Kotor Island Hopping: Perast Speed Date

Refreshed, albeit also bruised, from my pick-me-up swim, I headed to the marina to meet my speedboat tour to Perast. The rule follower I am, I arrived 30 minutes before the departure time—only to be told to come back five minutes before. I wandered back into the walled old town to kill some time. The place was still packed, although it seemed people were starting to return to their cruise ships for evening drinks onboard. I’d come back here for dinner later, but first, time to visit Perast.

There were seven of us onboard our two-hour speedy tour of Perast and the islands off its coast. Our sun-kissed captain welcomed us on board before quickly pushing us off the dock and speeding out into the bay. I get a bit seasick at times, so I took a seat in the front. The cool, salty breeze and the super smooth waters made seasickness a non-issue today.

The coastline on each side of the bay is flanked by tall, steel-grey mountains. There’s a single layer of buildings hugging the shoreline, maybe stretching to two houses deep at most, as the landscape doesn’t leave much room for development. Church towers rise above these tiny towns, pointing skyward over the rooftops and out to the bay. You wouldn’t have to travel far for God around here.

Our captain was speedy and followed between the wake of the boat in front of us, only darting out—bouncing over the waves—for a quick overtake. It’s a two-hour round trip and he clearly wants us to have the most time off the boat to explore.

We stopped at Our Lady of the Rocks, a small artificial island built over the centuries by local seafarers who threw rocks into the sea and even sank old ships to build it up. It’s the only island of the two that tourists can visit—unless you're clergy or getting wedding photos taken. The island is home to a Catholic church, which unfortunately slammed its doors shut just as our boat docked. No prayers from me today, it seems. I contemplated sneaking in through the back door I found later but decided breaking into a church might require more penance than I’m up for.

The captain suggested a 15-minute stop instead of the scheduled 20, to allow more time in Perast. Fifteen minutes felt a bit long with the church closed, but I circled the island, snapped some photos, checked out some topless sailors on other boats, and found a small patch of shade to sit in while I waited.

We passed by St George Island next—off-limits to tourists, yet seemingly occupied by a group of shirtless men and bikini-clad women anyway. Unless the church has changed its dress code, it seems if you have your own boat, you can get to St George—whether technically allowed or not. It was under five minutes to Perast from there, its towering church steeple the picture-perfect centrepiece of the view. We docked, and our captain gave us 45 minutes to explore.

He explained that Perast is the oldest town in Montenegro, and while I haven’t fact-checked that, it does seem plausible. He also claimed it’s a seasonal town, abandoned in winter—something that makes more sense. Then came a slightly confusing line: “Each house used to also have its own a church in the house.” That seems unlikely. More likely, he meant each household was Catholic, or closely linked to the church.

I walked the shoreline road and tried to climb higher via narrow stairs, only to hit dead ends. It seems to be a one-street town—but what a street. A luxury five-star hotel took up a big section of the foreshore, its guests shuttled around in electric golf carts. Sunbathers lounged on private decks before strolling across the road to shady courtyards in their White Lotus–esque bathrobes.

Many buildings looked abandoned, with vines creeping in and nature slowly reclaiming them. But it all added to the charm. There isn’t much to do here—eat, sit, sunbathe, repeat. And if I’d had more than 45 minutes, that’s exactly what I would’ve done. Instead, I settled for a cup of sorbet and a sit on the seawall, soaking in the view and the stillness.

When time was up, I boarded the speedboat for one last glance at postcard-perfect Perast. The cruise ships were also starting to leave, taking with them the thousands of people they’d dumped in the old town of Kotor earlier. We zipped past the final two on our way back to a noticeably quieter town. With the towering mountains starting to block out the sun, the light was perfect for dinner in the old town tonight.

I remembered to eat—always a win—and had a delicious Wienerschnitzel at a little pub in a square facing a church. Very European old-town vibes. As I finished, church bells rang out and a procession of clergy, nuns, and churchgoers wound their way through the streets, trailing the thick, unmistakable scent of incense behind them.

After dinner, I took my own little one man procession around town, stopping in a tiny square to watch an impromptu orchestra. I think it was a rehearsal—the conductor wore shorts, flip-flops, and a t-shirt. Not something you see every day. The sounds echoed off the narrow stone walls. It’s these little things—moments of art and atmosphere—that give towns like this their soul. Full of food and good vibes, I headed to bed, feeling a bit better for having done something today after all.Baca lagi