We went to Sveti Stefan on Day 12, which is a short and scenic bus ride from Budva. It’s an island with some stuff built on it which is connected to the land by a causeway. Unfortunately it was closed for renovation so we didn’t see much of it and instead had an adventure looking for a beach.
Most of the beaches in this area were private. So you had to pay to get into them, or you couldn’t get in at all. One place (not even a great beach) wanted to charge us 65 EUROs to sunbathe!!! We found a free one in the end and sunbathed for a bit before heading back.
On the way home, Mike, Ange, Cat and me were walking along and this guy raced past us on his bike, before screeching to a halt and saying “there’s an aussie accent!” We chatted to him and it turned out he was riding from Turkey to France (slightly less impressive than the French couple from Ostrog but still amazing). He had about a month left, and like the French couple he was going from place to place telling his story trying to get by with food and makeshift accommodation. We told him we’d be heading back to the Irish pub that night if he wanted to join us, which he did.
There was a horrendous thunderstorm which almost scuppered our plans for the night, the streets were literally like rivers. But after about 20 minutes it was over and the place was dry. Just a typical coastal storm but the first I had seen.
When we arrived at the Irish pub the Montenegrin barmaid I liked was there again. She didn’t need to ask what drink I wanted. She was being very sweet, and ludicrous as it sounded, Cat thought that she might like me. She kept looking over at me, and was looking at me the whole time I was outside smoking. And as soon as I got back she came from behind the bar and sat across from me to chat.
She was studying in nearby Cetinje, the old capital of Montenegro (new one is Podgorica just in case it comes up in a pub quiz). Her name was Mareca (prounounced mar-ee-tsa). I really liked her, she was so much fun, and had all these cute mannerisms. We left the Irish pub for dinner but were coming back.
Dinner at a place called Mozart was the best of the trip. A pepper steak drizzled with Cognac. Yum! Although we did have the most forgetful waiter ever. I used my smoking breaks to chat to the biker, who came with us. Turned out he was doing this bike ride for an epilepsy charity as his best friend had recently died from it. Aw.
Me and Cat also hatched some plans to chat up Mareca when we got back to the Irish pub. I needed some girl advice on that one.
This biker had the biggest appetite ever, or he hadn’t eaten in a while. Cat offered him some of her pizza after he finished his own and he took it, then another, then another spare slice was going. He basically cleaned up everything that everyone left. Guess he needed the energy!!
When we got back to the Irish pub Mareca’s shift had finished. Aw.
Outside, again on an antisocial cigarette break, I got talking to a guy who had just arrived with his wife and daughter. He was a Londoner working as a UN peacekeeper in Kosovo so this was a bit of a treat for me. We chatted about the war and how things have been going since 1999 when the war in Kosovo was ended by air strikes in Serbia (including the places I’d been to earlier in the trip). He was impressed that I’d picked Serbia and Bosnia etc to come to on my first holiday. I also told him some stories from my trip which kept him and his wife and daughter amused. The wife was Kosovar, and they had come down to the coast for a holiday. The daughter was Australian though, from a previous marriage and she was over visiting.
I chatted to them most of the night, his wife was really nice, although his daughter (around 20 I think) was fidgeting waiting for the pub’s PC to be free so she could look up Facebook :s
I left a little tipsy after a few tequila cokes, including one the UN guy bought for me, and got home around midnight for my last sleep in Budva.
Hi! I was surfing and found your blog post… nice! I love your blog. 🙂 Cheers! Sandra. R.
Nice blog – was a trip down memory lane. Some great memories too.