Before we had even left for Croatia, my Lonely Planet guide looked like it had gone and come back. I had read it from cover to cover and had even dropped it in the bath one night as I island-hopped from one page to the next.

The problem with having a fertile imagination coupled with a penchant for travel guides as if they're page-turning thrillers, is that few destinations can live up to my expectations.

I have to say that in the case of Croatia, however, my every dream was fulfilled. It was just as gorgeous and interesting as I hoped it would be, and I'm already fantasising about returning.

It was, in essence, the perfect destination for two grown-ups who haven't lost their wanderlust but who now have to factor in an over-excitable four-year-old and her little sister who turned one just a few days before we left. Not wanting to stay in one place all the time, nor drag the tots across somewhere too vast or foreign, we pinned all our hopes on the Dalmatian coast, and it proved a flawless choice.

Our first stop - after an affordable and easy flight from London - was the former city state of Dubrovnik. And, despite having Googled images of it from here to kingdom come before we left, I still sat gobsmacked in the bus from the airport that first night as we wound our way down the contours of the landscape, gazing upon the gigantic old ramparts and the open-air fairy castle contained within.

No vehicles are allowed in The Old Town, so we climbed off the bus just outside the Renaissance arch of the main gate and walked across the drawbridge that leads in. In days of yore, the drawbridge was lifted every evening, and the colossal key to the gate was handed to the prince. Today, it remains open as wide-eyed tourists walk through and literally gasp at their first sight of the buildings within.

Fountains, monasteries, churches and palaces - one more beautiful than the next - dominate each space and are encircled by red-roofed dwellings which seem strung together by a tangle of washing lines.

As we made our way on foot to our little apartment up one of the narrow cobbled staircases that seem to go on forever, it was already clear why so many writers have waxed lyrical about Dubrovnik.

We soon also realised, though, that the "Pearl of the Adriatic" is best enjoyed in the early morning, late afternoon and evening. In the hours between, day-trippers from all over Europe shuffle along the gleaming marble of the broad and beautiful Stradun (the main road) and cram into the little shops and restaurants in the smaller alleyways.

Luckily, many of the idyllic spots in Southern Dalmatia are an easy daytrip from Dubrovnik so we planned accordingly and enjoyed the best of both worlds.

One such daytrip is to the small island of Lokrum, a 15-minute boat ride away. As I boarded and stared at the crystal-clear water beneath, I felt a surge of excitement. Here I was, in Croatia, with my husband, my two little girls, my swimming costume and my travel guide. My biggest decision would be, "should I swim all day, or explore the old ruins and then swim all day?"

After many hours of basking in the sun, eating too much watermelon and dolphin-diving through the teal-coloured water, we made our way back to Dubrovnik for an experience that turned out to be a major highlight: a walk around the old ramparts. It is from this vantage point that you see the town in all its splendour, especially when the sun begins to dip and the whole area is lit up by the warm glow emanating from its buildings. It is also from here that you look down and appreciate the sheer height of the walls above the sea, and understand why those seeking shelter from the Barbarians in the 7th century must have felt smug, snug and safe.

There's little wonder, however, that it was a hotbed of attack centuries later when military technology had improved. During the homeland war of 1991-1992, it was pummelled with 2 000 shells. Occupying a strategic point geographically, and encasing such a vast collection of precious buildings, it was a natural target for those with an axe to grind.

From above, you can easily detect the difference between the original centuries-old roof tiles and those that were laid when the Old Town was lovingly restored. (I must admit here my absolute fascination when I learnt that one of the "ornaments" in our apartment was an exploded grenade that had once ripped through the very room in which we sat.)

Our next day trip was to the enchanting island of Mljet, and as well-travelled as I may be, this destination stands out as the rarest of treats.

Just to give you an idea of why it is so spectacular, imagine this: There is an island. On the island are two saltwater lakes fed by the sea. On one lake, there is a tiny little island. On that tiny little island, there is a Benedictine Monastery from the 12th century. The waters lapping against the side of this tiny island are better than any postcard could convey, and the temperature of the lake's water is ideal. All of this is on the half of Mljet that has been preserved as a national park, devoid of any development and teeming with vegetation and coves.

My only regret after our sliver of time here was that we weren't staying longer. I had read many a blog before we left South Africa saying it was best done as a daytrip and that the island was not very well-equipped for longer stays.

Granted, with small children in tow, day trips are generally easier than changing accommodation too frequently, but it was frustrating to have to leave paradise behind after a single day.

Our next stop was the island of Korcula, and this was not a day trip but our new "home" after the time had come to say goodbye to the grandeur (and expense) of Dubrovnik. It also has a glorious medieval old town, but it is miniature and unassuming and evokes a great sense of daily life from "those days". We were fortunate to find an apartment - immaculate and run by the Tedeschi family - that offered views of the sea just outside our window, and a restaurant below, run by the same family, that brought us pizzas we still talk about.

It was also here that we hired our only car on the whole Croatian trip, and with just rewards. Beyond the little medieval town is a vast island dotted with dramatic hills that fall to the water's edge. And, though things got a bit hair-raising when night fell and we found ourselves lost on the island's rustic roads, it was on this adventure that we got a sense of island life in Dalmatia beyond the tourist hotspots and into the "big blue".

The rude awakening came at 5am the next day when we had to make our way down one million steps to catch the only ferry to our next destination. Two hours later, after a sublime journey during which the sun rose on the ocean, we found ourselves on the island of Hvar, which - more than any other location in Croatia - I had been dreaming about for months.

Determined not to settle for the "lazy" option (in other words, accommodation right near where the ferry docks), we lugged the bags and offspring around until we found the perfect spot for our last few days in this magical country: a little house facing onto a Franciscan monastery, an olive grove and, just in front of it, the sea.

While the others caught up on some sleep after the early ferry ride, I made my way to the magnificent town square. "Now this is the life," I said to myself, as I entered a little shop to buy cheese, olives, tomatoes and freshly-baked bread.

The last few days of our trip were a haze of lazy lunches on the patio, a few more dips in the sea, late-night ice-creams and shopping sprees in the cobbled alleys of the old town, and an exhilarating trek up to the Spanish Fort that offers breathtaking views of the town below.

I even managed to watch a night-time performance by a classical pianist in the open-air cloister of the monastery just by our house, with my four-year-old sitting quietly on my lap.

She looked up at the stars, she gazed ahead at the pianist, and then said, "I love Croatia, mommy."

So do I, my darling, so do I!