My vision of Dubrovnik, Croatia is pretty much the stereotypical paradise. Glorious sunshine beams down onto orange roofs, and the azure sky goes on forever.

It’s an endless maze of alleyways and marble steps.

With beaches and islands to explore.

And the perfect vantage point to observe it all from afar.

At least, that’s my memory of Dubrovnik from visiting five years ago.

It was exactly the same when I recently turned… for about 24 hours.

And then, the storm clouds descended.

As I walked the city walls (something I regretted missing on my last visit), I found myself strangely captivated by this storm.

Lightning forked out over the Adriatic, clouds shapeshifted in increasingly moody ways, and thick rain pounded the smooth stone path.

The mob of tourists ran for cover under seven hundred year old fortresses.

The island of Lokrum looked deserted.

And something about the city was just… magical.

With barely anyone else on the city walls we were free to set our own pace.

And once our clothes were soaked through, we gave up on trying to dart from awning to doorway to avoid the rain.

In usual circumstances, I’d be gutted to have a storm disrupt my few days in paradise. But in this case, I saw a side to Dubrovnik I couldn’t have seen any other way, and I loved it.

And when the storm finally broke, I was sitting in a bar in the city walls, and I almost found myself wishing it would continue.