Day 305: Climbing the fortifications of Kotor

Kotor is lovely. It’s even more lovely after the daily cruise ship departs in the afternoon. We decided to wait until it was gone before we climbed up to the top of the fortifications of Kotor. You know how to tell you’ve been traveling for awhile? When you become more mouthy towards the person(s) charging an entrance fee for something you weren’t expecting to be charged for.

“Is this for real, or did you just put this table here and start collecting money?” Andrew asked the woman sitting behind a table, under an umbrella with what appeared to be a fan mounted on the outside of her house blowing warm air over her.

She was less than impressed. As were we, when an overly enthusiastic tourist informed us “It’s not so expensive, and it’s totally worth the view.”

I’m fairly positive there was a collective rolling of the eyes from me, Andrew, Josh, and Leanne. Not that we didn’t believe the view would be worth it, but at his enthusiasm over us paying a fee. A fee that might be small to him, but to us, after traveling for 10-16 months… Well, let’s just say they add up. We paid, and then started climbing the 1,350 stairs up. in flip flops. with a bum heel, still, because I have yet to reunite with my Nikes (currently awaiting my arrival in England).

Along the way up, we heard a North American accent judge us all for our choice of shoes. (Three of us were wearing flip flops.) I didn’t realize she was talking about us until Leanne laughed about it. Had I known she was talking about us, I would have talked in an equally loud voice so she could have easily overheard my conversation. I would have elaborated (loudly) about my sheer stupidity for keeping the wrong pair of ‘gym shoes’ (barefoot water shoes) instead of my Nike running shoes. And how if it were not for being over budget on my trip around the world, I would have gladly bought shoes that other judgmental tourists might approve of.

I love rooftops like these. Why can’t we have similar pretty tiled roofs in Kentucky? There’s so much more character to them than shingles!

Before Andrew and I got to the top (my heel tends to slow us down) Josh peeked his head out of an opening in the fortification from above, and waved, reminding Andrew of the Monty Python and the Holy Grail. They laughed and Josh admitted to channeling the movie.

On our way down, I introduced ‘Scenario’ to Josh and Leanne. ‘Scenario’ (in case I haven’t explained it before, or you’re new to the blog) is a game that my friend, Lindsay taught me where you give fun/funny scenarios instead of the usual “Say cheese!” before taking a picture. Josh’s first scenario: He just walked in on Andrew trying on my delicates in our shared apartment.

Josh wanted to practice giving a scenario. It was something along the lines of someone being extra smelly. I was pointing to Andrew.

Day 304: Montenegro, What country is that in?

Today was my sister’s birthday! (Yay! Happy Birthday Gina!) So, I of course, spent most of the day reminding myself to call her and NOT to forget. This can sometimes be a process. When we were in Korea, it was always easy to know what time I could call someone stateside. Now that we are jumping time zones so often, it can be difficult. There are at least four different times on my computer so I can keep track of what time it is where. I called. I missed her. She emailed. I called again.

“So where are you now?” She asked.

“Montenegro.” I told her.

“What country is that in?”

“It is the country.” I confirmed, relieved when she cracked up at herself.

“Oh! Well where is it?”

“You know how there is a sea on the right side of Italy ? (I explained, as if she were looking at a map) It’s on the other side of that sea, the Adriatic.”

“So above Greece?”

“Yea, above Greece.”

“Ok, I know where you are now.”

It seems as though Montenegro has been blowing up lately on the tourist circuit. Staying inside the walls of Kotor Stari Grad (Old City) we were getting used to the amount of tourists rolling in off of their giant cruise ship for the day, flooding the little city, walking around in big groups- too big to walk together through some of the narrow passageways. We decided to get out of dodge and headed up the coast to see some of the other smaller towns along the Bay of Kotor. First, we headed to Risan, the oldest settlement on the bay:

Risan was quiet and without any other tourists, which was a nice change. But there wasn’t much to do… Except, perhaps to see the Roman mosaics. They are ancient, and I get that, but I’m a bigger fan of the Ottoman mosaics myself.

In the middle of the bay, Our Lady of the Rocks Church sits on a man-made island of rocks and sunken ships full of rocks. The other islet holds the Saint George Benedictine monastery and apparently a cemetery for old nobility around Kotor Bay. We didn’t go to either, but instead admired from afar. We mostly walked along the seaside through Perast. It, too, was quiet. A few other tourists roamed the street, but not many, and even fewer people roamed the streets when it started raining.

Day 303: Overcoming the 10 Month Travel Slump

We woke up in beautiful Kotor, Montenegro. After driving through a buzzing Budva the night before, we were grateful we were staying down the coast inside the walls of a slightly smaller, and much less crowded version of Dubrovnik. After lucking out meeting Vladimir and Marija in Belgrade, and starting to break out of the ‘slump,’ both Andrew and I were looking forward to reuniting with our ‘Round the World’ travel buddies, Josh and Leanne. (We went on safari together in Tanzania, and then met up again in Turkey just in case you forgot.) Meeting up with friends while we’re traveling is one thing. Making new friends on our travels is another, wonderful thing. But meeting up with friends, who are also on a trip around the world, in country #3 is a whole new amazing ballgame. Because not only do we get to feel like we really do have friends, but we have friends who get it. Who get what it’s like to travel around the world. Who get that it’s amazing, but sometimes hard. Who get the 10 Month Travel Slump. Even when you wake up to a beautiful city in a brand new country that you can’t wait to explore.

We had a few (ok, many) heart to hearts. We agreed how strange it is to travel around the world but at times feel like we’re missing out on so much back ‘home.’ How annoying our schedules are and how much our diet changes. How wonderful a good salad can be. How we’re tired a LOT of the time. How annoying expensive countries are after traveling through particularly inexpensive ones. Leanne and I totally related to each other being absolutely sick of our clothes. You know that feeling when you open your closet (full of clothes) and groan how you have nothing to wear? Imagine only having a backpack. Uh… yea… I don’t think I’ll ever complain about a closet full of clothes again.

We laughed about how weekends can be the worst. No one emails us on the weekends. If we were home, and following a ‘normal’ schedule, we wouldn’t even notice, but while traveling, days of the week aren’t exactly kept track of. If I wake up to no new messages, chances are it’s a Saturday. We joked about when the best time to put a status up on Facebook is. Monday mornings. That’s when we’re most likely to get some love from everyone we miss talking to or seeing on a regular basis. We all agreed, probably no one reads our blogs, wondered why no one comments, and promised each other we would comment on each other’s just to make each other feel better. Maybe we shouldn’t be hurt when we don’t hear from close friends, but we sometimes are. This led to something of a debate whether or not we will have the same relationships we had when we left.

They gave us an unintentional pep talk (mostly just by understanding the slump) about the trip. They revealed they went through their own 10 month travel slump, but then they showed us why we’re all doing this crazy, amazing adventure, by a wonderful montage they made of their trip (so far). Andrew and I both watched it in awe, smiling and pointing out places we’ve also been, or asking if it was where we thought it was. I thought it was so amazing of them for doing the trip, and then I remembered ‘Oh yea, I’m doing that too!’ and suddenly everything felt possible and wonderful and I felt so grateful I was doing the exact same thing they were doing. It was a really incredible feeling to have realized I couldn’t say “Ohmigod, that’s awesome, I wish I was doing that!” because I already am doing it. WE are doing it, maybe a bit poorly lately (not being as enthusiastic about it as we should) but we’re doing it! And now that we’re well on our way of overcoming the 10 month travel slump, we’ll be back on top of the world in no time!

In case you’re trying to overcome your own ten month travel slump, or you’re curious how our wonderful friends, Josh and Leanne helped us get out of our’s, you can check out their video, here:

Meanwhile, in Kotor, there was an art festival for children going on. There were a few different art installations set up around the city. The giant hanging laundry outside of a church in the walled in old town was my favorite. Maybe I was just super excited that a washing machine came with the apartment the four of us rented and I didn’t have to wash anything by hand…

Day 302: Stranger on a train

We were told the train ride from Belgrade to Kotor was beautiful and worth going during the day to see. I’ve heard this before. I take this kind of advice with a grain of salt. Vladimir hoped out loud that we would get our own cabin on the train for the journey. We explained that we have come to expect the absolute worst when it comes to a plane/train/bus ride between countries, and then become remarkably happy when it’s better than expected. Not only did the ride turn out to be just as beautiful as described, but we DID get our own cabin and the ride was peaceful and pleasant. I even made a friend in the hallway. Some would say stranger – stranger on a train – I say friend.

He asked me where I was from, talking and blowing smoke into my face simultaneously.

“Holland? England?” He asked.

“No, USA.” I replied, trying to dodge the smoke in the small hallway.

“Sorry, my English, no good.” he smiled, exhaling another cloud of smoke into my face.

“That’s ok!” I smiled, and started back towards our cabin for some fresh air.

Later, he peeked his head into our cabin to ask for a lighter. Andrew put his hands on his pockets and pulled empty hands up to his face, suggesting he didn’t have one. The man asked again, like maybe we misunderstood what he was asking for. Andrew nodded, trying to convey that he did understand what he was looking for, we just didn’t have one. The man looked at us like we were crazy, as if he were wondering how we were going to smoke without a lighter.

As I stood outside of our cabin looking at the view from the other side of the train, he ambled down the hallway towards me, cigarette in hand.

“You are from America, but why you sound English?” He asked, confused by my accent. I smiled, not at all offended by his curiosity. (Usually this is my least favorite question. Because, usually it’s presented quite differently. Like I must not be from Kentucky if I don’t sound like it… Or I might be lying about where I am from because I don’t fit into someone else’s stereotype.)

I shrugged with my smile and admitted I wasn’t quite sure. He told me about Montenegro, our conversation sometimes difficult to follow as we were standing next to an open window on a train going fairly fast. We would pause our conversation every time we went into a tunnel and start back up again coming out. We talked about the monastery we passed on the train. He told me about the different religions getting along in his town. He asked me if I have read some Dostoevsky and I felt bad admitting that I haven’t. I joked with Andrew later, that I should have said, “No, but I have read “50 Shades of Grey”, have you?

Then he pointed out his house on the hillside of the town we were getting ready to pull into. I asked him if I could take his picture before he left, and he obliged before grabbing his bags and then stepping into our cabin one last time to say goodbye and wish us luck on our travels. Exchanges like these make my heart so big on this trip. In Korea, I would get really excited when the convenient store clerk near our apartment would remember me  and ask how I was doing. It made me feel like I was home. Not in the literal sense of Korea being like Kentucky, but just that someone knew my face. Even if it’s a few conversations within the span of one day, or striking up one conversation with a stranger, someone opening up their world to me, just for a moment is one of the biggest reasons to travel, and for me, personally, to continue to travel.

Day 301: an extra day in Belgrade

We decided to stay an extra day in Belgrade because we were slightly rained out the day before, and well, we loved our hosts. We probably could have done a lot more with an extra day in the city, but we enjoyed walking around and people watching, and then looked forward to dinner with Marija and Vladimir and then, bonus: Vladimir’s adorable brother. Andrew asked about what life was like during the war, a bit hesitant if it would be a touchy subject. Vladimir kinda laughed at us and said it was a bit of the elephant in the room and that they expected most couchsurfer guests to ask about it. It was interesting to hear how mostly, in Marija’s case, she remembered being bored at her Grandmother’s house outside of the city.The bombings were mostly spot on their government building targets that school would be canceled and… well in a very broad sense, that was it. They asked us what we thought about it, and didn’t judge me when I basically said I was preoccupied with high school,  learning how to drive, and didn’t know much about the situation. Sometimes I feel a bit silly, at how much of a bubble I have lived in (in America). I also continually wish I had paid more attention to my History classes and wish I had made it a point of keeping up on my current events more. Learning so much everyday on this trip is great, as long as you can ignore how much of an idiot you are for not already knowing (or remembering) it.

One of my favorite parts of our conversation was when we mentioned our plan to travel until Thanksgiving. Andrew asked if they knew about American Thanksgiving. Our new favorite Serbian friends promptly made fun of him for asking, insisting that they’ve seen Friends. I assured them that it’s tradition that someone must get the turkey stuck on their head every year. (wink wink) Vladimir’s brother thought for a minute and then agreed, he had seen it on Grey’s Anatomy.

As a former English teacher, and somewhat lazy language learner myself, it continues to amaze me how much English (and culture in some cases) others are able to pick up from American television shows. Then Andrew and I both admitted that so many Americans can be too lazy to watch foreign language films.

We were laughed at again.

“But, that’s how you watch a movie!” Marija or Vladimir exclaimed.

“Not in America… We remake the entire movie!” Andrew shook his head.

Day 300: Travel Angels in Belgrade

I’m not sure if Marija and Vladimir really exist. Because I’m pretty sure they were angels sent down by the travel gods to remind us why we are doing this epic trip around the world. I mean, obviously they are real people. They are real, wonderful, lovely, hospitable Serbians that were a breath (of very much needed) fresh air. We woke up to a home-cooked Serbian breakfast and more enjoyable conversation. So enjoyable in fact, that they lit’rally had to remind us that we were there to see their city, not to hang out in their apartment the entire time! And off we went, to walk around town and see the Belgrade Fortress.

We walked through the main street in town, enjoying the relaxed nature of the city. Granted, it was a Sunday, but it was so calm and enjoyable! People were out and about walking their dogs, playing with their kids, having coffee (or beer) with friends. It was lovely. Andrew and I agreed that it was the city (so far) in the Balkans that we would pick to live in. Nothing against the others, there was just a more gentle, relaxed vibe here that we both noticed immediately.

We headed to the Fortress and sat people watching most of the time. The weather was beautiful right up until we timed it perfectly to sit down and have a coffee. And, then it rained. We used the weather as a good excuse to look for new shorts for Andrew (ok, I’ll admit it, and to look at the sale prices in Zara for me) and then, when we couldn’t figure out where the movie theater was in town (to see if Despicable Me 2 was playing), we headed back to Marija and Vladimir’s.

If you missed Day 299, you should know that it was a rough day, nearing the end of a bit of a difficult month of travel. Not the month specifically, nor the wonderful places we visited, but more like the length of this trip hitting me hard. Staying with Marija and Vladimir could not have come at a better time. Whenever we tell people (especially Americans) unfamiliar with this network, they usually gape and question our level of crazy for showing up to a STRANGER’S(!) house in a foreign country to spend the night. We’re familiar with this response. Pretty much everyone who is on couchsurfing is also familiar with this response, and we all laugh about it together. But the truth is, we’ve had a really wonderful experience with it and staying with Marija and Vladimir is no different. We went out for dinner, and again, stayed up later than we (at least Andrew and myself) usually do chatting. We tried to express how grateful we were to have met them, but they shrugged it off, not taking us seriously at all. Later, I had to restrain myself from giving them a big (huge) hug goodnight.

I went to bed thinking not of how hard Month 10 has been, but how wonderful this opportunity (and MANY opportunities along the way) to meet them has been. Sometimes on this trip, our emotions get crazy. They swing back and forth from one extreme to the other, and I have to remind myself of that before I inform Andrew that I’m ready to jump ship. Or maybe, I have to remind myself to thank him for not taking me too seriously.

Day 299: Traveling around the world is no holiday

You know that feeling you get in the middle of winter (granted, that feeling you get when you live somewhere that gets cold for months on end) and you’re just not… happy. There’s nothing particularly bad going on in your life, it’s just… winter and chances are you’re lacking Vitamin D or something and you’re just a little sad and you feel a bit lethargic? That’s what Month 10 has been feeling like. Again, being sick – then Andrew waking up with similar sick-ish feelings – then finding out we got a speeding ticket in South Africa- then finding out Citibank has been charging me up to $20 for each ATM withdraw. It hasn’t been good. I’ve found myself all through Month 10 going through the motions of getting up, packing our bags, and walking around a new town following a strange, but somewhat set routine. I was going through the motions much like I used to do going into work everyday. Only, we’d be in a different country every couple of weeks (sometimes days) walking around so much beauty and history and learning so much more than I ever did going to the same job day after day. It made me stop and think. I wondered if continuing this epic trip really WAS worth it or not, especially if I was being so blasé about it. It sounds crazy, I know. Many people think traveling around the world is a never-ending vacation. It must always be easy and magical and awesome, right? But the truth is- it’s SO MUCH HARDER and more challenging than I thought it would be. And sometimes – quite simply – there are days like these. Traveling around the world is no holiday.

I debated quitting the trip. Really, I did. Instead of my goal to finish a children’s book about a girl from Kentucky going around the world- what if I were to rewrite The Little Engine that Could. Only, it would be The Little Engine that Couldn’t. I mean, who needs to achieve things? What’s wrong with QUITTING? I even wondered what the point of continuing this blog everyday was. The last time I posted about a bad day (in India, involving pushy tuk-tuk drivers) I got a somewhat negative comment that the reader didn’t appreciate my lack of optimism and excitement about this trip. I tried to explain I still was excited, but it was a bad day, and especially in India, bad days happen. I reminded myself that I am NOT a travel writer (even though I KNOW travel writers have bad days, too). I’m a photographer. an artist. I wanted to document this trip as it really is- as it really can be- not a blog that sugar coats travel, the challenges involved, you know… life.

I figured I would keep traveling, but continued to debate blogging about it. Maybe that one commenter was right, who wants to read about bad travel days? I tried to convince Andrew that no one really reads the blog anyway… But he didn’t buy it. He was all “You’ve done it for this long and you’re going to quit now?”

“Yep.” I responded, obviously letting my emotions get the best of me.

I lusted after a group of friends drinking coffee outside in a cafe and told Andrew, “I wish I had friends…”  He reminded me that I have them. I grumbled that it didn’t feel like it.

I checked my Instagram feed. Usually this makes me feel better. I cooed (Lit’rally, cooed) over an adorable baby picture that my friend posted. I nodded my head in agreement at one of the comments declaring adorable pictures like this one were making her baby crazy. And then narrowed my eyes when I saw that the new mom had urged her Instagram friend to “Do it” as in “Do it, have a baby.” Like it’s THAT easy. Sure, the picture makes me a little baby crazy too, and I’d like to have a baby, too- someday. But right now, I’m busy!

If you follow ME on Instagram, you’ll see just how busy I am, playing ‘Edward mug-hands’ in Bucharest. Visiting Dracula’s Castle just outside of Brasov. Photographing street art in Belgrade. And more recently roaming the streets of Montenegro and now, Croatia. I’m trying to tackle my dream of traveling around the world for one year, even if it includes trying to ignore the fact that I have a pending speeding ticket in South Africa. I have a pile of expensive American Citibank ATM fees that I haven’t had the chance to sit on a long distance phone call to the bank to take care of. I have worn the same five outfits for the past ten months. I haven’t slept in the same bed for more than three (ok, maaaaybe four) nights in a row. I can’t even go out for dinner without doing some kind of currency conversion to figure out if I can afford to eat at that particular restaurant or not. And now Instagram is telling me to “Do it, have a baby!”

As if Facebook wasn’t enough pressure, NOW Instagram, too?!?

This is my dream. This is my dream. To travel around the world for one year. I’m doing it. It’s really hard sometimes, but I can do it. 

I tried to remind myself over and over again.

Andrew could tell I wasn’t in a good place. He tried to remind me how many people might not be able to relate to our feelings on this trip and perhaps they have a different view of it entirely than we do- especially on our worst day.

I’m sure he was (is) right. He usually is (even if I don’t admit it to him).

I recently wished a friend (on Facebook, of course) ‘Happy Birthday’ I told him I hoped it was awesome.

He responded “Not as awesome as a year long vacation!”

I yelled at my ipod, “VACATION?!? YOU THINK THIS IS A VACATION? THIS ISN’T A VACATION!”

I told Andrew about it. He laughed. And agreed, but reminded me how much we’re going to miss it when it’s over. I sighed. Again, knowing how right he is. He went into his usual pep-talk about this trip and all that we have learned from it. About us, and what we’ve managed to survive together. About how bored we’re going to be days when we get back to ‘merica, but how we’ll appreciate it so much more because we haven’t had a home for so long and how we haven’t been surrounded by friends for so long and how we haven’t had a coffee shop or a bar where we can simply walk in and say “I’ll take the usual” and they’ll know what we’re talking about. And not because we both speak English, but because we saw them last week and the week before that, and we ordered the SAME thing!

I heard him out and eventually I tried to focus my attention on all of the positive of this trip, instead of the ten months without a home and the related feelings that were starting to suffocate me. I focused on the emails from my friends (and family) that DO stay in touch and tried to forget about the ones who really haven’t. I focused on those who have said “Thanks!” for postcards I have sent home. I focused on Andrew’s Dad (yes, you!) who I know appreciates reading this blog (even though I know he won’t like hearing how stressed I was on this particular day). He constantly tells Andrew how much he enjoys it, and that makes me want to continue working on it.

I reminded myself of the day we spent at Angkor Wat, the day we arrived in Kathmandu and got incredibly lost only to find our way again. I remembered paragliding over the Annapurna and then finding a hole in the wall Korean restaurant after. I remember seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time and it taking my breath away, and then a month later celebrating New Years Eve in the desert outside of Dubai. I thought of Petra, the Western Wall in Jerusalem, floating in the Dead Sea, meandering through the medinas in Morocco. Sub-saharan Africa and going on not one, but two safaris. Spending a day with the Masai. I thought of meeting up with fellow travelers in Istanbul, motorbiking around Santorini, and now jumping around the Balkan States on a whim (because it’s cheaper than jumping around Western Europe).

I thought of Andrew and how lucky I have been to share all of these amazing, wonderful, beautiful moments on this trip and told myself that this day, shall too, pass.

They always do.

I find sleep (and sometimes a beer and/or a good cheeseburger) and meeting wonderful people helps.

And that’s exactly what happened. We arrived in a rainy Belgrade (from Timisoara, Romania) well after dark, but were welcomed with open arms into our latest couchsurfer hosts’ abode. Before I could even continue thinking about how hard Month 10 has been, we were recounting all of our adventures to our new friends, Vladimir and Marija. They excitedly listened like we were all old friends and both Andrew and I became equally excited hearing about their upcoming trip to The United States. It was even a bit encouraging listening to their professional accomplishments, and hearing how awesome they thought WE were for taking a chance and doing this trip. We stayed up late talking and when we finally went to sleep, Andrew and I exchanged a smile that was so full of gratitude we didn’t quite know what to do with ourselves. Other than, of course, sleep a bit better than we have in awhile…

Day 298: Sibiu to Timișoara

I still wasn’t feeling super hot, but didn’t want to lose another day that could otherwise be spent feeling awesome in the future along the coast. So, we spent the day on an old European train from Sibiu to Timisoara. We got in towards the evening and after we dropped off our bags, Andrew refused to let me crawl in a bunk and go to sleep, insisting that eating would make me feel better. It did, kinda, and then I crawled into bed. Not before our hostel offered us free shots of Rakia. My stomach turned. My head throbbed a little more at the thought, but I smiled, said thanks, and encouraged Andrew to accept one while I snuck back into the dorm room. The sweet (super, super sweet) girl at the hostel then offered me tea instead, but a pillow and my yak-wool scarf were all I wanted.

Whenever we’re sick, or tired or frustrated with a day or the trip for some reason or another, one of us will ask the other, “Do you want to go home?”

We always say “No.”

Except, this time I responded, sadly “We don’t even have a home…”

It’s usually a joke. But the trip has started hitting me a little harder lately, and not feeling well certainly wasn’t helping matters. 

Day 297: a rainy Sibiu

We’re nearly at the ten month mark, and we’ve hit a lull – to say the least. The rainy (and sometimes very cold) weather in the middle of what is supposed to be summer has not been helping matters at all. I woke up not feeling well. at. all. and we decided to stay a day longer to give me a chance feel better without lugging bags across the country and being on old European trains (that I quite enjoy when I’m feeling well). Luckily (in a way) it turned out to be a rainy day in Sibiu and I didn’t feel as guilty staying in bed for half the day before we ventured out to try to see the town. We were two of the few jumping over puddles and ducking under overhangs to stay out of the rain as we walked around. The city is pretty adorable and its description as being a smaller, untouched ‘Prague’ was pretty accurate. My favorite part of the city: the little windows on the roofs that looked like little eyes watching your every move. I kept waiting for one of the eyes to wink at me.

We came across this pillar that boasted handmade nails from craftsmen who resided in Sibiu and had completed their ‘traditional journey’ (which lasted three years and one day) were invited to decorate the pillar. I’m not sure if the tradition has lasted until today, but it was a fun to see outside of the church (especially as the church was closed and under construction).

After about an hour of walking around in the rain, we debated what to do and felt bad wanting to go ‘home’ and get warm and dry. Instead, we rallied through and went into the Brukenthal Museum to check out the Romanian art exhibit. It was nice, there were a few pieces that I really enjoyed and we wondered if one of the rooms of portraits was the same that our friend had mentioned to us. The girl who we rode from Brasov with said there was one room where all of the portraits would watch you wherever you stood in the room. I’m not positive, but I think the first room (of the Romanian exhibit) was what she was talking about. It was a little creepy and most of the pieces were by the same artist, so it made sense.

Day 296: FEERIC Fashion Day(s)

We almost didn’t make it out of Brasov. After waiting for the bus at the station for an hour, we were told we would have to go to the train station to catch it. We were too late. We looked for trains. Met a Romanian-Norwegian couple who were also trying to get to Sibiu and then we were all offered a ride by a fellow standing around the station. You’re probably cringing at the thought… Wondering who would get into a car with a STRANGER?! Well, the answer is: We would. And we safely arrived in the Sibiu around dinnertime and a late night fashion show. Turns out we arrived to Sibiu right smack in the middle of the FEERIC Fashion Days! According to All Hollow(.com): The fashion shows during the festival are famous for breaking the rules of  a conventional runway show by introducing scenography and choosing amazing backgrounds.

While the background was amazing, I was less than impressed with the line being shown. It was a line of evening wear. A lot of black evening wear. A Chinese girl staying at our hostel agreed and we wondered why the designer was a big deal… Nevertheless it was fun to duck out for a fashion show and pretend I wasn’t there in an outfit I’ve been wearing for the past ten months straight. (Good thing it was after dark.)

Day 295: “Dracula’s Castle” and more!

I say “Dracula’s Castle” like so, because, really it has absolutely nothing to do with “Dracula” (obviously a fictional character that’s *maybe* based off of Vlad the Impaler). Andrew was disappointed. I wasn’t exactly surprised. Basically, Bran Castle (as seen below from the inside) explained that the Irish author Bram Stoker *might* have visited the castle and it *may have* given him inspiration for the character, Dracula’s castle. Vlad the Impaler, whom Dracula is *said to have been based on* visited Bran Castle once. That’s it. There are a few rooms in the castle dedicated to the history of Dracula and Transylvania and basically the acknowledgement that Bran Castle really has little to do with the fictional story. It was a beautiful castle though, as was the view from Rasov Fortress and the grandeur of the Romanian summer palace, Peles Castle.

First stop: Rasnov Fortress! There really wasn’t much information given to us about the fortress, and it was crumbling down in many parts. But it provided a beautiful view of the city below. On our way in, a North American accent greeted us and asked us where we were from. He was sitting down, waiting for his family and heard us speaking English. (We were a mix of nationalities, hailing from America, Australia, Germany, New Zealand, Singapore…) He was from Kentucky. Ashland to be exact. I told him I was from the other end of the AA and he smiled really big. He spends half the year in Romania working as a missionary. I’m always intrigued by these folks we meet along the way, but try not to ask questions that may come across as confrontational. Instead, I wished him well and skipped ahead to catch up with Andrew (who usually can’t be bothered with us ‘Kentucky folk’).

When we were in the heart of the fortress looking out over the view, we overheard a couple of older women talking about the view. They were obviously the family (or friends) of the Kentuckian waiting at the entrance below. Their accents were a dead giveaway. The very same accent I’m accused of not having time and time again on this trip. Andrew nudged me and reminded me that I’m supposed to sound like them. I responded with a few words I probably shouldn’t type out online. I thought it was sweet that they made the comment that the mountains reminded them of those in West Virginia. I find it interesting how so much of the land reminds me of home. Or how some flowers, like cannas seem to grow EVERYWHERE. In Sofia, I smelled something wonderfully familiar. Some of the streets were lined with catalpa trees. The very same tree that grows at the bottom of my parents’ driveway. In Bucharest, it was lavender. Women sold bunches on the streets, reminding me of the summer I spent studying in Aix-en-Provence. Obviously, I’m on this trip around the world to see. the. world. But I find such beauty and grace in these details that remind me of another place that has wormed it’s way into my heart.

The Australian girl did seem to agree with this thought. I decided I didn’t need to befriend her then and there.

“Why would you travel half way around the world to think the mountains look the same as they do at your home?” She grumbled and might have made fun of their accent. I rolled my eyes and walked away, knowing I would have to spend the next six hours in her company. We ambled down the hill and bought some fresh raspberries along the way. Knowing the Australian wasn’t around, I told Andrew all about the raspberry patch at my parents’ house in Kentucky.

Second stop: Bran Castle aka, “Dracula’s Castle”. I was expecting something dark and dreary, it was anything but. It was beautiful and modern (at least compared to what I expected it to be) and airy and bright. The beautiful wood floors showed off the collection of Queen Mary’s furniture well. It was quite simply, a well maintained, picturesque museum inside this once inhabited castle. The balconies overlooking the courtyard were my favorite- even though they were quite low and I’m positive Andrew had a hard time walking through.

Third (and last) stop: Peles Castle. We weren’t allowed to take pictures inside without paying an exorbitant fee. As we were only going on a tour of the first floor, I figured I could go without taking photos during the thirty minute tour. The Castle was and still is the monarchy’s summer palace, although we were told it’s closed in November because that’s when the family comes to stay in the palace. It’s gorgeous and over the top decadent inside. There’s a huge receiving hall with a retractable colored glass ceiling. Two arms rooms. A library with a secret door leading up to the King’s bedroom. An arts room, a receiving hall, a dining hall with places laid out for more than thirty guests. It reminded me of the dining room in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. You know, minus the singing tea-cup. There was a parlor for smoking and even a small theater before we were told that our tour was over and only those who have paid to see the second level could remain.

On our way back to the hostel from our day trip to the castles, we approached a car in the middle of the road missing the bottom of the car on the passenger side. We were the first vehicle to arrive and immediately our driver got out to investigate. Had we been a few seconds earlier, who knows what would have happened to us and our own vehicle. This is what I thought of, especially after our bus accident in Tanzania. Thankfully, the driver was able to get out and walk around. Maybe only suffering a concussion. His passenger, an older woman, wasn’t so lucky. With the bottom of the car completely gone, her legs were stuck and she eventually had to be cut out of the car. Police and Emergency services responded roughly within ten minutes. (Which was positive to see after none had arrived on the scene of our accident in Tanzania, even after an hour’s time.) We were told later how accidents happen all the time in Romania, mostly due to young drivers and the robust interest in drag racing. It made me cringe talking about it the next day with a Romanian girl as we got into a car for a two hour drive to the next town.

Once back at our hostel, we went out for a Romanian dinner with the majority of our castle tour group. Australian included. In addition to her negative comments of the Americans earlier in the afternoon, our entire group managed to hear her life story more than once. She had a way of cornering you and talking… and talking… and talking some more. She also liked to ‘country-drop’ which I’m not a big fan of. At. All. During dinner, she complained about how someone she had met at a passport control was excited over the number of countries she/he had just hit visiting. The Australian complained, not understanding why someone would count the countries they’ve traveled to. And while I don’t understand this either, her sentiments didn’t seem to correspond to her unsolicited tales of her travels around the world that we had all heard multiple times throughout the day.

“You know what I don’t like? Country droppers. They. drive. me crazy.” I deadpanned, responding to her country-counter rant.

“What do you mean?” She asked, like she had no idea…

“You know, those people who just drop the places they’ve been or tell a story when it has absolutely nothing to do with the conversation at hand…” I trailed off, trying desperately to ignore my new German friend giggling, and my new American friend leaning back pointing his finger at the Australian as if I didn’t know what I was doing.

“Ohmigod! Who would do that?!” She asked. Completely annoyed at the thought. Genuinely so, without a clue I was hinting at her own actions.

“I don’t know… But it happens… And I just think a conversation should be a two way street. Especially when it comes to travel. You know what I mean? I don’t need to hear or overhear about EVERY country another person has been to…” I practically had to pinch myself from laughing because by now the German and American were losing it.

The Australian didn’t notice. She didn’t get it. And the conversation took a turn, she asked about our time in Korea, only to talk about how much she likes Korean food, completely disregarding our response. I started to feel sorry for her. For her complete unawareness. I’m a talker. But if nothing else, this trip has taught me the beauty of listening. A trait I’m now grateful for, because as soon as I think “Maybe I’m talking too much?” I shut my mouth. I ask a question. I stop talking and listen.

Day 294: Brasov

It was a rainy ride from Bucharest to Brasov in the afternoon. Fortunately it cleared up for our evening ‘Guided Brasov’ free walking tour!  I’m continually amazed with these free walking tours, and the wonderful guides that do them! Our guide, Andre was so fun to talk to, and I really loved the stories he told about some famous figures in Romanian history. Again, if there’s a free tour in a city you may be visiting, I’m fairly sure it will be better than any paid one with a bored (and boring) guide.

On top of the ‘Black Church’ Andre pointed out a statue of a little boy on the roof. The story goes that this little boy was so good at building, that the guy in charge got jealous and threw him off the roof. The boy’s friends made this statue of him before building was complete.

I also got a kick out of hearing a little bit about Elena Ceaușescu, the wife of the infamous Romanian dictator Nikolae. Apparently, she wanted the world to think highly of her, despite having very little education. So, she basically stole some physicists’ PhD work and passed it off as her own. When she was invited around the world to give talks on “her work” she would go, and speak in Romanian, about gibberish, bringing the real physicist along to “translate.” Since he knew what the project was actually about, he would be able to talk about it in great detail wowing scientists all over the world, yet they never knew it was really his work and not Elena Ceaușescu’s.

We made our way to a tower overlooking the town at the end of our tour. It had such a beautiful view of the old town.

I especially loved the orange tiled roofs and how you can see the many, many courtyards from above. I asked if many people live in the old town in Brasov, but Andre informed us that these houses are usually passed down through generations and it’s exceptionally expensive to not only purchase a house if you would want to, but to afford the bills (namely the heating) once you moved in. Most people live in the communist style block apartments on the edges of the city.

Day 293: Bucharest’s Old Town

Bucharest is hot. That kind of melty hot where all you want to do is sit and focus all of your energy on not being hot. Which is what we did, over lunch. And then over iced coffee. We walked around the Old Town, which was much quieter than it had been the previous two days (and especially nights). Bucharest was the surprise party town that I was not expecting and the picture below sums it up. Lots of Eastern Europeans here to have a good time. The Old Town was full of bars, sidewalk cafes and old crumbling buildings. Usually I really like juxtaposition. Seoul was full of it, but the juxtaposition in Bucharest featuring popped collars on the men and tight stone-washed jeans on the women weren’t my thing. We walked around until we were again, too hot to do anything other than sit down outside for a cold drink. or two.

One of my favorite sights we took in during our walk around town was this monastery. Stavropoleos Monastery is an Eastern Orthodox Monastery for nuns. I had no clue those even existed! Monasteries for nuns! It was tiny, but extraordinarily tall and featured “the quietest courtyard” in all of Bucharest. So they say… (It was quiet, and a little cool in the shade, which made us both happy as we tried not to give in and find somewhere in doors with air-conditioning.)

After we tore ourselves out from under the shade in the little courtyard, we meandered through the streets some more. Not many others were out- at least compared to how busy the streets were after dark in the previous evenings. Perhaps we were silly for being out in the heat. It appeared as though some people were living in some of these buildings. I’m not entirely sure how, or if it is even legal. The buildings are marked “historical” and on either side of these were cafes with outdoor seating and young and old tourists eating and drinking. It was an interesting mix of people. Gypsies roaming the streets and getting chased away from tables at the cafes. One more thing to add to the list of “things to look up”: Gypsies.

We walked by Revolution Square, past the museums, Caru’ cu Bere (the famous beer hall we went to for Andrew’s birthday), and a famous old hotel, some other ruins, and tried to pass the time until the free walking tour began at six. But, we couldn’t do it. We assured ourselves that the walking tour probably covered all of the same places we walked to on our own in the afternoon (minus the information, I’m sure) and grabbed dinner before heading back to our air-conditioned room. We passed this Russian inspired church on the way back, but it was closed, so we snapped a picture and went on our way.

Day 292: Cismigiu Gardens

I thought Romania was going to be a bit dark, somewhat run-down, and a little on the post Communist side. And then we walked through the Cismigiu Gardens. Now, parts of Bucharest ARE run-down and you can there’s evidence of the Communist block going on around the city- but this garden is like a breath of fresh air. We had to walk through it to get from our hostel to the old town. Not that either of us minded, at all. Even late at night, we debated walking around the park, but then saw how many people were still enjoying the gardens in the evening that it made more sense to walk through! There was also a folk festival going on throughout the weekend. Sometimes when we would walk through it would simply be little shops set up with traditional crafts, one time, it was a lively beer garden, and during our last stroll through, there were some traditional dances on stage, and off (if you count the gypsies on the sidewalk). 

Day 291: Andrew’s Birthday!

If you follow me on Instagram, or saw my feed (on the right) you might have seen the video above and the picture below already. I had my camera with me the entire day, but didn’t use it once. Instead, I ordered birthday beers and a Romanian feast for lunch. When we *accidentally* got four beers at one time, Andrew decided it was time to play ‘Edward Mug-hands’ and being as it was his birthday, I used my ‘mind-tape’ and obliged. The waitstaff (at least one) was thoroughly entertained by us both when we refused to let them take away the empty mugs.

“I’m sorry, I have to keep it.” I said apologetically to the waiter. “We are playing a game…” I shrugged.

“You are losing?” He laughed.

“I guess you could say so…” I responded, looking over at Andrew’s nearly finished two and my full one.

I debated what to write for this day. A post dedicated to the one I love, or something like that. I hemmed. I hawed. I typed. I erased. I thought about rhyming, and then I changed my mind. (As Andrew likes to drop a beat and make me emcee, this would only encourage him.) Finally, I asked myself, What would Mindy do? (If you don’t know Mindy… she would have answered quite simply: write a haiku!)

 This trip without you,

Just the thought makes me so sad.

Even when you smell. 

Day 290: Bulgaria to Romania

The train from Bulgaria to Romania, Veliko Tarnovo to Bucharest to be exact was old, on the empty side, and super warm. For the majority of the ride, we had an entire car to ourselves. It sounds nice, but it actually made me miss (a little bit) the trains overflowing with people and animals and something that was bound to surprise you.

Day 289: Veliko Tarnovo

Our bus ride from Sofia to Veliko Tarnovo was rather uneventful, until Todd picked us up. Todd works at the Hostel Mostel in Veliko Tarnovo and he picked us up like we were old friends, yet visiting his city for the first time. I love good people. (Todd, if you’re reading this, hope that last test went well before graduation!) We dropped our bags off, Andrew had a bit of a nap, and then we were off in search of food and Tsarevets Fortress.

The town is exactly what I thought Bulgaria would be like, what any small European town should be like. Quiet, with people sitting in front of their shops or peeking out of their windows to watch life on the street below. There were only a handful of restaurants on the main street running through town. When we wandered off the main street, we found ourselves on a more touristy street- without the annoyance of a typical ‘touristy street.’ Shopkeepers could have cared less if we ducked in for a keychain or handbag, as most were busy smoking or gossiping with a friend on the phone. Not many other tourists were around. The only surprise of the city was how unbelievably hot it was. We later found out the town is the hottest of all of Bulgaria. We have yet to figure out why.

We made our way to Tsarevets Fortress, what Veliko Tarnovo is known the most for. That, and being the historical capital of the Second Bulgarian Empire. I guess that’s worth mentioning as well. Andrew made me pose for the picture above after he realized I had caught him on video being silly. I obliged. The hike up was rough, in the heat, after a huge meal. We thought we were being smart by going around five, after it was supposed to be “cooler” but we were dying and I had to linger in the shade often. We were also told we needed at least two hours to explore the entire fortress, but we found that less time was enough for us. Maybe had it been cooler, we could have stayed longer… But it wasn’t. And we were hot. The views were wonderful though!

Tsarevets Fortress was the Second Bulgarian Empire’s primary fortress from 1185 to 1393. During this time there were houses, chuches, everything that used to be in most fortresses. Unfortunately, not much stands today, except for the reconstructed church; The Patriarchal Cathedral of the Holy Ascension of God at the very top of the fortress. It’s no longer functioning as a church, but visitors can go in and check out the frescoes that I’m fairly certain my mother would simply call ‘ugly.’ They weren’t my favorite, but it was fun to see something so different. Some looked so out of place, like they were collaged together, not painted. Like I said, interesting…

I liked the "DANGER!" signs as well. I would have liked them even more if someone had scrawled out “NO YOGA POSES ON THE WALL!”

Day 288: Rila Monastery

Rila Monastery is named after the hermit, Ivan of Rila who lived in a cave in the mountains above where the monastery stands today. We debated if we were going to check out the monastery on our own or go with a tour leaving from our hostel. It seemed easier to just go with the hostel (even if it was a bit more expensive) and they took you to the cave where Ivan of Rila resided. After a two hour drive, we began our tour by climbing up into the mountains to see the cave, and then had the afternoon to explore the walled in monastery below.

The walk through the woods was nice, a little bit tricky in flip-flops, but nice. It wasn’t a long climb up, about twenty minutes or so and then we stood before a closed church. Our guide kept apologizing for his poor English. We didn’t get much information on the little church that was standing, but instead were lead behind the church to the infamous cave. Our guide lit a few candles, and then told us there was only one way out of the cave. We had to climb through a tiny opening, a far contrast from the big opening we all walked through to get inside. We were told that all of our sins would be washed away by climbing out the smaller exit way. It was a tight squeeze, but we all made it out, cleansed of all of our sins.

We drove back down to the Monastery below and upon entering the walled in compound, I was impressed by the size and grandeur of the place. Sometimes, the religious really know how to live, you know what I’m sayin’? It was beautiful. and peaceful, even with the tourists milling about.

Andrew and I sat on the outskirts in the sun people watching for awhile. Then we walked around the courtyard. Wandered under the murals painted on the ceiling of the church in the center of the courtyard. We wandered in the church, and I wondered why the woman (and one of the monks) blew out prayer candles, throwing them out before they were burned all the way down. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed this. It happened in Greece as well- all in the Orthodox Churches. From my observations in the Catholic Church, they are always kept lit until they go out on their own. Am I missing something? I wonder if it has to do with the smoke and trying to preserve the ancient murals in these churches. Why not sell shorter candles?

Back outside of the church (I didn’t stay long inside as I was wearing shorts… and they were technically forbidden) I couldn’t take my eyes off of the murals and so, I give you one too many pictures of the murals with the contrasting monks’ cells in the background.

If you find yourself at Rila, I suggest getting some of the donuts for sale just across the entrance to the monastery. Made to order. Also, the little souvenir shop had such lovely bells for sale that I desperately wanted, but feared they wouldn’t survive five months in my backpack or being sent home. I’ll pick a few up next time…

Day 287: Sofia Free Walking Tour

What’s better than a hop-on hop-off bus tour around a new city? A free walking tour. This was our first one, you know, with a guide and not Andrew reading from Lonely Planet or Trip Advisor where we should go and what we should do. I’ve become more and more appreciative of opportunities on this trip where we can hand over the reigns to someone else for a couple of hours, and this was no exception. I don’t know if this is a trend or not (being as it is my first one) but it seems as though guides for free tours are exceptionally better than guides for paying tours. Our guide, Radina was nice, knowledgeable, and made all of the historical facts and timelines entertaining! For a complete list of free walking tours around the world, check out their post on the Sofia Free Tour Blog. (They’re the free tour that just keeps giving!) You can also find them on Facebook here, if you’re interested.

As always, on this trip, I find myself facing the fact that I did not pay nearly enough attention in my history classes in school. Andrew and I have talked about this many, many times. I feel like I did everything backwards. I should have gone on a trip around the world and THEN school. I would have been a much better student if I had. Now I find myself playing catch up and going down the rabbit hole of Wikipedia every other day. If I’m not looking up history, I’m looking up religion, or at least adding to the growing list of books I want to read about both and cursing the Kindle makers for pricing e-books so high. The more countries we add to our list, the more my news feed grows as well.

When we first started traveling, we would send each other articles about North and South Korea. Then articles on India were added to the list. Then Palestine and Israel. Then South Africa. Lately we’ve been keeping up with Turkey, Greece, and now Bulgaria. Sometimes my head is so full, I have to clarify who is what and from where and what politics they practice to keep up (ahem, to attempt to keep up) with it all. Instead of trying to remember, and/or spend all morning looking up the history that Radina shared with us on the tour, I’m simply going to post pictures and let you enjoy. You know how to look things up on Wikipedia if you need to, right? Right.

Within one square in the middle of Sofia, there were four different buildings of worship, each of a different religion, and each from a different time period. Our guide also told a fun story of how the department store (the first in the country) was also built on this square. When her family would come into Sofia, she would be so excited to ride the (first, and only- if I remember correctly) escalator during communist times.

When we were in Africa, we met and became friends with a lovely Romanian girl, Christina. She was ecstatic when we shared a box full of melty chocolate with her (that Andrew’s mom had sent to us in Tanzania). She told us about growing up without chocolate until one day it was available and she went crazy. Isn’t that fascinating? Can you imagine chocolate and escalators being a special thing?

Government buildings. These poor guards were wearing such heavy, heavy uniforms. I felt bad for them having to stand outside in the HOT sun, but then we were told they change out every hour because it is so hot standing outside in the sun even for just one hour.

Churches were Everywhere. The biggest, and most impressive was the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. It’s one of the largest Eastern Orthodox Churches in the world. We weren’t allowed to photograph the interior, but I assure you it was equally impressive. And dark. Not many candles nor lights were lit, I’m guessing to help preserve the murals on the walls. We sat for awhile inside. To escape the heat outside, and because we’re both fasciated with religious traditions around the world.

Fun fact: Sofia is not named after Saint Sofia. We were told this is a common mistake, even in Bulgaria. It’s named after Ayasofia, which in Greek, means wisdom. If this question comes up in your next trivia game, you’re welcome!

Another fun fact (one that might not be as useful in your next trivia game): It is unbelievably awesome to have friends scattered around the world. Who knew I’d have a friend in Sofia who we could meet up for dinner with?! He ordered a mountain of food for us, insisted we try the Bulgarian rakia. When in Bulgaria… Despite having a baby on the way (update the little one was born a week after our visit) he insisted on contributing to “our cause” of trying to make it a full year (or more) around the world. So, not only are my friends leading amazing lives in foreign countries all around the world, they are generous to boot. (Thanks a million, Mark. Dinner is on us next time!) Below, he threw up the Bulgarian thumbs up and I threw down the Korean peace sign. Because we’re gangster travelers like that.

Day 286: Protests in Sofia

We’ve had some pretty interesting timing on this trip, to say the least. Most recently, we were in Istanbul right before protests got serious (and violent). We left Athens before protests and strikes began. But today, we seemed to arrive right smack in the middle of another country protesting their government. We actually missed them the day we arrived, as we were exhausted and didn’t stray too far from where we were sleeping, but we heard all about them the next morning over breakfast. I filmed the video above on the 18th. If you’re interested in this country’s battle with their government, you can read all about it here!

The reason we didn’t make it out to see the protests is because we were ‘up’ but not exactly ‘at ’em’ in Sofia before six in the morning. We had just gotten off our overnight bus, but were warned not to take a taxi in Sofia, unless we wanted to get ripped off. So, we walked. It was a couple of kilometers. Enough to wake a girl up after an overnight bus from Greece. We were hoping, but not expecting to be able to check into our room sometime in the morning. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to until around noon. Fortunately, the hostel was equipped with a nice lounge area, wifi, and a buffet breakfast (with drip coffee!) so we were able to eat and relax (as much as we could) until our room was ready.

When our room was ready, showers became the priority, followed by sleep. Some sleep, but mostly just kinda laying.