Thomas Breathnach has double the fun exploring the hidden gems of Croatia and Montenegro…

Seven years young, she’s Miss Independent. Ever since going solo from Serbia in 2006, Montenegro, one of the world’s newest nations, has emerged as the must-visit gem of the Balkan bijoux box. Neighbour-to-the-north Croatia, meanwhile, has long been dazzling travellers as an ex-Yugo utopia for yachting and home to the Dalmatian delight of Dubrovnik. Nowadays, Irish sun-seekers can experience two-centre breaks to both nations so I took flight with Concorde Travel to the Adriatic, to discover some hidden jewels along its Slavic slipstream.

My journey kicked off in Montenegro’s Budva Riviera: a 35km strip of jagged inlets, secret beaches and crane-topped resorts, strung along the shores of the Adriatic. Budva’s fiesta vibe may have earned it the soubriquet as the Miami of Montenegro but first impressions lend it more the feel of Moscow-on-Sea. The town has long been a hotspot for Soviet tourists and checking into my hotel, it wasn’t long before I was swarmed by rotund Russian ladies, all garbed in an explosion of Hyacinth Bucket florals. Slovenska Plaza was my base: an expansive, Greek style complex just a pebble’s throw from Budva’s shingle strand. Outside, backyard views of mountains and bougainvillea; inside, a pretty-plush-for-a-three-star modernist blend of black and red.

Just a short stroll away, Budva’s old town is a wanderlust wonderland of labyrinthine laneways. Captivating Orthodox churches stand alongside pop-up boutiques, where sullen shop owners peer outside doorways to assail potential sarong-seekers. Further along a surf-splashed cliff trail lay Mogren beach – two hidden sandy coves connected by a Crusoe-esque cave tunnel: it’s a true pirate paradise.

 

Beyond Budva lies the UNESCO town and Montenegrin trump card of Kotor, best viewed from the 1350 step-high, St. John’s fortress. An even magnificent vista awaited, however, via Lovcen mountain pass – a dizzying, 25 hairpin serpentine road, which lofted me into the skies like the Conor Pass meets a Scalextric track. Halting for cloudbursts, grazing mountain cattle and oncoming tour coaches, I eventually reached the summit, double-checking my handbrake before emerging to inhale the panorama. Beneath me, lush mountain meadows cascaded into Europe’s southernmost fjord, where bolts of sun blitzed its waters opal. This was a pristine landscape which could even compare to the wilds of western Norway (and at about half the cost, at that).

High up from the market bustle of Kotor, I found myself in a Montenegrin mountain kingdom – a lone tourist meandering  through farming hamlets of fairytale folk architecture and forlorn fishing villages along the banks of Lake Skodor. The pace of life was mesmerizingly relaxing and almost nostalgic: a wedding cavalcade of honking, clapped-out motors which passed could well have been a scene from Ireland in the 80’s.This region is best known for its production of cured ham and cheeses and in Bukovicu, a hole-in-the-wall eatery (slash sitting room) in Njegusi, I devoured a serving of both specialties with a basket of fresh bread for €7 (with a complimentary shot of local brandy, if you’re not behind the wheel).

Midweek into my Slavic sojourn and it was a case of check-out Monty, check-in Croatia. Across the border, litter free streets, excellent roads, and high-end beach homes gave the sense of an affluent airbrush to the E.U.’s newest member state. Along a Cote D’Azur coastline, my transfer swerved through a magnificent cliff-face roadway and ascending a raised hillbrow, Dubrovnik, “Pearl of the Adriatic”, plunged beneath me”. Gulp.

Entering via Pile gate and the main thoroughfare of Stradan, Dubrovnik’s old town is truly a magical showcase of medieval magnificence. Despite the summer masses, it was still easy to grab a coffee here or a gelato there and eke a rooftop terrace to bask, aside a background canvas of terracotta and turquoise. Unlike bargain town Budva, Dubrovnik ain’t cheap but dining outside of the city walls can save you a few Kuna while winning you some great views (try Restaurant Orhan on Od Tabakarije for its black risotto and mussels).

I was staying in Hotel Neptun, which sits on a panoramic crag of the Lapad peninsula, 5kms from the old town. Although not ‘downtown’, Neptun lies along Setaliste Meda i Nika Pucica, a beautiful coastal promenade harbouring about a dozen hidden rock pools. I soon found my own sheltered haven, overlooking a crystal bay complete with moored galleon. Snorkelling into the blue, it seemed I didn’t have to wander far to find that dream Croatian beach after all.

I ended my week driving north of Dubrovnik to Croatia’s wine region, and the very day-tripable, Peljesac peninsula. Ston was the first pitstop, a postcard Adriatic village known for its oysters and dramatic hilltop ruins. At nearby Milos Winery, heir to 500 years of family viticulture, Ivan Milos, treated me to some ruby servings of Plavac Mali, the original ancestral grape of California’s Zinfandel. Further along at Dingac, I was tipped off to the boutique Vicelic winery, discovered via a secret tunnel into the peninsula’s west face. Sitting upon a hammock overlooking its cliff-hanging vineyards, this was perhaps my true highlight of Croatia. I might have had an afternoon snorkle-date with a cove on the island of Korcula, but after unearthing this gem, I was going no further.

Driving back to Dubrovnik that night, I hopscotched inland along the Bosnian coastline, the world’s shortest at just 10kms as the stork flies. Not long after leaving the tiny port of Neum, I found myself in Medjugorje country where statues of the Virgin Mary dotted a mountain valley wilderness, seldom heralded in travel diaries. Stopping along the hills for a quick leg-stretch, a silver-haired woman, corralling her goats in a pasture stopped me to get her photo taken gasping at the result. “Don’t worry, I won’t tag you…”.

Effigies of Mary soon turned to minarets as I approached the largely Islamic town of Stolac, where gents gathered for evening coffees and joie-de-vie teenagers congregated along its streets. As the night fell, my Dalmatian detour returned me to the Trebinje border station, albeit with one awaiting twist.

“Come with me!” beckoned a Bosnian border official, as I stopped in the black of night for a passport check. Abandoning the sanctuary of my rent-a-car I was led towards the station, where inside, a group of officials were necking back beers while franking the occasional form. This was casual Friday, Bosnian style. “You drive him back to Croatian border?”, a superior asked me, pointing to a lanky figured colleague in the corner, cracking a hopeful smile. “Oh Sure” I replied with a sigh, relieved that an inadvertent Schengen breach hadn’t landed me in a diplomatic crisis. “Hop right in!”.

As I cruised off into the Dubrovnik distance accompanied by PC-Popovic and FM-Balalaika, my stay in this culture-rich pocket of Europe had simply ended with a longing to return. From the national constabulary to local goat-herders, it also seemed like I’d broken down a few borders in my path. And that’s what a good holiday is all about.

 

The need to know

Getting there

Thomas travelled to Croatia & Montenegro with Concorde Travel (01 7759300; concordetravel.ie) who fly to Dubrovnik from Dublin, Cork, Shannon and Knock Ireland West. A seven-night package to the area starts from €399pps (self catering at Dubrovnik’s Antuninska appartments), while a twin destination week (four nights B&B in Hotel Slovenska Plaza and three nights in Hotel Neptun) costs from €899. Though

For more, see croatia.hr and visit-montenegro.com

Irish Independent, August 10, 2013