dinner in montenegro

grass, fool!

So thinking that it would only take five hours to get to Montenegro, we planned on having a nice lunch once we got there.  When we realized this wasn’t the case we thought about getting something at the gas station in Trebinje but then we had to leave in a hurry.  We ended up eating almost the entire giant piece of Bosnian bread (that 2 days in was a bit hard and stale).

Tired and hungry we continued on with me trying to reconcile our google map with the road signs written in Cyrillic using my lonely planet book (a gps would have been nice at this point).  We were doing ok until we got to a juncture and took a right instead of a left.  We realized our mistake when we found ourselves at border control to get back into Bosnia.  

As it seemed out of the question to turn around quickly at a border control, I decided to ask the nice officer with the gun how to get to Kotor.

Me:  [big smile]  Um.  Kotor?

Offier:  [looks at other officers and says something in local language.  Everyone laughs].  No No!

Me:  [big shrug + big smile + points to map]  Kotor?

Officer:  No No. [points to direction we came from] Go.  [puts arms straight out] Grass.  Turn.  [makes turning right motion with hands]

Me:  Um.  Grass?

Officer:  Foo!

Me:  Fool?

Him:  [takes my map and draws something] Foo. Grass!  Grass!

Me: [Looks at drawing]

Him: [Makes pumping motion with hands]

Me: Oh… gas!  Fuel!  At the gas station make a right!

So with the help of the nice officers at border control we finally reached Montenegro.

trebinje

The next morning we got up bright and early to head to Kotor Montenegro.  I had convinced husband to make a stop there instead of going directly to our hotel in Dubrovnik.  According to my google map it would only take us 5 hours. 

 Except the way to Montenegro from Mostar hasn’t benefited from tourist money so it was pretty scenic (read: mountainous and windy) and off the beaten path (the signs were in Cyrillic).

 At about the half way mark I had to pee so we stopped in Trebinje which did not at all have a charming or hospitable vibe.  We stopped at a gas station where I quickly went to the bathroom and left husband to fill up the car.  When I got out I found an unhappy cashier staring down a panicked looking husband.  Apparently none of his debit cards worked and we were cashless.

 I whipped out my master card.  There was uncomfortable laughter as the transaction went through.  Husband handed me the keys of the car went to the bathroom to compose himself.

 As his legs disappeared behind the bathroom door I noticed someone is making a ruckus.  I glanced over and see an angry driver of a car behind ours along with 4 other cars waiting to use the pump.  The cashier came out and signaled for me to move the car but I couldn’t because I don’t drive stick.  So there we were car guy yelling and getting red in the face and me trying to make the cashier understand why I can’t move the car despite the fact that I have the keys on my hands.   All I could think about was how:

 1.      We had Croatian plates

2.      The guy was going to ram us

3.      We didn’t get the extra insurance   

And that is why I went to the bathroom and insisted husband come out.  He did and we high tailed it out of there.

mostar

We arrived at Mostar in the evening and were greeted by a beautiful traditionally decorated hotel/museum and mint tea.  

 

 

Without much time to spare we headed out to explore the city center.

 

As promised the Mostar Bridge was picture perfect with its opaque blue green waters but the rest seemed to be built solely around the bridge to support tourist activities.  Further out (after the cobblestone streets have abruptly stopped) you can find more of what is current Bosnia with its mix of pristine new buildings shuffled with ruins from the recent war.

 

 

After walking around for a bit we stopped for dinner at a “local” place I found in my lonely planet guide where we stuck out like sore thumbs and couldn’t read the menu.  Luckily you could see the food as it was being cooked, so we used the international language of pointing to order.  

 

 

After the waiter left I realized we didn’t have any Bosnian currency, only Croatian Kuna so we called him back.  

 

Me:  Um. Do you take Kuna?

Him:  [Big smile] Yes yes all is good.

Me:  Ok great.   Thanks.  

Him:  [leaves]

 

Then we realized we don’t have enough Kuna.  Called the waiter back.

 

Me:  Um.  Do you take Euros?

Him:  [Big smile] Yes yes all is good.

Me:  Ok great.  Sorry.  Thanks.

Him:  [leaves]

 

Then we realized we have too much in Euros and the thought of getting back a bunch of change in Bosnian currency was not at all appealing since we were leaving Bosnia early the next day. We did however have some change in Euros… but not quite enough.  We called the waiter back.

 

Me:  Um.  Sorry again. 

Him:  Yes?

Me:  Would you mind if, um, we paided half in Kuna and half in Euros?

Him:  [confused look]

Me:  Pay.  Like.  This? [Gather our change together] 

Him:  [Big smile] Yes yes all is good.

Me:  Great thanks.

Him:  Ok?

Me:  Yes.

Him:  Yes?

Me:  Yes

Him:  [still big smile] Ok Ok

 

So not only was the food great but the service excellent.  Gotta love post-war mentality of not sweating the small stuff.  

korcula

When we arrived in Korcula it was pitch black with no gps nor street lights to guide us to the hotel so we basically just followed where everyone else was going and luckily stumbled on to our hotel. 

The next morning we woke up to beautiful weather and explored the island and it's gorgeous landscapes.

 

We found a place by the water for lunch.



 

Stopped by the bakery for some applestrudel like dessert and ate it pic-nic style. 

We decided to try to make the 2pm ferry as we weren't sure how the roads would be on our way to Molstar.  Unfortunately there didn't seem to be any signs towards the ferry and I only had a map which vaguely showed that the ferry was on the east side of the island and lots of trees laid on the west side.  Husband drove around for a while while I "navigated" and thought for sure there was no way we would make it when, all of a sudden, husband made a left turn and we somehow found ourselves in the queue for the ferry.  I looked at the clock: 1:58pm.

 

 

We were on our way to Bosnia (we picked up a giant freesbee looking like piece of bread at the local grocery store which would serve us well... )

 

best pizza ever

So off we were to Korcula where our hotel was knowing that the last car ferry to the island was at 10pm.  Being gps-less and not knowing where anything was, we decided to just drive and let fate determine whether we would visit Split first or whether we would would just head down the coast.  Fate (or rather roadsigns) lead us southbond through the coastal route filled with magnificent views.

 

The drive down was suppose to take about 4 hours but ended up being more like 6 with all the roadwork and windy small country roads once we got to the penisula.  We arrived at the ferry around 8:30pm in time for the 9:00pm ferry.  Famished we bought a pizza and ate on the small beach next to the ferry. 

 

 

It was the best pizza ever (it should be noted that our lunch consisted of a sandwich on the plane and in the car some ketchup/peanut flavored cheeto like croatian snacks, and half a bagette husband had in his bookbag).

haut risque

So for the 5 day long weekend in France husband and I went on a roadtrip around Croatia and Bosnia, the concept being that hotels were booked and we were free to do as we like with the rental as long as it we made it to each hotel at night. The hotels were booked in Korcula, Mostar, and finally Dubrovnik.

We flew into Split and proceeded to get our rental:

Guy: Do you want the GPS?

Husband: No

Me: [in French to husband] Did you check to make sure our GPS actually includes Croatia?

Husband: [in French] Couldn't, out of battery but I'm sure it has Croatia.

Me: [to guy in English] Is there a map in the car?

Guy: Maybe.

Me: ...

Guy: Do you want to get the extra insurance? The insurance you have only covers any value more than 800 euros.

Husband: No.

Husband. [in French to me] It's a scam.

Guy: Ok here are your keys and your reciept which shows that you are responsible should there be any damages to the car up to [pause for affect] 800 euros.

Me: ...

Husband. [in French to me] It's a scam.

We took the keys and paperwork and headed to the parking lot to our rental: A pristine white Corsa. The inspector noted 2 damages. Husband and I proceeded to point out 5 more which turned out actually to be just dirt.

Finally we got in the car and I plugged in the GPS only to find that it did indeed not have Croatia nor Bosnia. I checked the glove compartement and trunk. No map.

And like this we were on our way.