The curtain closed on my week of Balkan So Hard adventures with a beautiful sunset in Kotor.
Fatigued by Porto Montenegro's rows of same-y looking yachts, supercars, and overpriced (but delicious!) restaurants that only expats and tourists could afford, H and I wanted a more 'real' experience of Montenegro. We took our most expensive cab ride yet---€15! I love this country!---and left behind the glossy glamour of the port for the old-world charms of the medieval city of Kotor.
On Monday morning, H nudged me awake.
"Wake up, Disney princess! BK texted. He's taking us for brunch. You have half an hour to get ready."
Half an hour and a full face of makeup later I was still not quite awake. Grumbling, I dragged myself out the house cursing and wondering why BK couldn't just pick me up from the front door instead of making me walk down to Purobeach.
And then I saw BK and H standing on a speedboat and thought,
OK, fine, I'll forgive them this one time for making me walk down to the jetty.
But still, they could've learnt a thing or two from The Wolfpack and landed the boat in the garden.
So we left Porto Montenegro and drove to the Bay Of Kotor.
Last Friday I reluctantly peeled myself off the floating bar in Almara Beach Club and dragged my dusty heels to a party of sorts at Lustica Bay. I had no idea what the event was for. I only vaguely remember hearing the words 'BMW---launch---canapes---champagne---golf---archery'. Archery! Alright then.
On Friday I expressed my desire to go to Purobeach. S, ever accommodating and in-the-know, rolled his eyes and said "Forget about that. We'll go somewhere with a better view." We bundled into a taxi---I called shotgun---and drove from Porto Montenegro to Oblatno beach, through winding mountain roads that yielded the most breathtaking sights, wide expanse of ocean and sweeping views of Koto.
We arrived at Almara Beach Club, from here on referred to as Paradise.
I'm staying with a friend in Tivat, a tiny little coastal town in Montenegro, population 14,000. The kind of provincial paradise where you leave your doors unlocked and everyone knows each other by name. I also happen to walk out the house every morning singing Belle's song "Little town...it's a quiet village, everyday like the one before..." but that's just me, I'm a Disney princess on steroids.
Porto Montenegro is more or less my base for the week that I'm here. Enclosed 'within the walls' as the expats put it, it's a tiny but well-formed (that's what I said, hee hee) waterfront development and luxury yacht marina. A parking space for boaties bored of St Tropez and jaded by Monte Carlo, if you will. I predict hipsters with yachts all over Porto Montenegro wearing skinny jhorts and Instagramming their calamari lunch. By the way, my hashtags for Instagram are #BalkanSoHard and #ILiveToSerb. I'm very proud of that.
Thursday morning I dragged my pale London butt out of bed and stumbled ten meters out the door to the beach to join H for breakfast.