Bumping through the Balkans

After two weeks of driving from Sofia, Bulgaria to Prague, Czech Republic, I’ve pulled together some stats to summarize my trip. These are all 100% accurate and not made up at all. Enjoy!

Driving Distance: 3,145km

Countries Visited: 11

Cities Inhabitated: 13

Mountains Climbed: 8

Distance Hiked: 162.4 miles

Floors Climbed: 2,346

Highest Elevation: 1,810m

Falls While Hiking: 6

Slips While Hiking: 15

Pairs of Hiking Boots: 0

Pairs of Running Shoes Used as Hiking Boots: 2

Pastries Consumed: 12

Rainstorms Endured: 9

Speeding Tickets: 0

Parking Tickets: 0

Highways Taken: 1

Liters of Water Consumed: 33

National Parks Visited: 6

Waterfalls Seen: 17

Wolf/Werewolf Attacks: 0

Tylenol/Advil Pills Taken: 14

Loads of Laundry: 5

Favorite Pastry: Spinach Borek

Favorite Meat Dish: Cevapi

Favorite Hike: Suva Planina (Serbia)

Favorite Meal: Hisa Franko

Favorite Moment: Listening to the “Sound of Music” soundtrack while driving through Austria

Cost of a Two Week Driving Adventure: Priceless

Now back to your regularly scheduled blogramming.

Ben

Climb Ev’ry Mountain

Before I start this post I have a confession: I’m a solid month behind on my blog travels than where I am on my actual travels. The last few weeks I’ve been traveling with my old college buddy Nic and haven’t had time to update my posts. The optimistic side of me says the reason for this is being present and enjoying the moment. The realistic side of me says the reason for this is too much partying. Both are true. I resolve to catch up as quickly as possible, while still maintaining my high level of experience conveyance and elegant prose that I’ve been bestowing on you in the past. I also resolve to stop lying soon.

I woke up on my last day in Slovenia with an overstuffed stomach and thought, “what better way to start the day than getting up at 6am and going on a hike up into Italy?”. For some reason my body responded to that thought with an affirmative, so together we went onto the trail. It was a partly cloudy day but still cold in the early morning. I hoofed it up the first few initial inclines until I got to a point where I had to rest and eat my three-day old chocolate crossiant from Croatia. It hit the spot and I continued on until I reached a hill with a view of the valley below me. It was still early enough so there was a river of clouds snaking its way through the valley, a wonderful phenomenon to behold. From there I kept climbing and climbing and climbing and climbing until finally I was about 20 minutes from the summit. And at this point I did the unexpected. I factored in my tired body, muddy trail, and increasing winds and decided to turn back. But first I took some pictures and had an apple in Italy then some almonds in Slovenia. I have very international tastes.

It ended up being a great decision because the clouds began moving in as I returned. After slipping and falling again on this hike (what would it be if I didn’t?!) I made it back, showered, said my last goodbyes to the tiny horses, and hit the road. When I first drove into Slovenia I thought it was the most stunning drive I’d ever done. The drive into Austria blew it out of the water. I climbed through the Slovenian Alps and spilled down into Italy, which had just as stunning views. From there I snaked my way through the mountain passes into the Austrian Alps, trying hard to focus on the road while towering mountain peaks loomed overhead in magnanimity.

Once into the valleys of Austria the beautiful views continued, and the little villages I passed through were even more adorable than the Slovenian ones. It was on this portion of the trip while listening to the “Sound of Music” soundtrack that it struck me how much of an irrepressibly flaming homo I am. Nothing screams gay like weeping as Julie Andrews, fresh off of giving a bunch of children a makeover by tailoring adorable outfits from curtains, proceeds to teach them the fundamentals of musical theater. It’s every gay boy’s fantasy. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a rainbow coming out of the tailpipe behind me. The fact that as a young boy I enjoyed a movie about a Broadway star with a boy haircut singing about flowers and dresses and trapping a sugar daddy didn’t raise any suspicions with my parents is beyond me. And I was the one who has to come out to them? Sure, Jan.

Eventually I got my shit together and, nearly to my destination, stopped into a little restaurant and treated myself to a couple wieners, mustard, a beer, and apple strudel. It was a gloriously Austrian meal and the perfect way to cap off a beautiful day. I made it up to my guesthouse which was on the side of a mountain and walked back down into town to explore. I chatted with Anna on the phone, got some groceries, and hoofed it back up the mountain to enjoy some beers on the balcony as the sun set on the day.

The next day my body again decided it would great to get to the top of the mountain I was staying on, so we reluctantly agreed to humor it again. I got about a half hour into the trail and had to stop, exhausted by the trail so far. I thought I had properly hydrated, and I had enough food, so I was puzzled as to why I was so tired. Eventually the oxygen got back to my brain and realized the elevation was much higher than I was used to, given that I was already on a mountain in the middle of a mountain range. Once I slowly pieced it together I went slower and didn’t feel the need to rush the hike. After passing through some more snowbanks (WTF Europe, just melt that shit already) I made it to the very top, which had some incredible views. Breathing heavy and getting cold, I made my way back down the way I came. I was extremely careful on the snow and was so proud of myself of not having slid once on this hike. FINALLY, I had made it though a hike without any sort of mishap. Then while not even 200 meters from the house I slipped on a decrepit bridge and my lower half fell into a stream. So I limped my way back to my lodgings with sloshing feet and a bruised ego, finally ready to hang up my hiking shoes (read: running) and be done with mountains for a while. I had gotten my fill and this was the final sign that it was time to move on to flatter grounds and pavement.

I continued on through Austria, now on my 12th playing of the “Sound of Music” soundtrack, and stopped in the lake village of Hallstatt. It was picturesque and quaint and entirely overrun with tour groups. I did a meandering walk through the main areas and found a nice park with beautiful views of the mountains surrounding the still lake. After this nice respite I continued on through Austria, making my way to Passau, Germany. On another rec from Anna, she put me in touch with her college friend’s brother who was living there. We had a nice walk through town getting to know each other and share stories about our awful, horrible, terrible, no-good sisters. Marc took me to all the hot spots in Passau, all two of them. We made it to a lookout where three rivers met, hiked up to the top of the town fortress, and got absolutely drenched on the way down before ducking into a Bavarian restaurant. It was there I decided to order a pork knuckle, which I can’t describe better than the picture below. And in no surprising fashion, I finished the entire thing. Card-carrying member of the Clean Plate Club right here.

After a deliciously healthy breakfast that I neither could’ve nor would’ve never made myself, I parted ways with Marc and continued my adventures on to Vienna. It was a rainy day made better by an audiobook (“Middlesex”) and I made it to my hotel on the Danube. I threw on my rain gear and headed into the city to explore for a bit. It was a bitterly cold spring day with intermittent rain that drove me into the Mozart museum. Ok I lied, it was a bitterly cold spring day with intermittent rain and I CHOSE to go into the Mozart museum because I’m a massive orchestra nerd. It was the actual building Mozart lived in while in Vienna and it had a nice collection documenting his life and his works. I also might’ve stayed to hear the Queen of the Night aria playing in a diorama more times than I should’ve. I walked some more through the streets enjoying the uniformity and precision of the buildings downtown, softened by the playful color palettes alternating down the lanes. I enjoyed the stateliness of the city and could see how classical music flourished in such a rich and uniform environment. I stopped for a wienerschnitzel and apfelstrudel and made my way back for the night. My last day in Austria was spent exploring the city some more and choking down a Viennese coffee. I say that literally because Austrian whipped cream is so thick it’s almost like butter. Got some last good views of the city and the nice neat parks tucked away in the squares before heading on to Slovakia.

Taking side roads again I made my way through the eastern part of the county. Surprisingly it looked like one of the poorer countries that I had traveled through, as sad buildings and unkempt towns passed me by. I turned in towards the Little Carpathians and traveled down a one-lane road looking for a trail head. I pulled over at a junction that I thought was a trail head, but I was the only car there. That should’ve been a red flag. Instead, I headed out into the windy overcast day and followed a marked trail that had an hour and a half suggested time. I got about 20 minutes into the luscious green hike when a big ram bounded out of the forest onto the trail and skittered away from me. It completely rattled me but I forged on, singing Alanis Morisette to warn off any other wildlife around me. However, the howling winds and isolation started to wear on my psyche and paranoia started to set in. I talked myself into the fact that since there was a ram in the area, it was no doubt being hunted a black bear or a pack of wolves or a Carpathian Werewolf (there, wolf!). After 20 more minutes I had had enough and turned back, at a decidedly faster pace than I had come in. All the solo hiking had finally caught up to me and it dawned on me how dangerous it was to be going on these hikes in out-of-the-way places by myself. Sometimes it’s detrimental to have such an active imagination. But I’m sure my family would say it’s more in line with my uncanny ability to stretch the truth and ignore facts.

Done and dusted with hiking, I was ready to continue on to my last lodging across the border in the Czech Republic. I drove back the same way I came on the one lane forest road, only to found a giant felled tree across the road. More accurately, there were about 5 felled trunks on one side and one recently felled full tree across the whole road. I attempted to get the attention of the two Slovakian tree cutters, who were clearly in no hurry to move the tree. So I pulled over and spent the next 45 minutes waiting on a dirt road in the Little Carpathian Mountains as one man slowly cut apart a tree and cleared it from the road. Limb. By. Limb. At one point I busted out laughing at how utterly ridiculous the situation was, and just further enforced how out of control things in my life are. Granted, I could’ve gotten out of the car and helped the old woodcutter remove the stray limbs, but I’m a petty bitch who lives for passive aggression.

Eventually it was cleared so I gunned it out of there and got the hell out of Slovakia. It was a totally bizarre experience, and I couldn’t have ended my road trip on a weirder note. I made it to a small town across the border (I can’t remember the name and I’m way too lazy to look it up right now) and walked to the store to buy some booze to begin my training for the next leg of my journey. Seeing as I hadn’t been drinking the last month or so, I needed to reintroduce alcohol to my body before it suffered from shock due to the onslaught I knew would be forthcoming. A session of Netflix and wine later, I felt throughly exhausted from the days training and turned in for the night.

I hit the road early the next morning for my final destination of Prague. Nic was flying in that afternoon and we were planning on meeting at our Airbnb at 1pm. I decided to take the highway because I wanted to get there on time. Only this time, there was major construction on about 75% of the journey. Again, thank god I had an audiobook (“Middlesex” is incredible, if you’re looking for a book rec) and turned back to my trusty side roads cause it was same same. I finally made it into Prague and to my horror discovered that the car rental return was in the middle of the old town with negative zero designated parking places. So I drove around and around and around for about 30 minutes before finding a random spot about 1km away. When I finally returned my keys they told me I was supposed to return it to the airport, at which point I channeled my inner Catherine and told them absolutely not, gave them the keys, told them to go get the car themselves and check everything was fine while I waited next door and had a coffee. Eventually I was given the ok, and with that, marked the end of my two week road trip that started in Bulgaria.

I’ll have another post on some fun details around the road trip, and will continue my story with my adventures with Nic. All in all I was really happy I rented a car and got to drive and see a lot of things out of the way, and out of the cities. It was absolutely beautiful and also helped kill my hiking bug for at least the time being.

All hiked out,

Ben

sLOVEnia

Having spent the last of my Croatian Krona on pastries, I drove up from Rijeka and into Slovenia. I debated between taking the fastest route with tolls or lose an hour avoiding the tolls on country roads. The miser in me won out, and I was so glad he did. The next two hours were some of the most mesmerizing and beautiful roads I’ve ever been on. The Julian Alps were an omnipresent backdrop, holding court while rolling fields and tiny towns came and went. Sometimes the towns could be mistaken for little Austrian villages, so I guessed it was the different side of the same coin in Slovenia.

I started to get some elevation, and the views started to get better. At times I was the only car on the road passing through tiny villages where I might have been the only car passing through that day. The mountainsides were lined in autumnal arrays of colors, even though it happened to be the beginning of May. I stopped a couple of times to take pictures, and once I just sat in my car and gawked at the sheer splendor of what lay before me. It probably took me even longer to get where I was going because I was driving a solid 10km/hr under the speed limit. Not that there is one on the windy, tiny mountain roads, but that’s what it felt like to me.

I made it to Triglav National Park, the only national park in all of Slovenia. It was a cloudy day with rain forecasted later in the evening (I did do some planning) so I pulled together my hiking stuff (pants this time) and set off. After multitudes of switchbacks I finally got to a clearing where the view below took my breath away. I’m not sure it was the biting wind or the view itself but I started to tear up it was so starkly beautiful. Even with the clouds and the faroff rains it was still a sight to behold.

I continued the climb up and up and up and eventually hit snow. Again. I’ll stop right here and make it very clear that I didn’t learn my lesson and continued onward. Because I had pants this time! Eventually I made it to the top of the trail and saw there was a connecting path to an alpine lake and a different way down. Not one to pass on a new adventure (or learn from what happened just the day before in Croatia), I took it. Maybe 40 seconds in I heard a nearby series of bonks that frightened me away. That’s right, bonks. I don’t know what the hell kind of animal it was but it was something between a bark and a honk.

Not wanting to meet whatever animal it was that made that noise I resigned myself to my original path down. However, a little removed from my fear I found a way back up to my proposed path and took it. How stupid of a decision that turned out to be. This path I’d decided to take was exclusively covered in snow. And I was wearing my running shoes. Again. To make matters worse I managed to convince myself that there was a wolf and/or werewolf that was going to spring out and attack me at any given moment. What followed was the most fearful hike I’d ever done in my life. On the plus side, I’d never been more alert.

Stepping through snow banks, feet starting to get wet, constantly looking at trees I could climb or rocks I could throw at my imaginary beastly attackers, I made my way along the trail. Yes, it was marked, and yes, there were other footprints, but on that day I was the only one up there. Suffice to say it all worked out; I made it to the lake, no werewolf attacked, and I managed to get some incredible vantages along the way. You could even say that the trail was able to add vantages, which had quite the…advantages.

Once I made it to the lake I felt innumerably better and even ran into two other humans who definitely were not daytime werewolves. I then had to make my way down one of the steepest descents I’ve had to do on a hike, again cursing my stubbornness. There’s no way I made it through this hike without someone watching over me, and the number of times things could have gone wrong, I doubt it was a job for just one person. So thanks to Mom, Gong in Yakima, and Bop in Spokane, I made it back to the parking lot and enjoyed a homemade ham and cheese sandwich.

That night I stayed in a cute little guesthouse in a mountain village nearby and warmed up with a venison goulash. My next day began early as I got up with the morning sun and did a much less strenuous hike through a beautiful gorge to a waterfall. Even in spite of the rain it was mesmerizing and I found myself smiling all along the way. The sight of the mist from low hanging clouds being draped through the evergreen trees on the faces of the mountainsides rising from the valley floor was haunting and beautiful. Best part was I had the trail to myself the whole way.

A nice snowless morning hike over and done with I stopped in the nearest town for some groceries and coffee and caught up on some communications. I then drove again through gorgeous mountain villages to my next destination of Tolmin. There was another gorge there, and another easy hike. See! Sometimes I do learn things. But mostly when they’re after near-death experiences. Or at least ones that feel as such. The water in the gorge was clear and beautiful, an incredible contrast with the gray day.

The last part of my day was just unbelievable. As I was walking out of the bottom of the gorge I found a new path that would spit me out in a nearby village and back up to my car. As I started to walk through the forest I could see blue skies on the horizon, and by the time I broke through the tree line the sun had broken through the clouds. It was one of the most idyllic scenes I’ve seen on my travels. It was a tony mountain village dwarfed by enormous monotliths on all sides light aglow by the brilliant sun as massive ships of clouds sailed in the blue sky above. It was heavenly.

With the day having been broken open I pushed my car to climb up the windy mountain pass to my lodging on a working farm that had a couple little Shetland ponies, of all things. Enjoying the view and relaxing, I watched the colors start to turn as I made my way back down into town for the last treat of the day, and my main reason for staying in this part of Slovenia. But first, some pictures of a tiny horse. Then some background.

A few years ago, a show on Netflix called “Chef’s Table” premiered and highlighted masters of their craft from different parts of the world making different cuisines, along with the stories and lives they led that got them to that point. It was a beautifully shot and alluring show, but one of my favorites was the chef Nikki Nakamura who ran the restaurant n/naka based out of Los Angeles — Culver City to be exact. So a couple years ago for my birthday, Anna took me there and we completely geeked out over the 14-course meal that was served, even getting to meet Nikki in person. It was such a special and treasured experience, made even better by getting to enjoy it with Anna. Having gotten her hooked on the show, she finished the remaining seasons. Once she found out I was going to Slovenia, she told me I “ABSOLUTELY HAD TO GO” to Hisa Franko, another restaurant featured on the show. It’s run by a woman (girl power!) named Ana Ros, who had no culinary training but managed to create a world-renowned dining experience in rural Slovenia. Seeing as I was in the area, I couldn’t pass this up, so that’s where I was headed on my last night.

It’s a beautiful building around the bend of a tree-lined highway tucked into the backside of the valley against the Julian Alps. It’s a cozy restaurant with bold coral colors and funky decorations. What followed was a 21-course tasting menu that was all at once surprising, memorable, delicious, intriguing, and extremely fun. The combinations she used were surprising but delightful, and all of the menu items were local and seasonal, a hallmark of the restaurant. Smoked chocolate with fermented cottage cheese? Yes, please! Hazelnut miso? Don’t mind if I do. Pork brûlée? Can’t tell you what it is, you just have to try it. And given the distance they are from a major city, they are given to using all parts of animals and produce they order. Hence I ate a lamb brain purée, braised lamb, and tripe all in one meal. Just when I didn’t think I couldn’t get any better, Ana came out to all the tables to introduce herself. I was able to thank her for an incredible experience, and also get a picture with her to make sure I had a tangible way to torture my jealous sister. You never grow out of old habits. After that we got to tour the kitchen and meet the staff, where I met a fellow San Franciscan who worked at a restaurant there and came to Slovenia just to work with Chef Ana. Well past midnight I finally stepped out into the cold night and drove home in a daze, grinning stupidly at the incredible experience I just had.

I didn’t have much expectation for what Slovenia would be like, but suffice to say it blew me away. And the one-two punch of the national park of Triglav and national treasure of Hisa Franko turned out to be the perfect combination. Both were incredibly memorable and beautiful, and a great way to experience Slovenia in a short time. Even in spite of the not-so-great weather it was a beautiful experience, and I’m glad I made it a stop on my trip. More to come on my Alpine adventures in the coming days.

Full for the next day,

Ben

(Don’t Go) Croatian Waterfalls

For the first time on my driving journey, I mistakenly took a toll motorway and it was terrifying. After having taken winding mountain villages at a leisurely pace, the 130km/hr speed limit and zooming cars were overwhelming as I tried to keep pace and fruitlessly enjoy the blurred countryside of Croatia. A couple hours later I got off the car treadmill and made my way up into Krka National Park to stretch my legs and go for a little hike. It was a windy but sunny day as I set out and made it to the start of the trail, which was a loop that ran through a lush park. I’m not sure what type of environment it was, but it had all different types of beautiful water features. First power-walking my way past a group of slow walking tour groups that were monopolizing the boardwalk, I was able to slow down and enjoy the beautiful sights and pleasant sounds of the water park. There were little blubbering brooks, peaceful lakes, gurgling streams, and a couple rushing waterfalls. The water was multicolored and varied depending on the way the lights and shadows interplayed with it.

I got near then end of the trail and sat down on a rock above a lake that was fed by a tiered waterfall and had a couple sandwiches. It was an absolutely stunning lunch spot and the roaring sound of the nearby waterfall drowned out any ambient tourist sounds and allowed me a peaceful respite. I wandered my way back up through the rising layers of the waterfall and made it back to my car and drove on to Zadar. After an evening cappuccino courtesy of my airbnb hostess I took a bike into old town Zadar as the sun was beginning to set. Navigating through the fortress walls and limestone streets I arrived at the pier and sat down to a fiery sunset. The intense colors and brightness of the light had a strange effect on the sea, causing it to turn a deep purple hue. It was a glorious contrast and despite the wind, I sat and watched it go all the way out. I wandered back into town and found a quick bite, some gelato, and a beer. Finally, too cold from the dropping temperatures and stiff winds, I rode back home, managing to get lost in the dark and getting more of a workout than I planned that evening.

The next day I drove outside of Zadar into Paklenica National Park, as it was a beautiful day to go hiking. It was a clear, sunny day as I walked up the path through the deep gorge and admired the multitudes of climbers as they began their slow scalings of the cliff faces. I found a loop trail that didn’t look to difficult, and as I started it, that proved to be the case. That quickly changed as I got above the tree line and it became more about scrambling up bouldered cliff faces than it did hiking on a clearly defined path. I thought the hardest part was going to be physically climbing my way up, but it turned out the hardest part was finding the trail markers and going the right way. It turned out well in the end, as I arrived at a high peak that afforded 360° views around the coast of Croatia. The snow capped peaks on one side fed down into a rapidly descending valley that spilled out into the coast of the Adriatic Sea, which you could see for miles from my vantage. I enjoyed a hikers lunch on top and then continued on to what became one of the hardest hikes of my life.

Rather than recognizing that I had just done an extremely strenuous hike that involved climbing up and over boulders, sometimes with a cable as assistance, and going back down the same (albeit previously traveled) way, I let my adventurous side make the decision and go a new way down so I could see new sights. That was stupid. I got lost twice along the way, as it’s harder to come down from a mountainside following the faded markings than it was coming up it. Also, picking your way down a craggy and crumbling mountainside is an easy way to lose your footing, which may or may not have happened thrice. It probably would’ve helped to have legit hiking shoes, but I had confidence in my sturdy running shoes. That was misplaced. An hour and a half later of angry hiking later, I checked to see how much further I was from the trailhead to find I had only made it halfway back. At this point in the hike I began puncturing the tranquil sounds of Croatian nature with colorful and projecting expletives, cursing everything from rocks to shoes trail makers to a fucking snake that crossed the trail. After a grueling series of up and down and up and downs I finally reached the last descent of the trail which was just a rockslide in repose. 5 hours after starting the trail I finally made it back, having stopped in a freezing mountain stream to wash my face and head, which also had a surprising effect of washing away my anger and frustration as well. Unburdened and refreshed I made it back to my car and began the drive up the coast of Croatia.

It was a beautiful drive along the cliffs as I drove 4 hours up to my last stop of Rijeka, Croatia. The only reason I picked it was it was on my way to Slovenia, and didn’t really know much about it. I got into town, found a pizza, took some medicine to bang out the last of my cold, and called it a night. And with that, my Croatian chapter ended. It had its ups and downs in the most literal sense, but I very much enjoyed my time in the country. It’s a beautiful place, with such diverse topography from the coast to inland, that I could easily see spending a few weeks to explore some more. My next few stops were going to take me deeper into the mountains, so it was great to enjoy the coast and sounds of the sea for a couple days.

Making dumb decisions so you don’t have to,

Ben

Border Crossings

Before I left Serbia I wanted to stop at a scenic view of a snaking river deep in the bottom of a photogenic gorge. It showed up on Google Maps, so it looked official. I punched it in, set the navigation and started on my way. I started to drive out of the city and passed through proceedingly smaller and smaller cities as the roads got windier and windier. On about the 23rd roundabout I got folded into a procession of mini tour vans, two in front of me and one behind. It looked like we were going in the same direction and like Luke Skywalker in stormtrooper armor, I had to just go with the flow and see how it went. As the road went from two lanes to one, from paved road to dirt, and from buildings to rolling hills, I started to wonder what the hell I was getting myself into. Eventually the tour buses in front of me pulled into what looked like someone’s private driveway as a guy standing before them greeted them and motioned for them to unload. I sat idling behind them and was eventually directed to pull into a parking spot, so the tour bus behind me could unload as well. Apparently this was someon’s private property that had an agreement with a local tour group, and I had somehow been mistaken as a tour attendee who had decided to drive himself to the location.

Not to let the illusion fade, the group had started walking through the open gate so I flung on my shoes and fell in at the back of the group. Everyone in the group was speaking Serbian so I tried to avoid any conversation lest I be discovered as an interloping American. Also it was like 9am and I hadn’t had coffee so I didn’t really want to chat anyways. I inserted myself deeper into the group (but still off to one side) as we approached the vantage point and got a good view of the gorge below. It really was beautiful, as the group stopped to listed to the guide explain who the fuck knows what in Serbian. I feigned interest while taking as many pictures as possible, all but convinced at any point someone was going to call me out, talk to me, ask me a question, or ask for a picture and my cover would be blown. After I had gotten all the pictures I needed I slowly backed my way up the hill, miming needing a better vantage to get the full scope of the view below. At this point, the tour guide was directing people’s attention down into the gorge in the opposite direction, and I took this moment to continue backing away until I found a shrub to duck behind. From there, like James Bond…ok ok, like Leslie Nielsen in ‘Spy Hard’ I escaped from view and power walked back to my car. My final test was in front of me, as I wasn’t sure if there would be anyone to challenge my escape or ask me where I was going. I speak no Serbian, so even the simplest question would’ve revealed me as a freeloader right away. My only hurdle were the drivers of the tour vans, who probably should’ve known something was up with that one blonde-haired guy in the Kia Sportage with Bulgarian license plates. However, with the full confidence of Madonna getting ready to adopt another baby from Africa, I strolled up to the car, nodded to the drivers, started the car up, waved goodbye, and did my best to not peel away. Constantly searching the rear view mirror for signs of a flailing tour guide/land owner running up the hill after me screaming in Serbian, I pulled away and drove out of the area and out of Serbia.

Now a (completely imagined) criminal in Serbia, I fled to the Monetnegro border. My destination in Montenegro was Kotor, an alpine lake resort city in the south of the country. It took me a while to get there, but boy was it a beautiful drive. Driving through the country I decided that Montenegro is improperly named. I think Monteverde is more appropriate as all of of the mountains are covered in evergreen trees in an affect that is simply gorgeous. I’m sure there’s a reason an old white conquerer christened the country its name, but this young white guy has got a different opinion that everyone needs to listen to and take as completely valid! Whatever you call it, and despite the rainy weather for most of the journey, it was absolutely stunning. The high mountains and jutting peaks made for stark beauty and dramatic sight lines. I stopped for a little coffee in the Djokovic Hotel (no relation to the tennis player unfortunately) in a mountain village and finished the rest of my winding journey down into Kotor. The city reminded me of a mix of Queenstown, Hakone, and Ha Long Bay. Queenstown for the mountain village feel, Hakone for the breakthtaking lake views, and Ha Long Bay for the enormous mountains rising directly out of the water. It’s a really beautiful city, rain or torrential rain. I called it an early night due to all of the driving and a budding fever, and was swept into blissful sleep by the reassuring sound of rain dropping on the roof above me.

The next morning I awoke to…more rain. Undeterred by both this and my cold, I popped some pills and walked around old town Kotor and admired the ancient walls that rose up into the misty mountains above. During my meandering in the cold wet morning I stumbled on a path that looked like it switchbacked its way up above the city. It was at this point that I unlocked a new level of my whiteness: Hiking in the Pouring Rain white. I never thought I’d willingly get to this tier, but sometimes we don’t get to choose the type of person we were meant to be. It offered some great and eerie views of the lake below and I went until I couldn’t see beyond the clouds anymore. Fully drenched and invigorated I changed, showered, and set off to my next country. The last part of the drive through Monetnegro was still gorgeous as I spilled out of the mountain range down into Bosnia and Herzegovina below.

My destination in Bosnia was Mostar, the second biggest city in the country and a popular tourist destination. It’s settled in the foothills of a large mountain range and has a large hill with a large cross towering over the city itself. The drive on the way there highlighted the poverty the country is still pulling itself out of, brought on by the war not much younger than I am. Taking my time on the way I stopped for a bit and had lunch out of the trunk of my car while enjoying the valley below. There were also some beautiful rivers and lakes along the way and fully relished in the lack of urgency I had in arriving. It helped that I wasn’t feeling all that well and didn’t feel compelled to put my body through the physical exertion of another hike. Sometimes I do things on the smart side of decision-making. I walked around town after getting in, which I managed to complete in about 10 minutes. It had a river running through it and a couple nice bridges with some good vantage points. I hit up the store while the moques began their evening calls to prayer and cooked a dinner of soup for myself and cozied up in the heated apartment as a massive thunderstorm crashed its way overheard into the night.

The next day I felt better after having taken 2 days of cold pills, so I hiked up the top of the hill above town which entailed more roadside walking than I would have liked. I made it up to the top and enjoyed the Tetris Cross and nice views of the town below. I didn’t want to stray too far from the trail in fear of unearthed mines that still hadn’t been cleared from the area. I made my way back down, got caught up with Peter on the phone, and then made my way out of town. I tried to stop at a waterfall park on the edge of the Bosnian-Croatian border but I didn’t have any Bosnian Marks and they didn’t take cash so below are some pictures that were as close as I could get. Enjoy!

That whimper of an adventure marked the end of my time in Bosnia as I crossed into Croatia and began the northern journey towards my final destination of Prague.

Always min(e)ding my business,

Ben

You’re Serbian Cute

Driving away from Bulgaria I was swallowed up by the mountainsides and cleaved gorges of Serbia. It was quite difficult to drive because the cliff faces I had to drive through were so imposing and impressive. I stopped over when I could to snag a picture just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming up the sights I was seeing.

My first stop was the little town of Nis, on the eastern part of the country. It’s a cute university town, with a river cutting through the middle of it. I parked my car and wandered around for a bit, stopping to exchange money and bought the first of what turned out to be nearly 20 boreks over the course of 10 days. A borek is a Balkan pastry, made using filo dough in the shape of a giant spiral cut into pizza shape wedges. They can be filled with cheese, meat, spinach, chocolate, anything really. I didn’t know it at the time but this was my first taste of a gateway pastry that would haunt me through my subsequent countries.

After that I did some of the administrative work I’d been slacking on doing, like answering emails and buying ice cream cones. Before sunset I wandered into town and found a little place outside to enjoy a nice quiet dinner. While enjoying the beautiful view and people-watching, a family sat down for dinner behind me. Their two year old daughter then proceed to incessantly scream “Mama!” for the next half hour. I nearly whirled around and bitch-slapped the little shit into next Tuesday, but kept my cool. Couldn’t they tell I was trying to enjoy my platter of sheep meat in peace?!

Unwinding back home with a ice cream cone or three, I finished up a much-needed load of laundry and called it a night. The next day was an early start as I drove through a tiny little village up to a deserted ski resort which was the trailhead for my next hiking destination. It was a beautifully clear spring day and the greenery of the trees was once again stunning. The hike cleared the trees after a while and I reached a fork in the saddle between two mountains. Obviously I chose to go to the taller one. Battling the howling winds whipping up from the valley below and the the rocky trail beneath my feet I finally reached the top and was rewarded with a stunning view. You could see for miles across the mountain ranges and rolling foothills of Serbia.

After a short little lunch break I decided to try my luck at a timed selfie, something I still haven’t been able to manage on my travels. One of the difficulties of traveling solo is taking pictures of yourself. Also, water is wet. I’ve managed the selfie quite well (as you can tell from the hundreds of photos of me), but the timed picture has still eluded me. Well, as you can see below after some trial and error I finally got a good one, got cocky, and had a full on photo shoot. Please, don’t contact your agents to book me for the fall runway at New York fashion week just yet, I’m still trying to figure out which fashion house is the most morally bankrupt, like me.

The way back was a nice leisurely walk back down the mountain, and I drove on to my next destination of Novi Pazar, which is down in the south and skirts Kosovo along the way. Imagine if Taiwan was land-locked by China and that’s basically what Kosovo is like to Serbia. With surprising self control I didn’t cross the border, instead taking the long, meandering way through the beautiful countryside. At one point, given all the verdant scenery along the way, I decided the best score for this journey would be Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C Minor. As the first movement started to get rocking, so did I. I conducted the violins to their feverish tremolos, brought the brass in with forceful gesturing, and pounded out the percussion lines on the steering wheel. Everyone driving the opposite way got a full show of a deranged mad man at the wheel banging his head and gesturing wildly like he was listening to Megadeath on full blast. Little did they know I was rocking out to the intricate and interweaving melodies of a 192-year dead deaf German composer going through an emo phase. I was a man possessed, whistling along with the soaring and tremulous piccolo solo, reveling in the lushness of the cello soli in the start of the second movement, thundering along as deep as possible with the bass lines, and shouting in high alto with the triumphant blaring of the trumpets. I don’t know what spirit got hold of me on this drive, but something about the scenery and the soundtrack along with it was intoxicating, and I was FEELING myself. For some reason I find German composers to be my punk rock, thus forever cementing my status as an orchestra nerd.

But as the finale started to play and the evening sky started to color I thought back to how I got to this point in my life, and what this type of music meant to me. I eventually followed the thread of memory all the way back to being forced to learn piano by Mom at a young age. Moving forward from there, that begat a begrudging acceptance of playing followed by a genuine enjoyment, which lead to the discovery of cello, further blossoming into one of the true joys of my life. And from there memories of playing Beethoven’s Fifth came rushing back and a mixture of joy and pride came gushing out as I reminded myself that I was able to create the sound I was hearing. So I placed myself back in the music and it gave me chills: I was given the gift of music and the opportunity to cultivate it to the point where I could personally produce a sound so elegant and beautiful as what I was hearing coming through the speakers. At this point I started crying as these thoughts coalesced and all I could think was how grateful I was to my parents for giving this gift to me. Ok let’s be honest, 95% of it came from Mom. Music has been such an important part of my life and has been an indispensable outlet for me to work through my feelings and emotions during this trip and most specifically on dealing with Mom’s passing. My most vibrant epiphanies have had some sort of musical cue soundtracked with them, and this drive through the hills of Serbia only served to remind me how vulnerable and open I can be when I let those moments take over me.

Having safely made it in to Novi Pazar despite swollen eyes and swollen hands from vigorously pounding the steering wheel on beat, I explored around town and treated myself to the meat plate specialty of the city, which was called cevapi. With 100% less annoying children around I was able to enjoy it in peace and go to bed a fully fed and happy man. Little did I know the next day would bring out an exploration into the criminal life and an escape across country borders, but that’s a story for another day. Until then, find your inner punk and rock out unabashedly, even if that’s to Mozart or Yanni or Reba McEntire.

Rock on,

Ben

Into ‘Taken’ Territory

As I got off the train I heard sirens wailing in the distance. I’m not sure if it was the blinkered morning feeling of not getting enough sleep the night before or if they actually were getting closer. I glanced up and down the track to see if anyone was eyeing me. I looked back at the scene behind me as the old man reached a hand out and searched into my eyes and said…”If I don’t see you again, safe travels”.

No, I didn’t kick him in the back off the train. But god help me, I wanted to. Instead I took my anger out on my roller bag, which I dragged behind me on my walk to my hostel like Kris Jenner dragging her least favorite child Rob to some semblance of fame. I got settled and set about exploring Sofia, which is a city still escaping from the shadow of Soviet era rule. Actually, I’m not even sure if Bulgaria was part of the USSR and I’m not going to look it up. Though it’s the capital of the country, it’s still possible to walk around the whole city in a couple hours. While I was waiting for my room to be ready I strolled the streets, stopping every now and then for some coffee and pastries to keep me awake.

Eventually I got settled in and took a stab at planning out my road trip. My friend Nic is joining me on my adventures and we had agreed to meet in Prague on May 14th. I had arrived into Sofia on the 30th of April so that gave me 2 weeks to get there. Instead of making any headway I fell asleep and watched some Netflix eating Milka chocolate in bed. However, I did pick up the rental car and even managed to plan something for the next day. Long-term planning would have to wait.

My first full day in Bulgaria was a national holiday, so it was quiet in the city. I didn’t take advantage of it, instead opting to drive to the mountains down south and go for a hike. It was a beautiful drive up and around the city, and the landscape around Bulgaria really is something to behold. Sofia is built in the valley of mountains, giving it a stunning backdrop as well as easy access to jutting peaks. As I got closer to the mountain range I could see the snow capped peaks rising out of the green forest below and I got really excited. Having spent so much time in major cities surrounded by people the last month or so, I was ready to get out of cities and into nature. I was like some white bastardized version of that classic Billy Ocean song.

Climbing up and up the winding mountain road I eventually found the parking lot and trudged up to the trail I’d be taking. There was still some pockets of snow in some areas, but I didn’t let that deter me. I thought, “It’s May, there’s still can’t be too much snow on the trail.” This is called foreshadowing, dear reader, and wait til you see how comically it plays out. Eschewing the faster and easier route of the chairlift I instead hiked underneath it, slipping and sliding up the muddy mountain face. I was walking gingerly though, so I thought I’d have no problem the rest of the way. Finally reaching the summit, I got to the ACTUAL trailhead on the mountain and saw that I would be going…directly onto a snowfield. Undeterred, I saw it was only a 6km loop and something I could do easily. There were no rain clouds and it was a sunny day, so I forged ahead in full confidence of my facilities and capabilities.

As I started to climb, the views became more and more incredible. The combination of a moderately warm spring day while on top of a snow-capped mountain peak was utterly breathtaking. But that was mostly due to the high winds that were whipping their way up from the valley below. It was such a beautiful vista and I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to see a sight as epic as what my eyes were seeing. There were supposed to be 7 lakes along the trail, but they were still frozen over and covered with snow. That didn’t take away from the beauty of the day however, as you can see below.

And here is also where I share with you my hiking gear for the day. I know no one is shocked, but I can feel the silent disappointment and disapproval as each of you reads this and judges me (completely validly, I would have to say so myself).

At this point in the hike my shoes had already gotten wet from the melting snow seeping through the porous knitted fabric of my sneakers. Instead of going back the same way I came, I decided to follow the loop through the decidedly snowier return path. Three sheets to the wind I bounded down with giddy spirits at the ridiculousness of what I was doing and the childlike joy of hiking down a snowy mountain. This lasted a short while, as I soon found my feet crashing down through the weak surface of the snow and my body became engulfed up to calves, knees, and sometimes thighs. A few times I decided to slide down on my butt or feet down a particularly steep portion. Proportionally more times, gravity decided for me.

Eventually I was over the hike, but lo and behold I was only back at the original trailhead and still had to hike back down to the car. At this point snow was replaced by mud, which was even more treacherous. Once I slipped and was able to save myself from getting completely muddied with a nifty swerve and pivot on my hand. Several minutes later I slipped again and got mud on parts of my body I didn’t even know had touched the ground. So I stomped my way down the rest of the way, not a care for how wet my shoes were (very wet), how muddy my clothes were (very muddy) nor how pissed I was (VERY pissed). After getting back to my car I took off my shoes, ate some food, and felt so much better. I then started laughing at what a ridiculous adventure I had been on and had a merry drive back to Sofia, happy to be back in nature. I got back to Sofia and had a nice dinner including a delicious dessert that looked like a cherry. I also bought a new pair of “hiking” shoes, which have more tread than my previous pair but are still just running shoes. Will I ever learn? No.

My last day in Sofia I decided to test my luck again on a hike, this time closer to the city, and 100% less snow-capped. It was a beautiful drive up the mountain side, and spring was in full bloom as the green of the aspen trees was nearly blinding. I would’ve sworn they were neon, as the brightness of the leaves was almost unnatural. I hiked my way up to the top of the mountain that overlooks the city, and had some beautiful views. On my way back down I decided to stop at a waterfall, which dropped off a cliff over a valley that fed into the city below. It was incredible, but it sure was a bitch to get to. I got a little lost on the way back but found the car again, and getting some last pictures in of the hillsides and a natural rock river, let Bulgaria fade in the pavement behind me. I made my way to the border of Serbia, my next destination, happy to have spent time in Bulgaria. It’s a beautiful country with many Turkish and Soviet influences melding together. Alas, I didn’t see Grigor Dimitrov but saw posters of him everywhere so I felt like I did.

Onwards and upwards,

Ben