No, Boka your Kotorska!

The bay surrounding Kotor in Montenegro is the stuff of glamourous films. As the teeny Fokker plane took us from Gatwick airport to the roasting tarmac of Tivat, James Bond could easily drop out of a plane in a parachute to land on a yaught moored on the bay, and sip some of the local wine. Postcard-style pictures are only too easy to take.






We picked up the colossal suitcase belonging to our friends, Chris and Vanja, which we had checked in as our own to save them a nasty baggage surcharge (a comical phrase, since they were getting married), and went through customs. The heat wafted off the parking lot, cooking tyres and the unprotected heads of relatives waiting, and the landlord of the self-catering flat we booked welcomed us in with a sign with my name on it.

"Hi, I'm David. We're just waiting for our friends", I bumbled.

"???", he replied

"Dobar dan" was my feeble attempt at greeting the man in his language as he started to gesture us towards his car.

"Ah, dobar dan!" he beamed awkwardly. And thus began our series of mimes and broken Serbian from a phrasebook which saw us through ten days of mistranslated fun.

Not so bad a start. Our apartment terrace looked over the bay, perched on a hill above the many seaside flats and tropical trees of Tivat harbour. The town itself had the tacky attractiveness of any seaside conurbation with its stalls of ice cream and odd flashy toys, minus the overweight families of Western Europe. Most couples looked like they were straight out of a swimwear fold-out of a fashion magazine; tanned and tight-buttocked with designer sunglasses to boot. Naturally we were completely inconspicuous.

Tivat has a harbour and lots of swimming and water-polo areas, but is otherwise fairly low-key compared to its neighbouring beach towns. We spent the next few days hopping on and off buses which careered down the coastal roads, brushing aside pesky pedestrians in their way, to laze about the little jetties and stony beaches of Stoliv, Prcanj (get your English-speaking tongues around that one!) and Kotor itself. The bay has endless coves, each of which seem to open up as you pass the previous one, all framed with white rocky hills and mountains, and is basked in sunlight from morning till evening. There are no tides. People leave fishing rods out when the day gets hot, and come and get their dinner on the end of the line when things cool down. God made lots of time when he made Montenegro.

We forgot our London rhythms and slowed down. Our flat had a massive terrace we could eat breakfast on every morning. Turkish coffee, fluffy white bread from the local bakery, cheap, local fruit and vegetables from the amusingly-named Panto supermarket. We took turns figuring out how to make a meal of the ingredients we got out of the teeny shops, not yet aware of how to get to the market. Meat and fish were readily available, but somehow we weren't hungry for that sort of thing until lunch in one of the local restaurants. Ten euros would see you through several courses of freshly-cooked meat or fish and a glass of the locally-grown "Plantaze" wine. The reds were better than the whites, and beer, of course cost less than fruit juice.



Of the ten days we were there, we spent three visiting historical sites and going on walks, the most memorable of which - for me - was the walk around the old city walls of Kotor, up to the fortress which overlooks the city. Deceptively close to the town centre, access to the fortress is by a set of stairs reminiscent of Citizen Kane's Xanadu. We went through two bottles of water just getting to the top, and had to stop to drink every few minutes. The view was definitely worth it, even though the fortress itself is a bit overgrown and graffitied, with confusing signs telling you not to enter it after you've been charged two euros to go there. But yes, memorable for the eyes and the legs alike.

Budva is another popular town in the bay. Its old town juts into the sea and is full of orthodox sites to visit, with the manageable feel of those stoney Roman villages with their cobblestones and piazzas. It's definitely the most touristy of the towns in the bay; the beaches are covered with signs in English and animations for party-hungry beachgoers, but restauranteurs and those pesky people who rent parasols on beaches were less than pleasant. We had a fantastic meal in an Italian restaurant, where 8 euros saw me through two courses of fish. Ruth enjoyed the food too, as well as the better quality of restaurant decor in Budva, and had plenty of time to poke about Budva's many jewelry shops while I enquired about trips to the local monasteries. The town is definitely worth visiting, but we were both left wanting to go back to Kotor or Tivat which are touristy but somehow more friendly and manageable.

Our trip finished with a flourish with Chris and Vanja's wedding. They had been busy sorting out last-minute details (like the location of the civil ceremony!) while we were swanning about beaches and wondering what to cook that evening, so we hadn't seen that much of them and didn't really know what to expect. We arrived at Tivat harbour suited and booted for the event to find a massive boat on two levels, all decked out for meals, dancing, a band and the table for the marriage registry to take place. The guests piled onto the boat only to be fed lunch on the way to Kotor for the church ceremony in St Nikolas, and were led in a procession into the church. The ceremony itself was sung by the two priests and was a moving set of rituals (incense, tying the couple's hands with a cloth, kissing and wearing each others' crowns of flowers...), all of which Chris followed in Serbian and performed flawlessly. Vanja's elegant train was trailed down the church steps and the guests proceeded to assail them with good wishes and take photographs with them. And despite the coordinated American-football style throw, Vanja's sister Sanja lost the bouquet flying past her outside the church to another maid.

We got back on the boat for an evening of festivities like something out of a Greek epic. Several courses of lamb, pork, potatoes, salads and vegetables were served, and drinks of every description were served for the rest of the afternoon and evening, complimentary to all guests. When I shyly mentioned I couldn't eat meat, the waiters went off and came back with a massive plate of fried squid and potatoes which I gladly murdered before the bemused eyes of the rest of the guests. The band played, the speeches were given, the guests danced, and we occasionally looked up from what we were doing to remind ourselves of the gobsmacking surroundings it was all happening in. Turquoise water with fish literally leaping out to see our boat, mountains and trees reaching over the bay... We were even greeted by a nun on an island in the middle of the water, who waved her approval of the wedding proceedings as we sailed past. The hills were, indeed, alive with the sound of music (i.e. the band on our boat).


The evening culminated with the civil ceremony, translated into English by an interpreter, with the wishes and blessings of Tivat's officials. The best man's speech was tame by British reckoning (but surprisingly unflattering to the groom by Montenegrin standards), and both fathers gave their wishes and thanks to each other's families. Chris stunned the guests by delivering his speech in Montenegrin, and translating it for the Anglophones, reading some parts off the page, but speaking others unfalteringly. He then proceeded to lose all kudos gained from his speech with Vanja's family by dancing alongside his beautiful bride.

The sky lit up with stars over the coast and fireworks over Kotor's festival, also going on that night, and we indulged in the power ballads of the band by dancing, drinking, eating and squawking our little hearts out (yes, Ruth I was actually dancing, it wasn't a seizure). By the time the boat docked and everyone was off, we were all worn out from an experiential overload, and had to head home to pack for our 8.30am flight home (sorry Vanja! I know you wanted me to embarrass myself further by dancing in a club).

After a speedy packing process and long showers we got home for a few hours sleep before hopping back on our little Fokker of an airplane (sorry, I can't resist!) with our tans, our bottle of local red wine, and minus about 4 years of worries and stress which Tivat's coastal breeze blew away for us.

What more could you ask for of a summer holiday?