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something delicious
Lovcen National Park, Montenegro
12:00 PM
We enjoying a lunch of mountain cheese, smoked ham, "domestic" bread,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and wine that looks like it was bottled in an old Pepsi liter and leaves a wicked purple stain on your tongue. It appears we pulled over in a summer camp. There are several rough hewn picnic tables built up on mossy stone foundations and some outbuildings that could possibly house bunks and screaming children in the later summer months.
This morning, we traversed the 8 ft wide 25-switchback road up to the top of the mountains outside of Kotor on our way to Cetinje- the old real capital and current cultural capital (they claim) of Montenegro. We made a quick pit stop to purchase the domestic fare from an old tan man with while hair in a shack on the side of the road. A second stop was at the mausoleum of some poet perched on the top of the second highest peak in this area.
The view from the switchback road was breathtaking because you could see both the Bay of Kotor and the Bay of Tivat that are separated by a tall hill with a distinct razor-tooth striation.
Once in the mountains, small A-frame red roofed homes were clustered were clustered amongst evidence of old stone foundations of villages past. Several flat green fields had a perimeter of short cobble walls that were likely used as goat pasture or fields at some point, and maybe still are.
It another clear sunny warm day. Mona is a champion interpreter and the rest of us are practicing our numbers.
Rijeka Crnojevica,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Montenegro
5:45 PM
Konoba Mostina
We at our dinner spot situated on the bank of the Crnojevica River,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], sitting on the terrace and Joe and I are splitting a bottle of Banatski Rizling,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], a fine, 6 euro white from Vrsac, Srbja. was another 8 winding lane with switchbacks. Slow, ballad versions of popular songs such as "Black Hole Sun" and "Shout" being sung by a sultry Euro female voice are playing over the speakers. It warm, the sun is setting, and I working on my best buzz of the vacation so far. The opaque, green river snakes surprisingly lazily between the 600m peaks on either size of the valley and shallow fishing boats are tied to the stone river-walk, waiting for their evening run.
8:30 PM
Ivan homemade bar
We tried to pay for the apartment that we scored for 20 euro total and Ivan decided to give us shots of grapa instead. It a clear, strong liquor made from wine making leftovers, I believe. It burns going down. Oh, does it burn. He also put on a cd of traditional music on the player because Mona asked if there were any places to hear "folk" music. The real folk music of Montenegro involves one singing woman accompanied by a single-stringed instrument that sounds like dying cats. Everyone she asks about this music makes a sour face because it hard to hear. Let call in an acquired taste. Anyhow, Joe is on his third or fourth shot of grapa is is wearing a hat that Ivan got during his 20-year tenure in Australia.
The bar has wood plank floors, exposed wooden beams, and two local chain-smoking 20-somethings have wandered in off the street to laugh at us. Ivan is very eager to exercise his English and keeps telling us that his wife is in Belgrade. He drunk, this is evident. joe is not being his usual nervous self, which means he approached drunkenness as well. It smells like bar, cigarettes, and slow-moving river in here. Ivan is teaching Joe how to say "cheers" in Montenegrin and there this crazy sheep herder music playing in the background. The 20-somethings are cheering him along in the background. It awesome.
Earlier today after our slow crawl up the mountain, we arrived to the town of Cetinje where we though we were going to stay the night. This town is shut off from the more westernized coastal towns, as evident by the signs written in the cyrillic alphabet. Apparently,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], this used to be the capital of Montenegro because several old, stately buildings that were, in previous lives, embassies,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], had been turned into museums or were vacant and boarded-up. No one spoke Engleski. It was a gorgeous town,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], but not in the classic sense, and I loved it.
We stopped at tourist information to 1) use the 0.50 euro per pee restrooms and 2) inquire about rooms for rent. A short older man, let call him Crazy Charlie,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], was speaking in a string of heavily accented Montenegrin, cracking jokes (we think, because he laughed a lot), calling Dunes "chocolate", and trying to hook us up with a place to stay. He was on his cell and talked with a half-smoked marb hanging out of his mouth while leading us past the skeptical eye of the townsfolk to a potential apartment. This one was right downtown,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], but turned out to be a bust because there were only three single beds and it smelled funny. He then led us across a brick street and past brightly painted downtown buildings (a change from the stone buildings we had been seeing so far) to a mafia-looking bunch of men enjoying a coffee on the sidewalk. The one with the largest nose and the largest gold chain, whose only other language was German, drove us to a nice home on the edge of town and explained that we then had to drive to the (not so) Grand Hotel where the owner was playing tennis on the somewhat overgrown tennis courts. A tall,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], hot, fit Montenegrin with mediocre english (did I mention he was glistening with sweat?) came out to greet us. Mona and I rode with him to the apartment for a closer look while the boys followed in the car with the mafioso. Joe was quick to point out that it was hardly fair that the girls got to ride with the hot sweaty European in the sports car, but I disagreed. up and along the side of the mountains toward Grab. We were killing some time before dinner and though it would be fun to see what there was to see up that way. The roadway followed the curve of the river,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], approximately 1000 ft higher than the river itself. The road, per usual, seemed barely 10 ft wide, only this time there was no guardrail or stone wall separating us from certain death, rather small head-stone like markers spaced every 10 feet or so. What we didn know at the time,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], was that the main freeway is closed during the afternoon,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], so all of that traffic is routed on this small road, including tour buses. So, needless to say, we were stuck in a line of cars on several different occasions while a tour bus and anything larger than a pinto went head to head in a game of chicken, seeing who would be the first to reverse to a slightly wider section of road so they could pass. Eventually, the car/truck had to give in and all of the cars that followed had to reverse as well. Despite being scared out of my mind, the view was spectacular and well worth the white knuckles. Again, photos will hopefully describe what I cannot.
A View Worth Soiled Pants
A Friendly Game of Mountain Road Chicken
Our meal early this evening was the best yet. We dined on fresh trout, lightly fried and served with a side of herbed potatoes. The pre-meal salad was chopped cucumber, tomato, onion, olives,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and a really soft feta cheese. The salad is called a sopska,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], pronounced shopska where the o is as in the word no.
Well, Joe is still downstairs with his buds and it time for me to turn in for the evening. Today was amazing and I can expect, but do suspect, it will be the same tomorrow.
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