Part of the adventure is getting there: I traveled by bus from Croatia to Budva, Montenegro. This is how most locals go from one small country to the next. The buses are very nice and I had the option of relaxing in a cushy seat and chatting with a neighbor if I wanted, or I could rest, or sleep. And the best part is I didnt have to pay a hundred dollars for an extra bag. By bus, I paid less than a euro a bag.
I arrived at the bus station in Dubrovnik with six minutes to spare, by the clock. I scurried to buy two chocolate croissants for the trip. No need for the haste, however, as it took twenty minutes to load the luggage under the bus. While I was waiting I met a lovely woman from Senegal. on her unusual earrings. I make them myself. I just sold my last pair, she said laughing. She now lives in England and travels a lot. She left her assigned seat on the bus to sit across from me for part of the journey so we could share travel tales. My seat
Need to check with my son about how this is done. I like it. He tells me he thinks they are cookies wrapped in banana leaf. Very clever...What do you think? (I thought they were plants.)
partner was another young woman with an Italian passport, but she was from Colombia, a place I have yet to experience. I also visited with a sweet woman from Croatia who later encouraged me to go to a psychological healing seminar to deal with the loss of my son, Anthony. He died more than twenty years ago. I tried to be polite, but I was not receptive to her idea.
We made two stops for border control, which was disruptive and time consuming, but interesting. We exited the bus, took out our luggage, maneuvered it to a window and presented our passport. Our luggage was examined and returned. We proceeded to a parking lot and waited while our bus was searched inside and out, and even under the carriage. We boarded the bus and went across a area and then did it all again. We arrived in Budva at 3:30 p.m. A young bus station employee directed me to the exit and a restaurant. The waitress stowed my luggage in an armoire and suggested I order Balkan food. I had a cabbage stew with thick chunks of bacon, a familiar chopped salad (cucumber, tomatoes and spices in vinaigrette)
I picked up my luggage and asked a young man where I could find a taxi. He looked at the address for my hotel and he said, No need. It is very close. So when a taxi pulled over I told him my destination was very close and showed him the address. He agreed, so I said, no need to bother you, then. He pulled over anyway and loaded my luggage. The street was just across from the station, but it went up, and up, and up. Thank goodness I was sitting in a taxi and not dragging all my luggage up the steep cobblestone street. Vido, the taxi driver, was a good talker. He had two young children and was amazed that I had managed seven. He kept shaking his head; he was agog at the idea. It was fun to chat with him. As we pulled up to the hotel Vido said, This is a five star hotel. It was very nice, with a shared patio and stairs that ran down three or four hills, to the shopping center. I asked to
extend my stay, because I was intrigued with the idea of taking those stairs, but the owner said he was fully booked the next day so I had to find another establishment. First I took a nap. Then, poof! There was no internet. I woke up in the middle of the night and I could get on line, but I was too tired to look for lodging. The next morning, again, there was no internet. I was alarmed and frustrated. I really needed a hotel; I was worried that the manager would tell me to leave. Near tears, I told him I had no hotel. He told me not to worry and led me to a gazebo, with internet. Then he rushed off, returning with a cup of tea for me. He was so nice. He told me to take all the time I needed.
At last I had an address for an Airbnb and called the taxi driver, Vido, from the day before.
