Issue link: http://digital.canadawide.com/i/201279
with the Adriatic, were a hedge against invaders such as the Venetians, who ruled these parts in the 13th and 14th centuries. One morning, we walk from our sprawling luxury hotel, Rixos Libertas, built into the side of a hill not far from the old city, to meet our walking-tour guide, Duska. "If you put your finger in the seawater," she tells us, "you are connected with the whole world." Not long ago, however – in October 1991 – Dubrovnik was cut off from the world by a siege during the Croatian War of Independence. The Yugoslav People's Army surrounded the city and some 30,000 residents, including Duska, had to flee to escape a three-month bombardment. Much of the city was destroyed. Duska escorts us to the Memorial Room of Defenders of Dubrovnik, a museum in the old city, where we see photos of the bombing. Local fighters who died appear in portraits along the wall. For dinner, we board a wooden boat and ride out to a quiet bay. The city is aglow with lights, reflecting off the limestone walls of houses and the karstic hillside. As we dine on our meal of red snapper, rocket salad and apple strudel, we sip Croatian white wine and brandy and gaze up at the bright white orb of the full moon, which hangs as if strung on a wire between the peaks of two hills. Over the next few days, we take a tour to Montenegro, an optional side trip that takes us south, along the coast, through the community of Kotor, the 3,500-year-old town of Budva and the resort islet of Sveti Stefan. By now we are on day 11. We make our way north to overnight in a Communist-era hotel in Plitvice Lakes National Park, in central Croatia. The accommodations are spare but clean. Encased in glass in the lobby is a taxidermied bear, upright on its back legs. The park quickly becomes a highlight of the trip. Founded in 1949, it is the largest national park in Croatia and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. In the morning, we discover why. We walk the perimeter of small lakes linked by a boardwalk and fed by endless waterfalls. There are 16 interconnected lakes, all shades of emerald and aquamarine. When we get to a series of cascading falls that shroud a small chunk of rock face, our young Croatian guide, Blanka, smiles and says, "This is what we call the Croatian Niagara Falls." (top) The view from atop Ljubljana Castle, Slovenia; a war museum in Karlovac, Croatia. Throughout the walk, Blanka throws out snippets about the region's natural history: the 800 varieties of mushrooms, the forests of beech, fir, maple and hornbeam that surround us, the travertine dams where fallen tree trunks calcify over many, many years into stone. Occasionally she stops to point out a rare orchid or the holes in a beech tree made by dormice. Near the end of the walk she becomes serious. "You hear about Croatia rebuilding itself quickly," she says. "That was the will of the people." By lunchtime we are on our way. We alight, briefly, in Karlovac, near Zagreb, to see bullet-riddled houses, still unrepaired from the war of the 1990s, and an outdoor museum of tanks and artillery. As we continue on to Slovenia, I recall Blanka's words. The p38-43_Adriatic.indd 43 scenery becomes greener and less populated as we exit Croatia and drift north. Slovenia is at the northern edge of the Balkan Peninsula, "squeezed between the Alps and the Adriatic Peninsula," Beata says as we roll toward the capital, Ljubljana. On the long drive, I practise my pronunciation: Lube-lee-yan-ah. Though the Slovenes arrived in these parts around the seventh century, Slovenia itself is a young country, established in 1991 when it broke away from Yugoslavia. As for the capital, it (castle view) Crispin Rodwell/All Canada Photos, Craille Maguire Gillies isn't much older than its roughly 300,000 residents (the average age is early 30s), and we quickly see evidence of that youthful energy in the city's café culture and markets. An 1895 earthquake destroyed many of Ljubljana's buildings. These were replaced, our walking guide Spela tells us the next morning, with art nouveau and modern buildings – such as the "skyscraper" that was the tallest building in the Balkans when it was built in the 1930s. We peer up: it is no more than 12 storeys high. Spela leads us on a brisk walk around town – you can see most of it in an hour or two – and then I break away from the group to visit Ljubljana Castle, the best place in town for photos. A funicular takes me to the top of Castle Hill, where I wander the medieval grounds and climb a tower for sweeping views of the green city. Here, from the highest point in the city, I can see how far we've come. Just a few days ago we were more than 600 km away, sailing in the sea outside Dubrovnik and gazing at the moon. And soon we'll hit the road for our next adventure. go with CAA Savour the unique cultures and picturesque landscapes of Central Europe on an inspiring 15-day journey through Croatia, Slovenia and Austria. Explore imperial history, gleaming cathedrals, ancient temples and grand monuments in such cities as Vienna, Dubrovnik and Zagreb. Prices start at $3,850 per person, based on double occupancy.* *Terms and conditions apply. Based on availability at time of booking. GOING PL ACES >> w i n t e r 2 0 1 3 43 13-10-16 9:31 AM