Home comforts

Renting a house or a flat for a holiday can be a leap in the dark. What can you reasonably expect to find in your home away from home? How much are you expected to lug from your own house if you're flying with a stingy baggage allowance? I've had a few experiences in recent years that have either restored my faith in humanity or made me want to bash some heads together. I have a lot of admiration for the two young travel writers involved in the Gran Tourismo project (grantourismotravels.com), in which they're spending a whole year staying in self-catering accommodation. While it's a fun and glamorous thing to do, you do end up missing the strangest things.

Little touches make all the differences. Last summer I rented a studio flat in Antibes that was only seconds away from the beach. The English owners, Louise and Paul, thoughtfully leave beach towels, a beach bag and even a sun parasol for their guests. And, unlike some owners, they're very happy for people to leave food behind for the next guest. (What does happen do all those half-drunk bottles of milk and partially used tubs of margarine?) Louise and Paul also provide fresh flowers and keep the store cupboard stocked with cooking essentials such as olive oil. That's one of those things you can't take for granted. (Their property is at www.holiday-rentals.co.uk/83543. I recommend it heartily.)

The little flat I rented in Dubrovnik this past spring (see earlier post below) was remarkably well equipped for such a small place. There was even a kettle, which, as most British travellers will know, is a rare as hen's teeth in the self-catering world. What I liked especially was the bottle of Croatian brandy left on the sideboard. I kept to the unspoken agreement to have just one tot and leave the rest for the next tenants. (That wasn't too difficult, as the brandy wasn't a patch on my uncle's homemade firewater. But you get my point.)

Sometimes you have to think creatively. A flat I rented in Corsica had fantastic views of the sea and the mountains from the balcony, but no table. That made eating out there a bit awkward. Luckily someone had dumped a load of small dusty café tables just around the corner, with no obvious owner in sight. Surely they wouldn't mind if I borrowed a table for the week. I returned the table at the end of my stay, but I did make a point of telling the tour operator that the owner really should provide one himself.

There are times, though, when luck isn't on your side. A couple of winters ago I was in Italy staying in a hotel's new self-catering annex, which was considerably larger than a standard hotel room. In exchange for the space I got a completely empty kitchen. Not a cup, nor a spoon – just empty cupboards. I had my travel kettle and mini espresso pot (well, I was in Italy) but I pleaded with the manager to lend me some cups and cutlery from the restaurant. Nothing doing. I bought cups and nicked some teaspoons from a nearby café. (That's two admissions of theft in one blog.) I left with a bitter feeling and was furious that the manager didn't think anything was wrong about not letting guests know about the state of the accommodation. "That's what happens in Italy," he told me. "Everyone brings their own things." That's utter rubbish and completely at odds with my own experiences of self-catering in Italy. A word of advice: don't rely on the hotel's website to tell you what's in the kitchen. Ask beforehand.

Trapped in Dubrovnik

I've spent a lot of time in the countries that make up the former Yugoslavia, but I'd never had the chance to visit Dubrovnik until last month. Yes, I know it's a major oversight for a travel writer not to have visited the "Jewel of the Adriatic", especially a writer whose parents were born in Croatia. But I finally managed to squeeze in three days there while doing some travel writing in next-door Montenegro. And I have to say I was left disappointed.

I couldn't shake off the feeling that Dubrovnik existed for one reason only: to process as many tourists as possible before chucking them out and waiting for the next batch to come in from the cruise liners and tour coaches. Plenty of cities function in a similar way, but I felt that this desire to wring tourists dry pervaded the air of Dubrovnik. Its undeniable beauty is breathtaking but it's soulless.

It's not a particularly expensive place if you're used to London prices. Gorgeous plates of fresh seafood can be had for less than £10 each. (Try Lokanda Peskarija by the harbour or Kamenice in the market square, both in the walled old town.) And the biggest bargain was the flat we rented from Holiday Rentals (www.holiday-rentals.co.uk/p96216), which charged only €165 for three nights for a small but well-equipped one-bedroom flat right in the old town. You can do Dubrovnik on the cheap if you rent a place of your own. But saving money isn't particularly my point.

What annoyed me was the disorganised way the various tourist bodies went about their business. The tiny tourist office just off Stradun, the old town's main street, had no knowledge of timetables or fares for the boats that head off to the many surrounding islands. You have to go to all the separate quaysides for that. I had done a lot of research and I speak the language, and I still couldn't get the information I needed. It was only April, but staff were already grumpy. (I'd hate to see them in the height of summer.) And the so-called Tourist Centre near an entrance to the old town is merely a collection of shops, neatly confusing people who naturally assumed they could pick up some tourist brochures for free.

It's a city with many museums and attractions, almost all of which charge admission. No problem with that. After all, they have to pay for the maintenance of these historically vital sites. But most cities have some sort of city pass that combines admission for selected museums and even transport. If Dubrovnik has such a pass, it was doing its best not to advertise it.

I had booked three nights, thinking that wouldn't be enough time to see everything, as well as an island or two. Two nights would have been more than enough. The highlights were the time spent away from Dubrovnik, namely in the pretty village of Cavtat further along the coast and the island of Lokrum, a short boat ride away. A spell of bad weather put paid to boat trips to more distant islands.

The city has many fans, I know, but I'm afraid I'm not one of them. Does anyone have a more heartening experience of the place? I'd like to know.