Because of our ridiculously early 4am scheduled check-in we stayed last night at the Hampton by Hilton hotel directly opposite Liverpool airport. We spent the evening watching the European Cup Final eating terrible food in their pretend "restaurant", then going to sleep after watching the Ten o'clock News. No news was good news about the dust cloud but it could all change over night.

All the signs were positive as we checked-in bright and early and were sat airside waiting for the shops to open. The cafe opened first at 4:30am followed by the shops half an hour later. After a coffee and croissant we distracted ourselves with some retail therapy and bought ourselves a pair of shoes each which is so unlike me.

I hate spending money on shoes but these were pretty cool, called Sanuk (a Thai word for good times) and were more like beach slippers. I liked them so much I put my old shoes in the box and walked out the store in my new funky shoes. I hadn't done that since I was a child!

With our lucky champagne bought it was time to make our way over to the gate where we queued to get on board. Three people (that's all) had paid the extra for Easy Jet's Speedy Boarding. They obviously weren't aware that we all just pile into a bus to be transfer to the plane and then it's a free for all. Lets just say they weren't amused.

Aided by three diazepams Julie appeared to be quite calm, even appearing to be excited and pleased when we got on board quite early and got to our favourite seats position just behind the wing. We settled down for take off which did start her nerves jangling.

Some ten minutes later, up above the clouds but before the seat belt sign had been switched off, there was an almighty shudder. "Oh My God!" screamed Julie.

Julie was beyond recovery however as she suffered internal aftershocks all the way to Dubrovnik.

Shortly after two hours we descended down the Croatian coast. The view out the window of the many islands that littered the Adriatic was wonderful.

As soon as we landed Julie couldn't wait to get off. It had been quite a stressful flight for her this time.

With our luggage collected we were met outside the arrival gate by our transfer holding up a card with the mis-spelt Mr Colon Owem. "Aha, that'll be us"

"My name is Petar. Welcome to Croatia. " he said in a perfect bond villain accent "How was flight?"
"It was OK" I said not wanting to get into a conversation about the trauma.

We got into his air-conditioned 4x4 and he drove us the 19km up the coast. There was some glorious scenery along the way. "Here, Croatia is no more than some hundred metres wide!" he said pointing to the hills that separated here from Bosnia & Herzegovina. He talked a little about the troubles they had in the early 1990s. "The war was a difficult time" he said explaining when Yugoslavia descended into civil war and how Dubrovnik was caught right in the middle of it. "I am a Croat and proud" he continued.

A short distance from the UNESCO World Heritage city we stopped at a popular vantage point.

It was a short climb up the hillside and the view from the top was absolutely breathtaking. Nestled below me between the sea and the mountains was the picture perfect view of the Pearl of the Adriatic, a name given to Dubrovnik by the infamous Lord Byron.

Petar dropped us off outside the old city walls at Ploce Gate. He couldn't take us any further because inside the Old Town walls was (mostly) a pedestrianised zone. We wheeled our suitcases over the wooden drawbridge and into the ancient city of Ragusa as it was once called.

Even the crude method of opening the front down by pulling on a wire just added to its rustic charm.

We were starving hungry and after a short interlude we instinctively walked the two corners away to Gundulic Square. Pizzeria Castro was the first restaurant we saw, with its tables spilling out into the square. We hoped our landlady didn't see us as we weren't in the mood for pizza.

There was a small market down one side of the square. The fruit & veg stalls were packing up for the day but other stalls were still busy selling embroidery and lace to a steady stream of elderly tourists lured here by the hypnotic aroma of the lavender water also on offer.

There were a plenty of cafes and restaurants around the suare and we picked one called Ark A because it promoted itself as having vegetarian food.

She was being incredibly adventurous and had ordered the Grilled Squid.

This challenging mound of tentacles and sacks arrived and she began to have second thoughts. She took a deep breath and impaled a piece on her fork, tentatively put it in her mouth and began to chew.

With a look of surprise on her face she said "Mmm, it's quite tasty". But as time passed however she became less enthusiastic. "Uh, I'm not too sure about the texture."

As the sea critters were cooling down they were becoming more rubbery. Each bite took longer to chew and swallowing increasingly difficult until she finally gave up.

Hidden from view for the most part was its famed white stone pavers, polished like marble by the constant flow of tourist who also unfortunately submerged it. Its beauty trampled under foot. I wasn't too upset however as I knew we had four nights here and once the cruise ship crowd and hotel hordes returned to their base we would have the street to ourselves.

It was mostly lined with cafes and shops to fulfil the tourists insatiable appetite for tat. We ourselves did step inside one to satisfy my own tat needs. I just had to buy a large Croatian flag for my burgeoning collection.

We spent most of the time glancing up the many side streets that branched out from the Stradun.

The Gaffe was waiting for us just a few steps away from Stradun down Miha Pracata street. We sat out the bad weather having a few jars of a local pivo (beer) called Ožujsko. Every now and then we would pop our heads out to check if it was still raining, which it was, so another round was ordered.

We noticed that the pub was showing football tonight which was a must for us to watch. It was such a coincidence that tonight's game on the TV was Croatia v Wales! It was hundreds of miles away near Zagreb but we just had to come back to the Gaffe later and support our country. It was a question of duty and honour.

It had the same smooth white stone pavers as the main street and with a fresh dousing of rain it certainly had the appearance of being slippery to the point of being lethal.

"This is a hard floor. One slip and you could easily split your kipper" we laughed, almost falling over in the process.

We were on the look out for another bar but this one was a little different. It was located outside the city walls literally on the rocks reached through a small door.

I remember thinking to myself "What's the point of a huge defensive wall if you've got a little door through it?!"

We stood for a while looking out over the Adriatic before sighing heavily hoping for better weather tomorrow.

We decided to head back to the apartment for a siesta.

Aided by a little Berlitz pop-up map we followed the wall eastwards then cut inside walking past the Church of St. Ignatius.

The square in which it stood didn't feel like part of Dubrovnik at all. The gravelled surface, the half painted terracotta houses and the Baroque Church all accumulated into quite an Italian vibe.

It's not surprisingly as the Republic of Ragusa was under Venetian rule or influence for much of its history.

After three solid hours of deep sleeping we woke up late for the football! Duty called so we jumped out of bed and quickly made our way to the Gaffe, stopping along the way to pay our landlady the €220 balance.

The first half was almost half way through by the time we arrived but the score was still 0-0. We hadn't missed much.

The Gaffe wasn't too busy. We even got ourselves a table in the corner with a decent view of one of their televisions. The game ebbed and flowed then out of nowhere Wales scored!

How we clapped and cheered and everyone in the bar turned to look at us.

Our thoughts turned to food at half time. The traditional Irish bar menu was a real home from home for us and we ordered a chip butty and hummus for me and Tandoori Chicken with chips for Julie. Perfect food to accompany lager.

The second half descended into a terrible game of football where both sides made five substitutions each completely unsettling the dynamics of the game. After Croatia scored a second goal we decided to leave

Our first port of call, if you pardon the pun, was the Old Port.

The city was beautifully illuminated especially down here at the dock with the subtle lighting reflecting in the rippling water. We walked along the quayside arm in arm soaking up the romantic atmosphere.

We left the harbour through a gateway that lead us back towards the Stradun.

As we passed the Sponza Palace we heard a sudden round of applause. Curious to find out more we stepped inside.

As we left we noticed a small room to the right. It was the Memorial Room to the Defenders of Dubrovnik.

Its walls were filled with tragic black & white photographs of local victims of the war. Most were young men who died defending Dubrovnik during a siege that happened in 1991-92.

It was so sad to see also images of the city burning after being shelled from Serbian artillery.

It was crazy to think how this could have happened. Not specifically the bombing of such a treasure but how Yugoslavia fell apart to such devastating effect.

Reading about its history perhaps it was a powder keg, a country waiting to blow up.

Yugoslavia was only formed in 1918 after the First World War by the break-up of the losing Austrian-Hungarian Habsburg empire bringing together the southern Slavic nations into one kingdom. After the Second World War it became a communist country and appeared to flourish as an united country under the leadership of Marshall Tito but beneath the veneer the tension between the many ethnic parts was simmering.

In 1990 with all of Eastern Europe embracing democracy it was Slovenia who first to broke away and after a ten days of conflict quickly reached an agreement for their independence. Unfortunately Croatia's transition to independence was not as smooth. Serbian communities within the Croatian borders began to resist the separation and decided to take up arms to protect themselves. It was the beginning of the end as four years of fierce fighting shattered Yugoslavia.

Before that however we stopped for a nightcap at the Hard Jazz Caffe Troubadour on the corner of Buniceva square, right behind the Cathedral. This was a far more civilised mature scene than the juvenile delinquents of Oliver Twist's.

We were a little short of cash but we were so near our apartment that I was able to pop back to our room pick up some Kunas and was back at our table where I'd left Julie before our drinks were brought to our table.

We sat outside in the balmy evening air being entertained by a three piece band consisting of a pianist, a drummer and the cool cat singer who also played the double bass.