Didn't need the alarm again today, just like every morning in Albania the roosters have us wide awake by 4am.
Heading into Montenegro. Today the bus across the border leaves at 9 from the bus gathering place by Demokracia. It seems like a real late start... it is 7 and we are ready to move on.
So we hand our passports and €10 over to the bus driver, throw the pack and suitcase into the under bus storage bin, and set off. One guy has all the identity cards and passports and is triple logging them in. We are at the border inside of 15 minutes and our passports are whisked into the control station. One guy comes out to look in the bin at our bags, shrugs and walks back in. A large black, red and blue sign reminds us we have been in Albania and says, in English, "have a nice trip." One guy is pulled off the bus, the rest of us are given our identity cards and passports as we roll past the yellow and blue sign: Montenegro.
Curious thing, no exit stamp from Albania or entrance stamp to Montenegro. Maybe they have some agreement? Maybe we don't really exist? Maybe Montenegro is a dream...
The road is instantly better, smooth and new black, but unstriped and really narrow. Think narrow, like the back road that runs between Shingletown and Whitmore, but 2/3 the width. We wind through a forest, crawl along a cliff down a gorge, across one lane bridges and through one way tunnels. Less trash around and more of the houses are finished and "cute" rather than the ubiquitous concrete cubes in Albania.
So we rolled into Ulcinj a half hour early, courtesy of the border control, and had time to hit the ATM, and for a short café break before boarding the "Magic Bus" to Budva. The front of the bus said "air condicon" which I was excited to see. I made some joke to Gail about it probably means they open the windows.
But no, it is better than that, the driver just never shut the door! We were seated right across the aisle from it, so I kept an eye on Gail around the curves. The breeze felt great, however and the ocean air was fresh. When someone got to their destination they would yell up at the driver and totter over to the door, hanging onto the bar. I half expected one of them to just jump out when the bus slowed down, but no such luck. No one was thrown out, either.
At the bus station in Bar, the guy behind us jumped out for a one minute smoke, then jumped in literally as we were backing up.
All through Europe people smoke, some countries more than others. Gail enjoys getting a pack of local cigs on each trip, slowly going through them, one at dinner or during a café break, just to join in. She still has over half her pack from last year's trip stashed away at home. The fun of travel: things you don't do in real life. I myself enjoy the 10am wine break, there are the spas, and of course the occasional clothing-optional beach.
Driving along the coast, clean beautiful beach towns, cute mountain villages; I could see spending a week here, easy. Who knew? Budva was beautiful in passing, white mountains dropping to sandy beaches lined with umbrellas, a nice mix of old and modern along the streets and what looked like a really small village on an island in the bay, connected by a walkway bridge? Another trip I suppose, so many things to see.
We got to Kotor. At the bus station, we got in a Taxi that was not an official taxi, and it cost us €5 for a €1,40 trip. Ahhh, the old fake taxi scam. Well... other than that is was great to be here, and what a relief. Kind of like coming home to Europe... you can sense the change in the people, the food, the feel of the town. How to say it? Turkey was so different from any of the countries we have been to. It was fascinating, the food good, the people wonderful, but it definitely did not "feel European" to me. Greece was different than Turkey, but not really European; Albania more “foreign,” like Turkey. But Kotor? Well, Kotor feels like Italy. The beautiful walled old city with its maze of streets, painted shutters, hanging laundry, café lined squares, well it was like walking into a mini Venice (without the canals). On the old walls of the city, the winged lion shows that this was once the possession of the Venetians, and the language even has an Italian influence to it. We walked in through the gates, through the main piazza, down a side alley looking up for a church dome or steeple; where there's a church, there is almost always a square. So we found our hidden piazza back in the maze, and there we found our café for lunch: wine and spaghetti (spaghetti Bolognese! With real cheese!! And good red wine!!!) for me, wine and beautiful salad for Gail. We wandered in and out of the piazzas, often getting turned around in the streets, happy there were no vehicles or even scooters to dodge. Gail went off to shop while I climbed the old city walls high, higher past the upper church to the old fortress (castle) at the top of the mountain. The bay is ringed by steep, white mountains plunging dramatically to the water, and the water is that deep dark blue. The view over the entire Kotor Bay, with the red-roofed village below, was breathtaking (or it was a combination of the climb and my age) so I hung around for sunset before running down, grabbing Gail and heading out to dinner.
There was a cruise ship in the harbor and it's long horn for reboarding echoed mournfully throughout the entire bay. The harbor, the city walls, the castle were all lit at night. For some reason fireworks were shot off around 22:00 but in the small square we could only see the reflected lights on the walls, and hear the booms.
It is comforting to be in familiar territory.
About the passport stamp: Montenegro must be a dream.