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British Mensa Travel Special Interest Group |
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Croatia,
Bosnia, Montenegro Today is the day. You go to police station; pay fine. Today the day.’ The young Bosnian policewoman continued to try to hand me a printed sheet showing a car and a date. Fine? Thoughts raced through my mind, for what, how much, where? ‘English,’ I said again, trying not to sound as bewildered as I felt, still unsure as to what I was, or had been, doing wrong, and noticing that she had a gun in a holster on her hip that was pretty much level with my face. We had been
pulled over by this police woman stepping out into the road and motioning
me over. There were other cars there, but I wasn’t sure for what
reason she was pulling us over. There was a burst of Bosnian (with the
word English in it) and a much bigger colleague arrives, and brusquely
asks for my licence. Carefully I handed over my UK licence. ‘Yes,’ I stammered, and suddenly all was sweetness and light. Literally; we were briefly told we must keep our car headlights on during the day (I mentioned that we weren’t aware of this) and we were then told that today was the first day of the crackdown on drivers not doing this. We were then told by the bigger colleague we could continue – much, I thought, to the consternation of the younger policewoman, and we did; thanking the officers, but with our hearts in our mouths wondering how we got here… We had not
initially planned to visit the old Yugoslavia countries; as we had been
considering going to Albania (only because it received a good write up
in a book about ‘dangerous countries’!), but the difficulty
of getting (cheapish) flights and of driving a hire car beyond its borders
made us decide to switch the trip and to go further up the same coast.
However, when you see these countries’ names, what’s your reaction?
Our arrival into Dubrovnik was delayed by four hours due to a broken down plane(s). So having rushed to the airport to ensure we were in time for the very early flight, we ended up kicking our heels for over four hours. Still, we arrived safely and were out of the airport and on the bus quickly (they didn’t even look at our passports – though this was to change later). We boarded the city bus and were expecting to pay, but the man taking payments suddenly walked off the coach before he got to us, the coach left and we sat there for the next 40 minutes waiting to be asked to pay, but weren’t – result! The bus dropped us at the Old Town gate, from where our hotel was just a few metres up the road. We checked in and looked around the hotel. We had been given a room in the annexe, but due to our status (points mean prizes), we had a bottle of wine and some deserts awaiting us; we were also given access to the executive lounge, which offered free food and drink all day. We then headed into the Old Town for a look around. Dubrovnik was under siege from the Bosnian and Montenegrin armies for 86 days during the winter of 1991/92. During this time, the armies shelled the city and in particular targeted the Old Town. Today some of those scars are still visible, including marks on walls and the pavement from shell fragments. The Old Town is hemmed in by 2 km of walls and is full of narrow alleys in a grid pattern. The main street is little wider than two cars (but thankfully the town is car free), and all the buildings are made of white stone with terracotta red roofs. The town seems to be more Italian than Italy! We walked out the kinks from all the sitting around the airport by walking through to the harbour and back; getting our bearings and stretching our legs. The weather was warm and the town (at that time) very relaxing. Sunday dawned
warm but overcast and windy. We hit Dubrovnik running – we bought
a museum day pass (eight entries to museums and sites in total) and set
off. We started by walking the walls, 2 km around and above the Old Town,
offering great views both into and around the town. The wind was very
strong and the sea was getting rough. However, half way around the walls,
we entered the maritime museum which was in the old main bastion of the
walls. It was an interesting historical overview of the city which started
because of the sheltered port and its geographical position for the shipping
trade. By the 8th century AD the town was trading across to Italy and
Greece and beginning to move into Turkey and North Africa. We only saw three other groups, one going down, two up. The weather got hotter as the sky cleared, making the going sticky and sweaty. We got into the edge of the new town, but found that the walk through to the Old Town was almost as long as the walk down the hillside. As we walked back to the hotel we counted the cruise ship passengers. There were many bus loads of passengers with stickers confirming their names (in case they forgot), the ship (in case they forgot) and the bus number (again, just in case they forgot). These packs ranged around the town following a hand or umbrella held high by the guide and being shouted at, talked to through a megaphone or listening to a commentary on headphones. On passing the bus drop off point, we were stunned to see a long queue waiting to board the buses back to the ships. They were lucky if they got four hours in the town. Indeed the town served these passengers but offering ‘lite lunch’ knowing that the passengers from the cruise ships didn’t have long or need a big lunch due to the food available on board. That evening we went for dinner in a restaurant across from the hotel. This was a local style restaurant with some great food. However when we arrived the sky was clouding over and it felt that a storm was brewing. While eating we watched as the hillside above town turned red, with the setting sun, quite unnerving our waiter. Then the storm started, with the rain getting heavier by the minute; all the while, we were warm and comfortable on the terrace under cover. Just when we thought it couldn’t rain any heavier – it did. The storm slowly moved across us with, at one point, the lightning and thunder almost together. It was a powerful reminder of how much nature can surprise and awe. We later found out that all flights had been diverted from 6pm that night until the following morning. Monday was the day we got the car. But we had decided to stay in the hotel and do day trips rather than move around. This meant that our first trip was going to be a trip to the Ostrog Monastery. This entailed a trip through Bosnia into Montenegro and driving halfway up a hillside. We left Croatia going east, and entered Bosnia. The process of moving between countries becoming very familiar – passports and car documents to border control officer, when leaving first country and 1000 metres later, same documents again for entering (we got eight stamps on this day alone). Travelling through Bosnia it was clear that the standard of living was much lower than Croatia. It seemed that Bosnia didn’t come out of the war well as well as Croatia; however beautiful the country was it felt poor and there was generally very little traffic on the roads. What we discovered later is that many Croats and Bosnians, when in the other’s country, try to pretend they are English because they refuse to acknowledge the other side following the war. We of course were caught up in that, but at least we were telling the truth... However, the whole episode left a taste in our mouths and we seriously considered turning round and leaving the country then and there. Still we carried on, with the countryside becoming more beautiful as we travelled further from the coast. Crossing into Montenegro was the same, but the countryside got even more beautiful - wonderful aquamarine blue lakes, under a deep blue sky, the hillside landscape similar to California or southern Spain. It was obvious that the amount of traffic had decreased since Croatia, and the signs on the road become more interesting, often making driving a challenge. We finally turned off the main road onto the ‘mountain road’ to Ostrog. The monastery is built into the side of a cliff face, high up. The switchbacks got worse and the car was becoming hotter, but after many miles, we suddenly found ourselves at the car park for the complex. As we walked into the grounds, we passed many cars that were ticking as they cooled. The first complex is for pilgrims and includes accommodation and a couple of small chapels in the rock face. We then walked to the second church higher on the cliff face and first entered a small chapel, with a second smaller chamber behind. Here the faithful pilgrims made a sign for the cross at four icons, and along the rear wall was a coffin, with (I assume) a mummified body. Certainly, the body was covered, but we were certain that it was a body. Then we climbed higher into the church which is mainly a façade – another couple of small chapels and that was it. The bathroom facilities were porcelain holes in the floor, but the taps were motion sensor activated. As you can imagine the journey back down the hill was as hair-raising as coming, and we were certainly pleased to get back to the hotel! On Tuesday we decided to stay in Croatia following the police incident, so we headed north. Here Croatia is the coastal plain, with a small gap about 30 miles north of Dubrovnik where Bosnia comes to the coast before Croatia starts again and expands. We decided to go to north as far as we could, but the first border post was some four kilometres from the border! Anyway, we had seen from the road another road which led onto a peninsula that had a very large walled town While we were travelling back, we marvelled at the clear water which had long lines of buoys. These were oyster and mussel farms, proof of the purity of the water. The town
we had seen was Ston. Ston claims to have the longest stone walls in Europe
at over 5 km in length. These go up the mountain and around Ston and on
and around Mali Ston over a mile away. It’s also the only remaining
location in Croatia for the natural drying of sea salt in large salt pans.
The old town is very small but is wonderfully evocative of better times.
As we climbed the walls, we saw collapsed houses and also the Nunnery.
It was a magical place to which one could retire easily. We decided to head south into Montenegro and the Bay of Kotor. One of our friends from the night before joined us for the trip and we headed to the border and on to the bay through the modern town of Herceg Novi. The inlet from the sea is at its narrowest less than a kilometre. This makes the bay very calm and it was a centre of shipping and a safe haven on the coast for many centuries. Indeed there are two islands, one natural with a church and a second that it’s claimed is the product of sailors dropping a stone overboard as a ‘thank you’ to the Virgin Mary, following a claim of a rescue and sighting of her. The bay has high mountains surrounding it, which makes standing at the water’s edge give the feeling of being hemmed in. We started on the north side of the bay and headed around, passing through places that we would stop on our return; however, we stopped at the Roman Mosaics. This villa was only a few metres from the shore and would have had commanding views across the bay. The mosaics were good but the whole thing felt very much unloved. We carried on round to Kotor. This is a small, walled town, dating back to the 13th century with new buildings right up to the 19th century. The walls circle the Old Town and again it’s very much narrow streets and churches. We went into the cathedral and saw the saint’s relics. Mainly it was small parts of bone, some on display, some in silver and gold caskets. We then went on the walls, and a smaller church and a post office for stamps. We then stopped for a coffee, before heading back around the bay. Kotor is claimed to be the next Dubrovnik with many coastal cruise ships stopping here. We then stopped at Prestat, a small (now) village on the shore. It was in the 14th/15th century quite a large port and shipping centre (don’t they all seem to be). The village is car free (well, tourist car free) and is about 1.5 kms long. The water here, as everywhere, is crystal clear. The sun and the white walls made it very hot, and as elsewhere, we went around and selected the house that we would have if we could... Prestat is like Ston, a place to retire to. Finally, as we headed back we found the prehistoric petroglyphs (ancient rock art). We saw the sign and after much missing of turnings found ourselves at the end of a narrow road. The locals indicated that we should follow what seemed to be a stream bed. I think the three of us were surprised. Normally ancient rock art is preserved and managed in careful detail with specific requirements as to how close you can get to the actual art. We walked
up the stream bed and found ourselves at the cliff wall, in a smallish
amphitheatre. Here outside on the rocks were the carvings, a series of
horned animals (reindeer, moose, elk?) running from left to right in an
inaccessible location on the cliff side. No covering of the art, no payment,
no ‘interruption board(s)’, no other visitors. Just us; walking
up a stream bed, with nothing but the sounds of birds and insects. What
a great feeling! Thursday was the day to return home, which began worryingly with reports of a French air traffic controllers strike. We walked around the old town before heading for Cavtat. This seemed to be a boating area, with again a wonderful bay and old town. After a long walk and coffee watching the boats, we headed for the airport, where the plane was on time arriving, but we left 30 minutes late, arriving the equivalent 30 minutes late in the UK. Other than
the issue in Bosnia the holiday was without fault, it was wonderful, warm
sunny and beautiful countryside. We never made it to Mostar and yet we
found great sites from prehistory to modern day, restaurants, beaches,
pristine countryside, and had a varied yet interesting time. It was difficult
to leave but certainly a country to return to. First published in VISA 94 (Dec 2010) |