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The Independent 09.08.09
Isles of light: Croatia's Dalmatian coast
Setting a course around Croatia's lesser-known islands, John Walsh makes a voyage of discovery - encountering beautiful surroundings, sheer luxury and overassertive locals.
.....You land in Dubrovnik, two-and-a-half hours out of Gatwick, then a two-hour taxi ride scoots you down the long, sliver-thin Peljesac peninsula that sticks out from the mainland like a rude natural phenomenon. It's a lovely ride, on which you note how green the place is - unlike many Greek and Italian islands, Croatian isles seem to burst with foliage and leafy bowers. They don't seem to suffer that heat-bewildered starkness of the Med in July. And the coastline looks as though it's been tidied up, its loose edges and eroded hemlines tucked away and stitched in. It looks, if anything, a little too perfect.
Soon you're on the 20-minute ferry to Korcula, an island with a lovely medieval town where, if you believe local spin, Marco Polo was born in 1254. The island is known as Kerkyra Melaina or "Black Corfu" because it's stuffed with olive groves and pine forests, but it's a lot more beautiful than the Greek tourist trap. It is, however, pretty stiff with tourists, hanging out in waterside bars until late, or taking breakfast by the sea wall, as the loudspeakers in the trees overhead play "El Condor Pasa".
A vast, imposing Land Gate (Kopnena Vrata) leads you up steps to the Revelin Tower, through which you're transported to the Middle Ages. If you feel you've just stepped into back-street Venice, it's hardly surprising: the Revelin Tower bears the Venetian coat of arms. The gate was built to celebrate the island's successful defence against the Ottoman navy in the battle of Lepanto in 1571, as celebrated by G K Chesterton's great poem: "They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy / They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea."
Escaping from the late-night market stalls, you can find yourself in a courtyard watching 20 local men in bright Ruritanian garb (half in red and white, half in black and white, accessorised with plumed headgear) squaring up to each other. Each man wields two short swords and, after some argy-bargy about which king has exclusive grazing rights to a fainting damsel, they start to fight. This is the Moreska, the Korculan sword dance which has celebrated the Lepanto victory annually for 440 years.
The initial dance-steps of the two kings irresistibly remind one of the Fish-Slapping Dance in Monty Python, circa 1972. But as the choreography of sword-clashing speeds up, encouraged by a noisy brass band on the parapet, and real sparks are struck, it's pretty impressive.
There's only one hotel in the Old Town, the Hotel Korcula (the first to be built on the island, in 1912.) It's flyblown, but undoubtedly impressive, with a windswept terrace that overlooks the bay. Visitors with more avant-garde tastes should check out the Lesic-Dimitri Palace, not so much a hotel as an experience in spatial surrealism. It's a complex of six large, one- and two-storey buildings on either side of an alley running from the town centre down to the sea. The buildings date back to the 15th and 16th centuries and have been extended by successive generations ever since.
They were bought in 2000 by an enterprising Englishman, Michael Unsworth, and reinvented as dramatically luxurious suites. They all feature three or four bedrooms, but the décor in each is wildly different. One suite features a thrillingly ancient dining-room with original stone sinks and windows. Another sports a massive dining table with surreally high-backed chairs and crazily proportioned sofas. The balcony overlooks both sunset and sea, though you have to squint down a narrow corridor to see them.
The manager, Toni Lozica, is a bit of an installation himself: 6ft 6in of bearded, long-haired SlavicV C machismo, an opera singer ("Bryn Terfel? I am always being confused with him. Luckily, he is good friend") and mariachi band member, he is Korculani born and bred, with all the islander pride and breezy arrogance that implies. A word from his lips, a microscopic lift of his bristling eyebrow and people spring into action: deals are made, taxis are ordered, tables are booked, boats are hired and (I'm guessing here) unwelcome strangers are pulled into dark alleys and garrotted. He steered us towards the most appealing sandy beach on the island, the Vela Przina in Lumbarda, 6km from Korcula town; and towards a terrific restaurant called Mate's (or "Matthew's") in the village of Pupnat, where lunch goes on all afternoon.
You start with fennel-infused grappa, and a mixed plate of smoked prosciutto, goat's cheese, marinated aubergines and crab pâté, move on to the omelette with ham and asparagus, then some simple pasta then, climactically, peceno meso or grilled meat - a huge plate of delicious lamb cutlets. Eating out here doesn't come cheap: the fresh meat and fish cost 250 kuna (about £35) per kilo. And it's a shock to find the local wine costs the same as posh Burgundy in London restaurants. Although the big Croatian reds, Postup and Dignac, are made only a couple of miles away on the Pelisac peninsula (you can practically see the vineyards from your table), they're produced in such small quantities that they can justify charging 200 kuna (£27) a bottle in bars and restaurants. Delicious too, if oddly redolent of both Cherry Cola and Fry's Turkish Delight.
There's not much nightlife on the island, except for hopping between the several Old Town bars and climbing the ladders up to the battlements of the Massimo cocktail bar, where we sat among shrieky young Irish girls on a hen party, as the waiter took our orders and pulled up the ensuing cocktails in a bucket on the end of a rope....
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