Adriatic Pearl

By Andrew Purvis/Dubrovnik

The first view most of the world had of Dubrovnik was of its red-tiled roofs disappearing behind clouds of black smoke during shelling by Serb and Montenegrin artillery in the fall of 1991. The threat to this walled medieval city on the Dalmatian coast, with its Renaissance palaces, Titian masterpieces and lemon-scented cloisters, brought home the pointlessness and savagery of the Balkan wars. Carla del Ponte, chief prosecutor at the International War Crimes Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, recalls being horrified by the attack. "I could not believe," she says, "that someone--anyone--could have fired a single shot or shell or mortar anywhere in its vicinity."

If she went back now, Del Ponte might have a hard time believing that anybody did shoot. Not only has the Croatian city survived the bombardment, but it has been repaired so meticulously that the only visible reminder of those terrible months is a patchwork of bright orange tiles where faded roofing splintered by the shelling has been replaced. Residents have repainted their homes, filled the bullet holes in their walls and paved over craters in the streets. Walk down the Stradun, Dubrovnik's polished-limestone pedestrian thoroughfare lined with open-air cafes and designer shops, and you wouldn't know that only a few years ago it was covered by the fog of war. "We have arisen from the ashes," says Maja Milovcic of the Dubrovnik Tourist Board.

That's great news for tourists as well as locals. In the prewar years, Dubrovnik was known to the European cognoscenti as a low-cost alternative to the ritzy Riviera. Now its charms are fast becoming an open secret. Flights arrive almost daily from Madrid, Paris, Rome and Vienna, together with budget services from Bratislava, London Gatwick and Dublin. In all, more than 320,000 foreigners holidayed in Dubrovnik (pop. 37,000) last year, up from 250,000 in 2002. "Dubrovnik is a jewel," says Ed Serotta, a Vienna-based historian and frequent visitor. He recommends a stroll on the 11/4-mile medieval wall encircling the city; on one side is a bird's-eye view of white stone architectural treasures and on the other a panorama of unspoiled coastline and open sea. "It will make your jaw drop," Serotta says.

Dubrovnik has had that effect on visitors for more than a millennium. Byzantine Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus wrote of "the city ... on the cliffs" to his son in the 10th century. The poet Lord Byron called it "the Pearl of the Adriatic" in the early 19th century. In the 1930s the British King Edward and Wallis Simpson sunbathed naked on a nearby island. (The current crop of celebrities drawn to the city includes Steven Spielberg, Sharon Stone and John Malkovich.)

Whether or not you're famous, Dubrovnik promises fine swimming in sheltered coves, sweet shellfish and the quiet pleasures of nearby islands. On Lopud and Sipan, picnickers stroll side by side with amateur archaeologists looking for Greek and Roman ruins. On Lokrum, a pine-covered outcropping that faces the old town, peacocks strut among the broken walls of an abandoned monastery and bathers lounge in rock pools warmed by the Mediterranean sun. But perhaps the best moments are at the end of the day, as the sun sets behind the roofs of the old town and an evening meal of fresh fish and white wine beckons. Let the glitterati have their St.-Tropez. Dubrovnik does quite nicely indeed.