The Tale of the Killer Burek

Warning: do not read this post immediately before or after eating. Those with sensitive digestion proceed with caution...

Ok, now we all know what happens to our digestive systems when we go travelling. For example, I'm sure you've all heard of Bali Belly, Delhi Belly, or similar such things. In Albania, the locals call it Hoxha's revenge.

Or the opposite can happen. Your digestion gets so upset that not even prunes, figs or dates can help.

Me? I don't normally suffer from either. Normally. I have the stomach of a horse, or a cow or something. Certainly one the size of one!

So I was quite surprised to realise that until we arrived in Ulcinj, Montenegro, the last recorded action in that department was in Split. Some four days earlier. Hmm. Feeling a bit of discomfort really. Fortunately a couple of prunes sorted that one out.

But again, since Ulcinj, no action. No 'movement at the station', as it were. And this is again four days or so - and no prunes in sight. So I was starting to worry, to say the least.

Then we had that lovely fish dinner by Lake Ohrid. I had a fillet of carp. Now I don't normally have problems with seafood, but then I don't normally eat seafood fillets the size of a small whale, so I really wasn't surprised to see that it did the trick. Relief washed over me like a flood. Literally, a flood.

The next morning, Agata left early for the bus to Skopje, armed with some imodium. She had had fish too the night before, and was a bit frightened (after her experiences in Egypt) that she might have a repeat 'revolution' (as she called it), so we sent her off equipped with imodium for the 3 hour bus ride.

We got up a couple of hours later and made our way into town. En route we stopped off at a little bakery for some breakfast. Throughout our travels through ex-Yugoslavia we have discovered one national dish which is the same no matter where you go, a pastry filled with meat or cheese called burek, or byrek, depending on where you are. Now you have to remember that in Macedonia, they use the Cyrillian alphabet, so the word burek appears like this: БУРЕК. I've only just learned how to read that, whereas Agnieszka, being fluent in Russian, has no problem with it. Anyway, back to the story.

At the bakery I discovered that I can read this word 'burek' so I ordered one, quite delighted that I've managed to work it out for myself. Agnieszka ordered one too. But this particular burek (we chose the one with meat because from past experience, the cheese one mings) was not quite ready, and they had to go out the back and cook up another one. Fortunately because it took so long they only charged us half price. We should have taken that as a warning.

In Albania and Macedonia the locals eat this burek with natural yoghurt, which they just drink alongside the burek, so we ordered one too, thinking we were being very clever and having a traditional meal. I must just now point out I have had burek before, I did know what I was getting, I just hadn't had it with yoghurt before. That might have been the trigger. Either that or the fact that it was absolutely drenched, I mean the thing was swimming, nay, it had DROWNED, DIED, GONE TO HEAVEN and been resurrected in oil.

About 20 minutes after the burek we were in an internet cafe. I had intended to do some blogging but before I could even begin to log on to blogger, excruciating pain struck. Oh boy, was it painful. It was all I could do to log off, approach the internet cafe clerk and, doubled over at this point in agony, squeak out 'where's the toilet please?' - and as I did so, I realised Agnieszka was doing the same. Fortunately I beat her to the loo, where Vesuvius erupted, and I have been paying for it ever since.

That was more than 24 hours ago. I haven't drunk the tap water here, haven't brushed my teeth in tap water, none of that sort of stuff - yet every time I eat something, even just a piece of toast, it sets me off.

Trust me, it ain't pleasant either. They're not renowned here for having wonderful loos. Some of the loos are those old crappy (literally) squat ones.

And tonight we're on a 9 hour train journey to Belgrade. Pass the imodium...

It's 3am and we're homeless...

So after our experiences with Tiranese hospitals, footpaths, mad drivers and the like, it was time to think about moving on. However before we could do this, we had to figure out how to get out of there. Its one thing to get into Tirana, most buses in towns in Albania will go there, but getting out?

As I explained before, to get to the town of Kruja we had to find the Zogu i Zi roundabout. We had decided to go to Macedonia next, and we found the only way we could get there was a bus from the patch of mud in front of the train station - but you can't buy tickets there, no, you have to find some travel agent called Pollogu or something and buy them from there. And that agency works out of a little office on the first floor of a building with no name, but just look for "Peace" cafe, and you'll find it... seriously.

We found we could get tickets on the overnight bus to Struga, Macedonia, for 10 euros each. The bus left at 9.00pm and would arrive at 2.30am. So we still had a day to kill in Tirana, but nothing left to see. Well, not whilst there was electricity anyway. As I explained earlier, they turn the electricity off at different times and different points throughout the city - who wants to pay 300 leke to NOT see the National Museum? Anyway, we'd seen some nice pics of Albania in the guide book, found out they were from a town called Berat, so we decided to do a day trip there. But could we find the place where the bus goes from? You'd think it would be the bus station right, but no. That would make sense. We asked sooo many people, and kept getting different, conflicting information. One bloke told me to go straight ahead, where I would find the 'big Sahat' - what is a big sahat? Agata reckons he meant 'Pizza Hut' - but there wasn't even any of those here either...

Eventually we found someone who knew something, and we made it to some outlying little bus station somewhere, where we found buses to Berat. But by this point we were absolutely shattered - fortunately then that the bus ride (which we'd been told would take 1 1/2 hours) took, get this, THREE hours! Three hours of more kamikaze Albanian driving (fortunately on a proper coach, gunless driver - but again, you guessed it, no air-con)... this time it was mostly farmland we were passing, donkeys and the like pulling carts, a couple of roadside graves (seriously) and some concrete bunkers in the fields... oh and an overturned truck, a minivan stopped in the middle of the road, and an incompetent policeman (who was just standing by as the driver of the truck tried to brain the minivan guy for causing the accident).

Arrived in Berat more exhausted than when we left Tirana. And it was again sooo hot, we really didn't feel much like walking around - but we did anyway, and it was really nice. We saw this Ethnological museum which was based in an old Ottoman residence, with original furnishings, costumes and everything, very nice. Then we crossed the river and got the 'view of a thousand windows' (by the way if the computer I'm using now would recognise my camera, I'd include some pics, but hey. Not going to happen) - which is a whole hillside of Ottoman residences, very beautiful. By this point we'd seriously had it, so we had to stop off in a cafe for a frappe. After that it was time to get the bus back to Tirana, thank you very much, another 3 hours of madness - and this time I was stuck at the front of the bus and could see everything coming for us. But again, I survived to tell the tale.

Got back in time to have dinner then wait for the bus to Macedonia. The plan originally was to pre-book accommodation in Ohrid, which actually I did do, but then I got a text from the guy saying that they were full, sorry, there's a concert in Ohrid or something that night, no accommodation. Great. So we're arriving at 2.30am to what? A night in the bus station?

If only. No, when we finally got there (you have to go to Struga first then get a bus or taxi to Ohrid, the bus from Tirana doesn't go there direct) the bus station was, get this, the side of the road. Literally. The driver pulled over to the curb and let us off at 2.30am by the side of the road. With all our luggage. No city centre, bus station or even a bench to sleep on in sight.

Fortunately a young family got off at the same place as us and directed us to the nearest motel - phew. Oh no, not phew - it's full. So he phones up some hotel and sends us off looking for that. We get there and the price is a bit exxy - but I'm ready to take anything, I'm so tired. The girls however are keen to keep looking, so Agnieszka minds the luggage and Agata and I set off, 3am, looking for hotels. We find one but can't find the way in, and we ask one of the locals how to get in. It turns out he actually owns his own motel 1 km out of town, so we end up staying there. He tells us that the motel has its own taxi so we can make our way to Ohrid the next day, and that his Mum will make us a coffee in the morning. Perfect. It's clean, it's now very late - we crash for the night.

Next day this woman dishes us up what can only be described as mud in a cup. The spoon can stand upright unaided in this cup. And she's smiling at us, and encouraging us to drink it, nodding in the wrong way (by the way did I mention that in Albania and Macedonia if you nod your head it means 'no', not 'yes' - and if you mean 'yes' you half shake it like our 'no' - but in a figure of 8). So what can we do, close our eyes and pour this stuff down our necks. It was seriously vile. And all we really wanted was hot water so we could make our own drinks from the chai latte sachets Mum brought me from Oz...

Then she tried to charge us for it. What? Pay to drink mud? No thank you - so we told her that her son had said it was included and then basically hot-footed it out of there in search of the taxi. Uh-oh. Lie number 2. There is no taxi, we have to go stand out on the highway and try and hail one. Agata wanted to hitch-hike, and I might be stupid and drive in a minibus with a gunman, but I'm not dumb enough to hitch-hike, thank you very much. So we kept hailing every taxi that came past (of course they were already taken) and eventually one came back for us and took us to Ohrid.

At the bus station at Ohrid we met a funny old Macedonian bloke dressed in singlet vest, daggy shorts, thongs and wearing a green 'Bunnings' hat. So of course we simply had to talk to him - turns out his English name is Bob, and he spent some time (10 years) in Australia (actually his son lives there now with his wife and 2 kids). Bob and his wife Sophie rent out rooms in their house in the summer for tourists - so off we go, we now have accommodation for the night. Pretty good accommodation too, we have a kitchen we can cook in, a huge room for ourselves, and its not too far to the centre of town.
Struga and Ohrid are towns on Lake Ohrid, one of the oldest lakes in the world and the deepest in the Balkans. It is truly a very beautiful lake, and it alongside the town of Ohrid are UNESCO world heritage sites. We spent the rest of the afternoon (after a lengthy chat with Bob and Sophie about the benefits and disadvantages of having been part of Yugoslavia and now being a country on their own - seems to me anyone we ask about this preferred Yugoslavia) wandering about the town. This town is simply gorgeous, there's a load of 13th and 14th century churches with original frescoes and icons, and stunning views of the lake. Plus an amphitheatre built in the time of Christ which is just amazing. Oh and an ongoing archeological dig of an early Christian basilica.

We had dinner in a gorgeous restaurant by the edge of the lake, some lovely fish, then headed back to Bob and Sophie's to freshen up, as currently its the Ohrid Summer Festival, and this evening there's a concert in the Sophia church, a chamber orchestra from Skopje playing Bach, Mozart and Beethoven. So we head back for the concert, only we're a bit late and apparently the tickets are all sold out. We hang around outside anyway and Agata manages to sweet talk the bloke into letting us in - for free - and so we manage to catch the last couple of pieces. Excellent.

So all in all, we've pretty much well fallen on our feet here in Ohrid. Tomorrow we will farewell Agata as she heads back to work via Skopje, Belgrade and Budapest on the train, and we'll stay for a day at the lake. Nice.

The Kindness of Strangers

The afternoon of the crazy Kruja story, Agata decided that she really hadn't seen all the monuments, mosques, blades of grass and piles of dirt that is Tirana, so off we set in search of the huggy Mother Theresa statue which is allegedly in front of the University. This involved a rather long schlep in the heat of the afternoon, but eventually we found it. Dutifully, we took our pictures, some serious, but mostly stupid ones of us taking turns to hug Mother Theresa (I mean seriously, this statue has the woman with arms outstretched as if she either about to hug you or brain you with her left hook). I don't know why there's a load of statues of Mother Theresa in Albania, as technically she was born in Skopje, Macedonia - but she was born of Albanian parentage so that might be the reason - maybe its a Russell Crowe thing. You know, the Kiwis claim he's theirs, we Aussies say he's ours (until he makes a right fool of himself, and then he really is a Kiwi)... anyway.

So after this we begin the long, hard schlep back to the centre of town, quite happily walking along, minding our own business, chatting about the adventures of the day, walking 3 abreast, when suddenly Agnieszka full on drops to the ground and starts screaming. As I've mentioned before, the roads and pavements in Tirana (and to be fair, all of Albania) are pretty much well a construction site. Agnieszka has stepped on a loose manhole cover which has then flung up with the momentum and come crashing back down on her ankle, trapping her. Agata manages to release her and a crowd of onlookers starts to form. Suddenly a lovely Albanian couple (who fortunately speak perfect English) pull their car over and offer us a lift to the hospital. So we get in the car and off we go. They take us to the military hospital, which is the one dealing with bones, as we're not sure if its broken or sprained.

We arrive at the hospital and there is absolutely no waiting, we're just taken straight in to the radiographer's room. Agnieszka's ankle is x-rayed immediately and fortunately, there's no breaks. Next thing I know we're in another room with a different doctor and he gives her some advice on how to treat the swelling etc, and that's it. The whole visit was extremely quick. During this time, the woman who had stopped asked us if we had enough cash to pay for the visit, and then offered to help if not. Next thing I see her pass a wad of cash to her husband (don't get too excited, Albanian lekes come in large numbers but are pretty worthless, 200 lekes equal a pound), who then 'takes care' of the doctor. They wouldn't let us pay anything back to them either. Agnieszka and Agata reckon the bribed the doctor so he would see us 'under the carpet' as it were.

They then drove us back to the hotel after the hospital visit, now an hour or so after they stopped to help us. They still wouldn't accept any money, wouldn't let us take them out to dinner or repay them in any way, just were happy with our many thanks and appreciation.

How's that for being a good Samaritan, eh?

A funny thing happened along the way...

... to Kruja.

The next morning we got up fairly early and made our way to the absolutely mental Zogu i Zi roundabout, where you can get a furgon (minibus) to Kruja. We had heard that Kruja is a nice day trip from Tirana because it is a quaint little town at the top of the Kruja mountain range, and has spectacular views of the region as well as a 13th century castle which is a monument and shrine to the country's national hero, Skanderbeg, who successfully defended the country against the Turks for 2 decades.

Anyway.

After much seeking of directions (the Lonely Planet "Europe on a Shoestring" doesn't really cut it in the map department) we finally find the roundabout, and manage to find the bit of dirt from where the furgons to Kruja go. We were about to get into one, already packed, when we found out it wasn't going direct to Kruja and we would have to change - so another bloke approached us and led us to his minibus. May I just say at this point, he led from behind us, pointing out the way to the bus, whilst he drummed up more customers on the way. This is an important point for later in the story.

Of course, these furgons only go when they have enough people in them to make the trip worthwhile, so we waited for a bit until the driver thought it was appropriate to leave. I didn't actually get in the bus at this stage, as I went to get water. Maybe if I had, we might not have taken this particular furgon.

So eventually the driver comes running around the corner, gets in the van and starts it up - I've been sitting on a bit of grass outside the van as it was so hot so I hurriedly get in the van before he takes off. Once we get underway I notice something. First of all, the windscreen is so badly cracked that I have no idea how the driver can actually see out of it. Secondly, the rearvision mirror is not suspended from the ceiling as in normal vehicles, but resting on the dashboard. How can he actually see what's behind him? And this guy is a complete kamikaze, he has some dramatic deathwish or something, we weave in and out of traffic like nobody's business (which to be honest is how all Albanians drive) - what with all the 'bipping' of horns and overtaking on the wrong side, I begin to wonder whether we're caught somewhere in a cross between Italy and the Middle East. Not surprisingly, we rubbernecked our way past an accident on the road (only one?) - the two vehicles involved looked like complete right-offs. Not hard though when you consider that everyone is driving a clapped out, 20 year old bucket on wheels.

Our furgon is actually full but this doesn't stop the driver pulling over for everyone he sees on the side of the road to see if they want a lift too. I end up jammed in between this woman with her 8 year old son on her lap and this very smelly man.

There's all sorts of interesting things to see on the side of the road after the accident, kids squatting beside a little BBQ where they are grilling corn cobs to sell to motorists, or whoever happens to be passing, little stalls of fruit etc. Oh and a couple of people skinning a cow they just killed.

We go past a wrecker's by the side of the road, not too far past the accident, so maybe this was a bit of a bottleneck intersection or something - not far to go to collect more vehicles for the wrecker's yard, right? Anyway, suddenly our driver slams on the brakes, pulls off the side of the road, jumps out of the car, and that's the first time we see it. His gun. Yes, this guy full on has a gun tucked into the back of his trousers. And no, I didn't think it was an imitation, or a fancy cigarette lighter or something.

So now we have a bit of a predicament, do we get out of the furgon and wait by the side of the road, traffic madly whizzing past, maybe we could get killed by some mad kamikaze driver losing control of his vehicle, or do we stay in the furgon and maybe get killed by some mad kamikaze driver as he takes us on to some destination other than where we want to go... all sorts of scenarios and thoughts go through my head. Finally, the thought occurs to me that all these other people wouldn't be riding in this furgon with a mad gunman - I mean the woman with her 8 year old son saw the gun too and didn't bat an eyelid - maybe that's what you do in Albania. Carry guns. I don't know. We decided though that if at any point it looked like we were going to be the only ones left in the bus, we would get off.

We did eventually make it to Kruja in one piece, and then spent an hour in a cafe overlooking the valley getting over the shock. The town itself was very nice, the castle impressive - but nothing can possibly beat that journey to get there! Fortunately we managed to get a 'proper' bus back to Tirana - so nothing of note to report there, luckily...

BEAMET: Tirana, Albania

We ended up waiting for hours in Ulcinj for the bus to Albania, which again turned out to be one of those Montenegrin specials. We got all excited to see that the bus looked half decent, and began to dare to believe that, yes, Virginia, there really is a Santa Claus, and he just might give you an air-conditioned bus to ride in. Alas, Santa didn't deliver this time. The bus ride was ridiculously hot, and the 'air-conditioning'? Why, the open door again!

The border crossing was interesting. Some of us needed to pay an entrance tax of 10 Euros. I was unfortunately one of the unlucky ones, whereas Agata and Agnieszka, with their Polish passports, managed to skip this tax. Apparently I need to pay it again when leaving the country.

So, we arrive in Shkodra, hop off the bus and have a little bit of a wander around before transferring to the bus to Tirana. We were originally a bit apprehensive about the Albanian people thanks to the woman from Ulcinj, who said that they were all pickpockets and that it was very dodgy, but actually, nothing could be further from the truth. Everyone we met was very helpful and eager to please.

The main impression though which we got of Shkodra was the rubbish. Absolutely everywhere, these people seriously have not heard of bins. Or actually, they have, we did see some bins, they just don't use them.

Anyway an hour or so later we picked up the bus to Tirana, which again was not airconditioned, but the journey was ok. We arrived in Tirana late afternoon and wandered off to the youth hostel, which was full, but he sent us on to a hotel called Kalaja. Upon arriving at the hotel we were stunned to see there was no electricity, or any water for a shower. Apparently they do this everyday, turn off the electricity and water for a couple of hours, because the country's power demands exceed supply. Being unable to have a shower, or see to unpack anything, we wandered about the town. This is a bit of a hazard, as the pavements are unfinished, broken and uneven - would make a great BMX track (especially the bit just in front of the train station). Tirana is a bustling, energetic little city, with brightly painted buildings (painted all sorts of interesting colours, probably to try to cover up the drabness of communism as they are all ex-communist buildings) with absolutely mental drivers. The 'little green man' at pedestrian crossings doesn't mean 'walk' but 'run for your lives!' as the drivers completely disregard traffic signals. The only time you're safe is when you see a policeman directing the traffic.

Had dinner in a very nice and cheap restaurant called Era then headed back to the hotel after a long, tiring day.

Some pics...

Sarajevo

Jajce

Diocletian's Palace, Split

Hvar

Agata and Agnieszka in Dubrovnik

Me in Dubrovnik

Dubrovnik

Kotor - resting during our mountain climb

Devil don't come 'cos I won't go - its TOO HOT DOWN THERE!

At present we are in Montenegro. It's actually quite a beautiful place, in the sense that it has a beautiful coastline along the Adriatic (am still dubious about swimming though because of the Medusa), which is surrounded by magnificent, craggy mountains. The towns are quite historic, many are walled towns like Dubrovnik (although obviously not in the same league as Dubrovnik in that respect), with narrow, cobbled streets and gorgeous churches.

We got the bus on Saturday night from Dubrovnik to Kotor. Actually, I have to make some more comments about Dubrovnik, because since arriving on the coast in Croatia we haven't been staying in hostels but in small, family-run pensions, and the one in Dubrovnik was gorgeous. We were accosted at the bus station in Dubrovnik by this little old Croatian woman harping on about accommodation. We were quite stressed because we needed to find accommodation, but also, as the bus station is quite far from the town, we needed to sort out how to get out of Dubrovnik. And this woman wouldn't go away, nor did she seem to get that we needed to sort some stuff out first.

Anyway, eventually we were able to find out what we needed, and then negotiate a good price for the room, including transport to and from the bus station! (she offered her daughter Rose as chauffeur for this, lucky Rose, eh?). She had said that the room was a 15 minute walk from the Old Town, try more like 30 minute walk - but by this stage it was afternoon and technically cooling down a bit (yeah right! It was still 35 degrees...) The two main selling points though for the room was the view over the harbour (and boy, was there this absolutely gi-normous ship, bigger than QM2 I'm sure, parked out there in the harbour, looked magnificent), and the fact that the room had air-conditioning! Yay! So she gave us a lemonade, a map, bit of a chat about the place, and then off we went exploring the town. And the rest I told you about in the previous blog.

So, back to Montenegro. We get the bus from Dubrovnik to Kotor, and get this, it was NOT air-conditioned. 3 1/2 hours we spent on this bus! Sooo hot.

Finally arrived in Kotor where we are met again at the bus station by what we think are people trying to sell us accommodation, but it turns out that they are the next door neighbours of the place we have reserved, because this place has no proper address (well not any with any sort of numbers we could see). They take us to the place and the woman there is sooo nice, except a bit touchy-feely, like she practically hugged me at one point and also when there was a bit of a situation about the water (after I had had a shower) she was rubbing my back and making cooing noises as if to say "It's ok" - like I was upset or something? It turns out that in Montenegro quite regularly the towns run out of water, so everyone has a couple of buckets or bottles of water by the taps just in case. She thought that I might not have had any water for the shower, or mightn't have turned the tap off properly or something - because if you turn the tap and nothing comes out, you have to turn it back off or later on you could have a mini-flood when the water gets re-connected.

She was also really nice because she gave us 2 huge tomatoes when she saw that we were trying to cook up some pasta for tea. They were really delicious too.

Anyway, the next day we headed off on a bit of a walk around Kotor. This place is so cute, with the cobbled stones (fortunately not as slippery as Rohinj, Hvar or Split - where you stacked it all the time on the worn out cobbles), narrow streets, rusty iron balconies, hairdressers... yes, you read right, there are more hairdressers per head in Kotor than anywhere else in the world! But we did do a stupid thing, we hiked up this mountain (in the stinking heat) to see the view of the Kotor Fjord from the old fortifications. Seriously, I was melting sooo much, and about 3/4 of the way up we decided that the view at the top would be much the same, so let's go back down, thank you very much. Had to have yet another gelati to regain my strength after such excertions.

The reason though, for the title of this blog, is to do with the buses in Montenegro. About 2pm we caught a bus from Kotor to Budva, with the intention of finding accommodation in Budva for the evening. We end up on this rickety old thing - a cross between a minibus and a proper coach - it did have room for our luggage underneath - but no airconditioning, and we were packed in there with the locals and with the chairs that didn't move back, or were permanently reclined so you had no room behind them. Oh boy was it hot! They had thick black curtains hanging from the windows to keep the sun out (but the heat in, of course). So after 40 minutes or so we arrived in Budva, sweat dripping down our backs. There was no, absolutely none, zilch accommodation in Budva. At least none for only 1 night. So we leave our luggage in Budva and get a local bus to Cetinje, to see the monastery where they have the mummified right hand of John the Baptist and also a bit of the real cross of Christ. Now this bus was a real adventure! Instead of the thick black curtains, these ones were red, and the bus was pretty much well packed, so I was crammed in at the back, no airconditioning, and no air at all because the sun roof thing was at the front of the bus.

Anyway, the monastery was very interesting, except we had to dress up in these white dresses because its a working monastery, with male monks, and they might get distracted by women in stringy tank tops and shorts... so I looked like an extra for Casper the Friendly Ghost, or something. Despite this, I enjoyed the monastery visit, and I have to say I thought it was quite interesting to see the mummified right hand of John the Baptist, and the little bit of the cross of Christ (they've made it into a mini cross). There were heaps of people crowding around to see it.

In Cetinje there is also a palace you can visit of Nicolas, the last king of Montenegro, which looked quite interesting, although we didn't get to see it because it was closing time (but Agata saw some because she went in to ask for directions and they showed her around quickly). However his daughter was the first woman in the Balkan states to pass her driver's licence.

After Cetinje, we had yet another Montenegrin bus ride back to Budva, this bus just as bad (if not worse) than the previous two - and the driver obviously had a bit of a death wish, I think he is really Michael Schumacher's Montenegrin cousin or something... speed demon to say the least. And I was stuck next to some bloke who obviously had never heard of deodorant!

Our final bus journey of the day though really took the cake. We got the bus from Budva to Ulcinj. This bus, from the exterior, looked like a normal coach. I started to get a bit excited at the prospect of several hours in air conditioned comfort, after all this ridiculous, sweaty heat. Especially as I thought that the windows were frosted over from condensation, thus indicating that air conditioning had been running at some point.

You know I was wrong, don't you. This bus was Satan's bus. Hotter than a hell hole. Let me put it this way, the bus was absolutely packed, even to the point that people were standing, again the seats were permanently reclined onto your lap, no room to move at all. The air vents (let alone conditioning) didn't work, so there was no circulation at all. There was no sun roof pop up air vent thingy, and the only way that air got into the bus at all? Through driving along with the door open...

It felt like an eternity later, but was actually only 2 hours or so, and we arrived in Ulcinj, to again find no accommodation available. Only now the tourist information is closed, and our only option is either to sleep in the bus station or find a taxi who might know of some place. So we opted for the taxi option, and he phoned a friend - and we ended up in a house for 5 euros each. Cheapest accommodation ever, with a very friendly woman who wanted me to fix her camera (I did my best but hey. I couldn't fix it).

So now we're waiting for a bus to Tirana, Albania. Will this relentless heat ever let up? Will we find somewhere to stay? Will Agnieszka ever reach that elusive goal to be "chocolate brown"? Stay tuned...

BEAMET: Split, Hvar and Dubrovnik

Ok so when I left you on the blog we were in Split. I have to say I really liked Split. My favourite place was obviously Diocletian's Palace, which is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Inside this palace which was established by the Emperor Diocletian at the end of the 3rd century AD is a web of shops, cafes, restaurants, boutiques, plus the mausoleum (which is now the Cathedral of St Doimus). No matter what time of day or night there is always something going on there. When we were there the first night Split was having some sort of musical festival and they were performing Verdi's Nabucco in the palace area, but unfortunately I found out about it too late and couldn't get tickets. The acoustics were pretty good though so we did hear a bit. The next day we wandered about the town for a bit in the morning, until our ferry at 11.00am to Hvar Island. This was a fast catamaran so Agnieszka was disappointed she couldn't sit outside and "get sun tan" which is one of her main aims for this trip (to be "chocolate brown"). I didn't mind, because the catamaran was air conditioned, which was a blessing as it has been unbearably hot. We arrived at Hvar town and had a bit of a wander, it was very beautiful. Then we decided to go for a swim in the Adriatic (for more on this read my earlier blog "Wings, stings and little bitey things"). After my experience with the medusa I ended up on the main square having a gelati to calm my nerves. You know how it is. We had to get a bus from Hvar town to the other side of the island, to the ferry port at Stari Grad in order to catch the ferry back to Split. This was a huge thing, Agnieszka was pleased because it wasn't a catamaran so she could sit out on the deck. The next day we got the bus to Dubrovnik, this took some 4 1/2 hours and was quite scenic, although the guy was a bit of a mad man and one bloke was therefore sick. I hadn't realised that the Croatian coastline is interrupted by 2 kms of Bosnia - Hercegovina, which meant that we had another passport check, just as well I didn't need a visa for Bosnia. At the bus station in Dubrovnik we were immediately accosted by people offering us accommodation, and we managed to find a very nice guesthouse overlooking the bay. We then wandered down to the Old Town, and did a walk of the walls (which cost 50kuna but was well worth it). I think Dubrovnik is very beautiful, and I particularly enjoyed the view from the walls over the houses with their terracotta tiles and also over the harbour. Had nice seafood for dinner after the walk. Today we've just been wandering about Dubrovnik, we went to the Pharmacy Museum which was ok, apparently its the oldest pharmacy in the world. Then Agnieszka headed off for the beach whilst Agata and I wandered about the town. Tonight we're on the bus to Kotor, Montenegro - country number 4 on this epic journey...

BEAMET: Croatia and Bosnia / Herzegovina

Hi all,

Well if you've survived the blog about the bitey things, you may now be interested to see where we've been and what we've been up to.

Since the previous Beamet blog, we have been to the following places; Slovenia - Ljubljana, Postojna caves, Piran; Croatia - Porec, Rohinj, Zagreb; Bosnia / Herzegovina - Jajce, Sarajevo, Mostar; Croatia - Split, Hvar Island (and today we're making our way to Dubrovnik).

It has been an amazing trip so far and we're still only at the start. I have to say for me a real highlight was the Postojna caves, which are just amazing. They are full of stalagmites and stalagtites and the cave system is some 20km long. We only got to see a few kms but it was just incredible, and the acoustics were fabulous. At one point, when we got to the concert hall, I simply couldn't resist, and in true Aussie fashion let out an almighty 'coo-ee' which resounded for about 10 seconds. The Italian girls choir who were giving an impromptu recital were not impressed!

Piran was gorgeous, its a Venetian port on the coast of Slovenia with lots of cute cobbled streets, excellent seafood and a real relaxed vibe. I could've happily stayed there for a few days. And Dad would've loved the harbour with its boats. To be honest, Dad you'd have loved Porec, Rohinj and Split for the same reasons. There are some gorgeous looking boats here.

I really like Croatia, I think it has a good vibe and the people are very friendly and helpful. But I have to say I didn't think that about Bosnia. First of all, you could seriously tell you had moved to a different country the minute you crossed the border, because the first thing you saw was a building scarred by artillery marks, and then a dirty great big Mosque (BiH is mostly muslim). Then there was the state of the cars - everybody drives around in a banged up old jalopy, and no wonder when you see their driving. Seriously, I once read in a Bill Bryson book that 'no one should have shared the secret of the motor car with the Italians' - well that should apply to BiH as well. The highway to Sarajevo, if you could call it a highway, is a single lane, windy road through the mountains (which it must be said are very picturesque and beautiful). The speed limit on these roads, well I don't know what it was, but I couldn't manage more than 60 without having difficulty as each new bend approached, yet we were being overtaken left, right and centre by these flying junkboxes with wheels. And as for driving on the right hand side of the road, well, the number of times we nearly got clipped by motorists approaching from the opposite direction but well and truly on our side of the road was astonishing.

We arrived eventually to Sarajevo after a quick stop in a gorgeous little medieval town (again scarred by war though) called Jajce. This town has a huge waterfall right in the centre, and it was simply stunning. Anyway, Sarajevo. We didn't get into town until quite late, like 10pm or so. Time is quite deceptive here as the sun doesn't set properly until 9pm, so you often find yourself travelling a lot longer in the day than you possibly intended. So we arrive, and we find a couple of guesthouses in the centre of town (they advertise them as hostels but they´re private houses). One has only got 2 beds (we obviously need 3) and the other has got 3. So we go for that one, but its getting very late now, and the guy is trying to be very helpful, but I´ve been driving all day, and I don´t need to hear about every single thing there is to see and do and Sarajevo. Anyway, Agata stays to find out the information whilst Agnieszka and I see the room. We discover a cooker in the room, and seeing as we´ve been lugging bags of pasta around (in the interests of cutting costs), Agnieszka goes and asks if its possible to use the stove. Next thing, the guy gets all in a huff, I don´t know exactly what is said, but the next thing I know he gives us our money back and chucks us out!

So itś 11pm, we have nowhere to go. Fortunately the place that only had 2 beds has now found a 3rd, and we ended up there for the night, but it certainly didn´t give me a positive vibe about Sarajevo.

Next day we did some sightseeing in Sarajevo, which was very hot, but interesting, and by chance at breakfast we were sat next to a Finnish girl who told us about the Tunnel Museum, which is set in the tunnel that the Bosnians built under the airport to smuggle food into and people out of Sarajevo during the Bosnia - Serbia war some 12 years ago. Do you think we could find this museum? We drove everywhere looking for the thing, asked about 6 Bosnians for directions (memo to self: never ask a Bosnian for directions... we were sent so many different ways and none of them were right!). At one stage we encountered a couple of kids actually playing on the highway (go figure!?) Eventually we found it through directions from a taxi driver (but I misunderstood some of the directions and ended going up a dirt track...). It took us nearly 2 hours to find the museum, but once we were there, it was totally worth it. Especially as one of the girls visiting the museum was actually a Bosnian survivor of the war, who as a child had used the tunnel to be smuggled out to the countryside to be reunited with the rest of her family. Her accounts were very moving and made the experience very sobering.

Anyway, after Sarajevo we went to Mostar, which was a couple of hours drive down the road, but was a beautiful Medieval town which has the iconic Stari Most bridge which is the symbol of all Bosnia. This bridge was totally destroyed during the war but they have since rebuilt it, and it is truly beautiful. We had amazing accommodation in this place (even had the luxury of air conditioning! yay! Although we had no hot water for showers... beggars can´t be choosers I guess).

So after Mostar we headed back into Croatia to Split, where we had to return the car. So stay tuned for stories of our experience in Split...

Wings, Stings and Little Bitey Things

I am the Chosen One. Truly.

Now don't be too jealous, you don't know what exactly it is that I have been chosen for. You see, Agnieszka thinks I was chosen when we were in Bled, but I think it was more likely Zagreb, as it was the next day in Zagreb that I discovered my true calling.

Which is? Why, to be the main attraction for all wings, stings and little bitey things. I woke up in Zagreb to discover 42, yes, that's 42 insect bites on my body. I don't know whether the hostel there had bed bugs, or whether there were just mosquitos or something in the room, but these things aren't real little. They're huge welt like shapes on my body. And not just on my legs and arms - no, I've got 3 under my left arm pit, 1 in between my toes, couple on my torso, 7 up my left leg (I must've been lying on my right side because for some reason I don't have many bites on the right) and even my fingers were not spared. It's ridiculous. I look like some sort of leper or something.

And the stupid thing is I left the aerogard at home. I didn't think I'd need it here. So, we spent quite some time that morning wandering about Zagreb looking for insect repellent. Fortunately I found some, so there hasn't been any repeat biting sessions, but now of course there's the itch factor - luckily I had something with me for that!

Then, when we were driving in Bosnia (an experience in itself, I tell you - but one I'll probably save for another blog), just as night was falling (on our approach to Sarajevo) and when I was driving, we were suddenly accosted by a plague of all things with wings. Seriously. It looked like it was raining. You couldn't see anything through the windscreen - and that was when we discovered we didn't have any screen wash in the car. Fortunately there was a servo nearby and we could clean the blighters off.

But to cap it all off, yesterday we took a ferry from Split to Hvar Island. It was a very hot day, and I had packed my togs in preparation for a swim in the Adriatic. In I jump, and seriously, I was in there for all of 2 minutes when I felt a sharp pain in my right shoulder. I look down, and there's a red hair like thing sticking out. So its off to the nearest pharmacy, where the woman informs me that I've been stung by a medusa, which I think is some sort of jelly fish. Now I didn't see the thing that stung, but oh boy, was it painful, and boy, did my shoulder swell up. So I had to buy some cream which I now have to apply twice a day.

We're going to Montenegro hopefully tomorrow. Wonder what insects await me there...