Coffee arrives on a tray, with a glass of water and a cream pastry, just as in Vienna. Austria-Hungary died out more than a century ago, but Opatija has never quite left its empire. This resort on the Kvarner Bay was the favourite shore of the Viennese and Hungarian aristocracy: archdukes, doctors and composers came to breathe a sea air reputed to cure all ills. Ships anchor off the coast and tenders drop their passengers at the central jetty, a few minutes' walk from the first gardens. The port call begins exactly where the spa guests' promenade once began.

Angiolina Park, cradle of a riviera

Leaving the landing, you walk past the small marina before entering Angiolina Park. It all started here: in 1844, Iginio Scarpa, a wealthy merchant from Rijeka, had a villa built by the water and surrounded it with a garden where he acclimatized plants brought back from Japan, China and South America by his merchant ships. The Japanese camellia took root so well that it became the resort's emblem. The villa, carefully restored, now houses the Croatian Museum of Tourism; its salons with painted ceilings convey the splendour of the early days. All around, more than a hundred plant species form a botanical garden where palm trees stand alongside cedars and magnolias.

Twelve kilometres at water level

The Lungomare remains Opatija's simplest and most enduring attraction. This seaside promenade, laid out at the end of the 19th century, follows the coast for twelve kilometres between Volosko and Lovran, hugging every cove and rocky point. Along the way you pass the Maiden with the Seagull, a bronze statue set on a wave-battered reef that has become the region's most photographed symbol. The path is flat, shaded by holm oaks and laurels, and dotted with stone coves where locals go down to swim as soon as the first fine days arrive. An hour's walk, in either direction, is enough to grasp the spirit of the place: the sea on one side, gardens on the other, and Mount Učka watching over the rooftops.

Imperial façades

Behind the waterfront stands the architecture that made the place famous: the Hotel Kvarner, opened in 1884, the first grand hotel on the eastern Adriatic coast, followed by a succession of villas adorned with turrets, loggias and ornate balustrades. The modest Church of St. James recalls the Benedictine abbey that gave the town its name — opatija means "abbey" in Croatian. A little higher up, the green dome of the Church of the Annunciation crowns the neighbourhood. Strolling among these façades, ice cream in hand, is like leafing through a Belle Époque album: each building still bears the name of an empress, a lily or a camellia.

Volosko, the other end of the trail

Following the coastline north, a half-hour walk leads to Volosko, a former fishing village that has kept its scale: a tiny harbour, boats moored close together and lanes climbing between stone houses. A few konobas serve squid from the bay and the catch of the day, at tables set almost on the water. The contrast with the neighbouring grand hotels is what makes the detour so appealing — two worlds thirty minutes apart, linked by the same seaside path.

At a glance

What remains of an empire

Empires pass, habits remain. As you return on board, you keep from Opatija an impression of old-world gentleness: well-tended gardens, a calm sea and façades that remember the waltzes. Few Adriatic ports of call tell so well the story of the moment Europe invented the holiday.