Last weekend was one of those days in Dubrovnik that travel brochures dream of. The sky was a perfect, uninterrupted blue, the kind that makes you wonder why on earth this city isn’t bursting at the seams with visitors.

The temperature hovered at that Goldilocks-perfect level—neither too hot nor too cold, just right. A light sea breeze drifted through the streets, gently reminding you that the Adriatic is still very much a presence, even when the beaches lie abandoned.

It was, by all accounts, an ideal day to experience Dubrovnik.

You would think that with such glorious weather, a simple pleasure like sipping coffee in the sun would be easy.

Not so.

The hunt for an open café felt more like an episode of Mission Impossible, with each shuttered door adding another level of frustration. A few scattered tourists drifted through the city—lonely wanderers, independent travelers, the true adventurers of our time.

They weren’t here on a package holiday, nor had they been herded off a cruise ship like disoriented cattle. No, these were the brave few who had decided to visit Dubrovnik outside of the designated, socially acceptable time frame.

And what did we do to reward their intrepid spirit? We closed almost everything.

I have written about this issue before. Many, many times. Too many times. And yet here we are again. Dubrovnik is, without question, one of the most spectacular places to visit in the world. It is a city with history, charm, beauty, and (as proven yesterday) a climate that can make even February feel like a gift.

And yet, when winter arrives, we act as if the entire tourism industry has been placed in hibernation. There is a strange stubbornness here, a refusal to acknowledge that tourism can exist outside of July and August. It’s as if the entire city has collectively decided that unless people are sweating their way through the city walls and paying extortionate prices for bottled water, they do not count as real tourists.

Every year, we hear grand promises about developing winter tourism. We get strategic plans, discussions, roundtable meetings—all the usual performances. And then?

Then we get one or two brave hotels staying open and a handful of restaurants that begrudgingly serve customers. The truth is, winter tourism requires effort. It requires a shift in mindset, a willingness to adapt.

It requires things like—oh, I don’t know—keeping a few more cafés open? Perhaps even acknowledging that not all tourists want to experience Dubrovnik as a sweaty, overcrowded theme park?

The thing is, Dubrovnik in winter is incredible. It’s the city stripped back to its essentials. The beauty is the same, the history is the same, but there is space to breathe, to explore, to truly take it all in.

You can walk the city walls without feeling like you are part of an overambitious Everest expedition. You can stroll along Stradun and hear your own footsteps. You can visit historical sites without needing to elbow someone out of the way. And then, on a day like last weekend, you can sit in the sun, sip a coffee (if you can find one), and wonder why on earth more people aren’t here doing the exact same thing.

Here’s the thing.

If Dubrovnik really wanted winter tourism, we would have it. We have the weather. We have the history. We have the infrastructure. What we don’t have is the will. Because while everyone talks about how great it would be to have a year-round economy, the reality is that many businesses prefer the feast-or-famine approach.

Work non-stop for six months, then close down and disappear.

It’s a cycle that repeats year after year, with no real attempt to change it. So, what will happen next? Well, the season will roll around again. The city will wake up from its self-imposed winter slumber. The first wave of tourists will arrive, blinking in the spring sunlight, and Dubrovnik will act as if they are the first visitors to ever set foot here.

And all of this—this beautiful, silent, underutilized city—will be forgotten until next winter, when someone (probably me) will write another article asking why, once again, we refuse to embrace what is right in front of us.

As the great French novelist Marcel Proust once wrote "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." We could do with some fresh eyes.

Read more Englishman in Dubrovnik…well, if you really want to

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About the author

Mark Thomas (aka Englez u Dubrovniku) is the editor of The Dubrovnik Times. He was born and educated in the UK and moved to live in Dubrovnik in 1998. He works across a whole range of media, from a daily radio show to TV and in print. Thomas is fluent in Croatian and this column is available in Croatia on the website – Dubrovnik Vjesnik