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.
