Romania

Romanticised in literature as Dracula’s homeland and then closeted away behind the iron curtain for most of the 20th century, Romania is a fascinating prospect to visit and has been on our “must-visit” list for a while. So, after booking the 14-day tour of the Balkans we opted to add on an 8-day tour of Romania using the same tour company, Penguin Travel.

 

The flight from Sofia to Bucharest was just over an hour in a small propeller plane operated by Romania’s national carrier TAROM and surprisingly included complimentary trolley service. Our driver picked us up and we whizzed along wide tree-lined streets past shopping malls filled with big European brands like Carrefour, Leroy Merlin and Decathlon. We turned into a wide boulevard and the Arc d’Triomphe loomed in front of us. Had we been transported back to Paris? Not quite. This is the Romanian Arch of Triumph and is one of the reasons this city is referred to as the Paris of the East. This Arch may not be as large as its western counterpart, but it’s large enough and sits majestically in the middle of a roundabout at the top of a long leafy boulevard, the latter part of which runs through an expansive tree-filled park. We were then driving along Victory Avenue past palatial Belle Epoque buildings from the late 19th century that survived the communist era and have now been brought back to their former glory.

 

Our accommodation was the Novotel, a modern high-rise hotel built behind the remaining stone façade of a 19th century building bombed in the second world war. The hotel was right in the centre of town and after checking in we walked the short distance to the Centru Vechi, the Old Centre. This small area is a glimpse of pre-1940’s Bucharest. What the war didn’t destroy Communism did with its “out with the old, in with the new” philosophy. There are some beautiful buildings here, like the Odeon Theatre and the majestic CEC Bank, built in 1900 with a huge glass dome roof, and the National Museum, built in the late 19th century with a row of very grandiose Doric columns. The tangle of streets in this old part of town are mostly lined with bars, restaurants and strip joints. There’s a seedy side to Bucharest and its known as a destination for stag weekends.

 

The next day we ventured back into the old town past some lovely Orthodox churches where wedding parties gathered outside, and down to Dambovita River. Across the river is where the old town most suffered under Nicolae Ceausescu’s communist leadership. In the early 1980s, after an “inspiring” visit to North Korea, Ceausescu ripped out 80 percent of the historical centre — 30,000 houses, schools, and churches — to create the Civic Centre district, with wide boulevards, stone-faced apartment blocks, gurgling fountains, and a Pyongyang aesthetic. Urban planners managed to save a few churches by secretly relocating them inside city blocks, where you can still find them today. At the end of Union Boulevard, we could see the huge Parliamentary Palace’s looming presence. This is the piece de resistance of Ceausescu’s Bucharest. We didn’t venture closer as a tour of this enormous building was planned for the last day of our tour and we didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

 

The rest of our day was filled wandering back through the old town and doing a bit of shopping, snapping up some bargains in the summer sales.

 

That night we met our tour group and our guide for dinner at the hotel. There were 10 in the English-speaking group: an extended family of seven from Canada, whose ancestors had migrated from Romania, a Norwegian man who had left his wife back home at work, and us. Then there were two Germans and their German-speaking guide who would ride with us on the bus. Our guide Alex was a 28-year-old from Bucharest who had been leading tours of his country for 10 years. He said the reason he did he job was to change the perception of Romania. He was certain that most people thought of Romania as a breeding ground for criminals and vagrants and that all Romanians were “Gypsies”. Funnily enough we’d heard this prejudice a few times during our travels where people labelled beggars as “Romanians” and talked of gangs of “Romanian” thieves that came through and stole everything in their way. From what we’d seen so far Romania was far from a crime-riddled country and we were more than happy for Alex to dispel this misconception.

 

On Tour

Day 1: Bucharest – Curtea de Arges – Sibiu – Sibiel

We set off from Bucharest in a zippy 19-seater Mercedes bus; ten English speaking tourists, the two Germans, the 2 guides – Alex for the English and Carmen for the German speakers – and our driver Danny. The landscape was flat with fields of maze and sunflowers that had finished for the summer, their heads drooping sadly.

 

We arrived at our first stop at midday: Curtea de Arges, the former capital of Wallachia. It was here that we had our first glimpse of the religious lavishness that weaves through this mostly rural country. Curtea de Arges Monastery is where the kings and queens of Romania are buried and in the centre of the complex, glowing bright white, is the pavlova-like Cathedral of Curtea de Arges, built over 500 years ago by Prince Neagoe Basarab. Although Byzantine in style it is heavily influenced by the Ottomans and has a very middle-eastern look.  We didn’t expect such opulence in Romania. The interior is dark and lined with incredible frescoes in those rich blues, reds, greens and golds that Orthodox churches are known for. After visiting the church, we wandered the monastery grounds past the tombs of Romanian kings and queens including the last King of Romania, King Michael, who was forced to abdicate in 1947 and then exiled by the newly instilled Communist regime.  His exile marked the end of the monarchy. Years later, well after communism had fallen, when King Michael died in Switzerland his body was brought home to rest.

 

It was time for lunch. All the meals apart from one dinner were included in the tour price and as this was the first after the hotel buffet breakfast we were interested to see what we’d get. It was the start of a week of what seemed like non-stop eating – three course meals for both lunch and dinner and all traditionally Romanian.

 

We continued on along the picturesque Olt Valley and through to Sibiu, one of the oldest cities in Transylvania. This lovely historic town is known for its Germanic architecture, the legacy of 12th-century Saxon settlers. Alex took us for a brief tour through the town, past pastel coloured buildings to the Evangelical Church with its geometric patterned tile roof, then over Liar’s Bridge and back to the Main Square, watched over by the impressive 13th century Council Tower of Sibiu. Quite aptly a mediaeval fair was underway, and the main square was bustling with people in costume. The group had dispersed by this stage and we wandered through the market stalls and watched knights bounce off each other in some sort of medieval wrestling match. The buildings in Sibiu have eyes. The vents in the rooves are shaped like eyes and they disconcertingly follow you when you walk by giving the town a fantastical feel.

 

We met back at the bus and drove the short distance to Sibel, a small rural village. It was pouring with rain by at this stage and we made a mad dash into the Museum of Icons, housed in a rustic country building with white-washed plaster walls and timber beams. Inside was an incredible collection of religious paintings on glass, not done by any artists of note, but rather by everyday people. This is an age-old Romanian tradition and each region uses different colour combinations and artistic styles. Some are very childish, others more sophisticated, but all fascinating. The collection was extensive and stretched over multiple floors.

 

Our accommodation for the night was a very short drive from the museum. It was a guest house in a traditional Romanian farm house where a high gate opens onto a central courtyard encircled by the farm buildings and house. We were treated to a delicious home-cooked Romanian meal, but not before downing a good-sized dram of the local Rakia, a strong grape-base spirit. If this was how the tour was going to continue we were on to a good thing.


Day 2: Sibiel – Sighisoara – Targu Mures – Bistrita

Breakfast was a hearty traditional spread of local yogurt and honey, lots of sour dough bread, white cheese, cold meats, boiled eggs, and the loveliest smoked pepper relish which is a staple in this part of the world.

 

While we waited for the bus an elderly couple walked by leading their large grey cow with a huge bell hanging around its neck. They could have been straight out of the 18th century.

 

Our first stop on Day 2 was at the fortified Church at Biertan. The road to Biertan was narrow and lined with small rustic farms. Our bus driver had his work cut out for him dodging many horse-drawn carts, still a popular mode of transport in rural Romania. The 15th century fortified church at Biertan is more of a castle perched on a hill in the middle of a village surrounded by quaint streets and vineyards. Three tiers of 35-foot-high defensive walls, connected by towers and gates, encircle the complex, making the church impossible to conquer during medieval times. It is not hard to see why this is a UNESCO listed heritage site. Unfortunately, the church was closed on Monday. No one had told our guide. He was understandably upset with this glitch in his itinerary, but we were more than happy to walk around and admire this beautiful building from the outside. Built by the descendants of the Saxons there is a very Germanic look to the church and village. We were starting to think Romania looks like the setting for a Grimm’s fairy-tale.

 

This didn’t change when we arrived at our next destination. Sighisoara, birthplace of Vlad the Impaler, the real-life man behind the character of Dracula. The bus wasn’t able to drive up to the historic town of Sighisoara and we were dropped at the bottom of a hill. We walked up and through the city gates to discover an adorable, picture-perfect medieval Citadel complete with a prominent clock tower. It is easy to see why this town is a UNESCO World Heritage site and considered one of most beautiful and best-preserved medieval towns in Europe. We climbed the wooden covered medieval stairway to the creatively named Church on the Hill, a Gothic church with a simple exterior and cavernous interior where ancient frescoes squint through the whitewash that had intended to hide them forever. We walked back down to the narrow-cobbled lanes to the “House of Dracula” restaurant for lunch. This is the actual house where Vlad Dracula, later known as Vlad the Impaler and the man behind the fictional character of Count Dracula, was born. Of course, the restaurant was cashing in on this connection and after lunch we were ushered upstairs to Dracula’s Lair where an actor lying in a coffin sprang to life on cue in dramatic fashion. A bit of a repetitive job but someone’s got to do it.

 

After lunch we had free time to explore the town further before hitting the road again towards Targu Mures. On the way we passed through a Roma community. Alex told us that the Roma people or “Gypsies” are not well-liked in Romania as their criminal activity gives the country a bad name. They are not considered Romanians as they originate from Northern India and from what Alex says it sounds like there is a lot of prejudice against them and they are a marginalised minority.

 

Targu Mures is literally “Market on the River Mures” and people have lived there for thousands of years. Roman ruins have been excavated nearby and the symbol of Roma, the statue of the Capitoline Wolf suckling the twins Romulus and Remus, stands proudly in front of the Town Hall. The Romanians are quick to remind you of their Latin heritage.  Targu Mures is unique for its combination of Romanian and Hungarian influences and after being dropped near the City Hall we took a walking tour through this elegant city. Opposite the Town Hall is the impressive Palace of Culture, ostentatiously decorated in colourful mosaic tiles. Further down the street in the centre of town is the grand Orthodox Cathedral, relatively new by comparison, having been built in the 1920’s and early 30’s, but very ornate with a richly painted interior. We continue to be amazed by the architectural opulence in Romania, and the stark contrast between the simple rural life and these beautiful religious buildings.

 

Our busy day of sightseeing continued, and we drove on to Bistrita, one of the 7 medieval cities in Transylvania. Saxon colonists, who settled here in 1206, helped develop the town into a flourishing medieval trading post and like the other towns in Transylvania it is very Germanic. When we arrived, a stage was set up in the central pedestrian area and a sound check for a rock concert was underway. Our hotel was in the nearby square and after checking in, it was time for dinner, another 3-course meal. With three meals a day, two of which are 3-course, we’re going to come away from Romania 5kg heavier.


Day 3: Bistrita – Campulung Moldovenesc – Gura Himurului

The next morning, we left Transylvania behind and drove through to Bucovina, the “upper land”. We drove through more lush green countryside made up of small farms and dotted with quaint traditional haystacks. Our first stop was at the garish Dracula Hotel built during the communist era in a bid to attract tourism. Getting off the bus we were greeted by an adorable dog who immediately befriended me. Like the other countries we’d visited in South East Europe there are plenty of stray dogs in Romania. In the parking area around the hotel were stalls selling all types of Romanian cultural objects and local products. We bought a souvenir and a gift before getting on our way.

 

The drive continued through dark forested hills. This is the land of Dracula that Bram Stocker described so vividly in his novel despite having never visited Romania.

 

Campulung Moldovenesc is a non-descript, run-down communist era town that you wouldn’t normally visit if it wasn’t for the Wooden Art Museum, that looks like nothing special from the outside but inside is veritable treasure trove of wooden artefacts from centuries of Romanian peasant life. All types of farm equipment, honey extractors, musical instruments, weapons, household appliances – what they didn’t make from wood didn’t matter. It was fascinating.

 

Lunch followed at a lovely rural restaurant and consisted of delicious soup that was heavy on garlic followed by meat and potatoes, both strongly seasoned with dill. They eat a lot of soup and potatoes in Romania and use a lot of garlic and dill for flavouring. There was no chance Dracula was coming near us.

 

The Bucovina region of Romania is famous for its painted monasteries and they are touted as a highlight of the trip, so we were looking forward to seeing them. A thunderstorm burst just as we arrived at Moldovita Monastery and we had to shelter against a wall while Alex did a superb job describing the frescoes in front of us. Unlike most churches where the frescoes line the interior, both the exterior and interior of Moldovita is covered in exquisitely intricate and richly coloured images. The exterior was completed in 1537 and the vivid and violent Siege of Constantinople is the highlight. Another stunning representation depicts the Tree of Jesse, representing Christ’s genealogy, a wide-spread iconographical theme in Europe during the Middle Ages. Entwined in the religious iconology are images of everyday peasant life along with the birds and animals of Romania. You could look at these for hours and still not see all the details. It is a truly exquisite building.

 

From the monastery we drove to the small village of Vatra Moldovitei, dodging two runaway horses who must have took fright during the thunder. In an unassuming house in the village is a museum of painted eggs and the workshop of master egg-painter Lucia Condrea. The ground floor is devoted entirely to her work – thousands and thousands of hen, goose, swan and duck eggs that have been intricately painted with painstaking detail. They are amazingly beautiful, and I wanted them all. But, they are not for sale. Strangely enough, and much to Mr Love’s confusion, Lucia Condrea doesn’t sell her work, she exhibits it. Photography is also banned so you have to take our word on just how incredible her art is. We asked her son-in-law, who guided us through the museum, how she made money, but he couldn’t give us a straight answer. Perhaps it’s some type of artists grant? We have never known of an artist who doesn’t sell their work.

 

Our hotel for the night was in the town of Gura Himururlui. There wasn’t much here apart from our huge hotel in the centre and a rather lovely church. Mr Love commented that this must be at least the 2,000th church he’s visited since we arrived in Europe.


Day 4: Gura Himurului – Voronet – Lacu Rosu – Miercurea Ciuc

Our monastery visits continued the next day starting with Voronet Monastery. Another exquisitely painted monastery, this one is famous worldwide for the blue colouring used in its exterior frescoes – a colour known as “Voronet Blue”. It is incredible these intense colours have survived its 500-year history. The scenes in the frescoes depict, like a movie storyboardthe history of Christianity, presented in an original manner and very much influenced by folk beliefs and Eastern culture. Our guide Alex talked us through the most famous of the frescoes, the painting of The Last Judgement. It is this mural that gave the monastery the name of “The Sistine Chapel of the East”, following Michelangelo’s masterpiece in the Vatican. The flamboyant mural tells a dramatic and intense story, and like all the frescoes on the monastery The Last Judgement entwines religion with folklore and pagan symbols; even the signs of the Zodiac are present.

 

We continued on our way, driving through quaint Moldavian villages and passing numerous horses pulling carts laden with corn, hay and wood.  The next stop was the village of Tarpesti, home of the delightful “Neculai Popa” Museum. This is a museum of folk costumes and the walls are lined with colourful masks used in traditional festivals. Alex donned the goat costume and had us in fits of giggles as he very seriously did the “Goat Dance”, lurching around and swaying from side to side in no particular sequence and with no rhythm. He emerged covered in sweat to a well-deserved round of applause.

 

We had two more monasteries to visit so bundled back onto the bus. Varatec and Agapia monasteries don’t have painted exteriors, but instead both have a white-washed chapel in the centre of perfectly manicured rose gardens surrounded by buildings housing hundreds of nuns. There are over 400 monasteries in Romania staffed by 5,000 nuns and 3,500 monks. At Agapia a nun showed us the carpets they were weaving by hand. They are beautifully crafted out of the finest Romanian wool and come with a hefty price tag. She took us through to another room where they were knitting fine wool hats and scarves and I couldn’t resist a lovely chocolate brown wrap.

 

We’d had our fix of monasteries and it was time to see some more of Romania’s dramatic landscape. The bus dropped us in the steep Bicaz Gorge and we walked a few hundred metres along the river trying not to photo-bomb the wedding party getting their photos taken with the cliffs as a backdrop. Further into the Carpathians mountains is Lacu Rosu (the Red Lake), named for its reddish tint caused by the colour of the silt on the bottom. Surrounded by forest the lake could have been beautiful except that it was overcrowded with people in rowing boats, mostly brides and grooms with drones buzzing overhead taking their wedding photos. Food stalls and ice-cream vendors crowded onto the lake shore and there was litter piled about. It wasn’t the picturesque mountain lake we were expecting.

 

Our hotel was a lodge nestled in the forest near the lake and that night the temperature dropped. Autumn was in the air.

Day 5: Lacu Rosu – Bran – Brasov

The scenery on our drive through the Eastern Carpathians the next morning was beautiful with steep forested slopes as far as you could see.

 

The terrain eventually flattened out and we were soon driving across what our guide described as a “fake plane” – a plane at a very high altitude and where temperatures drop to minus 30 plus in winter. This is also Székely Land, a historic and ethnographic area in Romania, inhabited mainly by the Székelys, a subgroup of Hungarian people. I noticed light blue coloured flags flying outside most houses. Alex told us this was their “national flag” and that they don’t identify as Romanians and many don’t speak Romanian. He was scathing that they wouldn’t converse with him in Romanian and highly against their wish for independence.

 

Our first stop for the day was at Prejmer to visit to a UNESCO listed fortified church. This is the largest fortified church in south-eastern Europe and was built by Teutonic knights in 1212. It’s a closed circular, white-washed plaster and timber building surrounding a grassed area with a church in the middle. It reminded me of the Globe Theatre. The circular building is divided into apartment-like houses, schools and workshops, and in a cavity running against the exterior wall is an area for soldiers to keep watch and defend the church from as required. Oddly this fortified church is built on a plane, rather than a hill as most forts are. A modern village now surrounds the fort and tourism is an important contributor to the local economy. Across from the fort a stork’s nest balanced on top of a chimney and the resident stork had not yet departed south for winter.

 

We drove on towards the town of Bran, famous for the medieval castle that has been adopted as Dracula’s castle. During the communist era the government focussed on the story of Dracula to encourage tourists and as Dracula’s fictional castle was a figment of Bram Stoker’s imagination they decided on another unrelated castle to be called “Dracula’s Castle”.  The castle in Bran was built as a fortress for the citizens of Brasov in 1377, as a defence for the city. The only tentative link to Dracula is that Prince Vlad may have used the Castle as a base during his incursions in Transylvania, but this is hard to prove. In 1922, Queen Mary of Romania changed the castle into a Royal residence and it became the best-known castle in Romania. After the royal family were exiled the castle was taken over by the communist government. However, in the early 2000’s the descendants of the royal family put a claim on it and it was finally returned to their ownership in 2009 and opened to the public as a museum. It is very much a fairy-tale castle from the outside but inside it is a bit sparse and although there are some lovely pieces of furniture on display it is not one the better castles we have visited.

 

From Bran Castle we drove the short distance to Brasov, another lovely Saxon town.  Alex lead us on a walking tour through the charming old town centre starting at the multi-spired Ekaterina Gate of the Old Citadel, then across to the Black Church. An enormous Gothic church, the Black Church is the biggest church between Istanbul and Vienna and was built by the German community in the late 14th century. The Lutheran church was originally named Saint Mary’s Church, but in 1689 a great fire destroyed the interior and damaged the walls and the roof, and it was named the Black Church because  the exterior was blackened from the fire. A traditional music festival was being held in Brasov and the town square was closed off for the event, cutting our walking tour short. It’s a very popular festival and is a sell out every year.

 

After we’d finished the walking tour our bus took us a couple of kilometres down the road to our hotel. It was the only night where our meal wasn’t included so we needed to find somewhere for dinner. There wasn’t much around the hotel and the centre of town was too vibrant to pass up so one of the Canadian women walked back with us to the town centre. It was humming. The pedestrian streets were filled with people and bars and restaurants spilled out over the cobbles. Google produced a well-rated restaurant and we were treated to a beautiful Hungarian influenced vegetarian meal accompanied by superb Romanian wine. After being served so much meat it was nice to have a break. The owner was a hip young woman who knew her stuff and brought three different bottles of wine to the table for tastings before we decide which one we wanted a glass of. We have never really given much thought to wine from this region, but both Romanian and Hungarian wine is good quality and sophisticated.

 

Day 6: Brasov – Sinaia – Bucharest

The next day was our last on the road and in the morning, we crossed the majestic Carpathian Mountains toward Sinaia. Sinaia is the home of the fabulous Peles Castle, an exquisite piece of architecture and one of the most spectacular castles in Europe. This Neo-Renaissance castle was built between 1873 and 1914 and was influenced by the romantic castles of Germany. It served as the summer residence of the Romanian Royal family and sitting on a hill surrounded by forest and with a backdrop of mountains it is very much a story-book castle. The interior is beautifully decorated with dark sculpted wood and the stained-glass windows give it an elegant and truly royal feel. Luckily the communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu left this castle untouched because he was a germ-freak who thought the dark wooden interior hid germs and dirt. It is stunning inside and rooms that are all richly decorated and diverse, with exquisite beauty and sophistication. The opulent gold and cream movie theatre is sublime and it was here where the first movie was screened in Romania. Perhaps the most famous room is the Great Armory Room, hosting some of the finest collections of arms and armour, with over 4,000 pieces of weaponry that were collected or received as a gift, mainly from Western and Eastern Europe, but also from other regions of the world. The mirrors, the carpets, the curtains, the furniture, the artworks – all sumptuous and entirely exquisite. We were blown away and both agreed this was the most impressive castle or palace we have visited in Europe.

 

After Peles Castle we headed straight back to Bucharest and Alex took us for a tour of his city. It is certainly a city of contrasts between old and new, with large boulevards and magnificent buildings. He showed us where Nicolae Ceausescu made his last speech before being overthrown in the revolution in 1989, a significant turning point for Romania.

 

We stopped for lunch before visiting one last place. After Peles Castle we thought we’d seen the best, but we were wrong. Our tour of the Palace of Parliament blew our minds.

 

The Palace of Parliament is the second largest administrative building in the world after the Pentagon. The total number of rooms is unknown but there are around 1,100. We walked around the building for an hour and saw 4% of it. It is so massive that it is visible from the moon. Currently, this imposing building houses the Romanian Senate and the Romanian Chamber of Deputies. Also known as the “People’s House”, it was Nicolae Ceausescu’s attempt to redesign Bucharest by constructing a series of impressive buildings meant to prove to the world how wealthy and powerful the Socialist Republic of Romania was. Construction started during the communist regime in 1983 and involved 400 architects lead by a 28-year-old woman named Anca Petrescu. By the time of the Romanian Revolution in 1989 the building wasn’t yet finished. After the Revolution, no one had the desire to complete this gigantic building and many Romanians demanded the destruction of the building which was seen as a symbol of Ceausescu’s megalomania and of the extravagant lives lead by the former communist elites.

 

The Palace of the Parliament is excessive in every way. One million square metres of marble was used, 3,500 tonnes of crystal in the chandeliers, 220,000 square metres of pure wool carpets, 3,500 square metres of calf skin to cover the chairs, the list goes on and on and is mindboggling. Plus, all the materials used were of Romanian origin, with the only exceptions being the doors of Nicolae Balcescu Hall. These were received by Ceausescu as a gift from his friend, the African dictator Mobutu Sese Seko, the President of the Republic of Zaire.

 

We stood on the balcony looking down the wide boulevard filled with fountains, created to be grander than the Champs-Élysées, and reflected on what sort of ego you’d need to think it was appropriate to build such an atrociously enormous building while your countrymen struggled in the fields with barely enough food to survive. This country is still trying to shake off the legacy of the oppressive policies Ceausescu inflicted on Romania. Despite that, the buildings are now used by multiple government departments and can be hired by the public for conferences and events. I find it hard to justify its existence. He may never have seen the building completed but in its very existence Ceausescu has made sure he is never forgotten. Something he surely doesn’t deserve.

 

It was the end of our tour. We’d been to the heart of rural Romania and seen how life in the countryside and small villages is mostly unchanged – farms still using horses, hay stacked by hand – and still steeped in folklore, with traditional values and religion firmly at the core. Bucharest may be a thriving modern city but outside of it, Romania is rustic and rural. Communism may have ended nearly 30 years ago, but it cast a long shadow and Romania is still trying to catch up to the rest of Europe. And it’s catching up fast with growth nearing double digits. But, I hope it doesn’t try too hard and lose its identity on the way. This warm, charming country is just lovely as it is.

I used the itinerary that was supplied by Penguin Travel as the foundation for this blog and built on it with our own experiences and insights.

Tour of The Balkans: Week 2

The second week of our tour introduced us to four new countries; taking us along the Adriatic coast to Montenegro across the mountains to Kosovo, through Albania to Macedonia and back to Bulgaria.

 

Day 8. Dubrovnik to Kotor, Montenegro

After two nights in Dubrovnik we headed south to Montenegro. Winding our way up the coastal road we had spectacular views back over the Old Town, brightly lit in the morning sun – a chance to say goodbye to the beautiful Pearl of the Adriatic.

 

Not too far across the border we stopped at Herzeg Novi, a coastal town near the mouth of Kotor Bay. It’s a pretty town of creamy coloured buildings with red tiled rooves. A little church sits in the centre of the charming old town and an historic fort crouches on a rocky outcrop overlooking the bay. There’s an Italian feel to the old town; a reminder that coastal Montenegro was once under the control of the Republic of Venice.

 

Back on the bus we continued along the coastal road with views down to beach resorts packed with deck chairs and colourful umbrellas, winding our way further into the Bay of Kotor. The resorts gave way to steep rocky slopes rising from the astral-blue water and extending to peaks high above. Scrubby bushes dot the arid mountainsides. The road curled around the bay on a small slither of flat land between the water and the mountains. It was a hot clear day and people were swimming or relaxing under trees along the rocky shore. We stopped for lunch in the town of Perast, built on a strip along the shore. Glowing peaches and cream in the sunlight this little town is very Italian. Even more so is the flat man-made island sitting just out in the bay with the domed cathedral perched on it. It may as well have floated here from Venice.

 

Kotor Bay looks like a Mediterranean fjord. It winds almost 30 kilometres inland and is surrounded by the imposing Dinaric Alps. At the far end of the bay, where it is particularly narrow, lies the walled town of Kotor. We rounded the bend and were met with the sight of a massive cruise ship, looking like it was wedged in the narrow inlet and dwarfing the small walled town beside it. Another was moored just offshore. They looked far too big to be in such a small space.

 

We walked a short distance from where the bus dropped us and through the stones gates and into Kotor. This enchanting medieval town sits snuggly at the base of a mountain and is overlooked by a string of crumbling towers and fortifications clinging to the steep mountainside. Like Dubrovnik there are no cars or bikes inside the walls, only people and cats. But it is much smaller than Dubrovnik and wasn’t affected by the earthquake that destroyed many of the medieval buildings in Dubrovnik, so is almost entirely made up of buildings built between the 12th and 14th centuries. This magnificent cluster of medieval churches, palaces, theatres and townhouses safely encircled by walls makes Kotor a very unique place and is why it is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

 

A local guide took us through the town. Narrow cobbled lanes opened to charming squares skirted by honey-coloured buildings. The impressive two-towered Cathedral of Saint Tryphon sits in the middle of one of these squares. There are lots of churches in this very small city:  the 13th century Church of Saint Luke, the Church of Saint Ana from the 12th century, the Church of Saint from the 13th century, the Church of the Healing Mother of God from the 15th century – the list is long. Other treasures are the Prince’s Palace from the 17th century and Napoleon’s Theatre from the 19th century; newer than many of the buildings but very much a part of the rich tapestry of Kotor. The cats of Kotor, our guide told us, are arrogant and indulged and live a pampered life on these charming streets, keeping the city rodent-free.  They’ve somehow become an icon and in recent years cat motifs have appeared in souvenir shops – the “Cats of Kotor” are becoming famous.

 

When we first arrived, I’d eyed the fort on the hill and after our walking tour ended the other Kiwi on our tour and I decided to take it on – it was only 1355 steps to the top. The sun was setting, and the fort was a throng of activity. Groups of young backpackers were draped over the walls taking selfies and drinking beer – one enthusiastically sharing the experience with his parents back in Spain. I’d lost my tour mate but briefly befriended a young Chinese tourist and we took each other’s photos – she had some serious model poses that I was far too old to replicate.

 

Back down in the town I found Andrew drinking beer and chatting away to a guy from Brisbane he’d just met. He excitably told me how the beer only cost 2 Euros a bottle and was even on TripAdvisor for its cheap brews. I deserved one after my effort.

 

Before finding a place to eat we went back to a shop we saw earlier that was selling the most beautiful handcrafted Christmas decorations. I had seen some adorable wooden Father Christmases and I wanted one. Each Father Christmas was different and each exquisitely hand-painted with the kindest of faces. They have been crafted by the same families for hundreds of years in rural Montenegro. It took us a while to decide but we finally found ‘the one’. At 220 dollars he is the most expensive Christmas decoration I’ve ever bought, and I hope the certification they gave us appeases the Bio-security officers in New Zealand.

 

Day 9. Kotor to Pec, Kosovo

The road out of Kotor wound around the bay before rising steeply through the mountains before heading inland towards Kosovo. The drive through the mountains was beautiful – forested hillsides with the occasional house and peaks down into lush green valleys. It was sparsely populated and obviously poorer than the touristy coast. We stopped at the highest point of the mountain pass for lunch and then headed on; stopping for photos in a magnificent gorge and buying fresh figs from a roadside vendor, then passing ski fields and mountain villages to finally arrive at the border. It was a small border station in a remote location and after being stamped out of Montenegro we drove 10km before we reached the border control for Kosovo. This 10km stretch is no-man’s land – territory that is still disputed after the most recent war.

 

Kosovo is Europe’s youngest country, declaring independence from Serbia in 2008. Despite most the world recognising Kosovo’s independence Serbia doesn’t. This is hampering Serbia’s quest to join the EU which can’t happen until they recognise Kosovo. It’s complicated.

 

Our first impression of Kosovo was that it looks poor. Only twenty years ago a bitter war was raging here and it’s still recovering. Rundown buildings line the roads and shells of former factories lie in overgrown fields. The valley we drove down into looked fertile and green, but much was unused and the crops that were growing there were patchy and small.

 

We had been on the road all day and it was evening when we pulled into the hotel in Pec, a city not far from the border. Our hotel was rather grand, sitting proudly in the central square and looking rather out of place in its dishevelled surrounds. This was the hotel where President Tito stayed when he visited the area, back when these countries were all part of the greater Yugoslavia communist state. After checking in we walked through the town.  People looked at us suspiciously. They’re not used to tourists. Pec isn’t a destination. There aren’t any buildings of note, or historic sites. It’s shabby and messy. Power and telephone lines looped across the streets and gathered in jumbled nests on poles and sides of buildings. There were lots of small shops selling gold and silver or knock-off Nike and Tommy Hilfiger. There were lots of people about. Families were out walking, there were street vendors selling divine smelling corn on the cob and the coffee shops were full of people drinking and smoking hookah pipes.  The flag of Albania – a red flag with a symbol of a black two-headed eagle in the centre – was flying everywhere. It was hard to find the flag of Kosovo. There were a couple hanging on the sides of government buildings, but even then, they were flying next to Albanian flags. The people of Kosovo identify with Albania, not Serbia. There are rumblings that Kosovo may eventually unite with Albania, and this is probably why Serbia is so staunch in its stance on denying Kosovo’s independence.

 

Dogs are everywhere here. They seem to co-exist with the people, quite content doing their own thing. Most are friendly, but some are not. We wandered over to a group of bronze statues in the square. A gang of dogs were lying around the base and one took exception to our approach baring her teeth and growling angrily – we made a quick turn and got out of there

 

A thunderstorm rolled around the hills and that evening it rained; heavy fat drops.

 

Day 10. Pec to Prizren, Kosovo 

The next morning, we drove the short distance to Visoki Decani Monastery. NATO troops are based here to police the area around the monastery because of the political situation between Kosovo and Serbia. This Serbian Orthodox UNESCO site has been the target of unrests in the region and recently as 2007 KFOR has had to defend it from grenades being thrown by Albanian supporters. Only 20 or so monks remain in this monastery, like other Serbians, most have moved north since the war, out of Kosovo. The KFOR military presence was intimidating, and we had to show our passports to get in, but once inside it was tranquil and very beautiful. In the middle of this walled monastery sits the sturdy 14th century cathedral with a rather plain exterior. Step inside and the treasure is revealed – incredible frescoes in sumptuous reds, blues, greens and yellows and of course plenty of gold. We can only hope this incredible treasure is kept safe.

 

We continued on our way towards Prizren. The highway was lined with a single string of urbanisation and behind the vegetable shops, carwashes, houses and wedding halls was a patchwork of fields with small clusters of crops, seemingly unorganised and of no significant scale. The wedding halls were odd – lavish establishments in faux-Grecian style with garlands of garish plastic flowers, often with white Hummers parked outside and totally out of place beside dilapidated buildings in semi-rural settings. We were told they love their big blingy weddings here.

 

It was just after midday when we arrived in Prizren. It was hot and humid and rain clouds were threatening overhead. Andrew left me in the hotel room blogging and went to find water and fruit. He came back excited by the vibrant town he’d discovered; people were everywhere, and the restaurants and cafes were overflowing.

 

Our local guide met us at 5 for a walking tour of his city. He was in his 30’s and owned a backpacker hostel. He started by taking us to the Catholic Cathedral opposite a Jewish community centre, then to the heavily guarded Serbian Orthodox church and finally into his own place of worship, the beautiful historic Sinan Pasha Mosque where the very funky young Imam greeted us warmly. Our guide kept stressing that Kosovo is not overly religious, that all religions live here peacefully, and he has plenty of friends of all faiths. Being in the tourist industry he has a vested interest in ensuring the message conveyed to tourists like us is that Kosovo is a modern multi-cultural society that embraces its diversity. The heavily guarded Serbian monastery we visited earlier and the security around the mostly idle Serbian orthodox church in Prizren challenges this.

 

The politics are complicated, and who are we to comment. We were here to learn about this region’s complex history and culture and enjoy the warm and charming city of Prizren. And it really is charming; the shallow Bistrica River flows through the middle of the Old Town crossed by a beautiful historic stone bridge, a fort sits on the hill above, and the historic centre is jammed with lovely character-filled buildings dating back to the 14th century.  I had noticed a lot of Audis and BMW’s with German, Swiss and French number plates. I asked our guide about this and he told us that these will be Kosovo people who fled the war returning to visit family for summer. He laughed and cynically said they probably spent their annual salary on a flash car as it’s their status symbol to impress family in their homeland. He told us Prizren is also where the Albanian national awakening began when a political organisation defending the rights of Albanians was founded in the city back in 1878. As a result, a lot of ethnic Albanians from all over the world come to Prizren as a sort of pilgrimage. We visited the building where this awakening began, and sure enough loads of people were having their photos taken outside, many posing with the hand gesture of the two-headed eagle.

 

We finished our tour where the path up to the fort started and surprisingly Mr Love suggested we walk up. He normally leaves me to conquer forts alone. It wasn’t too much of a climb and the view across Prizren and out to the mountains was lovely. Families and friends gathered on the lookout, posing for photos and sharing jokes. The sun was starting to set, and the place was bathed in hazy pink and gold. A call to prayer wafted up from the mosques below.

 

Back in town we went souvenir shopping and found some lovely hand-painted ceramic bowls, perfect for olives and humus. It was hard to find a place to eat, not from lack of restaurants but because they were all so full. We finally found a table for two squeezed at the back of a traditional restaurant. Dinner was more grilled meat with shope salad, white cheese and pita.

 

Day 11. Prizren to Tirana, Albania

We were woken at 5am by the most beautiful call to prayer I’d ever heard, followed by the clang of church bells. No rest for the wicked.

 

There is only one checkpoint at the border between Kosovo and Albania. Normally you pass through two, one to exit the country you’re in and the other to enter the new country. This relaxed approach says a lot about the relationship between these neighbours.

 

The first thing we noticed after crossing the border were the concrete domes scattered across the countryside. These are bunkers. 750,000 were built under the direction of communist dictator Enver Hoxha, who ruled Albania as one of the most isolationist Stalinists from the end of World War II until his death in 1985. It is known as “Bunkerisation” – my new favourite word. We also noticed the state of the roads. They were big highways for very little traffic and there were many new bridges under construction. How could a poor country afford such roads? In New Zealand even one bridge would take years. Later we asked our local guide and he told us the funds come from the EU and also the Chinese who have mining interests in Albania. Perhaps NZ could apply to join the EU.

 

We arrived in Tirana, checked into our hotel and went out to find lunch. Under communism many old buildings were destroyed and replaced, so most buildings here are not older than 50 years and many have been built since Albania opened up in the early 90’s. We found a produce market that was under a spanking new glass marque in a newly paved square and surrounded by restaurants. Lunch was the most beautiful tomato salad with white cheese and a chicken shisha each. Both of us ate for $10 NZD. It is absurdly cheap in Albania.

 

Our local guide met us outside the hotel at 4 for the walking tour. Tirana is spread out and this was the longest and furthest walking tour of the trip so far. He was my age and had plenty of stories from growing up in the 80’s in the most isolated communist state in world. He didn’t own jeans until he was an adult, they had no TV, he had never seen a banana – his mother was too afraid to try one when they first arrived in 1992, but they’re now her favourite food – and there were only a handful of cars in the country and they were for the politicians and people of power. Most people had never driven when cars arrived in the early 90’s. Can you imagine the mayhem of the roads? Our guide told us Albanians are still getting the hang of driving so be careful crossing the road.

 

He took us first to Skanderbeg Square – an enormous space of gently undulating granite. It had recently been repaved at cost of 15 million Euros and the tiles are already showing signs of wear and cracking in places. Understandably this has caused some contention. This grand square is flanked by communist-style buildings: The National Library, the Palace of Culture, and the National Museum of History with the famous mosaic billboard called “Albanian” – communist propaganda depicting ancient to modern figures of Albanian history. An enormous flag flies from the Palace of Culture and another above the statue of Albania’s founding father Skanderbeg, Lord of Albania on a horse. We walked on past the 18th century Et’hem Bey Mosque which was closed for renovation and across to the art gallery where in a parking lot at the back of the building we found decaying statues of Lenin, Stalin and Hoxha – placed out of the way, but still accessible as a reminder of their past.

 

There is a lot of modern art in the city and the current Prime Minister, Edi Rama is himself and an artist, and a former basketball player. Even the traffic lights are arty. The entire pole glows green or red. A canopy of lights straight from an old-style Hollywood theatre or a casino hangs above the entrance to a government building. There’s a sense of playfulness about the place, like they’re making up for years of suppression by being as wacky as they like. Edi Rama is a colourful character. You may have seen the photos of him towering over Merkel and Macron in a suit with white trainers. It was his statement about freedom of expression after a lifetime of suppression. Our guide is optimistic about Albania’s future. He says people are returning home from abroad and young people are not leaving. The economy is picking up and they’re regaining their identity

 

We walked past the graffiti covered Pyramid of Tirana. Built as a museum to honour Hoxha and designed by his daughter and son-in-law, this huge eye-sore now lies abandoned. The people of Tirana don’t know what to do with it. However, our guide told us agreement has finally been reached to preserve it and renovate it, turning it into something positive. After all, it is part of their heritage, however dark that may be.

 

In the newer part of town, where the hip bars, restaurants and designer stores are, is Enver Hoxha’s former residence. It is a mansion built in the 60’s and would not have looked out of place on a Californian boulevard. Once again, debate on what to do with this mansion has been ongoing but it is likely to be turned into a museum of some sort. We noticed a KFC and asked our guide how long it had been here. It had recently opened but there is no MacDonald’s in Albania and apparently no plans for it and likewise there is no Starbucks. Food and coffee are so cheap here, perhaps they just can’t compete.

 

That evening we ate another beautiful local meal and even with a glass of wine each the bill only came to $18NZD.

 

Day 12. Tirana to Berat, Albania

We left Tirana and headed to Berat, an historical town and listed UNESCO World Heritage Site. Berat is famed or its handsome white Ottoman houses that tumble down the hillside to the Osum River. The town has been lovingly preserved and the funding that came from the UNESCO listing has been used to create a wide paved pedestrian boulevard lined with shops and eateries on one side and a park on the other.  Our hotel was in a traditional Ottoman style building and was one of nicest we’d stayed in.

 

Our walking tour in Berat was of the castle on the hill. This town has been inhabited for over 2,400 years and in its early history the castle was the city. Inside the castle, they built churches with valuable frescoes and icons, and uniquely today, residents still live within the castle walls. The ensemble of the Byzantine churches in the castle is extraordinary. We were shown through the Cathedral of Saint Maria, now a museum that displays the works of famous iconographers of the 16th century. There are over 100 gloriously sumptuously paintings of icons on display.

 

It was dusk when the walking tour finished, and we descended from the castle on the hill back into town. The quiet town that we had arrived in at midday was now a hive of activity and the empty restaurants and bars were overflowing. Where had all these people been hiding?

 

Day 13. Berat to Ohrid, Macedonia

The next morning, we headed off towards Macedonia. The countryside we drove through was barren, dry and mostly deserted. We passed donkeys pulling carts piled with corn or watermelons and there were lots of dogs wandering along the roadside, sometimes deciding to cross causing some heavy breaking.

 

Just before the border we stopped at a service station for the driver to have a break. Across the road was a hill covered in bunkers, some quite large. A couple of us walked across and climbed the hill to see these bunkers up close. A dog came out of a small bunker wagging her tail in greeting. She was followed by her tiny puppy. We walked inside the large bunker. It was a round concrete dome semi-submerged with a slot to fire your gun out of. Hoxha had no friends and thought everyone was out to get Albania. There is no doubt that man had issues.

 

As we drove down the hills into Macedonia the landscape became greener and more fertile. It wasn’t long before we were driving beside Lake Ohrid, a beautiful lake and our destination for our last night on tour. We arrived in the pretty town of Ohrid and were greeted by a couple of friendly local dogs as we got off the bus. Our hotel was right on the lakeside and after checking in we walked along the promenade into town to change money and have lunch. Ohrid is a busy resort town and the pedestrian areas were lined with souvenir shops and bustling with tourists.

 

That afternoon our local guide took us through the quaint old quarter filled with traditional red-roofed houses and cobbled lanes, up past the ancient Greek amphitheatre that was discovered accidentally by developers in the 80’s, to the impressive Byzantine Holy Mary Perybleptos church and up to the centuries-old Samoil’s Fortress that dominates the skyline. We climbed the fortress walls and admired the expansive view across the lake before walking back down to the beautiful Church of St John at Kaneo sitting on a point overlooking the water.  This church is the iconic image of Ohrid and we’d seen it many times on tourist sites promoting Macedonia.

 

Someone in our group asked the guide if Macedonia was a potential candidate for EU membership. He laughed and said Macedonia would be lucky to be considered as a candidate for candidacy.  Macedonia, like its neighbours, is a developing country. There is over 21 percent unemployment here.

 

It was our last night on tour and a farewell dinner was arranged. Two taxi boats collected us from our hotel and took us to the old quarter to a restaurant where we had a table over the water. Our amusement for the night came from feeding the hundreds of fish who went into a frenzy when anything was dropped into the water. They liked bread and lettuce but went absolutely crazy for chicken. An old widowed swan came by for a look too, the waiter told us she’s been around for a very long time.

 

The moon was almost full and lit up the lake as we walked slowly back along the shore to our hotel.

 
Day 14. Ohrid to Sofia, Bulgaria

The next day was mostly taken up driving the long distance through Macedonia to Bulgaria. It was a pretty drive with lovely scenery of mountains and green countryside. Macedonia is very rural and sparsely populated. To break our journey, we stopped for lunch at a beautiful monastery tucked amongst the trees in the hills just before the border.

 

Going back into Bulgaria we were re-entering the EU, so Andrew missed out on another stamp in his passport. Back in Bulgaria and it was obvious this country is far more modern and developed than its neighbours. Simple things like the absence of supermarkets. Here there were large supermarkets again – the German owned Lidl is everywhere – and industry, and largescale farming with big machinery.

 

It was night by the time we arrived at our hotel in Sofia. We found a place for dinner and reflected on our trip through the Balkans. Sarajevo was a highlight for both of us – the contrasting cultures displayed so obviously in the divide between the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian architecture of the old and new town, and the story of the Siege of Sarajevo and the hardships experienced and the resilience of the people of Sarajevo. There were many other highlights. For me, Kosovo was an eye-opener, and the beauty of the Adriatic coast cannot be overstated. In two weeks we only scratched the surface of this complex and colourful region but the insights into these countries, the culture we experienced, the history we witnessed, the scenery we soaked up, and the people we met will stay with us for a long time.

The following morning, we were off to the airport to catch our flight to Bucharest for our next adventure in Romania.

 

We went on the Penguin Travel Balkan Kaleidoscope tour and highly recommend this tour company.  

 

Tour of the Balkans: Week 1

Mr Love has spent almost 15 months driving through Europe and the UK, first in the motorhome and then in a rental car, covering over 34,000 kilometres. I’ve spent the same amount of time in the passenger seat planning our route and navigating. It was time to give ourselves a break and let someone else make the decisions and we opted for an organised tour for our next adventure through the countries of the Balkan peninsula.

 

It’s hard to find the perfect tour and I did a lot of research to find one that went to all the countries we wanted to visit, suited our budget and most importantly suited our style of travel. When you’ve been travelling independently for as long as we have it was going to be hard to relinquish the flexibility we have become accustomed to. Penguin Travel was offering a well-priced tour through the region and positioned itself as being for the ‘active traveller’ with a less structured itinerary which suited us. We thought we’d give it a go.

 

We arrived in Bulgaria three days before the tour started giving us time to explore Sofia. Our first glimpse of the city from the window as we descended to Sofia airport was of a matrix of decaying soviet-style apartments. The next was of large colourful billboards shouting about the best beer in Bulgaria popping out from overgrown, abandoned buildings sites during a hair-raising taxi ride to the hotel.

 

Our flight had been delayed and it was late. The concierge suggested a good local restaurant nearby. We stepped out into the humid night. The street was dimly lit, trees drooping over cracked pavements, pink and yellow paintwork peeled off shabby buildings and roller doors covered shopfronts. We expected a homely little bistro with plastic table cloths and a Coca-Cola fridge in the corner and were surprised to find a very hip bar and eatery with modern interior and filled with locals, mostly young and well dressed. The traditional shopska salad and chicken shashlik was excellent and the local wine even better.

 

Day 1: Sofia, Bulgaria

In the light of day, we saw the real Sofia. We walked into the city centre down a wide boulevard to the National Palace of Culture and across the white tiled square with colourful plantings, past shallow geometric pools filled with dancing fountains, to the main street. Vitosha Street is named after the mountain that overlooks the city and the street appears to run directly to it. It’s a pedestrian only street and was humming with activity. Restaurants spilled across the cobbles, buskers performed to crowds and even though it was only 10am, ice-cream vendors were doing a roaring trade. There was a laid-back feel to the place. People were smiling, and no one was in any rush.

 

Down Vitosha Street, past parliament and the Statue of Saint Sofia with her golden face, is Sveta Nedelya square, the centre of Sofia. In the middle of the square is Sveta Nedelya church with a beautiful interior of rich frescoes in dark blue, red, emerald green and gold. It is these sumptuous interiors that make Eastern Orthodox churches my favourite of all European churches.

 

We continued past the ruins of the Roman city of Serdica on which Sofia is built. This city from 2,000 years ago was discovered less than a decade ago during construction work and is now an open-air museum. Behind the ruins is the historic Banya Bashi mosque, our first reminder of the Islamic influence in this part of the world. Nearby is a beautiful old bathhouse, now the National Museum, and beside it is a tap drawing water directly from the mineral springs. I took a sip – it was hot and metallic.

 

We cut across a wide street and walked up past the National Art Gallery towards the gold onion domes of the Russian Church with its striking green-tiled roof. Up further we browsed through an open-air antique market before crossing to the stunning Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. With a 45-metre gold dome, this is one of the largest Eastern Orthodox Cathedrals in the world. The interior is truly magnificent with opulent frescoes lining every surface – those rich intense blues, reds and greens, and all that gold.

 

Walking back to Vitosha Street we stumbled on more ruins of Serdica behind the Sheraton Hotel. In the middle of these was the circular red-brick church of St George, Sofia’s oldest building. This 4th century church is a small, squat building and its circular interior is lined with fascinating frescoes.

 

We were quite taken with Sofia. It is worn and a bit dated, but this adds to its charm. There’s a youthful vibrancy here too, a comfortable coolness of a city moving forward but with nothing to prove.

 

That evening we couldn’t resist going back to our “local” again for dinner.

 

Day 2: Sofia, Bulgaria

We had asked a woman in the tourist office for ideas on how to spend our second day in Sofia and she didn’t hesitate in suggesting we head out of town and up Mount Vitosha. She promised magnificent views and a “feeling of vitality” after spending time in nature. We thought this was quite amusing but took her advice. To get to Vitosha we caught the metro from the sparkling new European Union station, got off near a shiny new shopping centre filled with well-known high-street brands and then caught a bus that had been in use since the communist era. The further out of the city we drove the more rustic the surrounds. The bus struggled over crumbling roads past overgrown shacks and dilapidated apartments, past pop-up shops in shipping containers and an oddly large number of car wash yards, finally reaching the base of Vitosha. The chairlift operated from a humble wooden shed and the lift itself was in its original condition – cracked wooden seats, peeling paint, and rusty safety bars. We joined the queue of mostly mountain bikers and were soon up amongst the trees. At the top we walked out across the plateau to the lookout and yes, the view was magnificent.

 

The return journey didn’t go as smoothly. The chair-lift stopped, and we were left hanging for what felt like a very long time, especially for a person who does not have a head for heights. My knuckles were getting whiter and my heartbeat faster and then we finally got going again, eventually making it down safely albeit with couple more stop-starts.

 

That evening we walked back into the city and sat in Vitosha Street, people watching over a local beer.  Dinner was up a side alley in a traditional eatery. Meshana skara (mixed grilled meats), bread and a salad of gloriously sweet tomatoes and some excellent local wine. Bulgarians sure know how to make wine.

 

Day 3: Sofia, Bulgaria – Studenica, Serbia

Today was the first day of the tour. We had our paperwork that told us to be in the hotel ready for a 9am pick-up. It was 7:55, Andrew was in the shower, and we got a call from reception. The bus was waiting for us, we were supposed to be leaving at 8. What? We checked our info sheet again and it clearly stated pick-up was at 9am so I ran down to see what the story was. Yes, the bus and group were waiting for us. Apparently, the hotel was supposed to have told us of the change the previous night but didn’t. Andrew was not impressed. He does not like to be rushed. This wasn’t a good start to the tour.

 

After sculling a coffee and grabbing some fruit from the buffet, we were on the bus with 17 others and heading towards Serbia.

 

It took well over an hour to get through the border. On the other side were a line of ramshackle sheds operating as currency exchange offices – we stopped to change our money from Bulgarian lev to Serbian dinar. Although Bulgaria has been part of the EU since 2007 it hasn’t yet switched to the Euro, there are a few more obligations to meet before it can. Serbia’s EU membership is currently being considered but may be a while away as they have to deal with the sensitive issue of accepting Kosovo’s independence before that will happen. More on that later.

 

Apart from a roadside lunch stop our first experience of Serbia was in Krusevac, the medieval capital. Now a small rural town, Krusevac is rundown and slightly depressed looking with an architectural hangover from the communist era. We were here to visit an old fort and the lovely 14th century Lazarica Church. Interestingly the stone rose windows in this red and yellow brick church have a Celtic design. A tribe of Celts must have been among the many people to pass through this area over the centuries.  Being the height of summer, it is also the height of wedding season and there had been no less than six weddings in the church that day – the blingy brides still lingering for photos in the surrounding gardens.

 

The afternoon wore on as we made our way through the Serbian countryside past small farms; each with a few fields of newly cut hay, some rows of grapevines, a patch of tomatoes and a cluster of plum and apple trees. Slowly the farms and villages made way for forests and mountains and we arrived at our destination for the night – Studenica, a medieval monastery tucked in the velvety green mountains. We stayed in the students’ quarters outside the monastery walls. Our room was small but comfortable and contained three narrow wooden beds and a small writing desk, above which hung a cross and the gilded image of a saint. The balcony overlooked the monastery, the church and an orchard on the slopes behind. In the golden afternoon light, it was peaceful and still.

 

That evening we ate in the dining hall and got to know some of our fellow travellers. An eclectic group hailing from around the world: USA, Canada, Belgium, Sweden, Portugal, Singapore, and a New Zealander living in South Korea. Our dinner was a hearty three course meal of vegetable soup and freshly baked bread, followed by trout and potatoes and then some kind of sweet that we passed on, all for only 5 euro each and accompanied by a glass of wine made by the monks. It was simple and delicious.

 

Day 4: Studenica, Serbia – Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

The next morning, we were shown through the church in the monastery. The interior of this church is particularly special and contains some of the most important medieval frescoes in Europe. These Byzantine-style frescoes are richly detailed, and the colours are exquisite, especially that mesmerizing ‘Byzantine blue’ made from lapis lazuli sourced from hills of Afghanistan. Over time they have faded, and some have been destroyed during the many wars in the area and now they are being restored. Seventeen people are working for 3 years to restore these frescoes to their former glory. We watched them work. It’s painstakingly slow going.

 

Back in the bus we continued through rural Serbia. From the window I watched farming couples make hay together. The man driving the vintage tractor and his wife on the trailer with a pitchfork in hand and a triangle headscarf over her hair. Most of the hay was being piled by hand into traditional cone-like haystacks. A few farms had balers, the old-fashioned type that need a lot of manual intervention and produce uneven sized bales. Had we driven through a time warp?

 

We stopped for lunch at a tourist spot where a steam train takes rides through the mountains. A famous Serbian movie was shot here too and there is a cluster of chalets in an odd Swiss-oriental design. The waiter in the bistro wasn’t in the best of moods and abruptly told us that only thing available was goulash in an attempt to discourage us from staying. It was too hot for me to eat but the rest were more than happy with goulash, much to the horror of the waiter. Our guide told us that Serbian service can be a bit up and down.

 

Our journey through Serbia continued past hydro lakes set in pretty forested surrounds but with hundreds of plastic bottles and bags floating on the surface. It was hard to look past the rubbish on the sides of roads and in waterways.

 

It didn’t take long to get through the border with Bosnia and Herzegovina. Our first stop in Bosnia was at Visegrad to change currency again and see the famous stone bridge of Mehmed Pasha. Apparently, this bridge features in the novel “The Bridge on the Drina” by Nobel Laureate Ivo Andrich in which it was symbolic in the connecting of two communities and cultures, east and west. It’s a small town, set in a picturesque gorge and the River Drina is a beautiful opaque blue-green. But it’s hard not to notice how rundown the town is. A couple of small boys asked us for money and scruffy street-dogs laze in the gutters. There’s 35% unemployment in Bosnia and Herzegovina. This is a developing country, still finding its feet after coming through communism and then war.

 

It was getting dark when we arrived in Sarajevo and after checking in and getting refreshed we headed into the Old Town to find something to eat. The skyline was filled with mosque minarets. There are over 100 mosques here and the call to prayer can be heard across the city. The Old Town is the Ottoman part of town and is like walking into a Turkish Bazaar. Filled with people eating and drinking Turkish coffee and smoking shisha from elegant hookahs it was an incredible atmosphere and totally unexpected. I’m not sure what I expected from Sarajevo, but it wasn’t this.

 

Day 5: Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

We were woken at 5am by a melodic adhan coming from the mosque across from the hotel.

 

Included in our tour package is a walking tour of each major town we visit and our local guide in Sarajevo met us at the hotel to show us around his city. He is of Albanian ancestry but was born in Sarajevo and being in his mid-20’s is part of the new generation of Bosnians.

 

The Balkan Peninsula is the link between the West and the East and because of this it has been walked over by armies and tribes for thousands of years and was sought after territory by empires. The Ottoman Empire ruled over the Balkans for more than 400 years and it was them who brought Islam to the region. Bosnia was under the control of the Ottomans from the mid-1400’s to 1878 when it then fell under Austro-Hungarian rule. These two empires have greatly influenced this city and walking from the old part to the new is like going from Turkey to Austria in 100 metres.

 

Sarajevo has a volatile past. Putting aside the most recent conflit for a moment, this city was the trigger point for World War One when Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir apparent of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was assassinated by Serb separatists in 1914 sparking the Austrian invasion of Serbia and consequent repercussions.

 

But it is the most recent conflict that resonates with me. As communism broke down in Yugoslavia the territories that made up this area sought independence and war broke out as they jostled for land and bickered over borders. Long-held prejudices came to the surface and religious and cultural differences inflamed conflict. Sarajevo was held hostage for nearly four years, from 1992 to 1995, by the Army of Republika Srpska, a separatist army of Serbs from within the newly formed Bosnian state. That’s how complicated the situation was – armies from within countries were fighting each other, neighbours against neighbours.

 

I was leaving high-school and starting university when across the world, war broke out in a country I had barely heard of. The nightly news gave it 5 minutes worth with a BBC or CNN talking head trying to decipher the politics behind it. But, it was Paul Holmes who made this conflict real for me. He found a teenage girl in Sarajevo who gave reports of her experiences in a city under siege. He spoke to her often on radio and TV and she told him of not being able to leave her apartment, not having access to water, her joy that they managed to go out and get bread, her anger at her school being closed. It was compelling journalism and it hit home. She wasn’t much younger than me, probably my brothers age. Here we were knocking on the door of the 21st century living a modern and free life in beautiful New Zealand and on the other side of the world a young woman didn’t know where her next meal was coming from and only wanted to go to school. Since then of course there have been many documentaries and films telling the story of the Balkan Wars and the Siege of Sarajevo and I’ve seen and read more about it. But being here in Sarajevo those reports and the impact they had came flooding back to me. I wonder where she is now?

 

Our guide showed us some Sarajevo roses – concrete scars in the footpaths caused by mortar shell explosions that were later filled with red resin as a reminder of the blood that was spilled. He was only a small child during the war and he remembers the sound of the F16’s overhead, part of the NATO forces that were “monitoring” this war. His parents still talk about it. His mother telling him about not having power and laughing about overloading the homemade generator. He’s in his 20’s – that’s how recent this history is. He is positive and proud of Bosnia and confident history won’t repeat but there must be a lot unresolved pain and hurt here, it doesn’t just go away.

 

After the walking tour finished we visited the Srebrenica Exhibition to try and understand this conflict further. This confronting photographic exhibition tells of the 1995 massacre of 8,000 Bosnian Muslims by units of the Bosnian Serb Army. This is a horrifying visual account of the thousands of men and boys killed in cold blood and worse was that those responsible tried to cover it up by moving the bodies, not once but up to three times. Some of the dead still haven’t been identified.  People have been held to account for this crime, but not all of them. Some families lost all their men while those responsible walked free. That sort of pain doesn’t just go away. We were numb. I understood even less about this conflict.

 

Andrew decided not to come on the “Sarajevo under Siege” tour that afternoon, he felt he had seen enough of wars so stayed in town while I went off to try and get my head around this tumultuous region. We headed out towards the airport, driving down “sniper alley” from where the Bosnian-Serb Army (although our guide referred to them as simply Serbs) fired continuously onto this city, holding it hostage for so long – the longest-running siege of any city in modern history. The buildings are still pock-marked with bullet holes. They are in no hurry to repair them. Sarajevo does not want to forget its past.

 

Beside the airport is the entrance to the Sarajevo War Tunnel, or the Tunnel of Hope. This tunnel ran under the runway of the airport and was the only connection besieged Sarajevo had with the outside world. It took more than six months to dig the tunnel and was done using pickaxes and shovels. The 800-meter-long corridor is a little over a meter wide and has an average height of 1.5 meters. Thanks to the tunnel, the beleaguered city regained access to telephone lines, oil supplies, food and electric energy.

 

From the tunnel we drove up the mountain where the 1984 Winter Olympics were held. The view over Sarajevo was stunning and we watched a magnificent thunderstorm roll in. Signs warning of landmines are visible from the road. 2% of Bosnian land is still covered in active landmines. The concrete shell of the Olympic bobsled track remains, and we walked down it. It was used as a shield for fighters during the war and is now a canvas for urban art. It’s a surreal place.

 

We got to the bottom of the bobsled track just as the sky opened and the thunderstorm hit. Back in town Andrew said the streets had turned to rivers. It stopped as quickly as it started.

 

That night we walked into the new part of town for a drink. The Sarajevo Film Festival was on and the streets were alive. Attractive promo girls handed out flyers, policemen joked with passers-by, groups of young people laughed over beers, and young parents pushed sleeping toddlers in strollers. Back in the old town, down a narrow lane behind the Gazi Husrev-beg Mosque, we had traditional Bosnian BBQ for dinner. They’re big on grilled meat in this part of the world.

 

This is a remarkable city. It’s not afraid to confront its past, its proud of the complexities of its existence and it embraces the different cultures that make it what it is. There’s a positivity to the place, a feeling that it can only keep getting better. I only hope it does.

 

Day 6: Sarajevo to Mostar to Dubrovnik, Croatia

The next morning, we left Sarajevo for Mostar. The drive through Bosnia was beautiful, past emerald green lakes and rugged mountains. Mostar is a small historic town famous for the Stari Most, a 16th-century Ottoman bridge that crosses the river Neretva and connects the two parts of the town, the east and the west. It was bombed during the Balkan wars of the 1990’s but was rebuilt using the same stones and is now a UNESCO listed heritage spot. It serves as a symbol of the peaceful coexistence of different cultural and religious communities in the Balkans. The bridge is steep and slippery and crowded with people, not a place to linger. Three or four local men in speedos were handing around a hat collecting money. Once they had enough they jumped from the bridge. Our guide told us about these divers and I was expecting an elegant head-first dive, but it was an undramatic feet-first drop. Across the bridge we walked through the jumble of narrow cobbled lanes lined with souvenir shops and restaurants, pushing through the crowds of tourists, to a 300-year-old mosque where we climbed the minaret for views across the town and down the river to the bridge.

 

After Mostar the bus continued on through the dramatic Dinaric Alps, the mountain range separating the continental Balkan Peninsula from the Adriatic Sea. The landscape changed from lush fields and forests to dry scrubby plains dotted with rocks. We briefly stopped at Radimlja to see the unic stecci – a cluster of mysterious grave stones from XV century – before heading through to Dubrovnik. The border crossing seemed to take forever and finally we were in Croatia looking down on the beautiful dark blue Adriatic Sea.

 

It had been a long day and it was late by the time we checked in to our hotel. We were close to a seaside resort area with plenty of restaurants, and we wandered down to find something to eat.

 

Day 7. Dubrovnik, Croatia

Dubrovnik is often referred to as the Pearl of the Adriatic and it obvious why. Once an autonomous maritime trading powerhouse, similar to Venice, the old town sits on a point and enclosed by 2km of golden walls. To enter you walk across a draw bridge and through an imposing gate and once inside you are engulfed by a pearly Baroque paradise. Shiny cobbled streets and seem to merge into the warm glow of ornate fountains, plazas and archways that in turn flow into the curves and facades of the alabaster palaces and churches. Most of Dubrovnik was destroyed in the great earthquake of 1667, only the walls remained intact, so instead of having a mix of different architectural types Dubrovnik is mostly baroque, making it very unique. There are no cars nor any bikes inside the walls, just pedestrians. It is beautiful. A fantasy land – almost like you should be buying tickets at the gate. This is why it has been used as the set of many films, including Game of Thrones and the latest Star Wars movie. This onscreen fame is bringing in hordes more tourists and while we were there we saw many Star Wars and Game Thrones tours underway. There have been recent protests here with locals feeling pushed out of their own town.

 

The wall-walk is fantastic – punctuated by towers and overlooking the sea it takes you right around the circumference of the city. There is no shade up there and the crowd moved slowly. We were over-heated and back down in the cooler streets we re-hydrated at that opulent water fountain.

 

Above the old town a cable car takes you to a viewing point for stunning views up and down the coast and out over the islands. It’s hard to believe this seaside tourist resort was under siege for 8 months in the early 1990’s and that beautiful old town was shelled continuously by what remained of the former Yugoslav army as they tried to take Dubrovnik from the newly independent Croatia. Yes, it’s complicated.

 

After a morning in and around the old town we headed back to the beach and spent the afternoon swimming in the crystal-clear waters of the Adriatic.

 

Croatia is the newest member of EU, joining in 2013, and the second only other Balkan country in the union along with Bulgaria. Dubrovnik is only one part of Croatia, but it looks much more modern and far more affluent than its neighbours. Unfortunately, with its popularity it risks becoming another homogenised Mediterranean resort town.

 

Our first week on tour was over in this fascinating part of the world. The next day we were heading to country number 5 – Montenegro.