A couple of years ago we went on a family holiday to Kotor in Montenegro.
The old walled town is lovely, a jumble of cobbled streets, with hidden chapels illuminated by beeswax candles and a cat museum that is delightfully eccentric.
It can get a little crowded in the summer, especially when a huge cruise ship arrives, docking next to the city walls and incongruously overshadowing the town.
We stayed in an AirBNB apartment in Dobroto, a small village about a kilometre and a half north of the old town.
The apartment was in a holiday home that sat right on the bay, just past St Matthew’s Church, at the point where it opens up to widescreen vista of distant bays and sheer grey walls of stone.
Going for a swim was a simple as crossing a road that was more like a path and diving into the emerald green waters.
There weren’t many new apartments in Dobrota. It was more of an old-skool holiday town.
Families arrived in cars loaded with pillows and blankets and inflatable beach toys to the same house they did every year for a summer beside the sea.
Then they sat on fold-out chairs eating watermelon, bought that morning from the market and sliced up by nonna, right there in front of them.
I kinda wish I was there right now.