"We're heading to Split," Jelena continues, "where we will catch a boat that makes the short crossing to Hvar. It's a delightful island that is hugely popular with both locals and international tourists for its variety of beaches, non-stop night life, trendy restaurants, wines, and, of course, its world famous lavender fields. But there's more," she adds. "Hvar also has a storied past dating back to the time of the ancient Greeks. Tomorrow morning we will be touring the island and we'll visit its oldest settlement, Stari Grad." "Won't it be fun to add another island to our long list," I remark to my husband at the thought of exploring a Croatian island and comparing it to some of our favorite Greek islands.
   

   
The turnover time in Split is a mere half hour. We board a Jadrolinija catamaran that zooms toward Hvar town, approaching its port in less than 60 minutes. Looming high above the waterfront bay is a dramatic Spanish fortress built centuries ago to protect the town from Turkish marauders and pirate attacks. Numerous luxury yachts are lined up at the water's edge. Cascades of houses spill down from limestone and dolomite hilltops. Nearby, Hvar's elegant theater dating form 1612 still sets the tone for the town's popular summer music festival and winter Carnival celebrations.

"Our hotel is just steps away," says Jelena as we disembark and head toward the Adriana, a boutique property renowned for its dramatic harbor views. "Take a few minutes to soak up the seaside atmosphere, then take a dip in the hotel's fabulous indoor pool followed by a nap," she suggests. "We'll reconvene in the lobby at six." "The hotel can wait," I declare as I make a beeline for a crowded kiosk displaying an enormous cache of lavender products-from soaps, sachets, and lotions to dry bouquets and seed packets. "If you put lavender under your pillow, you will sleep better," she recommends with an approving smile as I select an assortment of sachets, oils and soaps for family and friends back home.
   

    
We check into the Adriana and head directly to its rooftop bar for drinks and a commanding vista of the entire harbor. "Did you see the picture book on the coffee table in our room?" I query my husband. "This property is included in an exclusive list of Best Small Hotels of the World." Refreshed and dressed for dinner, our group strolls toward Hvar's elegant piazza, where Hanibal Restaurant, just steps from the cathedral, has readied our welcome dinner. It's a perfect introduction to the Italianate cuisine of the coast, beginning with a tangy soup, followed by asparagus risotto, sea bass filet in wine sauce, and lavender ice cream for dessert. We linger on the piazza, soaking up the ambience. Nearly every table in sight has been commandeered by rowdy Euro youths ready for another night of non-stop carousing. "Happening Hvar is the ultimate party town," I proclaim, visualizing similar scenes at overcrowded clubs and bars located at outlying beaches and wondering when and if the younger set ever goes to bed.

"We're on our way north to Stari Grad this morning, one of Europe's oldest towns," announces Jelena as she introduces our local guide, twinkly-eyed Anna Maria, a business graduate who moved to Hvar from Zagreb when she married a local boy whose family operates a lavender farm. "When lavender farming is off season, I fill my time with small accounting jobs and tour guiding," Anna Maria reveals with a shy smile. "Now let's board the bus." The translucent Adriatic glints in the morning sun as we trace the steep, indented coast toward Stari Grad. Without warning, our bus driver swerves off the road so we can view an enormous lavender field, its bushes bulging with new growth. "Lavender picking officially begins in late June," Anna Maria explains, "so the season is still nearly two months off. Imagine how intoxicating the scent is when you are working in a field. Being there gives you a wonderful sense of well-being!"
    

   
Stari Grad, a UNESCO World Heritage site, exudes the intimacy that Hvar Town lacks. Its compact harbor encloses a deep bay lined with fishing skiffs, reminding me of our many beloved Greek islands. "The Greeks arrived here around 384 BC," Anna Maria explains. "When the Romans conquered the island, its Greek name, Faros (lighthouse) became Faria, eventually evolving to Stari Grad (old place). The Greeks minted their own money and planted crops in the adjoining fertile plain that you can still see today. It is considered the best-preserved example of how the ancients farmed in the Mediterranean. The Slavs conquered the town in the 8th century, and by the 13th it became a vassal of the Venetian Republic, affording the locals better protection from relentless pirate attacks. The town changed hands repeatedly thereafter, eventually falling under Napoleonic control, and then the mighty Austro-Hungarian Empire," Anna Maria elaborates. "Tragically, in the 19th century when phylloxera nearly wiped out all of Hvar's grape vines, many of its residents were forced to move away. "Thank goodness for tourism," I whisper to my husband. We stroll toward Biankini, a grand mansion with a garden that houses the Stari Grad Museum. The Franciscan Monastery at the water's edge boasts an impressive cache of old master paintings and rare books and coins. At the church of St. Rocco, the town's patron saint, his statue commands a prime spot near the main altar. "Too bad we can't spend more time here," I sigh, loving the smaller scale and authenticity of the town.

"What do you recommend for this afternoon?" I ask Jelena when we return to Hvar, noting that we have several free hours available. "How about a wine tour!" she suggests. "My favorite is Tomic Winery, located in the coastal area of Jelsa. Their facilities are fantastic as are their wines." A phone call secures us a spot on their afternoon tour. Our taxi winds through miles of walled vineyards and olive orchards, many originally laid out by local Greeks 2400 years earlier. I had read that Croatia produces about 40 native wines and is the birthplace of Zinfandel. Andro Tomic ranks as one of Hvar's best known winemakers. Coming from a family dedicated to viticulture, he is known to explain in minute detail the differences between sparkling Prosecco and their own dessert wine, Prosek. The winery is a tribute to his passion and imagination. Customers sample wines in a subterranean gallery with stone arches that evoke an ancient Roman triclinium where patrons could recline as they feasted and sipped their wines. Two staff members lead us down to the travertine-pillared room where tables laden with crusty village bread, olive oil, prosciutto and tangy cheeses are ready for winetasting. Their marketing director holds up several bottles of select Tomic wines. "Today we will be sampling some barrel-aged Tomic Plavac and Tomic Caplar Barrique which is more full bodied," she announces. "We will end with Prosek, the original Dalmatian dessert wine." The tour does not disappoint. We depart convinced that the Tomic family has exploited the full potential of their indigenous grapes.
   

   
"We have an ideal morning to visit beautiful Zadar," Jelena speaks into the mike after we board our bus. "It is a fascinating city with long stints of both Roman and Venetian control." Ahead of us, Zadar juts into the azure Adriatic, an imposing peninsula in a coveted location that held political importance in Dalmatia. We stop just outside the city's triple gate, built by the Venetians to protect the citizenry from frequent Ottoman attacks. The wide center gate was once a portal for chariots and wagons, with side doors designated for pedestrians, a practice adapted to modern traffic movement today. Just ahead, Sandra, reportedly Zadar's most experienced guide, is motioning us to join her. "You are about to walk through 3,000 years of history," she begins. "When Zadar became dominant under Roman control long ago, it was renowned for its magnificent Forum which to this day remains the largest of its type in Croatia. But let's begin at the seashore so you can experience our recently completed sea organ." We follow her to the water's edge where a series of eerie musical tonalities known as "greetings of the sun" are emanating from a network of tubes hidden in a series of stairs that are continuously drenched by sea waves. "Wow," several members of our group express their utter amazement. "Architect Nikola Basic won many awards for creating the world's very first musical pipe organ played by the sea." Sandra brags. "Kind of eerie, isn't it? Believe it or not, this sea organ was specifically designed to evoke the complex harmonies of klapa music," she explains as we continue toward the Forum.

Within minutes we are standing next to a couple skeletal columns, vestiges of the fabled Decumanus Maximus, the East-West road of the city. "Unfortunately, not much remains of our Roman structures," Sandra apologizes. "Nearly every stone was repurposed in the construction of churches and other buildings in the centuries that followed. On that note, let's continue to Zadar's three most important holy sites." For me, the massive 12th Century St. Anastasia Cathedral, the largest religious building in Dalmatia, is easily upstaged by the pre-Romanesque St. Donatus. But our focus is going to be St. Mary's convent, built in 11th century and belonging to an order of Benedictine nuns. Inside, a trove of religious reliquaries shield limbs of various saints and an enormous stash of ritual vessels are called "the gold and silver of Zadar." "Now I want you to have a taste of the people's city," says Sandra. She leads us to the crowded municipal market filled with colorful stalls of produce, fresh fish and olive products, past tables piled with locally made lace, to Bibich Wine Shop, where some of us sample their famous Maraschino liqueur, a great apértif to precede our scheduled lunch at Michelin-rated Fosa. The airy restaurant is a stone's throw from the city's Land Gate, overlooking a secluded harbor. Fosa is renowned for fresh seafood specialties, and we can't resist their gnocchi filled with shrimp and mussels, followed by grilled sea bass, the house specialty.

Leaving Dalmatia behind, I glance at my fellow travelers as our bus speeds north toward the Opatija Peninsula. Several are sound asleep, probably in a food coma induced by our grandiose lunch. My guidebook is open to the pages describing Opatija, Croatia's original resort town, the epicenter of the multicultural Istrian Peninsula that developed in the 19th century and became fashionable almost overnight. Situated on Kvarner Gulf, 18 kilometers southwest of Rijeka, Opatija was launched by Austro-Hungarian elites who came to summer on its beautiful gulf. It is renowned for its Belle Epoque architecture and a 12-kilometer coastal promenade that winds between Opatija and Volosko. Here, the bay water is so translucent that one can often count the very pebbles on the sea floor. At the Milenij Hotel Agava, a former villa dating from the turn-of-the-century, we happen to land one of its largest rooms, complete with a small balcony overlooking the sea. "I'm so glad we're not driving," my husband remarks on our late afternoon stroll. "There is not a parking spot to be had anywhere." We are quickly drawn to a popular spot on its Lungomare Promenade. Here, as if rising from sea spray, Opatija's most famous statue, the iconic "Madonna del Mare," is a memorial to tragic death. Today's statue is a duplicate of the original, but outfitted with reflectors to keep wayward sailboats away during storms. Two young lovers seated on a bench overlooking the scene are staring intently at the Madonna. Overcome by her power, they turn to each other and lock in a passionate embrace, oblivious to all the smiling tourists around them.
    

    
For a final outing we head toward Moscenicka, a remote mountain village where time has stood still. We are the sole vehicle on the narrow winding road that leads toward our destination. Making good time, the bus suddenly pulls into an empty field opposite the town. We follow Jelena single file on twisting back streets to be warmly greeted at every turn by locals sitting on their stoops. At least a dozen sleeping cats are soaking up the afternoon sun. Well-tended potted plants are bursting with spring bloom. We're heading to the local folk museum, the pride and joy of the community. Here, displays of vintage kitchen and farm implements exemplify yesteryear's rustic lifestyle and a rickety but still functioning olive press in an adjoining building echoes the one we experienced in Dubrovnik. As a final gesture, tastes of at least half a dozen flavors of grappa are passed around, guaranteeing that many of us will be sound asleep on our return ride to Opatija.

The bus stops suddenly just outside the town, giving those who are awake and curious an opportunity to explore Opatija and grab a bite. To commemorate our last night in Croatia, we repeat a favorite meal from Zagreb: char-grilled lamb cevapi with a side of fries and icy beer. "Tomorrow we're leaving extra early," my husband reminds me. "We'll be passing through Slovenia before crossing into Italy toward Venice." "This sure has been one sensational trip," I sigh, delighted that my Croatian dance friend turned us on to her remarkable ancestral country!