The silver lining to going around in a circle to get back to Montenegro was meeting Monique on the bus that I hadn’t intended to take. We bonded when she donated 50 cents for me to use the toilet (hole in the ground) at good old Podgorica bus station as I didn’t have any money left, having traded the last of my Albanian Lek with the bus driver in order to purchase the ticket for the next leg of the journey. Monique also shouted me a coffee as we waited for our second bus which would take me to the city of Bar and her to Ulcinj (that town that we had been less than 45 mins away from the same morning). It always amazes me that when you’re travelling it’s perfectly acceptable to swap numbers with a stranger and invite them to hang out the next day, but if you did that in the UK you’d probably get a very different reaction.
Bus buddiesInteresting cargo on the road
My final stop in Montenegro was ‘The Grove’, the only accommodation I had booked before leaving the UK as I had a feeling it would be my kind of place. The Grove is a beautiful converted olive mill nestled between the mountains outside of Stari Bar (the old town of Bar). After the usual half hour walking around in the heat with my bags looking for an ATM I couldn’t be bothered to wait two hours for the local bus nor haggle with the taxi drivers so I paid the rip-off price of €10 to get straight out of main Bar (there’s nothing really to see there) and up to the village.
The grounds of The Grove
The Grove has to be one of the most stunningly unique places I’ve had the pleasure of staying in. Incredibly spacious with a huge shared kitchen and a two storey open lounge area, the selling point (and it was actually up for sale when I visited!) has to be the massive garden with its own spring (pure drinking water), firepit and pizza oven. Add a few cats and chickens wandering around as well as a beer fridge operating on a trust system and you’ve got an instantly sociable setting.
Obligatory hammock shot
The current owners Chris and Zoe also go out of their way to make it a friendly place, organising hikes to waterfalls and getting the fire going at night. This was the perfect base for 5 nights of doing nothing.
Group singalong by the fireMountain setting
The next day instead of doing nothing I jumped back on the bus to meet new friend Monique in the smaller coastal town of Ulcinj. Beach days are better with friends and a female friend means you can visit Ladies Beach… despite the seedy looking signs this is not the Montenegro Stringfellows, it is the nicest, most comfortable beach setting that I experienced in Montenegro. The key feature of Ladies Beach is that no men are allowed – sorry guys! Two bouncer types sitting at the entrance were presumably making sure only people who looked like women entered. There are even green sheets hanging from the trees that blend in with the forest to make sure there are no prying eyes. Down the stairs awaits a gorgeous secluded cove with turquoise, sulphur water and caves to explore, sunbeds dotted around the rocks with a €4 price tag and a restaurant with a waitress who will bring huge plates of watermelon to your spot. I’m not sure this could get any better, with women of all ages and ethnicities feeling comfortable to wear swimsuits or nothing at all.
Ladies Beach – not actually a strip clubModesty protection
Ulcinj itself has its fair share of souvenir shops but this is offset by a lovely fortress, as is usual in Montenegro. There is a distinctly romantic theme to the sunset bars which we enjoyed with a cocktail and a wander through the cobbled streets until I had missed the last bus back. Apparently once it gets to 9pm the taxi companies have closed, but luckily Monique’s hotel was run by two amusing brothers in their 60s, one of whom disappeared into the night and eventually came back with a man prepared to drive me home, who was actually an economics graduate who lost his job in banking in the pandemic and now helps his father driving taxis.
Ulcinj fort at sunsetSound on for romantic tunes‘Money Heist’ themed bar in Ulcinj – no idea why
Stari Bar is the old town of Bar – Stari meaning old – and has my favourite fortress so far. It costs just €2 to enter and is deceptively huge. Monique is the Queen of Instagram photography i.e. she takes sneaky shots when you genuinely are unaware so I ended up with what are likely to be the most flattering photos I’ll get for some time.
Within the fortress walls
The fortress is well worth a visit, there is the remains of the tower to climb, the church and ruins of the palace, all with amazing mountain views of course.
Mosaic in the fortress
The thing about staying somewhere special like The Grove is that it tends to attract like minded people. There were always people to hike to a rock pool with, or share a home cooked dinner in the evening.
Naturally we had to climb down for a dip A day in Montenegro is not complete if you don’t swim under a waterfallHiking expedition
And that concludes Montenegro for me, having backtracked through the country twice I have seen all I need to and feel I accidentally saved the best until last. I’m leaving for Serbia just as the UK puts Montenegro on the dreaded ‘red list’ and just when tourism was picking up, as are lots of other visitors who funnily enough would prefer to spend two weeks in the neighbouring countries and enjoy the September sunshine rather than give a couple of thousand quid to the UK government in a ‘quarantine hotel’…
Albania wasn’t even on my radar until fellow backpackers I met in Montenegro were telling me that the neighbouring country was well worth a visit. At the end of my first day in the capital, Tirana, I could see why.
Transport from Sarajevo to Podgorica
The bus journey here from Sarajevo through Montenegro was an unexpected highlight – a cramped looking minibus was surprisingly comfortable as it transported us through the mountains, in and out of mini tunnels and on the edge of the Tara Canyon which got some whoops from the children on board. I had to spend an uneventful night enroute in Montenegro’s capital, Podgorica. It is known as the ‘most boring capital city in Europe’ but I was still expecting to find somewhere open for food. Pasta and a can of beer in the hostel kitchen was as good as it got (the miserable supermarket checkout lady wouldn’t let me purchase a bottle, which I only found out later was because you’re supposed to return the empty for recycling).
Border control Podgerica – don’t bother
Back on another bus the next day and there was no searching of bags at the Montenegro / Albania border crossing – we didn’t even step off the bus, instead the driver simply collected our passports and handed them back to us nicely stamped into the country. When the slightly gangster looking young man (Albanian mafia featured in the movie Taken apparently) sitting next to me shared his pack of biscuits I got my first taste of Albanian hospitality towards visitors to their country.
Olives on sale at the service stop…… Along with some more interesting itemsVideo of the bus journey – worth it just for the views
Tirana is a really lively city with plenty of space, both urban and green. I was pleased to find a huge park to wander around and especially pleased to find a ‘cooling station’, like an open doorway that sprays cool air as you pass through.
Tirana opera house
I stayed at the gorgeous Garden Hostel which includes a breakfast buffet in the garden and a very warm welcome from the brother and sister team. I also got to check out the bunker that is under their house, with room for over 80 people (each seat has a number). Bunkers are a common sight in Tirana – by 1983 there were 173,371 bunkers in Albania, built in the 1960s and 1970s during Enver Hoxha’s Stalinist rule. This was known as bunkerisation.
Bunker under my guesthouse Communist propoganda on the walls
The first thing I noticed in Albania is that almost every single car is either a BMW or Mercedes, and a battered up old car at that. On every corner is a car flashing it’s German logo looking like it’s weathered a fair few accidents.
With just one night here, I wasted no time in joining an evening walking tour of the city with a very entertaining guide. He managed the tricky task of showing us his hometown, presenting a crash course in the history of communismn in Albania and still keeping it fun. Tip-based tours like this are usually a great way to meet other solo travellers as most of the hostels promote them.
I hadn’t appreciated the level of communism in Albania, which did not end until 1992. According to our guide, Albania thought North Korea was ‘not communist enough’. He urged us to imagine suddenly being exposed to banks, bananas and other aspects of life we consider essential – his grandfather would ask for a ‘red banana’ when what he meant was a Coca-Cola.
The expanse of Skanderbeg Square, named after national hero Gjergj Kastrioti Skënderbeu who led the rebellion against the Ottoman empire, appears in stark contrast to the communist-era blocks of flats dotted around.
I’m including a lot of photos of Tirana because of the sheer variety of buildings I saw – including religious ones, in a country that has a population of 80% Muslim on paper and also claims Mother Teresa as their own. Though apparently so does North Macedonia.
A stark reminder of previous times is a piece of the Berlin wall on display next to the entrance of yet another city bunker.
On that note, Tirana has maybe the most unique museum I’ve ever been to – “Bunk Art 1” (a smaller “Bunk Art 2” can be found in the city centre but it’s worth the half hour bus ride out to the original – just ask around for the bus stop and the driver will tell you when to get off).
Mother Teresa
Note that this is by no means an art gallery – rather it is a huge underground maze including 106 rooms and an auditorium. There are communication rooms where you can pick up a telephone and listen to the voice of Hoxha himself, fully furnished bedrooms and bathrooms. Fairly creepy when you seem to be the only visitor! This was all built in preparation for a war that never happened and as such was never used, rather they were abandoned in 1992 with the fall of communism.
The decontamination room reminded me of Lost – turn the sound on
A helpful sign states that you are encouraged to remain calm and stay where you are in case of a powercut – it seemed very unlikely anybody would remain calm if you happened to be in one of the rooms with the life-sized gasmask wearing pretend soldiers and fake snow on the ground.
Entrance to Bunk Art 1Tunnel leading to the bunker complex Enver Hoxha’s living quarters Original electronic equipment Auditorium inside the bunker
There is an enormous amount of information in this place, room upon room of photographs and letters, from relations with Italy, to the start of communism, the rescue of an American medical flight through to UK involvement. It was far too much to me to take in – once more I was reminded how little I know about this part of European history.
Original ‘Communist propoganda’ on display in the bunkers
Back up on ground level, Tirana is an opportunity to eat at vegetarian restaurants again, even a mocha with soy milk is available. I wandered around at night taking in the atmosphere but too tired to join a hostel bar crawl.
Tirana at night
Next stop on the backpacker trail in Albania is Berat. Taking yet another bus here was an experience in itself – there are two ‘bus stations’ in Tirana, one serving routes north and south and one serving east and west – it’s important to get the right one. I use inverted commas because ‘bus station’ is a stretch – bus stations in Albania are really carparks filled with buses of varying states of decay. As soon as you arrive, a group of men will shout various city names at you. This is not a scam, it’s how you find your bus as English is not widely spoken and there is no ticket office. I hopped on just as the Berat bus was departing – the lack of following schedules actually means you’re less likely to miss your bus as the driver tries to wait until all seats are filled.
The UNESCO Heritage Site of Berat, often referred to as the city of 1000 windows, dates back to the 4th century. Berat could be visited in a day trip from Tirana but it’s lovely at night when the streets are full of people drinking coffee and eating dessert, and old men playing chess occupy the benches. Apparently if you want to find anyone in Berat, just come to the main street after dusk.
Old streets leading to hostel Evening in Berat
Berat’s main attraction is the fortress on top of the hill, which has a functional town inside of it with houses, shops and restaurants. The walk up is steep in the 35 degree Celsius August heat (even the first bit of rain I’ve seen in 3 weeks didn’t cool the temperature down) but the views are worth it.
View from the fort over the Gorica area
I went in the slightly odd National Ethnographic Museum of Berat which is basically a house where I had no real clue what I was looking at, but mostly enjoying wandering along the river in the afternoon and stopping for coffee or food.
Figs picked from the garden
I stayed at the Berat Backpackers, a choice made mostly due to the Lonely Planet write up and it’s beautiful setting inside the Gorica area (across the bridge and south of the river Osumi) with a large garden to enjoy breakfast and a beer from the well stocked fridge.
Berat Backpackers
The atmosphere didn’t quite live up to the reviews possibly because of change in ownership – this was a rare time where I was grateful when some other Brits turned up and quite literally brought the party in the form of three 18 year olds – India, Millie (from Budleigh Salterton – she agreed that naturist beach is definitely dodgy) and Millie’s boyfriend, who made me laugh like only 18 year olds can, and Tom who brought a plastic water bottle full of the local liquor ‘rakia’, otherwise known as pure fire, made by an old woman who ripped him off on the street. With a lack of other backpackers able or willing to speak English, a quiet Friday night quickly turned into Brits on Tour as we found the one place that had a pool table. I was slightly concerned we were now in Albania mafia territory and it was unclear how much/ what it was going to cost, but Tom assured me the locals who were by now clearly waiting for us to leave, were ‘just the lads’.
Let’s just say we were not popular in the hostel the next morning (I blame the Czechs who certainly knew how to carry the party on) but luckily I was moving south for some beach time.
What happens in Albania stays in Albania
With only a week here, I wanted to see the Albanian Riviera and chose the town of Vlorë predominantly because of the direct bus route. First hurdle – no taxis so the hostel owner’s financé drove me to the bus station / parking lot. Second hurdle – despite what the timetable said there were no buses running in that direction today, and no explanation as to why not. Having already booked the next few nights accommodation and on a schedule for once, I had no choice but to pay the fiancé to drive me the hour and a half all the way to the coast. I spotted some other tourists also trying to get to Vlorë and suggested we share the ride but they weren’t interested, expressing horror at the price. What cheapskates, I thought as I agreed to pay the 7000 lek myself (around €55). It was only when we were on the way that I realised I had done my old trick of confusing the currency and quoted them 70,000 lek, over five HUNDRED euros. No wonder they weren’t keen.
When we eventually got to Vlore, after stopping to help two German girls change a flat tyre, we couldn’t find my accommodation despite my lovely driver making several phone calls and looking so hard at Google maps that he backed into a parked car (which he totally ignored). If he was regretting taking me to the bus station he didn’t show it, refusing to accept even take a tiny tip.
Vlorë beach front
My accommodation in Vlorë was the ‘Berti Apartments’, run by the sweetest old couple who did not speak a word of English other than ‘breakfast?’ – the old woman woke me up at 7am by knocking on my window to bring breakfast on a cute little tray to the table outside my room. It was only missing the coffee – with no instructions I couldn’t light the gas to make my own nor communicate this to my hosts. Cue comedic gesturing until the old man called a younger man for me to explain over the phone, who then came around two minutes later so we could all go to my room to teach me that the gas has to be turned on from the mains in order to work.
Vlorë is a beach holiday destination – lovely sandy beach and the warmest sea at the price of a €4 sunbed for the day. Wide palmtree lined streets full of cafes and restaurants turn into thumping clubs in the evening when the promenades are full of people, mostly holidaymakers from the surrounding countries. Still not quite the secluded coves for early morning swims I was looking for but beautiful none the less and with the bonus of very friendly people; as much I as liked Montenegro it is hard not to notice that people don’t really smile.
All too quickly my week in Albania came to an end as I had booked some accommodation back in the south of Montenegro, just across the border from the city of Shkodër, so I headed there for the night. There isn’t much to do there unless you’re going further north to hike in the Albanian Alps or spend time on the lake, neither of which I had time for but I did enjoy the photographic museum which I had all to myself. It contains some stunning old photographs of Albanian life, particularly the random ones of people laughing and joking with no information to explain the who / what / when.
I wasn’t that surprised when once more the bus did not materialise, despite a) my having double checked in advance with two different hostels that it existed and b) this bus was my sole reason for going to Shkodër in the first place as was less than hour away from my final destination. The journey is part of the experience as they say so I had to go almost full circle in the opposite direction, back through my favourite city Podgerica, for a final five nights in Montenegro before heading north to Serbia…
When you’re standing on the very spot that started World War One you know this will need a longer and more serious blog post than usual. Welcome to country number three on my Balkans Tour – Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Bosnia and Herzegovina
Let’s start with the journey. I boarded a supposedly six hour bus in Budva, Montenegro with destination Mostar. I was enjoying the view along the Adriatic coast from my window seat when I overheard somebody ask the driver about a toilet stop, to which he replied ‘toilets in Dubrovnik’. That would be Dubrovnik, Croatia – obviously I should have read the timetable more carefully. This bus was taking the indirect route with not one but four border crossings to contend with – Montenegro -> Croatia -> Bosnia -> Croatia-> Bosnia due to the division of land in this area.
Buna River, Herzegovina
We hit a complete standstill at the first Croatian checkpoint until our driver had enough and floored it for what felt like a good few miles on the wrong side of the road, to audible gasps from the passengers. It turned out he hadn’t lost his mind – the ticket collector had run ahead and was now standing in the middle of the road stopping the traffic until we cut everyone else up and forced our way back in at the front of the queue.
The Montenegro / Croatia land border is an EU entry point and the reason for the delay was the border police on steroids who were ripping through every single item of every single person’s luggage, including everyone on our bus as we were ordered off. I could see my heart pounding as an officer with a gun pulled out more and more packs of my antihistamine tablets, suspicious as to why I had so many (even I wasn’t sure anymore, probably the Boots 3 for 2 offers) and clearly baffled as to how anyone could be that allergic to anything. At this point I’m regretting a) answering NO when asked ‘do you have any medication?’ as evidently I am carrying a small pharmacy, and b) emptying two months worth of multi vitamins into a plastic bag shoved into a shoe to save on space. I’m also remembering a taxi driver telling me that the Croatian police like to issue fines for any medication manufacturered outside of Croatia. We did actually have a laugh when he couldn’t do my bag back up again – for some reason I told him he needs to get better at packing. He agreed he needed more training in that department and wished me a safe trip.
Mostar by night
Back on the bus and wishing I could flush half my bag down the toilet before the next border check, the silver lining was getting to see the sunset over that unexpected detour to Dubrovnik as I realised that six hours was long gone. By the time I arrived in Mostar it was 11pm and with no taxis in sight I had to walk to my hostel, Taso’s Place, which actually felt an awful lot safer than London with plenty of people still out and about.
Bullet holes remain in many buildings throughout Mostar
The next morning, off on a day trip that Taso organised for me with a few others, I was amazed by how beautiful Herzegovina is. All blue rivers and green fig trees and purple grape vines. The trip started with my second breakfast of the day featuring fried Uštipci dough balls, grilled vegetables and very good coffee while getting to know the others. Our guide had an incredible knowledge of UK politics and it seems most of the world. Whilst my education in Herzegovina was sorely lacking, mostly limited to their entries in the Eurovision Song Contest.
Fried breadMostar’s damaged buildings, not safe for entry
Mostar as a city has an incredibly complex history interwoven with the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires. Bosnia and Herzegovina as a country has sadly become synonymous with a warzone. Here I will simply give some of the information that I managed to take in from speaking to local guides, fact checked on Wikipedia as best I can do with limited Internet access!
I always try to take the free (tip based) walking tours in the major cities that I visit as this gives you the opportunity to ask any questions you like – nothing was off limits. Highly recommended is Shiva’s guided tour of Mostar, which lasts as long as it lasts. You also get his business card which apparently acts as a ‘get out of jail free’ card.
The Old Bridge, reconstructed in 2004. Diver casually sitting up top.
Mostar is named after it’s Ottoman centre piece, the Stari Most bridge (Old Bridge) rising over the river Neretva. Originally built in the 16th century, it’s destruction in 1993 has become symbolic of the war in Mostar and the division of community that followed.
At the end of a day sightseeing around the area, our guide bought us coffees and we sat in the sunshine for a whiteboard history lesson.
After independence from Yugoslavia in 1992, Mostar was under siege for 3 years during the Bosnian War which killed over 100,000 people across the country and resulted in the genocide of over 8000 Bosnian Muslims in Srebrenica. The people I spoke to were clear that rather than a ‘civil war’, this was ethnic cleansing.
It’s important to note that the 1991 census records a population made up of 29% Croats, 34% Muslims, 19% Serbs and the remaining 18% Yugoslavs / other. At that point in time around a third of all marriages in Mostar were mixed, with the different ethnic and religious communities spread evenly throughout the city. This means that when forced to fight, you would likely be taking sides against your spouse’s family or your neighbours and friends.
Eerily almost every tombstone in this Mostar graveyard was dated 1993Sniper tower in Mostar where the instruction was ‘shoot anything that moves’
The 90s are not that long ago – most people here have direct experience of the war. My first tour guide’s father was sent to a concentration camp and the second believes life today is generally worse than under Tito’s Yugoslavia with low wages and high unemployment. The division can still be seen today – East Mostar is known as the Muslim side with Catholic Croats on the West. There are separate schools (one mixed school now exists but has separate lessons), two fire brigades, two bus stations, two football teams… There are even three Presidents who rotate as Chairperson every eight months: one Bosniak, one Serb, and one Croat, making for an administrative nightmare.
Diving platform
On a lighter note the local heroes are the Mostonian bridge divers, who continue the tradition of diving into the river as a right of passage. I was passing by as local guys were drumming up tips and teasing the gathering crowd for a quite a while before jumping so gracefully it appeared like slow motion: see video below.
1981 is graffitied all over Mostar – the birth of the Red Army football team!Mostar diving club where you can register for a try out on a smaller platform if you so wish.
I also learned where the term ‘whirl like a Dervish’ actually comes from at the 1520 era monastery where the Sufi Muslims practice rituals that involve whirling. It felt very calming with the rooms being built right into the mountain and directly on the water. As the sign on the wall said ‘we are all made from water’. Visiting inside meant covering heads and bodies – one of our group did mistake me for a Muslim woman.
Kravice waterfalls – no day trip is complete without a waterfall swim.
There was also an opportunity to sample the most delicious figs I’ve ever tasted and climb free reign over the castle in Počitelj. The lovely woman selling her fruit knows full well that she only needs to convince one person to taste it and the whole group will soon be buying the fresh pomegranate juice mixed with lemon and sugar.
Drug dealer in PočiteljTop of the castle
Sarajevo was my next stop, only a two hour train ride through the mountains. I was not expecting such a visible Turkish influence, a throwback to the Ottoman era ofcourse. It’s also home to the place where the Arch Duke of Austria, Franz Ferdinand (not just a band name) was assassinated, widely considered the trigger for the first World War – a fact I was unaware of. This is an example of why I feel travelling is so important rather than relying on barely listened to school history lessons about Henry 8th’s wives. At least in my case anyway.
Mostar train station
At night the old town of Sarajevo is buzzing with people, mostly sipping Bosnian coffee (which has to be savoured not rushed, and if you take it with sugar you’re supposed to put the sugar cube on your tongue then drink the coffee) and eating baklava or other similar sweet desserts. It’s a really nice place to spend an evening people watching if you can find a free seat.
Bosnian coffee Sarajevo old town
The city today prides itself today on the meeting of different cultures and religions, having a mosque, Catholic church, Orthodox church and synagogue all within the same neighborhood. It is also home to the second largest Jewish cemetery in Europe, partly due to the large number of Jewish refugees from Spain who settled here.
Sarajevo East meets West Opportunity to meet the PopeOne of the Sarajevo roses
A stark reminder of the war are the Sarajevo Roses that can found scattered around the city. These are concrete scars from mortar explosions, coloured in red to mark spots where at least 3 people were killed.
The start of WW1
When you want to escape the city, a cable car takes you up to the Trebević mountain for scenic views and the slightly creepy abandoned Bobsleigh track built for the 1984 Olympics. Tourists have yet to return to this country in their pre-covid levels, meaning I had a cable car to myself.
Abandoned bobsleigh track One of the city’s water fountains – rumour has it if you drink from here you will fall in love and return
I only spent 4 days in Bosnia and Herzegovina, added to my route as an afterthought on the recommendation of other travellers, and barely scratched the surface of the history, culture and landscapes – but the incredibly friendly people in the small number of places I did visit have taught me more than I can possibly write in this short space of time and words. Put this country on your bucket list and see for yourself!
After one week in the luxury of the Mahakala Yoga Retreat I was itching to get moving, starting with the UNESCO World Heritage site of Kotor just an hour up the coast with it’s medieval old town and views over the bay.
My current style of travel is to book private rooms in hostels, giving me my own space but keeping the backpacker vibe. I was astounded when the Old Town Hostel staff led me out of the building and around a few corners to the ‘Palazzo Drusko’, who it turns out they have an agreement with if they are full. And what an upgrade! The attic level ‘Artists Room’ of the 600 year old stone house formerly owned by Montenegrin nobility, may just be the creepiest and yet best room I have ever stayed in, with Balkan music playing from an old radio and 150 year old furniture and antiques / paintings / crochets adorning the walls. See video below – turn the sound on! Although I was relieved to be able to turn it off at bedtime.
My palace room was located right in the middle of the Old Town, a maze of cobbled streets and churches and squares – the same churches I would end up passing multiple times as I wandered around in circles all evening.
Spot the cat
Waiting to greet me on every corner were the Cats of Kotor who have been here for over a hundred years. They even have their own museum. I stumbled upon a shop selling cat themed souvenirs and was delighted to find out this was THE shop run by the famous Cat Lady of Kotor who cares for many of them.
I really liked the atmosphere in Kotor. It may be a little touristy in the old town but it didn’t cross the line into tacky and never got too busy to enjoy.
One of the recommended activities is to climb up to the ruins of the 9th century Fortress built into the Lovcen Mountains. A few people had told me to avoid the 1350 steps up by taking an alternative route that bypasses the €8 entry fee and involves climbing through a window.
The fortress looks like a long way up…
I have no problem paying the entrance fee, I am a visiting tourist after all, but couldn’t resist the climbing through a window bit. The path starts to the right of the Resto Bar Taraca restaurant (great for veggie food and a favourite of everyone I met!) and it’s best to go as early as possible, I was on the way up by 7am to beat the heat.
Up the ladder and through the window View from the other side
It’s about a 30 minute walk uphill before you pass a derelict looking church (circa 1518) where some helpful red arrows painted on the rocks confirm the way. The most fun part was climbing up the ladder and through the famous window, which is confusingly accompanied by both a ‘no trespassing’ sign and a helpful red dot. Once you’re through, you can climb all over the fortress to your heart’s content – health and safety isn’t an issue here.
Mind the Gap
I was puzzled by the face masks tied to the bridge and still haven’t found out why they are there. A bonus of being up there early is you get to feel smug as the hoards of people start to arrive huffing and puffing their way up the stairs while you stroll down having just got the best photos as the sunlight hits the bay.
The tiny town of Perast is also worth a visit, reachable by either a bus or my choice, the boat trip for €15 which also stops at the even tinier man made island of Our Lady of the Rocks with it’s interesting origin. Legend has it that a fisherman shipwrecked nearby found an image of the Madonna and Christ on a rock in 1452, prompting the building of the church from stones transported from Perast and pieces of sunken ships. The custom of throwing stones into the sea in order to maintain the island remains as the Fasinada festival every 22nd of July.
Our Lady of the Rocks
The centre piece of the museum on the island is the small tapestry which is partly comprised of actual woven hair. The woman who crafted it apparently spent 25 years working away whilst her husband was at sea, eventually going blind and using her own hair in some parts – I wasn’t actually able to tell the difference but maybe it’s visible from the photo below…
Where’s the Hair?View from the church
Montenegro means Black Mountain so it’s necessary to see some mountains. To the north is the Durmitor National Park and the Black Lake. This would be best visited by car with an overnight stop but without my own wheels I took a lonnngggg day trip (11 hours!). But two hours of driving actually flies by when the scenery looks like this and you have fellow backpackers to chat to.
First stop was the Tara bridge with a very sedate zipline in my opinion. €20 for 50 seconds of flying seemed like quite a lot but as our guide pointed out it’s actually 56 seconds and that extra 6 makes all the difference! Naturally I had to do it along with Caroline from Ireland. We bought the photos that I did not know were being taken and as she put it ‘you had your game face on’ – clearly I was not happy she had overtaken me during those crucial six seconds.
The race is on
A sad sight was the wild fires that are raging all over this part of Europe at the moment. As it got dark we could see the orange flames in the distance and more scarily cars ahead were stopping to put out flames by the roadside with buckets of mud. Even sadder to learn that some of these fires are being started deliberately according to drone footage, with the perpetrators not even kids but in their 30s and 40s.
Local liquor for sale amongst the smoke
The smoke cleared by the time we reached the Black Lake, which is beautifully clear up close and perfect for swimming.
Accidental Insta pose
Last but not least was the Ostrog Monastery, built almost vertically into the mountain. This does not deter the pilgrims who walk the 3km up barefoot. Due to a quick toilet stop I missed the first part of our guide’s introductions, but got the gist that it is very important you DO NOT LAUGH when entering the cave chamber where the body of Vasilije, a Bishop of Herzegovina, lies in rest. Also you may kiss the priest’s hand if you wish to do so (no offence caused if not). Obviously this made me laugh to the point where our guide refused to catch my eye for the entire visit.
Ostrog Monastery
It was only when I got into the cave and saw a large, living priest standing next to the coffin with his hand outstretched I realised it’s HIS hand you should kiss, not the presumably mummified one. I forgot the rest of the protocol in a panic and turned on my heel to leave without kissing anyone. Our guide confessed afterwards he had made that mistake when he was a teenager and he still can’t face going back into that cave.
Mosaics in the monastery
Kissing priests aside, Montenegro seems to be a hub for solo female travellers. After swapping travel stories over dinner I had been convinced to add as many countries to my itinerary as possible within the next 7 weeks.
My perfect breakfast – fried bread View over Bay of Kotor
My final stop in Montenegro was Budva. Various people had told me it’s a big city and lacks the charm of Kotor but I had to see for myself. Needless to say they were right. I soon cancelled my third night when I experienced the heaving crowds in the old town, back to back sunbeds on the overcrowded beaches and Russian women dressed to the nines on their way to the thumping night clubs. All this amidst the stifling heat of near 40 degrees centigrade. Maybe if you’re on the beach with the €150 entry fee (to be fair it includes champagne!) or the owner of one of the super yachts you might enjoy it more. Budva is definitely where the money is.
Cheapskates
Instead of the bars with rumoured £1k rounds of drinks, us cheap backpackers grabbed some two euro bottles of wine from the supermarket and a few miniature bottles of Rakia, the local liquor. Made from various fruit, it looks and smells a lot better than it tastes at 40%, especially when drinking it from an expresso cup.
Budva by night
Budva at least gave me the time to plan the next part of my trip and I found myself booking a bus ticket to that well known holiday hotspot, Bosnia and Herzegovina…
My friends and I are deep in conversation on a pebbly beach in a beautiful, secluded cove. Nothing particularly unusual about that given that we are in Montenegro, except we each met just a few days ago, we are all stark naked and a man has just informed Keith, the only male in our group, that he ‘likes big sausage’. “Good Lord Sweet Jesus” is American Keith’s response as he declines to go around the corner into the cave. Today the aging wrinklies from Devon have been replaced with beer drinking, young, buff and bronzed Montenegrin men and the women in our group are in hysterics in a ‘now you know how we feel’ manner as we realise they were not in fact checking us out. It seems I’ve found the Hampstead Heath of Buljarica.
Torquoise waters
To give some context on the above experience, I’ve signed up for a week at the Mahakala Yoga Retreat near Petrovac where getting naked seems to be the name of the game (disclaimer; this is probably not actually part of the official program). The relief of being with others again after the last year or so of lockdown restrictions is immediate – in the stunning villa that fifteen of us are calling home for the next seven nights, there are no masks, no social distancing and hugs are very welcome 🙏.
Nothing goes unseen
I may have raved about the water in the UK but this is on another level. My water shoes have come in very handy with the stony beaches particularly when exiting the ocean – the only problem with the naked swimming is how to get out of the water gracefully, i.e. without crawling over the rocks Gollum style.
Dinner time
Mahakala includes daily yoga, some kind of workshop, no alcohol, two meals a day and a ‘digital detox’ which I had hoped would mean a leaving with a flat stomach and calm serenity. What it actually means is binge eating twice your body weight at said mealtimes, daily naps as you can’t move after stuffing your face and never being able to Google something when you actually need to. It would probably be better to visit not in the August heatwave as it is shall we say challenging to exercise in almost 40 degrees Celsius.
Journalling session
This retreat is an opportunity to try different styles of yoga, such as a ‘Yoga meets dance’ class which I knew from the off would be slightly weird, as are most of the afternoon workshops (but in a good way!). “And now slap someone else in the room!” shouts Guilia, our teacher, as we all leap around the room bitch slapping each other and shrieking with laughter. There is no point in going into these things half heartedly – if you sign up for seven days in this type of place you might as well go all in. That includes writhing around like an animal on your mat (one person actually moo’ed like a cow).
The food when it is provided is incredible, both in taste and presentation. At 09.30 and 17.00 the bell rings and we all line up to learn about the ingredients and nutritional content before loading our plates like this is the last supper.
Figs are free, just pick them from the tree Night time swim, clothing optional Our Yoga Shala, where the magic happensEnjoying the downtime
The yoga session I enjoyed the most was a sunrise practice (a few degrees cooler!) down at the specially constructed platform on the beach, followed by an early morning swim. I had already gone into the water in an effort to avoid the wasps when I noticed the rest of the group making their way in minus their swimsuits, every single one of them (did I mention the water is crystal clear?). In for a penny in for a pound as they say – I had to agree it was a very freeing experience to share together.
Sunrise yoga Sunrise swim
The schedule includes down time, which is filled by lazing in hammocks, using the roof top Jacuzzi (if the natural filtration system doesn’t send you running for a UTI test), outdoor baths filled with flowers (best bath of my life!) or onsite massages, which were amazing although none of us were ever quite sure if the large, middle aged Montenegrin massuese was the same man as the one who picked us up from the airport, or the one who drove us to the beach, or if they were in fact three different people.
Rooftop hottub Bath with a mountain view
After almost a week of sneakily enjoying contraband coffee in my room, a few of us cracked on the final day when we left the sanctum of the villa for the beach and someone (naming no names) bought beer and chips – neither of which has ever tasted so good. It almost took away the sting of the €25 cost of using the sun loungers.
The class of August 2021
On the final night there was an emotional closing ceremony with quite a few tears shed as the group came together to sing and play instruments along to some haunting tunes around the fire. It’s a testament to our three instructors Guilia, David and Klaude that relative strangers felt comfortable sharing sometimes deeply personal experiences safe in the knowledge there would be no judgement. Asking us to end our sentence with “Aho!” which would be echoed by the group was challenging as I really struggled not to respond with “knowing me knowing you, Aha!” Alan Partridge style instead.
Our leaders
For me, I came here believing I needed time alone, when perhaps actually I needed to connect with like minded people. And despite some of the more ‘out there’ elements of the week (still not a fan of three minutes ‘eye gazing’) that was certainly achieved 🙏.
I expected rain, midges and to be beaten up in Glasgow city centre. Instead I got sunshine, no insects in sight and incredibly friendly people who ask for my ‘wee name’. Plus some of the most stunning scenery I’ve seen on this island. I’ve even come around to the Scottish accent and have a new favourite singer, Gary Cinnamon, after hearing a few of his tunes performed by the Young Scottish Singer of the Year busking by Loch Lomond. Many a true word in lyrics like ‘it could be a canter, if you’re just a wee bit less of a wanker‘.
Top or bottom?
Arriving in Glasgow, in an effort to economise I booked into the Euro Hostel – at £25 a night it’s bunk bed style but I’ve got the room to myself and even an “ensuite”. It’s clean,the staff are welcoming and nobody tried to get into my room at midnight like they were about to do in Edinburgh…
View from Glasgow’s necropolis
I walked around for several hours trying not to look at anyone the wrong way given Glasgow’s reputation on a Friday night, but only saw a few fights in the street (mostly between women I would not want to get on the wrong side of). Another surprise was the abundance of amazing vegan food such as the extremely popular Glasvegan and in particular the Scottish breakfasts – I will be leaving a stone heavier.
Veggie breakfast Scottish style I especially liked the traffic cone part of this statue
Despite liking the feel of Glasgow, one day in the city proved enough so I took the train to Balloch, gateway to Loch Lomond. I was actually a bit underwhelmed by the Loch and the touristy nature (Sea World anyone?!) of this area but am aware I didn’t venture past the visitors centre.
Beautiful Inverness centre
Budget mode in full swing, I took a surprisingly comfortable bus ride up to the start of the Highlands where the bus driver said I could sit anywhere as long as it wasn’t on anyone’s lap. Set on the banks of the River Ness, I knew immediately I would love Inverness.
River Ness
On a recommendation from the waitress at the old movie themed Rendezvous cafe, playing Led Zeppelin and serving huge portions of toasted sandwiches and the best coffee so far, I dropped off my bag and went straight out to explore the ‘islands’. This is a beautiful woodland walk along the fast flowing river with several white bridges connecting the inlets. Some mansions were hiding behind the trees, one of which was apparently almost home to Johnny Depp.
Still being woken at 5am by my friends
I love a good day trip so booked onto a ‘Rabbies’ tour to Loch Ness. I cannot recommend this highly enough if you are travelling without a car, plus you get an entertaining guide for an educational experience. Our guide Paul was particularly interesting, especially when he casually asked me ‘what would you say if I told you I’m Britain’s second bigger weight loss star? I’m famous,you can Google me!’… I did – he didn’t mention that he actually hit the tabloids with the headline ’50 stone man fears he may crush wife during sex’.
Scenic stop enroute to Loch Ness
The best thing I’ve learned so far on this trip has to be who Mr Crowley, star of my favourite Ozzy Osborne song, actually was. We drove past Alastair Crowley, black magic extraordinaire’s house, which was owned for several years by Jimmy Page and regularly frequented by Ozzy and the Black Sabbath guys. The link between the occult and heavy metal music is an interesting one as according to tour guide Paul, some spells require a visual representation to be performed, perfectly suited to a rock concert. Apparently if you come here at night you’ll find ‘all sorts’ in the graveyard.
Mr Crowley’s playground
The Highlands of Scotland are really stunning – the kind of scenery I was waiting for. I even managed to pose in the road for a photo reminiscent of Route 66 although the know-it-all on the tour with the fancy camera insisted on taking the picture at such a strange angle I prefer my own snap above. Turn on the sound for the full Scottish experience on the video below…
Loch Ness itself blew Loch Lomond out of the water for me. Unfortunately I didn’t have my bikini and this is no Budleigh Salterton so I had to make do with paddling my feet in the water, which was crystal clear on the banks but a mysterious black further in due to the composition of the rocks.
An added benefit of taking a tour is that Tabloid Paul booked us onto an otherwise sold out boat trip and got us there early enough to be first in line to pick the best seats. Tales of Nessie sightings fresh in our minds (Paul said anything he tells us falls into two categories, either a) he truly believes it or b) he truly believes that other people truly believe it), it was a gorgeous cruise around the Loch.
Next stop on my Scottish tour had to be Edinburgh and a stay in a converted jail cell at the POD hostel. I enjoyed the concept of the number pad entry instead of a key until I was woken by some drunkards randomly trying to get in. Hostel life seems almost back to pre-covid levels other than hand sanitisers everywhere – what a novelty to sit in a communal kitchen!
Edinburgh old town
Edinburgh is essentially a collection of extremely tall buildings, we’re talking 16 stories high. In the old days people would tip their toilet waste out of the top windows and pity the fools who didn’t hear the warning cry to move out of the way. Construction continued up around the bridges, resulting in a maze of cobbled stairways and turnings on Google maps that don’t actually exist unless you want to step off a 20 foot ledge. Cue half hour of very confused walking around in circles, wondering why the expected 5 minute journey from train station to hostel was not going anywhere.
No idea
A still unfulfilled item on my Scotland list was Castles so I booked a second Rabbie’s ‘Outlanders Adventure’ tour which is intended for fans of the Outlander TV show – a show that I admitted to never having heard of to cries of ‘sacrilege!’ from the back of the bus. No problem said the regular sized, kilt wearing and pretty good looking tour guide – ‘we are here to see castles although some of it might go over your head’.
Apparently this is important in OutlanderBlackness Bay, Linlithgow
I soon made friends with my fellow passengers when the first stop required us to buy tickets on our phones. Given the average age of the group and their inability to even connect to wifi, I realised they had no chance of making a purchase so I indebted myself to the guide and bought tickets for everyone, making a quid in unreturned change.
I wasn’t expecting the Mediterranean style ancient villages in this part of Scotland. The highlight was chatting to Bob Beverage in Falkland, Fife, a local celebrity in his own right due to his friendship with the great Johnny Cash who had a connection with the tiny village and even played in the square. It looks like a simple violin shop but it’s crammed with antique items and if you ask nicely Bob will bring out the guitar signed by Cash’s daughter.
It was a lovely day with the icing on the cake being meeting Sheila, who appeared a young looking 60 something until she mentioned her 50 something year old son. Sheila and I were the only people to walk up every hill and we shared dinner and a bottle of wine after bonding over the annoyance of dining out solo and always being stuck in the ‘naughty corner’ by waiting staff holding out for bigger groups. It’s always inspiring to meet older women on their travels and proves friendship has no age limit.
Solo beerEdinburgh’s alleys
As usual a couple of days sightseeing was too much for me but luckily Edinburgh has an extinct volcano in the form of Arthur’s Seat overlooking the city and an easy hour’s climb.
Arthur’s Seat View from the top
And that’s it for my UK Tour… it’s been an eye opening experience and a lesson in appreciating what’s on your doorstep on the world travelling scale! Scotland is firmly on the list of places to return to, especially to explore more of the Highlands and get out to the more remote islands. For now I have finally booked a one way ticket out of here – next stop Montenegro.
Wandering around the dump that is Shrewsbury town centre after my train was cancelled, hungover and running on one hours sleep, lugging my bags and looking in vain for somewhere open to eat until the manager of Ask reluctantly gives me a table for four (this seems to be a theme of my travels, I would be a very unsuccessful restaurant critic) – it was not the best start to the second part of my UK Tour. In hindsight booking an early morning, 6.5 hour train journey from London straight after the first rock n roll party since Lockdown was never going to be fun. But the show must go on and there is no time to lose as I’m gate crashing the end of my good friends Anna, Adam and little Lucian’s camping getaway.
View from the train. Two-hour delay forgotten.
The eventual 9 hour journey was all worth it of course – it always is. The Cambrian Coast Railway goes west from Shrewsbury and hugs the coastline up to Gwynedd – when the train eventually turns up it transports me through the most beautiful green valleys and wild, empty beaches with tides so far out you could walk for miles on the sand. I wouldn’t have minded if it took another two hours.
I arrived in time for sunset on Talybont beach and as an added bonus, Anna and Adam are pro-campers and had everything set up for me. Soon there was pasta cooking on the stove and a cold beer in hand 🍻
The Spa was still open although what was left on the shelves was questionable
Amazingly I have reached this age without setting foot in Wales. I expected sheep and rain – we spent an idyllic day swimming in crystal clear lakes surrounded by heather covered mountains in the brilliant sunshine.
I climbed to the top of the above mountain/hill (choose description depending on your level of fitness!) in 15 minutes after Adam boasted he did it in half an hour carrying a baby. I had the whole thing to myself from the climb up to wandering around at the top, amazed by the views over even more lakes.
I soon realised camping is serious stuff, with some monster tents popping up around us. I don’t really understand the point of driving to a site and setting up what is practically a plastic house with all the mod cons, why not just sleep in a B&B in that case? I think I would prefer to wild camp in the middle of nowhere, I don’t even want to see a toilet block. However, this may be a litttle optimistic – later we were joined by new Travel Companion, Phil (another pro-camper and all round outdoorsy person) who took one look at me attempting to light the stove and asked ‘have you actually been camping before?’.
Ready made campsite, just bring sleeping bag
We moved on further inland to the even tinier village of Corris and some seriously upgraded accommodation in the form of a gorgeous cottage with a private stream perfect for morning coffee, near the town with a name I don’t dare to try to pronounce, Machynlleth.
With an entirely different but equally stunning backdrop, we visited the waterfalls near Ganllwyd. Obviously this meant climbing down to the base, yet another thing that ‘Adam did carrying a baby’ despite there not being an obvious path down. Challenge accepted – I couldn’t miss a chance to get in some more outdoor swimming (I may have had some help getting down but that’s beside the point).
Where’s the path?Post swim smug moment
This area is a great base for walking and cycling. Let’s go for a bike ride I said, momentarily forgetting that a) the hills in Wales are not the same as the flats of Norfolk and b) Phil cycles about 100 miles a day so our idea of a bike ride is very different. Subsequently he spends half the time waiting for me around the corner and I spend it trying to stay upright and not break the gears on the bike.
The scenery here is so beautiful it’s once again all worth it, especially when you end up at a great little rock pub Y Llew Coch playing 70s tunes in what seems like the middle of nowhere and the last place you’d expect to find it. A couple of pints and I’ve almost forgotten I have to cycle back.
Seven degrees of separation moment when there is a sign outside the door advertising that your mate’s band is playing here next month and the barman is from Shrewsbury, whose shopping centre still haunts me.
My introductory tour of mid Wales was topped off with a visit to the Centre for Alternative Technology (CAT), run by hippies (another theme of my travels) who promised that if I had any questions there would be a man called Dieter with a flag wandering around. I was more disappointed than I should have been not to have found him although I realise this is not the main reason to visit 🧐
I learned some rudimentary facts I should definitely have learned in school, like what a fossil fuel is and how a battery works (turns out you really shouldn’t throw them in the rubbish bin). Also, who knew you could power a train up a mountain by water? None of this was quite so enthralling for Phil who has a PhD in the subject.
Various sustainable energy sources Is this meant to be funny?
Wales only encouraged my enthusiasm for UK trips, camping is now a definite option and a whole world of short breaks has opened up. Now time to go solo up to the last of the unknown frontiers, Scotland… via an overnight stop in my old friend Shrewsbury ofcourse! It turns out when the sun is shining and you don’t look like a homeless person carrying a sleeping bag (maybe this accounts for the previous stares?), it’s actually a very nice place indeed. I even managed to get food. 🙃
If Hawaii had the Middle Aged Americans, this quiet little town in Devon has the Grey Haired Brit Brigade, with a penchant for getting their kit off. I had never heard of Budleigh Salterton until I was forced into looking for a home based seaside break due to Covid restrictions, which has essentially grounded me for the past year. Hence I’m kicking off 3 months of freedom with a mini UK Tour…
Finally on the road again
Travel companion for the first week is Karo. We share a love of the great outdoors, long walks and recently discovered natural swimming with the aim of one day joining the elite group of hardcore old ladies who swim every day throughout winter in the Hampstead ponds. In fact it took Karo (a Polish native) to open my eyes to the fact it is possible to swim in the UK seas – we recently took a day trip to Whitstable where I couldn’t believe she had packed a swimsuit and was intending to actually go in.
Fast forwarding a few weeks and a 3.5 hour train journey from London, we arrived in this gorgeous little town, our cute two bed apartment sandwiched between a cake shop, a chip shop and opposite a pub – after trying all three we came to understand that everything is closed on a Monday and I mean everything. With no Uber and nothing to do but sit on the doorstep until our host provided the keycode, we realised this would be a slower pace of life than London.
The beach here was pretty quiet, with the alarmingly white, middle class population in fact proving very friendly and incredibly accommodating of us tourists who must be ruining their afternoon teas for a good few months a year. Tip – the beach is extremely stony so the £6.99 on water shoes will be the best money you ever spent and bonus is that you can feel smug watching the other visitors trying to get out of the water.
The coastal path runs in both directions along the Jurassic Coast with some stunning views. We walked the hour to Exmouth’s sandy beach but soon turned around when we met the hoards of families setting up camp for the day and it dawned on us that this was actually a Haven Holiday Park.
New Experience Number 1: My new love of cold(ish) water swimming means I decided to get up at 5am for a sunrise swim (not difficult when the seagulls wake you at 4am everyday with their terrifying screams) where I quite literally had the bay to myself. Arms are no longer going numb in the water although the temperature was apparently a warm 17 degrees so I have a way to go yet.
We seem to have spent half of our time here wandering around looking for somewhere to eat – the one and only fish and chip shop needs to be pre-booked online to secure your spot, which we only found out when everyone around us on the beach was enjoying their dinner and we couldn’t get any. Luckily the owner took pity on us and gave me a child sized portion of chips on the sly.
Don’t be fooled by the opening times, none of this is actually available Finally!
It felt like cafes and shops were disappearing and reappearing randomly at different times of day on the high street, with the elusive Slice of Lyme constantly changing it’s opening hours to taunt us with the healthy food we were now craving. The very friendly Feathers pub let us in on the second or third attempt where we had a meal and a beer although I soon realised this was not the kind of place where you ask what lagers are available or for your nachos to come without cheese.
New Experience Number Two: if you can’t beat ’em, join’em – down on the nudist beach. Just don’t go too far down the beach where these naughty old folks are getting up to a lot more than airing their white bits if the condom wrapper floating in the otherwise pristine ocean and the note given to us by a very old, wrinkly man named David is anything to go by! Disclaimer – drawing not true to form; either David is a very fast artist indeed or he had pre-prepared a stack of them to hand out with both his landline and mobile to be on the safe side. He had the nerve to return an hour later to declare ‘if you don’t want this I will take it back’, providing me with the opportunity to give him a piece of my mind about harassing women to which he ‘apologised profusely’ and backed off down the beach, speedos in hand. The nice couple next to us advised sticking to the more family friendly other end of the beach next time but applauded our bravery.
New Experience Number Three : the water is so clear and calm here that we decided to have a go at Stand Up Paddle Boarding (SUP). I didn’t expect to even be able to stand up but in fact it was surprisingly easy, the only tricky bit was staying upright when turning around and not panicking when the beautiful blue jellyfish floated by – there are actually A LOT of jellyfish in the waters, a fact which we tried to deny up to this point even though the locals were clearly wearing wetsuits for a reason. Apparently only a couple of varieties of jellies require actual medical attention, although as Karo pointed out if you happen to be on the naturist section of the beach at the time then they probably all do 😳
New hobby
On our last day a storm was coming in and we spent a good few hours mesmorised by the tide as the waves built up. Having experienced the stronger current this morning, we could only watch in slow motion horror along with the rest of the beach goers as a woman looking to be well in her 70s with nerves of steel casually ventured in, only to be immediately knocked over face down onto the stones. We all held a collective breath before she emerged from the waves and went back down like a domino a few times before strolling back to her husband like she does this every day.
Eyes now open to the beauty of my own country and mind blown by the opportunity of swimming in UK seas, it was all too quickly time to pack up and move on – next stop Wales…
It’s 1am and I’m on the deck of a Filipino movie star’s beachside mansion, belting out Bon Jovi’s ‘I’ll Be There For You’ with my new friend Bernie, our voices echoing out across the ocean and half the island. The speakers are turned up to 11. Anyone who knows me knows that I do not sing! But karaoke is a national sport in The Philippines and they take it very seriously. Saying no is as pointless as saying you’re not hungry when invited to join dinner – a chair will be pulled out and a plate put in front of you, so you might as well just eat . Bernie has just turned off the CCTV camera that his movie star wife and former Miss Philippines had installed to keep the peace and quiet in this stunning residence 🙊. The 70 year old ‘Governor’, as they call her, is out of town and he’s cut me a deal to stay at a quarter of the price. They don’t need the money but apparently she’s one tough lady.
And I discovered that I loved it! There is something quite liberating about singing as loud as you can and not caring that most of the 2km x 1km island can hear you. Because nobody else cares. And we scored 99%.
Declining drinks is also impossible but since my request for less coke in my drink resulted in A PINT glass of neat rum being placed before me, I politely sipped it before sharing it round. To drink Filipino style means you down a shot of rum and coke, poured from a jug and garnished with tiny green limes, then the glass is refilled for the next person. Again, pointless to resist (just cross your fingers nobody has a coldsore).
Backtracking a few days, I wanted a even quieter island than Siquijor for the last few days of my trip and the chance to do absolutely nothing, other than swim in the ocean and laze in a hammock. The Philippines has so many possibilities it actually takes some effort to just stop. The place to relax is the tiny island of Malapascua, where there are no roads and no cars, just sandy paths and motorbikes. No doctor either but let’s not worry about that.
To enjoy travelling here is to accept the fact that it takes one day to get anywhere. There is no point trying to rush. The one ferry a day left Siquijor Island at 12.30, called in at Bohol Island and reached Cebu City about 17.00. I ended up spending 3 nights in Cebu City but didn’t really see much – when you ask where to get food and the hostel staff recommend that you just order takeout then that gives you an idea of the area you’re in!
The next day I set off on the five hour bus journey to Maya port at the Northern tip of Cebu island. They told me that the bus runs every hour so I was prepared for a bit of a wait, but as soon as I arrived at the station a bus driver grabbed my bag, threw it in the storage compartment and said ‘Maya? Leaving now!’ 😎
New Port
After 5 hours and hundreds of stops a few of us tourists were dropped off at the New Port where some local men were dozing on plastic chairs. We each paid 100 pesos (about $2) and jumped on a tiny speedboat that took us out to where a slightly bigger boat was waiting off shore. Very different to the super ferries!
An hour later I arrived in paradise. I jumped on the back of a motorbike, wearing my 12kg backpack and hanging on to the driver as we crossed the length of the island in under 10 minutes to where I would be staying – the Neverland camp near the North Beach.
I loved my hut!
To enjoy Neverland you have to get the concept. Half the people here are ‘volunteers’, although I’m not really sure what they were doing other than arts and crafts with local kids who hangout here. (Note to Helen – Flashback to the Filthy Hippies of Hawaii! At least I didn’t turn up in a sports car). I’ve also never seen people eat as much at mealtimes. But anywhere that makes a wooden sign with my name on it and provides me with a home cooked vegan dinner (including chocolate dessert) and kittens to cuddle gets my vote. I loved my little hut and outdoor bamboo shower. I did not love so much the ‘active meditation’. I thought it was going to be a yoga class. For half an hour we walked around in circles, stopping when the ‘instructor’ clapped her hands, at which point we had to find the nearest person and stare into their eyes for a good few minutes, whilst thinking about how that made us feel. This is surprisingly hard and very, very awkward. But not as awkward as then hugging that person and breathing three deep breaths in unison.
5 mins walk away
It turns out that the Northern beaches are in fact the most beautiful on the island. A few minutes walk away is the ‘secret beach’ by the Lighthouse Bar. A few minutes the other way is North Beach with it’s single beach cafe and couple of stalls selling cold beer and coconut bread. There is absolutely zero hassle from vendors here. They don’t try to sell you anything until you explicitly ask to buy it.
A few minutes past North Beach, over some barbed wire, is ‘Hidden Beach’. This is the site of a former holiday resort, torn down by Typhoon Yolanda. Some of the buildings remain in the form of half standing bathrooms and derelict rooms. It is a little bit eery. The damage is evident in the shanty town where many people are now living. Everybody I encountered was incredibly friendly but I do wonder what they think about the rich tourists wandering through their village to get to the beach.
The north beaches have crystal clear, warm, turquoise water, corals and fish. Once you’ve experienced beaches like this you become somewhat spoilt. I spent four days hopping between beaches, sunbathing and swimming with other people who were staying at Neverland. When you stay somewhere like this it’s easier to make friends to hangout with than spend the day alone – when you’re travelling it’s perfectly acceptable to swap numbers and invite a stranger along for the day whereas at home you’d be considered a nutter or chatting someone up 😬
Sunset from Secret Beach – I went there every day
Derelict hotel complex – that’s the bathroom
I wanted to spend my last night as close to the beach as possible. Cue my new friend Joker arranging my stay at the stunning beach residence below. It needs a bit of TLC – I leant on the banister of the steep stairs up to my room and the whole thing gave way – but the view from my room was unbeatable.
This is the view from my private balcony.
There was the added bonus of pet dog Marley who kept me company on the hammock. Malapascua is a lovely, safe place where everyone knows everyone. I had planned to walk around the island as it’s so small, but it was far too hot. No problem though as you can stop any man on a bike and get a lift for about 30p. It’s even more fun when you ride Filipino style, with at least 3 of you on the bike at once. I wish I had taken a photo.
There are actually day trips you can do to other islands, and most people come to dive with the Thresher Sharks. I was content to just be here. Sadly after 4 nights it was time to say goodbye to Malapascua and The Philippines. I had an incredible time here and could have spent several more weeks exploring the other islands on my wish list. As always, I need to come back. Two lasting memories of the amazing Philippines are below …
Known to the Spanish as the Island of Fire, Siquijor is just 340 square kilometres, all palm fringed beaches with a mountain in the middle. The Spanish called it la Isla de Fuego because of the eerie glow from the fireflies around the island at night. The Filipinos called it the Voodoo Island, or Island of Witches. It’s said that many Filipino people won’t come here due to it’s reputation for black magic, shamans and magic potions. Nowadays visitors seek out these mystical mountain healers for good, but some still fear the dark side.
Usually if you want to see the healers you have to hire a guide to find them. But my visit coincided with the Healing Festival when they congregate for 3 days on the mountain. More on that later!
I booked into the wonderful Tagbalayon hostel / guesthouse for one night before I had to move – I had arrived at Easter and everywhere half decent was fully booked. On the pickup from the port I met Shae from Australia and we headed straight out to go snorkeling on the beach opposite, a marine park. It’s actually very difficult to get into the water and swim when it’s only a foot deep when you’re wearing flippers and you don’t want to tread on the coral or get stabbed in the foot by a sea urchin 😂 I was centimetres away from squishing a beautiful blue starfish when Shae screamed STOP! I saw more beautiful colourful fishes on this free outing than on that rubbish day trip on Bohol.
My first Siquijor sunset
There are no buses on Siquijor Island. Transport is by motorbike or tricycle. I opted for a local guide to take me around on his bike with Shae following on hers – she actually knew how to ride one. This is a really fun way to see the island and gives you the opportunity to check out all the sites without getting lost, then you can return later on your own if you want to.
My wheels for the day
Probably the bluest water I’ve ever seen – no filter!
My favourite stop was the cliff jump – although personally I don’t enjoy jumping into deep water our guide had a great time. Video below! After that he was keen to chill on a secret beach for a while 😂 Payment is on a donation basis – after asking around 800 pesos was apparently the going rate but this works out just £5 each for an entire day which didn’t feel enough to me.
Eveyone on the island seemed to be at the Old Tree, which is also a natural fish spa. I also don’t particularly enjoy having fish nibbling my feet 🤷🏻♀️
Siquijor turned into girls on tour when we met more solo female travellers and formed a little group, making plans each day to zip around the beaches on scooters and try different places for dinner. Some things are more fun with other people 😎 Siquijor is so small that every day one of us would run into someone we’d met before.
New friends
Naturally we decided to go to the Healing Festival, bringing along Alexandra from Finland on her pink scooter.
After we filled up the bikes with gas from glass Coke bottles we realised our paper map was useless and we didn’t actually know where the festival was or what it would look like. A man told us turn around, take the first left and ask for San Antonio… I love days like this!
We made it to San Antonio after accidently driving past it (it’s just a tiny cluster of little houses) and after several more stops to ask directions we learned the festival was at the Bandilaan Mountain. One more false start when we recognised the name of a cave (some healers hang out in mountain caves) and only after queuing up for a while did we realise we were in the line to go caving, unrelated to the festival 😂
Alexandra is a hit with local lads
Eventually we arrived at an extremely well organised festival with staff wearing official tshirts directing us to parking spots. After a steep climb up through the national park we reached the mountain top with its Easter Cross – still no healers in sight.
Where’s the healer?
Next clue was a ‘band’ providing entertainment, cue bad singing and reading the words from an iPhone over a sound system which everyone seemed to love. After asking a few more times ‘WHERE ARE THE HEALERS??’ finally we found some little areas under the shade perched high up, with signs for various treatments and long queues of locals and a few tourists. Here we met Nathalia from Poland in the queue for the Bolo Bolo healing. We’d come this far so decided to stick it out and queue for all of them, not that we really knew what they entailed 😂
First up Bolo Bolo. The healer, a man probably in his 40s or 50s, took a jar filled with a clear liquid, with a stone at the bottom, and started blowing into the jar through a straw while moving the jar around my body. If the water becomes brown, you have a problem. Thankfully it remained clear and the healer simply said ‘your body is clean’. Phew. Payment is on a donation basis – we probably over paid for fear of upsetting the healers and being cursed.
Next, Hilot Massage and Palm Reading. Four ladies were doing slightly different massages with the most amazing scented oil any of us had ever smelt. I don’t know what it was, maybe a coconut base, but the glass bottle was full of unrecognisable herbs. Alexandra said her head was bruised after but I loved mine. They spoke only a few English words so the palm reading was interesting…. no privacy here either as the people in the queue jumped in to helpfully translate our readings. I have a feeling a lot was lost in translation as many people received the same fortune. Apparently I’ll be rich by the time I’m 50 👏 cue somebody in the line to offer to marry me at 49 😂
I really enjoyed this festival, it was great to experience something totally different with mostly Filipinos. The drive was also incredibly scenic. I wanted to buy the scented oil but the following was a little bit more than I was looking for – if I bought this and it started bubbling I think I would die of panic.
The fun didn’t stop there as the next day Alexander and I had signed up for a trip to the miniscule Apo Island, the most expensive outing so far at about £30 for the day. Only one company runs these trips, the most expensive resort on Siquijor, Coco Grove. It was also possibly the best day trip I’ve ever taken. Prepared for a rickety old row boat, we were amazed to board a huge luxury boat with comfy airplane style seats, towels and banana cake which won everyone over. We ran into Nathalia again and also picked up Amelia from England.
After an hours cruise we transferred to speed boats to reach the shore where we got two guides for our group of four. There were 65 people in total and I thought it was going to be chaos – but the ocean is big and the individual groups are small. Straight away we encounted giant turtles, wider than me and well over 1m in length. It was almost as good as the whale sharks, especially when you’re swimming along side these graceful creatures and they come up to the surface for air, sticking their cute little heads out next to you. Luckily Nathalia took some photos! The water was so clear I could see the divers below me.
Again it’s hard to keep your distance as sometimes they turn and swim towards you. We all screamed when that happened. I even saw their tiny little teeth 😂
The day continued with buffet lunch (beer and chips!!!) on a gorgeous beach.
I ended up spending 5 nights on Siquijor as I hadn’t booked my ferry ticket in advance and discovered all the seats were sold out until after Easter weekend. There are worse places to be stuck! 😎
I did have to spend two nights in my worst accommodation yet, John Lhea Beach Cottages. Let’s just say that I did not have a beach cottage, I had a windowless room in a building away from the beach, unless you count the two windows (just a fly shield in place of glass) into my next door neighbours room, including a window into their bathroom!
Neighbour out of sight
The flimsy blind was on their side so I had to shout out to them to please close it as I could see them and hear EVERYTHING. It also meant I couldn’t sleep until they did as their light was essentially my light. I couldn’t even tell the owner / staff as there was never anybody around who was not sleeping 🤷🏻♀️
What does this weather mean? We saw it every night
Eventually I got a ticket off this island by paying a man £3 to go and queue up at the port at 5am and buy it for me 🙈 There is always a way in The Philippines! Next stop, the even smaller Malapascalua Island…
Maz On The Road 