Island Hvar Croatia - apartments,accommodation and hotels in Croatia

Holidays in Croatia for tourists- Lonely planet top destination in the world year 2005 - Croatia soared to the top of this year's poll after a fourth-place finish last year. Croatia's appeal was its unique combination of culture, history, cuisine, accessibility and affordability. As one staffer wrote, "This is Croatia's year. It appeals to a wide range of travellers with its rich diversity of attractions. And it has not yet been over-touristed, but it has developed an excellent tourism infrastructure -- so that it suits both adventurous travellers and those who need a degree of comfort in their planning." read more Croatia Lonely planet no 1

	Hvar - articles from New York times We are finishing a marathon meal at Macondo, a seafood restaurant on a nameless back alley in Hvar. My dinner companion, a local painter, writer and actor named Niksa Barisic, was talking about a historic theater built in 1612 during the Dalmatian Renaissance and still in use half a millennium later. But he could just as well have been describing his feelings for Hvar itself, a mountainous, lavender-scented isle set in the blue, sun-blasted Adriatic Sea off the Dalmatian coast of Croatia. For centuries, the island has lured visitors and inspired poets. "I know paradise now, I know Hvar," a lyric local saying goes. Now, 10 years after the end of a bloody civil war that devastated much of Croatia, it still struggles as it sees hope for its future in ancient tourist meccas like Hvar, sister islands like Korcula and Mljet, and Dubrovnik - Croatia's, and, arguably, Europe's, most beautiful city. Recently rediscovered as an off-the-radar haven by the international celebrity set and their media-camp followers, Dubrovnik and Dalmatia's many romantic islands and hidden coves provided backdrops for lavish photo layouts in magazines like GQ, which this year proclaimed the Croatia "the Next Riviera, " and Sports Illustrated. In May, Croatia, a scythe-shaped country that sits astride the star-crossed, blood-drenched Balkans, was named the world's hottest travel destination in the new edition of the Lonely Planet guide to Croatia, which cited its "rich diversity of attractions," accessibility and "relative affordability" (its currency, the kuna, is far friendlier to the dollar than the euro is) as well as its "stunning beaches and islands" and "magnificent food." That's a surprising turnaround for a country that saw its most fabled city, Dubrovnik, nearly destroyed by artillery bombardments during a months-long siege in the 1991-95 war. With eight million visitors expected in Croatia this summer, the government-run national tourist board has begun a campaign to restore tourism to its prewar levels, when upward of 10 million visitors annually flocked to the beaches of Dalmatia and Istria, the neighboring coastal province to the north. Back then, the tourist industry accounted for a full third of Croatia's national income. Tourism officials say that the number of visitors has grown 6 to 10 percent in each of the past several years. Nowhere is the tourist board's touted "Magical Croatia" brand more fitting than on Hvar, where they give names to the wind but not the streets, where children are said to fly and the richest man in the world has to wait for his latte during fjaka, when the island tucks in for its afternoon siesta. Holding court at Macondo, Mr. Barisic, a burly, bearded cross between Jerry Garcia and Zorba the Greek, is quick to cackle at his own stories and eager to share his knowledge and love for Hvar and its bounty. "You must be careful," he cautioned as he poured me a glass of the rich local red, strong as it is delicious. "One glass you won't feel; have two, you won't feel a thing." Describing Hvar (awkward in English, it's pronounced hwahr) as a "hideaway for the creative poor and the very rich," Mr. Barisic said, "Celebrities like to come here because they're left alone. Bill Gates sails in on his yacht and no one pays any attention. No one cares. There are no paparazzi, no fans, no autographs. I was in a cafe with my daughter and a lady sat down at the next table. My daughter said, 'Dad, that's the lady from "Shakespeare in Love." ' " Gwyneth Paltrow is among the many red-carpet faces seen blending in with the crowds in recent summers. "It gets to be like 42nd Street around here in July and August," Mr. Barisic said the next afternoon as he sipped a whiskey-laced coffee in one of Hvar's outdoor cafes. "No one sleeps during the season. Everyone is jumping around, singing and roaming the streets until dawn." The scene is hard to imagine during a visit in late March, when the sun-drenched square, a wide piazza from the 13th century paved with polished white stone mined on Hvar and its sister island, Brac (the same stone was used in Split to build the palace of the Roman emperor Diocletian and, 16 centuries later, the White House) is deserted during fjaka. Toddlers chase pigeons across the square, squealing with delight. Elderly men smoke in the cool shadows cast by the bell tower of the 16th-century Cathedral of St. Stephen, which forms the picturesque west face of the square. A three-legged dog, a red scarf tied at its neck, trots as best it can behind its master who, like most dog owners here, carries a leash but seldom has use for it. Dogs here are a well-trained lot who obey voice commands and stroll in and out of the open-air cafes as they please. Their owners don't bother scooping up after them. That work is left to professionals, street cleaners who do an excellent job keeping tourists' Manolo sandals unsoiled during the raucous high season. read more in NYT here

Galeb

Hvar - articles from New York times

We are finishing a marathon meal at Macondo, a seafood restaurant on a nameless back alley in Hvar. My dinner companion, a local painter, writer and actor named Niksa Barisic, was talking about a historic theater built in 1612 during the Dalmatian Renaissance and still in use half a millennium later. But he could just as well have been describing his feelings for Hvar itself, a mountainous, lavender-scented isle set in the blue, sun-blasted Adriatic Sea off the Dalmatian coast of Croatia.

For centuries, the island has lured visitors and inspired poets. "I know paradise now, I know Hvar," a lyric local saying goes. Now, 10 years after the end of a bloody civil war that devastated much of Croatia, it still struggles as it sees hope for its future in ancient tourist meccas like Hvar, sister islands like Korcula and Mljet, and Dubrovnik - Croatia's, and, arguably, Europe's, most beautiful city.

Recently rediscovered as an off-the-radar haven by the international celebrity set and their media-camp followers, Dubrovnik and Dalmatia's many romantic islands and hidden coves provided backdrops for lavish photo layouts in magazines like GQ, which this year proclaimed the Croatia "the Next Riviera, " and Sports Illustrated. In May, Croatia, a scythe-shaped country that sits astride the star-crossed, blood-drenched Balkans, was named the world's hottest travel destination in the new edition of the Lonely Planet guide to Croatia, which cited its "rich diversity of attractions," accessibility and "relative affordability" (its currency, the kuna, is far friendlier to the dollar than the euro is) as well as its "stunning beaches and islands" and "magnificent food."

That's a surprising turnaround for a country that saw its most fabled city, Dubrovnik, nearly destroyed by artillery bombardments during a months-long siege in the 1991-95 war. With eight million visitors expected in Croatia this summer, the government-run national tourist board has begun a campaign to restore tourism to its prewar levels, when upward of 10 million visitors annually flocked to the beaches of Dalmatia and Istria, the neighboring coastal province to the north. Back then, the tourist industry accounted for a full third of Croatia's national income. Tourism officials say that the number of visitors has grown 6 to 10 percent in each of the past several years.

Nowhere is the tourist board's touted "Magical Croatia" brand more fitting than on Hvar, where they give names to the wind but not the streets, where children are said to fly and the richest man in the world has to wait for his latte during fjaka, when the island tucks in for its afternoon siesta.

Holding court at Macondo, Mr. Barisic, a burly, bearded cross between Jerry Garcia and Zorba the Greek, is quick to cackle at his own stories and eager to share his knowledge and love for Hvar and its bounty. "You must be careful," he cautioned as he poured me a glass of the rich local red, strong as it is delicious. "One glass you won't feel; have two, you won't feel a thing."

Describing Hvar (awkward in English, it's pronounced hwahr) as a "hideaway for the creative poor and the very rich," Mr. Barisic said, "Celebrities like to come here because they're left alone. Bill Gates sails in on his yacht and no one pays any attention. No one cares. There are no paparazzi, no fans, no autographs. I was in a cafe with my daughter and a lady sat down at the next table. My daughter said, 'Dad, that's the lady from "Shakespeare in Love." ' "

Gwyneth Paltrow is among the many red-carpet faces seen blending in with the crowds in recent summers. "It gets to be like 42nd Street around here in July and August," Mr. Barisic said the next afternoon as he sipped a whiskey-laced coffee in one of Hvar's outdoor cafes. "No one sleeps during the season. Everyone is jumping around, singing and roaming the streets until dawn."

The scene is hard to imagine during a visit in late March, when the sun-drenched square, a wide piazza from the 13th century paved with polished white stone mined on Hvar and its sister island, Brac (the same stone was used in Split to build the palace of the Roman emperor Diocletian and, 16 centuries later, the White House) is deserted during fjaka.

Toddlers chase pigeons across the square, squealing with delight. Elderly men smoke in the cool shadows cast by the bell tower of the 16th-century Cathedral of St. Stephen, which forms the picturesque west face of the square.

A three-legged dog, a red scarf tied at its neck, trots as best it can behind its master who, like most dog owners here, carries a leash but seldom has use for it. Dogs here are a well-trained lot who obey voice commands and stroll in and out of the open-air cafes as they please. Their owners don't bother scooping up after them. That work is left to professionals, street cleaners who do an excellent job keeping tourists' Manolo sandals unsoiled during the raucous high season.

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