My Neighbor Has Lived in Kotor's Old Town for 40 Years. Here's What She Told Me.
I rented an apartment inside Kotor's old town walls for a week. On the second morning, the woman from the apartment across the landing — Milena — knocked on my door and handed me a plate of burek (flaky pastry with cheese). "Breakfast," she said. "The café downstairs makes terrible coffee. Come to mine."
So I did. And over the course of the week, between her kitchen and the café she said made terrible coffee (it was fine), she told me about living inside a UNESCO site for four decades.
How long have you lived in Kotor?
Since 1985. I moved here from Cetinje [Montenegro's old royal capital, 30 km inland] when I married. My husband's family has been in this building since the 1920s. Before that, it was a Venetian merchant's house. You can see the old coat of arms above the doorway — it's worn down but it's there.
When I arrived, Kotor was a small fishing town. Maybe 3,000 people inside the walls, mostly fishermen, tradespeople, a few government workers. The bay was quiet. The fortress — nobody climbed it except kids daring each other. The streets smelled like fish and coffee.
What changed?
The cruise ships started coming in the 2000s. First one or two a week. Now, in summer, four ships can dock in a single day. Ten thousand people pour into a town designed for a thousand. The streets are physically full — you can't walk from the church to the market.
I'm not against tourism. Tourism brought money that restored these buildings. My building's roof was repaired with tourism tax funds. But there's a difference between visitors who stay — who sleep here, eat here, learn the town — and passengers who have 4 hours and want a photo of the same three things.
What do you wish tourists knew?
First: Check the cruise ship schedule. I know locals who plan their grocery shopping around it. On a no-ship day, the old town is beautiful — you can hear the church bells, the cats are relaxed, the squares have room. On a four-ship day, stay away until 5PM.
Second: The fortress is not a stairmaster workout. It's a medieval fortification with 1,700 years of history. People run up for the Instagram photo and run down. Slow down. Read the plaques. Notice the Church of Our Lady of Remedy halfway up — it's from the 15th century and nobody stops.
Third: Eat outside the walls. The restaurants on Trg od Oružja [Arms Square] charge double for food that's half as good. Konoba Scala Santa inside the walls is an exception — the owner is a friend, he sources local fish. But for the best value, walk 5 minutes to Dobrota along the waterfront.
What are the hidden spots in Kotor?
The Cats Museum on Trg od Mlieka — €1 entry. Everyone sees the cats in the streets but the museum explains the history. Kotor has been a cat town for centuries. Sailors brought cats to control rats on ships, and the cats stayed.
The North Gate (Porta di Fiume) is where locals enter the old town. It has a relief of the communist-era Yugoslav coat of arms carved in 1944. Most tourists only use the Sea Gate.
St. Tryphon's Cathedral early morning — before the groups arrive. The crypt has medieval frescoes. The treasury upstairs has gold and silver reliquaries from the 13th century. €3 entry. Allow 30 minutes.
And the Škurda River canyon — walk through the North Gate and follow the riverbed north. It's a narrow gorge between the old town wall and the mountain. Wild figs grow on the canyon walls. Nobody goes there.
What's the most Montenegrin thing a visitor can do?
Sit. Seriously. Find a bench on the Riva [waterfront]. Order a coffee. Don't look at your phone. Watch the boats. Watch the cats. Watch the bay change color as the sun moves.
Montenegrin culture is about slowness. We have a joke — Montenegro's greatest invention is the siesta. In Dalmatia they call it fjaka. Here we just call it living.
Also: drink Vranac wine. It's our red grape. It's rough around the edges — like Montenegro — but honest. A glass at a local bar costs €2-3. Don't order imported wine. That's insulting.
Do you ever think about leaving?
Every July, when the cruise ships line up and I can't walk to the bakery. I think: Cetinje was quiet. Cetinje has no tourists.
But then September comes. The ships leave. The bay goes still. I make coffee on my balcony and look at the water turning from blue to silver as the sun goes down behind the mountains. And I remember why I stayed.
My building is 600 years old. The walls are a meter thick. In winter, the stone holds the cold and you need three blankets. In summer, the stone keeps the heat out and it's the coolest room in town. The roof leaks when it rains hard — and in Kotor it rains very hard — but after 40 years, I know where to put the buckets.
Would I trade this for a modern apartment with insulation and WiFi that works? No. My WiFi barely works and my neighbor is a 14th-century column. But the view from my window — the bay, the mountains, the church bell at 8AM — that hasn't changed since Diocletian sailed these waters.
Have some more burek. It's better cold.
Oh, and one thing I forgot — visit the Cats Museum on Trg od Mlieka. It's only €1. The whole place is a love letter to the cats of Kotor. The gift shop sells cat-themed souvenirs — postcards, magnets, prints. The proceeds go to the charities that care for the strays. Buy something. These cats have been part of this town since the sailors brought them centuries ago, and someone needs to keep feeding them when the tourists go home.
For practical planning, our 18 tips guide covers the fortress climb and budget. Our October guide explains why autumn is best. If you love intimate walled towns, Dubrovnik is the famous neighbor, and Cinque Terre offers a similarly compact coastal experience.
That's the thing about Kotor. It takes care of its own. Even the cats.
