Ragusa

"Ragusa is a dream city by the sea - that faraway point of Austrian territory which in common with all Dalmatian towns is far more akin to Italy than to its present rulers! (p. 128). Picture to yourself one of the walled Etruscan towns of Northern Italy, only with more massive, sterner walls and towers, and set it down by the laughing waters of the blue Adriatic; add palms and flowering aloes of giant size growing wild wherever they can gain a foothold in the rocks right down to the edge of the sea, together with cacti and oleanders of every shade from purest white to deepest crimson; people it with figures more than half Oriental, with knives stuck in their belts, and cloaks rivalling in colour the crimson of the oleander blossoms, and you have Ragusa, the proud little republic of yore which never yielded even to the might of Venice in the zenith of her power, the half-Eastern, half-Western, yet unspoilt Ragusa of to-day! (p. 118).

So, let us pass together under the massive ivy-clad archway of the Porta Pile, one of the two entrances to the city. Through this gateway passes all day long a stream of life, peasants from the surrounding mountain valleys picturesquely clad. When you see a man in a red cap or turban, a gold-embroidered vest and short red jacket, with full blue knickers and Turkish-looking shoes, you will know that this gorgeous individual hails from the Breno valley, and his womenkind are just as delightful, with their gay-hued 'kerchiefs quaintly folded round their heads, so that the ends hang down behind, their finely pleated full skirts edged with a gay-coloured border, and worn short to show the white stockings beneath. Their bodices are adorned with ornaments of fine gold filigree. […]. The women of the valley of Canale are good to know by their white pleated caps; if you are acquainted with the head-dress of the peasants of the Roman Campagna, the likeness to the latter will strike you at once. The women of Herzegovina are the most un-European-looking figures imaginable, with their white veils surmounted by the tiny caps. [...]. This Oriental-looking garb suits their dark-haired Slavish type. The men of Herzegovina are less often seen in the streets of Ragusa than the women. You cannot hope to master all the intricacies of the various costumes, which differ for married and unmarried women as well as according to the station of the individual, unless you spend months in studying them, and even then when you have learnt to discriminate between the more common ones, strangers from Bosnia, Montenegro, and Albania, will come into Ragusa and puzzle you (pp. 129-131).

Perhaps you will hardly believe this as you stand at one end of the Stradone - at once the Corso and High Street of Ragusa - it looks so bright and gay with its picturesquely clad populace, its goldsmiths' and silversmiths' shops, where are fashioned the filigree ornaments, often very beautiful and costly, which the peasants wear, the rich display of Oriental wares, carpets and embroideries hung outside the shops of Albanese and Herzegovina merchants - the wide, clean, attractive street does not suggest a city whose life is past, for this is the newest of the streets of Ragusa, rebuilt after the great earthquake of 1667. You must go to the side streets to look for palaces, that are palaces no more, with balconies overhanging the narrow streets whence ladies fluttered handkerchiefs or rained flowers on their favoured knights, in olden days (p. 133)".