Best and Worst Europe 2009

Awhile back, Greg and I decided that we should rank things best and worst. We saw some really great sites, stayed in some great hotels/hostels, and ate at a couple of great restaurants. But we also saw the worst of all of those things. So here it is, the Best and Worst List 2009:

Best and Worst of Europe 2009

Best Island: Korcula, Croatia

Best historical thing: G-Colosseum, Rome, Italy / E- old town Korcula

Best View: Cinque Terre, Italy

Best Beach: Yet to be found

Worst Beach: Alimia Beach, Iraklia, Greece

Best Hotel/Hostel: LaDespani, Brasov, Romania RUNNER UP Windmill Studios, Naxos, Greece

Worst Hotel/Hostel: Studio Nitsa, Kos, Greece AND Guesthouse Milisa, Split, Croatia

Best Chocolate: Ion Chocolate, Greece

Worst Chocolate: Nika Chocolate, Bosnia RUNNER UP Lacta Chocolate, Greece

Best Hike: Brasov, Romania; RUNNER UP Cinque Terre, Italy

Worst Hike: Iraklia, Greece

Best Dessert: G-yogurt with honey and walnuts, Greece; RUNNER UP gelato, Italy / E-gelato, Italy

Best Bread: G-ham bread in Venice, Italy / E-Turkey

Best Cheese: Cinque Terre, Italy

Best Museum: G-Prado, Madrid, Spain / E: Uffizzi Gallery, Florence, Italy

Worst Museum: Cinque Terre Museum, Italy

Best Castle: G- London Tower, London, England RUNNERS UP Peles Castle, Sinaia, Romania and Bran Castle, Bran, Romania E- Bran Castle, Bran, Romania

Best City: G- Budapest, Hungary / E- Korcula Town, Croatia

Worst City: G- Barcelona, Spain / E- London

Best Restaurant: La Bucatarul Vesel, Brasov, Romania

Worst Restaurant: [insert name here] Istanbul, Turkey

Best Nightlife: G-Madrid

Best Landscape: Slovenia, RUNNERS UP Romania and Cinque Terre

Worst Landscape: Greece

Best Subterranean Experience: G-Labyrinth, Budapest; RUNNER UP Iraklia, Greece / E- Iraklia, Greece

Best Local Brew: Ursus Black, Romania

Worst Local Brew: Mythos, Greece

Best Local Liquor: G-Raki, Greece / E-Visinata, Romania

Worst Local Liquor: Palinka, Romania

Best-Preserved Old City: G- Ephesus, Turkey / E- Lucca, Italy

Best Backdoor Destination: Lucca, Italy

Best Weather: Greece

Worst Weather: Ephesus, Turkey

Best Backpacker Meal: G- sausage stuffing made in Kos, Greece / E-Grilled Cheese Sandwich in Naxos, Greece

Worst Backpacker Meal: Bread and water on the 24-hour train journey from Istanbul to Brasov, Romania AND mushroom soup with gnocchi

Best Food Item: G-pizza (Rome), kebabs (Turkey), gyros (Greece), rabbit and lamb (Iraklia), so much good stuff!, figs (Croatia), uhhh, eggplant pepper sauce (Croatia), goulash (Hungary), tomato soup (Budapest), beef and bell peppers / E- 4-cheese pasta, Brasov, Romania

Worst Food Item: yogurt cucumber soup and grilled eggplant, Istanbul, Turkey AND all food at the kiosk next to the Szechenyi Bathhouse, Budapest, Hungary

Most Interesting Language: Greek

Most Challenging Language Barrier: Turkish

Least Challenging Language Barrier: Romanian

Most Interestingly Dressed Locals: Romania

Most Relaxing Place: Tie between Korcula, Croatia and Iraklia, Greece

Least Relaxing Place: Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, Turkey

Scariest Moment: E-cave in Iraklia, Greece AND riding the catamaran between Split to Korcula, Croatia in stormy seas/ G- almost getting stuck sleeping on the street in Milan, Italy

Biggest Culture Shock: G- Turkey

Cheesiest Tourist Trap: G- TBD / E- Peles Castle, Sinaia, Romania AND ferry from Kos to Bodrum (were told we were going to Bodrum, but ended up an hour away in Turgetreis)

Most Picturesque: Bled, Slovenia AND Cinque Terre, Italy

Longest Distance Walked: approximately 22 kilometers, Iraklia, Greece

Longest Travel Day: 24 hours, train between Istanbul, Turkey and Brasov, Romania

Hardest Border Crossing: Between Turkey and Bulgaria - having to get off the train in the middle of the night (E - AND Croatia to Montenegro - having my passport taken at the Croatia border, the bus continuing, and not receiving it back until after the border crossing in Montenegro.

Easiest Border Crossing: Croatia to Bosnia to Croatia to Bosnia to Croatia to Bosnia to Croatia

Best Europop Song Sung by an American (aka Most Frequently Heard Song on the Radio): Poker Face by Lady Gaga.

Most Mosquito Bites Received: Iraklia, Greece AND Bodrum, Turkey (17 on the back of 1 of my calves) AND Dubrovnik, Croatia

Best Ocean Swim Spot: Dubrovnik, Croatia

Best Inside Joke: Robby and Happiness AND two horsies kissing

Most Expensive Country: Italy

Least Expensive Country: Romania

Best Fortress: E - Kotor Fortress

Worst Hawker Experience: In Santorini when some guy actually followed us on his scooter trying to offer us a room.

Best Serious Funny Statement from a Foreigner: You are catching a nice color. (translates to: You are getting a nice tan.)

Biggest Revelation: I found Jesus! (He was behind the sofa all the time!)

Dancing Through Europe

While in Turkey, I saw a couple of little girls performing the same dance. Inspired, I developed the Happy Turkey Dance. In subsequent countries, I was compelled to develop other dances of the same calibre. Here, you will see the results of my painstaking efforts. Remember that there is a lot of skill involved in developing and performing these cultural dances.

The Happy Turkey Dance

The Romanian Running Man


The Hungary Belly Dance

The Slovenly Slovenian Swing

The Berserk Bosnian Bus Ballet



The Merry Montenegrin Merengue


The Croat Goat Dance (pronounced Crow-at Go-at)

Back Home

I’m home. I’ve been home a couple of days trying to recover from the flights home: a nine-hour flight, a six-hour layover, and a two-hour flight. I was completely exhausted by the time I finally arrived home. I actually fell asleep fairly easily and at a reasonable hour (take that chronic insomnia).

Since I’ve been home I’ve been doing boring things like hanging up clothes, going through a gigantic stack of mail, and general organizing.

Home Sweet Home.

24 Hours of Flying

24 June 2009

It’s been a long day. The adventure started at 5.15 AM GMT when I woke up and won't end until 10 PM CST (6 AM GMT) tonight when I finally arrive home.

I was on the 9 AM flight from London Gatwick to Atlanta. It took somewhere around an hour to get through check-in and security, but I made it to my flight on time.

The flight wasn't bad; I spent the time watching movies.

The flight arrived early and I spent my 6-hour layover in Atlanta talking to friends and family.

And here I am somewhere between Atlanta and Austin. The flight is supposed to come in a few minutes early (yay!)

Later...

Back to London

Today, I went to see As You Like It at the Globe here in London. The play was absolutely fantastic! The actors were fabulous and really made the play come alive. I bought a 5 pound standing yard ticket. Although my feet hurt after standing for 2 1/2 hours, the pain was worth it.

The story: Rosalind's father has been exiled. Her uncle has taken over. She and her cousin are inseparable. Unfortunately, the uncle hates her and tells her she must leave. Not wanting to separate from her cousin, Rosalind dresses as a man and her cousin dresses as a common woman. The two steal away in the night taking the court jester with them. All this time, Rosalind is pining for Orlando, a boy she saw win a wrestling match. And of course, he's been pining for her too, writing her bad poetry. Rosalind's manly state causes some problems, but everything works out (Orlando happens to love her either way).
In the end, everybody gets married. Orlando and Rosalind, the jester and a local woman, Phoebe and a shepherd boy (a troubled couple the two girls meet in the forest), and Rosalind's cousin and Orlando's brother.

This is a simplified version of the story, but you get the idea. It's actually quite a good story.After the play, I walked next door to Tate Modern and stayed until closing time.

At the Airport

June 22, 2009
5.17 PM

I have arrived at the Dubrovnik airport and am waiting for check-in to start (in another hour or so). It’s pouring - I can hear the rain over the music of my mp3 player.

There are two buses a day from Herzeg Novi to Dubrovnik. The first would have been too early and I was worried the second was going to be too late. I asked the bus driver to stop at the airport, and he agreed (I had been told he’s known to stop at the airport on the way to Dubrovnik). Otherwise, I would have had to go to Dubrovnik and worry that the airport bus wouldn’t match up with my flight time. So although I arrived at the airport four hours before my flight, this option was preferable (and seven dollars cheaper!)

I didn’t manage to get out of the internet café until about noon. I actually wasn’t even sure I was going to go to Herzeg Novi until then. The rain almost stopped, so I decided to go for it. I walked quickly to the bus station thinking I would be waiting awhile. I bought the ticket and was pointed to a bus that was backing up. I ran for it. I couldn’t have timed it any better. And bonus: the bus was 50 cents cheaper than I had been quoted.

Rain fell the entire time I was on the bus, so I was actually expecting to end up sitting at a café in Herzeg Novi for a couple of hours. Fortunately, the rain stopped long enough for me to explore Herzeg Novi a bit. Fortunately, the old town isn’t big and I had no trouble seeing the town in an hour or so.

Old town entrance.

Main square in old town.

The fortress.

New town.

I headed back to the bus station early, just in case. I was anticipating something going terribly wrong - I couldn’t imagine 3 buses, 1 airplane, and 2 trains all going without a hitch. Surprisingly, my only hitch (so far) has been a problem with the bus ticket between Herzeg Novi and Dubrovnik. When I arrived in Herzeg Novi, I asked to buy a ticket thinking that I would spend the remainder of the money. I was told that I could only buy the ticket on the bus. Apparently, the bus driver hadn’t heard that, because he sent me back to the cashier to buy a ticket (which she did). I suppose it depends on who is working. Fortunately (how many fortunatelys is that?), the driver was really nice and told me not to worry, just get the ticket and come back; he would wait.

Unfortunately, since I wasn’t sure how much the ticket would cost (I was told 8 Euro, but I didn’t quite trust that information), I couldn’t spend much of anything. I got a couple of small snacks, but I am sitting here starving and will very possibly be starving until tomorrow morning. Even if I had money to spend, there really isn’t much of anything in this airport and nothing worth spending money on.

I need to move. The woman next to me is driving me crazy. She’s pacing around eating a banana and just sprayed herself with a ton of deodorant.

Kotor Photos

As promised, here they are. This isn't everything, but everything overloaded bubbleshare, so I've posted whatever went through.

My Buddy George

22 June 2009

It is raining. And cold. And raining. I’ve missed the morning bus to Dubrovnik and the afternoon bus is at 2.45.

A lot of things had to go right for me today, and no rain was the first step. As far as I know, it’s rained all night. I had planned on going to Herzeg Novi this morning (effectively ridding myself of George and the Woman in Red.)

And they all know I’m leaving this morning. They all asked. And none of them were satisfied with “the morning.” They all wanted a time.

Great. It has just started raining harder.

It seems that my choices are going to be: go to Herzeg Novi anyways in the pouring rain (I’m not talking about drizzle here), 2. stay here until the afternoon bus, trapped inside this hostel with all those that drive me insane.

I think the pouring rain is preferable.

I must go - it’s 8.01 and I told George I would leave at 10 or 11 which means he may be here at 9.30... I really don’t want him to walk me to the bus station.

10.30 AM

I am sitting in the restaurant/internet cafe sipping cold coffee and checking my email. I've instructed the girls at the hostel to tell George that I left awhile back (so he won't try to go find me at the bus station).

The Woman in Red just walked in! Seriously. She is here. She didn't see me (thank you J-Man!), but she's only about 5 feet away from me. I have no hope of escaping without being forced to talk to her. There goes my relaxing morning at the internet cafe.

I was forced into a few minutes of awkward conversation... but she's gone now.

I'll let you know the rest of the story when I know myself...

George, George, and More George

10.53 PM

I thought I’d seen the last of George. This afternoon. When I almost ran into him, but because of my keen eyesight, I managed to avoid him and watch him climb into a taxi from a safe distance.

I’d thought I’d seen the last of him earlier in the day (before the taxi incident), but I was mistaken. Wow was I mistaken.

I now have his email address and am very frightened that he will show up in the morning to help me to the bus station.

Let me paint you a picture…

The sky was ominous and threatening. The hostel was silent. The boy from Singapore was here, but was alone in his single room. George must have gotten his key back, because he didn’t buzz to come up. I was in the dorm room alone, packing. One second I was trying to figure out where to stuff a shoe and the next second I was staring at George. My heart must have stopped - I was terrified.

What was going to happen? What did he want from me? Why me? Why can’t he take a hint?

He offered to help me to the bus station tomorrow. I declined, saying that I only had one smallish bag and couldn’t possibly use any help.

He immediately asked if I wanted to go have some coffee at a restaurant (this is the moment when I decide he probably liiikes me. I told him that I thought I might have some plans with one of the girls in the hostel, but even if I didn’t, I still wanted to get to sleep early and hadn’t finished packing (I had actually, but he didn’t know that). So he politely went into the common area to wait and I proceeded to “pack.”

I was wearing my pajamas and didn’t look like I was ready to go out at all. In fact, I looked like I was ready to go to sleep. But can he take a hint? NO.

Eventually, the girl I’d claimed to have plans with returned. I informed her of our plans and she kindly agreed to assist me. The rest was easy. I brushed my teeth (again, for show) and said goodnight. George said he would maybe see me tomorrow (I surely hope not and I will do what I can to avoid him) and then decided he wanted my email address.

I hate that I was this rude, but I gave him a fake. Poor guy probably didn’t deserve that, but I didn’t deserve to be chased by three strange men all week either! And if I ever feel terrible about my actions, terrible enough to invite George back into my life, I have his email address.

Morning Montenegrin Madness

21 June 2009

It’s not even 10 AM yet and they’ve already busted through the door. Pero, The Woman in Red, and George. They are asking us if we want coffee and if we slept okay (I say yes although the answer is no). Me, the special favorite, am asked twice more if I want coffee and once more if I slept well and where I went while in Montenegro and was I okay and a thousand other things. I started to make French toast and then there were a whole host of other questions, “Do you have oil?” and “What are the ingredients?” and “Do you need a pan?” and so many other unnecessary questions. I did need a pan and had actually gotten one out. The Woman in Red put it away, and then realizing I would need a pan, got out the same pan. She showed me how to make coffee the Bosnian way. It looked a lot like the American instant way, but whatever. The kitchen... yes, seriously, it is built to look like a boat. I was told that this is a typical Montenegrin kitchen...

I finally finished making my French toast and sat down to eat. I didn’t allow myself to be trapped physically this time, but I was still definitely trapped. I ate quickly, but not quickly enough unfortunately. George told me about going to dinner at his sister’s house in Herzeg Novi. I politely said that it was nice he will get to see his sister. He hasn’t seen this sister in a year and a half.

Then, the worst thing possible happened. George asked me to go to his sister’s house with him for dinner. What could I do? I did the only thing I could think of to do, I said that I wasn’t sure, but I thought I had plans with the Serbian sisters. They kindly backed me up, but George didn't back down. He tried to convince me to go with him, telling me that it would be an excellent opportunity to experience traditional Montenegrin hospitality. That may be true, and I am sure his family is nice, but I don't think I am willing to be trapped on a bus next to George for an hour, then at his sister's house for a couple more hours, and then an hour on the returning bus. I think I would lose my mind. In fact, I know I would. I was desperately close this morning. I considered jumping out the window to escape him. I knew I would break myself, but breaking myself may be preferable to going insane. And besides, if he hasn't seen his sister in a year and a half and the only others at this get together are going to be family members, then I would not only feel awkward, but intrusive as well.

He asked again, insisted really, and again I said I thought I had plans. The Serbian sisters backed me up again saying I would see them off (they leave today). George, feeling trapped I suppose, invited them too. "I guess you can come too." As in, if he couldn't separate me from them, he would invite them too, but only if he had to and not because he wanted to.

Fortunately, the Woman in Red told him to go to the other hostel. I was safe for the moment. I left the hostel soon after and came to the restaurant (where I can connect for free). I must remain hidden for a few more hours. I want George to be safely on his way to his sister's. He can't find me, or else he will force me to go with him. He said we could go at 4 (it's 3.10 now), but when I told him I had plans at 4 he said we could go another time... whatever time is good for me.

I have every intention of leaving Kotor as early as I can in the morning, preferably before the workers barge in.

From Kotor, I'm off to Herzeg Novi for a few hours, and then back to Dubrovnik, Croatia to the airport. Tomorrow night, I'm flying to London, will stay until Wednesday, and then fly back to Austin. I am ready. I wasn't ready a week ago, but because of my insane experiences here, I'm totally ready.

More Man Problems

20 June 2009

Another day destined to be boring that turned into anything but.

The day began ordinarily enough with a trip to the restaurant and to the beach and then to the supermarket. That’s when things got weird (weird seems to follow me).

I was with my Serbian partner in crime, sitting on a bench underneath a tree when a stringy old man joined us. He was approximately 60, but perhaps he just looked that old because of the missing teeth and stringy hair. He was incredibly skinny and wrinkly, his skin leathery from too much sun for too many years. He wore blue, sporty beach shorts with red on the side and nothing more.

We were speaking about airports when he interrupted.

First, he wanted to know if we were speaking German. My Serbian friend replied in Serbian that no, we were not. He then asked if we were speaking English. She responded in Serbian that in fact we were. He replied that no wonder he didn’t know we were speaking English; he doesn’t speak English!

Then he started asking about our nationalities, if we were Serbian or American.

I realize that none of that is particularly interesting. The interesting bit is coming:

“Is she single?” he asked my friend.

She said I have a boyfriend.

“How old is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he from and how old is he?

She replied, “I don’t know.”

Then he asked her a few questions about where she was from in Serbia.

I couldn’t quite bare to look at him, so I didn’t. I let her do all the talking (not like I could communicate with him anyway).

At the time, I had no idea what he was asking her (the conversation was translated for my benefit later), but decided that she had been talking to him long enough and declared that we were late for meeting her sister.

We walked quickly, but not too quickly. We didn’t want to raise suspicion.

In a few minutes, we were at the hostel. I unlocked the front door and we walked upstairs to the second door.

I turned the handle. It was locked. I tried both of my keys without luck. We decided to see if we could find Pero. We found him and he made a few phone calls. We returned to the hostel.

Pero joined us a few minutes later.

We took turns ringing the bell, yelling out “Mack!” and knocking on the door. The three windows in the hostel were open, so my Serbian friend (NOT my special Serbian George) walked around front and started throwing things through the window trying to hit Mack (the Singapore dude that was in the hostel sleeping). We yelled and yelled and threw everything we had (including several pairs of shoes and a pair of flippers that had been in a hall closet). Finally, Pero scaled the wall, climbed through one of the open windows, and tried to unstick the door from the other side. After trying 3 or 4 keys and almost tearing the handle off the door, he was able to open the door and we were able to get in to survey the destruction.Notice the yellow flippers and water bottles and random shoes...

Funny enough, Mack wasn't even in the hostel... no one was. We thought Mack (the newest arrival from Singapore) had locked us out, but it turns out that the door stuck on its own.

George arrived a few minutes later. Our afternoon wouldn’t have been complete without him! He is my most favorite Special Serbian, you know. He exhausts me. I have to focus so hard on what he is saying, and to be polite I look at him. I am completely exhausted even now writing this post.

George spent hours at the hostel today. He is actually staying at the 2nd hostel, but for some reason spent the whole day sitting on the bed in the common room (yes, there’s a large bed in there, bigger than the room itself!). I was trapped at the dining table between George on the bed on my left and another Serbian man sitting on the couch on my right.Can you tell how I feel from the expression on my face??

I was trapped. I had started making my dinner minutes before George arrived, so during the cooking, eating, and cleaning portions I was obliged to remain in the dining area.

To amuse ourselves, we took photos of George without him knowing to try to capture the popping eyeballs. I must be an excellent conversationalist because as soon as he walked in, he started talking to me and didn’t stop until I finally was able to leave after about three hours or so.

I typed an SOS into my keyboard. “My eyes are glazing over.” No one answered my cry for help. I’m not sure they knew what to do or how to go about rescuing me from his clutches.

George and his sister discuss me often apparently. Did I already write about how George told me he talked about me at dinner with his sister? Apparently, they talked about me again today. They came to the conclusion that I appear more European than American. And his sister sends her regards (which is nice, especially seeing as I still like her and George has become overwhelming). I think he would be a decent guy in small doses, but he doesn’t understand when enough is enough and that sometimes, space is a good thing.

Pero had misplaced his keys (I have since found them), so he asked George for his key. I am sure he was sad that his hard-earned key disappeared before he’d had it in his hot little hand for than 20 minutes.

At about 10PM, I escaped. Several of the hostel guests were leaving to take walks, so I slipped out the door.

I walked around town taking photos in the dark playing with the exposure time. I think the hpotos I took the night I arrived turned out better, but these are good too.
I felt safe to return an hour later. I hate how I have to calculate when I can return. I hate how nervous and jumpy I am here in Kotor. I should be calm and relaxed, but I am so stressed all the time and it’s most definitely because of the workers.

Off to bed. I’m exhausted. You have no idea how tiring it is to avoid someone so… frustrating. And how awful it is to be trapped by said person for multiple hours and be forced to converse.

I've managed to avoid terror today... (George stopped by the hostel earlier - he still has no key so he buzzed up), but who knows how long that will last. My Serbian partners in crime leave tomorrow, and I will have a full day and a half alone....

I am thinking about taking some recreation photos to better depict what happened yesterday and the day before. It's one thing for me to describe what happened... it's something different to actually SEE what happened.

Alas, I better go... I've outgrown my welcome here (at this restaurant) and I must accomplish something today not blog related.

As a side note, there are 677 steps to the second tier of the Eiffel Tower (there are more than twice as many to the top of the fortress here in Kotor).

later!

My Man George

19 June 2009

I was really hoping that today would be uneventful, that it would be one of those days I have nothing to write about, but no. Apparently I am not allowed one day to relax. Am I being punished? I promise I’ll stop taking stalker photos of random strangers just because I can.

*Sigh* That promise lasted about sixty seconds. There was a large older man carrying a horsey beach towel in front of him - I had no choice, I had to capture the moment.
Well, no matter how much I deserve to have a stalker of my very own, I don’t like it.

I woke up early, cooked eggs for breakfast, and organized my trip photos, all 6,000 plus of them. I spent the middle of the day at the “beach,” a ton of trucked in sharp gravel. I chose exactly the wrong time to return to the hostel for an afternoon rest and cool down. The Woman in Red, Pero, George, and two guests were all there and all talking. I had planned on typing a bit, but just as I was beginning, George rang the buzzer to come up. I don’t understand why he still doesn’t have a key unless the reason is that The Woman in Red doesn’t trust him.

Before he even made it up the stairs, I went back into the dorm room and attempted to hide behind my computer screen. If you’ve seen my computer, you know that the screen is tiny. I was hoping he’d take the hint, realize I was busy (I really was), and leave me alone.

No such luck. He entered the dorm room and sat down on the bed across from mine. He desperately wanted to show me his English-Serbian dictionary. I’m not sure why he thought I’d be interested, but apparently I was supposed to be wild about it.

I still can’t tell if George is simply being nice and likes to talk to me, or if he liiikes me. Whenever I am with other guests (female or male), he singles me out and pretty much ignores everyone else.This photo was taken on the street in Kotor. The girls I was with were annoyed when he started talking to me and completely ignored them (not that they wanted a turn, but we were attempting to take a walk).

I had the unfortunate luck to speak to him last night. The eyeballs seemed to be flaring up more than usual. He was talking about peaches and apples (apples especially excited him). He was almost yelling at me with his eyeballs falling out of his head (this is what happens when he speaks excitedly in English). On more than one occasion, I’ve wondered if the eyeball popping has anytng to do with the stress and strain required to think of and pronounce English words.

I was trapped! He and I were the only people in the hostel and I was nervous. I looked longingly at the door and tried desperately to send out an SOS message.

The Woman in Red must have heard my call for help (I thought she was staying in Budva) .

She returned with an Italian and called George away.

I stole my chance to slip out and ran out of the hostel. I walked around a bit trying to find a hiking trail up the mountains (there was a sign with a backpacker on it and an arrow pointing straight). I walked straight up to somebody’s driveway and turned around. I never did find the trail.

Enough time hadn’t yet passed, so I walked to the park across the street from old town. I spent a couple of hours writing and chilling out.

At about 5.30, I finally decided to return to the hostel. I thought that perhaps everyone would be gone.

I found the Woman in Red in the kitchen and all of her consorts (some of whom I had not yet met) were sitting at and around the table eating a sausage stew. I was invited to join them, but I insisted I was too dirty and sweaty and immediately required a shower. I hoped that if my shower was long enough, they would be gone and I would be alone and have some semblance of peace today.

I almost got my wish. Of the consorts, only Pero, George, and A-Man remained when I finished my shower. I walked quickly into the dorm room and was piddling around trying to buy time.

A couple of minutes later, Pero came into the room and asked if I would let anyone in that buzzed. I agreed and the last remaining consorts left.

I was alone. At last.

Of course that didn’t last long.

Pero returned with another worker that I hadn’t met (and wasn’t part of the earlier consort party). And by this time the other hostel guests had started pouring in.

I thought I was safe from George, but of course no one is ever safe from him.

Uner the guise of having forgotten something, he returned. Actually, he had forgotten his Serbian-English dictionary (on my bed!), but that is beside the point. He was not necessary to the operation of the hostel. He spent a few minutes in the common area and then decided he needed to enter the dorm room. I suddenly had the urge to pee, stated as much, and practically ran out of the room while he was fiddling with sheets and towels in the linen closet. I took a few minutes longer than necessary, and opened the bathroom door slowly, just in case I was going to be face-to-face with my **favorite** man.

One of the hostel guests was sitting in my view. I started motioning wildly to her. Of course, she knew my predicament and knew what I was asking without such grand gestures, but I was nervous and a little bit scared.

She had motioned that George was back in the common area, so I decided to risk it. Fortunately, he was leaning out the window looking at the ground (a piece of laundry had fallen out the window). I seized my opportunity and ran back to the dorm room and more or less hid under the sheets. Well, not quite, but I seriously considered it on more than one occasion. What a close call!

He left soon after, I was given the all clear sign, and finally emerged from the dorm room to join the other, unstalked, hostel guests.

to the top of the fortress and back in 2.5 hours OR El hombre de la guitarra le gusta a cantar a mí

18 June 2009

“He’s gaining on us!”

“I see his guitar wobbling”

“Faster, faster! Run faster!”

I was almost scared. We left before he did. Why was he so close to us? How could he be getting closer?

It had started out innocently enough. I had recognized him from the bus returning from Budva so I asked, “Did I see you on the bus yesterday?” That one statement led to the crazy events that followed and trust me when I say I regretted ever uttering those eight words.

As a side note, George is still stalking me. I think it’s karmic payback for taking those stalker photos of random strangers.

Back to the story:

“I can’t run down these steps any faster.”

“Watch out! There’s a step missing.”

“I need to rest a minute.”

“Ok, but only one. I see him coming.”

“He told me he was going to practice some.”

Pause.

“We’ve got to go! NOW!”

“All right, all right.”

A few more slippery steps and we would be there. We later told our feat to a guy from Singapore. He was impressed (or maybe he had thought that we were stupipd, but I‘m going with impressed here). He said that the 1,500 steps to the top of the fortress were slippery and he was shocked that we ran down them (without falling).

He didn’t have a singing guitar man chasing him.

Reflecting on the feat, we were pretty awesome. Some of the steps were out and the sun had set long ago, leaving only shadows and darkness.

And at least I wasn’t alone on that nighttime run. I had company, a friend from the hostel. She understood my plight and my apprehension.

The fortress itself was amazing. Ruins covering the side of the mountain, most of which were climbable. And the views from the fortress were even better.Sometimes I’m too nice. The guy asked if I would take his picture since he had forgotten his camera. I obliged. My faithful hostel buddy was on the other side of St. John’s fort (at the top of the fortress) and couldn’t see my distress.

To thank me, he said he would sing me a Texas song (since I am from Texas). What could I say?

I said, “sure.”And he proceeded to sing me a Texas song. Unfortunately, he didn’t remember the words or the chords and couldn’t reach that upper octave, but he tried. Fortunately, by that time, my hostel friend had realized that I needed assistance and was there to my rescue, pulling me away from the grips of this 40-year-old wannabe guitarist and down 1,500 steps to safety at the bottom.

He must have run as well. He kept coming closer and closer. The faster we ran, the closer he edged. He could not possibly walk that fast. He must have been running, chasing, trying to get closer…. Oh the thought is numbingly scary.

Now, when I roam the streets of Kotor, I have to be very careful to not run into George OR Guitar Man. Fortunately, Guitar Man is going to Tivat tomorrow, so I won’t have to worry about him until the day after.

Budva

17 June 2009

[curtain opens] So today I’m off to Budva to the beach. The Woman in Red offered to take me and I stupidly agreed. If I just get a ride, perfect. I save 3 Euro. If she wants me to tag along on business…

[Aside] Why is it that nothing in Europe that looks like a cinnamon roll actually is a cinnamon roll? I am currently eating what turned out to be a poppy seed roll. I’m not crazy about poppy seed, but I’m not going to starve like yesterday.

[Fade out to Flashback] Not only was I trapped, but I was trapped without food. Pero and the Woman in Red both had pizza. He went out to get it for them. I was hungry enough by that point that I would havwe loved some pizza, but nobody asked. I didn’t have any food that was ready to eat, only uncooked rice, a bag of sugar, salt, and some oil. I thought about excusing myself and chugging some oil, but I decided against that plan of action. So I didn’t eat. I wasn’t able to obtain food until about 11PM and even then it was one sweet bread stuffed with Nutella. Not enough.

[Fade in; later that day] [Aside] I wish I knew how to properly write a play. If I did, I could write in the directions properly instead of just writing what I hope sounds good.
The Woman in Red worked for two years to start a radio station. Unfortunately, she had to sell her half of the company to her partner in order to purchase a flat in Budva. “Her” radio station was playing Lauren Hill and the Fugis.

And Pero is a very imaginative, creative, and sensitive guy who only needs a chance to prove himself. He will be able to pick out the colors of the walls for the new hostel he is the manager of.

And it is so difficult to arrange and organize all things hostel. And fortunately the Woman in Red has a great staff that can accomplish all that she wants done.

And on and on and on.

After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived in old town Budva. She pointed out the best beach (I wouldn’t have found it otherwise) and the best bar and a few other Budva bests. She showed me to her dress shop. Apparently, she makes wedding and special occasion dresses for locals. The dresses were pretty, but nothing particularly special.

Finally, I was free. She let me go. I spent only a few minutes wandering around old town Budva. It was okay, but after spending time in Kotor, I wasn’t impressed. I headed to the “best” beach. The best beach was fine, but nothing compared to the beaches in Mexico. The beach was still pebbly, but the pebbles were significantly smaller. The water and sand and sun were significantly hotter in Budva than in Dubrovnik. At least my toes didn’t fall off from frostbite.

I spent a couple of hours on the beach, but the beach isn’t nearly as much fun alone. I tried listening to music and reading, but the sun was so strong that the glue holding my book together lost it’s stick and my book fell apart. I tried reading individual pages, but with the micro rocks and the sweat and the glare from the sun, it was nearly impossible. I eventually just left. I was too hot and the beach too crowded (this was definitely the most popular beach). I spent over an hour trying to find the bus station. There were no signs (except for at the bus station entrance). The station wasn’t so far from the town either. It shouldn’t have taken me more than an hour. The Woman in Red had told me to go back to the intersection and ask somebody. That was useless. She wasn’t thinking that I do not speak any Serbian. I purposely asked younger people for directions thinking that they would speak English, but I was disappointed. One person told me one direction, so I walked in that direction. Apparently I overshot because the next person I asked (who did not speak English) gestured and told me in Serbian to turn around. I wasn't positive I was going in the right direction, but I walked and walked anyways. Finally, I saw the sign at the station entrance. All my troubles were over (so I thought!)

I asked for a ticket to Kotor and didn't bother to look at it to make sure it was right. Big mistake! My ticket was actually to Tivat (which sounds nothing like Kotor). Fortunately, after about 15 minutes of crazy confusion, I was taken to the right bus and made it back to Kotor in one piece. The bus I boarded looked like a podunk rundown bus from the outside, but was a bumpy wiggly party bus from the inside. The driver was pumping the electronica (which was fine, except when combined with the wobbliness of the ride produces motion sickness). I kind of wanted to bus dance...

[Curtain Drops]

Kotor: A Play in Three Parts

16 June 2009

I must recount the details of this peculiar day before my memory becomes cloudy.

I woke up at about 9 AM and started the day shortly after. My first priority was food; I was starving and hadn't eaten since the night before.

I found a supermarket and found chocolate pudding and Pepsi. Not the best lunch I know, but I wasn't interested in a bread and cheese repeat of the last two months. I sat on a bench outside the grocery store eating my "lunch."

I wandered around old town for a bit and then ran into the Woman in Red (the woman working at the hostel). The town is just as beautiful in daylight if not moreso.
Old town walls and fortifications.
This was taken from outside the town walls. The fortress is in the background on the mountain.

One of many many churches in Kotor.

The fortress. It's a little hard to see... it blends in with the mountain.

Fortifications next to the southern gate. The city is surrounded by water on two sides (like a moat) and on the third side, the city is backed by a mountain on which the fortress stands.

(I have some awesome photos of Kotor already. I intend to put them into a bubbleshare album, so stay tuned. I'll post it in a few days.)

And here the play begins. Now I must introduce you to the cast of characters.

The Woman in Red:

The Woman in Red is Bosnian. She walks quickly and confidently everywhere she goes. Fifteen years ago, she was on holiday in Montenegro when Bosnia was bombed (again). She could not return home and was left with nothing. She spent the next 15 years rebuilding the clothing shop she had lost in Bosnia. Her latest whim was to open a chain of hostels around Montenegro. Since I have been to so many (Hostelworld tells me 60) she is hanging on my every word even though I feel like I don't have anything to say.

Her plan is to open a hostel in the 4 or 5 main tourist cities in Montenegro. Once she does that, she will start following her guests. By that I mean that she intends to keep track of them during their stays in Montenegro. In the winter, she is planning on starting to provide cultural activities opportunities: sheep herding in Kotor, olive oil making in Ulcinj, fishing in Budva. The ideas are good, but seem a bit lofty. But I don't know. I can see her accomplishing these goals. It seems like she has he connections and manpower necessary to get it all done.

A-Man:

The Woman in Red's friend is a "stylist", but you wouldn't know it to look at him (or to smell him). He wears orange capris, an old white polo shirt, navy socks with a white rim, and a very large, very orange fanny pack. This fanny pack seems to act like his purse. I've seen him pull cigarettes from the big pouch.

I can't imagine any self-respecting fashion designer looking like this. I call him A-Man for his white baseball cap with a red A on it (not to his face of course, but I don't know his name, so I have to call him something). Apparently, he's something of a celebrity, having been in films and worked in the fashion industry.

Pero:

I can't help but think of a dog whenever I hear his name (perro=dog in Spanish). And he is something of a lapdog to the Woman in Red. He eagerly does her bidding. He moved from Beograd, Serbia to Kotor, Montenegro when she asked him to. He is a really nice guy, always offering to make me coffee or start my laundry in the machine or give me info about anything I want.

The Owner of the House:

The Woman in Red is renting a house in which she plans to start another hostel. This house is nice, but far from the old town. The owner is a psychologist who works at a hospital in Hamburg, but I have a hard time believing that. This man met us in shorts and nothing else. I suppose that might have been ok if the shorts weren't of the sweatsuit variety and didn't have holes in the wrong places. He also had this major mole on his right arm sprouting a multitude of hairs. I would guess that the mole was 1 1/2 inches long and 1 inch wide. I am talking about a serious mole here. He kindly brought us cold water in dirty mugs. As nice as it was (him bringing the water), I couldn't drink it. Just looking at the dirt at the bottom of my cup made me kind of sick.

George and his sister:

I rather like George and his sister, but they still deserve some explanation, particularly George. (By the way, his name isn't really George, but the Serbian version of George. I'm just not sure how to spell that).

George is really interested in talking to me, which is fine. His English is fairly good, but still requires me to listen carefully. At least once every sentence, his eyes flare up. They get really wide and almost round, his eyelids completely inside his skull. Can a person's eyes actually threaten to pop out of his head?

George's sister is more or less just there. She occasionally joins in the conversations, but mostly just sits there and listens.

They are from Nis, Serbia and as far as I can tell are working at the hostel.

Act I: In which the girl is trapped

I was trapped. I was asked to visit the new hostel and couldn't easily say no. I had nowhere I had to be and no plans, so what could I say? I was more or less indifferent to the idea, so I went along with the Woman in Red and Pero.

Act II: In which the girl feels out of place, awkward, and out of her comfort zone

The afternoon was spent waiting for the locksmith, visiting the Woman in Red's rented properties, and talking to a diverse group of people (from Serbia, Bosnia, and Montenegro) who could all speak to each other and only rarely let me in on the conversation.

But I had to listen very carefully to all conversations, just in case at any point someone starts talking to me. I wasn't listening for English words. The situation was incredibly awkward for me. Everyone except A-Man was making an effort (although I think he just doesn't speak much English).

I just kept thinking all afternoon that this was the most bizarre day ever. The Woman in Red kept telling me that I was only seeing a part of their normal day. Their normal day begins at 7 AM and ends somewhere around 11 PM.

Act III: In which the girl is finally freed

Finally, George and his sister, A-Man, Pero, and the Woman in Red left, leaving me alone with the three other guests. And here I am at a restaurant with free wireless drinking bad coffee (I feel guilty sitting here for an hour if I'm not going to buy anything).

I'll see what happens, but I'm supposed to go with the Woman in Red to Budva tomorrow. I originally accepted because I thought she was offering a ride (saving me 3 euros), but based on recent events, I am more than a little worried that she is going to want me to go with her on more business outings. Honestly, I'm not interested, but I feel like I'm being rude if I tell her that.

To be continued...