Day Twentythree - Jun 20, 2017

Dubrovnik, Croatia

High Point: Oysters, mussels, and cold beer at Kamenice.

Low Point: Stood over the clearest water in the Adriatic and stayed on the path.

Miles By Foot: 6

Today's Antiquities: Pile Gate, the city walls, Ulica svete Marije, the Jesuit church, a Madonna-and-Child tympanum, the Franciscan monastery, the supetar gargoyle, and the Old Port

Today's Weather: 83º, clear with a couple of clouds

Tonight's Lodging: Our Old Town Dubrovnik hideaway

Touristic Events: The back-way stairs past the wall fountain, lunch at Kamenice on Gundulić Square, the path down to Šulić cove, the supetar luck stone, and an evening concert against the fortress wall

Travel Tip: The back alleys are right there—let the Pile Gate queue have itself.

Daily Didactic

Today was the day we actually walked the Old Town, six miles of it, in 83° that an Alaskan files squarely under "too warm." We let ourselves out through the door Theresa runs, dropped into the alley grid, and skipped the Pile Gate crush in favor of the back way, which on this morning meant an old wall fountain in dappled shade, somebody's quiet courtyard with the laundry inarguably done, and a Saint Peter tucked in a niche over an arched stairway. We climbed the stepped lanes—the kind narrow enough to measure in clotheslines—up Ulica svete Marije with its red window boxes and steps that mean it, found a Madonna over a Latin lintel, and ducked into the Jesuit church, which had more gilt Baroque ceiling than two Alaskan Protestants quite knew where to put. A vine-trellised café on a side alley nearly talked us into staying for good. Lunch was the honest peak: oysters, mussels, and cold beer at Kamenice, Brian sleeves-up and very pleased about all of it. We walked it off down the little path under Lovrijenac to Šulić cove, where the water was clear enough to embarrass us for not getting in, which is the day's official shortfall. Back inside the walls we kept tripping over carved Madonnas and a winged stone Saint Francis on a shaded Franciscan terrace. The evening went full Dubrovnik—a bell tower lit white down a laundry-strung alley, the Old Port glassy under the walls, and a few kids on a lit stage against a fortress wall to a crowd in silhouette. Theresa finished it off at the supetar by the monastery: face to the wall, one foot on the worn gargoyle, following the local instructions we did not make up.