I'm not going to write anything about Albania. Deal with it.
OK, I'll give you one sentence. In Albania there are no car lanes and everybody drives like a maniac and the capital city of Tirana is full of smog but that's ok because we couchsurfed with Christoph and the restaurants are really good and I got an awesome haircut for 3$.
There, now let's just move on.
I wanted to post about one average day in the mentality of a globetrotter. Sometimes I have to laugh at myself for having an inexplicably bad attitude, or being way to pleased by something very simple. None of these events are really worth conveying to anybody (except Morgan, who is forced to listen to my stream of concioussness on a daily basis), but you can't understand what it's like just hearing about the sights.
We had 3 hours until our shuttle to the bus station left, so we decided to wander back through the Beyoglu district of Istanbul, and get some coffee and dinner. As a nature of my substance addiction I start to get headaches at precisely 4pm every day that I do not get my coffee. Sure enough, as Morgan was examining some jewelrya shirt at a nice little shop, I felt my energy go and my head get foggy. It was time to power through to our destination.
We came to the main street down to Taxim Square, which is basically a giant outdoor shopping mall packed with people. I will admit that the first two times we had to walk down this street I was enamored by the shops selling Turkish delight, kebabs, and even some neat handmade stuff that girls like. In my present countenance, however, I was just irritated. The Starbucks' and Burger Kings put me over the edge.
One thing I can't stand is people walking slowly, treating the walking path as their own personal slalom. Usually these people are arm in arm or carrying lots of shopping bags. When they are in groups they like to stop and fan out to have a conversation, instantly causing a traffic jam. On this particular evening, they seemed to beout in greater numbers. I don't know any dirty words in Turkish, so I had to content myself with shouldering past with an exaggerated contortion of my body, and then briskly walking away.
We came to the restaurant of our choice before finding any decent coffe shops, so the fix would have to wait. After ordering our far to expensive meals, I was more than a little irked to see the size of my entree, accompanied by the miniscule amount of bread that they failed to refill and, at the meals end, they had the had the audacity to charge extra for. There was no way we were getting coffee here.
Upon reaching Taxim Square, we began to bop in and out of cafes to check the prices of coffee. 6 lira, 7 lira, 8 lira (1 dollar = 1.5 lira)- I was not about to drop 4 bucks on a cup of coffee. On second thought, I was not about drop 4 bucks on a 3 ounces of coffee, from some tourist trap whose probably using Nescafe instant coffee mix they get for $0.02 a pack. If I was going to drop 4 bucks on a cup of coffee, it was going to be from the US of A. We walked into Starbucks, and I ordered a tall cappucino for 4.50 lira.
I paused for a moment to reflect that only a small portion of my 4.5 lira would re-enter the local economy, while the lion's share would be shipped back to Washington State. A smile formed on my lips.
The tall cup of coffee, as we all know, is the smallest size Starbucks offers. However, it is approximately 4 times larger than anything you can by this side of the Atlantic. God bless America! It felt so wrong, but it felt so very right. We huddles in the corner for the next hour. Starbucks was my sanctuary, I couldn't have felt better had I been sitting in the United States embassy. But let's be honest for a minute, I was sitting in the United States embassy. U.S.A! U.S.A!
Anyway, a fully caffeinated Tommy made it though the next few hours quite well. We settled into our night bus to Cappadocia, and as we pulled out a movie came on. Rush Hour 3 in Turkish. It was great. The recipe is quite simple: Jackie Chan does his thing, then Chris Tucker tries to kick somebody and gets beat up, but it's ok because either Jackie saves him or Chris just shoots the bad guy. My eyes greedily drank in the film in its entirety, and somehow I left Istanbul completely contented.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Vino Skop
Amazingly, we were in Skopje, Macedonia for their annual Wine Festival. It is held in the main city square near the river and a beautiful stone bridge.
Remember when we blogged about the Kravji Bal in Bohinj, Slovenia? This is the exact opposite except that people drink alcohol at both. Think: Deming Log Show vs. Taste of Kirkland for an idea of the type of people at these events.
Here's how it works: upon entering the festival, you buy a wine glass and tokens (in 50MKD increments). Then you wander around the winery booths and they will give you a glass FULL of wine. We bought 200MKD worth of tokens and by the time I had 1.25 glasses I knew that was enough. We'll go back for a second night to try more.
We messed up at the first booth because we both got the same type of wine. It was very good but we wanted to try a bunch instead of the same. Now we know!
There was also a stage set up for various performances throughout the festival. We watched Chikibum, an a capella women's swing group, and a traditional Macedonian group sing. I liked listening to the new music and watching all of the pretty people. The women in the Balkans are very beautiful and they dress very well.
The best part of the Vino Skop were the booths of handmade treasures. In all of our travels the only stuff for sale anywhere has been cheap junk made in China. My idea of buying treasures during our travels did not include things made in China. You'll have to wait and see what I found at the booths, because something might be for you!
Remember when we blogged about the Kravji Bal in Bohinj, Slovenia? This is the exact opposite except that people drink alcohol at both. Think: Deming Log Show vs. Taste of Kirkland for an idea of the type of people at these events.
Here's how it works: upon entering the festival, you buy a wine glass and tokens (in 50MKD increments). Then you wander around the winery booths and they will give you a glass FULL of wine. We bought 200MKD worth of tokens and by the time I had 1.25 glasses I knew that was enough. We'll go back for a second night to try more.
We messed up at the first booth because we both got the same type of wine. It was very good but we wanted to try a bunch instead of the same. Now we know!
There was also a stage set up for various performances throughout the festival. We watched Chikibum, an a capella women's swing group, and a traditional Macedonian group sing. I liked listening to the new music and watching all of the pretty people. The women in the Balkans are very beautiful and they dress very well.
The best part of the Vino Skop were the booths of handmade treasures. In all of our travels the only stuff for sale anywhere has been cheap junk made in China. My idea of buying treasures during our travels did not include things made in China. You'll have to wait and see what I found at the booths, because something might be for you!
Untouched by Tourism? Found it.
The last few posts got scrambled, scroll down if you want to make sure you didn't miss anything...
Day 46:
Two days in Kosovo was enough to rock our worlds. Everywhere we had been provided tourist information centers, shops selling worthless trinkets, and a wealth of travelers sifting through to see the sites. Not so in Kosovo. We had started to get that "Not in Kansas anymore" vibe in Montenegro, but here is completely hit home.
We stayed at the only cheap place in Pristina, Guesthouse Velania. It is basically a cross between a youth hostel, a retirement home, and an M. C. Escher painting. There are seriously staircases everywhere. After we arrived there (that's a story for another day), and after the heat got turned on, it was all right. Snow a week after swimming in the ocean was a surprising and not exactly welcome change.
Pristina was not what we expected, but then again that may be because we didn't know what to expect! With the exception of the main arteries, there are no sidewalks or crosswalks. People just walk off to the side in the streets and cars drive around them. At first this was terrifying (especially crossing streets), but we got used to it surprisingly fast.
The people are incredibly friendly and nice. Whenever somebody I've talked to has come back from a place as troubled as Kosovo and said "the people there re the nicest I've met," the cynic in me has written it off as that person subconsciously trying to sound cool or justify their going to such a place. The cynic in me has been humbled. I think the reason for everyone's kindness is that it's not overrun by tourists. Internationals are few and far between, especially Americans, and Kosovars are excited to see the international community taking an interest in their little country.
The food is amazing. We had ethnically Albanian dishes that consisted of meat, egg and cheese baked in a bowl and flat bread baked alongside. It's amazing. I am excited that while we may have left Kosovo, there is more of this quality food ahead of us in Albania.
We had a hard time figuring out the attitude towards Americans here. People always gave us a surprised look when they learned we were Americans, but we couldn't tell if it was a positive or negative reaction. With the number of American flags, and the attitude towards Bill Clinton, we figure it was positive. Bill is so popular here that people started naming there kids "Klinton." Check out this picture taken near the intersection of Bulevard Nena Tereze and, yep, you guessed it... Bulevard Bil Klinton:
Let me steal a paragraph here to plug in an ever so brief history of Kosovo. This is leaving out a LOT of details. Kosovo was the heart of Serbia until the Ottoman Empire took control in the late 14th century. For 500 years, Sebrs (Orthodox Christians) moved out and Albanians and Turks (Muslim) moved in. In 1912, Serbia took Kosovo back from the Turks, and settled where there was room. In WWII Albania took control. Kosovo was then incorporated into Yugoslavia (though Albania wsa not), and remained with Serbia after the breakup. Serbs complained of ill-treatment at the hands of ethnic Albanians, tensions heated up, and ethnic Albanians declared independence from Serbia in 1990. This was a problem because Kosovo was not divided into Serbian and Albanian sections, the two groups lived together.
War broke out in 1992 and in 1999 the genocide began. If genocide is to ugly a word for you, you can use ethnic-cleansing instead. Serbia started bombing the heck out of Kosovo, so after a few verbal shots across the bow, NATO bombed the crap out of Serbia. Kosovo has been a UN Protectorate since 1999, and Kosovo declared itself independant in 2008 (yes, again). In the last decade, reprisals against Serbians have been more common than violence directed at Albanians. Serbian Kosovars boycotted the election and established their own council in the town of Mitrovica.
As you can see, it's complicated. We spent most of our time in the Albanian region of Kosovo, where the Orthodox churches that haven't been destroyed are protected by KFOR armed guards. KFOR is Kosovo Force, the NATO troops that are keeping the peace. Most Serbs, but not all, have fled to the north, and most Albanians to the south.
Here's the little bit that we have learned first hand from being here. For one, most Kosovars do not harbor feelings of hate for other people groups. One police officer spoke with pride of the diversity in his town, Prizren. "Where else in Europe can you find a Mosque, an Orthodox church, and a Catholic church all in the city center?" he asked. He very much wanted to impart everyone's desire to move on and get along.
The other main observation is that Kosovo is ready to move on. Construction is happening everywhere, the economy is starting to get rolling, and EU membership is the hot topic of conversation. People are not sitting around feeling sorry for themselves. It is very cool to see.
Lastly, it has been awesome to feel like we are walking through history in the making. The hilltop park near our guesthouse had a war memorial and memorial to the late President, who just died in 2006. Roadside memorials flying the Albanian flag abound. It is very different than seeing a memorial from the French Revoultion or something like that. It is fresh and real, and that made it somewhat emotional in a vague way for me.
Day 46:
Two days in Kosovo was enough to rock our worlds. Everywhere we had been provided tourist information centers, shops selling worthless trinkets, and a wealth of travelers sifting through to see the sites. Not so in Kosovo. We had started to get that "Not in Kansas anymore" vibe in Montenegro, but here is completely hit home.
We stayed at the only cheap place in Pristina, Guesthouse Velania. It is basically a cross between a youth hostel, a retirement home, and an M. C. Escher painting. There are seriously staircases everywhere. After we arrived there (that's a story for another day), and after the heat got turned on, it was all right. Snow a week after swimming in the ocean was a surprising and not exactly welcome change.
Pristina was not what we expected, but then again that may be because we didn't know what to expect! With the exception of the main arteries, there are no sidewalks or crosswalks. People just walk off to the side in the streets and cars drive around them. At first this was terrifying (especially crossing streets), but we got used to it surprisingly fast.
The people are incredibly friendly and nice. Whenever somebody I've talked to has come back from a place as troubled as Kosovo and said "the people there re the nicest I've met," the cynic in me has written it off as that person subconsciously trying to sound cool or justify their going to such a place. The cynic in me has been humbled. I think the reason for everyone's kindness is that it's not overrun by tourists. Internationals are few and far between, especially Americans, and Kosovars are excited to see the international community taking an interest in their little country.
The food is amazing. We had ethnically Albanian dishes that consisted of meat, egg and cheese baked in a bowl and flat bread baked alongside. It's amazing. I am excited that while we may have left Kosovo, there is more of this quality food ahead of us in Albania.
We had a hard time figuring out the attitude towards Americans here. People always gave us a surprised look when they learned we were Americans, but we couldn't tell if it was a positive or negative reaction. With the number of American flags, and the attitude towards Bill Clinton, we figure it was positive. Bill is so popular here that people started naming there kids "Klinton." Check out this picture taken near the intersection of Bulevard Nena Tereze and, yep, you guessed it... Bulevard Bil Klinton:
Let me steal a paragraph here to plug in an ever so brief history of Kosovo. This is leaving out a LOT of details. Kosovo was the heart of Serbia until the Ottoman Empire took control in the late 14th century. For 500 years, Sebrs (Orthodox Christians) moved out and Albanians and Turks (Muslim) moved in. In 1912, Serbia took Kosovo back from the Turks, and settled where there was room. In WWII Albania took control. Kosovo was then incorporated into Yugoslavia (though Albania wsa not), and remained with Serbia after the breakup. Serbs complained of ill-treatment at the hands of ethnic Albanians, tensions heated up, and ethnic Albanians declared independence from Serbia in 1990. This was a problem because Kosovo was not divided into Serbian and Albanian sections, the two groups lived together.
War broke out in 1992 and in 1999 the genocide began. If genocide is to ugly a word for you, you can use ethnic-cleansing instead. Serbia started bombing the heck out of Kosovo, so after a few verbal shots across the bow, NATO bombed the crap out of Serbia. Kosovo has been a UN Protectorate since 1999, and Kosovo declared itself independant in 2008 (yes, again). In the last decade, reprisals against Serbians have been more common than violence directed at Albanians. Serbian Kosovars boycotted the election and established their own council in the town of Mitrovica.
As you can see, it's complicated. We spent most of our time in the Albanian region of Kosovo, where the Orthodox churches that haven't been destroyed are protected by KFOR armed guards. KFOR is Kosovo Force, the NATO troops that are keeping the peace. Most Serbs, but not all, have fled to the north, and most Albanians to the south.
Here's the little bit that we have learned first hand from being here. For one, most Kosovars do not harbor feelings of hate for other people groups. One police officer spoke with pride of the diversity in his town, Prizren. "Where else in Europe can you find a Mosque, an Orthodox church, and a Catholic church all in the city center?" he asked. He very much wanted to impart everyone's desire to move on and get along.
The other main observation is that Kosovo is ready to move on. Construction is happening everywhere, the economy is starting to get rolling, and EU membership is the hot topic of conversation. People are not sitting around feeling sorry for themselves. It is very cool to see.
Lastly, it has been awesome to feel like we are walking through history in the making. The hilltop park near our guesthouse had a war memorial and memorial to the late President, who just died in 2006. Roadside memorials flying the Albanian flag abound. It is very different than seeing a memorial from the French Revoultion or something like that. It is fresh and real, and that made it somewhat emotional in a vague way for me.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Things Fall Apart
This continues from the same day we went to Kotor. We took an afternoon bus to Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro, to catch the night bus to Pristina. I want our family to know that we thought long and hard about posting this (I typed it out 3 days ago), or just keeping it to ourselves, but we are out of Kosovo now and it is in the past. Besides, it seems even less scary having spent time in the country. In other words, don't worry about us!
6pm - The Lonely Planet guide to Podgorica helpfully provides the names and addresses of some important locations, like an internet cafe and some good restaurants. However, they fail to provide a map, any hint as to where these locations may be, and for that manner, the direction of the city center when you get off the bus.
8pm - After wandering around the town for an hour, which is constrcuted 99.3% of cement, we stumbled into an internet cafe and found a decent place to eat. No couches, so our plans were unchanged. We enjoyed our pizza and risotto while listening to Soft Rock Hits from 1991 and prepared for the long haul to Pristina.
10pm: "No bus to Pristina. No bus tonight." This was one of those rare instances where I've seen Morgan aghast. Aghast is something some people are more than others, but Morgan- she's a cool cucumber. But tonight? She had "Whaaaa?" written all over her face. I probably did too, as we had purchased our tickets to Pristina just 3 hours earlier from the very same ticket agent now telling us there was no bus. Apparently the pass was closed due to snow, so there would be no bus that night.
"Bus to Raska, then bus to Pristina!" offered the suddenly helpful ticket agent. It involved crossing into Serbia, and then south to Kosovo, but it might just work. Allegedly a bus to Pristina rolled through Raska 20 minutes after we would be dropped off. It sounded good, but I had to make sure of one thing.
"Station? Not stop? Not just road?" I asked, waving my arms larger and smaller. This was an effort to communicate our desire to avoid standing on a curb in the middle of some unknown part of Serbia at 4am.
"Yes, big bus station," she reassured me.
4am - As we stood on the curb in the middle of some unknown part of Serbia, I felt like a fool. After taking every precaution to be safe, the trip had somehow gotten away from me. We didn't feel unsafe, because their were a few people around (cab drivers and the like), but it was frigid. We had on all the layers we possessed, and it was not enough. On top of that, Americans are not reputed to be the most popular of people in southern Serbia, from which Kosovo only seperated with help from NATO. A bus came by, but it was going to Mitrovica, not Pristina. We let it go. 30 minutes later another bus came, also for Mitrovica. I checked the map, and Mitrovica was halfway between Pristina and wherever the heck we were now, so we got on. Not dying of exposure was an added bonus.
5:30am: The bus arrived in Mitrovica, and people got off. The driver indicated to us in Serbian that we needed to go down to the bridge and go across to catch a bus to Pristina. Actually, the only word I understood was "bridge" (most), but we figured it out. Two other guys got off the bus with us, and the bus driver told them we were trying to get Pristina. So was one of them.
As we walked across the bridge they communicated that Mirovica was the border between Albanian and Serbian Kosovo. Their were police officers and KFOR (Kosovo Force) officers all over the place, so that made we feel better about being in a place that had been the center of the unrest. We left the Serbian side of town and entered the Albaninan side. It was very reassuring to know that we had left the an area were Americans are as unpopular as anywhere in the Balkans, and entered into a place where Bill Clinton was honored as a war hero. All separated by just one bridge. Crazy.
In an effort to communicate, the guys asked us if we spoke French. Nope, only English. Then they asked if we spoke German. I felt so stupid. Here are these guys living in a worn torn country, who probably speak 4 languages, and yet we come there with nada (ok, I guess I know some espanol).
6am: We got to the bus stop at the first crack of dawn. "Chai?" The guys took us across the street to a 24 hour coffee shop and we sipped tea with a half a dozen other Albanian Kosovars while we waited for the bus. I tried to pay, because they had been so helpful to us, but they were having none of it. One of them threw down a euro to cover the four of us. Then one of the guys had the idea that we could share a taxi and not have to wait. This seemed like a good idea to us, and at this point we were fairly tired of being cold, so that's exactly what we did.
7:30am - After switching taxis and driving to our hotel, we collapsed onto our bed, curled up, and went to sleep.
Note 1: I looked at our guidebook in the taxi, and it said something along the lines of "Don't go to Mitrovica." It was the site of serious ethnic conflict in 2006, the worst since 1999. However, the State Department has, as of January 2009, taken down any travel advisories for the region.
Note 2: We have a rule that in any situation, our safety is more important than the feelings of anyone with us, no matter how nice they seem to be. A few days before this, we parted with a guy offering us a ride who seemed fine to me, but gave Morgan a weird vibe. In that case, we are always safety first. The entire night of these events, we never felt truly unsafe. I even pestered Morgan with questions about her comfort level, and she seemed as at peace with the turn of events as myself. Thanks to all of you who were praying for us.
6pm - The Lonely Planet guide to Podgorica helpfully provides the names and addresses of some important locations, like an internet cafe and some good restaurants. However, they fail to provide a map, any hint as to where these locations may be, and for that manner, the direction of the city center when you get off the bus.
8pm - After wandering around the town for an hour, which is constrcuted 99.3% of cement, we stumbled into an internet cafe and found a decent place to eat. No couches, so our plans were unchanged. We enjoyed our pizza and risotto while listening to Soft Rock Hits from 1991 and prepared for the long haul to Pristina.
10pm: "No bus to Pristina. No bus tonight." This was one of those rare instances where I've seen Morgan aghast. Aghast is something some people are more than others, but Morgan- she's a cool cucumber. But tonight? She had "Whaaaa?" written all over her face. I probably did too, as we had purchased our tickets to Pristina just 3 hours earlier from the very same ticket agent now telling us there was no bus. Apparently the pass was closed due to snow, so there would be no bus that night.
"Bus to Raska, then bus to Pristina!" offered the suddenly helpful ticket agent. It involved crossing into Serbia, and then south to Kosovo, but it might just work. Allegedly a bus to Pristina rolled through Raska 20 minutes after we would be dropped off. It sounded good, but I had to make sure of one thing.
"Station? Not stop? Not just road?" I asked, waving my arms larger and smaller. This was an effort to communicate our desire to avoid standing on a curb in the middle of some unknown part of Serbia at 4am.
"Yes, big bus station," she reassured me.
4am - As we stood on the curb in the middle of some unknown part of Serbia, I felt like a fool. After taking every precaution to be safe, the trip had somehow gotten away from me. We didn't feel unsafe, because their were a few people around (cab drivers and the like), but it was frigid. We had on all the layers we possessed, and it was not enough. On top of that, Americans are not reputed to be the most popular of people in southern Serbia, from which Kosovo only seperated with help from NATO. A bus came by, but it was going to Mitrovica, not Pristina. We let it go. 30 minutes later another bus came, also for Mitrovica. I checked the map, and Mitrovica was halfway between Pristina and wherever the heck we were now, so we got on. Not dying of exposure was an added bonus.
5:30am: The bus arrived in Mitrovica, and people got off. The driver indicated to us in Serbian that we needed to go down to the bridge and go across to catch a bus to Pristina. Actually, the only word I understood was "bridge" (most), but we figured it out. Two other guys got off the bus with us, and the bus driver told them we were trying to get Pristina. So was one of them.
As we walked across the bridge they communicated that Mirovica was the border between Albanian and Serbian Kosovo. Their were police officers and KFOR (Kosovo Force) officers all over the place, so that made we feel better about being in a place that had been the center of the unrest. We left the Serbian side of town and entered the Albaninan side. It was very reassuring to know that we had left the an area were Americans are as unpopular as anywhere in the Balkans, and entered into a place where Bill Clinton was honored as a war hero. All separated by just one bridge. Crazy.
In an effort to communicate, the guys asked us if we spoke French. Nope, only English. Then they asked if we spoke German. I felt so stupid. Here are these guys living in a worn torn country, who probably speak 4 languages, and yet we come there with nada (ok, I guess I know some espanol).
6am: We got to the bus stop at the first crack of dawn. "Chai?" The guys took us across the street to a 24 hour coffee shop and we sipped tea with a half a dozen other Albanian Kosovars while we waited for the bus. I tried to pay, because they had been so helpful to us, but they were having none of it. One of them threw down a euro to cover the four of us. Then one of the guys had the idea that we could share a taxi and not have to wait. This seemed like a good idea to us, and at this point we were fairly tired of being cold, so that's exactly what we did.
7:30am - After switching taxis and driving to our hotel, we collapsed onto our bed, curled up, and went to sleep.
Note 1: I looked at our guidebook in the taxi, and it said something along the lines of "Don't go to Mitrovica." It was the site of serious ethnic conflict in 2006, the worst since 1999. However, the State Department has, as of January 2009, taken down any travel advisories for the region.
Note 2: We have a rule that in any situation, our safety is more important than the feelings of anyone with us, no matter how nice they seem to be. A few days before this, we parted with a guy offering us a ride who seemed fine to me, but gave Morgan a weird vibe. In that case, we are always safety first. The entire night of these events, we never felt truly unsafe. I even pestered Morgan with questions about her comfort level, and she seemed as at peace with the turn of events as myself. Thanks to all of you who were praying for us.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Bay of Kotor
Day 43: We've got a whole lot to share about our last week. I'll spread it out over a few posts.
Tuesday, 8am -We awoke in our Budva Hostel (Montenegro) to cold, wind and rain. I got up, and pulled some clothes on, with a mind to see if we had couches in Pristina, Skopje, or Tirana. As luck would have it, the power was out. We had endured the miserable weather a day earlier and did not have a mind to do it again. We had gone to the top of Lovcen National Park, but couldn't see a thing, and had to head back down.
The weather had been so bad, that we had been forced to buy umbrellas, something I swore I would never do. "I will eat pizza with a fork and knife," I had spouted to Morgan back in Innsbruck, "but I will never use an umbrella." Well, this video might give you an idea of why it was necessary. Sorry, but you'll have to turn your head sideways:
9am - Morgan emerged from cocoon to come down and have breakfast with me, and fortunately, the skies cleared. We packed our bags and prepared to move out. Leaving the big packs at the hostel, we took on a day trip to Kotor, a walled city in the crevice of a mountain by the bay.
12am - Let me just say that Kotor is quite possibly the most beautiful place I have ever been. It was windy as heck, but we climbed the ancient fortifications to the fortress above town. No gift shop, no cafe, no audio guide, no funicular shuttling up tourists who are incapable of climbing up themselves. The fortress and walls were in a state unchanged except by time itself. This was the way historical monuments should be.
I strongly recommend clicking on the picture above to go to our flickr site, and taking 5 minutes to look at the photos from this place. It was amazing.
Tuesday, 8am -We awoke in our Budva Hostel (Montenegro) to cold, wind and rain. I got up, and pulled some clothes on, with a mind to see if we had couches in Pristina, Skopje, or Tirana. As luck would have it, the power was out. We had endured the miserable weather a day earlier and did not have a mind to do it again. We had gone to the top of Lovcen National Park, but couldn't see a thing, and had to head back down.
The weather had been so bad, that we had been forced to buy umbrellas, something I swore I would never do. "I will eat pizza with a fork and knife," I had spouted to Morgan back in Innsbruck, "but I will never use an umbrella." Well, this video might give you an idea of why it was necessary. Sorry, but you'll have to turn your head sideways:
9am - Morgan emerged from cocoon to come down and have breakfast with me, and fortunately, the skies cleared. We packed our bags and prepared to move out. Leaving the big packs at the hostel, we took on a day trip to Kotor, a walled city in the crevice of a mountain by the bay.
12am - Let me just say that Kotor is quite possibly the most beautiful place I have ever been. It was windy as heck, but we climbed the ancient fortifications to the fortress above town. No gift shop, no cafe, no audio guide, no funicular shuttling up tourists who are incapable of climbing up themselves. The fortress and walls were in a state unchanged except by time itself. This was the way historical monuments should be.
I strongly recommend clicking on the picture above to go to our flickr site, and taking 5 minutes to look at the photos from this place. It was amazing.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
In Search of the Untouched
A constant tension throughout our trip has been the draw to see beautiful, interesting things contrasting with our desire to get off the beaten track. Some places, however cool they might be, are a little less cool when there are more tourists than locals.
Yesterday we were talking to a man who lives inside the Old City of Dubrovnik. The old city seems to consist of only tourists and services that cater to tourists, which is really rather depressing. The man told us that nobody who actually lives inside the old city can use any of the services provided inside the old city. They have to go outside to find anything that isn't tourist rubbish.
Today we went on a day trip with two Aussies and a Croat whose family runs our hostel. The destination? Bosnia-Herzegovina and the city of Mostar. It certainly felt more off the beaten track; I mean, we're talking about Bosnia, right? The town was really cool, with mosques on one side and churches on the other, a beautiful bridge connecting the two. Local young men jump off the bridge into the river for cash from tourists. I felt that as we were walking down the streets trying to get a glimpse of the East, Turkish tourists were walking by on their vacations trying to get a glimpse of the west. Kind of eerie, but also very cool.
On the way there, our guide told us all about the history of the area, with the bias that is essential to this region that was rocked by the war with Serbia. It's hard to blame someone for resentment when just 15 years ago his family was huddled in a hotel with the rest of the town while their home was shelled by the Serbs. It was really a good illustration of how complicated the history and relations of the region are. When I asked him about the destruction of Stari Most (the Old Bridge, which has since been rebuilt), he mumbled something about a conspiracy that blamed the Croats. I stuck to the policy of ask, but don't argue.
We also learned the jokes about each of the ethnic groups in the area. Something like, "A Serb, a Croat, a Herzegovina, a Montenegrin and a Bosnian walk into a bar...." Each one has it's own stereotype and punchline. Yikes. One joke that I will share reflects a little bit of recent history. "Serbia is now like Nokia. Every year is a different, smaller model." It has been a tough 15 years for the Serbs, shedding one country after another in the Yugoslav wars, then losing Montenegro and, most recently, Europe's newest country Kosovo.
So, the big change in plans for our trip. Tomorrow we are heading to Montenegro, and in a few more days to Albania! We will still go to Greece, just not for as long. The way we figure it, Albania and Montenegro are going to be completely different in 5 or 10 years. They are already vastly changed from 5 years ago. It was clear even in Mostar that things had changed dramatically in the last few years (there was some awesome war memorabilia that I'm sure was half the asking price a few years back). The Greek islands, on the other hand, are not going to change much. We have an opportunity to explore relatively unspoilt countries, and it would be a shame to pass that up.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Vacancy at the Shangri-La
"Hey Tommy, did you know this place is owned by the Chinese mafia?"
"Really? I thought you were in the Croatian mafia"
"HAHAHA! You are a funny guy, Tommy!"
The Shangri-La Hostel in Supetar, Croatia has several difference's from the Shangri-La Motel in Bellingham, WA
It is not a pay by the hour establishment.
It is located on a beautiful island.
It is owned and operated in part by Vinko, a Croatian law student with a very positive demeanor and great sense of humor.
"Hey Tommy, I have special deal for you. Pomegranate for one euro each. HAHAHA!"
(After bringing home a bag of pomegranates to share from his parents ouse, Vinko had learned the price in the US).
For two days the entire hostel consisted of to Croatians, an Aussie, a Canadian, and two Americans (us). Considering that three of these people were workng at the hostel, things were just the way we like it. Slow.
O the third day, however, over 25 people were there. Hostel owners from around the former Yugoslavia (Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, Montenegro, etc.) had come to Supetar for an end of the year celebration. It was a blast, but we were happy to move on to Korcula the following day.
"Tommy, I will give you the information for all of my friends. You will have place to stay in Hvar, Korcula, Dubrovnik, Mostar-"
I cut in before Vinko had a chance to send us to Sarajevo or Belgrade. Maybe next time.
Here in Korcula we are planning the next leg of our trip. It looks like Bosnia, Montenegro and Albania are all on the plate for next week before we get ourselves into Greece! Yesterday we went to the beach and cliff jumping with a few other travelers and Dragan, the owner of our hostel, "Dragan's Den." Morgan did a backflip from 20 meters!
Ok, Morgan didn't jump, but she did oblige the vanity of everyone else by being the photographer!
Peace out, we'll write again before we head into new territory- countries that we had no intention of visiting until we saw how much ferry tickets to Athens cost!
Oh, almost forgot. We got to ride a LASER BOAT!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Two Stories
Well, we're not going to wait forever! Here are two stories from the above list...
Cheese: This one is pretty straightforward. For lunch one day I ordered a pizza and Morgan ordered four cheese lasagna. Her dish was basically a bowl of cheese with one flat noodle in it. Having eaten bread and cheese almost exclusively for a week, eating an entire pizza and then half a bowl of cheese plugged me up pretty good. Yikes!
Now for the aquatic hitchhiking. Morgan and I took a car ferry to Sali, a town on Dugi Otok (otok is Croatian for "island"). It was then 12km to our destination, a salt water lake an cliffs in a National Park on the south tip of the island. We stuck our thumbs out (all part of the plan), and after 20 minutes and 2 cars we secured a ride.
As amazing the ride was in the back of the convertible, winding up and down hills under the blazing sun, we couldn't help but think of the return trip. Based on the fact that we passed no other cars, we were pretty sure we'd be walking.
The park was beautiful!
As we prepared ourselves for the long walk back to Sali, Morgan had a brilliant idea. Why not ask one of the boats parked for a day excursion how much they would charge to take us back to mainland. We sidled up to one boat, talked to a girl working on board, and she told us to hop on, free of charge! Booyah. Instead of a 12k walk and a$10 car ferry, we had half an excursion through the islands for free.
Burpee Count: 132
Cheese: This one is pretty straightforward. For lunch one day I ordered a pizza and Morgan ordered four cheese lasagna. Her dish was basically a bowl of cheese with one flat noodle in it. Having eaten bread and cheese almost exclusively for a week, eating an entire pizza and then half a bowl of cheese plugged me up pretty good. Yikes!
Now for the aquatic hitchhiking. Morgan and I took a car ferry to Sali, a town on Dugi Otok (otok is Croatian for "island"). It was then 12km to our destination, a salt water lake an cliffs in a National Park on the south tip of the island. We stuck our thumbs out (all part of the plan), and after 20 minutes and 2 cars we secured a ride.
As amazing the ride was in the back of the convertible, winding up and down hills under the blazing sun, we couldn't help but think of the return trip. Based on the fact that we passed no other cars, we were pretty sure we'd be walking.
The park was beautiful!
As we prepared ourselves for the long walk back to Sali, Morgan had a brilliant idea. Why not ask one of the boats parked for a day excursion how much they would charge to take us back to mainland. We sidled up to one boat, talked to a girl working on board, and she told us to hop on, free of charge! Booyah. Instead of a 12k walk and a$10 car ferry, we had half an excursion through the islands for free.
Burpee Count: 132
Thursday, October 1, 2009
If the past week of our trip was a book by A.A. Milne*
These would be some of the chapter titles:
*Go to your bookshelf or nearest neighborhood library for a reference.
Check out the name of this cafe!
- In which aliens speak Croatian
- In which a 2 hour swimming trip involves 5 hours of buses and 5 hours of waiting for buses
- In which Mo and To succeed at the market
- In which Mo and To discover the secret of the supermarket sandwich
- In which Mo and To add an aquatic dimension to hitch hiking
- In which Mo orders a bowl of cheese and To has a dam in his colon
*Go to your bookshelf or nearest neighborhood library for a reference.
Check out the name of this cafe!
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