Never Left Home

Today’s posting is mostly photos taken in Kotor, Montenegro. Kotor is one of those picture perfect walled Dalmatian coast towns that seems to just draw you in. The beautiful bay and surrounding steep mountains remind you in some ways of a Norwegian fjord. Consequently, its beauty draws cruise ships into its tiny port in the summer, but the town of 4,800 wisely limits the number of that can come in at any one time and if an independent traveler pays attention to the ship schedule the crush of cruisers can be avoided, or at least mitigated.

The old town’s walls began construction the 9th century, with continual additions and improvements over the next 900 years. Kotor was part of the Venetian empire for several hundred years and evidence of this period can be seen on building walls throughout the city. We opted to stay in a small town along the bay, about 10km from the old city. This turned out to be a good choice and we enjoyed the surrounding beauty and swimming in the Adriatic.

We took a day-trip from Budva, 40 minutes up the winding mountain road to the old Montenegrin capital city of Cetinje, a town of 14,000 that time seems to have forgotten. The old British, Russian and French embassies are still there, as well as structures from hundreds of years ago, but mostly the sleepy town is more of a village than anything else. It was a very peaceful place. The entry to the Budva bus station is quite entertaining. Right at the entrance to the station is a mini-wildlife enclosure, complete with peacocks and other birds, which makes you wonder if you’re in the right place to take a bus.

As we entered the station, a man with an official-looking identification badge asked if he could help us. As he directed us to the ticket window, he gave us an abbreviated story of his life, including his adventures as a merchant seaman and his visit to Portland while serving on a ship. He said his name was “Robert Kennedy” which he wrote on a brochure he gave us promoting a beachside restaurant where he said he worked as a cook. Our travel antennae always go up around bus stations but this guy seemed somewhat legitimate. He was helpful in giving us directions and a map of Kotor, our next major destination and, in any case, he didn’t appear to be expecting a tip.

While waiting for our bus, we met a very tall, thin young woman, also waiting for a bus. Her appearance reminded us of Olive Oyl from the old Popeye cartoons and she loved to talk. In the space of 15 minutes we learned she was Bosnian, lived in Kosovo, was married, was looking for work because things were tough in Kosovo, had just lost her hotel housekeeping job in Budva, and was now heading to Herzeg-Novi to look for work. She also frequently insisted that we write down her philosophy of life, which for the life of us we can’t remember because of the torrent of information she was giving us. At one point, she mentioned that perhaps she should go to America to be exhibited in a museum because she was so thin and that this was obviously something very unusual in our country. We enjoyed talking with her but we were glad when her bus arrived to take her to her next destination. We just couldn’t take any more data. Hopefully her next job will be one where she can capitalize on her verbal prodigiousity.

Our bus still had not arrived so we sat at a table to have a coke while two bus drivers were have a grand time drinking beer. When they ordered their second round, we looked at each other and agreed that if one of these guys turned out to be our driver we would pass on the ride. No fear, however, they were just off-duty and our bus soon came, complete with sober driver.

The 1.5 hour bus ride from Podgorica to Budva, Montenegro took us over some beautiful mountains and gave us an appreciation of how rugged this country is. After driving through the old capital of Cetinje and down the mountain road to Budva we checked into our hotel and then walked the short distance to the sea to get a lay of the land. Budva is one of those places that one either loves or hates. It is certainly the key town along the coast of Montenegro and primarily Russian investors have built huge high-class resort hotels and condos to rival Spain’s Costa del Sol. Some people will bemoan the loss of whatever quaintness the area had before development. But for us, we really enjoyed Budva. It reminded Tanya of what a beach town should look like, full of beach umbrellas and families out enjoying their weekend. 

Budva’s old town is a kind of miniature Dubrovnik and is a short walk from the main beach area. Walking through the narrow cobblestone streets, lined with weekend tourists, pizza places and souvenir shops, we were glad that we had decided to stay at a small hotel outside the old walls. Besides being a bit claustrophobic and hot, the charm that would be more evident at other times of the year, when visitors are scarce, was diminished.

This is the very beginning of the season in Budva, with most of the seaside restaurants having just opened June 1. They go full tilt until the end of September/October and then shut down over the winter. The same goes with hotels. Our small hotel, Hotel Oliva, just re-opened May 1 and will close at the end of October when the owner goes back to Switzerland for six months to tend to his Zurich restaurant operated by his wife during the summer. He told us his name is “Branko”, not Franco” and he’s a friendly hands-on operator who is always available and loves to interact with his guests. The setting for the hotel is very nice with a backyard of olive trees and a bubbling fountain.  

At breakfast, Branco asked Jay how he liked his coffee. “Black”, Jay responded. “Ah, just like the American cowboys. They only drink their coffee black. I know because when I was a boy I read the Karl May books, with the cowboy, Old Shatterhand, and his Indian companion Winnetou. I cried when Winnetou died.”

Fortunately, we’ve read some of May’s books and have even visited a museum in Germany dedicated to his memory. If you’ve never heard of him, here’s a Wikipedia link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karl_May

At last, Tanya got to visit Podgorica, Montenegro. Not that she necessarily has any family ties here but she was anxious to see a city containing the root of her maiden name, Podgornoff (Podgornov). The word “Podgor” translates in various Slavic languages as roughly “the base of the hill or mountain” and Podgorica is the town at the base of the mountain. Tanya knew that her ancestors were named for being the people at the base of the mountain and so Montenegro’s small capital city, Podgorica, called to her. As you can see, she was very excited to be here. 

With only about 186,000 people, Podgorica is one of the smallest capitals in Europe and the city has a distinctive small-town feel to it. It’s not high on most European travelers’ list which was another reason we had to go there. Podgorica has a very small but efficient airport and it was an easy taxi ride to our home for the next two nights, the New Star Hotel. We had a nice third-floor room overlooking the town and after settling in, set out to do a little grocery shopping and exploring.

As we were searching for our restaurant for dinner, Lanterna, a pair of very nice young women saw us looking at our street map and speaking very good English, asked if they could help us. We were two streets off target and their directions were right on in getting us to where we wanted to go.  Lanterna is a dimly lit, rustic kind of restaurant specializing in Montenegrin cuisine and pizza. This is not surprising in Montenegro, as we learned over the next few days that Italian cuisine is very popular and often easier to find than the grilled meat dishes that characterize traditional Montenegrin fare. We went for the mixed grill plate for two, a huge platter of grilled chicken, sausages, pork and beef atop a bed of fries. So much for keeping with our usual “plant-strong” diet. With a couple of schopska salads and a bottle of the local red, our bill was 35 euros, about half of what we’d have to pay in Wiesbaden.

With the dim lighting and Barry White music piped throughout the restaurant we got the impression that Lanterna just might be the local link-up place for after-work dalliances. Our opinion was supported by the presence of a young, female junior-management type at a nearby table sharing cocktails with and displaying an unusually keen interest in practically everything being said by her tablemate, a balding, business suited man significantly senior to her in years. Of course, they could just have been colleagues meeting for a drink after work but it’s fun to invent stories when you’re on the road.

Walking back through town toward our hotel we got a glimpse of city Podgorican life. In the main square a volleyball net had been set up and groovy loud rock music blared throughout the square. It being too hot to stay at home in one of the many apartment buildings reminiscent of post-Yugoslav urban housing, Podgoricans were out in force, with their children, grandmothers, aunts and uncles. It was the kind of authentic Balkan experience that would never find its way into any guidebook. It was wonderful.