The Scenic Route to Paphos, Cyprus

 

                                                               Outside of Athens Airport

Ah.  The joys of a middle seat when you have 3-foot-long legs and are already tired of sitting on planes.  Yes, that was the fun I experienced on the flight out of the U.S.  I’m usually kinda jazzed to once again be leaving the country, but this time I’m just tired.

That fatigue worked in my favor as I slept during most of the overnight flight.  Landed in Heathrow for a bit of a layover and then it was onto security.  My 20-minute ordeal with security trying to find a .66 mil container of lotion in my computer bag during my last trip through the airport was still fresh in my mind but, mercifully, there was no issue this time.  The flight back to Lisbon was just as uneventful.

I’d flown to the states this time on a round-trip fare from Portugal as it was cheaper.  It also put me in a decent position to fly to my next destination.  I spent another night in VIP Picoas and headed back to the airport the next day.

This is where my issue with taxis really comes into play.  I’d taken an Uber from Lisbon airport to this same hotel when I travelled in from Faro and it was about 11 euros.  That same trip by taxi, depending on the time of day, costs anywhere from 13-30 euros.  The last guy also complained that I didn’t tip him (he’d also complained earlier about having back issues and not being able to help with my bags – seriously?  And you still want a tip?).  The convenience of having the cab waiting in front of the airport is usually not even worth the extra expense.  You’d think I’d learn that lesson by now, but I’m still stubborn like that. 

Just as an aside; I’m still using esims for my phone since Google Fi cut me off from international travel (still works perfectly fine in the states).  For some reason, the last couple of sims I used in Portugal would just randomly stop working.  This is part of the reason I was so quick to hop a cab as my connection to Uber was often spotty.

Another plane, another country.  It’s a four-hour flight from Lisbon to Greece.  I’d taken this same flight way back in the beginning of my journey and I was even less eager to leave Portugal now than I was then.  At least this time I wasn’t staying in Greece.  The Athens airport was just a means of getting back to Cyprus.

Except … why do the departure signs in the airport show that there is another airport on the island?  I’m flying into Larnaca, the airport I’m familiar with, and yet my accommodation in located in Paphos.  Are you telling me that Paphos airport is a short bus ride from my Airbnb while the airport I’m actually flying into is two hours away?

Really?

Oy.

I made this same mistake when flying into Montenegro.  I flew into Podgorica when I should have flown into Tivat and had to pay for that exorbitant taxi ride between the two cities.  How was I to know at the time?  When I searched for flights to the country, I just assumed the first airport that came up was the main (if only) airport in the area.  Sigh.  Another live and learn moment.

I’d already be arriving in Larnaca after 11 pm.  I could not face the idea of a 2-hour taxi ride from there to Paphos (which would cost about 130 euros!) followed by an exhausted fumbling for keys to get into the new place, in the dark, while lugging all my crap.  Couldn’t do it.

I booked a one-night stay in a hotel in Larnaca and figured I’d sort out getting to my apartment when I was fresh the next morning.  After arriving even later on Cyprus than planned (the flight was delayed), waiting far too long for my bags, and having to hail a cab to the hotel (that still cost 20 euros – it’s 2 miles away, my dude!), I still had to fumble for keys in the dark.  The reception desk had been abandoned by the time I got there, so the owners sent me pictures and instructions to get in.

It was a clean enough place.  There was a bed.  I slept.

The next morning, I scouted for some breakfast before trying to figure out the bus routes on the island.  Oh.  Yeah.  The sun on the Mediterranean.  Can’t beat it.  It’s why I chose to spend the next three months of exile from Portugal on the island.  I don’t have the bandwidth for anywhere new and, as I learned last year, my dear Istanbul is way too cold and rainy this time of year.  Cyprus remains sunny and warm at around 65 degrees F.

Still miss Portimão, though.

While sitting at breakfast in a seaside cafe, basking in the sun, I had a moment to think.  The last few days had been rough with all the travel and I still had another day of land travel before settling in my new home.   I was tired, anxious about my employment situation and my dwindling bank account, and uncertain about how the rest of the day would go.  But I was in Cyprus, a place I liked, and it was beautiful.

And this is my life at the end of 2024. I had breakfast while watching the sunrise in Lisbon and the next day, I watched the sun set in Paphos.  I may be ready to return to being a cat lady/hermit with a boring desk job in Portugal, but I can still appreciate the amazing moments I’ve had on this journey.

Meal done, I went back to the hotel to check out.  The nice lady at the desk showed me how to catch the city bus into the center of Larnaca.  A short walk from there took me to the boardwalk along Finikoudes Beach, a place that was already familiar to me.  From there I caught the bus from Larnaca to Limassol.  Once there, I caught another bus to Paphos.

So, just to see some numbers, 20 euros for the cab ride from the airport, 53 euros for the hotel room, 2.40 for the city bus, 4 euros a piece for each of the intercity buses, and 13 euros for yet another cab from the bus station to the apartment.  Altogether, that totals 96.40.  Would taking a cab for the entire journey be easier?  Yes.  But since I am really tired of paying for overpriced cabs, I think saving 30-40 euros made all the transfers and waiting more than worth it.

The apartment turned out to be worth the trouble as well.  It’s a spacious place with a huge bedroom and a direct view of the pool.

The ocean is about a mile away while the city center is a mile in the other direction.  I’ll be here for two weeks, the longest I could stay as the place is booked up.  After that I might make my way to Limassol on the way back to Larnaca.  I don't know yet.  After the last week, I’m really not in the mood to make any more arrangements for a while.

My first morning in Paphos, I went to a local pub for breakfast.  And yes, I want food and not a beer at 10:30 in the morning like the people at the table near me (no shade on them, I just can’t get with the ‘every hour is beer hour’ attitude of the Brits/Irish).  As I’ve mentioned before, Cyprus is crazy with Brits as this place can attest.  It’s a British pub playing British music and featuring screens showing football (American soccer).  There were ads on the radio for relocation services for Brits looking to move to Cyprus.    

As I ate my big English breakfast, the genial Irish guy who ran the place asked where I was from.  When I told him the U.S., Georgia, he immediately responded with “that’s too bad”.  It made me laugh, but when he added that it was like adding a lift to a toilet, I only laughed harder.  Unasked, he then proceeded to give me all these tips for getting around the island, including a warning about the crazy prices of the cab drivers.  Good food, good atmosphere, and good tips.  Can’t ask for more as a tourist in a new city.

Oh yeah.  And cats.  Don’t forget the cats.

Too Many Planes, Too Many Airports

 

Yeah.  I knew that time was coming again.

You would think that I wouldn’t want to go through the separation anxiety of leaving Portugal ever again, so I just wouldn’t keep coming back.   But I’m not that bright.  Can’t stay away from the country, have yet to secure a bag to remain, so … gotta leave again.

This sucks.  Hard.

I was very happy in my pink palace in Portimão.  I didn’t do anything terribly exciting, hence not posting to this blog in a month.  I worked on my online store, tried to get some of my other writing done, and basically chilled.  Total all, I had two glorious months of not having to get on a plane, two months of regular walks along a gorgeous beach, two months of not having to plan my next moves.  It was lovely.

And did I mention that the hosts sent their cleaning lady, a nice woman from Brazil, to clean the place twice during my stay?  Can I tell you how much I loved that?  I’ve never hired a maid in my life, but I might have to consider it the occasional special treat once I find my new place.

That last week or so was a bit on the taxing side, emotionally.  Not only was it the stress of leaving my most recent comfy home, but I came to the harsh realization that two years out of work has done a serious number on my bank account.  There is still no hope on the job front.  Just news of more layoffs and the confirmation that ageism is alive and well in this horrible job market.  My online shop has been open for a couple of months with zero sales.  I’ve gotten plenty of phishing emails and people looking to scrape more money out of my pocket in consultancy fees, but that’s about it.  It’s all been very demoralizing.

Adding to that stress, I was faced with yet another trip across the pond.  More fun.  I figured one last trip to the U.S. before January and the return of the orange regime. 

It’s just gonna get worse, people.

Anyway, there was nothing I could do about leaving Portugal as my Schengen days were coming to an end.  Sadly, I packed up and prepared to leave. Remembering that horribly expensive taxi ride into the city, I took a far cheaper Uber back to Faro Airport (more about the stupid expense of taxis in a later post). After one of the longest ½ hour flights I have ever had (why are children … children?), I was back to the VIP Executive Picoas in Lisbon.  I do love that hotel.  So comfy.  I booked my stay for two nights (including breakfast, which I still recommend) before the flight back to the states.

My short stay in Lisbon was enjoyable as always.  The city was all lit up for Christmas and full of tourists, even if the weather was a good 15 degrees cooler than in Portimão (I miss it so much!).  There was a Christmas Market in the park with carnival rides and an ice rink (seriously?  How?  It wasn’t that cold.).

I visited my favorite Hard Rock Café and was stunned to find that one of the waiters recognized me.  What?  The last time I went to that restaurant was six months earlier – the reason I remember that is because it was Easter Sunday and stupidly packed.  Weird, though, that I didn’t remember the dude.  I’m sure I’ll remember him if he’s still working there the next time I visit (he was definitely a cutie).

Way too soon, it was back to Lisbon Airport.  The flight to the U.S. was marked by having to switch my aisle seat in the very back of the plane to a seat near the flight attendant’s sitting area.  Not sure why the switch, but at least I had leg room for days.  A quick layover in Philly and then it was back to the ATL.

I hate that airport.  I didn’t used to before starting this journey.  Now it makes me itch every time I see it.  Still, the transition from plane to baggage claim to tram to car rental went smoothly enough.  Then it was off to an Airbnb I visited in January.

Still as cozy as ever, I did the standard things there during my short stay.  Mail pickup (including retrieving samples of the very t-shirts I had designed – very pleased with them, I must say), reupping on supplies, and dying my hair again.

I met the host on the way out of the place and we had a nice chat.  I filled him in on some of the places I’d visited since last seeing him and encouraged him to make his own way to Europe.  He said I was killing him with all these travel stories.  I told him I was killing myself as I’d hoped to be housed in Portugal months ago.  I confirmed his opinion that the Portuguese are a laid-back people living lives that aren't consumed by all the daily crap that Americans deal with.  That's just one of the reasons I'm still trying to get back there.  But for now …

Back to the airport.  Yeah.  I can’t keep doing this whole transatlantic hopping thing anymore.  The money, the butt-numbing time on uncomfortable planes, the stress – can’t keep doing it.  I was on the plane to the states when I realized that I need to do this as little as possible in the coming year.  I just can’t handle it anymore.  Screw dying my hair, screw getting the mail, and, as I had no income in 2024, screw having to fly back to do my taxes.  I need to remain in Europe for as long as I possibly can.

Still Happily in Portimão

 

Things continue to go well in Portimão.  It’s gotten a bit cooler and windier, but the sun is still shining (which I love so much).  Daylight Savings Time ended on Sunday 10/27/24, so the days are shorter now.  We’ve gotten a bit more rain, but that just makes the sunny days all the better.

I’ve extended my stay in my current cute pink apartment for a total of two months.  That makes this the longest I’ve stayed anywhere since I sold my house back in March 2023.  I’ll hate to leave the place as, when I do, it will also be time to leave the country again, but at least I’m enjoying my time here while I have it.

A couple of weeks prior to this post, there was a frisbee tournament on the beach.  Lots of teams and spectators in cordoned off areas for their matches.  One area was set up with bleachers for the larger matches.  Once the tournament was over, everything was quickly demolished, and a bunch of volleyball nets were set up.

As in the states, the Halloween decorations quickly gave way to Christmas trees and lights.  Again, there's no Thanksgiving holiday outside of the U.S., so it's a smooth slide into the end of the year festivities.  Once again, though, because of my timing, I won't be able to spend the holiday in the country I love.  Pesky tourist visa expires before 12/25/24.

I’m still reeling over the results of the 2024 U.S. election. 

Sigh.

The next four years are going to be bad.  Really bad.  A lot of people are going to die.

But, since there’s nothing I can do about that and as I already have one foot out of the country, the only thing I can do now is get my other foot out.  The job search has been nothing but a frustrating dead end. After a year of searching, I can’t even bring myself to look at another listing. 

The data analyst course I was taking ended up being another non-starter.  The course was estimated to take 3-6 months.  When I wasn’t done after nine months of waning interest, I knew that was not the route for me.  I don’t care how much an analyst can make, if I hated doing the work, I couldn’t pursue that career.

So, Instead I have opted to become an entrepreneur.

I opened a print on demand shop a few weeks ago.  I’ve had this thought in mind for about a year now and finally just decided to take the leap.  Despite all my research, the learning curve has been a steep one.  No sales yet, but I’m keeping hope alive. 

I’m also still posting on Medium.   Though the amount I’ve earned over the last year is only enough to buy me a single cappuccino, I do keep trying.  My goal is to eventually have multiple sources of income.  It’s slow going so far which is … sigh.

Here's the link for the shop if you’re in the market for a snazzy new t-shirt.

www.thetangyteeshop.com

Portimão, Portugal

 

Surprise.  I’m back in Portugal.

What can I tell you?  It is my happy place.

And, yes.  I’m fully aware that there are so many other countries I could visit with my renewed Schengen days.  Switzerland, Germany, Italy (I still have a thought of spending a month traveling by train to multiple cities), France (I want to hit Nice eventually), and Spain but … naw.  I’m good in Portugal.

After several tries, I was able to find affordable housing, just not on Madeira (still looking into that).  Instead, I decided to hit a new part of the mainland.  The Algarve is in the south of the country, best known for its beaches.  The airport is in Faro which is apparently nowhere near where anyone wants to be.

The first transport options I encountered were several booths for shuttle services.  The lines were very long for all of them, so I went on the hunt for a taxi.  I quickly learned why the line for the taxis was non-existent.

My next apartment was about an hour away from the airport.  I can’t say how thrilled I was to see my first Pingo Doce along the way.  Yay!  I was back in Portugal!

Wait.  You want how much for the cab ride?

Sigh.  There goes another hundred bucks out the door.  (Please note: this is the third c-note taxi ride I’ve taken in the last three countries, Türkiye, Montenegro, and now Portugal.  You’d think I would have learned by now that cabs are a rip-off.)

Needless to say, I will be finding a different way back to the airport.

I spent my first week in Portimao in a cute, pink, 1^st floor apartment.  It was a nice setup with a double balcony and a tub (with the dreaded partition).  The building is about a mile and half from the beach over a sometimes rocky path.

The beach is fronted by the usual boardwalk with restaurants and shops.  And a lot of British people.  I knew before my arrival that there are more Brits here than anywhere else in the country.  There’s even a grocery store called The Food Co. that’s run by Brits and sells British made products.  My host in Porto had already warned me that the only reason to go to the Algarve was for the beaches.  All of the history and old-world charm of a city like Porto was completely given over to apartment buildings.  Lots of apartment buildings.   

And that’s about it.  Not so many historical sites in town.  The big draw is definitely the beach.  I have no problem with this.

I couldn’t book the first apartment for more than a week, though I wanted to.  Might as well make the most of the overpriced cab ride.  I ended up booking another apartment owned by the same hosts and get this – it was in walking distance from the first place.  Sweet!  Further away from the beach but closer to Continente (a very small Pingo Doce is another mile further up the road).

I knew before I got to the second place that I wouldn’t like it as much.  It was located on the 8^th floor in a building with a pool.  There was another tub (this time with a shower curtain – yay!) and two HUGE balconies.  I loved those things.  This was a corner unit like the first place which meant different views for each one.  Granted, there wasn’t much more to see than other apartment buildings, but still.

A little over a week in that place and I managed to book the first apartment for an entire month.  And, despite liking this place more, I found myself kinda missing the 8th floor.  Oh well.  Both places are good and means I don't have to make any more plans for a while.  I have no interest in getting on a plane again right now, so I figured to ride out my time in Portimao.  I’ll see if I can hit Funchal next month to use the rest of my Schengen days.

I love this country so much!  Y’all don’t even know!

Time to Leave the Country Again

 

I really enjoyed the apartment and if I were to return to Tivat, I could stay there again.  The only issue with the location is the access to taxis.  Occasionally, I’d see one coming into the block of apartments, but it was a coin toss if they were dropping off or picking up. To find an available one, I’d have to drag all my crap to the main road and hope for the best.

I’d managed to get to the road, but before I even had a change to flag someone down, a beat-up old car pulled up next to me.  A guy leaned out and asked if I needed a ride.  I said yes but … this did not look like a cab.  There was no signage anywhere or a meter that I could see.   I asked the price to go to Tivat Airport and he said 10 euros.  More than reasonable, but …

The dude got out to move a bunch of stuff around in the back seat just to get my bags inside.  With no other room in the back, I took shotgun while being wary the entire time.  It was a short trip to the airport but a long walk to the terminal.  The reason for that was the guy wasn’t allowed to drive up to the main gate.  So, nope.  Not an official cab.  But at least he got me there is one piece and didn’t try to gouge me (either literally or figuratively).

Once again, the travel gods are looking out for me even when I make some sketchy decisions.

While there were tons of folks hanging outside of the tiny airport, the inside was practically deserted.  There were few seats inside, which is why everyone was out front.  I joined them to wait for a good 45 minutes before check-in began.  Then it was off to wait some more to get to security.  Then it was more waiting for the flight to be called.

So, yeah.  It was a travel day.

Less than two hours later, I was back in Türkiye.  I just did my routine from two weeks earlier in reverse and cabbed it back to the same hotel I stayed in before.  The next morning, I had my last Turkish breakfast for a while 

then cabbed it back to Istanbul Airport for the big non-stop flight.

I do really like Turkish Airlines.  The food is good and the seats don’t numb the butt as much as some other airlines.  While I did have an aisle seat (not my preference), the middle seat remained empty.  The other single woman in the window seat agreed that we got lucky.

The flight was actually decent for being my umpteenth trip across the pond. Then it was the usual routine while back in the states.  I’d managed to book the Airbnb I’d had the last time for a couple of days. 

Seeing Trump 2024 signs on the way to the apartment was just depressing.  Being in the country is already a bummer.  I didn’t need more confirmation that I really don’t want to return to live in the U.S.

Amidst the other errands I had to run, I took full advantage of the tub and dyed my gray hair away.  That’s the one perk(?) of coming to the U.S.  It feels like a reset, a refresh before beginning the adventure again.  Except …

I had something of a moment in that apartment in Woodstock.  It was time to decide my next move and I was at a loss. My Schengen days had reset which was great.   I wanted to return to Portugal (shocker) but was still having a difficult time finding housing that didn’t break the bank.  I didn’t want to go anywhere else.  I didn’t want to get on another plane, but I definitely didn’t want to remain in the states.

I considered extending my stay just to give me more time to plan but the place was booked.   I was supposed to leave the country in the next few days and had no idea where I was going.

I felt a little lost and unwanted.  Not a good feeling.

Fortunately, it was brief.  I managed to find a new home for a week and make the arrangements to get there. 

Whew.

***

Ah.  Heathrow.

I’ve just now discovered (after more than a year of travel) that heading to London is a good, cheap way of getting out of the states.  You can get a non-stop flight to an airport that can connect you to anywhere in Europe.

The problem, as always, is security.

I had to retire my trusty carpet bag while in the states as it was getting really worn.  I replaced it with a small roller bag that can be used as a carryon.  It was an adjustment having two roller bags and trying to move them around (escalators are so much fun).  Easier on my shoulders, but still a challenge.  While checking the big bag into Vueling Airlines (a new one for me), the lady asked if she could also check in the little bag.  Hey, as long as there was no fee – sure.

And look at that.  With one less bag, getting through security should be a breeze, right?  There’s nothing in my computer bag and it has NEVER been flagged before.  Easy, yeah?

Sigh.

It got flagged.  My shoulders slumped as I walked over to the screening area.  After waiting for the previous person to get checked, I stepped up to the counter … only for the officer to leave the station.  Okay.  Is someone else coming for shift change or am I just going to stand here until I miss my flight?  There’s no reason for this in the first place.

Eventually, a woman showed up to do the screening.  She’s scanning, she’s taking stuff out, she scanning again and not finding anything.  But, she’s sure there’s something there.  I’m thinking if it’s taking this long to find something, maybe it’s not worth finding?  But still, she pressed on.

Turns out there was a tiny bottle of hand lotion, well under the 100 ml limit, that I had slipped into the bag and forgotten about.  And why wouldn’t I forget?  That thing has probably been in there for months and no other airport has cared.

But this was Heathrow.  The airport where any liquid passing through security is treated like an explosive.

After all that, she didn’t even throw the lotion away.  All that time and energy spent on nothing.

To say the least, I was a bit perturbed.

So much so that after I’d repacked all my crap and started hunting for my gate, my distress must have been visible.  I passed by a woman standing in front of her retail store.  She asked if I was okay.  Without stopping or so much as looking at her, I said “I will be.  Thanks for asking.”

Maybe Heathrow isn’t the best way to get out of the states.  For the sake of my blood pressure, I might need to avoid it in the future. 

A Day Trip to Budva

 

I saw as much of the Tivat as I could between bouts of rain.  When the sky appeared to stay sunny one day, I figured it a good time to find my way out of town for the day.

Uber doesn’t exist in the area, so it’s best to catch the bus or a cab.  I flagged down a taxi on the main road and asked him to take me to Budva. 

I mentioned in my last post that the one major road was cut through the mountains.  Unsurprisingly, when there is construction on that single road, the traffic can get ridiculous. There were delays on both trips to Budva and I don’t envy anyone having to regularly take that road during the day.

While Tivat is this peaceful little town with a harbor full of yachts, Budva has more of a touristy party town vibe.  I remembered passing through the town on the way from the airport and the place was jumping well into the evening.

When the cab stopped, I thought we were just stuck in more traffic since I didn’t see any signage for the café.  But, no, the ride was over.  He gestured vaguely to the left, but since he only spoke Russian, I didn’t understand what he was saying.  I paid him and got on the good foot.

I’ve seen some comments online about people lamenting how much travel has changed in the last few decades.  That it was more of an adventure to find hidden gems without seeing them first on the internet, how you were forced to figure things out without Google translate and easy access to money.  I do understand what they mean – it was a different time.  Having said that, I would not give up having a living map on my phone for anything in the world. 

The GPS came to the rescue once again as the café was in Old Town, much of which is not accessible by car.  The narrow stone walkways through ancient buildings reminded me of Portugal and the maze of Mykonos at the same time.  It was full of shops and restaurants, hotels, and hostels with loads of tourists wandering around.

The café itself was just a store with no attached restaurant.  After buying my shirt, I found a place on the beach for lunch.  Just outside of Old Town is a boardwalk curving around the water.  Plenty restaurants facing the boats for rent in the harbor.  I had a basic meal and a cosmo with a great view of the water. 

As per usual when visiting a place I like, I looked at pricing for apartments.  Depending on where you look, there are places as cheap as 380 euros for a one bedroom.  Two-bedrooms can be found for around 750 euros.  Of course, there are also plenty of luxury places for the billionaires and a lot of construction going on everywhere.  I’m not sure what the visa situation is looking like right now, but it might be worth a look.

Overall, I’m impressed with Montenegro.  I knew it would be pretty, but I didn’t expect it to be so affordable.  It even has a slight advantage over Türkiye as far as livability (Ah!  Sweet potatoes! Broccoli!  I missed you!).  The widely spoken English is a bonus.  But there are a couple of issues that I can’t overlook.

I checked a couple of pharmacies in Tivat and one in Budva for my pills, but it was a no go in both cities.  No immediate worries, though, since I’d already stocked up in Türkiye.  I just wanted to do a price comparison between countries.

While grocery stores and places of interest are in walking distance to my apartment in Tivat, getting out of the city does require a car.  There are buses, but their schedules are tricky.  Cabs, as I’ve mentioned, are not cheap.  There probably was another way to get around, but I just didn’t stumble on it.

It rains a lot.  I started my two weeks in the country wearing shorts and by the second week, I was in long pants.  The temperatures dropped fast in mid-September because of the rain.  But it keeps everything green and pretty so I can’t complain too much.

Also, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to mention this but, I did spot a rode by a dumpster one day.  This was near the harbor and the high-end shops, so I was a bit stunned.  Left me spooked for the rest of my stay.  And this was with all the stray cats and dogs around the area.

I had to leave for the states after my stay otherwise I would have liked to explore more of the country.  Dubrovnik, Croatia is right up the coast from Tivat so there is still much to see in the area.  I can see myself going back one day.

Tivat, Montenegro

The sun was setting as my flight landed in Podgorica (pronounced Po-go-rizza), Montenegro.  Then it was on to the usual routine of getting through passport control, gathering my bag, and finding a way to my new home for the week.

Just as quickly as I was able to check my bag with Air Montenegro, I sailed through passport control without even having to answer any questions.  Baggage Claim was a few short feet away and my bag was one of the first ones out.  So far, the country and I were getting along just fine.

Why choose Montenegro as my 12^th country on this journey?  A YouTuber I follow visited there and marveled at the beauty of the place.  I can stay for 90 days on a tourist visa and the flight took only 1 ½ hours from Istanbul.  The price of accommodations is about on par with Türkiye so I figured ‘Why not?’

Tip #1:  When visiting Montenegro, do not fly into Podgorica if you are staying in Tivat.  The city has its own airport.

I made this same mistake when travelling to the Big Island of Hawaii years ago.  I landed in what I thought was the only airport, but ended up on the wrong side of the island.  That meant a stupidly long drive while exhausted, at night, in a strange car, on a road that was only partially paved – in the rain.  I really don’t recommend EVER doing this.

In this case, landing at the wrong airport meant a stupidly long ride in the back of an expensive cab driven by another madman.  The road to Tivat is cut through the mountains and is the only way to go between the two locations.  This meant a lot of roundabouts, hairpin turns, and some admittedly stunning views of the cities in the valleys below, all done at breakneck speed. 

Seriously, Google maps had the journey taking two hours.  Dude got me there with half an hour to spare.

But I did just come from Türkiye.  I was more than accustomed to crazy cab drivers.

As we drove through small patches of civilization along the way, I kept noticing the number of people just walking along the roads.  Even in the areas that weren’t brightly lit and obviously commercial, there were pedestrians everywhere.  I asked the cabbie if that was normal, that it was safe to walk at night.  He assured me the place was pretty safe, no worries while I was here.  I have rarely been out at night in any of the countries I’ve visited, but it’s always good to know I won’t be a target as a tourist.

We finally arrived at Tivat and it came time to pay.  I had asked before getting in the cab if he accepted cards since I mostly had Turkish money on me.  I handed over my card – and it didn’t work.  Gave him another card which did work except the card machine asked for a PIN.  It was a credit card.  I had no idea what the pin was as I never used it for ATM withdrawals.  The other credit card had the same outcome.  So, none of my cards worked, I was in a strange country where I had no money, and I owed this dude 80 euros.

This was a nightmare.

After fumbling with all the cards multiple times and checking with my bank to make sure I had set a travel alert (I had), I finally asked the guy to take me to the nearest ATM.  I sat on pins and needles until we found a place, then got out and put my card in.

Can I tell you how sweet it was to hear the ATM counting out the money?  Huge sigh of relief along with a huge tip for the guy for his patience (that and the machine only gave out 20’s so I couldn’t give him anything smaller).

He drove me back to the apartment and deposited my bag in front of the door.  Even after getting paid, the sweet man was apologizing for the machine not working.  I told him I was just happy that my card worked and I could pay him.  I was seriously freaking out for a minute there.

Then it was on to the task of checking my phone for the front door code, wrangling my stuff onto the elevator, trying to figure out the light switches, and finding the apartment.  Outside of both my new home and the apartment across the hall were buckets full of umbrellas – not a good sign.  I didn’t want to spend the next week indoors because of the rain. 

The key was located in what the host referred to as an ‘acid box’.  What the hell does that mean?  I fumbled a bit with the electrical boxes on the wall until I figured out that she was referring to the umbrella bucket.  Is there acid in the rain?  Is that why it’s called that or does that just mean something different in the native language?  I don’t know.

All I knew was that I was wiped.  I took some time to admire the nicely appointed apartment, then took my happy behind to bed.

Thunderstorms woke me up the next morning, but the rain didn’t last too long.  Then it was off to explore.

Montenegro is a small country of about ½ million people, known for its coastal towns, several world heritage sites, and stunning natural beauty.  The currency is the euro while the language … is different.  I always thought, because of the name, that it would be a Spanish speaking country, but no.  Technically, the country has their own language called Montenegrin, but Google Translate doesn’t recognize that language.  The closest approximation is Serbian.  Montenegro is kind of an off-shoot of Serbia and Bosnia Herzegovina so I think their language is something of a hybrid dialect. Fortunately …

Tip #2:  English is widely spoken in the country.

I’m always appreciative when someone (somehow) spots that I’m not a native-born Montenegrin and instantly switches to English. I am also still impressed at how easy that is for some folks.

While there are tourists from various countries wandering around, I was only one of three or four black people in the entire town.  No one stared at me like a zoo animal, though.  Actually, I got more stares in Istanbul than in Tivat.

(And I must apologize to the Montenegrin people – I will not be learning your language.  I got too much Portuguese and Turkish swirling around in my brain and there’s only so much I can absorb.  I can do ‘da’ for yes and cao (ciao like in Italy) for hello/goodbye, but that’s about it.)

Tip #3:  Tipping in restaurants is not expected, though it is appreciated. 

Additionally, the waitstaff give you the bill at the beginning of the meal.  It’s not like they are trying to get rid of you – they have the same laid-back attitude of the Turks.  If you do decide to order more, they will just print out another receipt.

And why wouldn’t you order more?  Prices for restaurants and grocery stores is pretty cheap.  Being able to go to a sit-down lunch, have a nice meal and maybe a cappuccino afterwards, and get change from my 20?  Awesome.  It’s not Turkish levels of cheap, but I’ll take it.  This is coming directly after paying over 20 euros for a meal at Burger King in Istanbul Airport.  I know airports markup their food, but that is ridiculous.  I don’t know how anyone is affording anything in the U.S. when fast food costs this much.

Yet in this cheap, beautiful country, the wealthy seem to gather.  Tivat is touted as the Monaco of the country because of all the high-end shops and extensive port. 

Oh.  Excuse me while I dock my yacht in Montenegro.

And I think this beast is actually a private vessel.  Holy crap!

The place is peaceful, nestled between the mountains and the Bay of Kotor.  I wouldn’t describe Antalya that way even with the mountains and ocean.  There’s just something about this place.

Goodbye Turkiye (for now)

 

With my 90-day Turkish visa about to expire, the search began again for a new home.  And though it took me a while to get used to Antalya, I’ve come to love it almost as much as Istanbul, making it doubly hard to leave the country this time.

Newsflash:  I really like Türkiye.

So it was interesting to see an article about the country adopting a new digital nomad visa.  The qualifications look good.  The country wants you to bring in $3,000 a month in salary OR have $30,000 in savings.  I don’t have the job yet (and the hunt for one remains a soul-sucking nightmare), but the savings part looks good.  Also, the other stipulations seem pretty reasonable though I need to do more research.  I still have my heart set on living in Portugal, but hearing news of this visa started me thinking about how great it would be to have a place in both countries.

I’m not rolling in dough like that, but it was still a nice thought.

Since I didn’t want to piss off the Turks by overstaying my welcome, I knew I’d better skedaddle.  Time to boomerang back to Portugal except ... I’m not sure what’s happening to the Airbnb prices there.  I really want to go home but finding a place to stay in Funchal for less than $100 a night is getting tough.  The mainland is no better. 

And, alas, I feel another trip to the U.S. is looming.  I don’t want to return but … mail and supplies and … whatever. 

The fact is, I really hadn’t intended to be nomadic for this long.  My life has become the definition of ‘winging it’.

On my last day in Antalya, I revisited a beachside restaurant called the Dubai Club for lunch.  Not only did the lady with the butt-length braids at the front entrance remember me from the previous week, but one of the waiters also remembered my order.  How did he do that?  I mean, I know I’m somewhat distinctive as one of the few black tourists in the entire city, but still …

The same waiter brought my bill later on.  I asked him when the place closed and he said the restaurant was open from 9 to 2 or 3 in the morning.  He works 10 to 17 hour shifts a couple of days a week.  When my mouth dropped open, he said he was young so he could handle it.  A beach in Antalya is a gorgeous place to work, and he was indeed a young guy, but that schedule is just stupid.

Before long, it was time to pack up and move again.  Grabbed an Uber/cab back to Antalya Airport.  Since this is a smaller airport, getting through the lines wasn’t too arduous, leaving me some time to wander around.

Can someone please tell me why there’s an Arby’s in the Antalya Airport?   Why?  McDonalds and Starbucks I can understand as they are everywhere.  But Arby’s?  Really???

Anyway, another 1 ½ hours back to SAW.  I grabbed another cab and headed for a hotel that was closer to Istanbul Airport for my next international flight.  Now, by this point, I had taken numerous taxis to and from both SAW and Istanbul into the city.  The cost was usually around 1000-1400 lira – approximately $30-$40 USD.  Imagine my shock when traveling between the airports saw the price almost triple.  Are you serious? 

That bill just added to the stress of the travel day even as I checked into the hotel.  The lovely receptionist listened to my woes, telling me I got scammed and offered me a cup of coffee. I declined, deciding to drop my stuff off and find something to eat.

The Fly Point Hotel is located in the Arnavutkoy neighborhood of Istanbul.  This is very much an in-between place for tourists needing access to Istanbul Airport.  There are a lot of hotels in the area and the restaurants have most of their prices in euros instead of lira.  I was still in lira mode so this surprised me more than anything else.

Taking a walk around, I was happy to see the mosques, flags, stores, and animals that are part of the Turkish experience.  The rest of the area was kind of industrial and not much to look at.  It just made me miss Balat and the Bosphorus.

A single night in the hotel, my last Turkish breakfast for a while (buffet style this time along with a cappuccino from one of those nifty coffee machines), then I checked out of the room.  I sat in the lobby of the hotel for a few hours as my flight didn't leave until around 6 p.m.

A quick (and cheap) Uber to Istanbul Airport and, after going through initial security, I checked the big board for my flight.  How come every flight was listed for several hours before and after mine and yet my flight was missing?  I kept checking my phone and checking the board but came up with nothing.  

Eventually I had to hit two information desks before I could get an answer.  Apparently, my flight had been cancelled and I'd been bumped to the next one leaving at 7.  After some more waiting for the ticket booth to open, I quickly checked my bag and got my ticket.

Even though my initial entry into the country was over a year ago (!), the experience is still quite vivid in my mind.  Because of that, going through Turkish passport control will always make me nervous.  But, once again, there were no issues.  I hadn't overstayed my time and the laws hadn't changed since entering the country.  Sphincter unclenched, I traveled the 20 miles through the airport to wait for my next flight.

Antalya Part 2

 

It took me awhile to adjust to the city, but I’ve come to appreciate it as a separate entity from Istanbul.  It amazes me that beach towns everywhere are similar regardless of the country.  It’s the palm trees, the laid-back atmosphere, the waitstaff dressed in shorts and comfy shoes.  Türkiye adds its own flavor with the vendors walking the beach selling Turkish pastries and corn on the cob.  Most of the restaurants on the beach offer hookah and shisha pipes that just adds to the chill out vibe.

I was able to extend my time in the apartment for a total of three weeks.  The host was good enough to give me a discount by paying in cash.  I always appreciate having to spend less money, but it meant doing the legwork to find the bills in USD.  There is a row of ATMS near the beach and some do offer other denominations.  Of course, I had to try multiple ones to find the USD, ran into cash limits, had to call the bank to make sure I didn’t hit any fraud alerts, give half to the host on one day and to his father on another day, yadda, yadda, yadda.  It’s all done now, but I’m still not sure if the discount was worth all the hassle.

It’s about 1 ½ miles from the apartment to the beach, an easy walk on the wide, still nearly deserted sidewalks.  The issue remains the heat.  Temps didn’t reach the 100-degree mark again (thank goodness), but it is still quite toasty in Antalya in August.  I quickly learned to carry a towel with me to mop up the endless amounts of sweat.

The beach is covered in restaurants, usually with a large sitting area right on the on the water.  I don’t usually hit these places because I know the prices are seriously jacked up.  Turns out, the couple of places I’ve visited so far, the food is not that pricey.  It costs around 10 bucks for time on one of the chaises.  But (unsurprisingly) the drinks are where they get ya.  I had a lovely cosmo on the beach that was about twice the lira I paid at a bar just off the beach.  Still, I could not resist the experience of relaxing by the Mediterranean with a nice adult beverage.  I even made a new friend one day.

The job search continues.  Since the search engines and job listings appear to be horribly broken, I try to find as many alternate sources of income as possible.  My writing on Medium has made me few bucks but nothing to sustain me yet.  I have to keep reminding myself that it’s a marathon and not a sprint and continue to be grateful for every new subscriber I get.

In trying to find a new source of income, I decided to open an Instagram account.  Nothing major, just thought I’d post some of the travel photos and videos that didn’t make it to this blog.  I went through all the steps to open the account, not really knowing how to proceed after that, and shut the program down.  A few hours later, I got someone trying to message me on the program. 

Guess.  Just guess who it was.

If you said Zaza, you get a WHAT THE HELL IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW?!!!??

Hours!  I’d had a profile on the website for hours!  The only picture I posted was a profile pic, a rare selfie I took in Istanbul last year.  How did he clock it so quickly?  Why is he clocking it at all?

Please note: I have not seen this man in person since last July.  I last spoke with him in September when I broke it off.  He’s tried to text and call a few times since then but I can’t remember the last time he did.  Now, a year after our last meeting, on an app I’ve never been on and didn’t know he was on, I get a message.  He was my first subscriber.  WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?!?

I realized only later that the program taps into WhatsApp and, of course, it picked up Zaza’s name along with one of my former hosts.  It also brought up my brother’s name as a possible connection – someone else I haven’t spoken to in a long time (and don’t care to speak to again).  This is somewhat disturbing and just reminds me why I avoided social media for so long.  I’m not sure opening the account was the best idea.

And I just wanted to post some travel pics …

A last note:  Lisbon experienced the biggest earthquake it’s had in a decade on Monday 8/26/24.  Fortunately, there weren’t any deaths and very little damage.  So good to hear.  I think I’m headed back to Portugal soon.