I was amazed by the number and variety of fish on display, simply cruising around in the shallows unperturbed by swimmers. I saw shoals of striped and spotted fish, pale catfish travelling purposefully along the bottom, one small flat thing pretending to be a stone, and a sand-coloured octopus the size of my hand which oozed under a rock when it saw me see it. Prescription goggles: not just for making sure you select the right changing-room for your sex any more.
When Howard, who had been lurking in the air-conditioned apartment trying to find Tour de France coverage on TV, deemed it cool enough to go out, we rode to the border with Montenegro. This was the furthest point we reached, and everything looked extra strange and foreign: the slim, dark cypress trees, the wild lavender at the roadside, the police convoys flashing past. We stopped before the border and debated whether to pop in, but since neither of us had insurance or breakdown cover for the country, it seemed an unnecessary act of foolhardiness. Another time!
Returning to Dubrovnik, we took a stroll through the Old Town. This is still inhabited by both humans and cats; the main routes were all postcard and ice cream shops, but we saw washing-lines down alleyways.
I wanted to fit in one last swim before supper and bed. In the dark, the beach was deserted, but the water was so calm and shallow I wasn't afraid to go in. I swam under the stars and aeroplanes, to the sounds of a classical concert at one of the beachfront restaurants. It was so pleasant I wondered why everyone didn't do it, hoping the answer wasn't 'big sharks'.