nature

Day 13 – Spirit in the Sky

This morning we were up early to catch our tour to one of the holiest sites in Christian Orthodoxy – Ostrog Monastery. We booked our tour through Viator, which we had done many times before generally with a lot of success. We were used to a personable guide loading is into a comfortable van or small bus with 6 – 20 other people, everything we were doing clearly communicated and us well aware of what was expected of us. This was not the case today.

Today we waited roadside with a surly Russian couple, our transportation coming from Budva to pick us up. The bus that arrived was an enormous tour bus, already pretty much full. The surly Russians got on first, then promptly got off. Then Ma, Pa and myself were escorted on and lead to the very back of the bus where there were three seats. Surly Russian dude was yelling something at the tour operator, I would imagine about there being no seats. The operator asked a lady if she would be willing to move seats so surly Russian and his wife could sit together (god knows why his wife would want to sit with him). With that all settled, we were on our way.

From the description of their website, we were under the impression that we would be driving to the monastery, free time at said monastery, back on the bus, lunch, home. When we looked up how long it takes to drive from Petrovac to Ostrog, the internet told us two hours.

Driving up out of the bay was a sight to behold – you could see the whole bay, the beach, difficult to discern where the blue sea met the blue sky. We drove more into the mountains, roads spotted with stone houses, monuments, roadside watermelon and honey stands. We even had to briefly stop at one point as a man was trying to corral his herd of goats off the road.

Two hours in we were not at the monastery but at some sort of roadside market, with a restaurant, market, honey stand, and obligatory tchotchke shop. One thing we noticed as the deeper we went into the mountains, the more things were written in Cyrillic. We were told to hop off the bus and grab breakfast, but the combination of bus ride, heat and overwhelming smell of body odour had kicked my motion sickness into high gear, so instead I took a nap. Ma and Pa had attempted to order breakfast, but nothing materialized, so they came back to the bus empty handed.

Finally we were on the road again, driving past Lake Skadar (which we will be visiting later on the trip), through the nation’s capital Podgorica (which we were gonna visit later on the trip but have since decided that we don’t need to), then started up another narrow mountain road, punctuated by switchback after switchback. Eventually we ended up at a parking lot with a few other big tour buses, and thought “well this is it, time to hike up!” Instead, our tour director said to us “now we taxi”. I laughed out loud to Ma and Pa and exclaimed “what the fuck is going on??” We climbed off the big bus and into some sort of soviet era van with dubious seating, curtains, and a fan screwed to the ceiling. Clinging to the seat in front of me for dear life, we zipped up even more switchbacks, honking at other cars trying to come down the mountain.

And finally, at noon, we were there – Ostrog Monastery. Built in the 17th century by the Bishop of Herzegovina to the glory of Saint Basil, it’s carved into the side of the mountain, which frescoes and icons painted on the rock itself.

Our tour guide shepherded us into a line up for what I thought was the entrance to the monastery. We watched devout women in long skirts, their hair covered by scarves, touch the shrines and icons and cross themselves.

The line moved forward slowly, and pretty soon we were in one of the church caves. You had to duck through a little doorway, with a worker ushering people in and out. Soon I noticed there was an end to the line at the end of the church cave, and I thought I saw people kissing a small painting of an icon before turning away. When I got to the front of the line, I watched the woman in front of me kiss the painting, cross herself, turned to the orthodox priest who was standing there and I had failed to notice, who waved a cross at her and she left.

Then it was my turn. I looked at the painting. I noticed it was in front of an open casket holding the skeletal remains of the founder of the monastery covered in a tapestry. I panicked. I’m not at all religious, so I didn’t want to disrespect the priest by kissing the painting when it meant nothing.

I looked at the painting.

Then at the priest.

The back at the painting.

Then again at the priest. He made a motion to me to kiss the painting. I said a quick I’M SORRYYY to the priest before scrambling out of the cave.

Ma came out of the cave not too long after me and said “don’t worry. I wasn’t about to kiss the painting either. Think of the germs”. We then wandered into part of the monastery and honestly there wasn’t a lot to see – the majesty of the place I think comes from the church caves and the stunning sight of the exterior. There was also a huge gift shop (got some obligatory fridge magnets) and soon we sat in the sunny courtyard, laughing about how much of a shit show the day had been.

When it was time, we piled back into the “taxi”, and barrelled down the switchbacks to the lower lot, where instead of getting back on the big bus, we went to another monastery, this one called Ostrog Donji.

We walked around the grounds and climbed on the big bus, which was supposed to leave at 1400hrs, which it was. By 1420hrs the bus still hadn’t left, and the tour director had gone off to find the one unaccounted for tourist. Surly Russian then got off the bus to vape, followed by a bunch of others who smoked. FINALLY the tour operator returned and got into some sort of verbal altercation with surly Russian, and since I know only about 30 words in Russian, I’m not sure what they were fighting about, but from my limited Russian I’m positive it wasn’t about eating cheese pizza.

FINALLY, we were all loaded on the bus, on our way back to Petrovac…

…or so I thought. We went back down the rest of the switchbacks, past Podgorica, past the pelicans of Lake Skadar, and back to restaurant where we attempted breakfast. Ma and I decided to stop by the honey stand, where we were greeted by the delightful shop keep who didn’t speak English, but were able to communicate with thanks to Ma’s basic German. He let us sample some honey, which is made 8km away in the Durmitor Mountains and is part of Montenegro’s “honey trail”. We said our goodbyes to the nice man and headed back to the restaurant to meet with dad for a pint and some time to relax out of the sun.

After the hour we were given, we headed back into the bus, and back towards Petrovac. For real this time.

Day 10 – I’m Gonna Soak Up the Sun

This morning we woke up with not a lot of plans in mind – just head to the beach and lay there. We had a decent breakfast, walked to the far end of the promenade and back, changed into our bathing suits, bought some beach towels and a shitty little beach umbrella and found a square of sand.

The shitty umbrella was almost predictably an instant fail, so we decided to pay the Euros and use the lounge chairs and cemented-in umbrellas instead. Pa and I had bought a few cans of beer from a nearby kiosk, and the conversation went like this:

Me: are we allowed to drink beer on the beach?

Cashier on the phone: YES.

I cracked open a grapefruit radler, laid back with my big bitch hat and 2 piece on and just revelled in how relaxed I was. It’s been a long time since I felt that calm.

The sand at the beach is coarse and red, and the water is clear and only slightly chilly. I went in for a dip, the small rocks shredding my feet in the shallow water, but finally got to some large smooth ones where I could stand and float about.

After about a half hour I got out of the water and plopped myself down in my lounger and promptly fell asleep in the sun.

Now allow me a moment to pontificate. I haven’t worn a bathing suit in public in many many years. This year through the help and support of some pretty special people I worked up the courage and bought not one but TWO two piece (high waisted) bathing suits. It was the first time today that I’ve ever worn a two-piece in public, and I actually felt pretty great about it. Part of the reason is that here, every woman and man of every shape, size and age are wearing bathing suits of every shape, size and colour. Women who would be body shamed in North America are wearing whatever they please and not giving one single fuck. I saw an older man standing by the beach, back to the sun, reading his book with one hand, cigarette in the other, teeny tiny speedo. I saw a woman literally slathering butter on her husband. I felt confident to not only be seen in a two piece, but felt like I looked good in my two piece.

After beach time we changed back into our civvies and hit the promenade for dinner and tres leches cake for dessert.

Day 9 – Good Day Sunshine

This morning we ate our last breakfast at the Conte Hotel, perched over the languid blue that is the Bay of Kotor, packed our bags and were picked up by a man named Padrag and his black Mercedes. We hired Padrag through a car service to drive us from Perast to our next destination, an hour and a bit south on the coast and out of the bay to a town called Petrovac in the Municipality of Budva. The city of Budva itself is a party town, so we decided to stay at her sleepy neighbour.

The car ride was uneventful, but the beautiful scenery kept it interesting. Montenegro is definitely one of the more naturally beautiful spots on Earth that I’ve visited so far.

We drove through Budva city, past Sveti Stefan and arrived in Petrovac. We were met there by a whirlwind of a man named Djordje whose English is just as good as our Serbo-Croatian. He called a friend to translate and took us up to our beautiful apartment, took us on the tour of the apartment, and as mysteriously as he appeared, he was gone.

Petrovac is a beautiful little bay surrounded by red sand beach and and a promenade filled with restaurants and beachy shops. We walked along some of the promenade, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the beautiful sea

Pa went to the little kiosk by our apartment and picked up some beers, so we drank a few Leffe and relaxed in our new place.

We had skipped lunch, so headed next door to the pizzeria for an early dinner and more relaxing time. We had been told by our driver that most of the visitors were Russians and Serbs, and this was obvious by the amount of signage in Cyrillic.

We went back to our apartment where we listened to the ocean outside our windows and fell asleep, excited for our time ahead in another utopian Montenegrin town.

Day 8 – If I Leave Here Tomorrow

Today was our last full day in Perast, so we wanted to relax, take it easy, walk the length of the village from watering hole to watering hole.

I tried in vain to capture how clear and blue the water is here, but still it eludes me!

It was the hottest day so far at 31 degrees, so we had to take it easy, my ugly heat rash spreading.

Probably my funniest interaction of the day was at the post office buying stamps. The post office in this tiny town is not a slick Deutsche Post-like operation, but a small room in one of the ancient stone buildings manned by a middle aged lady at a table. Our conversation went like this:

Me: hello! I need to buy some stamps to send post cards to Canada.

Her: Canada. Yes.

Me: uh, there’s a bunny in here.

Her: yes. Eet’s bunny. How many stamps?

Me: twelve. Does the bunny live here?

Her: eet’s not my bunny *rolls eyes*

I sent off some more postcards after my thrilling mail bunny encounter, grabbed a 1€ lavender ice cream and went back to taking more snaps.

We decided on our local favourite restaurant for dinner where we had chicken on the grill and local orange liqueur (Pa had two) and returned to our hotel room.

Perast is super lovely and exceeded my expectations for its stunning natural beauty alone. Although it suffers from apparently typical Montenegrin lack of detail (a lot of broken park benches, garbage cans overflowing), I would definitely come back to spend a week in this gorgeous seaside town.

Day 7 – Dazzling Blue

This morning we took our time at the hotel’s breakfast buffet, savouring the strong espresso and pastries. Pa had secured a speed boat tour for he and I, while Ma was more than happy to spend a few hours wandering Perast on her own.

We shared the speedboat with an English couple and two sisters and a mom of unknown origin. I’ve decided the speedboat operator has the best job in the world – zipping around paradise in a boat, cool Helly Hansen jacket, no shoes…what am I doing get screamed at by callers, members and coworkers alike? Anyway.

Our first stop was to Our Lady of the Rock – is that sounds familiar, it should – we’ve already been there. Pa and I stayed in the boat, catching some rays while our shipmates took a few moments to explore the island.

After about 20 minutes or so, we reloaded and headed west – to the narrow opening of the bay.

Our next point of interest was a submarine tunnel, lightly camouflaged and built into the side of the hill. The Yugoslavian government built three of them in the 60s and 70s as a means of hiding submarines and small warships. I tried my best to grab a few snaps through the changing light, rocking boat and clueless shipmates.

We left the marine bunker and sped further west, past the abandoned shipyards and various villas and resorts, all in different states of construction and disrepair.

Next up was Mamula – an island that holds an abandoned prison that was turned into a concentration camp by Mussolini during WWII. Many were imprisoned, tortured and killed here, and the island has stirred up controversy as of late – in 2016 the Montenegrin government sold the island to Russians, who are turning it into an Ibiza-esque resort, complete with spa and nightclubs. This has understandably upset the relatives and descendants of victims and survivors of the camp, and although the new owners of the island said that they would set up a memorial, this has done little to appease the angry people.

Past Mamula and we were on the open Adriatic – due west was Italy. The sky was a grey wall, dotted with sailboats, main sails and jibs full of the briny breeze. It was almost eerie being such a tiny boat on the open sea, as if some rogue wave, wind or monster could carry us away.

Finally, we turned and headed into a 3 meter tall opening in the side of the rock cliffs – the Blue Cave, or Blue Grotto. Not as famous as its Italian and Maltese siblings, the Blue Cave is stunning – almost unbelievably blue water, like blue flavoured Gatorade. I dipped my hand in, the water iridescent, glowing and surprisingly warm.

Again, it was tricky to get a photo that captured how blue the water was, while also being on a speedboat in a cave. Other boats were stopped there, with swimmers and revellers taking refuge from the oppressive heat (I myself have developed and ugly and itchy heat rash on my chest). Even just outside of the cave the water was bright blue, with speedboats and sailboats alike floating in the glowing sea.

We headed back to the mainland and docked at about 1500hrs and met up with Ma. We grabbed some delicious shopska salad (a favourite we discovered from our trip to Bulgaria 2 years ago) beers and some Perast cake, wrote and sent some postcards and wiled away the hot afternoon until dinner and bed.

Day 5 – Come Sail Away

This morning we were awaken at 0400hrs by a flash of light that lit up the room and a deafening crack – a storm had made its way over the mountains and into the Bay. It went on for about 20 minutes, and it felt like some of the strikes hit our hotel.

When it was actually time to get up, the sky was overcast but not heavy with rain. We enjoyed breakfast outside, leisurely sipping our americanos and orange juice and chowing down on corn flakes with cut up banana (my favourite vacation breakfast).

One of the things we really wanted to do while we were here was to visit a church. But this isn’t just any church – this is a Catholic Church built on a small island that was built upon sunken pirate ships in the middle of the Bay of Kotor. Our hotel offers 5€ boat rides there, so we paid the ferryman and putted over to the middle of the bay.

I’m of course in my element, because if you’ve read my previous years of travel, you will remember how much I love boat tours.

Our ferryman dropped us off, letting us know we can spend as much time as we like on the island. A little bit about the island – it’s an artificial island, with construction starting in 1452 when sailors found an icon of Madonna with child on a rock. Over the years they filled seized pirate ships with rocks and sank them in the same location, and once the island broke water, they built the Catholic Church that stands there today.

The Church is tiny, with a small sanctuary and a bit of an ad hoc museum upstairs, housing all sorts of recovered treasure and bounty adorning the walls and floors.

After moseying through the Church, we grabbed a bench outside and watched two enormous cruise ships enter the bay, and dark dense clouds creep over the mountains. Being from Raincouver, we know when it’s time to start looking for cover.

We found our ferryman pretty quickly and boarded the boat as droplets started to fall. After the five minute sail we were back on land and downpour was imminent, so we found a covered restaurant, ordered grilled meats and charcuterie and watched the warm, pouring rain.

Maybe two hours passed, and the sky was nothing but blue and white fluffy cloud, and the sun heating up the air and evaporating any puddles left on the road. We had noticed a small ice cream stand right beside our hotel and decided it was time to test it out.

My lavender cone was delicious, but the sun was making us drowsy, so we all grabbed our books, found some chairs in a sitting area of the hotel and read away the afternoon.

We watched a few wedding parties and tour groups stroll by, and before we knew it, it was dinner time. We again dined outside, tried the local rakia and watched the sun set.

Day 4 – Seaside Rendezvous

This morning we were leaving not only the town of Dubrovnik, but also the country of Croatia for the rest of the trip (well, until we have to go back to the airport at the end), so we repacked our bags and had breakfast on the go. We hired a driver through a car service to take us from Croatia to our next stop, Perast, Montenegro with a stop in Herceg Novi for lunch. We wheeled our luggage across the shiny cobblestones and stole a few glances of the old city for the last time, happy we got a second at Dubrovnik but it was definitely time to leave.

Our driver arrived early in a black Opel. His name is Jasmin and he struggled out of the vehicle with a cane, so told him not to worry and loaded the bags ourselves. During our drive to the border(s), Jasmin pointed out a lot of interesting facts about the surrounding area (why an island is cursed, which mega yacht with helicopter and submarines belongs to a Russian oligarch, where he lived when the Serbians invaded) and had some real talk that has been repeating and resonating a lot with me lately – live your life to the fullest, because you never know when it can all get taken away from you. Six years ago Jasmin had been riding his motorcycle when he had an aneurysm that left him completely paralyzed. His wife sold his car rental business and left him. He now has full use of his limbs and is working again, often mentioning how lucky he is, instead of complaining about his lot.

The border between Croatia and Montenegro is like a double border – you go through a crossing to leave Croatia, then through a no man’s land, then another crossing to enter Montenegro. Both crossings went smoothly, and soon we were coming upon Herceg Novi, a quaint little old town (although Novi means “new”) that sits on the north end of the Bay of Kotor. Jasmin said he would chill by the car and smoke while we went into the old town for some lunch.

The old town is tiny, but clean and cute. We picked a restaurant with a charming owner and funny waitress and dined on beer, salad and fries and made friends with the local cats.

After getting the obligatory fridge magnets, shot glass and post cards (and trying to get away from the book seller trying to sell me his book of sonnets in English, French and German), we met back up with Jasmin and headed deeper into the Bay towards Perast.

Perast is very small, and the main seaside street is pedestrian only. Jasmin called our hotel to advise them that we were close, and the staff met us at the gate in a hotel branded golf cart. We said our goodbyes to Jasmin and scooted off to our hotel, sitting perfectly in an old stone building with the adjacent restaurant jutting out over the Adriatic Sea.

Perast is not very big, and the majority of the village is lined along the water; seafood restaurants, boat rentals, stone piers.

We dumped our things on our wood-beamed room and headed out to walk the seaside street. The weather is interesting and ever changing here. The Bay of Kotor is Europe’s southernmost fjord, so the bay is nestled between green stony mountains. Like in Vancouver, the clouds get stuck over the mountains, dumping their payload there while the bay lies drenched in sunshine. The water is clear and aquamarine, warm on my toes and the briny breeze reminds me of home.

We chose to stay in Perast over the more popular Kotor, as Kotor hosts cruise ship crowds and we wanted to take a break from getting bumped into.

We came across a bar hanging over the sea and decided to take a break for a beer (sorry Croatia, the beer is definitely better in Montenegro) where we relaxed and talked about the upcoming Canadian federal election.

We paid our tab and realized it was time for dinner, so we headed back to the restaurant attached to our hotel, lauded by the internet and travel books alike for its outstanding seafood dishes. Sadly for us, none of us really eat seafood, so we tried their non-fish fare (which was mediocre at best).

After dinner we turned in for the night, watching the lights from across the bay sparkle and turn in the emerald water.

Day 11: White Caps on a Sea of Blue

I woke up this morning after a fantastic sleep and headed down to a delightful breakfast provided by our wonderful hosts, including a myriad of delicious homemade jams and apple juice. We piled into our VW and hit the road towards another seaside town called Étretat, 20 minutes west of Fécamp. I wanted to go to Étretat because it features some really beautiful and interesting coastal rock formations. The drive there was again very picturesque – green hills, quaint villages, cows cows cows.

We took a sharp turn and headed up a steep hill and found parking, bundled up and wandered out onto the cliffs.

The main point of interest in the formations is the one called “l’aiguille”, or “the needle”. It was windy and sky was moody and it was a truly breathtaking sight.

The tops of the cliffs feature rocky winding paths and in the typical European fashion, no safety railings to be seen (if you get too close to the edge and fall over, it’s your own dumb fault). We wandered and meandered, admiring the cliffs, ocean, flora, fauna, and a single white-sailed sail boat on the water.

We had all taken about 200 of the same photo of the cliffs and decided it was time to hit the beach. We got back in the car and headed town to the town of Étretat, found a créperie/pizzeria, had some lunch and headed to the beach. Étretat, like Fécamp has a pebble beach, but does not have as much as a natural protected harbour as Fécamp.

Along the promenade are fact placards about French Impressionist painter Claude Monet and his paintings featuring Étretat and its alabaster cliffs.

As we got closer to the “Needle”, we noticed that there were a fair deal of surfers and stand up paddle boarders in the water, braving the winds and chilly waters.

The rain started picking up so we headed back to our car and drove back to Fécamp.

One of the points of interest of Fécamp is that it is the home of the Palais Bénédictine, a gothic/Renaissance/Art Deco structure that not only houses Bénédictine monks, but is the only distillery in the world of the liqueur Bénédictine. I had no previous knowledge of this liqueur prior to planning our trip, but when I mentioned it to Pa, he was pretty keen, which is part of the reason we chose Fécamp as our Normandy home base.

What we didn’t know is that the Palais houses a wealth of old liturgical relics, art and artefacts, as well as old Art Deco print ads for the liqueur.

We perused the artefacts and ancient letters on our own, but had to join a group tour for the distillery portion. The distilling seems like quite the time consuming process, taking 2 years of macerating, heating and ageing 27 herbs and spices in their basement and cellars until the elixir is bottled.

There have been many many imitations, but the only real Bénédictine is distilled in this one location.

After touring the cellar it was time for a sample, and we could choose between classic Bénédictine, B&B (Bénédictine and Brandy) and Bénédictine single cask. Given there were 3 samples and 3 of us, we all got a different sample so we could share. My apologies to the monks who saved the recipe during the scattering of their props during the French Revolution, but I am not a fan of Bénédictine.

After Pa helped us finish our samples, we hit up the local grocery store and boulangerie for a baguette, some cider, éclairs and gummy bears and brought them back to our B&B where we sat in the dining room, tore apart the baguette and smothered it in salted butter and emptied the bottle of cider. We then retired to our rooms to read and rest before a busy day tomorrow.

The Sun’ll Come Out…

It’s been a long winter on the the west coast this year.  More snow than we’ve seen in years, not to mention the rain, rain rain.  Earlier this week we had a rare bright spot, and lucky for us, the cherry blossoms were out too!  I took the opportunity to shoot the cherry blossom in Ma and Pa’s front yard – planted the same time my sister was born.  My friend was telling me that part of the reason why he loves cherry blossoms so much because they’re are so ephemeral – here for a few weeks and then poof!  Gone for another year.

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Croatia (Part 5: Zadar)

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Our pleasant-est of pleasant surprises on our trip to the Balkans was the coastal town of Zadar.  We decided to stay in Zadar randomly – it was a coastal town almost a straight line from the more inland Plitvice Lakes.  We read that it had a pretty old town and a newer interesting waterfront feature – the Marine Organ.

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After most of our day in Plitvice lakes we decided to head into town to check out the Organ and get some dinner.  We wandered through the old town and marvelled at the beautiful Venetian stone work – it was like a miniature, less crowded version of Dubrovnik.  The city is very clean and the stones shiny, like they polish them on a regular basis.  Little art galleries and pizzerias were strewn about the town.

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When we made our way outside of the old wall we were thrust upon a vision of utter majesty – the orange-red sun setting on the restless, white-capped Adriatic Sea, the sound of Nikola Basic’s award winning urban art instalment – the Marine Organ.  As mentioned in a previous post, the Marine Organ is a set of polyethylene pipes of varying lengths and widths set into the concrete seafront with slats on one end to allow the wind, waves, and water in and an opening on the other to the let the chance music out.

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We sat on the steps, watched the sailboats pass by in the choppy waters and the sun set, and listened to the music.  The music was enchanting, harmonious, hypnotizing.  I could have listened to it all day.  We noticed that there were a few cafes set back from the concrete steps and decided that some day, one day, when we return, we will spend more time in Zadar and sit at one of those cafes for a day, drink the delicious coffee and listen to the music of the ocean.

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