I am gonna keep this on the shorter side becuz I am on an ipad and am finding it doing weird things. Such is life in the third world. Or so it seems here in Montenegro, translated means, Dark Mountain. It's not really dark here and it is not really third world but there sure are a lot of mountains.
My time in Bosnia has ended. Oh the great divides in this broken up place. If it is confusing here in the Balkans for the locals imagine an outsider trying to get it. For example, in Bosnia I found myself in the mountains on my way from Mostar ( trying to reclaim it's former glory) to Nevesinje and in the middle of nowhere I came to a sign that read, " Welcome to the Republic of Srpska". Even Bosnia is a divided country. I thought I had entered the more Muslim part, especially after a man spat at me and called me satan after I had told him i was from the US ( I am now a Canadian living in Vancouver). But it turned out to be an isolated case....kind of. In Glacko a very nice man told me the locals in the area blamed the US for their problems. Somehow I had left the more Muslim part of Bosnia and was in a more Xtian and Orthodox part. I couldn't tell. Here in Montenegro there is no problem. They are super laid back and great people. But you can really feel the tension in Bosnia.
The mountains during my last days in Bosnia were excellent beauties. What a treat, so 'out there', so remote. Again, no food or water available and even a few more landmine signs. On one ridge flank an impossibly perched Moorish castle ruin sat on a thin fin away from mostly everything. It was one of my favorite castle ruins this trip. No doubt there were more but were destroyed in the civil war.
My goal was to leave Bosnia via a smaller border crossing down a white road. I was told I could find the road by going to this village, finding the bridge, crossing it, turning right, then left and going through the field. Those were my instructions and you know, they worked. But I was out there. And once I got to the border it was in nowheresville. I was super nervous. And then my worst fears became true: they would not let out. Border patrol told me it was a small crossing for locals only, not foreigners. I begged, I pleaded. I got teary eyed. Fortunately both guys were into my whole story. They looked at my map. One even picked up my bag to check the weight and went 'whoa'. They hemmed and talked with each other. Neither could speak english. Eventually, they held their hands over their faces ( I see nothing) and told me to go. But they would not stamp me out and they were not sure Montenegro would let me in. I held my breath and went forward.
The border patrol in MN was so cool. He was watching some Discovery channel show about the brain. He took my passport, scanned it, asked which way I was going ( coming or going) and stamped me in. YES! And for the next 40 miles I walked this super remote one lane road with nearly nothing but mountains and the occasional home. It was absolutely wonderful, so silent and still, a car maybe once an hour. And the people living back there were living it like folks had for eons. This one old man was walking down the road all in black with a huge sickle and he looked like death coming for me. His sickle was handmade and worn smooth from use. It felt like Appalacia meets sherpers from Nepal meets Eastern Europe. That road was a gem. There was one rock I sat on near a 3,000 foot pass overlooking a valley with panoramas of the mountains; I was in heaven. Just a few red roof homes nestled in this huge expanse, living the life of one with nature. All I heard was a lone bird in the forest, an ocassional distant cowbell and the wind blowing through the ripe flowering trees around me perfuming the air . I told myself I would sit there until a car came by. Seventy-five minutes later I left, no car had passed.
On my way to the capital, Podgorica, taking back roads, I stopped in Danilovgrad for food and met some wonderful guys. I will be in their newspaper tomorrow. The capital, as well as their second largest city, Niksic, were very small. It has been hard to find the city center. Niksic had three restaurants. Fortunately, a very sweet, young couple helped me navigate getting around. And to avoid a main thoroughfare route the husband took time from his day to walk several miles with me in order to get me on a small backroad that would parallel the busier road heading south. Here in the capital I saw a man riding a wooden cart with his horse down a main street. You get it, right? The people are proud to be Montenegrons but are embarrassed by what they lack. They are, however, trying hard to be a part of the EU. They have a little way to go. And so do I.
I am now down to 29 days. Tomorrow I cross into Albania, head south and then cross W to E from Milot to the border of Macedonia near Debar. I should be there in about 5 days. There is so much more to say but this will have to do for now. I am holding up. Got new shoes in Mostar. The heat has returned after a cool to coldish time in Bosnia. But the humidity is not as bad as Croatia nor are the bugs which were in swarms a few weeks ago.
Time to hit the rod again. I am super excited and motivated to DO IT.
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