Ed Wisneski photos The harbor and old walled city of Dubrovnik, called "Pearl of the Adriatic" by Lord Byron. Dubrovnik gets its name from the Croatian "Dubrava," or "oak woods."

By Ed Wisneski

DUBROVNIK, Croatia -- Like many Americans, I didn't know much about Croatia except that it was a piece in the jigsaw puzzle carved out of the former Yugoslavia after a brutal ethnic war that ended barely a decade ago.

A statue of Gregorius of Nin stands in the remains of Diocletian's Palace in Split, Croatia. Click photo for larger image. If you go: Croatia One of the best ways to experience Croatia for the first time is with a small group led by a native of the country. Odysseys Unlimited -- which guarantees tours for between 12 and 24 people -- offers a 12-day excursion of Croatia followed by two days in Venice. It's called "The Pearls of Dalmatia." Travel & Leisure magazine selected Odysseys Unlimited (www.odysseys-unlimited.com; 1-888-370-6765) for its 2005 list of the "World's Best" tour operators.   If you want to go on your own, the best place to start is the excellent Web site of the Croatian National Tourist Board (www.croatia.hr).   -- Ed Wisneski

Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Serbia, Macedonia and Montenegro -- I could barely pronounce them, let alone identify them on a map. My only impressions of that part of the world had been forged by horrific images of one of the bloodiest conflicts since World War II, which killed an estimated 300,000 people and made refugees of 1.5 million more. Croatia was not exactly the vacation destination I had in mind.

A brochure praising the "Pearls of Dalmatia" with an enticing photo of Dubrovnik's terra-cotta rooftops jutting into the Adriatic Sea budged my preconceived prejudices. I was surprised to learn Croatia has a longer shoreline (1,100 miles) than California. Underneath the picture, an endorsement from playwright George Bernard Shaw greatly weakened my resistance: "Those who seek paradise on earth," he once wrote, "should seek it in Dubrovnik." It did look inviting.

I also wondered whether Dalmatia -- which covers the southeastern tip of this boomerang-shaped country that is about the size of West Virginia -- had anything to do with the dog. A lot of people have asked me this. One theory speculates that the Venetians named the canine breed in the 18th century after this area of Croatia they had ruled for nearly 400 years -- until Napoleon came along. Perhaps the dog's spots reminded them of the archipelago of 1,185 islands (47 inhabited) that forms Croatia's polka-dotted western border in the Adriatic. I adore dogs; I was ready to go.

Europeans had already beat us to Croatia. In 1985, tourism peaked with more than 10 million visitors. After the war broke out in 1991, it plummeted to 2.5 million. In 2005, nearly 10 million tourists had come back, including 3 million Germans and Italians. That's probably the best indicator of Croatia's safety.

Lonely Planet, the travel guide publisher, had anointed Croatia as the "hottest destination of 2005," ahead of China, Argentina and the United States. My wife and I wanted to experience the country before Americans discovered it.

Nearly a quarter of the country's 4.4 million people live in the capital city of Zagreb, which exudes the splendor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire that ruled Croatia until the end of World War I. Stately domed buildings with ornate facades straddle the Strossmajerov trg, a tree-lined promenade of parks. On a Saturday afternoon, we joined the scene of strolling couples, artists at easels, spurting fountains, an imposing statue of a sword-wielding king on his horse, and soft sounds of Strauss and Liszt emanating from a bandstand that created an Old World atmosphere of style and grace.

We stayed at the Hotel Esplanade, an Art Deco masterpiece restored to the 1920s brilliance when it entertained passengers from the Orient Express, which stopped at the nearby train station. A few blocks away, the exquisite Croatian National Theatre looks as if it had been lifted from the palace grounds of Vienna.

	Zadar, the major city of northern Dalmatia, is known for its fine medieval churches and Roman ruins. Click photo for larger image.

From the grandeur of Zagreb, we drove to Plitvice Lakes National Park, a pristine valley with 16 lakes flanked by heavily wooded hills spouting spectacular waterfalls. The drifting sunlight and deposits of mineral in the water created a kaleidoscope of colors as we crisscrossed streams, pools and cascades on wooden footbridges and ferried across the lakes. UNESCO, the United Nations organization that supports protection of irreplaceable treasures throughout the world, has declared Plitvice Lakes a World Heritage site. Sadly, the first skirmishes between the Croats and Serbs in 1991 erupted in the park, which suffered little damage.

Dubrovnik, another World Heritage site, was bombed in that conflict. Serbian nationalist fervor, incited by Slobodan Milosevic, ignited the senseless attack on a defenseless city of little strategic value. To Croatians, however, 1,300-year-old Dubrovnik is a priceless symbol of their national identity. The rockets and grenades that struck nearly 70 percent of the Old Town's 824 buildings caused an estimated $10 million in damage. One writer denounced the attack as "cultural vandalism." A worldwide outpouring of funds enabled Dubrovnik to rise from its ashes literally and to restore "The Pearl of the Adriatic" -- as English poet Lord Byron immortalized it -- to its previous lustre.

As we entered Dubrovnik from the eastern Ploce Gate, a placard outside the Sponza Palace drew us inside to a room with photos of the Dubrovnik heroes who died defending their town and video footage of the bombing. It was a sobering and eerie reminder that the marble streets we were about to walk on had been stained with blood and bombs only 15 years earlier.

The mile-long medieval wall surrounding the traffic-free Stari Grad (Old Town) provides the best vantage points to inspect Dubrovnik's remarkable resurrection and its few lingering scars. Its main thoroughfare -- the Placa -- cuts a double-wide swatch through the middle of a maze of narrow alleys with shops and restaurants specializing in fresh seafood and Italian cuisine.

Northwest of Dubrovnik, Roman antiquities take center stage. In Pula, at the tip of the popular Istrian Peninsula, the first-century Roman amphitheater designed for gladiator battles remains startlingly intact with two rows of 72 arches spread around the 100-foot-tall outer wall. Today, it's still used as a venue for concerts and film festivals.

Diocletian's Palace, another UNESCO World Heritage site, spans an area 250 yards long by 200 yards wide in Split, which with a population of 188,000 is Croatia's second-largest city.

Built between A.D. 295 and 305, the palace was designed as a lavish residence, a base of military protection, and a final resting place for a Roman emperor who was not very popular with Christians. With an unlimited budget, Diocletian imported marble from Greece and Italy. From Egypt, he had shipped columns and sphinxes, one of which lounges demurely outside the entrance to the largest structure in the complex, the Cathedral of St. Dominus. Today the palace grounds are a lively hub of 220 buildings that house 3,000 people and an impressive array of stores with the latest fashions.

Diocletian's Palace is situated behind Split's splendid ocean promenade, where I sipped a pivo (Croatian for beer) and watched the Jadrolinija ferries whisk tourists to the island of Hvar less than two hours away. Awash with fields of lavender and pine, Hvar boasts Croatia's sunniest clime (2,724 hours annually). True to form, we departed a dreary, rainy Split in the morning, and, shortly before we reached Hvar, the sun poked through the clouds.

The Croatian tourist board bills its coastline "the Mediterranean as it once was." A disclaimer should be added: "Only from September to June." The sunny climate, natural beauty and treasures of antiquity create an ambience similar to that of southern France, Italy, and Greece -- which is both good and bad.

In July and August, the overcrowded Croatian coast is transformed into "the Mediterranean as it now is." Prices soar and armadas of packed cruise ships descending on Dubrovnik and other coastal hot spots exacerbate the glut. In late May and early June, we had plenty of room. September is also a good time to go. I hope this story doesn't spoil it.

The main courtyard in Diocletian's Palace in Split, one of the most massive Roman antiquities in the world.