Tag Archives: wanderlust

Montenegro – views of Kotor and Perast

31 May 2020 My Beautiful Places Leave a comment

Where else can you wake up in one country, have breakfast in another and dine in a third one, without having to hop in a plane?! My beloved Europe…

We set off at daybreak, while Dubrovnik was still sleepy. Rain heavy clouds were delaying the morning, announcing what vacationers fear the most during summer holidays: a rainy day.

We were a large group of people from everywhere with a too talkative guide for that early hour. And it was raining, having me wander how this birthday will develop. In spite of the wether forecast and the sky confirmations I had a 10 years old tradition to keep: every birthday spent in a new place.

Perast – the town by the lake

Rain must have taken a breakfast break by the time we reached Perast.

The small town appeared like a beautiful surprise, surrounded by mountains partially hidden behind low misty clouds, mirroring its old facades and high tower in the calm lake. Small drops were still playing naughty as I first step on the sidewalk, by the lake. My first impression, as I walked away from the people to take a look, was that, there, in Perast, the melancholy of old times meets gracefully the peace of small villages built by a lake, where the freshness of mornings lasts till dusk. Perast was in that morning, at the end of July, a quiet retreat from the mad crowds of tourists. We were the first to cross the lake in small boats, towards the small island in the middle of the lake, called Our Lady of the Rocks, known by locals as Gospa od Skrpjela. A placed build by bulwark of rocks and sinked old ships loaded with rocks and raised from the waters of the lake by a legend. More then 5 centuries ago, in 1452, when two brothers, both fishermen, were coming back home and found an icon of the Virgin with Christ on the sea-cliff in the middle of the lake. They took it from the water and bought it home. Next morning, the icon was no where to be found. By wonder, it appeared again, on the same sea-cliff, so the brothers took it home this time too. The same unexplainable happened – the icon disappeared and reappeared on the sea-cliff. And so people of Perast understood this was s sign from above and started throwing rocks in the water until a small islet was formed where they built a small church dedicated to the found icon of the Virgin, the patron saint of seafarers and fishermen. And what can be better then a beautiful legend in a beautiful place…

The views from the island were idilic, with the small Perast and the mountains now cleared by a few rays of sun. The rain was gone for now.

Kotor – the OMG views

The road to Kotor offered amazing views. Montenegro was so gifted! The bay started contouring its shape, among mountains and small towns where tinny beaches were hidden like secrets known by locals only. It was raining again cats and dogs and everything you don’t wish in a day with plans like I did: seeing one of the most photographed places in Europe.

The first think I saw once I arrived in Kotor was… a cruise ship, a floating town that seemed as tall as the mountains around. Anyone knows that this means crowds occupying all the tinny streets of a small town. Even though the access of these ships is been highly restricted by authorities in Kotor, the tsunami of tourists descending from such an enormous ship at once is a huge challenge. I was so relieved I wasn’t a drop of that tsunami. I will never be, my idea of sailing and seeing beautiful places is the opposite of all that a cruise ship can offer.

In a day where every 30 minutes we had a pouring shower, I was already doing exercises opening and closing my umbrella. Such a useless object during the heavy rains.

We got a break from the rain in front of the Sea Gate, one of the 3 entrances in the old town of Kotor. The other two are River Gate and South Gate. The visit started with a nice to have tour of the main attractions inside Stari Grad (Old City) of Kotor and a local guide shared a few informations about the town that dates back to the Roman times, being first mentioned in 168 BC. The Main Square (Trg od Oružja) of Stari Grad was the first we found, the moment we entered the gate. With an impressive Clock Tower guarding the place since 1602, this was the beginning of a trip back in time. If you’ll close your eyes for a sec, open them again after and try to ignore the way people are dressed, you’ll be right there, hundreds of years ago, wandering the already old streets of the town by the bay.

The tour with the guide was over so I was free to wander the town. A charming maze of cobbled streets opens from many points inside the Main Square and takes the wanderer to the Cathedral of Saint Tryphon (Kotor Cathedral), to the Bazaar, passing by old little churches, houses, shops. You’ll smile when you’ll get totally lost inside this labyrinth, cause for sure you will, and you’ll find, just by chance, the Cats Museum. Or a small passage that looks so picture perfect.

The rain started again, right the moment when I was leaving the cathedral. So I stopped on its stairs for a well enjoyed episode of people watching. Minutes were passing and the rain has turned into a serious storm: wind gusts, heavy drops, curtains or rain, thunders and dark clouds. I wouldn’t mind it so much down there, but I had plans: the best view of Kotor can only be seen from the top, on the mountain behind the city, climbing the way up to Kotor Fortress. I was checking the time every 3 minutes, and the sky every 2 minutes, looking for a bright spot that could signal that the rain will soon stop. Nothing… and the minutes were pouring like rain drops. One hour was left before we had to leave Kotor, for good. I needed about one hour to go all the way up and then down and find the Sea Gate. The square in front of the cathedral was deserted, all the people have vanished, hidden from the rain.

It’s now or never, I thought when I had the impression the drops were becoming lighter. The rain has emptied the streets, keeping people inside, but also turned the old cobbled pavement into a true rink where every step was a change to slip and fall.

I took a ran on the empty streets, asking for directions twice from a few shops owners. I found the gate, payed the fee while the man there was surprised to see someone would adventure there while it was still raining.

I used the narrow steps made of stones and build next to the wall, the only way I could walk there in my flip flops. I thought to go barefoot but I was afraid I could cut myself. Happily I meet only 3-4 people descending and I could keep using the steps. The slippery wide slope next to the steps was a no way, a guaranteed fall.

The last drops of rain have left the clouds whiter and the sky as now spreading a fresh light. Slowly the terracotta roofs became visible, a few more steps the bay started to grow, offering amazing views. It was a struggle to go all the way up on those slippery stones, wearing flip-flops, but I got there, at the Church of Our Lady of Remedy. It’s half the distance to the Fortress but I was more then pleased. The iconic views of the Bay of Kotor developed in front of me, with mountains, heavy clouds, the Adriatic Sea, now like a silver bay contrasting the shades of the roofs. So Instagrammable perfect! I took my time to take all that view in, enjoy it to its every detail. Three people only were there besides myself. We owned the panorama. of the bay.

Then I said a prayer hoping I won’t break my legs on the way down and started the ordeal once again, grabbing the slippery stones of the wall and trying hard to keep my balance every time I met other people that wanted to go up using the same tinny slippery stairs. Thank God, I arrived back safe, with nothing broken, just a few scratches on my hand, probably from the wall and a slight muscles pain from the effort. But my memories were worth it!

Seeing the tens of people that were waiting in line to pay for the access ticket at the entrance was a relief. The rain had stopped so the crowds were now pouring again.

Passing by local tinny shops with treats like olives, dried figs, raspberry or blackberry wines or the famous rakija, the local distilled fruit liquor next to fish, prosciutto or many other cured meats and of course the mouth watering selection of by absolute temptation – cheese. I realised I was starving. I gave up to a slice of pizza and as if the the pizza boy knew everything, I got a huge slice covered in plenty of delicious cheese. A treat that made possible one last walk on the little streets of old Kotor, where thousands of tourists were now testing their balance on the slippery stones of the pavement.

– Did you manage to… oh nooo, you did it! But it was still raining…

My smile was saying everything about my walk above Kotor, the one I was asking about since the very first hours of that morning. I showed my photos to the group. The majority of people were discouraged by the rain and sane enough not to take that risk. But I got to see the view. I got to see Kotor. A place I want to come back, in a sunny day.

Next: Dubai and Abu Dhabi

Croatia

Croatia – Plitvice Lakes and so much more

16 May 2020 My Beautiful Places 2 Comments

The narrow path was going up. Every person in front of me was like an obstacle meant to slow me down. I was trying to be as polite as someone in a desperate hurry can be. I was literally running and sweating but the worse was that I had no idea if the direction was right. At one point people became very rare obstacles. I looked down from the edge of the cliff and the view was spectacular, a row of people was crossing the long wooden bridge above the turquoise water of the lakes and a big high curtain of waterfalls was opening in front of them. All in a beautiful green scenery painted in all shades. A few seconds for a photo I’ll always have so I stopped… No faces that I could recognise around. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it. Damn it! I had to admit it, my biggest fear that day has happened: I got lost in Plitvice.

Split, what a nice surprise!

The summer of 2019 have been awarded ever since winter to Croatia. My 10 years old birthday tradition demanded a new place to be enjoyed that summer. Another two reasons were Plitvice Park, present in many tops of the most beautiful places in this world and… King’s Landing. After the fatal and disappointing end of Game of Thrones, I had to see Dubrovnik.

After a short stop in Zagreb, I flew straight to the seaside, to Split. At the end of a short walk from the port, where the bus from the airport dropped me, I easily found my hotel: tinny, basic but cosy, with a little park in front where tall pines were cooling the hot July afternoon air with their dark shade and where cicadas were singing their summer hits, right next to a very fancy and pricey hotel and…. now comes the best part: a few meters away from the beach, one of the most frequented in Split. My booking wasn’t that generous with these precious details and I was terribly happy to have my expectations so exceeded.

A few minutes later I was, of course, already out in the street, ready to start counting many steps on my Garmin bracelet that day. I had a frugal beef salad in one fast food kiosk recommended by my host. Waiting for the sun to be more friendly and less burning, I wandered around, on quiet streets with beautiful old villas with little balconies nicely decorated with flowerpots. I discovered a little church with limestone walls covered with fuchsia bougainvilleas, those flowering factories that I adore. A few palm trees in its yard were making it look so like it was somewhere on the Italian coast…

A late afternoon swim and a lazy time on the beach in front of my hotel assured me that finally my summer vacation was ON. This time made in Croatia.

Evening by the Adriatic in Split

It was amazing to discover that Split was way more beautiful than I imagined. As I walked by the yachts aligned in the harbour and reached the beautiful promenade build in yellowstone and called Riva, the central stage for the city life during the day but mostly after dusk, with restaurants on one side, facing the sea, and palm trees on the other, it was obvious why Croatia is making so much money out of tourism. I couldn’t wish for more in a summer evening at the end of July then one of those places where holiday never seems to end.

I left the lively boardwalk behind and followed a song that seemed to come from a street somewhere in the back. A party? No… The 1700 years old columns from the Diocletian’s Palace, that have seen so much history, were now witnessing a wedding. And as events like this are not always seen in an ancient site, the place was now a huge gathering of tourists and wedding guests where the bride and groom, golding red wine glasses up in their hands, were the main voices of a song that all the guests seem to know by heart. This happiness was so contagious that all the people around were smiling. The toasting continued late into the night as I passed again by the place. An important day was starting early, in just a few hours, so was time to call it a day. A great one!

OMG, Plitvice Lakes

I’m not a morning person. But there are two things in this world that would make me jump out of bed at early hours: a beautiful place I want to see, that I already payed for.

Like Cinque Terre in Italy, like Benaghil, the beach inside the cave in Portugal and like so many other beautiful places I heard about before seeing them, Plitvice was a little obsession. I wanted to get there.

Split at 7am was something I wouldn’t normally enjoy. Fresh and laid back, like all places by the sea in the morning. I arrived at the meeting point 10 min earlier. To avoid the hustle and bustle I payed for a small group tour to take me to Plitvice, 250km from Split.

At about 11am we were in front of one of the entrances in the national park. The parking lot was packed with big buses bringing tourists from all the cities on the coast, also from Dubrovnik and even as far as Zagreb. A few tourists who didn’t had a tour booked and came by themselves were trying to buy entrance tickets. They were told to wait and see, at that hour all tickets were already reserved by the tour operators. The joy of summer high season…

– The authorities had to limit the daily admissions to the park, they had to, the place was too crowded before, our guide told me.

Then, with a little map of the itinerary in the hand, we were directed to the tourist bus. After a short ride, we reached the starting point. I looked at the map… I’m terrible with these things and space orientation in nature. “I hope I won’t get lost here” I thought, thinking about what the guide repeated a few times during that morning, “If you get lost, you’re on your own, we will have to leave at 5pm from the parking lot.” I wasn’t in the mood of socialising but I tried to remember o few of the people in the group by the clothes they were wearing: the tall blond guy in shorts, the Spanish girls, the Indian family…

It started like this:

The more we advanced, the greener and wilder it became. Like an Avatar land of wonder where lakes with the clearest water were either reflecting the trees around or offering perfect views to their depths, where plenty of fish were moving among fallen tree trunks now covered with dark green algae. Swimming was forbidden. The Spanish girls I was with at one point, we couldn’t stop fantasying about a swim in that paradise. The place looked spotless, no track of garbage as if the thousands of people wandering around every day didn’t exist to spoil it. The park was well taken care of.

As we walked deep into this trekking paradise made of a chain of 16 terraced lakes, united by waterfalls, walkways made of wood across the water were offering breathtaking views. My photos took time, I wanted to breath in this place and take my time so I lost sight of any person from the group. I was too relaxed to care and I still had plenty of time to enjoy this:

And this:

The place was becoming crowded and at one point we even got blocked and had to wait for about 30 minutes. The moment I figured out people were actually waiting in line to take a photo in a specific place in front of a waterfall, I went further, outrunning the crowd. I found another spot, even better.

An electric boat inside the Plitvice park links the 12 upper lakes with other 4 lower lakes. By chance I suppose I got to the jetty in the same time as many others from the group. A short boat ride took us to a new starting point, this time to Veliki Slap, a 78m-high waterfall, known as the Big Waterfall, the largest fall in Plitvice and in Croatia. The landscape was constantly changing, from unreal turquoise lakes to forest clearings where the sun rays were sneaking in and again to lakes, this time with light blue shades, with shallow waters where hundreds of fish were swarming in peace right next to the narrow path where, this time, no one else was walking. Such a bliss! For a few minutes I was all alone, sitting in the shade, watching all those fish so close I could touch them and hearing nothing but the birds. I stopped and look around at how wonderful this place could be. Waterfalls everywhere, small and big, solitary or covering an entire wall where water was pouring down noisy on parts covered with vegetation or on rocks. The picturesque landscapes were indescribably beautiful, with picture perfect spots every few meters.

Time was running out and one of the main attractions, the Big Waterfall was close. As if all the people in the busses that morning were gathered here in the very same time, the narrow path leading to the place was very crowded. I saw two women in the group but they were too fast to follow if I still wanted to enjoy the views I was passing buy not running as if I was on a treadmill at the gym, facing a window with nothing to see. I was in a hurry now and I got a few shots from above. It was impossible to stop for more then one second since we were now packed, moving like a human snake formed by hundreds.

I got down only to take a look from the bottom of the fall all the way to its top. A few seconds was all I had. I started running up again, grateful that most of the people were heading down and not up so I could move faster. 30 minutes left to find the parking lot where the bus was waiting. The top view of the Big Waterfall hold me in place for a few seconds in a aww moment.

It was so hot outside. The perfect blue sky from the morning was now turning lighter. The way up was dusty from all the people walking up and down. I got to a crossroads. I made a choice though I wasn’t sure. Then I turned back, took another way. At one point the crowds were far away and I could run. 15 minutes left. Then 10. I thought OMG! Then, one minute later, oh shit! Where the hell was everybody? I saw light, a sign and I was out in a parking lot, a huge one with a few busses. Now which one is ours? I saw an information office and went to ask them. Damn it! it was another parking lot! The one I had to go was down the alley, then turn left, continue straight, then at the sign turn right… the king of answer that can drive one crazy even in a relaxed moment. I ran on the alley back again. 10 minutes passed the meeting hour. I was already thinking wether I will sleep in the woods or beg for a car to take me somewhere, anywhere where I could find public transport. I was desperate but in a way accepting the drama and looking for solutions as I was left alone there. And then, I saw in front the Indian family! They were running too but seemed to be more confident about the direction then I was. I followed them and I finally found the right parking lot, the bus and the guide:

– Why didn’t you called me to wait for you? I waited for your call…

– I didn’t think I will be in time so…. I was barely articulating the words but I was so relieved! I wasn’t going to sleep in the woods that night! And I had all the beauty of Plitvice with me now, as a dear memory.

Right now, as I write this, in my balcony back home, after a month since I have escaped my quarantined big city and returned in my hometown to wait here or better times, these memories are so sweet. From the slopes of a mountain, between two high hills covered with forests and a river, nature has been my comfort where the song of birds have silenced any bad thought and the scent of acacia flowers in bloom makes me grateful for this never expected break from a constant rush and optimistic for the better times to come.

Next: Dubrovnic and Kotor

Jordan

Jordan: The desert wonder of Wadi Rum

8 December 2018 My Beautiful Places Leave a comment

Have you ever slept in the desert? This is a question I wished one day to answer Yes.

From all the movies, stories, documentaries, the Geography classes, the desktop wallpapers, the desert seemed a place of wonders. And as we left Petra in the afternoon, blown away by this place, taking a one last glance from the top, to the immense canyon, I was finally living that very day.

We drove through arid places, where rocks were more often seen than any kind of vegetation. Close by a railway that seemed it was coming from nowhere and going everywhere, shaping its way through the dust. I was sleepy after that intense hike in the heat, in Petra, but I refused to close my eyes.

We got to the desert bedouin camp right in time. 30 minutes before the sunset, just perfect for a sunset chaser like me. In that orange light, the small white tents lined up among palm trees look so wild and cosy in the same time. It was an oasis in the middle of the desert. A green spot on a light tan and brick red colored paint.

In a few minutes, my Australian friend and I got our key. We were offered to share a tent together. We weren’t strangers anymore so this was just fine for both. Ten minutes later we were climbing the narrow path of the big cliff next to the camp, going up to the view point. I dropped a few short glances as we were climbing in a hurry. The view was getting better and better to the point of whoaaa when we finally got on top. “The Valley of the Moon”, as Wadi Rum is often called, was right there, beneath our eyes, changing its tones as the sun was preparing to leave us, hiding behind a mountain far away. This looked as any other planet except Earth. The winds were blowing sands among the sharp cliffs raising in the far. It was a 360 view of wonder that had then became one of my favourite beautiful places. We sit there and admire what nature so masterfully created in one of the most breathtaking sunsets I ever lived. Was one of those moments you wish you were stuck forever, beautiful and peaceful, as daylight was turning dark.

We followed the path once again, all the way down, among the small lamps now lighted. Our bedouin hosts, in black thobes, were finishing dinner for us. Goat meat cooked for many hours in a hole in the ground, covered with wood fire. They called us to assist as the feast was brought out, spreading flavours and making us feel starved. It was delicious, accompanied with many other traditional dishers, humus, of course and the dinner ended with many slices of sweet and cold watermelon. We all ate until no other move was possible except talking. We gather all together, the portuguese couple, the American professor, my friend and I, and under a sky full of stars and a shining full mood we talked about everything, from technology, to Jewish history, to religion, to Vietnam war, climate change, English accents around the world, politics and bad leaders and the beautiful country we were in, Jordan. It couldn’t have been better than it already was.

I fell asleep in the tent, feeling a light fresh air breeze blowing over my nose from outside, listening to all that music of the desert, from birds or other creatures I did not know. Sleeping in the desert is pretty cool, I thought, smiling.

I woke up early in the morning, went out the tent in the freshest morning air. The sun was up and a red air balloon was floating on the blue sky. The big parrots in the cage were up too. It seemed as all the birds in the world were up there, still invisible.

A lazy breakfast with freshly baked pita and amazing meze was there to spoil my senses. Soon after, we were up in the jeeps, driving through the sand dunes and cliffs. Were we on Mars? It looked so. At one point we stopped, the entire ground, as far as I could see, was cracked because of the drought in small shapes almost identical. No trace of sand, only limestone shade ground, trodden by heavy rains and dried by too many days in the burning sun. We drove further until we met a herd of camels. I thought how come they were free there, in the middle of the desert but I noticed they had their feet tight close so they could only move on a small distance. They were moving in a perfect row, one following the other, about 10 or more.

The rocks we drove by had all sort of shapes created by the winds. From a wall perfectly straight, used by the bedouins in the old times to communicate through echo, to a huge mushroom shape, columns and great arches. Through these wonders we arrived to the sand dunes. I never thought before that two different shades of sand can stay so close to one another without mixing each other. But I do believe my eyes and that was in front of me. Our guide even joked about how people are coming during the night to put back every small piece of sand back to where it belongs. He gave a funny look to someone asking in surprise “Really?”

My aussie friend and I were now busy climbing the dunes barefoot, up and down our bums, again and again. I felt both pity and pleasure every time my feet were touching the symmetric winding traces in the sand, leaving foot marks behind.

We drove further and I wished this day would never stop. An open space covered with brick red rocks in different shapes was stretching far as if the entire world was Wadi Rum and nothing but. My friend and I we understand each other in a look. In a short distance, behind a rock, there was the most perfect, high and big sand dune. I saw it the second we got there and I was craving to be on top of it. We felt the rest of the group. My friend started running up, putting a hell of an effort into it. I was only walking fast but it felt as if I was on a treadmill, moving in the same spot. “You gotta run fast, like this” I heard. I ran as fast as I could, now it was working, and when I almost lost my breath, I was up. I lay down on top of the dune, next to the long traces let in the sand by maybe a scorpio and listened. First my heart, still beating fast from the effort, then nothing. Perfect silence. We sit there quiet, nothing was there to be said, but so much to admire. And this was my moment in Wadi Rum. I wanted to save this with all my pores and cells, to keep it as a memory and maybe relieve it with eyes shut when at home, while telling my family and friends about how amazing Jordan is.

We left the desert charmed and head to Aqaba, on the shore of the Read Sea and then passed back to Israel. In Eilat I said goodbye to my now new friends from all over the world and took a group photo together. They were going back to Jerusalem and I was staying by the sea for the next 5 days, (since my Egypt visa had been denied), doing snorkeling among colorful corals, making friends of exotic fish and a huge octopus, sunburning my back really bad and eating dates and humus all day long. Well, I did make human friends though, among them an ex trader of ancient jewels from the Tuareg people in Africa who was risking his life to get there and sell the pieces after to rich collectors in Switzerland.

But right there, in Eilat I discovered another world of wonders, the underwater world. New and fascinating. An experience that led me to other ones three months later, in Malaysia and Indonesia.

P.S. My French teacher died today. To him I owe the pleasure of speaking this language that I love and the delight of so many wonderful conversations in France, Austria, Spain, Israel and even the far Indonesia.

Bon voyage, Monsieur.