Balkan Odyssey Part 19: Kotor, Europe’s Southernmost Fjord

by Neil Woodburn on

After spending a few days in Dubrovnik, my girlfriend and I grabbed a 10:30 bus from the main station and headed south. Our destination was the city of Kotor, situated on Europe’s southernmost fjord in neighboring Montenegro.

Tickets were just $10 each and the bus was very comfortable. I had taken this same route a few days earlier while traveling from Montenegro to Croatia, so I knew what to expect.

Just a few miles after passing the border, the road drops down to sea level where it meets an inlet of water coming in from the ocean. This is the beginning of the fjord. For the next two hours the road skirts the water’s edge as it circumnavigates this enormous body of water. Large mountains rise up steeply on either side, creating the quintessential fjord-like image despite the contrary dry shrubs and warm weather one doesn’t normally associate with fjords.

Kotor lies at the very furthest end of the fjord. Like Dubrovnik, it too is completely enclosed within thick stone walls and is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The main difference between the two towns is the size. Kotor is far smaller (less then 400 yards from the North Gate to the South Gate) and far more quaint than its neighbor to the north. Its cobblestone streets and stone houses are embraceable and even homey at times. Cars are not allowed within the city walls, nor would they even be able to fit through many of the narrow passageways. The other noticeable difference from Dubrvonik is the tourists; there are very few of them. They certainly visit, but not in the critical mass which often overwhelms Dubrovnik.

Perhaps the reason for so few visitors is that there really aren’t too many tourist attractions in Kotor other than a couple of churches. The ambiance and old-world charm is the true draw and getting lost within the city’s windy alleyways is a real joy. Most of the stone buildings which grace the old town, house private residences just as they have for hundreds of years. The ground floors, however, are lined with a multitude of shops. But not the typical bakeries and cheap Eastern European shops I was expecting. No, Kotor is full of little boutique stores selling women’s shoes, purses, jewelry, hip fashion items, handicrafts, and more. It was a definite disconnect. This is what I expect to see in Italy, not some struggling, Eastern European town most everyone on this planet has never even heard of.

I love outdoor markets and couldn’t resist sneaking a photo of the farmers hawking their goods. Although the market is located just outside the city walls, it remains a stark contrast to the fashionable boutiques which lie within.

Cats are EVERYWHERE in Kotor. How many can you count in this photo?

Kotor is blessed with a handful of decent restaurants. Like everywhere else I traveled in the region, Italian food dominates the culinary scene. We ate regularly at Restoran Pasteria, located just across from the 12th century Cathedral of St. Tryphone, which had good Italian food and a phenomenal cheese plate. City Caffe Pizzeria, however, was our favorite. Just around the corner and almost hidden in a shady, raised courtyard, the restaurant is a peaceful little romantic getaway with tasty food and great wine.

There are quite a few cafes and bars in Kotor as well. Most of the outdoor ones are filled on warm summer days with locals and foreigners alike, sipping cold beers, coffee, and wine. The evenings get a bit wilder. One night we headed to Cesare (above) for drinks and found ourselves in a hip club that (almost) could have been located in Western Europe. A two-man band was jamming away and the drink was on. I quickly learned just how surprisingly progressive this quant town was when my girlfriend got hit on–by another girl.

We were pretty happy with our choice of hotels. Hotel Marija (Tel. 325 062, 325 063) was 65 euros per night ($83) and conveniently located within Old Town. It did get a little loud at night, however, as there was some type of café directly below our window. Don’t be suckered into a hotel outside the city walls where the charm of Old Town fails to extend.

Kotor’s harbor is just outside the main gates. A couple of luxury yachts were moored up here but thankfully no cruise ships. Watching evening settle in over the calm waters of the fjord is a mystical, peaceful experience.

Just behind the city a long section of the protective walls zigzags its way up a very steep mountain. Early one morning when the sun was still behind it, I tackled the 1500 stairs that picked its way up the mountainside. There is a church halfway up, I suppose for those who can’t make it any further, but the real payoff is at the summit where a series of ruins offer a great lunch spot and fantastic views of the fjord and Old Town itself. This is not to be missed.

Nor, for that matter, is the city of Kotor. Go now; It won’t remain off the beaten path for very much longer.

Yesterday’s Post: Dubrovnik, Pearl of the Adriatic
Tomorrow’s Post: Mostar, Bosnia

GADLING’S TAKE FIVE: Week of July 30

by Adrienne Wilson on

What a week! Not that all weeks aren’t a little something special here at Gadling, but you know. Maybe you don’t know? Maybe you missed all of our goodies this week? Maybe you missed only a few? Tsk-tsk. Well here’s a few to review:

5. Builda Yurt:
Of all things seen on Gadling – why would I point to this Builda Yurt blurb? Because I agree with Erik. Because Yurts are cool. Besides it’s a fun plug on the Yurt craze and if you’ve been paying attention you’d know that the holidays are just around the corner. Is a Yurt on your wish list? Should be.

4. Balkan Odyssey Part 16: Ulcinj, Montenegro:
Gotta love how Neil keeps every detail coming from his last adventure to the Balkans. He started with Albania and has worked his way into Montenegro with this post. More specifically, he describes the waiting-to-be-discovered beach resort that is Ulcinj. If you have to ask why – then you need to check out this excellent piece. The pictures are phenomenal.

3. Top Haunted Hikes:
Reading about some of our National Park’s top haunted trails really spooked me out. I wouldn’t want to imagine what walking the path of one on a dark starry night (lost, without a map, and a coyote’s howl) in the distance would be like. Spine-tingling indeed. Yosemite, Big Bend and Grand Canyon are all there. See what other parks made the haunted list.

2. Transparent Kayak:
See-through canoe-kayak, yeah – insanely awesome. Erik points out a fine piece equipment in the gear world and though it ain’t too cheap makes you want to start saving for one. Seats two people and it is really transparent. Check it out.

1. Havasupai:
With this one you almost wish Neil didn’t go running his trap about how grand the Havasupai Canyon located about 40 miles from the Grand Canyon is, but at the same time you’ve somehow placed it high on your list of destinations to go. If it sounds too hot for you to trek to these days, then you obviously weren’t put onto the cool blue Havasu Creek. Miss this piece again and that’s just your loss pal.

Balkan Odyssey Part 17: The Long Road to Dubrovnik

by Neil Woodburn on

In today’s modern age, getting from Point A to Point B is often very easy. Of course, there are exceptions; such as when Point A is Ulcinj, Montenegro and Point B is the Dubrovnik airport where your girlfriend is flying into.

I sort of got the hint before embarking on my solo journey of Albania that if I wasn’t at the Dubrovnik airport to meet my girlfriend when she flew in, the rest of my trip would be solo as well.

So, here was the challenge: I had to travel the entire length of Montenegro, cross the border into Croatia, and be standing at the arrival gate by 3 p.m.

There is a very convenient bus that travels this entire route but it left Ulcinj at 12:45 p.m. and arrived at Dubrovnik too late to get me to the airport on time. The lady at the ticket counter suggested I take the 7 a.m. bus that traveled a town called Igalo near the border. I figured I could easily find transport onwards from there.

So, I woke at 5:30 a.m., caught a taxi to the bus station and jumped in a minivan. The coastal journey north towards Croatia is a very nice drive with plenty of scenic ocean vistas and wonderful homes and chateaus tucked in the hillsides. My girlfriend and I were planning on coming back to Montenegro after spending a few days in Dubrovnik, so the journey gave me a chance to scout out possible locations to visit.

Igalo, my minivan’s final stop, had appeared to be a small town right on the border when I consulted my map at the Ulcinj bus station. This was not true. The minivan dropped me off in front of a beachside hotel in Igalo which turned out to be about ten kilometers from the border. To make matters worse, there was no transport whatsoever to continue my journey.

A helpful woman at the hotel’s reception desk sort of laughed when I explained my predicament and told me I had to go back to the main bus station at Herceg Novi, a town I had passed through on the minivan about ten minutes earlier. To get there, I grabbed a local bus just outside the hotel and rode it nervously as it headed in the wrong direction for a long time before circling back and eventually dropping me off at the bus station.

Despite quite a bit of activity at the station, there was only one bus scheduled to head across the border to Dubrovnik. It left at 3 p.m. I was a bit angry to discover that it was the same 12:45 bus from Ulcinj which I didn’t take because it would not get me to the airport on time.

My only option at this point was a taxi. Unfortunately, the driver wanted 50 euros for the journey. So, I came up with a far cheaper solution. I’d take the taxi to the border for 10 euros, walk across, and grab a taxi or bus on the Croatian side. Easy enough. I’ve done it before and it has always worked out.

When the taxi dropped me off, however, the border post was almost completely empty. There were no busses waiting to cross or even taxis. I walked up to a window on the side of the building to get my passport stamped but the official waved me over to the little outdoor booth where two cars were waiting in line. I had to go and stupidly stand behind the last car, breathing in its nasty Eastern European exhaust, and wait my turn.

I thought it strange they didn’t have a window for people walking across the border. But, I quickly discovered why.

Once over the border, I entered No Man’s Land, that strip of earth that lies between two borders. Normally this area is less than 100 yards. But, as I started walking, I realized I couldn’t see the Croatian border post. The frontier was in the mountains and the road was curvy but every time I came around a bend expecting to see the border, all I saw was more of No Man’s Land stretching out before me. This was bad. I would have hitchhiked but not only were there no cars passing by, but I really doubted anyone would pick up a stranger in No Man’s Land. That’s like offering to carry someone’s bag through customs.

About a kilometer into my journey, all hot and sweaty, I stopped for a break and was taking a pee in No Man’s Land when I heard a car coming around the corner. I just had time to zip up before it blew past me, stopped for a moment, then slowly backed up. There was a man and women in the front seat but the back seat was empty. Without saying a word, I pulled open the door, threw in my bag and jumped in after it.

“Hi,” I said. The couple was all smiles and said hello back. Juraj and his wife were from Slovakia and had been vacationing at a friend’s house in Montenegro. They spoke a little English and I spoke a little Czech and suddenly my Hellish journey into No Man’s Land turned into a very pleasant one.

It was another 4-5 kilometers before we hit the Croatian border post. I would have been walking a long time if they hadn’t picked me up. I asked where they were heading in Croatia and they told me they were dropping off their rental car and flying out of Dubrovnik Airport. Perfect! I asked if could catch a ride the rest of the way and they had no problems with that.

Juraj did, however, want to visit Dubrovnik first before going to the airport. What I didn’t realize was that the airport is on the road between Montenegro and Dubrovnik. Dubrovnik is actually another 20 kilometers beyond the airport. I’ll bet that 12:45 bus from Ulcinj would have gotten me to the airport only a little bit late and I probably could have taken it after all. Damn!

So we spent a quick hour in Dubrovnik (that’s Juraj above on the main street in Old Town) where I learned that, in addition to picking up strangers in No Man’s Land, Juraj and his wife run a small hotel in Kremnica, Slovakia called Stefanshof. Be sure to visit it if you’re in the area. We then headed back to the airport just in time to catch their flight and to meet my girlfriend at the gate.

Mission Accomplished!

Yesterday’s Post: Ulcinj, Montenegro
Tomorrow’s Post: Dubrovnik

Balkan Odyssey Part 16: Ulcinj, Montenegro

by Neil Woodburn on

Although technically still part of Serbia until the end of the year, quaint little Montenegro has a personality all its own. That would explain why the people of this region voted just a few months ago to secede from Serbia & Montenegro to become their own country.

Sandwiched between Croatia and Albania, Montenegro is easy to get to from popular Dubrovnik (more on that in a later post). I was coming from the south, however, and did so by paying 20 euros for an hour taxi ride from Shkodra, Albania to the coastal town of Ulcinj (cheaper minivans run the same route a couple of times a day).

My first impression of Ulcinj was rather disappointing. The taxi driver refused to take me into Old Town and dropped me off on Bulevar Maršala Tita, a busy thoroughfare lined with ugly little shops not so far from the bus station.

I grabbed my luggage, headed up the street and turned left at Ulitsa Skenderbeu. This street headed downhill to the bay and Old Town. It was less than half a mile, but the more I walked the nicer the street became. Restaurants began popping up, cafes were filled with people sipping drinks, travel agencies beckoned with exciting excursions, locals stopped me to ask if I needed accommodations, and tourist shops were hawking all manner of kitsch made from seas shells and rocks. After seeing so few tourists in Albania, it was strange to walk down a street whose storefronts were all dedicated to serving them.

My destination was a hotel in Old Town poised on a hilltop overlooking a perfect half-moon bay. That’s it, the furthest building on the far left of the photograph. Dvori Balšica (fax 421 457 leart@cg.yu) cost an incredible 55 euros for a bedroom, spacious living room, kitchenette, bathroom and phenomenal ocean views.

The above shot was taken just outside my hotel window. There are much cheaper places up here as well, for as little as 10 euros. It seems everyone has a small hotel or B&B willing to put you up.

Old Town is small and ripe with character. Although there are a fair number of hotels and restaurants, they are all incorporated into the ancient stone architecture. In fact, most of Old Town is private residences, just as it has been for centuries. There are no tacky tourist shops or busloads of Germans blindly following their tour guides. Old Town is quaint and left alone.

Wandering through the narrow cobblestone alleys you really gives you an authentic feeling for the place; it’s not some tourist manufactured claptrap with locals dressed in period costumes handing out fliers or selling ice cream.

Most of the restaurants in Old Town have amazing patios where you can chomp down sea food and soak up the killer ocean views. Restaurant Klaja, Antigona, and Teuta were three of my favorites. The food was good, perhaps a little pricy for a place like Montenegro, but very nice nonetheless. Even if it was bad, however, I would have kept coming back for the view. Both restaurants have phenomenal patios overlooking the ocean. Indeed, this was my way of choosing a restaurant in Old Town; I just looked for those with a great view and sat down. I was never disappointed.

What struck me odd about Old Town and its great hotels and restaurants was that they were all nearly deserted. At the most, there might have been one or two tables occupied at every restaurant I visited. Often times I sat by myself. Montenegro is still very far off the radar for foreign tourists.

Ulcinj, however, remains very popular for local tourists who can’t afford the high prices in Old Town and stay down by the water instead. In fact, the town actually gets a little crowded down by Obala Borisa Kidrica, a typical seaside promenade running along the beach at Mala Playa. The beach itself is quite nice, although I preferred swimming off the concrete dock below Old Town. Old town is just to the left of this photograph.

At night, Obala Borisa Kidrica explodes with young vacationers who cruise up and down the promenade dressed up and shooting sly flirtatious looks at each other. There are plenty of non-descript bars and cafes as well, but walking up and down the promenade seems to be more heavily favored. This was the same ritual I saw throughout Albania. It was not a big surprise. Ulcinj is 85% Albanian. This means the city is mostly Muslim as well. The mosques which had haunted my waking hours in Albania with their morning calls to prayer had followed me across the border–fortunately the sound blasting from the minarets wasn’t able to reach Old Town.

Ulcinj is one of those waiting-to-be-discovered beach resorts where good deals are to be had and good times are to be enjoyed. It has a wonderful, beach town vibe, but one day when it becomes popular (and it will), the whole place is going to change. I’m sure happy I was able to enjoy it before the jetsetter crowd arrives.

Yesterday’s Post: Albania Wrap-Up
Tomorrow’s Post: The Long Road to Dubrovnik

Balkan Odyssey Part 12: Kosovo!!!

by Neil Woodburn on

After spending a few days in the mountains of northern Albania, it came time to leave the village of Valbona.

The best way to do so is to hike up the valley and over a mountain pass to the village of Thethi. This 7-hour hike is supposed to be amazing and should be done with a guide, as it is not clearly marked. Such trips can be arranged through Alfred at the bar/cabin in Valbona, or with the fine folks at Outdoor Albania in advance.

Unfortunately for myself, it started raining and I wasn’t able to even attempt the trek. I didn’t want to backtrack through Lake Komani again, no matter how beautiful it was, so I had to improvise. This is where it pays to have a guidebook that covers a larger area than where you initially planned to travel. I learned from my Lonely Planet Western Balkans that the closest place of interest was easy to get to by car was just across the border in Kosovo.

Kosovo?!?!

The name alone implies the same war-heavy weight and connotations of horror that places like Vietnam still do. But, according to the guidebook and a brief discussion with some Valbona locals, Kosovo is safe these days–providing one doesn’t stray too far from marked paths where active land mines still lay.

So, I was up early in Valbona to catch the 6 a.m. minivan back to Bajram Curri. The otherwise pleasant drive was punctuated by a baby lamb, tied up and tossed in the back of the van that bleated in horror throughout the trip. This was a one-way journey for Little Bo Bleat; she was on her way to market in Bajram Curri.

In Bajram Curri I discovered that the next minivan to Gjakova, Kosovo wasn’t leaving for about five hours so I hired a cab for the two-hour journey ($30) and headed east. Kosovo is technically in Serbia but the border is manned by UN troops. This was my first ever UN border crossing and other than barbed wire and those white UN vehicles you always see in photographs of really bad places, it was otherwise quite peaceful.

The best news for my travel weary bones, however, was that the highway crossing through the border had recently been paved and was the smoothest ride I had in all of Albania. Not too far beyond the border, I was dropped off at the Gjakova bus station where I caught a bus for two euros for the hour long trip to my final destination: Prizren.

Prizren turned out to be a pleasant surprise and one of the highlights of my trip. It’s a wonderfully quaint town with cobblestone streets, ancient two-story homes, pedestrian walkways, mosques, and a sea of red-tiled homes.

Shadrvan Plaza in the center of town is a lively square packed with restaurants and cafes. This is the place to be. I was fortunate enough to arrive when the town was celebrating the 128 Anniversary of the Prizren League (“a nationalist movemement which sought autonomy from the Turks) so the square was more lively than normal. This is definitely a café town; residents spend hours enjoying coffee or cold beers in the outdoor cafes which surround Shadrvan Plaza.

About 90% of Prizren residents are ethnic Albanians and the Albanian flag can be seen everywhere–far more often than I saw it in Albania itself. The people, however, are of a very different mentality. Of course, it could have been the 128th anniversary celebrations, but in the evenings, a number of discos and pubs exploded with drinking and dancing. This was a far different breed of Albanians than their more conservative cousins I came across in Tirana. Indeed when I later told a taxi driver in Albania that I had visited Kosovo his eyes lit up. I thought he was going ask me why I had gone to such a dangerous place, but instead he merely wanted to know if I had gotten lucky.

As part of the celebrations, a number of ethnic dance troupes came out to do their thing. It was a wild foot-stomping good time.

The only real tourist attraction is the Fortress of Prizren located on the top of a mountain overlooking the city. Not much remains, but the steep walk to get there is rewarded with wonderful views.

Perhaps the greatest highlight for me came rather unexpectedly. Upon arriving I popped into the first restaurant I could find, Besimi/Beska in Shadrvan Plaza and ordered some chicken. I expected the same, tough chicken I had throughout Albania, but boy was I wrong. Prizren still retains a heavy Turkish influence from its days in the Ottoman Empire and thankfully, so does the food. The chicken was amazingly succulent and seasoned with phenomenal spices. It was the best meal I had my whole trip. I kept returning for most of my other meals as well. Everything was excellent, the beefsteaks, Greek salad, baklava, bread and more.

The low point of Prizren, however, was accommodations. The Lonely Planet failed to mention even a single suggestion and now I know why. Their brief description of the town, however, referred to Hotel Theranda as a reference point. So that is where I checked in. This was a big mistake and I ended up doing something I’ve NEVER done before: I left.

I shouldn’t have expected very much from a room that costs only 15 euros. Normally any roof over my head is good enough for me, but this was too much. The hallways were like something from The Shining; they looked to be slowly melting in on themselves. The room was worse. The first thing I noticed was the dozen or so flies swirling about in a circle above the bed as though something had recently died there. These weren’t airy little gnats, either, but bug ugly horseflies.

Shortly after seeing the flies, the smell hit me. Bad smells are never your friend. I can always close my eyes to the ugliest of hotel rooms, but there is no way to stop the stink.

I left my bags in the room and started looking for another hotel. There was one directly across the street, but when I checked out the rooms they were only marginally better for 30 euros. It wasn’t until a few hours later, while talking to some local who had stopped to ask where I was from, that I learned about a pension in town. Bujtine Pension (rr M. Ugarevic – E Bujtinave 14, Tel. 381/0/29 631-628; 45-342) is located near Shadrvan Plaza. It was clean, had a nice bathroom with hot water, and was pretty much everything you could want for a place for the night. And, it was only 20 euros.

It was strange to think of ethnic cleansing while sitting in a café watching the crowds of people wandering past. And yet, every one of these people in this photograph was marked for extermination by the Serbs who wanted to wipe the ethnic Albanians from Kosovo. This wasn’t some World War II horror, but one that happened just a few years ago in 1998/99. It was difficult to imagine, everyone was in such a happy mood with the city celebrations going on, but the horrors are still very fresh.

Here’s the conflict in a nutshell. Muslim dominated Kosovo had been granted autonomy while part of Yugoslavia. This autonomy, however, was revoked in 1990 during a period of strikes against Serbian domination. To make matters worse, the Serbs banned the Albanian language in much of the mass media–the first sign of an empire swallowing up an indigenous culture. The Kosovo Liberation Army formed in 1996 and fought a guerilla style war with the Serbs. In early 1999 Slobodan Miloševic amped up the Serbian campaign and drove 850,000 Albanians into exile across the borders into Albania and Macedonia. NATO responded with a bombing campaign which eventually led to Serbian forces withdrawing from Kosovo. The exiled Albanian returned en masse and extracted what revenge they could from the few remaining Serbs. This included torching Serb homes on the mountainside (above photo) and destroying orthodox churches.

Christ the Savior Church, half way up the mountain towering over Prizren, was one of the churches damaged, but not completely destroyed. Today, it is manned 24/7 by an International Peacekeeping Force. You can see their bunker in the photo above.

Of course, history is always more complicated than the simple nutshell explanation I’ve provided above, so I apologize for such a brief summary. Those of you interested in learning more about the Kosovo conflict can click here.

Yesterday’s Post: Valbona
Tomorrow’s Post: Shkodra, Albania