5 things I miss about Montenegro (And it may not be what you think)

1. Hearing the gentle stirrings of Kotor Old Town as it wakes up

I miss the gentle stirrings of Kotor Old Town as it gradually wakes up in the morning.  The soothing sound of water as cafe owners hose down terraces while a handful of early riser tourists amble across the square.  The rise and fall of Montenegrin voices drifting up and fading away as locals head past to work.  The reassuring cathedral bells ringing out on the hour.  The occasional clank of plates from the restaurants below, as chefs prepare for the day ahead.  I miss those mornings as I slowly come to in my bed listening to the relaxed awakening of the Old Town pleasantly reminding me of where I am.

2. Swimming like a local

Last summer my daughter and I left my husband at the apartment one late afternoon, catching up with some urgent work.  We donned our swimsuits and grabbed our towels and some water each and made the short 20-minute drive to Bjelila.  There is a slip of a pebble beach there – and a large expanse of a car park (which is barriered off in the summer).  No sunbeds, no sunshade, no beach club luxury but we felt like locals, sticking our towels on the concrete and throwing ourselves into the cool, crystal clear water.  Surrounded by the most staggeringly beautiful scenery with the rising mountains and little green islands with yachts dotted on the water in the distant. I miss the simple joy that I felt from a cooling swim in the sea with the sun, a perfect backdrop and some concrete to jump off. One of the tug-at-the-heart reasons that make me miss Montenegro.

We felt like locals, sticking our towels on the concrete and throwing ourselves into the cool, crystal clear water.

3. Stopping for calamari on the way back from a day at the beach

I have a couple of favourites haunts in Lustica, where I love to while away the evening with a sundowner beer on the terrace watching the sun go down.  Eating my favourite meal of fried calamari with a fresh shopska salad, topped high with crumbly cheese. Montenegro is full of these little gems tucked away waiting to be discovered.  Where you won’t need to dress up smart and make your child sit still.  You can just turn up as you are, in shorts straight from a day at the beach, with your sea-salt-caked hair stuffed up in a hat and sand still between your toes.  Those evenings are some of the best and I miss them.

4. Taking an impromptu drive & discovering new places

I often feel bad about not being more of an intrepid, focussed traveller as I hear holiday stories from my more active friends.  You know, where the research has been done and lists drawn up, early starts and making the most of it.  Sometimes I do need that, don’t get me wrong.  But when I miss Montenegro, it’s not the high energy things that I miss.  It’s the contented and relaxed meanderings, the drives to see what’s down that road.  It’s the discovery of new little places or roadside cafés.  Glimpses of local life off the beaten track or an old derelict building from a bygone socialist era.  Montenegro is only a small country, but I feel I have so much more of it to explore and discover in my own quiet, slow way.

5. Getting fresh bread for breakfast from the local bakery 

There’s something about going out to the bakery in the morning sun.  Leaving my husband and daughter still surfacing at the apartment, and following the narrow winding alleys to the vast cathedral square already filling with clusters of tour groups and camera-wielding tourists.  Often the bakery is full of jostling holiday-makers who don’t know how to queue (well, I am British), asking loudly for ham rolls in English with their mix of foreign accents.  I love turning up and asking for a large loaf of fresh bread in Montenegrin (often to a bemused local).  I love it because it makes me feel like I live there, like I’m part of the life there.  Just like a local.  For that moment I can feel I really do live a simple life there.  Far away from the madding crowd.  In my very own little place in Montenegro.

All this may not be the stuff of adventure films.  It’s not fast-paced and impressive.

But it’s the stuff of my heart. It’s the familiar and endearing snippets of my “other life” in Montenegro.  Where I can let out this deep internal sigh of relief within and let the pressure fall away.  But it’s a Montenegro that I can’t get to right now.  And I miss it so much.