We woke up to the dreadful news that a suicide bomber had blown himself up in the foyer of an Ariana Grande concert in the Manchester Arena, at the moment people were leaving the venue. Nineteen young people had been killed (which sadly rose to 22)  half of which were under twenty, with the youngest being an eight year old girl.

Stunned into silence we began our day on auto-pilot, with breakfast on the balcony.

We couldn't spend another day doing nothing, so for today we planned an excursion to the nearby city of Budva. Not wanting to move the car we decided to catch the bus. Yesterday we noticed people catching a small shuttle bus from outside restaurant Famelja Kentera around 10am so we aimed for that.

With only a €50 note in my pocket we had a coffee at the restaurant, so we could break into the cash and have some small change for the bus driver.

Once we finished, and stepped out into the road, the bus was coming down the hill. I hailed it down because I don't think we were at an official bus stop. Thankfully things were still done old school here and he pulled over.

It cost us €1.50 each one-way to Budva.

The bus left Sveti Stefan through a park called Miločer. Somewhere deep in the park was a villa with a private beach which was also part of the exclusive Aman hotel group.

We travelled along the coast, through Pržno, with its pretty bay, then passing Kamenovo beach. The area increasingly became more built up with the high-rise hotels of the "Budva Riviera" as we drove through Bečići before reaching Budva. 

We were unsure of where to get off, but needn't have worried. Budva was the end of the line so when it came to a stop and everyone got off, we knew we had arrived.

Next, we didn't really know where we were. Even looking at Google maps didn't help us get our bearings. From the bus stop the passengers dispersed but we spotted a tour guide leading her group.

"They'll be going to the old town" I said, so we followed them. It was a good call.

As soon as we saw the walls of the fortified the Stari Grad old town we left the tour group (before we got charged!) and stopped for a coffee. I was almost tempted into having cake, but I had a cappucino, which was sweet enough .

We sat outside and people watched for while before moving on. 

The thick walls of the 17th century Venetian old town looked formidable, five metres tall, two metres thick. On the North West corner was the Gradenigo tower, a defensive lookout against attacks from the land.

Whilst there was a main gate it was noticable there wasn't a grand entrance. Such a large opening would have made it vulnerable to being breached. Instead there were a few small doorways to get inside. 

We entered through what was called the Iron Gate, straight into the labyrinth of narrow alleyways . We had no idea where we were going but it didn't matter. It was a joy to wander around aimlessly.

Our first square of note we came to was known as the Square of Poets. I'm not sure why it had a stone carving of the Greek letter and famous mathematical symbol for pi. (π) It was certainly more science and scholarly than artistic and creative.

Some how we found ourselves in the Starogradski Square , ofter called the Square of Churches where four churches were built within a stone's throw of each other.

The first one we saw was the Church of Santa Maria in Punta. It was nestled in between other buildings. It was once part of a monastery. A church has stood on this spot since 840 AD but being in an area prone to earthquakes it has inevitably been rebuilt several times.The delicate bellfry, with a brick arch stacked above another two, I imagine would have been prone to collapsing.

We continued up the steps, towards the small Church of St. Sabbas the Sanctified, built right on the edge of the wall. We joined those admiring the view from the ramparts above the rocky beach below, although Julie refused to sit on the wall like some were doing.

The view was sensational. The colour and clarity of the water was extraordinary.

Whilst I took some photos Julie went looking for some shade. Only I didn't hear nor see her leave. Once I had finished I turned around to see she had gone!

I decided to stay put and wait to be found. It was the right choice. After wondering why I was taking so long Julie came looking for me.

Reunited we returned down the steps to the Church of the Holy Trinity, an Orthodox church built in 1804. It had a similar three arched bellfry, complete with three bells. Inside was dark but we could see all the icons painted on the walls done in the orthodox way.

Next came the Church of St. Ivan, with it's 36m tall bell tower rising high above the entire city. The tower was built in 1867. However, it's believed the church was built over an original 7th century church. Most of what stands today was constructed in the 17th century, during the city's golden era under the Venetians.

Eventually we ended up at the Citadel, a fortified castle within the city walls. We climbed the steps to be greeted by a woman dressed in traditional 17th century costume. She gave us the spiel about the place, most of which I didn't catch. But I did hear quite cleary the entrance fee of €2.50.

She told us the city museum was inside but we never found it. Not that we looked very hard. Instead we climbed to the upper levels of the castle drawn by the desire to get to the top of the tower.

"What is it with you and high places?" asked Julie. Oh, how we laughed as we reminisced about getting stuck up a minaret in Mostar!

Our efforts were rewarded with a stunning view of the Church of St. Sabbas the Sanctified. The familiar colour scheme, repeated up and down the Adriatic coast, of pale limestone, red clay tiles and the azure waters was a beautiful sight.

There was also a great view over the Square of Churches with St. Ivan and the Holy Trinity, then over the rooftops of the old town, on to the modern city on the bay.

Looking South, down the coast we could see the Island of Sveti Nikola and the church of the same name on the sandy beach. The island was nothing more than a rock in the sea, like a miniature rock of Gibraltar.

Having seen all there was to be seen we made our way back down the steps, chosing not to seek out the museum and it' 2500 year history of Budva. We opted to leave the citadel.

Back in the cobblestone streets we caught a whiff of a bakery. Breakfast felt like so long ago we popped inside to see what we could have to share as a snack. We came out with this delicious spinach börek. Warm pastry is a thing of beauty.

We retraced our steps, back out through the Iron Gate and walked towards a small sandy beach nearby.

Ričardova Glava beach had a lovely view of the old town, but we continued walking, underneath this huge hotel's swimming pool jutting out over the beach.  How on earth did they get planning permission for that?!

The path continued, hugging the cliffs, walking over the rocks and the sea on a well-maintined boardwalk. We came across a beautiful bronze statue of a dancer in a graceful position, standing tiptoe on a rock, back arched, holding her right leg behind her, and her left arm reaching for the sky.

There are many legends that have been invented to give the statue a back story, such as she's a ballerina waiting in vain for her sailor partner to return from the sea.

Or she in memory of a gymnast who perished when her boat crashed onto the rocks.

Or another tells of a local couple swimming off the coast where they become victims of a shark attack. The woman survived, returning to this spot every day to commune with her partner.  

Sculptor Gradimir Aleksić never discussed his inspiration for what must have been his greatest work. 

We carried on a little further around the corner until we could see Mogren beach. It looked idyllic, a beautiful place to spend the afternoon, but we didn't feel like doing that. Without towels or swimming costumes we hadn't come prepared.

So we decided we weren't going to bother walking all that way.

Our way back along the boardwark was punctuated with frequent stops to photograph the UNESCO World Heritage site.

It was the view centuries old. The citadel, at the end of the old town, looking impregnable, as a lump of rock and the bell tower of St. Ivan's church standing tall above it all.

After reaching the ancient walls we continued walking to the marina and along the promenade where there were a number of cafes and beach clubs. We were looking for some where for lunch but none of them appealed to us, especially the one where all the staff were wearing sea captains uniforms!

We stopped at another one to have a drink and research TripAdvisor for lunch recommendations.

We narrowed it down to a restaurant called Portun, inside the city walls. Entering through Pizzana Gate, it was straightforward to find. It was a tiny little restaurant, with only two tables outside in the street. It did of course have tables inside but we had to make the most of the chance to eat alfresco

The friendly waiter welcomed us and handed out the menus. I had one meat-free dish to choose, a mushroom risotto. A limited choice isn't a bad thing as long as they execute it well. The risotto came with added cream which wasn't my favourite. 

The waiter also suggested I should try the dips. "It is made from home" he said "my brother, from Serbia, he makes it."

He continued to proudly explain the process of making ajvar.  "The pepper is roasted for twelve hours. Also the aubergine. It's then put into a jar with salt and olive oil." 

It sounded delicious. So I had to order it.

It arrived with pieces of bread, and mixed with feta cheese to push the flavour even further. It was stunning.

He also recommended the garden salad. "I pick up the vegetables from a monastery high in the hills" he added, starting to sound like he was exaggerating a little.

Whilst Julie really enjoyed her prawns she was struggling to get at the meat. She's not one for getting her hands dirty. Being the gallant knight that I am, I offered my services to dehead, de-shell and de-vein them. She was grateful.

I also had a mushroom risotto for my main course. Once again it came with added cream which I personally found overpowered the dish.

When we finished the waiter brought out a free "sample" of their dessert, an apple strudel. It was an odd thing to do. We'd never been to restaurant where they did that. The pie was nice but not enought for us to order a full portion.

Before we paid our bill, he asked us to rate the restaurant on Trip Advisor. I then mentioned to him that he forgot to serve the garden salad. He was mortified and insisted on fetching it. I insisted he didn't.

Back outside the walls we stood by a large bell. I read somewhere that it was a film prop, made from wood for a 1960's viking film called "The Long Ships".  We then saw the waiter running towards us.

"I bet he's bringing that flippin' garden salad!" I said.

It turned out he was fetching Julie's sunglasses she had left on the table.

We walked back to the bus stop with perfect timing. The bus for Sveti Steffan was parked up, and seconds after we boarded, we set off.

In no time we could see the small island resort in the distance. It made us realise how close Budva was. The bus followed the same route back, pulling into the town of Pržno. I tried to catch a glimpse of its pretty cove but our view was blocked by a very large casino resort.

We soon got off at the Sveti Steffan bus stop. The driver refused to take us a little further up the hill to where we hailed the bus this morning.

After picking up some supplies from the mini market we returned to our apartment.

 Stipo, the owner was in a chatty mood. We sat down and he brought out his bottle of rakija. "This is made at home" he proudly state. 

We talked for quite some time, touching on the troubled recent past in the Balkans. "It's still a problem in Bosnia" he said, which was insightful. 

The moonshine brandy was insanely strong. Julie couldn't drink her shot, so I helped her out.

The topic of conversation moved on to the weather. He got his phone out to show us a picture of Sveti Stefan last December covered in snow. I got my phone and showed him a picture of my self-built brick pizza oven!

He poured another shot. I could have stayed there all day but we made our excuses and went for a walk.

We walked up the hill towards the main road and the Hotel Adrovic. They had a rooftop restaurant and veranda, where we had a drink sat in the corner with great views over the island below and beyond.

We were amazed to see Budva's old town from here. It was less than five miles away. 

I spotted an abandoned house nearby whose flat roof was accesible from the road, so I walked onto it. "Be careful. It might not be safe" warned worst-case-scenario Julie. She had a point.

 It was derelict, but I wanted to get a clear view of the island to take a few close up photos.

It was a remarkable thought that the entire village was managed by the Aman resort, that each house was a hotel suite.

It reminded us a little of Portmeirion in North Wales, an Italian style "village" constructed as a gentleman's folly, but is possible to stay in the various cottages.   

We also noticed for the first time that there was a church in the centre of the village. Of course it was the eponymous church of St. Stefan.

We left with a heavy sigh, wishing we were staying there tonight, in the lap of luxury.

"One day" I said "One day."

Back in the apartment we had planned on having supper on the balcony again. We had some stuff left over to eat but Julie preferred to go out to a restaurant. Afterall, it was our last night in Montenegro.

Not wanting to waste what we had, I quickly made an aubergine, tomato and mozzarella stack. I planned on eating it later if I was still hungry.

After sunset we walked down to a restaurant called Droga. She had read reviews raving about their traditional "lamb under the bell". It intrigued her but she was left disappointed when we found the restaurant was closed!

Instead we returned to Familja Kentera, where we ate the day we arrived in Sveti Stefan. The waiter recognised us and was much more ameniable than he was on Saturday.

This time I avoided the spicy hot Serbian salad, and also didn't choose the stuffed aubergine because that's what I ate last time. My other choices were a risotto but I had one for lunch. So the only other option left to me was a "vegetarian" pizza. 

It arrived heavily loaded with mushrooms and raw bell peppers which wasn't exactly a good thing, and then the base was a disappointment. However, it was perfectly edible so it didn't matter.

Julie wasn't sure what to have so the waiter suggested the lamb dish. It was called Janjetina ispod peke, whihc was the famous "lamb under the bell" and we were both excited that it was an option.

 She loved the lamb, slow-roasted in a pot with the potatoes. I think it was her favourite meal of the whole trip.

The waiter brought us complimentary drinks, a sweet limoncello and a very rough raki. Stipo's homemade rocket fuel was more palatable!

There wasn't a convenient plant pot so I ended up pouring the awful raiki into what I had left of a beer. I think I got away with it!

As always, when the spirits come out, it signals the begining of the end. So we paid the bill  and walked back up to our apartment.

We put the telly on, but we didn't last long. I could sense that Julie was building up her anxiety and the sooner we got to sleep the better.