December 9, 2011 - Posted by Erin in Food and wine, Travel, Travels in Europe

Have you heard about Montenegro? For most of us, the name probably rings a Yugoslavian bell. That’s because the miniature nation formed part of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, most recently under the name of “Serbia and Montenegro”. But in 2006, the Montenegrins voted for independence, and since then they’ve been making a name for themselves as a Mediterranean destination worth putting on your radar. Balkan border-hopping like it was our job, my mom and I decided to make it our next stop after visiting Croatia and Bosnia.

I didn’t know what to expect of Montenegro, but knew mountains might kind of be a big deal considering the country’s name literally means “black mountain”. And mountains we found. The nation in fact claims some of the most rugged landscape in all of Europe.

Steep slopes sink into the Bay of Kotor where orange-tiled roofs dot the shores – a warm contrast to the dark blue water, which, the day of our visit, sloshed around fiercely with the powerful winds. Mussel farms made of buoys, bob in all the region’s waters, looking like over-sized multi-colored tictacs….almost good enough to eat, really.

Our first stop brought us to the walled city of Kotor, built by the Republic of Venice during their four centuries of rule (more or less between 1420 and 1797). That wasn’t the area’s only brush with Italian occupation, though. For a couple of years in the 1940s, Kotor (named Catarro until 1918) was even considered an Italian province before the nation became the Socialist Republic of Montenegro as a part of Yugoslavia. Just a brief chapter in the country’s colorful history.

Walls climb up and around the city sandwiched between a steep mountainside and the Bay. The location is prime, but also prone to earthquakes: in 1979, a tremor hit the region, destroying half the town and leaving 100 casualties in its wake. Fortunately for us, the only thing rattling the city walls that day were strong winds (centuries-old cobbled buildings don’t instill in me the same sense of safety as our more earthquake-friendly versions back in SF).

We made a final stop in the beachside town of Budva. Not unlike Kotor, a wall surrounds the old quarters, but here the stony fortress blends into the sea instead of a mountainside. Empty tables line the pebbled beachfront indicating what the city is really known for these days: a killer social scene and some pretty crazy nights. Between the cold weather, and my travel companion (Mom), however, I struggled to visualize a wild Montenegrin night in my near future.

And then there was my beloved baklava. I’d learned the day before, in Bosnia, that the Turkish treat can be found throughout the region: a little treasure left behind by the Ottomans back in the day (and by “the day”, I mean the 16th century). So, in the name of historical research, I made it my duty to hunt down some of that flaky, sugary goodness – you know, to scientifically analyze its evolution over time and territory. The verdict: tasty, but my heart still belongs to some old Turkish dude selling mind-blowing baklava in Istanbul.

Enchanted by Montenegro, we border hopped back to Croatia. Three days and three countries later, our little trip to Dubrovnik had transformed into a Balkan adventure beyond anything we’d expected.

*To see more pictures from my trip to the Balkans, please visit the La Tortuga Viajera Facebook page.

2 comments

2 Responses to “Balkan border hopping to Montenegro”

  1. Cassandra Says:

    I first heard about Montenegro when I learned that a fellow language-school classmate hailed from the small country. He lives inland, in a town called Podgorica, but I loved vicariously peeking into Kotor and Budva through your pictures. It looks like a beautiful place with lots of coastline and baklava to explore!

  2. Erin Says:

    We were supposed to go to Podgorica but didn’t make it because of some wildfire that blocked off the road – go figure! I definitely wouldn’t mind returning to the region during the summer, mostly for more baklava.

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