How lovely waking up this morning knowing that we’re not doing anything or going anywhere for the next couple of days.

I can’t get over just how beautiful Dubrovnik is, and although getting up for the Albania bus was a complete pain in the arse at the time, I’m really glad we saw the marble streets glistening in the early dawn light, having now seen them packed and thronged with people.

We spent the morning walking around the city walls. Dubrovnik is still completely surrounded by city walls, and was thus largely protected during the Balkans conflict. As you walk around the walls at the sea port side, there is some evidence of minor damage, and some buildings where you can still see bullet holes in the walls, but Dubrovnik largely escaped destruction and what damage there was has mostly been repaired.

The views were amazing – out to sea where you could pick out the little islands that dot the Croatian coastline, and inland over the city itself; the red roofs a hodgepodge of colour and character straight out of a travel brochure.

At about midday, launch boats of tourists arrived from a huge cruise liner anchored up off the coast. What was a gentle stroll around the walls became a scrummage to get by, stand near the side of the wall facing the sea, avoid being bumped and knocked by ice creams, hear the sound of the sea above the screams and arguments, and generally escape from the hoards with little blue stickers affixed to their chests.

At the time, the arrival of the cruise liner passengers felt like an intrusion into the tranquility of my day, shattering my enjoyment of the idyllic and beautifully serene vista of this fabulous town. Then, my selfishness ebbing away, I started to think that they are not so different from us and what we are doing. I was pooh-poohing their method of travel, and having a few snatched hours in each place (or even country), until I realised that’s not so different from what we are doing with our day trip to Albania and the one to Bosnia coming up. Perhaps the only difference between us is the way we approach each place, and the fact that we are not part of a collective swarm descending like locusts onto a place and then suddenly making a dash for the launches after a few brief hours when the call of the ship’s horn rings out across the sea.

It could be us. We could be doing that too. I need to stay off my high horse about it really, because although at the moment a cruise isn’t for us, one day it just might be, and I would be tearing around all the sights to see in a place with my blue sticker on my chest, pushing at the queue for beer or ice cream because I don’t have much time to ‘do’ Dubrovnik (or wherever).

There is a lull when the cruise people go. Suddenly the streets are quieter and tables in bars and restaurants are available. Dubrovnik at about 5pm is in between extremes. The hustle and bustle of the day-trippers is over, and the night revels are yet to begin.

It’s the perfect time for beer and quiet contemplation.