Kotor, Montenegro

Wed 23rd July – Sun 27th July

After the past week, I can say that most of this trip has been fairly easy. We have a GPS that sits on our dashboard telling us where to go, most of the camp sites are listed in TomTom, border crossings usually involve a smile and a wave, and pretty much every situation we've encountered has had an English speaker nearby to help. And for some reason, the van has started to work again. We hope... (fingers crossed)

Approaching the border crossing from Croatia to Montenegro, everything changed. A huge queue had formed in front of the Croatian gates and good looking 20-something men wearing green T-shirts were walking from car to car collecting Eco-Tax. The trouble was, they only accepted euros and the closest cash machine was a 45 minute drive back to Dubrovnik. We'd been travelling through Croatia for nearly a month and my wallet had nothing but receipts, a few Croatian notes, and moths, so we were reduced to scrounging. After 10 minutes of rifling through jacket and trouser pockets, we somehow coughed up 10 euros in coins for the Montenegro Eco-Tax.

Next up was actual entry into Montenegro... another 45 minute queue. Note to anyone planning to drive through Montenegro or Serbia – you need Serbian driving insurance which costs 12 euros and of course, they don't accept cards or other currencies and there is no cash machine! The border official made us pull over to the side of the road while I did another serious sofa dive for euro coins. This next attempt was pathetic and resulted in several stacks of 5, 10, 20 cent pieces that added up to 1 euro on our dashboard until I'd finally reached 12 euros by some miracle. Where on earth 22 euros worth of random coins had been hiding in our van is beyond me but it seriously saved the day and pissed off the border officials. (Kristin & Pete-- we do realise you warned us about this days beforehand and it all came rushing back to us just as we joined the queue.)

A fjord in Montenegro

We carried on to Kotor which is supposed to be a more beautiful and less touristy version of Dubrovnik. We first explored the old town which is charming, embraces Eastern European dining prices (€3 for Milanese Spaghetti and €1.50 for a 0.5 litre of beer at the most touristy restaurant in town) and is filled with cute souvenir shops. Our guidebook recommended a walk up to the fortress, which appears to be a short 3-storey hike as you approach it. Do not be deceived! The path switches back and forth, clinging to the mountainside on a rocky path that would never suit flip-flops much less the crazy cork wedges or high-heels that some of the poor female cruise-ship tourists had mistakenly worn. My 4 month absence from gym memberships was shamefully obvious as I crawled up the hill, so maybe it'll be easier for you fit folk, but remember that you've been warned.

Bevan hiking up to the fortress

The view from the top was amazing, worth the pain & suffering and far different from anything we'd seen during the past 4 months. Not to brag but we've seen so many fjords, old towns, harbours and beautiful mountain landscapes, that to see something different should further emphasise the greatness of Kotor.

Kotor's old city

The next step on our Montenegrin tour was finding a camp site – our first unlisted, 'find by the seat of your pants' camp site. We asked at tourist information and they seemed perplexed but told us to drive to the traffic lights, head right and 7km up the road we'd reach the nearest camp site to town. They failed to mention that the road would be too narrow to fit two cars, much less a massive camper van in oncoming traffic and we'd be praying to the Montenegrin gods for the next hour not to let us plunge into the fjord.

Frustrated after 45 minutes of driving a narrow coastal road and listening to honking from other cars, we stopped and I asked for directions – our first real encounter with a culture that really doesn't speak English. Usually the Western European locals claim not to speak English in an effort to educate us on their local language but when you ask a question, they respond in perfect English making your 4 years of Spanish or French classes in High School feel like a complete farce. But here... well I tried to ask for directions and they just stared at me like I was from outer space. Damnit... I hate English translation books.

An English menu in Kotor (note the second dish from the bottom...mmmm)

“Pardon. Gobrite li Engliske? Trazim kamping.”

“Da! 500 metres!” said the beach bartender, pointing in the direction we were already headed. We carried on. Two kilometres later, we stopped again.

“Da! 50 metres!” said the apartment complex owner. We carried on. Two kilometres later Bevan started to pull over again and I spotted the camping sign. Ecstatic we pulled into the very narrow car park to meet an older man who appeared to be in his 80's.

“Gobrite li Engliske?” I asked. His face was filled with confusion. Note to self... must work on my Serbian pronunciation. “ONE NIGHT. ONE NIGHT. CAMPERVAN?” Like all good Americans, I reverted to my native language, turned up the volume and spoke more slowly assuming that this would magically turn this lovely little old Montenegrin man into a fluent English speaker. I am an idiot.

His son turned up and explained through hand gestures and much better English than my Serbian that we could stay, we just had to find a place to park. Easier said than done-- this camp site appeared to be someone's front yard filled with caravans. As Bevan pulled into the yard, the old man started yelling in Serbian, I started yelling in American, the son started yelling in a mix of the two and the next thing you know, there was a loud crack and a huge tree branch disappeared. Bevan slammed on the brakes whilst I jumped into the back of the van and sure enough, the sun roof had been replaced by a massive tree limb. Leaves now littered the van floor I had just swept that morning.

Suddenly we all seemed to speak the same language. “SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. STOP!!”

Getting out of here in the morning should be interesting.

View Kotor Photo Album