June 1, 2024

I sit in SIP cafe in downtown Podgorica, just barely sober enough to write. I just walked here from the Mall of Montenegro, where I was looking to add to my ugly country hat collection. Not only was I successful, but (to my delight) I was also able to add to my other favorite collection: knock off Calvin Klein undies. Today, Ghlain Klain joins Kalvim Kleim, Cvtmil Klompf, and Off Yellow in the annals of knock-off history. After my successful shopping trip I grabbed lunch at the mall tavern, where I was enthusiastically greeted by Sani, a 64 year old Montenegrin man who was really happy to meet someone from America who appreicated his country. As soon as he learned that I was American, he gestured to the rapidly blushing young woman right next to him, saying something like “my daughter, very beautiful! Well she’s not my daughter, she’s his daughter, but still! Maybe you take her  back to America?” She fled the scene pretty quickly, probably to everyone’s benefit(I’m not sure if she was redder in the face or I). Sani got a real kick out of my travel and working, and we both agreed that i am incredibly lucky. He told me about a time he took a ferry to Bari when he was 19. He got seasick on the ride over and his first stop was the apoteka (apothecary/pharmacy). He mimed to the Italian pharmacist that he had been at sea and was feeling sick, and was swiftly provided with Dramamine. Taking it, he slept like a baby. Sani offered me a cigarette, joking that it was marijuana (he made sure I wasn’t mad that he made this joke after, I assured him I wasn’t), saying that he harvested and chopped the tobacco himself, as well as rolling it in a machine. Though I’m working with a small data set, it  was the best cigarette I’ve ever had. He worked in the aluminium industry for 30 years and has been on pension since 2011. His best friend has been on pension since 2007, and was also the manager of the pub, and was also sitting right next to us.  He might have been the young woman’s father, I’m not sure. Sani told me that this was not the best restaurant in Podgorica, but it was probably in the top 5. You have to respect the honesty. Sani was friend with the owner, manager, and the shop owner across the walkway. Some combination of these gentlemen bought me about a liter of beer which I did my best with over the course of the giant meal I ordered by mistake (mixed meat platter, fries, salad, and bread). I’m just shaking off the buzz they delivered to me as I type now. I asked Sani what he thought of the Montenegrin economy and politics, and he told me all he cares about is meeting good men like me, not what people think or their identity. Some of our conversation was dutifully translated by Bogdan, a tooth-braced youth who bore the burden of English speaking with grace. Sani made sure I got his phone number so that next time I come to Montenegro, I can call him if  I need anything, and if he can’t help, I should know that he’s very sorry.

 After an hour and a half or so, I bade them farewell, grateful for all I have described and a dozen other conversations and tidbits already escaped from my memory. I am glad that I was, while sitting there, able to take a step back and just be grateful for the super weird moment I was finding myself in. What luck I have to be inside the odd experience of betting beer-hammered at 2pm in Podgorica with a couple of 60-something ex-aluminium manufacturers who think I’m just a riot of an idea. I hope it was as fun for them as it was for me

After many handshakes and farewells, I retraced some of my steps from earlier today. My hostel is far in the north of town, so I walked south for a while, through the cute downtown, around old town, soaking in the sight of a few mosques, as well as a locally iconic stone bridge spanning the Ribnica, whose water flows a nearly emerald green. I went up to Orthodox Temple of Christ’s Resurrection, the city’s main church, which is hewn from giant rough white stones and decorated almost violently with gold inside.  I arrived last night and hiked from the bus station for an hour or so to the hostel, where I got an early night. 

Yesterday was spent primarily in bus, starting in Sarajevo around 7am, stopping around Bosnia and northern Montenegro. The main story of the say was a 2.5 hour stop in Kotor, a big town in the furthest inland cranny in the Bay of Kotor. There you can find a scrumptiously cramped and quaint old town, with perhaps the starkest and most defined boundaries of old-town tourism and new-town gritty life I’ve ever seen. There were a few cruise ships parked in the bay which made for a sharp contrast with the towering stony mountains that define the edges of the coppery bay. I met some Americans from the cruise there, pretty interesting, they fit some of the American tourist stereotypes I’ve been hearing so much about. 

This post has a wonky chronology! Too bad for you. I left Belgrade on Monday night. See below post. The overnight bus was nothing to really remark about, outside of a lack of great sleep, and an oddly sharp memory of a late night urinal that smelled strongly of salsa(?), as well as the cold (see your breath cold!) border crossing that lasted about 1:45-3am. Who knows, those overnight busses are always a fever dream. I arrived in Sarajevo around and made my way to the hotel that Dr. Lee’s group of students was staying at, finding my friend Nick’s room (the assistant from last year), catching up for a little bit before napping off the bus ride. I found a cafe to do my day’s work, finishing up before meeting back up with Nick, Dr. Lee, and some of the students. It was a really chill day, and nice to see Sarajevo. It was odd to have been there just one week ago, as well as one year ago. The night was calm. The next morning was another early one, taking the train to Mostar again. What a treat! That day I wandered around Mostar slowly, taking in lots of sun, gorgeous sites, cevapi, and new friends on this year’s dialogue. I was nervous about feeling like an intruder in their group (the dialogue is a total social experiment and I’m loathe to provide any confounding variables, but again, they are getting so many of those anyways in the form of all external stimuli, how am I any different?) (for readers outside the Northeastern Uni community, a dialogue is one of these month long programs where you travel in a group and study with a professor). However I had a blast, going out with the group and making a bunch of friends in just a couple days. It’s been a challenge to dunked so suddenly into a warm community, then plucked back out with equal suddenness, but I’m grateful for the time I had meeting them anyways. 

The next day was rainy, but I did a hike with one of the students on the trip, having some excellent conversation and getting only mildly soaked. I got lunch with the group, and a bit late delivered my presentation on Otpor!, CANVAS, my work there, and some of the CANVAS core curriculum. It was pretty nice to be facilitating again, and the group was pretty engaged. It was really a privilege and an honor to be invited to contribute to the program. I caught my bus to Sarajevo that night, and the rest is somewhere above, scattered in some order. 

The reserve of sleep, hydration, sobriety, and nutrition that I built up in Belgrade has been mildly depleted, so I’m planning on taking it super easy for the next few days, my last in the Balkans. This way I’ll hopefully arrive in Asia full of energy and presence. Tomorrow I’m headed to Tirana, Albania, maybe to some beaches the day after, and then Athens after that for my flight. Crazy how you plan shit and then it happens eventually!