Rainy Day Revelations

More than once during this jaunt I have found myself in a coffee shop, sipping hot goodness, as the rain pours down outside. These are some of the thoughts that have come to me during these times. As I prepare to leave Europe to chase my dreams to Australia, I thought that I would share them.

1) I really, truly, beyond a doubt love my life. Each day brings about an ecstasy I have never known before. My mind and soul are being overloaded with images of unimaginable beauty combined with the chance to meet like-minded and wonderful individuals. I am struck with such intense emotions on a daily basis that I no longer know the difference between anxiety, hope, and fear. Each new experience brings more to my character and helps me grow into the person I have always wanted to be. Life, what a wild ride it can be.

2) I miss my family and friends more than I have been able to admit to myself. This is a particularly hard one for me because the path I have chosen requires sacrifices of all sorts, separation from loved ones being the biggest. For all of the missed birthdays, weddings, holidays, and cups of tea I am missing, I am sorry.  If I could put you all in my pocket as I chase my dreams around the world I wouldn’t hesitate. I love you humans and miss you every single day.

3) It is okay to be vulnerable. And sad. And lonely. With the highest highs come some of the lowest lows. I have had to learn how to balance my emotions as this roller coaster of feelings takes ahold of my life. While social networking usually shows the best moments of our lives, we don’t generally let people see the dark. We create a world of false perfection by only showing our proudest moments. There have been tears, and fights, and days spent hiding from the world, and I have learned that is okay. I am human, after all.

4) Traveling changes me a little more each time. It happened during my first trip around Europe, and again in Honduras, South Korea and now I am changing again. Each adventure around the world brings more insight than I bargained for. When you are alone on a bus, train, plane, ferry, whatever it may be, you are left with nothing but yourself for company. In these moments I have been able to take a look at my character and realize the things that need to change. And the things that don’t. I am working on being proud of who I am and these trips are notoriously good for self reflection and growth.

5) Everything is going to be more than okay in the end. Somehow through all of the chaos of life, things just seem to come together as if woven into a tapestry. I have made some life altering mistakes, but coming to Europe was not one of them. In fact, it might be the best thing that could have happened to me. Following my instinct and not giving into the pressures of life has put me on a course that I finally feel is right for me and me alone. I have never been more certain of my love for life’s uncertainties before. Do something you love and do it well.  

I have also discovered my love for goulash, mulled wine, random wanderings through cobblestone streets, and the chance to be a new person with each fresh start. Farewell Europe, thanks for all of the love, laughter, and evolvement. Until next time.

The Art of Running

I am runner.

I run from places, situations, and ideas. I run from family and friends and loved ones. I run because I feel trapped.

I run to countries I’ve only dreamed of, adventures never imagined, and challenges that change me. I run to intriguing humans who share my view of the world. I run because I want to feel alive.

For some people running is the most cowardly thing you can do. Giving up a life that I created for myself for something new is selfish and irresponsible. For others, running is seen as courageous. Throwing caution to the wind in exchange for the unknown is something to be proud of, to be admired.

I don’t know what the right answer is. All I know is that I am a runner and I wouldn't change it for the world.

In the past two weeks I have traveled to Budapest for one night out with my soul mate. We sang Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” and danced the night away with boys in velvet crop tops. From there I journeyed on to Berlin to celebrate another friend’s birthday. Here we stood in line for the infamous clubs and meandered around German Christmas markets. From there I met yet another nomad in Vienna. The days were spent wandering camera stores and sipping copious amounts of mulled wine. The last stop in my whirlwind Europe trip was Budapest (again). There are some cities that just call to your soul and Budapest sings a song like no other for me. Days on ice skating rinks and in old movie theaters followed by nights in ruins bars made me mourn my goodbye.

Now I have made my way home, well home to Istanbul. My life has come to a standstill for the week and it is bringing the weight of the past four months down on me. When I think back to the person I was before I left I have a hard time remembering her. Travel has a knack for exposing weaknesses and revealing strengths. Whether for good or for bad, one thing is for certain, this trip has changed me.

From here I will make my way to Melbourne, Australia to try out life on the other side of the world. After that the possibilities are endless.

I am running.

I am running from standards and expectations. From a life that slowly drains the soul.

I am running to my dreams, to a life of adventure. I am running because there is so much of this world left to see and so little time to see it.

Road Tripping: Part Three

Day 11: A night of thunderous rain transformed into a morning of damp socks and the idea to go caving at Skocjan. The tour started with a jaunt through a rain sodden forest. Our thankfully small group silently marched along the leaf littered path under umbrellas held high. We entered the caves through a strangely artificial tunnel, unsure of what to expect. It was astounding. Giant domed ceilings arched overhead as rock formations 250,000 years old glistened wetly, still growing with each mineral rich drop of water from above. From the silent cavern we ebbed our way deeper into the heart of the Earth, each step bringing the roar of water ahead. Thanks to the heavy rainfall experienced that week the caves had flooded only days before and were expected to flood again. This most comforting thought stuck with me as I stood on a bridge watching the river violently crash its way through the system bearing flotsam from the flood. An impressive team was filming a documentary in the caves detailing how they were first explored on precarious steps hewn into the rock walls themselves. Keep an eye out for the film, you will not be disappointed. We emerged once again into the daylight (rainlight) and headed towards Vipava with the thought of wine tasting bringing a smile to my face. Never underestimate the power of a smile. It may be a seemingly insignificant twitch of the face yet it carries the weight of contentment. Smile more, trust me on this. I suppose it was hard not to feel pleased as we drove through quaint Slovenian villages on our way to a private wine tasting. A few samples (and bottles) later we found a quiet stretch of road and called it a night.

Day 12: LJUBLJANA. If you are ever lucky enough to find yourself on this side of the world do yourself a favor and go to Ljubljana. Maybe it was the fact that it was our first day without rain after a very wet spell, or maybe it was the beautifully hospitable people we were lucky enough to spend the day with, but the town left an everlasting imprint on my heart. We bounced from a cafe to a castle to a cafe to a market to the best Mexican food I have had in Europe before topping it all off with a sinfully delicious crepe. We were fortunate enough to spend the day with one of Joel’s coworkers and her friends, a group of people who turned out to be welcoming, loving, giving, and the best company a person could ask for. They played the role of tour guide happily as they lead us through the cobble stone streets of Ljubljana. There they pointed out the three bridges, a gallery in the park, and a desperately romantic statue of a poet reaching longingly towards the window where his love resided, the muse knowingly watching over them both. We also had our second night under a roof complete with a scalding hot shower and the chance to wash our clothes. The hostel was a reverted jail block with eccentric works of art dotting the outside courtyard making it look like the home of the lost boys. I’ve never been happier to sleep in a room full of strangers. It is funny how living in a car has the ability to make you appreciate the small things in life, like a bed.

Day 13: After a night under a roof and with a bag full of freshly laundered clothes we turned our sights towards Lake Bled. The mountain cradled, petite lake with its sole island housing a church would be more fitting in a fairy tale than real life. Cottages and shops dotted the shoreline, all eerily empty thanks to the chilly time of the year. The lake itself was shrouded in a thin layer of mist that ebbed and flowed altering my perception with each new breath of wind. We wandered along the shoreline and up to the castle resting on a hill for another shockingly perfect view of the Slovenian countryside. I had an inspiring panoramic of the lake blending into farmland while being serenaded with the clanking bell of the lead cow meandering below. A quick descent back down to the lake brought a swarm of ducks squawking and pulling either other’s tail feathers in their desperate dive for breadcrumbs. The whole debacle was being judged by their more graceful cousins, the swans who seemed to ruffle up their feathers and turn their backs on the whole unruly business. Thanks to the incredible souls we met in Ljubljana we had a few extra euro in our pockets and instructions to try the traditional dessert of the region. The perfectly square piece of sugary delight was comprised of custard, puff pastry and not one ounce of regret. We were lucky to find an exceptional sleeping spot that night at the foot of a trail head, just past a small neighborhood of red thatched cottages that had been abandoned for the winter. That night the rain gave us a break from its usual downpour and settled for a slight drizzle so we threw a tarp down on the mud to feast on cheese with jam, cured meat, and our homemade pickled vegetables all washed down with another bottle from Karis’s Italian wine stash. It was the end of another soul stirring day.

Day 14: I awoke throughout the night to the sound of rain thrashing the car and thought that our hopes of hiking were dashed. Fortunately we awoke to the typical European drizzle that is bearable with the right attitude. A quick breakfast and coffee stop proceeded our trek into the the Julian Alps. Mostnice Gorge is, indeed, most nice. Thanks to the heavy rainfall of the past week the water was ripping through the canyon, churning its usual glacially green waters white. Blood red leaves were decaying in the same positions they had fallen in only weeks before filling the air with the sickly sweet smell of late Autumn. Vibrant green moss still coated the river rocks which only served to compliment the color-rich landscape. Waterfalls had been the theme of the road trip so far, so, of course, we ended up at the base of yet another cascading fall letting the freezing mist wash over our faces. Bohinj was the next stop of the day. The lake was cloaked in fog, obscuring the dramatic Alp background surrounding the lake. A sign recommended 2.5 hours to walk around the lake but after a quick check of the time (3:30) and a wary glace at the gathering storm clouds ahead we decided that we could beat the time by an hour at least. Needless to say, 3 hours later when we completed the loop it was pitch black outside and we were soaked to the bone. It was absolutely worth it. To offset the wet toes and kilometers hiked that day we casually borrowed some wood from the village near our campsite and had our first and last campfire of the trip. There are few things more delicious in this world than foil packet dinners on the fire. We feasted on steamed veggies and steak. The night was wonderful in a way that only happens with red wine, a full belly, and a campfire TV. The mysterious voices we heard in the empty darkness couldn't even dampen the experience.

Day 15: I opened my eyes to the dull ache of my two old lady hips and was grateful that I had made it so long sleeping in the car before they took a day from me. Joel and Karis decided to tackle an elevation rich hike and I opted to spend the day in a glass sunroom watching the world outside being dominated by a rain storm while sipping endless cups of tea with milk (miss you, momma). I took to writing and reflecting and writing some more as memories of the previous two weeks washed over me. During this brief spell of caffeine induced heavy thinking I came to many conclusions but some seemed to stand out more than others. Considering the appalling length of this blog I will save them for next time. With the return of my adventure partners we headed back into Bled for Chinese food, because why not eat crispy duck in Slovenia? It was delicious. We parked our car at the entrance to Vingtar Gorge and slept the night away.

Day 16: The final day. I rolled out of my sleeping bag and onto the trail through Vingtar Gorge. Once again I was astounded by the play of colors with the leaves and rushing water. Slovenia is an incredibly beautiful country. A quick blast to the face from a waterfall and we headed back to the cars. We said our goodbyes to Karis and turned the car to home, well to Budapest. In order to maintain sanity during the 9 hour ride we listened to Serial, a most addicting “who done it” podcast that I recommend to everyone looking to be entertained and frustrated with the lack of answers. I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHO DID IT. We popped into Austria and were welcomed by two separate half hour long police escorts. We manically looped roundabouts time and time again while laughing with fake Austrian accents that began as soon as we crossed the border and ended just as abruptly when we returned to Hungary. Our final night ended peacefully in some farm land. For me there were tears and revelations long over due. We spooned the last of our Nutella into our mouths while listening to the wisdom of the song below. Listen. Hear. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Road Tripping: Part Two

A continuation of my journey through The Balkans by car.

Day 6: For the first time in days I awoke without back pain thanks to sleeping in a bed again. I took a luke warm shower that under different circumstances would have been quite sad. With only 6 days into the trip I had a new found appreciation for hot water, real meals, easy access to toilets, and soft beds. Feeling thoroughly refreshed we headed into the rain to experience old town Kotor, a walled citadel cowering under a hilltop ruined fortress. After peeking into some old churches and wandering narrow alleys we started the climb to the real draw, the fortress. Many uneven stone steps later I arrived at the top, sweating happily as I gazed out below me. I was struck, once again, with such a powerful feeling of wonderment and gratitude that I may or may not have leaked a tear or two as I stood on top of the world. Once I pulled myself together my love of all things fantasy had me giggling like a school girl as I explored the ruined castle. Arrow slits, arch ways, and ancient rooms provoked thoughts of knights, ladies, and times long gone. I stood on battlements and tried to imagine life as it was during the peak of the fortress (probably pretty bloody and with poor hygiene but still cool). Reluctantly I climbed back down into the real world for a drive around half of the gulf and a climb back up those sharp switchbacks we had come down the night before. We visited Lovcen National Park and the mausoleum for Petar Petrovic Njegos. 400 stone steps on top of a mountain lead to a marble temple with an impressive statue of him under a gold plated ceiling. More impressive than the building was the panoramic view it provided us. We were rewarded with a sneaky glimpse at the coast and mountains alive with color. Fall just seemed to become more impressive as the weeks passed. Another pull out into a pitch-black lookout point and a night in the car followed.

Kotor

Fortress

View of Kotor from fortress. Check out the sweet wall on the right. 

Fortress. Duh. 

Inside old town, Kotor.  

Day 7: Another glorious view started our day off right. This time we awoke to look over my new favorite place in the world; The Gulf of Kotor. For the third time we risked the sharp turns and headed back into the bay, this time to hike. After a trying two months full of emotional ups and downs combined with not nearly enough exercise I decided not to let anything hold me back any longer, and I stormed up the mountain. I reached the peak perfectly saturated with sweat with a manic grin on my face. My much missed endorphins had finally kicked back in and I felt better than I had in weeks. Smiling and singing my way back down the mountain was just as enjoyable as the strenuous climb up. I glanced across the water to Kotor and my beloved fortress watching over the town. The high of the climb stayed with me for the remainder of the day. We sauntered around Perast, yet another ancient town located on the magical bay. From there we hit the road for one of my most sought after destinations: Dubrovnik. With my first glimpse of the town I laughed with delight. Life has a funny way of working out. Just one month ago I never imagined myself driving through the Balkans and I certainly didn’t think I would be able to finally see Dubrovnik yet there I was. We entered the old city, wandered through the labyrinth, and came out at a bar on the opposite end of the city, right on the water, just as the sun started to set. Further aimless strolling through the city followed, this time under golden light cast from lamps mounted throughout the alleys. A proper dinner followed this perfect day complete with mushroom soup, grilled vegetables, kebabs, and, of course, a dark beer. I went to bed happy as can be.

View when I woke up. 

View climbing the mountain. That's Kotor down there. 

Perast. 

Dubrovnik.

Dubrovnik.

Day 8: An impressive view of the sea greeted us first thing in the morning as the sun began to rise over the hills. I watched the bay gradually lighten from the pale grey and purple of early morning to a brilliant golden hue that seems fit only for paintings. We started our trek back north. Bosnia was granted a tiny sliver of coastline (it’s a sound, they don’t even get the sea) and we cruised through it in all of ten minutes. In less than two hours we went from Croatia to Bosnia to Croatia before landing in war torn Bosnia once again. The bullet holes almost seemed natural this time through the country. Kravice falls was a quick pit stop full of quick photos and faces full of mist. From there we traveled to Blagaj, an old dervish house nestled next to the river against a stark rock face. Groups of tourists walked past vendors selling pomegranates and protection against the evil eye; I felt like I was home in Turkey.  Finally it  was time for Mostar. The majority of our time was spent on, under, and around the iconic bridge in the city that was destroyed during the war but was thankfully rebuilt in 2006. It is another sight that I have only dreamed about, so to finally see it was spectacular. A bone chilling message of remember ‘93 served as a reminder to tourists of the horrors witness in the country just a short time ago. We grabbed a coffee and free wifi (only slightly ashamed of the internet addition) before jumping back in the car for a six hour drive further north to Una National Park.

Kravice Waterfall

Blagaj

Mostar by day.

Mostar by night.

Day 9: After waking up in stunning forests, on high ridges, and next to the coast it was a bit of a shock to wake up in a construction site. A quick get away and we headed to Una, the youngest national park in B&H. We passed through the park stopping to marvel at the carpet of leaves cloaking the road in color. Another magnificent waterfall waited for us in the middle of the park and we were once again able to feel the spray of the mist on our faces. As per usual, I had a “life is grand” moment while closing my eyes and giving into the deafening roar of the waterfall. I never realized that such an incredible noise would bring so much peace as the rest of the world was drowned out by the cacophony. I was feeling rather poetic as I watched the river tumble over itself, never ceasing its forward push, and I realized that life is much the same. No matter what happens, or how hard things may be, things just keep on moving forward. We grow and change and nothing will ever be able to stop that which is the brilliance of life. Time heals all. After getting lost deep in my thoughts in Una we continued our journey north. We bid Bosnia a final farewell as we crossed back into Croatia. Plitvice National Park is yet another destination I have only ever dreamed of, so of course I couldn’t help smiling to myself as we pulled into the park for the evening. A quiet evening of writing and reading and seeking hot tea in hotels ended the day.

Wake up view.

Una.

Waterfall. Duh. 

Day 10: A vibrantly red forest surrounded me as I emerged from deep within my sleeping bag. I had taken to sleeping with two pairs of pants, wool socks, a sweater, and an insulation piece to make it through the nights comfortably. For a moment I didn’t remember where I was. Being on the move constantly tends to have that effect. It was with a lot of joy and excitement that I remembered we were in Plitvice. I was about to witness waterfalls that up until this point had only ever been featured on my Pinterest under a “Take Me Here” folder. The park met and surpassed my expectations. Ignoring the signs, warnings, and blocked paths, Joel and I headed down into the (flooded) lower canyon. We wound away through water so clear you can see details on the smallest stones coating the bottom of the river. The high amount of rain caused the water to reach up to, and sometimes over, the wooden pathways we were exploring. I don’t have adequate words for the waterfalls. Ribbons of soft teal water cascaded merrily over countless edges, collecting in pools of astounding beauty. Water plants bobbed enthusiastically in the endless current and the trees reluctantly let the last of their leaves waft down to rest on the paths. It was as perfect as can be. With a heavy heart, we left Plitvice and then Croatia as we crossed the border into Slovenia. A dark arrival at the coast town, Piran, brought us together with Joel’s wonderful friend, Karis. We exchanged travel stories of the last few weeks over dinner, hot wine and goulash for me (shocking, I know) before driving north again and resting for the night. Thanks to Karis’s work in the Italian wine harvest we had access to three cases of exquisite wine which was not diminished by the fact that we simply passed the bottles around in the car, listening to the rain pouring down outside.

Wake up view.

Road Tripping: Part One

It all started months ago. A friend from work, Joel, and I started tossing around the idea of renting a car for a few weeks in Europe. We discussed possibilities for weeks before deciding, two nights before we embarked on the journey, to head to The Balkans.

Day one: We picked up our Ford station wagon in Budapest and our first stop was TESCO. Laden down with peanut butter, nutella, carrots, meat sticks, and other necessities we hit the road for Bosnia & Herzegovina (a name that to this day we still cannot pronounce despite the hundreds of attempts). Spotify playlists and preztles saw us through first the Croatian border and then the B&H border. Immediately the atmosphere in the car changed as we spotted our first war torn buildings still riddled with bullet holes and abandoned on the side of the road. Before the trip we had spent minimal time researching but we did learn about the 5 million landmines that were left as a casualty from the civil war that rocked B&H in the 1990's. Warnings to not even step off the side of the road to pee for fear of death still rang in our ears as we pulled into the border town, Banja Luka. Up until this point our faithful Tomtom GPS had not led us astray. It was if she was waiting for our nerves to be shot before attempting to send us down a one way trap resulting in us landing in uncharted territory. Darkness lurked all around us as we tried to follow along the side of our planned route, so tantalizingly close, yet so far away. Eventually, as is usually the case, things worked themselves out and we found ourselves giggling at our unnecessary panic as we sped down the highway in the right direction once again. The feeling of unease started to ebb slightly as we left god forsaken Banja Luka behind and entered a canyon illuminated by the moon’s reflection on the surrounding fog. Fallen power lines and old spotlights lined the river, their skull and crossbones warning signs shining brightly in our headlights. We powered through, not feeling very certain that Bosnia was the place we should be, and ultimately ended up in Jajce. It was nearly midnight when we called it quits and found a quiet road to pull off and sleep for the night hoping that country would seem more welcoming in the daylight.

Day two: After one freezing night in the car and a promise to better dress myself for bed, we awoke in a color riddled land. Leaves of the brightest reds carpeted the road as we crept from our sleeping spot. A tiny pup successfully broke my heart as he joined our party during one of many photo breaks, seemingly content to have found his new people before we jumped in the car and watched him grow smaller in the rear view mirror. Jajce was the destination of choice because it boasts one of B&H’s most beautiful waterfalls. A quick drive into town and we discovered the fall, hidden by the fog, directly across from a not so scenic gas station. More stunning to me than the waterfall were the houses along the river that had been decimated by the war. It is one thing to hear about a war and yet another thing to witness the destruction which caused chills even 19 years after the fact. From Jajce we traveled on towards Sarajevo, the capital of the country. We passed breathtaking canyons boasting their fall leaves. The whole scene would have been more picturesque had bullet riddled, abandoned buildings not dotted each and every town we passed through. Sarajevo proved to be another shock as massive apartments bore evidence of the 3+ year siege the capital suffered. We strolled through old town’s market which was reminiscent of Turkey’s bazaar and gazed at mosques, churches, and monuments. It didn't take long for us to notice the grave markers lining every available patch of green on the surrounding hills. Hundreds upon hundreds of markers rose around the city as an omnipresent reminder of the struggle they faced. With limited cemetery space parks began to house the dead as well causing graves to dot the city park as casually as benches. Yet another death, but this one much older, took place in the city when Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand was shot and killed, starting WW1. As Joel and I strolled across the bridge where it all took place I tried to imagine what the world we live in would look like had that shot not been fired and decided that war is inevitable. It is hard to feel optimistic about games of war when surrounded by torn buildings and tombs. A delightful meal of grilled meat and vegetables which we stuffed with glee into pitas significantly improved my mood. After passing a landmine warning sign we decided it was time for the mountains. We jumped in the car, drove into the darkness, pulled over, and slept again wondering what the next day would bring.

Day 3: I awoke to a man’s curious face peering in the window and had a mini panic attack. Joel casually climbed out of the car and greeted the peeping tom whom left moments later when a bus pulled over to grab him. The view was spectacular. We were on top of the world overlooking a fog covered valley surrounded by austere peaks rising to the sky. Full of hope for the day we continued our journey to Sutjeska National Park, the oldest in Bosnia & Herzegovina. First stop was the WW2 memorial. Faces carved into two impressive rocks pay tribute to the slaughter of Bosnians by Hitler’s forces during the war. From there we urged our car up a precarious mountain road comprising of a single lane strewn with blood red leaves that covered up pot holes threatening to pop our tires. We were rewarded at the top of the anxiety provoking drive by more outstanding views, and a snug lake nestled into the landscape. After enjoying our signature breakfast of muesli, rice milk, and a banana we crept back down the mountain and headed to Montenegro. “Think Ebola” signs were posted at the border crossing, warning travelers to report immediately if they had been in an at risk country. I immediately fell in love with Montenegro. Gorges with ice blue water, sheer cliff faces, and strange flora surpassed my high expectations within minutes. Following a narrow stretch of road we climbed into the clouds themselves with each switch back revealing a more astounding view of the canyon below. When we could finally climb no higher we pulled off the road to watch a rain storm blow in while sneaking cheeky spoonfuls of nutella before turning in for the night.

Day 4: We awoke after an extremely windy and rainy night to find ourselves on a golden plain with a rainbow stretching across the sky to welcome the morning. Following the path we were on the previous night we continued our trek through Durmitor National Park, stopping every ten minutes to express our wonder and snap photos. The highlight of the park was a lone basketball hoop on the top of a ridge that used the road as its court.  It somehow managed to seem to natural despite the bizarre conditions. Rain and wind pelted us off the mountain so we continued our trek and headed towards Ostrog Monastery, an epic ordeal built directly into a rock wall. My first glimpse of the Monastery had me in awe as I gazed up the mountain side and could just barely make out the shape of the church carved in the face of the rock. Unfortunately, as it happens, there was construction hammering on at the site which only slightly dampened the atmosphere. With Joel’s nudging we entered the heart of the Monastery and I immediately balked with unease. A coffin lay open with devout tourists signaling hail Marys as they were prayed for and blessed by a priest. Feeling very out of my league I made a hasty retreat out of the room and down the mountain. From the monastery we headed towards Skadar Lake. Here we were hornswaggled thanks to our Hungarian license plates and ended up caving into the pressures of our new found, not entirely welcome, tourguide. He persuaded us to eat in his restaurant where I was served the saddest bowl of soup of my life. Considering A) how spoilt I have been with goulash and mountain stew, and B) the fact that this was our first hot meal in days, the watery soup revived from a packet with two limp pieces of broccoli almost had me in tears. Feeling very cheated we headed up to a look out in the pitch blackness of night and slept once more.

Day 5: As per usual we awoke to an insanely beautiful view of Skadar Lake. The fall colors making an already impressive sight seem other worldly. It had been raining on us at this point for a solid two days. We hit the road and were rewarded with our first glimpse of the coast. The Adriatic Sea beat relentlessly against the rocks as we wound our way along the shoreline. A quick stop to see Sveti Stefan, an island completely covered in ancient buildings (which is now an outrageously expensive resort). A few minutes later I found myself seated on a wall, watching the waves crash against the shore beneath my feet. There are times in life when I am completely overwhelmed by how amazing life can be. The feeling of infinite wonder that filled me as I gazed out into the sea is something that I am almost becoming used to. Each day is filled with incredible new sights, challenges, and experiences. It is what makes life worth living, and without this feeling of awe I would be lost. Budva proved to be a good pit stop as we roamed the ancient fortress, me slipping on the wet cobblestone streets as usual. The rain didn’t let up as we traveled up from the coast to visit Montenegro’s old capital city Cetinje. Another monastery, palace, and reminder that I have been in Europe too long already as these wonders become “just another…”. The rain worsened and we decided to splurge and get a hostel for the night in Kotor. As we traveled down 20 or so very sharp switchbacks, the storm really let loose. Buckets of water fell as the sky was illuminated by shocking streaks of the most vibrant purple lightening. Parking was a nightmare and the hostel seemed like a bust so with a heavy heart and rain sodden clothing we decided to sleep in the car once more. Just as we were about to pull out of a gas station and head for the monsoon mountains again we were approached by a gentleman who asked if we needed a place to stay. Our tired bodies thought more about the prospect of a hot shower than how bizarre it was to be propositioned for a room in a gas station parking lot. Without much hesitation we agreed, let the stranger climb into the car, followed his directions, and ended up at his house. An ancient old grandma was there with an easy smile and hot tea waiting for us. A night of wifi, showers, and a proper bed did the mind and soul some good.