When I think of Croatia, what stays with me most is not the small cruise, the islands, or even the waterfalls in the national park.

It is Cavtat, a small seaside town by the Adriatic Sea.

It was not the most dramatic place I visited, but it gave me something the bigger sights did not: a rhythm of slow living. Morning swims, simple lunches, quiet afternoons, evening walks, and music in the warm night air.

Before I arrived in Cavtat, I had already seen many beautiful places in Croatia. I had stayed in Split, joined a small cruise along the coast, and visited the national park. There were boats, islands, waterfalls, old streets, and bright summer landscapes.

Everything was beautiful.

And yet, somewhere inside, I still felt that something was missing.

I had seen many views, but my heart had not quite settled. What I was looking for was not another famous place, another excursion, or another perfect photo. I was looking for a way to slow down.

Then I arrived in Cavtat, near Dubrovnik.

It was only a short taxi ride from the airport. There were restaurants, a small supermarket, a local market, a church, walking paths, the sea, and my little apartment — all within walking distance.

It was not a perfect beach paradise. The sea was clear, but because it was close to the harbour, there was sometimes a faint smell of fuel in the water. The beach was rocky, not sandy. The supermarket was small. It was not the most polished or luxurious place.

But somehow, it was exactly what I needed.

In Cavtat, I did not feel the need to keep moving. I did not want to take another boat, join another tour, or rush to another famous view. I wanted to feel a rhythm of life.

In the morning, I would wake up slowly, have breakfast, put on my bikini, and walk to the sea. I would swim for a few hours, then return to the apartment, take a shower, and hang my swimsuit on the little terrace.

The apartment was simple, but it felt like a small home. It had a kitchen, a sink, an oven, a washing machine, and enough space for ordinary daily life. There was no sea view from the window, but there was a quiet garden-like space outside.

That ordinary feeling made me happy.

Near the supermarket, local people sold seafood, olive oil, and fruit. I bought a little seafood, and more peaches and grapes than I had planned to buy. The sellers were warm and persuasive, and as a tourist, I did not always know how to say no.

So there I was, in a small kitchen by the sea, with seafood on the counter and fruit I could not finish.

Nothing I cooked was complicated. It was just fresh seafood, olive oil, lemon, herbs, and a simple lunch after swimming.

After lunch, when the sun became too strong outside, I would rest. Later, when the evening light became softer, I would go out again for a walk.

At night, the town had another kind of beauty. Along the seaside promenade, I could sometimes hear men singing in harmony, accompanied by a traditional string instrument. It felt as if someone had brought a small stage into the street. People could stop, listen, give money, or simply enjoy the music as part of the evening.

That kind of everyday culture stayed with me.

In Cavtat, I realised that slow living was not just a beautiful phrase. It could be something simple and physical.

A swim in the morning.
A simple meal at noon.
A little rest in the afternoon.
A walk by the sea in the evening.
Music in the warm night air.

It was a way of taking care of the body without making life complicated.

Recently, while working on a few Mediterranean seafood recipes for Angelina Studio, I found myself returning to that memory again.

Spaghetti alle Vongole.
Octopus, Celery and Carrot Salad.
Anchovy Vegetable Salad.

These simple seafood recipes are not only about food. They remind me of that small kitchen, that rocky beach, that local market, and the feeling of living gently by the sea.

Sometimes, healthy eating while travelling does not need to be complicated.

Sometimes, taking care of ourselves begins with fresh air, a little movement, simple cooking, and enough time to breathe.

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