Croatia

Dubrovnik hit differently than I expected. I'd seen the photos, the Game of Thrones stuff, the postcards — but nothing quite prepares you for the first time you see those limestone walls rising straight out of the Adriatic, the sea that deep shade of blue-green that almost looks fake. Walking the city walls in the heat of the afternoon, the old town spread below in terracotta and cream, the open water stretching all the way to the horizon — that's the kind of view that stays with you.

The Old Town itself is almost entirely on foot. The main street, Stradun, is polished marble that shines like it's always just been rained on, and the dome of the cathedral sits at the end of it like the whole street was designed to frame it. Off to the sides, the alleys are narrow and dark and cool, with lanterns hanging between the walls and the occasional line of laundry strung overhead. I got genuinely lost a few times and didn't mind at all.

The food was good in a straightforward way — fresh fish, local white wine, fried cheese with cherry tomatoes and sour cream by the sides. I had lunch at a waterfront spot where the sea was right there, centimetres below the terrace, that particular aquamarine that only shows up in shallow Adriatic coves. Croatia didn't try to be anything other than what it is, and that was more than enough.