Old cities

---

After a good sleep in my womb-like deep-sea room on board Marco Polo, I had a Balkan breakfast of cold meats and cornflakes at 6am. The early mists were thinning as Croatia drew near, to all but lift when we were close enough to see her trademark orange tiled roofs. Sailing in between the close green-and-grey hills was a lovely experience. Even the previous evening's singers were silenced.

I set off with Dr Jeremy to explore Dubrovnik old town, after checking the bus times to Kotor. I had decided to move on through Europe faster to see if I could use the gained time to see get to Istanbul via Gallipoli. Jeremy haggled with the apparently usual group of accommodation touts for his 13 euro room. The old couple he chose turned out to be extra-friendly. One of the unsuccessful touts said not to go with them as they were crazy, they greeted each other as good friends later in the car park. The room was fully equipped with a balcony that had stunning views over the bay, and a piano. I was starting to think twice about moving on so fast. Doubly so when the host offered us a glass of Brandy. It was 8.15am.

The old town was just perfect, hard to think it had been shelled so mercilessly a few years ago. Enclosed in a seamless wall, which we walked around on to explore, the car-free ancient city was all French mustard-coloured stone, marble and orange tiles. Church towers and domes stuck up everywhere, and the only concessions to modernity were the countless satellite dishes. Not quite sure how they got those through planning permission. Oh, I forgot, this is the Balkans.

Without the city wall on three sides was a perfect teal-coloured sea, beautifully clear and crowned with dozens of boats and a dozen bright kayaks. I must have taken a hundred photos, and felt I could never get enough of those views. I did feel that I had had enough, however, when the blisters on my toes made me realise how walking I had done.

Onto Kotor on the small and modern bus, which passed more gasp-worthy bay views in its two-and-a-half hour journey. The road wound round and round the steep-edged coast, each vista bettering the previous. Every new view showed a different type of boat and at least one swimmer in that dazzling sea. I knew that the bus driver was good at his job, as he was able to stay on the road around those tight bends at high speeds, most of the time taking or making a call on his mobile phone.

The border crossing into Montenegro was quick and efficient, and I was soon dealing with my own accommodation touts in Kotor. I however didn't do as well as Jeremy, but my humble room was quite central in the old town. Similar to old Dubrovnik but, like the rest of Montenegro, less developed, poorer and dirtier. The stray cats of Dubrovnik were there in Kotor too, but in greater number, and joined passively by a couple of sorrowful but seemingly well-fed stray dogs. I kept a good distance as I not received a rabies shot before I left the UK.

I write this from a smart and modern cafe, while the now ceaseless rain drizzles down outside - a great change from all the sunshine I have had. My next challenge is to contact my Albanian friend Erion before I arrive to stay with him this weekend. All communication seems to be banned between Montenegro and Albania, like two brothers who have fallen out and refuse to speak. I wonder what Erion's address is...

---