“Is this your first time to Rovinj?” asked the hotel receptionist in Croatian, but with an accent that sounded like she’d just rolled out of Venice. And there it was — my confession moment. I’ve been living in Croatia for nearly three decades, seen its coastlines, climbed its mountains, drunk its vineyards dry, but somehow the country’s second-most-photographed town had passed me by. It’s like being British and never having set foot in London.

“Indeed, it is,” I replied sheepishly. She clocked my accent. “Ah, you’re from Dubrovnik,” she smiled knowingly. “Yes, sort of,” I said, unwilling to explain that I’m technically from England, living in Dubrovnik, and permanently lost somewhere in translation.

Infuriatingly Beautiful First Impressions

And so, first impressions: Rovinj is infuriatingly beautiful. It’s so ridiculously picturesque that you almost resent it for being so. My reason for finally making the pilgrimage wasn’t romance or relaxation but duty — I’d been invited to speak at the Media Weekend Festival, courtesy of the Croatian National Tourist Board.

The theme? Pomalo. Yes, that gloriously Dalmatian way of life that means “slow down, take it easy.” I was there to explain how foreign this concept is to an Englishman, coming from a country where we invented the queue not as a cultural practice but as a national neurosis. We are the anti-pomalo nation.

A Riot at the Festival

The panel discussion itself was a riot. At one point someone asked me how long it took to learn Croatian. “I never learnt Croatian,” I replied, “I learnt Dubrovački.” The hall erupted in laughter. It’s true — what I speak is a dialect that confuses even Croatians, let alone language teachers.

But this is Croatia. You don’t so much learn the language as wrestle with it, like trying to catch an eel with a fork.

The festival was, in its own way, a kind of surreal theatre. Imagine sitting opposite a TV news anchor at breakfast. Your brain can’t compute — is he about to butter his croissant or break live with “Good morning, Croatia”? Spoiler: it was just a croissant.

Rovinj Under the Microscope

But let’s get back to Rovinj, that jewel of the Adriatic. My problem is professional deformation. I can’t simply see a city. I examine it like an obsessive. Parking fees? Checked. Menu prices? Studied. Tourist offers? Cross-referenced and analysed.

I spend an embarrassing amount of time reading signposts, as if they’ll reveal the city’s soul. (For the record, the most expensive parking I found was €5 an hour, which for Dubrovnik veterans is practically a bargain.)

Then there’s the locals — or lack thereof. In Dubrovnik, people complain that it’s hard to find a local voice among the cruise-ship throngs. In Rovinj, it’s like hunting unicorns. The population is tiny, about a quarter of Dubrovnik’s, and the few locals you do stumble across may well be speaking Italian.

Rovinj wears its Venetian past like an expensive silk scarf. And unlike Dubrovnik, where the crowds mostly come by plane, Rovinj is practically a drive-through city for Austrians, Germans, and Italians. So many Italian number plates that I began to wonder if I’d accidentally crossed a border. Spotting a PU plate was like a wildlife sighting: “Quick, grab the binoculars!”

A Hotel to Remember

And then there was the Grand Park Hotel. Honestly — WOW in capital letters. Top three hotels I’ve ever seen. I took a coffee break on the terrace. I squeezed in next to a Californian couple who kindly offered me a seat.

“It’s like we’re extras in a postcard,” the woman joked as we sipped coffee overlooking the marina. And she was right — Rovinj isn’t a town, it’s a stage set. You half expect someone to roll out a green screen once you’ve finished your cappuccino.

Seeing Croatia Through Fresh Eyes

There’s something intoxicating about watching first-time visitors fall in love with Croatia. Their enthusiasm is contagious — their eyes wide, their smiles genuine. As jaded as we locals like to pretend we are (“Oh, another sunset, yawn”), seeing their delight reminds you of the magic you live with every day.

So yes, Rovinj, I will be back. You’ve seduced me with your pastel facades, your Venetian whispers, and your Italian menus. Dubrovnik may be my home, but Istria has a way of sneaking into your heart like a glass of Malvazija you didn’t order but end up loving.

One Country, Many Stories

And here’s the kicker: Croatia isn’t one postcard. It’s a whole photo album. From Dubrovnik’s stone drama to Rovinj’s pastel poetry, each corner is a different mood, a different melody. We live in a country where beauty is almost banal, and yet it still has the power to surprise us.

Rovinj reminded me of that. So, take it from an Englishman in Dubrovnik who finally strayed north: if pomalo means slowing down long enough to actually notice what’s around you, then perhaps I’m slowly learning it after all.

@fotis_travels Rovinj, on Croatia’s Adriatic coast, is one of the most charming towns in Istria — perfect for a coastal getaway #fyp #foryourepage #foryourpagetiktok #Rovinj #CroatiaTravel #Istria #AdriaticCoast #OldTownRovinj #ZlatniRt #EuropeanGetaway #HiddenGems #SeasideViews #TravelTips @Travel @Travel Guys @Traveller Bucketlist ???? @Bucketlist @Bucket List Visit ???? @Croatia @croatiafulloflife @Explore Croatia.BEST OF This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. @rovinjcroatia @Visit Rovinj ♬ Unut Gönlüm Onu - Ufuk Kızıl

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

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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