Plan B. I am still moving to Croatia. I'm buying a yacht and spending my time island hopping and relaxing in the beautiful coastal towns, eating delicious fresh seafood, laying in the warm sun that actually gives me a tan, and swimming in the beautiful Adriatic ocean - so clear and salty I could happily float for hours.

If only I had a little more moolah...Croatians have cottoned on to what a tourism gem their country is, and prices are much higher than you would expect in Eastern Europe.

One can only dream.

This country is amazingly beautiful, the scenery ever changing. As we drive through the centre of Croatia, away from the beautiful lakes of Plitvice, I stir from my nap and find myself in a scene from a (nerd alert!) Star Wars playstation game I used to play - an otherworldly desert of rock strewn hills pierced by long concrete tunnels. And wow, is it hot.

The landscape flattens out as we approach Split. Although this portside town has been nicknamed the Flower of the Mediterranean, the plain grey communistic buildings that line the road as we enter town give nothing of this away. It's drab and ugly, although I have to say I find something kind of...honest...in the exposed concrete, the small grocery stores, the old men sitting in rickety chairs on the sidewalk smoking and staring at their corner of the world through the heat wave haze.

It gets much prettier. Split was inhabited by Venetians from 200BC to 400AD, and the old town still has a bit of an Italian feel to it in it's small winding streets and large stone pavers. I love the way the cafes and bars are worked in amongst the ruins - they place cushions on the old stairs for extra seating. There is a beautiful boulevard that runs along the port - a lovely place to sit and eat, and we do just this on our first morning here.

I see the Sail Croatia boats lined up side by side with their various tour company banners. Despite the horror stories that are told about these almost all Aussie island hopping tours - from boys throwing cups of pee on girls, to diarrhea explosions and even a severed hand resulting from some friendly bathroom action and a broken porcelain sink - still I feel a twinge of jealousy. But not to worry, there is always next year and besides, we will make our own way to two of the BEST spots (as a Croatian dorm mate later confirms): Dubrovnik aka the Pearl of the Adriatic, and the island of Hvar.

After a big night out in the portside of Split, we say a sad farewell our tourmates and head to the bus station, where we are bombarded by old ladies asking sweetly if we need accommodation. They all seem to be munching away on bread as they talk to us. Funnily enough this is also true in both Dubrovnik and Hvar...strange coincidence or bizarre selling strategy? The bus company shows our travel time to Dubrovnik as 4 hours, but in reality it takes us more than 5. Turns out it also involves a quick traipse through Bosnia, so two border checks slow us a little. I'm not too worried as the drive along the Bosnian and then southern Croatian coastline rivals the beauty of the Amalfi coast. Stunning.

We cross a giant suspension bridge to arrive in Dubrovnik at about 6pm, and a local bus takes us another ten minutes to the Old town. Dubrovnik's old town is still completely surrounded by the city walls and you can pay about 8 euro to walk around all 2 kilometers. The streets are small and winding - flat toward the ocean, or up incredibly steep steps inland toward the hill that overlooks the city.

The old town is not all that large and the population has rapidly dropped in the last few decades. A lot of this is owing to the war - Dubrovnik experienced a heavy siege which saw nearly 70% of the buildings damaged despite the UNESCO flags waving from many of the buildings. It's impossible to tell now, it has been completely repaired.

We walk through the Pile gate, past the bell tower and down the marble path which is so polished by hundreds of years of feet that we watch a little girl being towed along easily by her father as though she was wearing rollerblades. It's just three streets down to our lovely little apartment.

We have just caught the end of the summer festival in Dubrovnik, so after dinner we take a stroll along the water and through the softly lit marble and stone streets, and then reach the main square to listen to a free performance by the Slovenian Philharmonic Orchestra and a very talented Baritone. Not a bad welcoming committee!

Dubrovnik isn't known for it's nightlife, and while we did venture out a little it was a nice place just to relax and let our livers recover. So our next few days are spent sleeping (a lot), eating (had the most delicious dinner of sea bass and white wine) and swimming. We dive into the ocean off the rocks at Buza cafe, a well known swimming spot, and also walk about 10 minutes out which gives an amazing view looking back at the old town as we lay in the sun on a small pebble beach. Despite the pebbles - one of the nicest beaches we've found in Europe.

After three nights, we bus it back to Split, and jump on a Jadrolinja catamaran for the one hour trip to the party island of Hvar.

As we pull into port and navigate past the bread chewing ladies, we gawk at the giant yachts moored all along the boardwalk. The grandest of the lot is the Andusa 2, and we wonder what happened to Andusa 1. All of them are beautiful, as are the young women who sit on them with old fat men (cliche, but true). We walk past a tiny 'beach' framed by a pretty Franciscan monastery, and up one of Hvars many hills, panting and sweating in the heat - luckily our hostel is just a short walk from the centre of town.

The next couple of days go like this.

A sleep in, then into town for lunch and icecream. We try to do a little shopping, but it's expensive and all we end up with is a new pair of sunnies for Mark - about his sixth pair as he keeps breaking them with his fat head (ha!). So this time he invests in some quality, dark tinted Polarized sunnies. As we stroll along the pier and past the beach he puts them on and with a big grin asks if I can see his eyes.

"Mark, I don't have to see your eyes to know where you're looking"

Like alot of Europe, bikini tops are optional in Hvar.

The afternoons are spent at Hula Hula beach bar, laying on sunbeds enjoying a perfect day of sunshine and a few expensive drinks until the beach party starts at about 5pm. Bit of pop culture: this is where Beyonce announced her pregnancy. Together now - "Oooooh, aaaaah". We watch the most amazing sunset here..definitely kicked Ibiza's Cafe Del Mar's ass.

We grab some dinner - reasonably cheap and tasty seafood - and then the fun begins.

Our hostel is great, mostly due to the other guests. It's an international crowd and everyone is happy to chat. We meet a tonne of awesome, entertaining people, and the group just naturally heads out together to sample Hvar's famous nightlife, then gathers around a late breakfast to debrief.

So we start in the hostel, have a chat and a laugh, then kick on with drinks and dancing and general craziness out in the town in bars like Nautica where the hostel helps us kick the night off with a free Jagerbomb, or in a giant club like Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem is an outdoor beach club on a small island - they shuttle you out on a free boat with questionable safety standards. There is a huge dancefloor and great music under a canopy of trees in the middle, or you can wander to the sunbeds at the ocean's edge which is lit prettily with blue lights under the water (maybe join the adventurous and go for a midnight skinny dip?!). With a 20 euro entry, it's not cheap...but it's a s***load of fun.

After 3 days and nights of this the hip pocket is starting to hurt a little - although the backpackers try their best to keep up, this is a rich man's playground. We head back to Split on the ferry with new mates Trav and Brian, feeling incredibly seedy but loving life. Croatia = win.