A quiet morning, fast becoming a routine, by the pool. But at 11:30 we were set off for our bus ride into the Old town and to join our happy comrades who had also signed up to go Kayaking. Suposidly a 4km paddle around the island, past the battlements of the old town, taking in the views, including the far from overly publicised nudist beach, the 16th C Monastery, and then to a cave bay where we stopped for refreshments and a snorkle. I was delighted to seethat the guide technique of showing the happy punters what a sea urchin looks like has evolved a little. My first experience was scuba diving off Turkey in 1996, where 5mtrs down the guide prized an unfortuate molusc  off the rocks and then proceeded to crack it oipen with a smaller rock to encourage a wide array of fish to come close. It appears the humble urchin is higher up the pecking order in Croatia, the guide did indeed prize one off the rocks but then gentle handled it to show every one and then carefully returned it to its home. I hope this stunt urchin has a green card and is paid well for his inconvenience.

I have to confess there were times I wasn’t sure my shoulders would hold out, and there is no way that was only 4 km paddle, but as 4pm approached we in turn approached our destination, a little wearier and pondering on why we were choosing to exert so much energy in such ridiculous temperatures, and whilst on holiday!

We stopped off at the shops on our bus journey home, picked up some nibbles and a few bits and bobs for the children then piled back into the hotel room for a well earned bath and freshen up before dinner in the restaurant accompanied by the Magnificent Vincent Magic show! - well you have to don’t you? don’t you?

Whilst relaxing pre dinner we landed upon RAI2 Channel one of the eclectic mix of international televisions channels, just to catch the start of the II Palio Italian bare back horse race, yes the same one that is used in The Quantum Of Solace, where 10 riders race bare back three times around the main piaza in Siena. The Contrada of the winning steed, whether rider still mounted or not, notches up his win and the celebration style is typically filled with Italian Passion, the fight between rider and two raging fans over the crop was quite intimidating. This year Tartuca won (The tortoise), a quick one two on wikipaedia and we see that this increases Tartuca’s wins to 47 1/2 (yes, a half!) since 1656 and that next year the race contenders will be the 7 of the 17 that didn’t run this year plus three drawn from a hat.

Though commentated in Italian we found the whole experience including the argybargy between jockeys and horses in the lead up (that took more than 15 minutes), horses biting, refusing and rearing all fired up by the densly packed crowd of more than imaginably enthusiastic onlookers.

So back to Croatia and we spend our last evening in the company of Vincent the Magnificent, wish us luck (and we don’t even have the excuse of children with us!)

We arrived in the Old Town by bus, it was almost raining, but with temperatures still high it was a pleasant change. Tour guides in the hundreds wielding a variety of location markers, from umbrellas to flags and coloured sticks, their dutiful followers in the thousands. We purchased our tickets to begin the ascent to the upper battlements, a 2km perimeter wall towering above the turquoise sea below embracing a lagoon of terracotta.

As the rain gave way to the sun we completed the circuit via an orange juice stop off and a pause to watch your brash, slightly nutty men jump from the cliff into the water, with much applause from the international panel of judges, all those on that section of the wall.

Hot but feeling  a great sense of achievement, possibly influenced by the fact the whole wall is signposted one way and it appears there was one way in and it was the same way out, we finished and took a wander around the unbelievably touristy shops filled with fridge magnets, mugs and I luv Dubrovnik T shirts.

Back to the hotel, a snooze and then out to experiment with the local restaurants, chosen by a pin in the map method, we ended up at Zoe’s. The food was surprisingly good, the setting if you looked out to sea was lovely, the fact it looked a little more like a cafe canteen and it appeared to be part of the Hotel Neptune complex was letting it down but the staff were lovely and the live music grew on us.

A taxi ride back nearly turned into a disaster when we mistook the denominations of the currency and paid nearly £50 for a 3 minute journey. To our delight the taxi driver tracked us down as we headed for the lifts and put us back in financial stability! Humanity lives.

Settled in and well rested we woke to an overcast day though still warm. In some ways a relief as the incessant sun can become quite oppressive. The Hotel is lovely, innovative design, clean lines, clean rooms, friendly staff and a room lighting and a/c system that needs a PhD in Astro physics to master.

The first night we walked around the harbour to join in the festival, the street was lined with BBQ’s cooking schnizels, sardines and burgers. One had an engineering masterpiece of 10 whole Lambs being spit roasted in a trailer with a chain link mechanism to continually rotate each beast in perfect harmony.

The following morning we did notice the sign by the pool, ” would guests please refrain from getting into the habit or reserving sun loungers by leaving towels and personal belongings. Any items left for more than 1 hour will be removed.” We are vindicated, and a photo of the sign will be winging its way back across the border to The Queen of Montenegro Hotel.

Breakfast under our belt we pondered on how to spend the day. The Old town is a fair walk, possibly too fair, so a taxi would be needed. It is Sunday however, and as such do we want to save our Old town experience for when more is open tomorrow. There are several tours running in the evenings which look interesting and a plethora of amazing looking restaurants all beautifully photographed and written about in the most superlative manner in the free Eating Out guide on reception. All however lacking addresses or directions.

Well not quite yet, we decided to enjoy a leisurely morning of breakfast and pool. Then hurl the contents of our room back in the bags and set off to Kotor. A walled city, as most are in Montenegro. A feature born from its violent and chequered past East conurbation appears to have a Stari Grad (Old Town) which displays varying heights of defensive walls. This town has one unusual feature; some bright spark thought it would be cool to build the walls on the near vertical slopes of the Kotor Mountain. And like many a pilgrim, and daft tourist before him Kenn decided it would necessitate a personal view on the matter, and in over 33 deg C temperatures stepped forth to inspect all 1302 steps rising nearly three quarters of e kilometer…. up. I had more sense, took in a few quaint shops and sat at Ceasars bar with an Orangina.

Once Kenn returned, a deeper shade of crimson but stronger in valour for the experience, we braved the unbelievable temperatures that had been brewed inside the car and that waited our return to set them free. Standing back like two children who got too near the Guy Faulks bonfire we waited for the going to be safe.

We drove for the border, a clear pleasant run around Kotor bay, the kilometers passing us bye, leaving us with the memory that it took 60 of them to pass under our wheels for us to pass just 4 as the crow flies, hasn’t anyone suggested a suspension bridge? Eventually we approached the Montenegrin border, the first of two, I think they just have to have one each for show. The Croatians have one, so we need one. One to say hello and one to say good bye. Either way the first we approached slowly in a slow moving queue of Serban and Croatian Holiday makers returning home. No alternative route, short cut or cut through possible, we all knew our doom was sealed to make our way to the barriers and show our papers. Temperatures rising 4pm and t was still 33 deg. We event elected to close the roof and settle in with the a/c. Eventually we made it through.  Then instead of the queue speeding off into the Croatian sunset, it crawled forth to join the back of a second even slower queue.

After 2 hours we were free. A quick dash to the airport, drop the keys off for our now very dusty and dirty car, which I might add was very unimpressive for a 1.6, for a country with hills to rival any country’s, an engine with more oomph than a sewing machine is required.  A Taxi to Dubrovnik and here we are. Hotel Lapad.

Both days were marked by the intention to spend them in the laziest of fashions. However rest assured they were not spent pointlessly. We stood for British attitude of fairness and complained vehemently about the habit of guests having to wreck their perfectly good excuse for a lay in on holiday and rise as per their normal lives at 6am for a small shot at reserving a sun lounger. I did ask whether it was Montenegro’s wish as part of their embracing of Europe to take the German stance n such matters or the British one. When remarking on the fact that the British queue well, respect the space of others and stand for fairness, (even if at times the outcome may not be the best, fairness is always right) I suggested that Montenegro had been dealt several blows of unfairness in its history, notably the unfair invasion by Mussolini, perhaps Montenegrins wanted to show their strength against mob rule with towels!

We spent some time in our world peace deliberations with a somewhat weak Hotel Manager who claimed “what can we do?” to which we of course made several suitable suggestions, such as a notice to say “no lounger reservations before 10am, or perhaps make a charge for them, either way if it was part of the rules that loungers could be reserved they should make it possible to do so by phone from your room, and of course state the practise is encouraged in the hotel room guide pack, so everyone can rush out of their room, select stairs of lift for fastest descent, perhaps even the fire exit for that extra edge, and charge limbs flaying and towels twirling towards those poor innocent items of peaceful furniture.

We felt the need to vacate and spend some time amongst more suitably well adjusted folk, so on the first of these two days we decided to go for a drive to see what Budva Old Town was like. A walled mass of terracotta roofes, packed with churches and Cafe’s. We strolled around the tumbledown outhouses abutting the white stone barracks and churches. The message in every museum and exhibition to be found is that Montenegrins like their guns. A church we saw the prevouse day in Citinji was walled by 1572 musket barralls; how religious and death are so intertwined.

We partook in one of the legacies of the Italian invasion, amazing Italian Icecream, their Pizza’s and spaghetti is pretty fine too. Something I noticed was a definite attribute of Eritrea another Italian territory.

The second of these two days we decided to discover what out of town was like by the coast. Map in hand we set off. However “map” was an interesting name to give this particular document. A series of sqiggly lines drawn on paper in white and yellow, amongst a splattering of dots with unpronounceable words beside them. We rapidly came to the conclusion, after discovering the local quarry and a Ibiza style bar that would have tested even the most liberal noise pollution laws of the uk, that this “map” was an approximation on the territory that called itself Montenegro.

We managed to test the off road capabilities of our Opel Astra Convertible, and also came to the conclusion that we had spent much of the afternoon driving down a river bed not a road. However at the end of this was the most amazing bay with white and grey smooth pebbles the size of loaves of bread, and crystal clear water, cool enough to be thoroughly refreshing after the white knuckle ride at arrive, but warm enough to feel you could sit for hours just watching your toes amongst the stones.

We had to leave, not knowing if our route back would be as equally challenging though I am happy to make a new location suggestion to the world Rally circuit organisers. We stopped off at the local corner shop at the foot of our hotel’s road and then collapsed for a quiet eve with some cold ham and rolls. I fell asleep to a couple of incredibly bad movies, that I am convinced never made it to the British film society approvals list, even with a cast including Uma Thermen. Ken decided to read and play with the Ipad in the Hotels free wifi zone in the foyer, next to the bar!