The Transition Artist

The past week has provided a whirlwind of activity I never even dreamed was possible until it was happening. I write currently from the seat of a Norweigan Airlines flight (which I highly recommend for both cost and convenience) from Stockholm to Paris, after setting foot in 4 different countries in one week. In all fairness, one country was Italy and I only stopped through for about 50 minutes on the world’s quickest layover, but, nonetheless, I’ve been all over the place and living out of a backpack for the past 11 days. 

I started my travels on a trip to Montengro last weekend with my best friend and roommate. Being that I’m somewhat of a “fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants” traveler, I planned the trip for Easter weekend back in January within 10 minutes of having done a Google search of, “Where is Montenegro?” after seeing “Budva, Montenegro” on a list of top 50 travel destinations for people in their 20s. For those of you who are equally as unaware as I was, Montenegro is a tiny country located between Croatia and Albania on the Adriatic Sea. Embarrassed you haven’t heard of it? You can feel a little better knowing it’s only been an independent country since 2006 (it was once a part of Serbia).

My trip to Budva, Montenegro was wildly adventurous and probably the most hilariously unprepared voyages I’ve ever taken, but will go down in history as the trip with the most stories I probably shouldn’t tell.

Emma and I arrived in Podgorica, the location one of the two airports in Montenegro, Friday morning excited and groggy from our early morning flight. We had done just enough research the night before to realize that Montenegro is, in fact, a developing country, and that there was no international cell phone coverage, and that the nearest bus to Budva was 15-20 minutes by car from the airport. So we arrived that morning at what can appropriately be referred to as an airplane hangar, looked at each other, then the mountains surrounding us, giddily yipped with glee at the already impressive views, and shrugged, laughing as we looked for a cab to the bus station.

We drove through Podgorica and had a quick lunch at the bus station (where I ordered a pizza that we’re still convinced was topped with heaps of yogurt, but may have been sour cream) before buying tickets and boarding our bus to Budva. The other side of the window revealed what “developing country” means in terms of actual physical development, with the concrete shells of unfinished buildings and slow moving construction sites scattered through much of the city. The scenery changed, however, after about an hour on the bus, as we approached Budva on the downslope of a mountain pass. We gasped and scrambled for our cameras as the bus wound down the mountain, at the bottom of which lay the small city of Budva and, beyond it, the beautiful, crystal blue water of the Adriatic Sea. 

We bought a completely useless map of the city (as it only a few marked streets and primarily pictures) at the bus station in order to find our way to our hostel. We had more luck merely asking for “Stari Grad” (the old town) and following street signs. Though the town itself wasn’t really bustling (tourist season is Budva begins in May and typically lasts until September or October, we found out), we were pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to navigate, and how inexpensive costs of food and lodging were. Montenegro uses the Euro, but the prices of meals, beverages, and transport was quite literally a small fraction of what we’ve gotten accustomed to paying in Paris.

Our stay in old town at the Montenegro Old Town Hostel was so phenomenal that I would recommend it to anyone and everyone (under the age of 30), and would go back myself multiple times over. Our hostel manager B.G. was incredibly kind and welcoming (she even made us pie), and we spent all of our evenings with her son and the hostel hero himself, Sasa (Sasha), who showed us the best time Budva has to offer. Though our stay was colder than we anticipated, we spent our first day on the beach, highly determined to wear the swimsuits we brought along, and spent the following days exploring the the little city of Budva, and the surrounding areas of Kotor and Bar. To be brief in my recap: we learned the hard way that there is next to nothing in Bar unless you 1. Have a boat, or 2. Are seeking a fishing and/or cargo port (unless you make it to the “Stari Bar,” the old town, which we didn’t). However, Kotor, though more heavily touristed, was entirely worth the 3€ bus fare and day trip.

Easter Sunday will go down in history as probably the best Easters either of us has ever experienced in our lives. We didn’t wake up early, the Easter bunny didn’t come, and we didn’t wear pastels. Instead, we slept in, had a fantastic brunch of strong coffee, eggs, smoked ham, cheese, tomatoes, bread, and fresh squeezed grapefruit juice at a restaurant on the beach and soaked up warm sunshine as we watched the waves lap against the shoreline, and then took the bus to Kotor, where we hiked to a fortress on a mountainside and sat overlooking the small cities, mountains, and sea alike, drinking the two beers we brought along and eating oranges. The next day we managed to make it to to Sveti Stefan (or rather the area around it), an island run by a hotel that costs roughly $3,000 per night. Being that our lifestyles are a little more “we-pay-6-euro-a-night-for-a-hostel” and “I’ll-take-the-two-euro-beer-please” (I.e. student budget friendly), we opted to grab a tasty lunch in a nearby cafe and then sit on the beach across from the island, before making a grand attempt to take the bus to Bar. All that needs to be said of our experience in Bar is: we were there for a total of 15 minutes.

Although it was forecasted to rain, we got lucky and the rain only came down at night, missing us completely during the day. In a hilarious turn of events, it was actually warmer in Paris than in Budva that weekend and the majority of our observations of Montenegro ended with, “probably better in the summer,” but the stunning views, hilarious adventures (and misadventures..), and great laughs we shared with some friends we made in the hostel made the trip well worth it. Sasha, a hostel hero from Serbia who I feel like I’ve known all my life, was a big part of why the trip was so wonderful. We were advised on where to go, given Serbian lessons, taken out for a grand time at “the bar” (I.e. The only open bar), and spent an entire evening eating bizarre junk food (bacon crackers anyone?) discussing Eastern Europe, tourists from all cultures, and everything in between. The trip, spontaneous as it was, was an absolute breath of fresh air, and a reminder of how big (and sometimes small) the world really is.