Dubrovnik, Croatia
Dubrovnik was as mystically dreamlike as I imagined it would be. The city walls of the Grad—Old City—seduce you into thinking you’re stepping into a medieval village from a fable where pirates roam the seas outside and every alley holds a secret. A faint pitter-patter of drying laundry echoing off the narrow walls and cascading, vibrant flower boxes at high windows drew me in at nearly every crook. The peace I’d find in those moments were fleeting, however. This is Dubrovnik, of course, the pearl of the Adriatic and the set for many of the most famous Game of Thrones scenes. At the height of day, we’d see more GOT-obsessed cruiser fanboys and selfie sticks than centuries-old churches and weathered flagstones. Cruises really are the bane of slow travel. Even so, the ashen stones of Dubrovnik are undoubtedly otherworldly.
The most cliché, yet perhaps most stunning, activity we did in Dubrovnik was walking the city walls. Stretching nearly two kilometers in length, the walls neatly encircle the city in 1.5-6 meters of stone and tower 25 meters above ground level in some places. The wall has maintained its loosely circular shape since the 14th century, during the “Golden Age of Dubrovnik,” and the entire length is littered with towers, battalions, and fortresses—remnants of more turbulent days.
Like thieves planning their escape, Ari and I had methodically plotted each one of our moves when it came to visiting the most prominent tourist attraction in Dubrovnik. We considered arriving just after sunrise, but had witnessed the day before a conga line of camera-toting tourists already up there at 8:05—five minutes after opening—and figured that wouldn’t be a smart move. We clambered up to the southern entrance of the wall an hour and fifteen minutes prior to sunset. The southern entrance was less trafficked than the one near Pile gate and the cruise ships depart precisely before dinnertime (can’t dare to miss the all-you-can-eat buffet!), leaving a wake of snapped selfie sticks and disheveled waiters and shop owners. Our plotting yielded our desired results: 75 minutes of uninterrupted drooling time while we circumnavigated the city.
Pacing ourselves proved to be the hardest task of all. Every meter of the city wall’s undulating length seemed to boast the most stunning view of Dubrovnik. I no longer wondered why photos of Croatia’s capital are always taken from above—here was proof. A palette of ginger, auburn, and silver dappled the canvas of buildings in stunning effect with the sea as a backdrop. The fresher shades of orange tiles illustrated the wounds of Croatia’s War of Independence in the nineties; over 55% of buildings were damaged in the latest Siege of Dubrovnik. The uniformity of colors in contrast with the variation widths, shapes, and heights of the buildings was surprisingly harmonious for a place with such traumatic history. As if on cue, a wooden sailing ship glided past the seafront wall, inducing a lapse in our current time. This moment on the wall was only a taste of what was to come.
-Sofia
