GO CROATIA:Cruising the Elafiti Islands of the Adriatic makes Catherine Foleyfeel as if she's living the life of a tsarina
IS IT ANY WONDER I began to think of myself as the forgotten tsarina of Russia? As we sailed through the Elafiti Islands, in the Adriatic Sea just off Dubrovnik, aboard a gleaming schooner I forgot about life at home and my weekly routine. Instead I began to dream about earlier days, when indolence and the gratification of every whim were the order of the day.
Having spent a few days on board Andeo, I felt the lifestyle the Russian royals enjoyed before the proletariat stormed the palaces had become a reality. I blame my delusions of grandeur on the beauty of the coastline, the leisurely pace of the trip, the unspoilt islands and the attention to every whim aboard the elegant vessel. (On my return to Dublin, I was tempted briefly to wear white lace gloves, carry a fan or a fringed parasol and view life as if through a filmy prism of nostalgia.)
Being waited on by a handsome young Croatian skipper, Niksa Gluncic, was all part of the package. Our host was Michael Bird, founder of Dalmatian Destinations. We dined like kings and queens each day, all the while rising and sinking rhythmically in the turquoise waters of the sea. We slipped past the white karst foothills of the Dalmatian coastline in an elegant gulet - a traditional Turkish sailing vessel - a blur of polished wood and shining brass.
At mealtimes the great dining table was covered with white and blue tablecloths, matching china and sparkling glassware. After meals of octopus, blitva, soup, salads, smoked ham, pureed potato and risotto, washed down with local wines, we'd while away the time, reading, lounging, relaxing, pontificating and chatting about those petulant peasants back home, smiling sleepily and indulgently all the while.
Before boarding the vessel, which was moored and waiting for us in the harbour of Gruz, we took a regal stroll through the medieval walled city of Dubrovnik. A wedding party had stopped in the main square to hold an impromptu session of celebratory singing and clapping. The musicians, including a tuba player and an accordionist, joined in to belt out the swinging notes of a traditional Croatian love song. The energy banished all thoughts of the recent war. We stopped to listen. "Love is a very difficult pain; love is a pain in my heart," one of my travelling companions translated. The rousing notes, to serenade the bride and groom, filled the air. We moved on, nodding encouragingly to the musicians. "Open your window, my darling, and listen to the music of the night," they sang. Their music ringing in our ears, we weighed anchor and set sail for our first island, Lopud.
Our equanimity remained intact even when the sirocco, or jugoas it is known in Croatia, blew us across the waters south of the Mljetski Canal. This warm wind, which gave its name to Yugoslavia, was followed by a bit of rain, but Andeo- its name is Croatian for angel - ploughed on steadily through the choppy seas until it came to anchor in the calm, lapping waters of Lopud, a small car-free island that is only two kilometres wide and less than five kilometres long.
Here we visited the tiny Chapel of the Holy Cross. The dusty, musky smell of the little stone building, with its altar and ancient images, was like visiting a forgotten world. The chapel is at the water's edge, almost hidden behind overgrown lavender and columbine. It was built by a wealthy seaman and ship owner in the 16th century. The ruins of his summer house stand nearby, like many other grand aristocratic summer houses, a number of monasteries and many churches that dot the islands, hinting at the area's rich past.
We walked over the hill towards Sunj Beach, following a winding path through lush vegetation with scents of thyme, rosemary, lavender, myrtle and orange blossom wafting all around. The island is home to more than 400 plant species, including a dozen that are "endangered or endemic", as a notice declares.
As I wandered along the lovely sandy beach, my head in the clouds, I was brought back to earth by the sight of a lone male nudist, sunning himself by a windbreak. Croatia, I learned, is full of surprises.
On our return to Andeo, just in time for a late lunch, our course was set for the island of Sipan. The waters were choppy, so we spent the night in the calm anchorage of the village of Sipanska Luka, feasting in a local restaurant on salted sardines and sea bass, not to mention flagons of local wine.
There was time to wander through the village and enjoy the sight of mansions from earlier eras, now derelict. Dalmatia was ruled by the Venetians for three centuries, and the islands are dotted with many examples of Renaissance culture and Italianate architecture.
Peeping out through my porthole at the night sky later that evening, I thought about the great families that had summered here in the past and wondered what had happened to them. Had they lost fortunes, suffered personal tragedies or emigrated?
When you travel with time on your hands and nothing to worry you bar whether to have a second plate of risotto, you may find yourself identifying with tragic figures of the past and their fates. But after dabbing some perfume under my chin - indulgence had become my middle name - I slept soundly. As I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the cradle-like swing of the moored boat, my thoughts turned to . . . breakfast.
The man renting bicycles on the jetty at Polace, on the island of Mljet, was clear about what gear handle to pull if we didn't want to go head first over the handlebars. He explained the workings of the push bikes in functional English and demonstrated how to "click" the handle and how "to avoid catapult".
Then we cycled around the island's lush national park. One oncoming cyclist eyed us crossly as we cycled along, weaving carelessly from one side of the track to the other. "Not England!" he called.
We stopped and waited for the ferry that would take us across the water to the Isle of St Mary and its deserted monastery. Benedictine monks had sole possession of the island until they left, at the end of the 18th century. Rasputin came to mind, of course. He would have liked this green islet in the deep green waters of Veliko Lake. Ah yes; monks, I've known a few.
More religion followed on Sunday, when we arrived at Korcula, where my first stop after stepping on to the pier at the island's fortified town - where Marco Polo is reputed to have been born - was to visit the island's 13th-century cathedral. Next door is a bishop's palace dating from the 14th century; it is now a church museum. It has a range of sacred and secular artefacts, including books, paintings and coins, some of which belonged to rich local families.
The idiosyncratic museum is a fair representation of the cultural inheritance of the town. In one room is a necklace that the city of Calcutta gave to Mother Teresa when she won the Nobel Peace Prize; there's part of a Byzantine cross from the sixth century; and in another room is a Persian rug. A small hall is filled with a well-preserved collection of clothes worn by Dalmatian bishops, priests and deacons.
All too soon, Andeoheaded for home. We docked again in Gruz and waved goodbye to Niksa, our captain, and his crew - chef Sanel Zustra and second in command Petar Laus - and to the unspoilt coastline of Dalmatia. And my tsarina leanings came to an abrupt halt. Ah, well. The poor woman came to a sad end in the end.
Where to stop off for something to eat
• The fish and seafood dishes are delicious at Restaurant Nautika, a family-run place that overlooks the sea just outside the city walls of Dubrovnik (Brsalje 3, 00-385-20-442526, www.esculap-teo.hr/ restaurant_nautika.html).
• Step on to the quay in Sipan, take three steps and walk right into Restaurant More, where you'll enjoy delicious seabass and blitva (Sipanska Luka, 00-385-98-9426427).
• The charismatic proprietor of the long-established Konoba Adio Mare (Sv Roka 2, Korcula, 00-385-20-711253) will provide you with a selection of home-made wines and local dishes such as salted sardines, mussels, chargrilled squid and smoked ham.
• Sit outside under the awning, boats lapping in the moonlit water nearby, and enjoy the freshly caught sea bass and octopus salad at Restaurant Ana (Pomena, Mljet, 00-385-20744034).
Go there: Catherine Foley was a guest of Dalmatian Destinations (00-44-20- 77308007, www.dalmatian destinations.com). A week's charter starts at €16,200 for eight people, including all meals, all drinks, port taxes and Croatia airport transfers. British Airways (www.ba.com) flies to Dubrovnik via Gatwick.