Sveti Stefan: The Drama Of A Cloudy Day

I have no problem going to the beach in the rain. Gray skies often bring out another side of a beach scene, diffuse the light, and make the colors pop.

But when I woke up to dreary weather on my last day in Budva, the day we’d saved to visit Sveti Stefan, I was bummed out.

Historically, the island (now isthmus) of Sveti Stefan was a luxurious resort for golden-era Hollywood stars, drawn by the ideal blue Montenegrin waters. After a fallow period during the ‘90’s, Sveti Stefan is again a world for the well-off; the exclusive hotel that leases the island from Montenegro only allows its guests through the gates.

There was no chance I’d get onto the actual island, but it is a World Heritage Site and a glory to gaze at, and the beaches on the mainland have a great view. We planned to swim on the beaches across from Sveti Stefan, enjoy the water and the view and pretend we were fancy. The private beach chairs on the public beach were absurdly pricey, but we brought our own towels and were perfectly fine.

The rain stopped before we arrived but the effects lingered. Though the mirage of perfection wavered with the absent sun, the overcast day revealed a whole other side of Sveti Stefan.

The post-rain mist and slate gray skies muted the colors of the normally electric island, but still the scenery shone. Sveti Stefan no longer looked like the turquoise oasis I’d seen in pictures; instead it loomed, it punctuated. The darkness of the day infused the scene with drama. The resort that we were not allowed to enter seemed less like the playpen of the wealthy than some sort of Bond villain’s lair, perched majestically offshore.

We climbed the paths that connect the private beaches and the water churned light blue and navy below us. Even in flip-flops and sundresses it felt like we were spies, trying to infiltrate the enemy. All that was missing was a stylish Henry Mancini score in the background.

There was no opportunity to imitate Ursula Andress climbing out of the sea, however, as the water was far too cold on this gloomy day to swim– though a few other brave souls went for a dip. I reluctantly let go of my secret agent fantasies and sprawled out on the gray-and-pink pebble beach, noshing on fresh boiled corn.

I think my overcast day at Sveti Stefan was more evocative than perfect sun could ever be.