This is not a traditional travel guide. It pairs personal observations with practical advice for travelers who would rather see Croatia as it is, with rough edges, loose ends, and all. Despite the tone, this guide contains practical planning advice, safety context, and logistical realities intended to help travelers decide whether Croatia is right for them.

If you are a person of good sense, and you find yourself in the sort of mood where you require both a change of scenery and a sense of imminent, yet picturesque, peril, you might consider a visit to a place called Croatia. It is a country, you see, that is shaped like a rather peculiar and uncomfortable boomerang, flung with great force by a history of misfortune.

The first thing to know about Croatia is that it has a great deal of water, specifically the Adriatic Sea, which is a body of water so preposterously blue that it seems to be in a perpetual state of good cheer. This cheerful blue is then contrasted with the land itself, which is a collection of craggy coastlines, dramatic cliffs, and an alarming number of islands – more than a thousand, in fact, which is a number so large it suggests a series of geographical accidents. These islands, with their sun-bleached stones and sparse vegetation, stand in the sea like a scattering of forgotten belongings, each one a separate, self-contained mystery.

It is precisely to these sun-drenched, water-lapped locales that a recent, perhaps slightly ambitious, expedition was directed. A group of my friends and I undertook a journey to the port city of Split, for the express purpose of celebrating the grave milestone of our fortieth birthdays. We established a temporary, comfortable base of operations in a villa equipped with the necessary amenities, including a pool. From this secure position, we cautiously investigated the curious city of Split and its immediate environs. The main event was followed by a strategic retreat: a smaller contingent then pressed on to the island of Hvar. Finally, my husband and I elected for a few days of isolated exploration in the venerable, stone-bound city of Dubrovnik, before acknowledging the inescapable fact that our time in this contradictory nation must, inevitably, conclude.

The aforementioned city of Dubrovnik is a walled city so utterly, suspiciously beautiful that it has served as the backdrop for stories of dragons and monarchs of dubious character. Its stone walls are so thick, and its alleyways so narrow, that a visitor might feel as if they are a character in a particularly elaborate and claustrophobic play. You will see grand palaces and elegant courtyards, but you should not be fooled; these places are the survivors of sieges, bombardments, and the sort of historical misunderstandings that often lead to people shouting at one another and throwing things.

Beyond the coast, in the heart of the country, you will find a series of lakes called Plitvice. It is a place of such breathtaking, unnatural beauty that it is difficult to believe it is a part of the same country. The lakes, sixteen of them in total, are connected by waterfalls that spill from one level to the next, like a series of watery staircases to a place you cannot reach. The paths are made of wooden planks, which means that you, the intrepid and likely rain-soaked traveler, are perpetually walking over the water itself, a situation that is as thrilling as it is precarious. It is a reminder that in Croatia, even nature has a flair for the dramatic and a certain disregard for a comfortable, dry footing.

The food, too, is a source of confusion. Along the coast, you will find a bewildering variety of seafood dishes, including a black risotto made with squid ink, which is a meal that looks less like dinner and more like a terrible ink blot that has been left on your plate by a mischievous cephalopod. In other parts of the country, you will find a hearty, no-nonsense cuisine of stews and roasted meats, which will fortify you for the bewildering contradictions to come.

Croatia at a Glance

Best Time to Visit

May, June, and September are the undisputed champions of the Croatian calendar. The Adriatic is sparkling, the ferries are running, and you can actually walk through the Old Town of Dubrovnik without feeling like a sardine in a very beautiful, limestone-walled tin.

If you visit in July and August, prepare for peak season in its most literal form. The temperatures are scorching, the prices double, and the crowds – many of whom are there to find King’s Landing – are everywhere. 

Winter is lovely in the capital, Zagreb, which hosts one of Europe’s best Christmas markets, but the coastal islands effectively enter a deep hibernation where the only thing moving is the Bura wind.

Currency

The Euro (€). After decades of using the Kuna, Croatia officially joined the Eurozone in 2023. While card payments (Visa and Mastercard) are standard in hotels and upscale restaurants, Croatia remains a culture that deeply respects the power of physical cash.

You will need hard currency for small konobas (taverns), local market stalls, and that one specific ice cream stand you’ll visit three times a day. Tipping is not mandatory, but rounding up the bill is the local way of life. If your coffee is €2.60, leaving €3.00 is a silent, classy way to say you enjoyed the view.

Language

The official language is Croatian, a South Slavic tongue that features a delightful amount of consonants and a grammar system designed to keep outsiders guessing.

Luckily for you, English proficiency is exceptionally high, especially among anyone under the age of 60 or anyone working within a five-mile radius of a beach. While you can easily survive on English alone, throwing out a “Hvala” (Thank you) will often earn you a nod of approval and perhaps a slightly heavier pour of the local rakija.

Many Croatians also speak excellent German or Italian, depending on which part of the coast you’re on. 

Cost Level

Moderate (with Dubrovnik surcharges). Croatia is generally cheaper than Italy or France, but it has definitely graduated from its budget secret status. While the inland regions and cities like Zagreb offer fantastic value, coastal hotspots like Hvar and Dubrovnik have developed a taste for London prices.

A liter of local wine or a massive plate of grilled squid remains a bargain in the smaller villages, but be wary of the Old Town tax – where a coffee can cost as much as a full lunch just two streets further inland.

More Dire Travel Warnings About Croatia

I must reluctantly share some troubling news about the land of Croatia, as documented by various government bureaus, including the United States Department of State, the Government of Canada, and even the United Kingdom.

• Petty Crime: This, fellow traveler, is not a reference to crimes committed by people of small stature, but rather the sort of surreptitious snatching of purses and the sly plucking of wallets. It is a peculiar sort of mischief that tends to plague crowded places, much like a pesky cough in a quiet library, and travelers are advised to be as wary of it as they would be of a mischievous monkey with a penchant for shiny objects.
• Unexploded Ordinance: Imagine, if you will, the aftermath of a terrible party, but instead of stray confetti and broken balloons, there are landmines left buried in the ground. While the main tourist thoroughfares have, for the most part, been swept clean of these unpleasant remnants, like a floor after a thorough, if not entirely successful, cleaning, they are said to linger in certain, more rural areas. One must therefore take great care not to stray from the well-trodden path, for to do so would be, to put it mildly, an explosive mistake.
• Overcharging Scams: The Government of Canada, in a most distressing advisory, warns of a specific and utterly vexing scheme involving overpriced bills in certain establishments. It is a business model that seems to have been conceived by an evil accountant, where a simple cocktail might cost you the equivalent of a small castle, and refusing to pay is met with threats. It is a situation that requires the sort of vigilance one would employ when dealing with a particularly cunning villain in a story, and travelers are advised to verify prices and to keep a firm grasp on their financial instruments at all times.

These are just some of the misfortunes that await you in Croatia. And although current as I write this, these travel advisories are ever-shifting documents, meaning that you, as a traveler, are in a constant state of uncertainty. You must check these advisories again and again, like an investor refreshing the stock ticker during a crash. But even then, you will not have peace of mind, for a disaster can strike at any time, in any place, and in any form. To travel is to accept that you are living in a state of suspended dread. 

Here are links to the most current travel advisories from these governments. 

• Government of Canada Travel Advice and Advisories for Croatia
• U.S. Department of State Travel Advisory for Croatia
• United Kingdom Foreign Travel Advice about Croatia

So, as you can see, even the most sober and formal of sources agree that Croatia is not a place for the faint of heart. It is a country of layered sorrows, each one more complex and bewildering than the last. Do not say you were not warned, for the warnings are, I am afraid, everywhere.

Practical Realities

Public Transport

In Croatia, the bus is king. The rail network is a nostalgic relic that connects the capital to a few lucky towns at a pace that allows you to count individual wildflowers along the tracks. If you want to get down the coast, you must board a coach driven by a man who treats the narrow, cliff-side Adriatic Highway like a personal Formula 1 circuit. Between islands, the Jadrolinija ferries operate with a majestic, salt-crusted indifference to your schedule; they will arrive when the sea permits and not a second sooner.

Rental Car Reality

Renting a car is a test of your spatial awareness and your insurance coverage. The coastal roads are masterpieces of engineering carved into limestone, but the parking spaces were seemingly designed for bicycles. 

You must fear the Bura. This is a ferocious, unpredictable wind that can scream down the mountains with enough force to flip a high-sided vehicle or close the main motorway entirely. If the locals are staying off the bridge, you should be staying in the tavern; challenging the Bura is a quick way to end up as a permanent part of the Dalmatian scenery.

Restaurant Timing

The service is direct, which is a gentle way of saying the waiter will not perform a song and dance for your tips. In a traditional Konoba, the food follows the rhythm of the grill. 

If you order Peka, you must call a day in advance; it is a slow-cooked ritual that cannot be rushed by your modern impatience. 

If you want the bill, you must be assertive. In Croatia, a waiter bringing the check unasked is considered an insult – it implies they are kicking you out. To leave, you must fight for the privilege of paying.

Bureaucracy

While you can tap your phone for a gelato in Dubrovnik, many private guesthouses and island fruit stalls only recognize the cold, hard reality of cash. Croatia has recently joined the Eurozone, but the phantom of the old currency still lingers in the pricing. 

Expect to encounter fiskalizacija – a process where every receipt is registered with the state, meaning your quick coffee comes with a paper trail long enough to wrap around the table.

Pace of Life

The local guiding principle is “Pomalo.” There is no direct translation, but it roughly means “take it easy,” “slow down,” and “don’t stress” all at once. It is the philosophy of the coffee break that lasts two hours and the afternoon nap that is a constitutional right. 

Do not mistake a loud, hand-waving argument at the next table for a fight; it is simply a standard conversation about football or olive oil. 

In Croatia, the sun is high, the water is clear, and any problem that can’t be solved with a glass of rakija probably isn’t worth solving today.

Popular Destinations (and Why They May Disappoint)

As with all things in this world, a journey to Croatia is not to be undertaken lightly, but rather with a profound sense of foreboding. The landscape, much like life itself, is a cruel and beautiful trick. To the untrained eye, it appears a sun-drenched paradise, a collection of sparkling islands and ancient, sun-bleached cities. But to a person of discernment, it is merely a new and peculiar assortment of sorrows.

For those who are, for reasons that can only be described as ill-advised, intent on traveling to Croatia, I have compiled a list of particularly distressing destinations:

• Dubrovnik is a city of such self-congratulatory splendor that one is immediately put on edge. Its magnificent stone walls, which enclose a maze of polished streets and terracotta roofs, have unfortunately served as the backdrop for a television program about dragons and power struggles, which has drawn to the city a relentless, swarming tide of gawking admirers. You will find yourself packed in like a sardine with thousands of other poor souls, all squinting up at the same bell tower or shuffling along the same promenade, convinced they are a part of some great cinematic adventure. The heat, meanwhile, is as oppressive as a tyrannical government, and the views from the city walls, while undeniably grand, are merely a reminder that you are trapped between a vast, unforgiving sea and a steep, punishing mountain.

Read: Exploring Dubrovnik: Beauty, Misery, and Tourist Tips.

• Split, a city whose very name suggests a tearing or a division, is built within the ruins of a Roman emperor’s retirement home. One can hardly take a step without stumbling over a column or a piece of a temple, a constant and nagging reminder that all human endeavor, no matter how grand, eventually crumbles into a collection of scattered stones and an overabundance of souvenir shops. The seafront, a promenade known as the Riva, is a place of such relentless, noisy joviality that one is forced to contemplate the cruel truth that happiness, like sunshine, is often best experienced in small, measured doses.

Read all about Split’s Best (and Worst) Attractions.

• Hvar is an island that has, through some unfortunate turn of events, become a fashionable destination for a particular and most odious kind of person. Here, the sun shines with a relentless cheerfulness that only a fool could find appealing, and the air is thick with the clamor of what they call nightlife, a dreadful affair of expensive drinks and loud, insistent music. The island is draped in lavender fields, a sight which, while momentarily pretty, serves only to remind one of the transient nature of beauty and the peculiar odor of small, purple flowers.

• Plitvice Lakes National Park is a place of bewildering and unsettling beauty. Sixteen lakes of an improbable and unnatural shade of turquoise are connected by a series of waterfalls, cascades, and wooden boardwalks. To walk these paths is to participate in a tedious, single-file pilgrimage, a slow-moving parade of tourists all trying to capture a picture of something that simply cannot be contained in a photograph. The sound of the rushing water is, to be sure, quite loud, but it is a loudness that serves to drown out any and all attempts at peaceful contemplation, leaving one with only the wet socks and the faint, persistent fear of falling into an impossibly blue lake.

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• Zadar is a city that has attempted to mask its ancient misfortunes with a pair of perplexing modern spectacles. The Sea Organ, a series of pipes built into the waterfront, produces mournful and random musical notes as the waves crash upon them, a sound so profoundly melancholic it is as if the sea itself is sighing with a deep and existential sadness. Nearby, the Greeting to the Sun is a large solar-powered circle that, after the sun has gone down in a blaze of impossible colours, puts on a light show of such dizzying and chaotic proportions that it can only be described as a public display of optical confusion. To experience these two attractions is to witness a city that has, through no fault of its own, become a stage for a silent, musical elegy and a frantic, silent disco.

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• One might be tempted to flee to the less-frequented islands of Vis or Korčula, but this, too, would be a mistake. To seek out a less-crowded locale is simply to trade one set of unpleasantries for another. You may avoid the jostling crowds, but you will find yourself in a place so quiet it is oppressive, where the very act of a ferry arriving is an event of such importance that it cannot be ignored. The local delicacies, while perhaps lauded by those who have nothing better to do than eat, are often nothing more than a new kind of seafood served with an old kind of sorrow.

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Who Croatia Is (and Isn’t) For

✔️ Good for:

• Fans of Pomalo: Those who can embrace a slow-paced lifestyle where coffee breaks last two hours and taking it easy is a social requirement.
• History and Cinematic Buffs: Travelers who enjoy walking through suspiciously beautiful walled cities like Dubrovnik or ruins like Diocletian’s Palace in Split.
• Active Water Lovers: People who enjoy preposterously blue water, hopping between over a thousand islands, or walking over waterfalls on wooden planks.
• Multilingual Travelers: Those who speak English, German, or Italian, as proficiency in these languages is exceptionally high in tourist areas.
• Off-Peak Seekers: Visitors who prefer May, June, or September for manageable crowds and reasonable London-level pricing.

❌ Not ideal for:

• The Budget-Restricted: Travelers expecting a budget secret; hotspots like Hvar and Dubrovnik now command high prices, often including Old Town surcharges.
• Crowd-Shy Individuals: Anyone visiting in July or August who would feel like a sardine in a limestone-walled tin among swarms of tourists.
• The Physically or Mentally Anxious: People who fear imminent peril, such as high-speed bus drivers on cliff-side roads or the Bura – a wind strong enough to flip vehicles.
• Reckless Explorers: Those who enjoy wandering off-trail in rural areas; one must be wary of unexploded ordinance (landmines) lingering in certain regions.
• The Impatient Diner: People who want fast service or haven’t planned ahead for Peka (which requires a day’s notice), or those who find direct service rude.
• Cash-Only Haters: While the Euro is standard, many small taverns (konobas), market stalls, and guesthouses strictly require the cold, hard reality of cash.

In short, Croatia is not a place for the faint of heart or the easily reassured. It is a country that offers a kind of beautiful sorrow, where the sun shines upon a history of profound gloom and the sea washes over a landscape shaped by misfortune. It is a travel destination for those who understand that beauty is often at its most compelling when it is tinged with the memory of trouble, and that the best adventures, like the most poignant stories, are those that do not promise a happy ending, but only a memorable one. To travel there is to make a memory from which you may never fully recover. A much more sensible course of action would be to curl up under a weighted blanket and study the migration patterns of uncontroversial birds.