Have Love Will Travel
Get me to the Taj Mahal

Wednesday 26th May 2010

But first, so that we could break into a large 200 kn note we headed over to Cafe Gradska Kavana on the corner of Luza Square. It was so pleasant sitting here watching our fellow early risers go about their business. It was great fun.

We even hooped with laughter when the smallest refuse truck in the world hummed its little battery powered engine around the corner.

Before leaving the square we popped into Pizzeria Castro to find our landlady and tell her that the toilet had blocked (it wasn't a pretty sight!) and there still wasn't a picture on the TV. She promised to sort it out.

We also took a closer look at the bronze statue that stood in its centre. It was of Ivan Gundulic, a famous Dubrovnik son and a 17th century poet whose greatest works were called "Tears of the Prodigal Son" (which sounds like a great prog rock album title) and "Osman". The latter being an epic tale of the mighty struggle between Europe and the Ottoman Empire.

When this statue was unveiled in 1893 it stirred up tension between Serbs and Croats.

After breakfast we headed over to the nearest beach which was only a short 10 minute walk from the apartment.

Leaving the walled city through Ploce gate we walked along Frana Supila street the short distance to Banje Beach. Given its location so near to the Old Town and also the glorious sunshine today the beach was surprisingly quiet. There must only have been five or six couples and a couple of kids, that's all.

The steps that lead us down to the sand were at the furthest end of the beach. As beaches go it wasn't the most attractive but its location was perfect with a great view of the Old Town's Eastern walls.

After half an hour of working up a sweat sitting still we decided to cool off in the sea which wasn't as easy as it sounds.

The nearer to the water we got the more pebbly it became, to the point of it becoming quite painful to walk on.

All that activity had made us thirsty so whilst Julie returned to our towels on the sand I walked up towards a bar called East West.

It was they who had white loungers and day beds on the beach. The bar area was very modern with sleek white furniture and wood laminate floors.

I suddenly felt under dressed as I squelched in like the creature from the blue lagoon in just my shorts, dripping wet and forming a puddle where I stood at the bar.

I think I took the staff by surprise, they certainly looked at me oddly as if to say "what the hell are you doing?"

It was called Nautika and was just outside Pile Gate to the left.

It's greatest claim to fame was a papal seal of approval when Pope John Paul II stopped here for lunch during his visit in 2003.

It's best feature was the location of its terrace overlooking the small bay flanked by the Lovrijenac Fortress high up on the rock and the Bokar tower embedded in the city walls.

It was a wonderful romantic location.

We had thought about having an evening meal here but the menu was quite expensive. The lunchtime choices were more reasonably priced.

Being the adventurous type I tried the cold cucumber soup for starters. I was rewarded with a bowl of a runnier version of Tzatziki with chunks of boiled egg white lurking in the depths. Despite being a really peculiar concept I actually enjoyed its refreshing taste.

My plain and simple tomato spaghetti that followed was absolutely delicious. Julie was also very pleased with her dish of grilled sea bass and veg, although with only one potato on the plate she felt a little short changed.

The water that pours out through its 16 ornate masks continues to be fine to drink.

Except for these carvings it was quite a plain structure but it was badly damaged during a great earthquake in 1667 and its decorative second level was damaged beyond repair.

We decided not to go inside the small St. Saviour's opting instead to have a look next door at the much larger Monastery.

A doorway crowned with the pieta scene of the Virgin Mary and the body of Christ was one of the few surviving features of the original 14th century monastery which was destroyed by the 1667 earthquake.

We entered through another door paying 20kn each to get inside.

As we walked in there was an old pharmacy with a collection of its renowned cream lotions in ceramic jars and glass bottles.

A local sculptor (from Bar in Montenegro)by the name Mihoje Brajkov created these fine carvings.

One of the faces was supposed to be a self-portrait.

"They're amazing" I enthused perhaps a little excessively.

In the centre of the cloister, overlooked by a small statue of St. Francis atop a fountain, there was a lovely garden. One that would have supplied medicinal herbs to the old pharmacy but now was just filled with ornamental plants.

We sat down for a while waiting for the gaggle to leave and the moment they did a wonderful calmness descended on us.

"Aaah, that's better" I whispered.

The quietness made such a difference to the experience.

The walls were decorated with several paintings. One that grabbed the attention was a picture of the city as it looked before the earthquake.

It was from an interesting view point painted as if it was from an elevated position out to sea. It was like a modern photograph taken from an aeroplane.

The hot air balloon wasn't invented so it must have relied on some vivid imagination to portray the city from such a perspective.

It would have been easier for the artists to paint from the natural high position of Mount Srd towering over the city.

Delaying our visit for an hour worked well as we had the place entirely to ourselves.

The cloisters, designed by Maso di Bartolomeo an architect from Florence, were impressively ornate, although perhaps not as interesting as the Franciscan cloisters.

We walked around the arcade and noticed a few troughs that were introduced to the monastery in the 19th century when Napoleon ended the Republic of Ragusa.

His army appropriated both Dominican and Franciscan monasteries.

One was for the famous Gundulic family, the other for the Lukarevic.

Our eyes being drawn to a stained glass window. It had been recently restored after they were destroyed in the war.

Unfortunately it was closed. The guide book did say it only opened in summer so clearly it was too early in the season.

On reaching the Stradun we sat down at one of the street cafes and wrote our postcards home. It's always difficult to know what to say in such as short space. I always go too informative trying to namedrop as many interesting sights as possible whereas Julie goes for headline catching humour.

We were sat in Cafe Celle on the last table and chairs Stradun, effectively right on Luza Square where we had a great view of the clock tower. We tried to work out the time but it wasn't easy. With only one big hand we could only guess it was something past six o'clock.

It used to fascinate me.

Anyway, moving on we went in search of the other hole-in-the-wall bar on the rocks. We had spotted it whilst on our little boat trip on Monday.

Down in the old port we made our way along the quayside where all the west facing benches were taken by people soaking up the last of today's sunshine.

We followed the quay around Tvrdava Sveti Ivana (St. John Fortress) to the breakwater known as the Porporela.

There wasn't a bench left for us to sit as they were all taken by couples settling down to watch the sunset over the Adriatic.

We carried on walking as far as we could but the path outside the city walls didn't go much further. Clambering around on the rocks was out of the question so we re-traced our steps back through the harbour

Following my trusty sense of direction (which often leads us out into the desert!) we slipped down a few side streets quickly ending up by the walls. Sooner or later we would surely come across another welcoming doorway that said "Best Drink with View" or something.

"Let's have a look down here" I said.

Julie must have thought I was a right pervert but she followed me nonetheless.

Thankfully, saving our blushes, it wasn't a naturist beach on the rocks but another pleasant bar.

The drinks were certainly cheaper than in Cafe Buža and whilst my Heineken beer was the same as the Heineken beer that I would drink anywhere the House White was absolutely lovely and at 20kn for 200ml we thought was exceptionally good value.

It was getting dark when we left and tubular lights had come on to guide us safely away from the edge.

It was time for supper. The Taj Mahal restaurant was a short distance from Gundulic square on Ulica Nikole Gucetica.

Hunger got the better of us and we ended up sharing a bowl of chips!

We returned to the Taj Mahal on time at 9pm where another couple were already waiting patiently outside. "We have a reservation for 9pm" I said to the waiter who acknowledged me but didn't say anything.

Ten minutes later a group of four arrived and were shown almost immediately to a table. I couldn't believe it. I was ready to leave and return to the Irish bar for some more chips but Julie calmed me down. Eventually the couple in front of us were seated on a small table outside in the street.

Of course I had to order the side dish with my name on it, the Owen-roasted peppers but they were served cold, straight from the refrigerator. That was OK but then the Aubergines alla Edina filled with a cream cheese mix was served at a really tepid temperature as if it hadn't been warmed through properly. Perhaps that's how it's supposed to be served? If it was, it didn't work.

Julie chose a dish they called "Half and Half" which wasn't rice and chips but turned out to be a veal kebab and a sausage made out of what Julie described as cheap beefburger meat.

We finished off with baklava for dessert or at least I did. Julie watched.