On our trip to Mostar, with an absurdly steep hillside below us, the driver misjudged a corner, bounced over the kerb and grated along the crash barrier. Thankfully there was a crash barrier (much of the journey through similar terrain lacked them), which was intact (the barrier on the corner a few before was in pieces), and seemingly well built. We passed vehicles on blind corners, smelt that comforting smell of the brakes cooking and played chicken with other vehicles, including buses and trucks, in tunnels that were barely big enough. The blood curdling screeches that occurred when we grazed the tunnel walls suggested that maybe they weren't big enough. When we reached our destination we did not crouch down and kiss the ground or clap (as we have witnessed on a disconcerting number of flights) but we felt grateful for having made it.
On the trip from Mostar, much was repeated, including the passing and the games of chicken (my favourite time was when the driver got the bus skidding somewhat sideways). This time however, my seat came with two novel features: auto-recline and lateral-eject. Whether the recline button was depressed or not, the seat would recline of its own volition, sometimes slowly and sometimes fast. Right hand corners also presented a challenge to some proximate passengers, as whenever we entered a sharp enough corner my seat would slide laterally into the aisle. The first time it happened, the look of confusion and amusement on my face was trumped by the look of mild panic on the face of the passenger whom I was rapidly approaching.
As we approached the border with Montenegro, and met the stationary queue of traffic waiting for their turn to cross, our driver took the bold step of driving (at speed) down the wrong side of the unsealed road. When he first met an oncoming car, we avoided a collision through the car ending up off the road. On the return journey across the border, thankfully our driver was more sensible and just waited in the queue. A semi-trailer, whose time was clearly more important than anyone else's, drove up the wrong side of the road, briefly blocking up the entire border.
Arriving in Budva what seems like an eternity ago, but is only 10 or so days earlier than when this post went up, we had high hopes. The English 'summer' had left us both pining for, but largely incapable of safely experiencing, some sun. Budva also functioned as the first of our stop points along the journey. We have found that we need a few days of down time every few weeks, in order to recharge our batteries.
Unfortunately, Budva was a disappointment. As is the case with most disappointments, it was all about expectations. Our accommodation, which rated very highly on trip advisor and had received glowing reviews on a number of booking websites, was the first thing that did not meet expectations, including those set by the hostel itself. Some aspects though were simply funny, like their novel way to reduce the use of the air conditioners.
Throughout the latter part of trip, we have seen many an example of someone avoiding the high cost of running an air conditioner. Bus drivers when asked about air conditioning are prone to shrug and walk away. One said, on being asked by a desperately overheating and overweight man, that it didn't work. He didn't flinch or show any embarrassment when it was turned on later in the trip. In our accommodation in Budva, they tried a novel approach - disco air conditioners. Whenever the air conditioner was turned on, the displayed flashed fluro blue, yellow and purple, of such an intensity that it lit up a dark room. Even in the day time, it was visible through the window.
I suppose they may have been trying to get us in the mood, for Budva it seems is a place that people from the region come to to party. On the beachfront, side by side, are four open air night clubs. Each tries to out do the others at two things - volume of their sound system and number of people per square foot. If being squished up against sweaty/greasy strangers, with barely enough space to get a drink to your mouth and definitely not enough to dance, with very average music challenging your eardrums to burst, then they are the place for you.
During the day, the beaches are a little like the nightclubs, though mostly without the blaring music, as every square foot is crammed by bronzed bodies of all shapes and sizes worshipping the sun. While tanning oils, mostly homemade, abound, few sun protection products are seen. Even though we are both still sporting fading office tans, we gave the homemade olive and lime tanning oil a miss. Instead, we took the opportunity to explore the surrounding area, including nearby Kotor, a charming and much quieter place with a Venetian style old town, fjord like landscape and waterside bars. It provided a very welcome respite.
From Budva we travelled up to Dubrovnik, then on to Hvar (an island off the coast) and to Split, on the train from which I write this.
