Faraway Adriatic island
As the song More by Meri Cetinić echoed in front of the Church of St. Peter, the patron saint of fishermen in the town of Ubli on Lastovo Island, I was overwhelmed by emotions. All the happenings on this magical island culminated in an endless polyphonic prayer to the sea by locals gearing up for the traditional fish festival.
And the sun that shines so brightly above you
And the seagulls that fly above you
And the intoxicating smell of pine trees
All the grace
You gave to us
You gave us eternal love
You gave us happiness
And we thank you, sea.
Sea, sea
Sea, sea
Sea, sea
Oh, dear sea.
I felt a profound admiration and gratitude for the people of Lastovo, who offered me a window into their world. Thanks to them, I have been uncovering their customs bit by bit on this faraway Croatian island.
This article is a somewhat self-critical insight into the tourist industry that I am part of. This industry has the disastrous potential to break the fragile balance between the interests of locals and visitors.
As I write this, I think about my role as a tourist (a “furešt”), who only visits the island during the summer tourist season. Despite my promises, I have not yet made it to the legendary Lastovo “Poklad”. That is why this article is a somewhat self-critical insight into the tourist industry that I am part of. This industry has the disastrous potential to break the fragile balance between the interests of locals and visitors. We often blame tourism destination organisations for the repercussions of mass tourism, even on rangers in national parks. But what about the responsibilities of us, tourists? What is our impact or our legacy? Do we leave destinations and islands in a better or worse state?
Glimpses from Lastovo
Here are some of the glimpses I wrote about during my last visit to Ladesta.
Glimpse 1: Less is more, according to Mr. Tihomir
Since 2016, Tihomir and his family have been managing one of the most unusual Robinson-Crusoe-like camps in the Adriatic. The Zaglav cove, once an army zone under the strict supervision of the Yugoslav National Army, is now a beloved area for campers who cherish a primordial connection with nature and peace above all else.
The camp only has 26 lots – a number Tihomir set himself. In tourism, we refer to this as the maximum carrying capacity, but in this case, it reflects the owner’s desire to preserve the pristine surrounding nature. As he says, he has already been approached by affluent investors hoping to turn the peaceful camp into a glamping house resort. He turned them down without a second thought. Tihomir stays loyal to his vision and idea. Hence, it is unsurprising that the camp is already sold out for 2026, a year in advance. The iconic, handwritten ledger of reservations has become a nearly mythical item for all of us who stay here year after year and a part of the ritual. Most of us have been coming back since the camp opened. We are not looking for electricity or digitalised comfort; we come seeking something priceless: the quietness and chats with Tihomir, Ivan and the rest of the team who gladly work with locals and allow them to enter the camp to sell their fresh bread, ripe fruit, vegetables and homemade desserts.
This is a circular economy in effect – an example of tourism that gives back to the community, not exhausting it endlessly.
Not least, Tihomir’s approach protects a slice of unspoilt nature before the unstoppable monster named apartment growth. This beast has been wanting to reach Lastovo with its tentacles, too. For now, it’s been unsuccessful. It is rewarding to know some people think the same way, including Tihomir. That is why he is my silent hero of Lastovo. If only it stayed this way.
Glimpse 2: Plastic amid rows of pine trees
If you stay in a rudimentary camp, you quickly understand just how much waste is generated by two tourists alone. The amount of plastic is concerning. Yet, this also presents an untapped opportunity for guests and those working in the tourism industry.
To start with, they should consider strictly separating plastic bottles and recycling aluminium cans. These bottles and cans also have a not insignificant sales value. We must praise Lastovo for setting up waste management depots on the island. That alone is a massive leap forward. Now, stakeholders must make sure they prevent plastic waste in the first place.
This is a prime example of a quiet conflict between transit luxury and the everyday of locals.
Even among the yacht guests, who consider the Ubli port a simple stopover for refuelling and emptying their waste bins, there should be more environmental awareness. Many of them only see Ubli as a petrol station and a handy waste bin without regard to where and how to dispose of what they leave behind. Waste generated on yachts is usually packed in giant black bags where plastic, food waste, glass and metal end up together. If the garbage bins are already full, they leave their waste bags beside them. While the island doubles down on their efforts to build infrastructure to manage waste separately and keep the beaches clean, individuals with no regard for the environment destroy this balance. This is a prime example of a quiet conflict between transit luxury and the everyday of locals: the former see Lastovo as a scenic setting for weekend postcards, whereas the latter live in harmony with nature, doing everything they can to preserve it for future generations.
Glimpse 3: Oliver
“A swimming mausoleum of Oliver Dragojević,” one of the locals said when the new (or quite vintage) ferry of Jadrolinija entered the local port. The ferry that made its maiden voyage in 1997 in Japan has only recently enriched the ferry line’s fleet. This is typical local humour, but behind the facade, I could detect a sense of pride.
These ferries, crackling and rusty, smelling of kerosene and more often than not technically outdated, are, despite all the discussions – and the occasional breakdowns – an essential connection between the island and the rest of the world.
On the island of Lastovo, the Oliver ferry is more than a legend – it is a lifeline, or so the slogan of Jadrolinija goes. The ferry is the first impression when you arrive and the last farewell upon departure. It has grown dear to my heart, as the ferry Bartolo Kašić once did, and before that, the legendary Lastovo vessel. These ferries, crackling and rusty, smelling of kerosene and more often than not technically outdated, are, despite all the discussions – and the occasional breakdowns – an essential connection between the island and the rest of the world. They are a symbol of perseverance that is part of the island’s DNA. And if anyone knows how to continue even when the chips are down, it must be Oliver. The voice of the Dalmatian troubadour, without whom many things in Croatia feel odd. His absence on his anniversary is palpable. Luckily, his songs become a bridge between the coast and the island, between memory and the present. His ballads still echo among the waves and pine trees as if they were written specifically for this island.
If you love me,
I’ll give you my hand
If you love me
I’ll give you everything
I owe you
The day flies in the sky
The blue sea waves come
I love you again
Your eyes, your two gems
Glimpse 4: Kužina – the first fast food vendor on the island
“Outrageous”, explained a local whom I met in his store packed with authentic local products at Pjevor. He tried to hide his exasperation but with little success. The novel restaurant that landed in the “market hub of Lastovo” out of nowhere irritates him. “They ship everything from Split! The burger meat is just processed food, and the sardines come from Japan. The squid never even got a whiff of the Adriatic, let alone swim in it.” Even the bakery where tourists queue to get their loaf is, as he puts it, overrated. “Unheard of!” he exclaims as if a camera filming a teenage series was lurking somewhere. For locals, Kužina represents everything that goes against their nature. Above all, it represents unfair competition for the local, state-owned bakery, baking just five types of bread, all in the same colour. But the tourists? We do not complain. Most of us cannot afford to dine daily in the pretentious restaurants in Zaklopatica or Skrivena Luka that cater to obnoxiously rich yachters. Here and there, a quick fix in the form of a greasy, grilled burger served on a faux wood board with a newspaper-like wrapping does the job. Yet again, would it be that groundbreaking if the same fast food restaurant served at least one local dish? Perhaps an octopus salad, grilled sardines or at least real Dalmatian bread with some soul? Only a day after I visited Kužina, the locals rolled up their sleeves and showed who was boss at the local fish festival. The air was permeated with the scent of fish stew. The festival was loud, accompanied by the rhythm of folklore groups and a distinct smell of smoke and fire. The improvised fish stew competition was a place to try, taste, and toast with friends, but also to argue about who put too much onion and even more olive oil in theirs. Kužina seemed a distant memory then, although physically close.
Glimpse 5: The fish market that gave the island its sea spirit back
Just a few steps from Kužina, the new fast food place, visitors will find a hidden gem – the first proper fish market on Lastovo. Paradoxically, this is the first fish market on an island with a centuries-long fishing tradition. Here, where fish swam by tourists en masse, not that long ago. Whoever wanted a fresh catch had to know someone who knew someone who was the cousin of a fisherman. The irony? Lastovo once owned one of the largest companies for fish production in the Adriatic. Today, the fish market is managed by Stefanie and Ante Čihoratić. The young, smiling couple, with a knack for business, opened a place that is more than a fish market. Located in the former factory, the place is a meeting point, where locals and tourists alike come for gastronomical inspiration and to admire the local fishing renaissance.
Located in the former factory, the place is a meeting point, where locals and tourists alike come for gastronomical inspiration and to admire the local fishing renaissance.
Stefanie, an Australian whose father comes from Lastovo, slowly fell in love with her father’s home island, and then found herself a second love – Ante. After marrying in 2015, they have been writing a story that differs noticeably from the island’s drowsy nature. Inside their fish market, visitors will find fresh catch of the day, marinated specialities, local tuna, clams, shellfish and squid. Beyond that, their little slice of the sea offers smiles, invigorating conversations and something priceless: the feeling that you are part of a community. The story of the Čihoratić couple is not only romantic – it is synonymous with the life that still throbs beneath the canopies of pine trees and stone houses. The Sunday masses are usually packed with youth, and the summer season brings life and new ideas for the future. In the winter, of course, serenity comes in as in other places where the rhythm is dictated by nature.
For us tourists, Stefanie and Ante did something revolutionary – they gave the fish back to the people, quite literally.
The slice of the sea that remained reserved for fancy restaurant-goers in Zaklopatica, where they paid 30 or more EUR for overcooked fish, is now available for all islanders. Now, even campers can enjoy a fish dinner on the most stunning natural beaches in the Adriatic. The (re)opening of the fish market was an act of democracy. If there is a right to breathe fresh air, there should be a right to eat fresh fish, too, at least in places where the sea is not just a backdrop for sharing social media posts.
Glimpse 6: The Guardian syndrome
I read The Guardian regularly. I cherish the in-depth articles. But after reading an intriguing report from Mary Novakovich about Lastovo, I felt an odd sensation. Not because of her reporting – the article is warm, poetic, exuding almost a mythical respect for the island’s serenity – but because the article has dangerous potential: too many people at the wrong time. You know what comes next: first the readers will flock here, followed by influencers and the jet skis. Now that Lastovo has become Guardian-approved, the story that locals fear might happen: this island where nature pulls all the strings might turn into a new version of Vis Island. I have nothing against Vis. However, when tourism gets out of hand, there is no turning back. Truth be told, my concern is selfish. I want Lastovo to remain as it is when I first saw it – when I stepped into another dimension. I hope that its nature remains the master, not a background for photos with cute filters. Luckily, there are “nature keepers” from the public institution Park Prirode on Lastovo Island. This quiet, dedicated team, equipped with know-how, armed with perseverance and donning hiking boots, has been making sure the island remains the home of over 700 species of plants, 15 endemic species, 53 endangered plants, 250 species of sea flora, posidonia seaweed and bats that are not afraid to live hand in hand with the locals. But this story is not unique. The Guardian syndrome is not a disease but a warning. The article can raise awareness, but it can also open doors. I am thus wary about what comes next. Read more here: https://www.theguardian.com/travel/2025/may/14/croatia-lastovo-archipelago-island.
Glimpse 7: Light pollution
The bay of Pasadur saw the arrival of the Vibrant Curiosity yacht, the most prized gem of the founder of the Würth empire. Reinhold Würth, the lord of screws and art collections, “elegantly” parked it next to the shore for an entire week. The yacht played host to a slew of parties, with the private Eurocopter helicopter having to fly daily from the yacht’s cavernous helicopter deck. Fun? Sure. Luxury? Undoubtedly. But I have never before been so bothered by light pollution.
Lastovo is one of the last natural planetariums in Europe. Once night falls, a miracle happens: the night is not only illuminated by a thousand stars, but it is allowed to breathe. Thanks to its remote locations, rare light pollution and clear air, the island is one of the last natural planetariums in Europe.
We only realised how bright the yacht shone after its spectacular departure, when the unmissable night spectacle was restored to its full glory. The sky opened up, the shooting stars could be seen again, and cosmic equilibrium was restored. If Lastovo is a natural park, its night sky should be protected, too. Regulating the illumination of yachts should become the norm, not just because of tourists who want to see stars without filters, but to protect nature, birds, bats and the natural rhythm of the ocean.
Glimpse 8: A paradise with a military past
The former Yugoslav National Army might be one of the reasons the island is such a precious gem today. During former Yugoslavia, Lastovo was under the control of the army. They disregarded the tourist potential and the centuries-old fishing tradition. A part of the expansive army infrastructure has remained, including the well-built island roads that connect Ubli with Lastovo and lead to Skrivena Luka and the highest point on the island, Hum. The island is also well supplied with fresh water thanks to the NPKL water distribution system (Neretva – Pelješac – Korčula – Lastovo).
However, for the most part, the vast military facilities are decaying. It is hard to watch the helpless buildings collapse. The former hotel in the heart of Ubli presents an ideal opportunity for investing in a boutique hotel, but remains an empty shell.
The locals don’t always speak of the former army in a positive tone. Yet, they do admit the crumbling infrastructure has some potential, as does “dark tourism” they are starting to develop, albeit with some caution and unease. Perhaps they can take inspiration from Western nations that do not shy away from sharing the darker periods and stories of their history. They know how to interpret and include them in their tourist offerings. In this light, Lastovo is a gigantic open-air museum. Alas, this potential remains untapped.
Glimpse 9: LA!UVO!
If you find yourself in Lastovo, you must visit two exceptional women creating wonders in a tiny shop, doubling as their office in the heart of the island. Andreja Dodig and Lucija Simić, who run the Association for the Visibility of the Island of Lastovo, a co-op that connects 13 members who nurture a special love for the island. Although this year, they won’t be organising their festival, Lastovo – the Music Island, they remain devoted to Lastovo and active in their actions. Their boutique store is home to unique, humorous and somewhat outlandish shirts designed by Andreja, a Zagreb-based architect with a distinct artistic style. By purchasing their products, you not only buy an original souvenir, but also take home a piece of the island with you. At the same time, you help support the Association with your purchase (or donation). The absence of the festival is palpable – it was one of the most authentic and inspiring summer events in the Adriatic archipelago. Yet, the spirit of creativity, community and the island lingers on – in the form of LA!UVO!.
Glimpse 10: LA!VIRUS!
Cinema Mediterraneo is like a friendly virus that creeps under your skin – infectious in the best sense of the word. It makes you eagerly await evenings when the projector begins playing films in the courtyard of the local school.
Once the lights go out, the mistral wind stops blowing, the crickets go silent, and the only thing you hear is an elderly lady living above the makeshift cinema, you quickly slip into the parallel world of the film.
The next morning, when you savour a coffee in the Kokolo Bar in Pasadur and you relive the best moments of the film, the world seems softer, warmer, more beautiful and more sensible. At that moment, this island of stone, dotted with hills, karst fields and quiet bays and coves, suddenly becomes the centre of the universe.
The Adriatic archipelago - the cash cow of Croatia
It seems there is no end in sight for tourist reports dished out by media outlets at the beginning of August. Every year, again and again, we see them in the form of counting foreign tourists’ arrivals and evaluating the tourist season as if it were a report on war casualties.
The story has been repeating itself this year, spinning endlessly. Unwillingly, I am a part of this story. This endless rhythm of reporting can result in tourists becoming anathema to locals, as has been the case in metropolises. I am against such hatred. What I want to learn is how we can transform tourism from a transactional model into a transformative model.
My glimpses are a reflection of my impressions of my dream island. I am driven to visit this island because of a selfish wish – to go where no other tourists venture. Yet, I am just a part of this show as much as anyone else – an ideal tourist. I do wonder, though, how I can become a more responsible tourist. What can I do to leave a destination in a better state than before my arrival? How do I become more than an attendee of an “authentic” show put on by the locals?
Only a handful of destinations have found a solution to this dilemma. One of them is Copenhagen with its project CopenPay. The concept of the project is simple, yet effective: tourists who opted for sustainable modes of transport and acted responsibly were rewarded with free admission to cultural and historical landmarks. In just four weeks of the pilot project, the bike usage soared by 29%. Tonnes of waste were removed from the city streets during those weeks. This year, the program has grown three times, showing this is an initiative with tremendous influence.
At least in Zaglav, we are a community that would be delighted and proud to partake in a similar initiative. We would be eager to clean up all the plastic, wood and garbage that floats to the shoreline on the Sito beach and other less popular beaches, help in the daily waste separation and recycling of collected waste, cut down the bushes that have been overgrowing the former army buildings and help local farmers grow their vegetables and fruit. We would also be willing to restore the traditional dry stone walls, pave new paths around quaint towns or organise local workshops for new visitors to raise awareness about sustainable development and preserving the island’s natural and cultural heritage. In exchange, the local community would show us authentic stories and experiences, inviting us to visit the Poklada festival and experience other traditions that are still observed in rare places.
These are the sprouts of regenerative tourism that could easily be implemented on such islands, which are naturally limited and sensitive places that offer ideal conditions for developing pilot projects.
However, such activities demand many soft skills – communicating with visitors, organising educational programmes, empowering the local community and strengthening respect and tolerance. It may sound like a utopia, but such visions can lead to real change. These are the sprouts of regenerative tourism that could easily be implemented on such islands, which are naturally limited and sensitive places that offer ideal conditions for developing pilot projects.
After such lovely dreams, I wake up to a cruel reality, while reading an article published in the Slovenian Dnevnik newspaper (Saturday, 2 August 2025): “Slovenian tourism achieved an 8% growth and an increase in overnight stays. Most of the guests come from abroad, especially Germany, Italy and Austria. Among tourist hotspots are Ljubljana, Piran and Bled. There has also been an increase in visitor numbers in mountainous destinations and Nova Gorica, the European Capital of Culture.” The author of the article, Vesna Levičnik, also outlined: “The tourist development in Slovenia is advancing in line with sustainable guidelines…”
A word of warning (if you really need one): My introspection is neither a pathetic tourist guide to Lastovo, nor an analytical insight into the tourism industry, let alone an attempt to idealise faraway Adriatic islands and their communities. This article is only a disorderly train of thought I wrote somewhere between the mistral wind and the evening arrival of Oliver. This article has a hidden call to action: to be more respectful and to show compassion for those arriving and those departing. Perhaps this article might even push some to adopt a higher, regenerative approach. What about my love for the Lastovo state of mind? Endless, of course.
Author: Gorazd Čad
