Fortress Walls for Miles

Kotor, Montenegro

KOTOR, MONTENEGRO Spectacular - all of Montenegro! I don't believe I've used that adjective yet. On the expansive shores of Skadar Lake between Podgorica and and Petrovac we found the remains of a castle - Nick and I had it to ourselves to explore. In Bar, along the Adriatic, we treked around the crumbling ruins of the old town at the foot of Mount Rumiza. In Budva, with its sandy beaches, we discovered its old town built on an island that was originally connected to the mainland by a sandbar. In Sveti Stefan we weren't allowed to visit the majestic hotel complex that covers an island reachable by a promenade over a sandbar - it's reserved for the rich and famous. In Bigovic, a peaceful fishing village, accessible through a rugged winding single lane road, we lunched. Nick had squid and I seabass - delicious - our favorite dishes. In Kotor, we gawked at the fortress walls running for miles around and up the steep mountain cliffs. We decided to huff and puff a third of the way to the top before it started to rain, but not before we snapped lots of pictures of the fjord below ringed by mountains percipitously rising out of the sea. A little further down the road in Perast, the mountains continue to rise straight up from the sea serving as a backdrop for this fishing village where a church has been built on an island a few hundred meters out in the bay. Shifting down into first and second gears, Nick powered our way up the 1749 meter-high Mount Lovcen. It started to rain again, but not until we were able to take pictures of the sea, fjords, and mountains shrinking below us. We had almost reached the top when an approaching car signaled us to stop. "You can't get through. There's been an accident." Mifted, but glad that we had discovered the natural beauty of this area, we turned around; through miserable driving conditions, we returned to Podgorica via Budva.

A Strange Encounter

Nick Calling Home

PETROVAC, MONTENEGRO Nick and I rented a car, drove to the Adriatic, saw some incredible natural and man made sights, and found a quaint little beach town (Petrovac) within a small cove along the Adriatic where we decided to stay. I could bore you with all the exquisite sights we took in but I'd rather tell you about a couple we met this morning in Podgorica. Until then we hadn't seen any Americans and the hotel clerk had told us we were a rare commodity. But then, as we were about to sit down for breakfast, an American couple greeted us, "You're the American gentlemen from San Francisco?" "Yes, and you?" "San Francisco, Mission District." "Southbeach." "We work there." "Where?" "At Wallgreens, Fourth and Townsend." "You're kidding. We shop there all the time. What do you do there?" I said. "I'm a Pharmacist," the man said. "We get our prescriptions filled there." I said. "What's your name?" the Pharmacist asked. "David Beck." "I don't remember that name." "How about Debra Robins?" "Oh yes," he exclaimed. "She's definitely one of our top ten customers!"

Montenegro Photo Album

They'll Destroy the Car

View from Train

PODGORICA, MONTENEGRO We were on the sleeper train 12 1/2 hours 4 1/2 hours longer than scheduled. "Did we take the wrong train?" I asked a fellow passenger. "No, all the trains run late. On the single tracks through the mountains, they have to wait for other trains to pass before proceeding and when those trains are late, everything backs up." Nick on meds was able to sleep through much of it but I could not. Our luck though was to find a hotel Hemmingway would have loved just a few meters from the train station in this remote part of the world. Podgorica with 200,000 is the the capital of the six-year old country of Montenegro, a country of one million. The city is not beautiful but the surrounding mountains give it a special isolated charm. Like the rest of former Yougoslavia, the country is conflicted. The population voted for independence, but many want to be a part of Serbia. Our hotel clerk is quite vocal, "We need to be one country with Serbia." But with respect to the Croatia, "I hate the Croatians. They're all liers." And on Kosovo, "No, they should be a part of Serbia - definitely. It's your fault. You're the boss," referring to the United States. The hotel can rent us a car and we can drive to any of the neighboring countries but Croatia. "No, they will see the plates, and destroy the car," the clerk exclaims. Although Montenegro is not a part of the European community or the Eurozone, they have adopted the Euro as their currency. Prices are low. We should save some money here.

Hotel Mr. President

Museum Sign

BELGRADE, SERBIA A large painted portrait of Vaclav Havel hung over my bed. In every room of the hotel 'Mr. President' was a picture of a president; George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, George Bush. I asked at the front desk, "Is Stalin included?" "Oh yes," the clerk said smiling. "What about Slobodan Milosevic?" She looked down, furrowed her brow, and shook her head. "What about Tito?" She raised her head, her face bursting into a smile, "Oh yes, he has the penthouse on the top floor!" "You like Tito," I asked. "Yes, he was very good. We weren't as poor then." Nick (my friend who will be traveling with me for awhile) finally arrived and joined in the conversation. We grilled the young clerk about Belgrade, the 1999 bombings, and the current political situation. I insisted that we visit the Military Museum where the sign read: "65 Years of Victory over Fascism." At the museum we told the attendant that we were espescially interested in the last 65 years referring to the sign outside. "Yes, it's all here," she assured us. We paid the $2.50 and wanted to start from the present and work backwards. "No, you must go in the other direction," she insisted. We complied. The museum's narrative was that of a single Yougoslavia (Serbia, Slovenia, Croatia, Kosovo, Bosnia Herzegovina, Macedonia, and Montenegro) unified in their heroic fight against oppression. As we approached the exit, the exibit concluded in the year 1945. Disappointed, I asked the attendant, "What happened to the '65 Years of Victory over Fascism?'" "Oh, that exhibit ended in June." "Who discontinued it?" Nick asked. "I don't know," she said, rolling her eyes. "Why the sign outside?" I asked puzzled and mifted that she had led us on. She just shrugged her shoulders as if to say I don't know.

Serbia Photo Album

65 Years of Victory

Apartment Building

BELGRADE, SERBIA The buildings are blackened, broken down, and filthy; laundry hangs off balconies; streets are strewn with cigarrette butts and other trash; people are dressed in soviet era hand-me-downs; a sweet but grimy seven year-old holds out her cap asking for money. I feel sorry for her and look around to see where her adult handler might be hiding. A seedy sinisterness hangs in the air. I'm not feeling safe.

"Aren't you a little scared," A young man asks, recognzing my American accent, as I'm about to check into the nearest hotel.

"Uh?"

"It's been just eleven years since you bombed them."

"Where are you from?"

"Norway."

"Wasn't that a NATO operation and isn't Norway a part of NATO?"

"Yes, but that's not how they see it."

A sign over the military museum reads: "65 Years of Victory over Fascism." They think they've been victorious? All those years under communist rule, the legacy of which you can see in the squalor of those grimy concrete block apartment buildings, the disfunctional transportation system, the bureaucratic passport controls, and the stolid gloom and lack of enterprise. They've experimented with democracy and the free enterprise system; they chose the genocidal Slobodan Milosevic. I don't know where this country is headed, but it's certain, it's too soon for them to claim victory.

Educational Systems

Craig Vinter

BELGRADE, SERBIA Since I had no traveling companions during the six hour train ride from Zagreb to Belgrade, I'll report on some previous experiences: from Ljubljana to Rijeka I rode with two students (Engineering and Law) from Spain; from Graz to Maribor with two Czech students (music and medical). Different countries, but the same college experience. Out of high school (gymnasium), they had to choose a course of study; once chosen they could not deviate from that course without starting over. They studied only courses pertinent to their chosen fields. The law student said, "I've only taken law courses - no history, no science, nothing but law." The medical student said, "I don't like medicine, but I can't aford to start over." In contrast, Rachel's University won't allow her to declare a major in her freshman year. The California JC system is giving Josh time to explore his interests before choosing a university. Some noteworthy people have chosen this course: John Madden and Bill Walsh attended the College of San Mateo. Craig Vinter, creator of artificial life, also began his studies at CSM. In his autobiography, Vinter says, it was an English teacher at CSM that had the most influence on him. It's interesting to speculate if these notables would have achieved the success they had, had they found themselves in the European school system. The European system strikes me as unimaginatively sterile; efficient, however, in cranking out PhD's of every ilk. You see "Dr" titles everywhere. It's comical to see politcal campaign billboard's with "Dr" before the candidate's name as if that certifies the candidate's qualification.

A Billion Dollar Idea

Billion Dollar Idea

ZAGREB, CROATIA The laundromat, the only one in a city of 800 thousand, is about twenty minutes by tram from the main rail station. Although I had the address and I had found the right street, I still had to ask for directions twice before finding the tiny place in an inconspicuous corner of a large concrete apartment building. It had six wash machines and four dryers, none of which was coin operated. An attendant took my load of wash and said, "Come back in two hours but no later than three because that's when I close." Nothing to do, I took the tram back to town and returned that afternoon. The lady charged eight dollars. I paid another three dollars riding the tram to and fro. It struck me, here's a fantastic opportunity - a chain of laudromats. The hotel clerk had told me, "You won't find laudromats anywhere in the former Yougoslavia countries. This is the only one I know." I had noticed, throughout Eastern Europe, people hang their clothes on their balconies to dry. An elderly man born and raised in Croatia but now living in Australia said, "There are all sorts of business opportunities here. People just don't get it. Under communism starting a business wasn't allowed." Someone seems to be trying to change that. In the City Guide, there's a section outlining the steps in setting up an LLC. One company claims it can set one up within seven days, Wanna be billionaires, here's your opportunity.

I Love America, But...

View from Bus

ZAGREB, CROATIA Chris, 17, born and raised in Zagreb, was my traveling companion on the 3 1/2 hour bus ride from Zadar to Zagreb. At 6' 4", he had been recruited as a linebacker by Mater Dei High School in New Jersey where he was returning for his senior year after working the summer in Croatia. Fluent in English and German, he plans to attend West Point next year. "I love America, but eventually I want to return to Croatia, because this is where I was born and raised," he said. "The government here is corrupt. You've heard of our former Prime Minister, Ivo Sanader, in cahoots with the mafia? We have a beautiful country but the government keeps screwing it up." The trip went fast, as Chris answered questions, and volunteered information about his country, but with respect to those perplexing rocks between Split and Zadar, he had no clue. One mystery he did solve is why the bus only takes 3 1/2 hours while the train nine. "The train has to go over Mount Velebit. That was the original route of the bus before they built the freeway and the tunnel through the mountain." Arriving in Zagreb I was able to find a hotel quickly - the best room I've had so far. I'm going to try to get my wash done tomorrow, but I learned that the only laundromat is outside of town.

Croatia Photo Album

Not So Functional

Zadar, Croatia

ZADAR, CROATIA No one reommended I stop in Zadar, but I thought it would be a nice way to break up the five hour bus ride to Zagreb. Zadar lies on the Adriatic between Split and Rijeka and from the little I've seen appears to be a city and area worth exploring. I say "appears to be" because I spent the afternoon trying to find a place to stay. There is just one hotel in Old Town and it charges $200 per night and another outside of Old Town that charges $150. In hindsight, I should have taken one of these hotels. With no taxis in sight, I ended up walking ten kilometers with luggage in tow to end up in a hotel that is close to nothing. Oh well, live and learn. I give Zadar my lowest rating for accessibility, just one star. Actually, of the ten countries I've been to, Croatia, with all of its historical and natural charm, is sadly the least amenable to the traveler; much of its disfunctionality due, I suspect, to the political climate. A curious example of the country's disfunctionality is the phenomenon I noticed on the 110 kilometer bus ride from Split: beautiful scenery, the Adriatic on one side and low mountains on the other, but rocks everywhere; no agriculture, just rocks, shrubs, and stubby trees. Curiously, as far as the eye can see, considerable effort has gone into carefully, but often haphazardly, organizing the rocks into mounds, fences, pyramids, squares, and circles. Often the rocks seem to delineate property lines, but to what end? There aren't any homes or farms; there's nothing grown or raised. Did this happen recently or over thousands of years? I fail to see the functionality.

Tranquil Blue Sea

Trogir, Croatia

TROGIR, CROATIA The ancient town of Trogir is on a small island sandwiched between the mainland and another bigger island, Ciovo, 27 kilometers from Split. More than one person told me I must see it; indeed it's truly picturesque, crumbling, with a history dating back 2,300 years - first settled by the Greeks. I made the mandatory trek through the Old Town and Kamerlengo Castle, then took the bridge over to Ciovo Island, the sea was a tranquil blue, smooth as a mirror. A small cove on the far side allowed access to the sea off a few protruding rocks. As I arrived an older couple had just finished swiming and were laying out their towels on a little space at one end of the rocks. I kicked myself for not having brought my swimsuit and settled for sitting on a rock with my feet dangling in the water. After a few moments a man came down the rocky incline, inspected the water, stripped down to his briefs, and dove in. No one else showed up, so I bravely did the same, and for the next five hours swam, off and on, in this serenely peaceful secluded little cove. I must have forgotten or maybe had never truly experienced before what it's like to swim in placid salt water where it's almost possible to fall asleep floating on your back.