Let's Talk About Dubrovnik

Let me take you back to last autumn when I couldn’t be more excited to visit Croatia’s Adriatic coast for the first time.

I had previously traveled to Ilok in northeastern Croatia’s wine country during the depths of winter, but while the wine was a delight, it was definitely not the picture perfect turquoise sea that most people associate with the country’s popular coastal cities like Hvar, Split and Dubrovnik.

On approach, I stood at the bow of the cruise ship admiring the terracotta rooftops peering out from the top of the Old Town’s towering stone walls. I was immediately swooned by the contrast of the sapphire sea against the white-washed facades and burnt orange cityscape.

As I puttered into shore and entered the shallow waters of the harbor—an ombre progression from deep cobalt to azure to pale turquoise—I felt like I had finally arrived at the quintessential Croatia I’d heard about from colleagues. Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone.

I hopped off the tender and as I turned into Luža Square, I was horrified by the hoards of tour groups that greeted me. Of course, I was previously aware of overtourism in the area thanks to Game of Thrones which used the city to portray King’s Landing. But given it was mid-October, I assumed the crowds would have fanned out during shoulder season.

I was quickly overwhelmed by the gimmicks of it all, including life-size Peter Dinklage statues, fans quoting characters at key sights and abruptly stopping in the middle of heavy foot traffic to pose for a photo. So, I promptly pivoted and began to take the turns that nobody else was taking.

My pace slowed and soon I was the sole person strolling through narrow passages and ducking under 16th century archways. One of those vaults led me to a cliffside bar and next thing I knew, I was cracking open a local hazy pale ale and enjoying the lap of the ocean in the shadows of the whitewashed ramparts.

I basked in the moment of solitude until my mind wandered to what would happen when I exited this quiet corner of Dubrovnik in an attempt to take advantage of my few hours onshore. The only plan I came up with was to follow the less trodden paths again.

As I was on my way out, I overheard English for the first time in about the hour that I was there. “I think we’re the only ones from our boat here,” these two gentlemen said, as they settled into their table with a Coca-Cola and a beer. I turned to them, probably inspired by my prompt finish of the crisp pale ale on a warm day, and asked what cruise line they were with; it turns out they were on my ship and surprised to learn that I had stumbled upon their slice of Dubrovnik paradise.

“It’s the only place you need to see in Dubrovnik,” they told me as I mentioned I was on my way out to explore more. It turns out they had visited the city a few years ago and were so astonished by the crowds that once they found this bar, they settled in for the day.

I contemplated their advice for a brief moment, but I wanted to accept the challenge of finding somewhere else around the city with a semblance of local culture.

I spent the next hour or so darting large groups following flagged tour guides and scouring every storefront for an authentic souvenir that didn’t include a dragon bobblehead or Game of Thrones’ house flag. I thought I might stumble upon another hole-in-the-wall but the crowds were persistent.

Finally, I broke down and used Google to my advantage to look up wine bars “near me.” I browsed through the options and filtered out one that was farthest from Stradun, the paved pedestrianized thoroughway. It ended up being so tucked away from a side path, that I walked past it three or four times and thought, with my luck, it might be closed for the season.

My determination paid off, though, as I walked into the unassuming portal, up a flight of stairs and onto a sunlit terrace, covered in vines overlooking the domes and towers of the city. I was so thrilled to see flights of local Croatian wine so that I could sip some of the varieties I hadn’t tried on my last trip to the region. Especially some of the lighter, brighter options, like Graševina, Grk and Pošip.

The staff were incredibly welcoming and were overjoyed to share their knowledge about some of the local varieties. There was only one other person there the entire time, and towards the end of her meal, she looked at me, having finally clocked that I was American after all of my talks with the waiters, to share how this is the only place she comes when she’s in Dubrovnik.

“It’s a zoo out there,” she said red faced and seemingly reluctant to leave this oasis to fight the crowds back to her hotel. I was glad to discover that it wasn’t just me who was overwhelmed by the mainstream craze.

All this to say, it’s always so disappointing to realize firsthand how the negative effects of media and the stains of pop culture can borderline ruin a city. I’ve witnessed it before and it’s no secret that this happens in countless other destinations but this time felt particularly sobering and may have been the worst example I’ve encountered thus far. (I can’t even imagine what it must be like during the peak summer season).

Obviously, there are places that we all want to visit in the world but the reality is that these cities are also people’s homes and have been for generations; it’s not a movie set for them, it’s not a bucket list trip for them, it’s their day-to-day life.

There’s a reason Dubrovnik’s iconic Old Town was chosen for the Game of Thrones set; the 13th to 17th century city walls, fortresses and towers have been preserved from their original construction that transport you back to an ancient time—no green screen required. And if we don’t preserve it, the city will crumble.

As a travel writer, it’s really difficult to try to find the balance of pointing out authentic attractions in overrun cities. This is why I explicitly did not name the bars that I visited in Dubrovnik in an effort to preserve some of the peace that can be found there (if you are interested in these bars, I’m not going to gatekeep, please shoot me a message and I will share them with you).

But I think it takes a certain type of traveler to want to dig in and take that extra step of inquiry rather than have something handed to them; maybe that’s why destinations get ruined because we’re so used to having everything at our finger tips as something we can check off.

It’s important for me to realize that not everything needs to be shared because not everyone will appreciate some of the places for what they are. For instance, I mentioned there were amazing views at the wine bar, but that’s not why I went to the wine bar nor why I lingered there.

Further back to the gentlemen whom I met when I was at the first hidden bar, they mentioned that they were in Dubrovnik many years ago. And the fact that the bar still remained less trodden was surprising, amazing, special. I want to preserve that.

And yet, I don’t always have this option because I’m a writer for national outlets that constantly seek insider spots to highlight, but I think when it comes to personal recommendations, I’ve been reconsidering how I want to share things. It’s an ongoing effort. It’s a challenge, in an ever changing world. But it’s something I’m committed to.

I had my first brush with linen sheets at a hotel last summer and was obsessed with the cooling texture in the heat of August. I became dead set on finding the right linen sheets at home and after testing a few pairs, these are by far a favorite.

They are naturally temperature regulating which makes them the perfect year-round sheet but if you’re an individual who can’t survive a winter without your flannels, just trust me on swapping them out now as the transitional season brings warmer weather.

The ultimate resort amenity? Private beaches.

Seen a lot of spicy spirits releases lately? Thank pop culture for that.

Ever wonder why various vodka brands taste different? Here’s why.

XO,