slow roasted from outside; the contraption rotating the meat being powered by a watermill - very renewable energy I thought. Also of interest is that Dubronvik appears to be in a part of Croatia completely separate from the rest of the country and fully enclosed by Bosnia meaning that you become very good at showing your passport over a 3 / 4 mile stretch. Out of Bosnia into Croatia back into Bosnia and back again into Croatia - I'm just tired thinking about it.
Leaving me in charge of accommodation meant that we had to try and maintain the Air BnB theme if possible and incredibly a luxury villa for 5 people had cliff jumped off the page when I was looking for a place to stay. Sure enough, our host Ivan complete with Keira Knightly lookalike maid was waiting for us to walk us through our Dalmatian Palace for the next 3 days and we were not disappointed. Pool, jacuzzi, sauna and terraces, this place was on a different planet to our experience in Sarajevo. There was also some sun in the sky. Propelled by improved meteorology and lavish living quarters we changed faster than runway models and headed down into town. Ivan had recommended Locanda Pescaria and beelined for a table. I had it on very good authority that the only dish in town was Squid Ink Risotto and so it was with some disappointment that the waiter announced they did not serve such a dish. This would not be the end of my mission for it.
After dinner we walked around the Old Town which really felt like Venice to me and, dare I say it, is even more charming. High walls of stone, stone cobbled streets, street musicians and music in every bar, the Old Town was stunning and quickly ranks as one of the more breathtaking places I have been. We noticed a screen showing tennis in a bar and with a few Croatians still in the US Open felt obliged to go and show some nationalistic support. Oddly enough, Judy Murray was in there watching too which was possible given her son's exit from the tournament. It was such a striking resemblance we decided we had to pry her with testing questions such as 'Are you Judy Murray?'. She wasn't but what viewing it would have made especially given Murray's concern why Cilic is still playing despite an alleged drugs test fail. Anyway, the Croat won and we all celebrated, even Judy.