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.   

Medical Issues and Making Decisions in Tirana

 

I’ve gotten way too comfortable in this apartment. 

I was thrilled to find this place was available back in February.  My memory of it being the best of the four places I stayed in the city last summer was accurate.   

Just as a reminder, this place has a killer location in the center of the city.  There’s a taxi stand just out front, a pharmacy right next door, and a great place for a cheap, tasty breakfast right across the street.  I’m near enough to the mosque to hear the call to prayer daily and get a great view of the Marriot Hotel in the distance.

I was able to extend my stay for the full three months of this time in Albania.  This will be my longest continuous stay in a single apartment in the last three years.  Once again, I just wasn’t feeling the logistics of heading towards the ocean.  Not that I don’t want to see the coastal cities, but I find myself easily getting into a routine while having longer-term housing.  Yes, I am ready to be in my own place.  I feel like I’m closer to it but … there are still issues.

For the last few months, I’ve been grappling with the changes happening in Portugal.  The switch to the new immigration system and the increased anti-immigrant sentiments are troubling.  Not to mention the fact that I don’t think I can afford it now any more than the locals can.

But Albania might be a better option.  It’s definitely cheaper and I do love Tirana.  I still have to look into the visa options for here and Cyprus, but I think I’m finally ready to let go of Portugal.

For now.

I’m not happy about it.  I do love Portugal, but I have to face reality.  Tirana may just be it.  

And I’ve already made some connection here as I had my first real medical issue on the road.

Sure, I’ve had colds and scrapes over the last three years but those were never enough to prompt me to see a doctor.  Then one day back in March, I could feel the telltale signs of a sinus infection.

I haven’t had a sinus infection in years and when I did, I attributed it to the office building I was working in.  My co-workers often complained about the black soot that would come out of the vents.  It would cover the desks and lead to multiple breathing and ear infection issues.

I’ve always been pretty hardy.  The issues that would travel around the office usually missed me.  Not this time, though.  When I’d never had sinus issues before, suddenly I had two infections in the same year.  The first one was so bad that it spread from one ear to the other and forced me to go to the doctor (something I hate to do).  When the second one hit a few months later, I knew better than to let it go on for so long.

That was at least 7 years ago while I was still employed and living in the U.S.  Now I’m in Albania.  Okay.

(No joke, this building freaked me out when I was here last year.  I kept asking myself "hey, wasn't that red earlier?"  Now I just try to catch it mid-color change.  Somehow, I keep missing it.)

As I said, I haven’t been to the doctor in years.  Bad, I know, but I really didn’t want to deal with the hassle of seeking medical care in a foreign country if I didn’t need to.  I did try to see a doctor last year when I got amla in my eye which made it turn red and bulgy for several days.  The language barrier caught me, though, and I didn’t end up seeing one.

Finding a doctor in Albania was a unique experience.   I realized that, in all my wonderings around the city, I'd never passed by a hospital.  There are plenty of dental office and opticians, but I rarely saw a sign for a clinic or even emergency care (despite the numerous ambulances I hear constantly).

When I found one, I was amazed by how the process was so informal.  You mean I don’t have to give you my family medical history going back five generations?  I don’t have to wait for 20 minutes even though I showed up on time?  I already knew I probably wouldn’t have to show my insurance card (traveler’s insurance with Safetywing) even though I had it loaded on my phone just in case.  I was still surprised that the only thing they asked for was my name (which they spelled differently each time) and my age.  I saw the doctor briefly for an exam then she had me go for an x-ray. 

That was another odd experience as they had me stand up against the now vertical bed with my mouth open. The took the picture, gave me a copy of it, and sent me back to the doctor.  She said the infection was only starting and prescribed me 5 days of antibiotics.

The doctor’s visit was 80 euros (more than I was expecting) while the pills were (expectedly) cheap.  They worked like a charm and I’ve been infection free ever since.

Anywho, still alive and well.  I've reached the big old age of 55 now.  Still wandering but hopefully close to finding a new home.

Three Years!

 

How?  How has it been three years since I started this journey?

I’ve always said that the perception of time distorts the older you get.  When you’re told at 10 years old that you’ll do fun stuff on Saturday and it’s only Tuesday?  That was a torturous eternity.  Now (if you’re lucky) you get to be my ripe old age of 54 and you blink and three years pass.  Three whole years!

On March 2, I landed in Lisbon, now one of my favorite cities.  But just before March 2 of this year, I landed again in Tirana, another favorite of mine.  Three years in, I crave familiarity which made me happy to book the same place I stayed when I first visited the city last summer.

My host did warn me that there would be some protests in the area but that they might not impact my trip in.  I did hear some ruckus as the taxi pulled in front of the building, but I didn’t see anything that night.  More on that later.

It’s cooler in Albania than in Cyprus.  I expected that but I also wanted to get a sense of what the city is like in the winter.  Not too bad, a little nippy as I set out on my first morning to get breakfast and supplies.  It was decent enough for me to visit the Millenium Café again and sit outside, just as I had on my first morning in the city last year.  The treehouse-like atmosphere wasn’t as lush as it was in the summer but at least there were no bees this time.  Believe me, I was looking out for them.  I haven’t forgotten about you, crazed Albanian bees -- it took weeks for my swollen bee foot to heal!

A few days after my arrival in the city I got a sense that the protests were still going on. I would see a group of people sitting outside a government building for days around a small display of signs.  Then one day I went out to get some groceries on a rainy, yucky afternoon and saw this on my way into the store.

 

I’m not sure what the protests and I only heard later that there was some rowdiness. I didn't see any of that, though, so I wasn’t worried about it.  Still beats being in the U.S.  And here, unlike in Cyprus, I can have hot water any time I want!  Love that!

I’d been in the city for a couple of weeks when I stumbled into a street festival.  Also not sure what this was about but it was nice to see everyone out enjoying the early spring weather.  There were a number of stalls selling crafts and snacks along with a lot of big cookies.  So in my mind, it was just the Big Cookie festival.

This video came out a few days after getting to the city.  It was cool to see one my favorite travel vloggers walking the same streets that I’m on now.

The Don'ts of Visiting Albania

Leaving Cyprus

Another winter has passed in Cyprus.   But even at the beginning of February, it was already getting warmer.   The Sunday before I left was absolutely glorious.  The weather was perfect with a slight breeze and plenty of sun for most of the day.  Everybody was out walking and enjoying the Mediterranean.  It reminded me just how much I love the island.  That’s why I keep coming back.

But I have to leave in order to come back.  And that time had come again.

I needed to lighten the load in my bags.  I decided to ship some souvenirs and stuff back to the States because I couldn’t fathom the idea of going back myself.  It’s been almost a year since I’ve been across the pond. 

What?  I can’t believe it’s been that long – and yet I know exactly why it’s been so long.  I continue to be stunned by how bad things have gotten in the U.S. in just the last year.  It’s not only the news coming out of there that’s affected me, but I’ve also watched the value of the dollar take a nose-dive compared to the euro.  When I first started this journey, the dollar was only slightly less valuable than the euro.  But now?  Ten euros spent in Europe is now more like S11.15 USD.  Multiple that amount for groceries and transport?  Yeah.  Things are bad. 

In spite of everything, I know that I will have to go back this year to handle some business.  I can’t even imagine how overstuffed my mailbox is.  So, yeah, I’ll have to make at least one trip this year. 

Just not now.

Instead, I decided to ship some extra stuff back to Georgia.  Better for my stuff to go there than me.  I made several trips to get this done: a trip to the local grocery store for a spare box, a trip to a stationary store for a roll of tape, and finally a trip to the post office. 

That last trip, which was supposed to be the easiest, didn’t go as well as I'd planned.  The lady behind the counter got weird when I told her I wanted to send the package to the States.  She explained that it was complicated now.  If I wanted to ship the package, I’d have to go online first to fill out a form, take pictures of everything in the package and upload everything to the website, print out a shipping label, and then return to the office to ship the package. 

With my mouth hanging open I tried to take the flyer with all the info, but she wouldn’t give it to me.  I got the feeling that she just didn’t want to be bothered.  I didn’t even get an estimate of how much it would cost as I grabbed the box and headed for the door.  She suggested that some of the other mail carriers might not have as many restrictions on them.

Yeah.  About that.

There is a DHL office right across the street from the post office (I do love a good walkable city!), but the office hadn’t opened yet.  I went back to the apartment to wait then lugged the box back to the office …

And then lugged it back to the apartment after the DHL lady told me it would cost $250 to ship it to the U.S.

Are you SH!TTING me!!!

It costs less to ship ME, along with all my crap, from Cyprus to Tirana than to ship a 10-pound package from Cyprus to the U.S.

And since my plane was leaving later that day, I decided I didn’t need to keep most of the stuff in that box.  I took out a few choice items and the rest got chucked in the trash.

I hated to do that.  But nothing in that box was worth $250.  There is no way.

And the upset didn’t stop for the day.  I gathered all my stuff and headed to the bus stop to get to the airport.  Already tired, upset and sweaty, the wait added ‘impatient’ to that list of issues.  I also wasn’t even sure if the bus I needed would stop at that stop as I watched it stop across the street from me. 

I hauled my stuff across the street, missing that bus as it drove away, then decided to head to Finikoudes bus stop.  I’d caught the airport shuttle from there the last time so I knew I could again.

Until I couldn’t.

Minutes after I took a seat, a man walked by and told me that the airport shuttle no longer picks up at the beach.  I just looked at him, immediately thinking he was a cab driver just looking for fares.  But no.  He took a seat while I got up to look at the posted bus schedules.  Then a British woman came over and told me the same thing and that I’d have to walk to the official bus station (only about 500 meters away) to catch the bus.

Sigh.

Screw this.  I decided I was done waiting and figured I’d get a cab.  I still recommend avoiding cabs in Cyprus because they are overpriced.  But I was tired, okay?  I just wanted to get to the airport without any more waiting.  But, since I’d only planned on paying 2.40 euros for a bus and I was heading to Albania which has its own currency, I realized I didn’t have enough money for a cab.  Time to hit an ATM.

Why is it when I don’t need one I can find an ATM everywhere?  But when I’m tired and lugging my bags on a sunny Cypriot day and really need a break, the cash machines just disappear?   Why is that?  There are plenty of machines along the beach and among the restaurants, but I swear they were hiding from me that day.

Once I finally found one and headed to the taxi stand, I spotted another ATM.  Directly across the street from the taxi stand.  Of course.  

So, to sum up, my last day in Cyprus was a flat-out mess.  It was too much noise, waiting, sweating while hauling all my crap, a couple of broken nails, and being on the verge of tears more than once.  In other words, it was a travel day.  And a pretty bad one.  Not Jamaica bad or getting stopped by Turkish customs bad, but not the most pleasant of my recent experiences.