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Croatia renewed

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Dubrovnik, Croatia

Over dinner I thumbed through “Dubrovnik in War,” a paperback I had bought at a nearby bookstore. Its images were of the devastation from the bloody civil war of 1991-92 -- buildings ablaze in the medieval walled city, roofs blown off, rubble-filled streets.

One photograph was of a house in flames on one of the narrow streets off the Stradun, the wide pedestrian way through Dubrovnik’s old city, or stari grad. With a start, I realized I was sitting in a restaurant on that street.

I showed my book to one of the staff, who pointed out the building, just across the street, but I saw no signs of damage. His restaurant, Proto, had also been hit, he said, closed for a decade and reopened 18 months ago.

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Smiling, he added, “It’s a new world.”

Indeed. Dubrovnik, where tourism collapsed because of the war, has patched itself up with the help of international aid and is back in the tourist business. Strolling the Stradun, with its sidewalk cafes and awning-shaded shops, it’s hard to summon up those TV images of months of shelling by the Serb-backed Yugoslav National Army.

But the tile roofs tell the story; 575 structures, almost 70% of the old city’s buildings, were hit. Their new tiles are bright red, contrasting with the old ocher-colored tiles. Underfoot, some of the Stradun’s limestone squares are telltale white. Holes in two walls of the Franciscan monastery are another reminder.

A few hotels still are down, including the 800-room Libertas, slated for demolition and rebuilding, and the Imperial, scheduled to reopen next year as the Imperial Hilton. The most popular of the 26 open hotels, especially those near the old town, are fully booked in July and August, so the Croatian National Tourist Office suggests reserving two months ahead -- or staying in inexpensive private accommodations, which abound. As I drove into Dubrovnik in mid-July, people held up signs that read, “Sobe. Zimmer. Camere. Rooms.”

Croatia, a nation of 4.5 million people in southeastern Europe, is a horseshoe-shaped country that consists of a narrow strip along the 1,100-mile coastline on the Adriatic Sea and a larger inland arm that includes Zagreb, the capital. The land in the middle of the horseshoe belongs to Bosnia and Herzegovina. Croatia also borders Hungary, Slovenia, and Serbia and Montenegro.

Most of Croatia’s visitors come from Germany and Britain, but more than 95,000 Americans made overnight visits from January through July, about 23,000 of them to Dubrovnik County. Tourism in Croatia is not yet back to the 1990 level, when 52.5 million visitors overnighted, 5.4 million in Dubrovnik County, but figures to date indicate that this year will easily surpass last.

The long trip from Prague

You can reach Croatia by air, by sea from Italy, by train or by car from neighboring countries. Flights from the United States connect through European gateways. I was first visiting Prague in the Czech Republic, so I chose an overnight train to Split, 95 miles north of Dubrovnik on the coast, where I picked up a rental car. I remembered the beauty of the Dalmatian coast from a trip to what was Yugoslavia in the 1970s, and I wanted to drive it again.

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From Prague I changed trains in Vienna and in Zagreb, where I boarded a sleeper to Split. All told, it was a journey of 19 1/2 hours. Croatian Railways is no Orient Express. It was beastly hot, and the train wasn’t air conditioned, so I threw open my window. I snoozed fitfully and awoke as we approached Split, an industrial city blighted by hideous high-rise apartments.

There are several reasons not to bypass Split. One is the 3rd century palace built by Emperor Diocletian as his retirement home. Among the best preserved of all Roman ruins, it’s sort of a living museum, with shops and cafes within its gates. I trod its streets under a blazing sun, stopping for a cold beer in the shadow of Roman columns in the peristyle, the interior courtyard where Diocletian used to come to be adored. The Christian-bashing emperor was buried in the palace mausoleum, which, by a twist of fate, is now the Cathedral of St. Domnius and houses bones of martyred Christians. It’s not known what became of Diocletian’s sarcophagus.

A half-hour’s drive from Split is Trogir, a jewel of a 12th century city on an island. In its center is the magnificent 13th century Romanesque door of the Cathedral of St. Lawrence, with a pair of stone lions supporting statues of Adam and Eve. Trogir, which has its own castle, is undeniably cute and distressingly hip. Tucked among the jewelry shops are an Internet cafe, a tattoo parlor and an aromatherapy place. But wandering side streets away from the gelato-eating masses, I found hidden courtyards and intriguing doorways.

After a night at the serviceable Hotel Split, I joined the queue waiting for the car ferry to the island of Hvar. For some reason, I was told to line up two hours before sailing. This gave me time to poke around the outdoor market next to the palace, where vendors were selling cheese and sausage and produce measured out on ancient brass scales with weights. A few elderly women were dressed in black, with babushkas, quite a contrast to the pierced, skin-baring young Croatian women.

Back at the dock 15 minutes before sailing, I found an agitated attendant diverting cars around mine and screaming at me: Didn’t I know I was supposed to be back 30 minutes ago? Well, no. On board, I settled into a banquette in the nonsmoking section of the pleasant passenger salon and sipped an espresso as we slipped out of the harbor on the hour-and-45-minute trip.

After docking, a 25-minute drive over a winding mountain road past fields of lavender brought me to the town of Hvar. I hadn’t booked a room and was lucky to find one for $100 at the Adriatic, a nondescript hotel in a nice waterfront location.

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Hvar town encircles a picture-perfect harbor with serious yachts at anchor. Its big, beautiful piazza is surrounded on three sides by 15th and 16th century buildings. I had a dinner of piquant buzara (scampi) at the pretty Hanibal restaurant on the square, then joined locals and tourists sitting on the quay wall at midnight eating ice cream. The esplanade with its sidewalk cafes is magical at night, with the ancient buildings, palm trees and lights reflecting off the water. It’s touristy but fun.

Returning to Split by morning ferry, I set out for Dubrovnik. Once out of Split’s ugly suburbs, the two-lane road winds up and down along the clean and green Adriatic. When I dared look, the vistas were sensational -- the tiled roofs of the cities and villages below, the pink-gray Dinari Mountains rising inland, the coves and beaches. Croatian drivers make the Italians look timid. They tailgate, pass on blind curves, then screech in front of you to avoid being taken out by an oncoming car. In places there are precipitous drops and no guardrails.

A challenging journey

The pretty part begins at Omis, where a river runs through town. Including a lunch stop in Makarska on the 35-mile strip called the Makarska Riviera, it was a six-hour trip, bringing me into Dubrovnik just before dark. Crossing the stunning new suspension bridge, I felt like a survivor.

The next challenge: finding my hotel, Villa Dubrovnik. After four laps around the old city, where the one-way road leaves no room for wrong turns, I limped stiffly down the 64 steps to the hotel, which is built into a cliff on the sea.

I loved this place, a low-rise built in the ‘50s. It is a former villa where, I was told, the late Marshal Tito often was a guest. Rooms have balconies overlooking the sea. There’s a private, sandless “beach” among the rocks for sunning.

As I ate dinner by candlelight on the terrace -- scampi again, and good -- the sea lapped gently on the shore below and floodlights played on the walls of the old city in the distance.

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I later spent two nights nearby at the renovated Grand Villa Argentina, which housed many journalists during the war. It is more luxurious but also more commercial and impersonal.

The next morning I made the mistake of driving into the old city rather than making the 20-minute walk from the hotel. The parking crunch is such that cars line up at pay lots. I was thrilled to snag an unmetered space on the street only to have an attendant appear, demanding 5 kuna (less than $1) for the first hour. On a public street? He shrugged. “Since last month,” he said -- and for the rest of tourist season, through November.

The old city was much more commercial than I remembered. I had always loved the sidewalk cafes, which are great for people watching, but I wasn’t prepared for pizza joints and snack shops inside the walls (which one now pays about $2 to climb). As yet, no McDonald’s. The essential old city remains a fairy-tale place, with its broad pedestrian squares, Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque buildings, fountains and churches, and the Franciscan monastery with its splendid cloister.

Sticking to the seaside

To escape the afternoon heat, I headed to the old port and bought a $9 round-trip ticket for a boat to Cavtat, a picturesque medieval town 10 miles south that, it’s said, was a honeymoon stop for Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson. It’s a 45-minute ride, and another time I would have planned Cavtat as a lunch excursion, because there are inviting seaside cafes.

Eager to learn more about the war in Dubrovnik and its aftermath, I had arranged for a licensed guide the next day. The Villa Dubrovnik’s boat (a free perk) took me to the port, where Maja Milovcic met me. At the Rector’s Palace, a museum that in the 12th century was home to the rectors (governors), we rested on a stone bench as she recalled the shock of the 1991 attacks on the old city.

Dubrovnik, although never captured, was among Serbian targets in a war that erupted after Croatia declared its independence from Yugoslavia. More than 200,000 people were killed in that war, the culmination of decades of conflict between the Croats and the Serbian minority over ethnic, economic, territorial and political issues.

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Milovcic, who lives inside the walls, said, “We thought the old part -- never. We were sure they wouldn’t shell it.” It was bombarded from land and sea in the months after. She was among 50,000 people who found shelter within the walls. They had no electricity and little food and water.

“It looked like the whole city was burning,” she said. “It was like somewhere up on the moon. You could feel the ash. People walked the streets crying.”

By 1995, after years of sporadic fighting, most people had returned home, and Dubrovnik had begun rebuilding. By 1996, tourists had begun returning.

Milovcic pointed out her house, on one of the 14 narrow step streets leading off one side of the Stradun. On the official war damage scale, it was a Category 4 house, Category 6 being total destruction. She was waiting to move back in.

Projects that had languished under communist rule, which collapsed in 1989, and then during war, are moving ahead. A four-lane highway from Zagreb to Split is to be completed by mid-2005 and to reach Dubrovnik by 2008.

The old city is not quite a museum piece, although only 4,500 of Dubrovnik’s 55,000 people live inside its walls. But some Croatians fret that in time it will lose all authenticity and exist only for tourists. Since the war, some residences have been bought by Italians and Brits as vacation homes.

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My grand plan was to return to Split by car ferry from the island of Korcula, which some claim is the birthplace of Marco Polo. This meant driving two hours north from Dubrovnik to Orebic by way of Ston, a little town with an extraordinary 3-mile-long 16th century wall resembling a mini-Great Wall of China. Driving the Peljessac Peninsula to Orebic, I passed vineyards and oyster beds. My grand plan crashed when I reached Orebic: The ferry to Korcula that would connect with the Split ferry was full, even though I had a pre-purchased ticket. So I wound up taking another ferry back to the mainland and driving to Split.

There I returned the car and, before catching my train to Budapest, had a cool drink at a cafe on the Riva, the lively pedestrian area at the marina. Watching the passing parade, I imagined the scene there when 150,000 people greeted native son Goran Ivanisevic after his 2001 Wimbledon tennis victory.

The train to Budapest cured me of any lingering romantic ideas about train travel. The sleeping car was dirty, hot and a candidate for a museum for aged trains. Although it was a 17-hour trip, there wasn’t even a snack bar, so breakfast and lunch were tea biscuits shared by a Vermont backpacker. Each time I’d open my compartment door, the attendant would shut it. Finally, he explained gruffly, “Bandites.”

As we rolled toward Hungary, I sorted out random thoughts about the Croatian coast. The commercialization is disappointing. City traffic is a nightmare. Food is good, and -- oddly enough -- steak often is cheaper than fish. I could walk the streets alone after dark without fear. Although some Croatians can be brusque, others went out of their way to be kind. A young Split policewoman let me stay an hour in a no-parking zone while I waited for the rental agent to come get my car.

I hope to return to Croatia, hopping from ferry to ferry, visiting as many of its beautiful Adriatic islands as I can. But I will do it in May or September, when it is cooler and the tourist swarms have left.

*

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

Doing the Dalmatian coast

GETTING THERE:

From LAX, connecting service (change of planes) to Dubrovnik is offered on United, Air France, US Airways, Continental and Lufthansa, connecting to Croatia Airways. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $1,460.

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TELEPHONES:

To call numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international dialing code), 385 (country code for Croatia), 20 (the code for the Dubrovnik area) and the local number.

WHERE TO STAY:

Villa Dubrovnik, 6 Vlaha Bukovca, Dubrovnik; 422-933, fax 423-465, www.villa-dubrovnik.hr. Stylish 40-room boutique hotel nestled into a cliff on the Adriatic Sea, with private beach and terrace restaurant that has dramatic views of the old city. Inviting rooms have seaside balconies. The old city is a 20-minute walk, or the hotel has complimentary boat. Doubles start at $270 in high season, with continental breakfast.

Grand Villa Argentina, 14 Frana Supila, Dubrovnik; 440-555, fax 432-524, www.hoteli-argentina.hr. Deluxe rooms in newly renovated 166-room seaside complex with rich traditional decor, indoor and outdoor pools, health club. From terraced gardens and alfresco restaurant there are great views of the old city, a 15-minute walk away. High-season rates for two start at $228, including full breakfast.

Within the old city, there are two choices for two budgets:

The Pucic Palace, 1 Ulica Od Puca; 326-222, fax 326-223, www.thepucicpalace.com, has 19 guest rooms opulently furnished in antiques in a lovely Baroque building that was an 18th century nobleman’s home. All imaginable amenities for business or pleasure travelers. Cafe, terrace restaurant and wine bar. Double rates in season start at $525, including full breakfast.

Hotel Stari Grad, 4 Od Sigurate; 321-373, fax 321-256, www.hotelstarigrad.com. This recently opened place has eight comfortable, if not sumptuous, rooms in a former aristocrat’s home in the heart of the old city. There is a tiny bar/lobby and, on the top floor, a wonderful breakfast terrace with views of the walled city’s rooftops. Four floors, no elevator. Doubles in season from $148, including full breakfast.

WHERE TO EAT:

Villa Dubrovnik (see above). Alfresco dining, in season, in a romantic setting overlooking the sea and the walled city. Nice selection of fish and, with 24-hour notice, Croatian dishes such as veal goulash and baked octopus. Dinner entrees about $8-$54.

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Rosarij, 4 Zlatarska, Dubrovnik, 423-791, is tucked away in one of the steep, cobbled step streets off the Stradun. In season, dinner is outside at candlelit tables. Ringing church bells and glowing street lamps add atmosphere. Fish and veal dominate the menu, with entrees $7-$24. No credit cards.

Proto, 3 Siroka, Dubrovnik, 323-234. Seafood -- oysters, langouste, crab -- is the specialty at this old-town restaurant off the Stradun. In season, dinner is served on a pleasant second-floor terrace. Most dinner entrees, about $8 to $20.

During tourist season, sidewalk cafes proliferate in Dubrovnik’s old-town squares and side streets, offering similar fare that varies in price and quality. A city native recommended Moby Dick, 20 Prijeko, 321-170, where I had a nice, light lunch for about $9.

TO LEARN MORE:

I used guide Maja Milovcic, a native of Dubrovnik. Available by appointment, 321-282.

Croatian National Tourist Office, 350 Fifth Ave., Suite 4003, New York, NY 10118; (800) 829-4416 or (212) 279-8672, fax (212) 279-8683, www.croatia.hr.

-- Beverly Beyette

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