Balkan Style a la Gangnam Style is an endearing term for how the locals live (with less satire). This is apparent in all aspects of their culture: from day-to-day interaction, arts, and of course their driving. From what I’ve been told its what they’re famous for! It definitely makes for entertaining bus rides to say the least.

On our way to Zabljak our bus was delayed by an hour for reasons we could only guess at. We eventually arrived to much chillier temperatures, but that allowed me to sympathize with friends and family back home :). We hit the trail early to crush a 20km-ish hike (I want to double check that when I get back) up to some ice caves, Ladena Paciné — I think — in Durmitor National Park. It took us the whole day and the views were spectacular. I think I burned off a little of the bread and meat I’ve been stuffing my big face with for the past month.

Yesterday, we did a much easier hike in the same park. Okay it was more like a mountainous stroll. Fine. It was a gentle and serene walk around the Black Lake. It wasn’t very black, but it was lakey.

Then began the journey to Kotor so Natalie could make her flight this morning back to France. This was supposed to be a purdy 3.5 hour busride back. NOPE. 5.5 hours of pure personality-destroying, life-changing turmoil. It wasn’t that bad but to try and keep this blog somewhat more interesting than a game of bash your head with rocks, I will indulge in some creativity a little.

AIR CONDITIONING. The words stood out to me like an ancient artifact to Dr. Jones. This bus would be a cozy and comfortable ride back to Kotor. We step on, the friendly bus attendants smile and point to the back of the bus, their gaze fall on my Canadian flag patch.

“I wonder how well the Canadians handle heat in this country,” I’m sure they thought to themselves. Their smiles hide the naivety that will soon be exposed. We take our seats and notice no cold air coming from the vents. No biggie, maybe once they start driving? Fifteen minutes into the ride and that was answered with a stuffy and musty ‘no’. Okay this bus isn’t too bad, I’m warm but I ain’t no baby (actually I am and I fear the humid heat like a cockroach fears light). Then we arrive at some city, Podgoricha I think. It should be named City Where Everyone Wants to Get on This Bus-icha. All of Montenegro was at this bus stop battling their way to get a standing spot. Then she boarded. She would be the ruler of any fresh air arriving on this bus, and tonight her thumb would point down.

It started to cook, I was getting a nice medium-rare look about me. Some girls opposite us opened their window. Moments later,
“You dare allow cool and fresh air on this bus!? Close that at once before I close… Your life,” I’m sure she said in Montenegran. She hated all things good and nice

The bus attendants could see fear and the hopelessness in our eyes, so they cracked a window. The Ruler of the Air had no authority over them thankfully. Only an hour to go. The odd breeze would keep us alive and awake. 30 minutes to go. Mouth is parched. I start wringing my shirt into my mouth to absorb my lost water. The Ruler of the Air glared at me as I was trying to save my life.
“I win,” I mouthed to her.

We arrive in Kotor. Dozens of Montenegran hunnies greet me and a few hunks welcome Natalie back. We did it.

As we later found out, the reason for the delay to Zabljak was due to a fatal accident. A girl my age tried to overtake a vehicle and ended up colliding headfirst into a truck hauling firewood. Her young sister didn’t make it. Although I may be at the will of the bus drivers over here, please take care on the roads back home, friends.

Edit: I now realize how quickly that post degraded into sadness. Know that my plot twists aren’t always shiny.