“What a difference, a day makes…do, doo, be doo…

“Twenty four little hours.”

As the evening breeze let my hair rise and fall with its sigh and the birds soared overhead in the sunset, I found myself humming this, one of my favourite tunes.

Twenty four hours into my stay on Croatia’s Lopud Island, the world itself seemed to have slowed to stop and breathe.

Calming Nature

I’ve long been a fan of fast-paced life, of cities packed with culture and never letting a moment go by. I sometimes wonder whether my years spent working as an A&E (ER) doc fuelled this quest to not waste a moment, to strive to live life to the fullest or whether I’ve always been this way. The one leading to the other, the fast actions to the fast medicine.

Yet over the last few years, I’ve really come to understand the healing power of quiet and the importance of doing nothing. I’ve started to learn the vital skill, in world politics and at home, of expertly applied masterly inactivity.

My arrival in Croatia saw my mind and memory card swollen, straight from the Vespa-ridden piazzas of Rome along the saw-tooth coastal road that just about stayed above the water along Dubrovnik’s rocky coast.

A plush private boat transfer, skitting across the waves of blue, brought me to the foothills of Lopud Island and my base, the luxury sea resort Lafodia.

As one of the busiest islands in the Elaphiti, Lopud is not short of things to do.

But it is not long on them either.

Lopud Village, Croatia

A single main street stretches along the harbour, lined with restaurants, artisanal wares and a sugar ‘n’ pastry laced bakery.

The Lafodia, the main hotel here, offers excursions, and activities that befit being surrounded by blue. There’s kayaking, jet ski, safaris, and good, old fashioned swimming in the sea.

For once, I left all that adrenaline to taste another day.

On my first night, I stretched the sinews of my soul instead with a walk into the sunset.

I stretched the sinews of my soul

It began with a harbour stroll, past the restaurants, beneath the palms and into the cool, green-cloaked park, the shadow of the local stone church beside the sea.

And then I climbed high above (alright, with the aid of a buggy in parts) to where swallows tumbled overhead, their calls and graceful darts and dives drifting in the amber-lit breeze.

Apparently dolphins swim here, my companion Alessandro told me, too.

And we stood and watched as the surf flicked up at the weather-worn rocks, serving cobwebs and cocktails from the sea.

Calming Nature, No Cars

Lopud Island has no cars and precious little crowds for all its proximity to the hub of the Adriatic: the red-tiled roofs of Dubrovnik and its 3.4 gazillion visitors each year.

The closest to a traffic jam you’ll find here involves the buggies that transport weary travellers over the walkable small peak to the sandy beach on the other side of the island.

It’s a keen spot for hikers, with trails easy to follow and find, poppies and pine striking tall in the air, and the promise of a sauna or at least a good soak at the end of the day when that sunset returns.

But for medical reasons this year, I had to go slow.

Croatia’s Past

I followed the path with a young and enthusiastic guide from Zagreb, fluent in English among others, as so many young Croatians are.

He leads me to a small church, along a hidden, steep, grass-strewn path, and I pause beside the gravestones before dipping my head beneath the arch of stone.

Religion still has power here, I’m told. “More than Italy,” are the words I hear.

But this small stone sanctuary reflects the size of the island: 220 inhabitants, down from thousands years ago.

Peace, and relative prosperity, seems to flow with ease into post-Yugoslav Croatia. I first visited shortly after the war, when scars were evident, the wounds still sore.

More Than 20 Years of Peace

Yet more than 20 years passed, now. Although I hear “the war” mentioned on a daily basis, it’s in terms of interrupted schooling or changes in careers, spoken as a standard matter of reference rather than relived at every turn.

But then, I only met the young, or at least those no older than me.

And this time, I didn’t delve. I didn’t want to probe. Let people enjoy their peace, their hard-won right to leave certain issues behind.

For as a hiker through these laurels and long grasses, it does seem like a different world. One where such conflicts never existed. Where even the thought of noise could never be heard.

To the Beach!

Back on the “main drag,” a sandy dirt track with frond massage from long grass on the side, we reach “the other side” and my historical daydreams melt away.

Hungry rocks chomp at the foam and the soft, wet sand lets it glide on by. Sun loungers and “beach dens” in bright blue and painted pink wait for the enthusiastic beachgoers that August will bring.

And I learn that this place is pronounced shoon not sunge and laugh with the pictures of mermaids.

Amid the rocks, the sand, the waves, the sun, and the pop-bright beachside colours, I realise this is no place for talk of war.

It’s a place to enjoy nature. And the chance to relish the moment.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vEMSNhSNUo?rel=0&controls=0&showinfo=0&w=853&h=480]

Disclosure: I travelled to Lopud Island as a guest of the Lafodia Hotel , a luxury hotel that faces the sea. As always, I kept the right to write what I like. Otherwise, there’s just no point.