Okay. I've Had Enough.

 

 

Time to move again.  Tried to book this place for another week but it was a no go.  Life of a nomad.

Once again, I had the host call a cab for me.  We had to wrestle with GPS in order to find my new digs as all of my texts and calls went ignored.  The car ended up in a dead-ended parking lot with the apparent location near by so I paid the guy and hoofed it the rest of the way.

I arrived at what I thought was the building only to realize that there were no instructions anywhere as to get into the place.  I texted the host again while waiting in the lobby before I started to feel very awkward.  Hauling my junk back down the ramp, I waited on the side of the road.

I knew I was early for my check-in.  It was the usual gap between 10-11 a.m. checkout and a 3 p.m. checkin.  So I waited.  And waited.  Have I mentioned how much I love to wait?  In the hot sun with all my crap and still no contact from the host?  Good times.

I thought maybe the host would send an automated text at my check in time.  But that was at 3:00 and it wasn’t even noon yet.  Great.  Since I had not eaten all morning, I figured I’d find go something.   So with heavy heart and heavy luggage, I dragged everything down to the nearest restaurant for a meal and a wait. 

That is definitely one thing I love about European establishments – they don’t care how long you sit around.  The wait staff won’t even bother you to pay.  I usually have flag someone down to give them my money.

There was a nice beach near the restaurant so when I got tired of sitting there, I went to sit by the water, still waiting for a word from my host.  When 3 p.m. hit, I started to head back to the apartment.  But before I climbed back up that hill, I realized that there was no guarantee that I was even at the right building.  Feeling at a complete loss, on thought kept running through my head.

I am done with Montenegro.

I didn’t even want to stay for another week.  I was ready to just head to the airport.  Instead, I checked on a couple of motels I passed and asked if they could put me up for the night.  Nope. Then I figured to just find something on Booking.com.  That site saved me back in Greece when I was at the airport and had no idea where I was going so I called on it again.  Found a vacancy then flagged a cab.

For once, I actually got someone to stop … but he refused to take me.  He said the place was too close and he could only do rides to the airport.  Sigh.

Guy, I’m exhausted.  I’ve been walking in the hot sun, dragging all my worldly possessions while wondering where I’m going to lay my head for the night.  And my phone battery is dying.  I have money to give you to do your job and you refuse to take it.

I am SO done with Montenegro.

Fine.  Let the weary tourist drag her stuff up yet another hill while dodging cars on the narrow road and hope her battery doesn’t die while using the GPS.  Fortunately, I found the place, the owner was at the gate and sent her sons to get me up the 3 flights of stairs (ugh).  The room was small and clean and the host told me that she and her sons were about to go to the beach and would be back later to collect the money and get a picture of my passport.

While my phone was charging, I called Airbnb support to figure out what to do.  The guy said he’d try to call the host then get back to me.  I headed out for some dinner.   

Sitting in a very loud restaurant, Airbnb called me back.  They hadn’t had any more luck than I had in reaching the hosts.  Since I’d already arranged for a new place, I told him that the only thing he could do for me is give me my money back.  He said no problem.  I did indeed get my refund a few days later.

People complain about Airbnb a lot but I’ve been using them almost exclusively for three years.  This is the first time I’ve had a host ghost me and I’m glad the issue could be resolved so quickly.

Next morning:  you know the drill.  Call me a cab, host lady, so I can get to the next place.  The amiable driver drove us out of the city center and down a back road with nothing but houses on it.  After several wrong turns, asking directions of a woman passing by and calls to a host who actually picked up this time, and we found our way to the house.  You know, the one we originally passed because it was under heavy construction?  Yeah, that’s the place.

Really Montenegro?

The host lived in the private house and rented out the two rooms above his place.  He showed me in … and I realized why this place was so cheap.

Studio, tiny kitchen, a shower stall that’s only half-enclosed.

A bed so low to the ground that I have to climb my way out.  Not a mini-fridge like the last place, a fridge that was also so low that I had to bend over to get anything.  I’m an old lady who’s been sleeping in strange beds for three years – could you cut a sister a break?

Nope.

While the patio is lovely (more grape vines!), I couldn’t spend any time out there because of the constant construction.  The workers used the patio to set up and get to the roof. At one point, they asked me to turn off the air conditioner while they were painting just outside my door.

I’d already figured that this was my last week in the country so I figured to just grin and bear it.  My breaking point came when, after a rare afternoon of quiet, the distinct sound of construction began at the prime hour of 9 p.m. on a Sunday.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  Like it’s not bad enough the place is in the middle of nowhere and was built for a little person, but now I have to message the host to tell them not to start a buzzsaw over my head when I’m about to go to sleep.  Seriously?

The next morning, as I left the apartment to head to the grocery store, one of the men working on the house stopped me.  Speaking no English, he pantomimed driving while smiling at me so I assumed he was offering me a ride.  Thanks, but one, I need the exercise, and two, who are you again?  I’ve seen people hitchhiking in this country but I’m still not comfortable with it (says the person who has regularly used Uber in foreign countries).

After I got back, I encountered the same guy.  He came up the stairs with me to help me get through the ladders and mess that the guys had made.  A few minutes later I heard a knock on the door.  That guy, smiling gray-haired guy, held up a plate covered in a red napkin.  A nice assortment of Montenegrin treats waited beneath.

Does the plate of goodies make up for the noise?  H@ll no.  But it was still a nice gesture.

Despite being close to the airport, I tried to get a bus ticket back to Albania.  From Tivat it’s only about 5-6 hours away for a ticket price of around 50 bucks.  But every time I tried to book a bus, whether late night or during the day, the website kept saying that everything was booked.  Seriously? 

Frustration about all things has been the name of the game for months now.

So instead I booked an overpriced plane ticket through Belgrade again and back to Tirana.  As long as I got out of the country in one piece, it was all good.

Back to Tivat Center

 

Can’t say I was upset about leaving that place.

I do have to note, though, that the host was very nice.  When I asked about a kettle (yep, I’m European now), he not only brought me one but also a coffee machine from one of the other units he rented out.  When I asked about a clothesline, he pointed me to the line used by the family which was located in their lovely garden area. 

That garden was another one covered in trellises and grape vines.  I asked him about harvest time (sometime in September) and did they eat the grapes, use them for wine, or what.  He said the family ate them.  That was surprising to me as there were a lot of grapes.

At the end of my stay, the host was also gracious enough to extend my check-out time as there was no one else scheduled in the place.  He also called a cab and kept in contact with the driver as there was a delay in his arrival.  I still couldn’t recommend the place because of the mold and mosquitos, but I also couldn’t trash the place in a review on the website.  I just thanked him for the hospitality and wished him the best.

After waiting for about an hour for the cab to arrive (at least I had some shade from the fruit trees and it wasn’t too hot), I was off to my next home for the week.  This time I actually did make it back to Tivat proper as I wasn’t eager to pay for another expensive cab ride to get to any other city.  Besides, I knew I’d be leaving the country soon and didn’t want to be too far away from the airport.

The host, like the last couple of places, lived on the property.  He was there to greet me and get my back up the three million stairs to my new place.  Upon opening the door, he immediately detected and odor.  I’d just come from mold central so it took me a minute.  He, however, recognized it as coming from the shower.  His brother soon came up to fix it followed by another brother (3 brothers in total – I asked) carrying a brand-new clothesline.  I was just about to ask for one while brother #1 told me this replaced the one broken by the previous guests.  Well, maybe if it wasn’t one of the plastic ones, it would last longer.  I prefer the metal ones.

Yep.  I’m European now.

Every apartment, in Montenegro in particular, seems to be a trade-off.  I wasn’t eaten alive by mosquitos in this place, but at least the old place had an oven and ample counter space.  It had a full-size fridge as opposed to a mini-fridge -- I do hate mini-fridges.  This place has a decent shower and no smell of mold (the shower was fine after cleaning), but I spent the week wedging myself between the sink and the washing machine just to get to the toilet.

I’m too old for this sh!t.

But again, the location was killer, just a short distance away from Jadranka’s place and even closer to the shops and harbor.  And another thing I’ll note.  This was one of the rare places that had electrical outlets for days.  There was even one outside on the balcony.  Nice.

A Week of Mold and Mosquitos

  

After my most recent debacles with simply getting a cab in Montenegro, I finally learned my lesson.  If a host tells me to just message them with any issues, I got an issue for you.

I shot the host the message as I was packing up.  She soon knocked on my door and we both took a seat as she called the cab company.  The last driver had given me his card and I’d given the number to her but no one was available.  She called another dude, translated cost, and helped me get the bags to the curb.

I’d managed to find another place in Tivat and let the cabbie know where we were going.  Or at least that’s what I thought.  My GPS and his were giving two different areas for the new place.  Eventually we just pulled over in a bakery parking lot while I called the host.

Now for a little geography lesson.

Risan is about 15 miles from Dobrota/Kotor and that area is about 15 miles from Tivat Center.  Problem was, this was not the only area that considered Tivat.  We ended up having to go in the opposite direction of the area I was used to, past the airport, and onto the part of Tivat Municipality that could be seen from Porto Montenegro.  Okay.  Seeing more of the country than I’d intended.

The host and the cabbie had to have one more conversation before we reached the right place.  This was another private residence with an apartment beneath the main house that they had rightly named the Underdeck.  The host was waiting just outside to help with my bags.

Now, admittedly, this place looked like the pictures.  I’ve never really had a listing with Airbnb that was a poor representation of a place.  It’s a studio, which I hate, but the place was cheap and was in a familiar area or at least that’s what I’d assumed.  No microwave but, like the last place, a stove and plenty of counter space.  Those were the good things.

What the pictures don’t convey is that the entire place slopes down towards the bathroom.  I spent the whole week stumbling around like a drunk because the floor kept putting me off balance.  Additionally, it turns out the apartment is a mosquito spawn point.  As many as I killed, another one just appears out of nowhere and none of them were drawn to the pretty blue light I bought months ago just to kill them.

The doorway is crooked and difficult to lock, the dining room chairs are so creaky I was afraid to sit in them, and the mold smell persists even with the air purifier and air fresheners, particularly when the cabinets are open.  The damp also explains the mosquitos and the fact that when I put my dirty pair of jeans on the floor of the tiny laundry room in the bathroom, they ended up soaking wet by the time I put them in the wash.

And speaking of the bathroom.  Here we go again.  At least the place in Kotor had a shower curtain.  This shower area, despite the spa feel with the flooring and shelf of soaps and body wash, was completely open to the rest of the bathroom.  The washing machine was behind its own door but the rest of the bathroom was ripe for a soaking every time I took a shower. 

Sigh.

I ended up spending a great deal of time in that apartment as there was not much else to see in this part of Tivat.  The beach was only accessible after a long walk in the hot sun and navigating a bunch of sloping streets between apartment building.  The grocery store was close but not much else.

I did eat at a place called Restoran Picnic that did indeed have a picnic theme with its wooden chairs and tables covered in red and white checked tablecloths.  And no, the irony did not escape me of being a black American woman eating in a restaurant in Montenegro while listening to American soul music and recalling the origin of the word “picnic” (look it up in case you need a reminder that everything in the U.S. is based on racism).

Anywho, I got way too many bug bites while trying to work in a sloping apartment full of damp.  And, being on the ground floor, I had to contend with the host and his family constantly walking by my kitchen window because I couldn’t close the blinds

Eh.  I’ve stayed in worst places.

***

I still hate that YouTube shows too many commercials in this country.  But they also show local videos on occasion and I found one that I wasn’t rushing to skip through.  I have no idea what this guy is saying but I ain’t gonna lie -- I kinda dig it.  A little bit of Montenegrin flavor for you.

A Brief Stay in Risan

The week in Dobrota/Kotor went by quickly.  Wouldn’t miss the apartment, but getting work done on that balcony with that view … sigh.

But I would remain in the country.  The place has views for day so it was just time to find the next one.

Prices get weird for rentals this time of year.  It’s the high season with plenty of people flocking to the beaches and tourist traps.  The cheapest place I could find nearby was a good twenty minutes away by car.

Nearby Kotor was crawling with cabs so I figured it be easy to catch one even on this less traveled road.  I figured I could call one once I left the apartment.  Nope.  Despite having a local SIM card and calling a local number, I kept getting a recorded message saying that I didn’t have enough ‘points’ to make a call.  What does that even mean?

Sigh.  I’ve already mentioned how much trouble I’ve had getting a cab in this country.  Now without the option of calling one, I started walking towards Kotor and hoped to flag one down.  Twenty minutes later, hot and sweaty (again) a guy finally pulled over without me having to flag him down.  We were soon on our way – traveling back down the same road I’d just spent dragging all my crap in the hot sun.  Are we having fun yet?

Once again, there was only one road carved into the side to the mountain to get to the city of Risan.  Plenty of breathtaking views of the bay and the tiny islands that tourists could visit.  In no time, the driver said we’d arrived.  He pulled over into a gas station to get directions and after a brief detour to the local hospital, we managed to find the right place.

My host greeted me at the door and helped me get inside.  The rental appears to be a guest house behind a gate with a lovely courtyard separating it from the main house where the host lived. 

Another odd setup.  Not a studio but a kitchen/dining/living area smashed together with the bathroom off the large bedroom.  Definitely a better bathroom than the last place and the oven was much appreciated.

The host, who didn’t speak much English, let me know by phone that she would need my passport.  Not an unusual request and there are some hosts who need to take a picture.  She caught me off guard though by saying she’d need to take it for about 20 minutes to get it photocopied.  I was not comfortable with giving up my passport even for a minute but reluctantly agreed.  It’s not like I didn’t know where she lived.

I unpacked while she was away.  Once my doc was safely back in hand, I decided to explore the town.  But first I had to navigate my way down a Portugal-style hill to get to the main road.  I sighed knowing that going down that bad boy wasn’t the problem.  It was going back up, in a country-wide heatwave, while lugging groceries and water.  Wow.  Really looking forward to that.  Fortunately, Idea, one of the local grocery chains, is located at the base of the hill.

There’s not much to the town of Risan, just a few shops and restaurants with homes behind them and the bay in front.  Some ancient buildings are nestled in the nearby park.  There’s a couple of restaurants perched over the water and a decent sized beach located right next to them.

I spent the week amazed again about how little the Montenegrins paid attention to me as an outsider.  Like I said, the town is tiny.  Everybody knows each other and the place gets far fewer tourists than Kotor or Tivat.  And yet people barely noticed me.  I had one cashier at the grocery store ask me where I was from but that was pretty much it.  I do love that about the country.  I don’t expect to be embraced with open arms by any place but I do appreciate not being regarded like an alien.  They mind their business and so do I.

Mostly I think they just don’t have the energy to pay anyone any mind.  They have to save all their strength for going up that hill of 1,000 steps.

Kotor, Montenegro

 

Welp.  Time to leave yet another great apartment. 

I’m not even going to complain this time since it’s my fault I’m still nomadic.   The only reason I’m trying to spend three months in Montenegro is because I’m a chicken.  I had every intention of staying in Albania for a full year as you can do that with an American passport.  But … the logistics were freaking me out.  I want to get an apartment and a bank account and inform the government that I want to work remotely in the country.  I was afraid I was doing it wrong and wasn’t sure who to contact and argh.

I’m going to figure it out. Tons of people before me have done it so I know I can do it too.

In the meantime, it was the usual routine.  Get out of the apartment with all my stuff and after a quick breakfast, try to flag down a cab.  Uber still doesn’t exist in Montenegro and I haven’t figured out the bus system.  The buses are pretty slow and unreliable anyway, it’s hot in the country (not as hot as the rest of Europe, but still), and I just wanted to get the transfer done as quickly as possible.

Or not as the cabs repeatedly ignored me.  I got tired of waiting by the main road and decided to walk to the taxi stands that were in the center of town.  And boy, was that fun.  Sidewalks here are sporadic and sometimes badly damaged.  The heat was made even worse by the extra effort and my growing annoyance.  Several rest stops along the way and I kept getting ignored by cabs.

I finally walked the full mile to an official taxi stand, sweating bullets as my colder groceries melted through my trusty Pingo Doce bag, only to find the stand abandoned.  Yeah.  I don’t want to do this anymore.

A taxi did eventually appear and the guy agreed to take me the 10 or so miles to Kotor.  Now, much like in Tivat, there’s only one road in and out of Kotor.  So, as could be expected, traffic got increasingly heavier as we approached the city.  Even at noon on a Monday, it was bad.  I can’t imagine what rush hour looks like here (if there is such a thing).

We spent most of the time stuck in a dark tunnel just sitting.  When we exited and made our way through town, I quickly realized why the place is such a tourist draw.  This place is so gorgeous I can’t get over it.  And I thought Tivat was pretty with all the flowers and green everywhere and the mountains surrounding the bay.  But Kotor takes it to a whole new level.

My new home for the week wasn’t actually located in Kotor, but just past it in the city of Dobrota.  My cab driver had spoken directly to the host as the place is hard to get to and I’d soon find out why.  The host came to meet me and help me get all my crap down a steep, rocky driveway, down some ancient stone steps, and up even more stairs to get to the apartment.

And I understood why the place was so cheap.  I still do not like studios.  They’re too cramped and this place was no exception.  At least the other ones had a proper seating area and not just this one recliner.  But it was available and I wanted to visit other cities while in the country.

As for the bathroom … I think I’ve mentioned once or twice my many issues with European bathrooms.  But what in the bad design is this?

Why on earth would anyone think it was perfectly fine to have the entire bathroom be the shower?  Even with the curtain closed, the toilet is right next to the shower head.  It was a contortion trick just to keep the water from hitting it.  Just … why?

And because the window was open before I even got in the place (no screens, of course) I spent the week being dive-bombed by mosquitos.  Sigh.

But there was one big draw to the place.

On the balcony I shared with the British family that moved in about an hour after I did, was a table set up with a view of the bay framed with grape vines.  Gotta love Montenegro.

It was a long, hilly, scenic journey to the water, about a 10-minute trip.  Like Tivat, the shore is dotted with tiny beaches of various sizes with the biggest being the closest to the apartment.  Heading down the narrow one-way street that line the shore, there a couple of restaurants along with a small convenience store.

My first full day in the apartment I took a walk along the main street back towards Kotor.  It’s not the greatest walk in the world, more cracked sidewalks when there are sidewalks at all.  I got to a point where the sidewalk just disappeared and travelling along the busy road became increasingly dicey.  Fortunately, a lady was walking behind me and made a detour to the left behind a building.  Figuring she knew something I didn’t, I decided to follow.  Sure enough, the sidewalk continued behind the building and over a bridge beside the street.  In no time I was in Kotor proper after about a 1 ½ mile walk.

Restaurants, vendors, a great park, lots of vibrantly colored flowers and tourists for days.  The ancient part of the city, on the UNESCO world heritage list, sits behind these gates.

It reminded me of Budva with the same windy walkways through the shops and restaurants. 

After three years spent mostly in Europe, I have embraced the slower pace of life here.  Two-hour lunch breaks are awesome.  If you want to sit in a café for hours over a single cup of coffee, no one blinks.  The waitstaff won’t try to rush you off so they can get in more customers, they won’t pester you to buy more food.  They just leave you to stare at nothing if that’s what you feel like doing.  I very much love that.

But if I don’t work, I get no pay.  The last six months have felt completely consumed with my transcription job.  It’s frustrating and often upsetting as these are court cases where no one’s having any fun.  And it doesn't pay much.  But, after being so focused staring at a computer, maybe I can take a little bit of a vacation.  Radical concept but … Kotor is really pretty.

I took one day to go to the beach.  Bathing in the bay was so lovely I could imagine for a while that the world wasn’t falling apart.  Watching all the Montenegrin kids playing around me made me think of how awesome it must have been to grow up surrounded by all this beauty.  Sure, you’d have to deal with all the smelly tourists roaming around, but it seems a small price to pay to have access to the bay whenever you want.

A Few Notes on Tivat

 

Tivat is just as pretty as I remember.  When I visited it last in 2024 it was during a rainy autumn for a couple of weeks.  Now it’s spring and heading into summer and the entire city is in bloom.  Flowers everywhere, (mostly) sunny days, and the weather is still pretty mild because of the lovely mountains.  This is the view from my balcony.

As beautiful as it is here, I have to say that I do miss some things about Albania.  Montenegro still doesn’t carry my pills but I did buy enough to last while I was in Tirana.    Shopping options are greatly limited unless you can afford Fendi and Balenciaga.  Food is cheap, but I miss the beauty supply store for my haircare (not as many products in Tivat).  I really miss the lack of commercials on YouTube in Tirana.  It is beyond annoying to see so many A.I. generated ads promoting A.I.  It’s just an ouroboros of irritation and despair. 

And then there was the earthquake.

About a week and a half into my stay, I was sitting on the couch, working, when the entire apartment began to tremble.  I initially thought someone was driving by while playing their music too loudly.  Nope.  The very earth was shaking.  It only lasted a few seconds but still ...

I don’t like when the earth moves.  Makes me nervous.

Despite those issues, this is still a nice place.  I’d booked the apartment for a month, then extended it for another two weeks as it was available.  When I let the host know, she asked me if I needed anything.  I requested a new set of sheets whenever she had a minute.

She messaged me the next day saying she’d see me in an hour if traffic wasn’t too bad.  An hour? Tivat is a tiny town in a tiny country.  There is nowhere in the city that will take you an hour to get to, I don’t care how bad traffic is.

I told her not to go to the trouble, that I could just wash the sheets myself.  She said she had other business as well so she would see me.  Okay.

When she arrived, she quickly handed me the bag of linens.  Then she had handed me another bag while holding up her phone.  She doesn’t speak English so she had already typed out a note for me.  She owns a farm and the second bag was full of a huge bunch of gorgeous spring onions, some loose greens, and a dozen eggs. 

Nice!  Jadranka is vying to be one of my favorite hosts.  I’m a sucker for free food.

I’ve seen reports that a carton of eggs in the States has reached up to $20.  I can’t tell you how happy I was to get some free ones. 

Huh.  A white egg.  I remember those.  I think I prefer brown eggs now.  With the occasional feather on them.  Does that mean I’m European now?

I thanked her for the food but knew she couldn’t understand me (yet another time when I really wish I spoke a local language).  I made sure to send her a note through Airbnb.

In the first few days of June, I continued to enjoy the city when I started to notice something peculiar.  The place was suddenly crawling with cops.

I noticed the cop car blocking off my street when I went to the store one day and just brushed it off.  Venturing further into the city the next day in search of food (more on that later) I realized that the whole city was overrun by the boys in black.

It was eerily quiet on my walk to the café and it really struck me.  Cities aren’t loud – cars are loud.  That’s a sentiment borrowed from my favorite urban development YouTuber, Not Just Bikes.  Boy, was he right.  The only thing I heard on my walk was the chirping of birds and the occasional human voice.  Funny how your senses sharpen when they’re not being overloaded with noise pollution.

I walked to the local Ma Cherie, the only one I know of in the city though I’m very familiar with the chain as they are all over Tirana.  I chose this place because I kept seeing ads for Japanese pancakes.  I’d watched videos on how difficult it was to make them and finally decided to give them a try. 

While I waited for 25 minutes (Japanese pancakes are tricky even for people who know what they’re doing), I had an excellent view of a gaggle of cops on the nearby intersection.  They kept pedestrians off the main road to the bay while allowing black cars to travel along the route.  A very loud helicopter kept circling the area as I whipped out my phone to find out what was going on.  Turns out there’s a big summit being held in the city, hence the amped-up security on this sunny Friday morning.  Huh.

The pancakes were delicious.  A mix of mildly sweet pastry coupled with eggy goodness and savory bacon (and sour cream because the Montenegrins serve it with everything.  Good thing I love sour cream.)  And oh so jiggly!  I highly recommend.

One Night in Belgrade

 

Fast as lightning, another three months have passed.  I swear, time is going by so fast it’s leaving skid marks in the air.

I didn’t want to leave that comfy apartment.  Didn’t want to leave Tirana.  I still love whenever I spot a new mural on a building like the one above.  But since I still haven’t gotten my visa situation figured out, I needed to leave.  But where to go?

Instinct, of course, said to head back home to Portugal.  Except there’s a problem.  A problem I’ve been tracking for months now.  My beloved Portugal is becoming way too expensive.

I realize that we’re heading into the high season for visiting the country, but there’s been a serious boost in price even from last year.  It’s bad enough I can’t get anywhere near Madeira because they want $1,000 or more for a single week’s stay, but even returning to Portimão is out of the question.  They wanted $2,500 for a month’s stay in any of my favorite haunts.  As much as I want to walk on a beach again (one of Tirana’s only faults is that it’s not close enough to the ocean) I am not paying Portimão prices for the privilege.

I looked around briefly at prices in various locations and all the data told me to either return to Cyprus (holding onto that location in case I spend yet another winter on the road) or return to a nice apartment I remember from 2 years(!) ago.  Being both available and still affordable, I guess it’s back to Tivat, Montenegro I go.

But first, a last gift from Tirana.  I mercifully managed to avoid the bees this time (thank goodness) and instead had some good news at the airport.  There was a new addition to the airport’s passport control.  Now for certain passports, including the U.S., they now have automated gateways.  I got to skip the sizable line for an agent and zip through customs in about two minutes.

Tirana continues to be INSANELY convenient.  I kinda love it.

My first time using Air Serbia and I was less than impressed.  Ticketing took forever for some reason that had nothing to do with me having to transfer some weight from my big bag before it could be checked.  Getting on the plane also took a while, not counting the bus ride to the plane.  The airline made everyone check their carry-ons and leave them on the tarmac before climbing the narrow stairs into the small plane.

An hour and 45 minutes later and we landed in Belgrade about 20 minutes late.   But I still had to go through security … and got pinched.  My bags and me.  It took a few minutes to get the all clear only for me to realize that my next flight was already boarding.   On the other side of the freaking airport.

I’m too old for this.

Even without my large bag, I struggled to run through this unfamiliar airport on the way to Gate C11.  Gate 8, Gate 9, almost there.  Gate 10 … Gate 10A, Gate 10B, Gate 10C -- are you kidding me?!

Serbians are sadists!

And that opinion was confirmed when I finally reached Gate C11 only to find the gate agent leaving.    “Boarding is done.  Go to the transfer desk.”  Where the hell is that?  You’re not even going to tell me, are you?  You're just going to walk away.  Great.

Shoulders slumped, I headed back down the same hall looking for the desk.  Right around Gate C1, I found the mercifully empty desk and told the woman my plight.  She got me booked for a new flight at the lovely hour of 6:40 am the next morning.  Then she told me to wait until they got more customers so they could get us to a nearby hotel.

Joy.

After an hour wait, a German couple joined me and the guy who had arrived at the desk before me to follow a desk agent to the transport desk.  She raced us through the airport to baggage claim where I could at least pick up my bag.  Then she led us to the transport desk.

As I was lugging all my crap after the ticket agent and the three younger travelers, I was feeling every one of my 55 years.  I was slow and tired, my joints were aching and I just wanted the day to be over.  But no.  There was still more waiting at the transport counter.  The only update we got was when the original desk agent left and we were told to wait for a new chick to arrive.

When she did, she led us through even more of the airport to wait for the shuttle.  The first thing you spot upon getting outside is this … thing.

I initially thought it was made of metal but that is actual crochet over a metal skeleton.  In bright pink.  Interesting.

We got onto the shuttle and headed to the hotel.  After all the waiting and the ‘spectacular’ service at the airport, I didn’t have high hopes for this last-minute accommodation.  All during the ride, I kept thinking, “Please don’t be a dive.  Please don’t be a dive.  Please don’t – why are we passing through a security gate?  What is this building?  What is  --

 

What the …

 

What?

 

Hold up.  This isn’t a dive.   

The Crown Plaza is a seriously nice hotel.  The desk agent explained how to use my dinner voucher, told me that a box lunch would be waiting in the morning, and that the transport would be ready for us at the ripe hour of 4:00 a.m.  Oy.

But I’d have access to the spa and the heated indoor pool during my 12-hour stay.

 

Does this make up for the mad dash to my gate or having to wait for two hours before getting here?  No.  But this is still a nice hotel.

Over engineered in that it took me several minutes to realize that the light switches were part of this panel.  Dude, I just wanted to go to the bathroom without needing an engineering degree.  And whoever designed the place with a slight step up into a bathroom that’s directly across from a mirror so you can watch yourself on the toilet needs to rot in hell.

Still, I had a meal (mediocre and cold) and a decent few hours of sleep before waking at the butt crack of dawn.  The box lunch was delivered as promised and was more than I expected.  If you ever happen to find yourself in Belgrade, check this place out.  Be sure to hit the pool area since I didn’t have time to take a dip.