Balance is Messy

Starting this blog, my intention was to talk about the merits of balancing all the parts of your life you want, and being able to access them all if you wanted. Want a house, but still want to travel? I gotcha. Have kids and still want to travel? Yep, we can talk about that. Social anxiety and still dream of heading out into the unknown? Let’s break it down….

What I failed to mention, failed to consider, failed to remember, is that learning to balance is messy. It’s not just a conversation about “just do it”. I get it. There are mortgages to consider, jobs and careers to consider, families to consider. Lifestyles we’ve grown so accustomed to, that risking it fills us with fear. We may dream of “chucking it all” and going to live in Tahiti. However, the reality for most is that’s too big of a leap to go from 9-5 to Island Hippie. So we have to find a balance.

I took gymnastics lessons as a kid and the balance beam terrified me. Falling off I just kept imagining getting hurt- even as a kid I had forward thought and fear of what could happen if I fell. I watched other kids skip, leap and dance across the beam with no fear and was envious. As an adult I’ve actually become more of a risk taker. I’ve learned to lose my balance and jump out of planes, off bridges, and jump into situations that push me wayyyyyy out of my comfort zone. I’ve stumbled and lost my balance in relationships, jobs and my health- but each time I learn a little more about what makes me stronger and how to balance.

There’s a saying that tells us to “trust the process” and I’ve never been great at that. But I’m learning. Balance is messy. You must fall down, and get back up… and fall again, and again, and again, and again. And each time we get up we learn a little more about our center of gravity. Which way to lean, to trust your footing. Not to close your eyes and go blindly… but to focus and believe in your ability.

Balancing life is messy. But with a little risk, a little practice, we can learn to have the great fulfilling life that we crave. I’m still learning and practicing. And if you’re lucky sometimes, the universe opens up and looks you square in the eye and says “trust the process, you’ve got this”. We just have to be willing to get on that beam, even if we do fall off. Cause I know that learning to balance means I will get myself back up there and try again.

Don’t Live for Fridays

I lazily walked through my yard this morning, surveying the overgrowth and clumpy, late-summer plants that have taken over the perimeter of my lot. I ran my hands over the knots in my hammock, sighed and plopped down. For about a half-hour, I just rocked back and forth feeling the wind rustle my sun-bleached hair, letting the sun hit my skin in the hopes I wouldn’t lose how the brown my skin had become.  My chin started to quiver, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The tears didn’t come, but I could feel it… the high of returning home had worn off.  I’d seen my mom, my brother and sister-in-law, my niece and nephews and my travel buddies from the first part of my trip. I’ve gone out to lunch, dinner, and drinks with friends I missed so much when I was away.  I’ve chatted online with people I met while I was away, curious as to how they’re doing, what they’re doing. Are they still traveling?   I’ve restocked my fridge, done laundry, and watered my plants. I’ve gone to the gym and I’ve even gone into work to prepare for the next school year.  And as I sat there on my hammock, eyes closed, I realized I want to go back- to traveling. It’s only been 10 days.

So many travel bloggers have written about post-trip depression- about coming home and immediately wanting to be back to the thrill of being on the road. So, that’s not what I’m writing about here. You can google it and get a dozen articles. No. what I’m talking about is the let down of the travel high.  No matter how thin the hostel mattress, or how long the bus rides were- it was an adventure, it was exhilirating. Being constantly surrounded by people (even when you didn’t want to) was oddly comforting. I traveled solo for the last nearly 6 weeks of my vacation. But today I never felt more alone.

Being home to reality took 10 days to hit me, and today is tough.

The whole purpose of me starting this blog was to help myself and others to find balance with their day-to-day lives. That it’s ok to love the routine and monotony as much as loving the uncertainty and unparalleled freedom that comes from traveling in a foreign country. It’s ok to have both. Yet… it’s difficult going from one extreme to another. For two months I felt free. I had zero home stress. I didn’t have to be anywhere, to do anything or answer to anyone I didn’t want to. Sure I had “survival” stress, where’s my hostel? Is this city safe? Is the person I just agreed to spend the day with safe? But that stress, to me, was tantalizing, it was freeing, it made me realized I needed to have that excitement in my day-to-day life.

Shortly after I returned home, I read something that said,  “Don’t live for Fridays”. Well, damn wasn’t that just the perfect thing to read. Cause we do it. All of us. We complain about Mondays, and exclaim, “TGIF!” at the end of the week.  But every day when you’re traveling is a Friday.  You wake up, and you do something amazing… you can’t help it- even if it’s just walking down the street in a new city, or eating a shitty hostel breakfast with 10 strangers, it’s still an adventure, and your senses are on massive overload. The stimulation I get from traveling is like a drug. You are on sensory overload and you seek out the next best thing to top the day before…. and when I get home, that feeling just isn’t the same. But why can’t it be? Why can’t I live every day like I’m on vacation? Ok, ok, maybe not every day, after all, this is all about balance.  But I can’t tell you how many times last year I said, “Oh, I can’t tonight, I have work tomorrow” or the weekends that would go by so quickly I’d have a panic attack on Sunday night thinking about work the next day, and wondering how I’d make it through five days until Friday.

So. That’s what I’m working on this year. Join me if you want- no more Fridays. No.More.Fridays. I’m taking my week back. I’m taking one day at a time, saying “yes” more, shutting off work when work is over and living & loving the world around me. Using all my personal days, quick weekend trips, more stamps in my passport… more plans with friends… more non-feeling guilty nights in… more trips to the gym….more going to see my friends play music… more trying new recipes… more taking classes… and more saying “no” to things don’t give me joy.  After all, it is all about balance. Time to start collecting more moments. Who’s in?

Hisa Franko

I took a sip of the my wine, sat back, and smiled. As the server was clearing the most recent course and re-issuing me silverware, I tentatively asked, “So, does Ana cook anymore?” The server looked at me, smiled, and although I knew the answer, she said it so much more eloquently than I could have imagined. She simply said, “Ana creates.” Such a simple statement, but such a powerful testament to Ana’s success. She has worked so hard, and surrounded herself with such a solid team, that she gets to do what she is passionate about- creating delicious works of art to fill the senses of diners in search of just an ounce of that emotion. And emotion is what comes across in Ana Ros’s cooking.

Rewind to about a year ago. My best friend, Tony and I were waking up after a night of hanging out at my house and we casually flicked on “Chef’s Table” on Netflix. We both sipped our coffee, and then I’m not sure we spoke for the next several hours. We watched episode after episode of some of the most premier chefs in the world who talked about their inspiration, their lives, their hard work, what they gave up and what they gained by sticking to their passion of creating edible works of art. It’s truly the best way I can describe it. If you haven’t watched this series, it’s binge worthy and so beautifully done. From the music, the images, the cinematography of the whole thing makes this casual foodie’s heart soar. Although, perhaps it’s not the food. I am inspired by passion. Passion turns me on. Passion takes a person from mediocre to the most attractive human in the world. And I think I fell in love a dozen times watching this series. Tony eventually left my house, and I continued binging on Chef’s Table. An episode began with lush, green, vegetation and a young woman with blonde fuzzy hair who looks like she could potentially be my family member. I remember stopping what I was doing and watching intently as she introduced that this magical place I was seeing was Slovenia. I sat back and watched Ana Ros tell her story- she talked about how she was trained to be an international diplomat… that her family had plans for her and expectations. And she chucked it all for love, and a passion for creating and cooking. And now, after years and years of hard work, Ana has one of the 50 best restaurants in the world (2018). Ana is unlike a lot of chefs, she is completely self-taught. She read books, watched others, and found her path using ingredients indigenous to her surroundings. I was enamored with the verdant hillsides and valleys by which she was surrounded. The fact that this was the same country my great-grandmother left many years ago, made it even more alluring.

Fast forward a few months and I was planning my trip to the Balkan Peninsula trying to figure out where to begin and end my trip and this episode of Chef’s Table popped into my head. Slovenia. What if I could end my trip in Slovenia and have an experience at Hisa Franko? A bit of excitement bubbled up inside me as I sent an email to the restaurant to see if it was possible for a single diner to get a reservation at this incredible place. A few days later, my email was answered. Yes, of course they could accommodate me, but it was a bit early to make reservations (it was February, I was looking for July). They asked me to email back in March. And I did- I had my dates set and 27th of July I would sit down and experience a production of 11 courses with wine pairings in the beautiful Soca Valley in Slovenia.

For the last seven weeks I have been backpacking up the Balkan Peninsula. I’ve wound my way up via bus, plane and ferry from Greece to Albania to Montenegro to Bosnia & Herzegovina, to Croatia and finally to Slovenia. I’ve been staying in dorm beds in hostels, eating free breakfasts, eating pizza for dinner, and watching every penny. However, last night, I shook out my one nice dress, sprayed it with some febreeze, put make up on, and put on my “fancy” flip flops. It was like I was getting ready for a first date. I was ready an hour early, and would chatter to anyone who would listen about my excitement. Being all dressed up, I stood out at my outdoorsy hostel where hiking boots and smelly hiking gear was the norm. I could hardly contain myself as my taxi picked me up and we made our way down the valley, hugging the blue-green Soca River down to Kobarid, and out a few kilometers to Staro Selo where we arrived at Hisa Franko. I actually had to remind myself to wait until the car stopped before getting out. My driver, named Danilo, laughed and reminded me that I turned into a pumpkin around 11:00pm. After some obligatory photos in front of the Hisa Franko sign, I walked across the parking lot, hoping my footsteps would drown out my heart that was beating so fast, I was sure everyone could hear it. I breathlessly walked to the restaurant which can be best described as going to dinner at someone’s country home. The restaurant actually is where Ana, Valter and their two children live (I’m unsure if they still do, but they did while building the restaurant up). There is also a bed and breakfast on the property- I had tried to get a reservation there too, but they were booked up even before March! Mountains surrounded the restaurant, while green fields stretched out in every direction giving the feeling that you were truly in the middle of nowhere. Flowers blossomed and hung from baskets, and grew in vines up the buildings. A simple plaque hung by the front double doors that said “Hisa Franko”. I steadied my breath and opened the door.

I was greeted by a lovely hostess who confirmed my “no beef” preference for the menu. I truly hate putting limitations on this menu, but after not having eaten beef for going on 23 years, I didn’t think now was a good time to introduce that to my belly. That said, I told myself no matter what I was served I would eat it all. I had the option of doing a vegetarian menu or a fish/seafood only menu- but I felt that was too restrictive. So here we go. As I was escorted to my table, I was taken with the simplicity of the decor. A simple, but elegant, egg shaped spotlight was strung across the wood beam and white ceiling over each table. Each table had a crisp white table cloth emblazoned with a pale purple flower which matched the linen napkin perfectly rolled in front of my seat. My purse had its own seat next to me so it didn’t have to hang on my chair or rest on the floor. A thick, cylindrical white candle, a stone, and a vase with pale red, but not quite pink, flowers were the only decor on the table. A simple stone bread plate, a sleek butter knife and a small stone bowl containing the creamiest homemade butter I’ve ever had in my life, made up my place setting.

I was immediately presented with 6 thick slices of home made sourdough bread fermented with apple peels. My mouth immediately started watering. Sourdough is my absolute FAVORITE bread in the whole world. The person who presented my bread explained that it took four years to get the recipe right and this was their “house bread” now. Next up was the Sommelier who poured me a glass of sparkling wine as an appertif. Then a crunchy cheese lollipop made from cheese from Tolmin which had been aged 2 months and then another 4 months in Valter’s cheese cellar. Everything happened swiftly, it was like a waltz, I was spun around, slightly disoriented, left a little breathless, but wanting a little more. I couldn’t even imagine what was to come.

As I settled into my role as “madam” (that’s what they called me… “Certainly madam”, “My pleasure, madam”, “Here’s another piece of paper for you to take notes on madam, I noticed you were running out of room”) I realized that I was here to be taken care of. I was a guest- not just a customer. The sommelier would refill the glasses of my wine without hesitation, my water glass never was empty, and silverware specific to each course was placed at my setting along with a casual comment or conversation from the servers. That’s the thing about this place. There was no pretentiousness. The servers spoke like humans, not robots. They indulged my silly questions and comments. The sommelier even warmed up to me when, after telling me one of the wines was from near Maribor, I told him my great grandmother was from there. He said, “Oh, so you have roots here” And he seemed a little flustered as we had a little conversation about the region. The servers helped each other… I caught them laughing, smiling and enjoying the experience. Dining alone I was able to be a conscious observer of others, and it was fascinating. There were newlyweds, friends, and groups together. They delighted in each bite, being little food critics, taking pictures- smiling at these creations. That’s the thing about food. It’s a medium that truly uses every single one of our senses. It’s not just about filling our bellies- it can be so much more than that. Watching people get excited to try things, and with wide-eyes, exclaim that they were NOT expecting that- I loved watching how food brought people together.

A smiling server set down a sliver tray with a single dish and a small glass cup on it at my side table, took a breath and began to explain. My Eleven Course Symphony was about to begin, and I couldn’t have been more ready. I hope you enjoy my memories of my favorite restaurant experience to date.

My journey began with something called “Salty Recycled Bead and Tarragon Story” which was a tiny dish of a whipped bone marrow with salty creaminess and a chip of recycled bread (they use the day old bread so it doesn’t go to waste). The dish was accented with tiny flowers and a small glass of buttermilk sprinkled with tarragon. The idea was to use the chip as a dip of the marrow, take a bite and then a sip of the buttermilk. Such a surprise that I liked this. But the salty-creamy-crunchy balance was outstanding with the pop of herb and tangy sour of the buttermilk. The sparkling wine I had been served as an appertif was perfect for this very full-of-fat dish.

Next up was “Apricot, fermented cottage cheese and hibiscus flowers” This was such a neat dish. The meat of the apricot was pressed out, rolled super thin and filled with a fermented cottage cheese mixture. It was like a dehydrated fruit roll up, and then rolled up with a creamy center. Somehow the apricot was also flash fried, but the dish wasn’t warm. It was topped with dehydrated onion chips, hibiscus flowers and salt. Maybe the best part was that it was served with their version of an apricot bloody mary! I picked up the apricot roll, took a bite and immediately took a sip of the Bloody Mary. Wowza. The slight crunch giving way to the creamy cheese inside, and the pop from the onion chip with a little floral from the hibiscus was actually hilarious to me. I couldn’t believe that this all went together so perfectly! I tried to make this one last… but in 3 bites it was gone.

The sommelier joined me again for the next dish and poured me a glass of wine which was called Zelen. It was a great white that went well with the funkiness of the next dish. The next dish was called “Fermented Fig, different textures of yeast and wild clove flowers”. A tiny slice of fermented fig was surrounded by a creamy sauce of the fermentation liquid, yeast chips and Ethiopian spices. There were a lot of textures going on here, and I wanted to absolutely love this dish, but it was just ok for me. The best part was the way the texture played with each other. I wanted more fig flavor- but I got a mouthful of yeast really instead of a good balance of fig. That said, the more I mixed everything together, the better the dish became, my final bite gave the union I was looking for and it ended with a bang.

My favorite dish was next. The sommelier poured a glass of red Pinot Grigio- I had never had that before! I listened intently when he said that the Pink Grigio grapes were left with skin contact for 8 days before they were removed. It went perfectly with the dish called “ Garden cucumber, emulsion of chocolate, plum usmeboshi and salted lemon” This tiny, seemingly simple show-stopper was everything I ever wanted in a salty-sweet-savory fruit dish. Compressed and fermented cucumbers paired with green strawberries, compressed watermelon, bits of salted lemon peel, over a bed of salted chocolate emulsion with vanilla oil and olive oil. In my very uneducated opinion, the salt in this dish is what made these flavors go boom! Every little bite was like a burst from a very grown up bag of Skittles.

A close contender for best dish was next, “Green bean scogliera II/sea snails, clams, mussels, razor clams in black garlic”. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I saw this on the menu, but it certainly wasn’t the little swirl of a birds nest of green beans that I was presented. It appeared to be a pasta dish, but the green beans acted like pasta, julienne strips, thin like vermicelli. Then they were tossed with/soaked in a sea broth of the sea snails, clams, mussels and razor clams which gave a massive “I’m in the ocean” punch when you bit into it. The black garlic beautifully balanced out the saltiness. I was surprised with the addition of a crispy chicken skin on top of the dish, but after eating the chip first (as I was instructed to do), I think it prepped my mouth for the saltiness of the dish while providing a coating of fat on my tongue too. Whatever the reason, it was fabulous!!!! The sommelier paired a Sauvignon Blanc that was perfect for the salty/sea taste of this dish. Well, at least according to the sommelier. I tried to keep up 🙂

Next was a dish with a fun name: “Black Cod Bob Marley/Pink Floyd Style”- pick your favorite band. It was a piece of cod that was lightly grilled and served with a “Bob Marley” green sauce (I know what you’re thinking and no, there was no marijuana in this dish) the green sauce was mellow and smooth and then a splat of pink sauce that was raspberry sour and bolder. It had a small forest raspberry salad that played with the savory and sweetness of the two sauces. Mixed together there was an infusion of flavors that made me want to lick the plate. The sommelier paired a Pinot Blanc that had been aged in Chardonnay barrels, which was perfection!

“Lick your fingers/Goat Kid & Crab” was the next dish and every single person who knows me should be so proud of me that I ate this ENTIRE dish. This was a tad beyond my comfort zone… but I did it. And although it wasn’t my favorite dish to eat, it was very pretty in its presentation. Two little rolls, not unlike sushi, of a mixture of goat and crabmeat were presented on a slice of a tree, surrounded by pine and leaves. The goat and crabmeat were wrapped in chard from their garden, and beside it was a small dish of a very delicious broth, accented with a dumpling of…. kid goat organs… gulp. But, yep. I ate it all. It wasn’t bad- just a very strong flavor. I feel like the goat and crab was such a powerful combination- for some I bet was incredible, but for me, just was very strong. Again, not bad, just not my cup of tea.

Since I don’t eat beef, I lucked out and didn’t have to force myself to eat the tripe… they served me an alternate which was. “Trout, whey, roasted poppy seeds, beets in Tonka vinegar” And if I could order a single dish again from this menu, this would be it. I wanted seconds after I took my first bite. I wanted this to be a typical 6oz main dish portion. I wanted to swim in the whey sauce. It was a beautiful expression of this indigenous Soca River fish, and the additions of toasted poppy seeds, and pickled beetroot and tonka vinegar provided the acidity this dish needed with the creaminess of the whey. Listening to the scraping of forks and spoons on the dishes makes me realize that I’m not the only one who wants this dish to last just a little bit longer.

The next course made me question why I was a vegetarian for 11 years. Admittedly, staring at a medium-rare piece of meat had me learning to control my gag-reflex, but once I told myself to suck it up and enjoy it, this roebuck just melted in my mouth. The dish was called “Roebuck, anchovy, spruce, wild mushrooms” These two, little, perfect pieces of meat were topped with anchovy butter, sprinkles of spruce powder, crispy wild mushrooms and it all just WORKED. This dish and the next was paired with a great merlot that I wish I had paid attention to more, but all I know is that it was perfect.

My final main dish (that should have been beef tongue, again, saved by my aversion to beef) was Slovenian wild bear. Yep, you read that right… BEAR. And it was delicious. It was prepared so it just fell apart when I put my fork into it… similar to a pulled pork. The sauce that surrounded the tender meat had honey and berries in it, and it was accentuated with trout roe, crispy trout skin and trout foam. It was like she brought the forest to this plate and truly gave a dish I could only find here in Slovenia.

After finishing the main courses, the frenzy of the service swirled around me once again. It all happened so fluidly though, it was like someone had waved a magic wand and my table was cleared of all unnecessary things. I had a blank slate to begin the dessert courses. I was poured a deliciously sweet, but not too sweet, muscat that was just apricots all over the place, it was perfect. Floral but not too floral, fruity, and perfect.

Placed in front of me was a dish that, visually, I liked immediately. It was garnished with popcorn, my FAVORITE snack, and I didn’t care what it was, I just knew it would be great. However, to my excitement I found out that this was actually a cheese cream with walnuts & white chocolate. In the bottom were crunchy bits of caramelized local beer and a beer gelee. Whatever they did to bring out the yeasty-ness of the beer and the sweetness of the cheese balanced with the bitter of the walnuts and foamy crunch of the popcorn was like I was watching football in my living room- if my living room was a mansion on the French Riviera. It was familiar, but elevated and it was so, so great.

Next was a very pretty peach dish, with peaches sliced so thinly they were translucent. It was served with an ice cream made from the sheep and cow milk they had, accented with sweet woodruff (a plant) and local saffron. The crumbles made this dessert like a peach cobbler, reinvented. The coolness of the ice cream and the sweetness of the peaches was the perfect ending to the meal.

I ordered my cappuccino to reflect on what I had just experienced and was then presented with a final end to my “story”. It was a “Sweet Tarragon Story” to book end the first “Salty Tarragon Story” This was a little dish of sweet tarragon cream with another recycled bread chip, but also with two tiny cookies: one of tarragon and one of gingerbread (my FAVORITE). Also with a little piece of fried bread dusted with sugar. To finish it off there was a little kefir lime juice cocktail with it. The acidity of that drink helped to balance out the sweetness of the cookies, cream and bread. But that tarragon – such a unique isolated flavor, brought the whole meal full circle. That little spice brought me back to the beginning of the meal and had me reflect on the three and a half hour performance with such clarity. .

This truly was a performance for the senses. No where else, besides a meal, can all the senses be stimulated at the same time. The stage where the scene is set begins the visual journey with the additions of perfectly placed items on the tables, tiny works of art lovingly created just to be destroyed. The aromas wafting from dishes, creating a reflexive action of salivation makes you experience the dishes sometimes nose first, even before your eyes. The external auditory stimuli that turns your head as you experience your dish- the music so perfectly subtle in the background, the scraping of cutlery on dishes, telling you that the dish was so delicious that people don’t want to leave any morsels on their plate, to the internal sounds as food crunches, pops, melts, tears in your mouth. Actually feeling the items around you, from the perfect chair you sit in, to the softness of the linen napkin in your lap, to the smooth stone plates, the bumps of the sourdough bread, and the delicate stems of various wine glasses. And still yet, feeling the food in your mouth- not the taste— that comes last. But the actual texture of the foods. The balance of chewy and crunchy, smooth and sticky, soft and hard creates an experience with every bite. These dishes come with some instructions at times, and it’s for the diner’s benefit. Finally, taste. Anyone can make great tasting food. However, to create tastes that dance together, that play off each other in such a subtle way takes such skill and knowledge of how we taste food. When you have an experience with a skilled chef, you simply say “of course that works” because it’s perfection.

My experience took three and a half hours, roughly the same running time as when I went to see Hamilton. And I left equally as breathless. Passion in creativity stirs my soul. Passion for caring for a guest, passion for “leaving it all out there”. I don’t know Ana, I didn’t get to meet her, but, she is the real deal. Ana creates dishes that aren’t aggressive. She caresses and encourages the unions of flavors and textures and truly creates a symphony of flavor. She is proud of the region in which she lives which is evident in her food. The whole dining experience fires up every reflex, stirs your senses and evokes strong emotions firmly solidifying this experience in the your memory. Course after course, the experience leaves the diner wanting to throw their head back saying, “Yes! More! More! More!” (Think: Meg Ryan in that classic scene from “When Harry Met Sally”) Instead you silently squirm in your seat, palms a tiny bit sweaty, smiling, not wanting it to be over. But when it is, you’re left glowing, a little breathless and satisfied- at least if they do it right. And Ana and her team, they know what they’re doing

Durmitor National Park (Montenegro)

Despite the insane driver we had for our trip up to Durmitor, I can’t deny that the views and scenery were spectacular. Having been on the coast for so long, I forgot the majesty of mountains, mountain lakes, and crisp, cool air. Along the way we stopped at incredible vistas of mountains, valleys and ultra blue rivers.

One of our first stops was at a National Park with a a beautiful lake that we didn’t get to hike around- but the photos we took were gorgeous- the mountains reflecting in the lake, it was very serene. They also offered camping there, and I feel like if I come back, camping will be the way to go.

We wound our way around incredible passes, along steep cliffs, and through crazy mountain tunnels. After a few near-misses with some massive trucks (don’t worry mom, I’m still alive, so it wasn’t THAT bad), we made it to Tara Canyon with the famous Tara Bridge. It was quite stunning- and I got a chance to do a zip line for the first time… which, if I’m being honest, was so tame in comparison to the bungee I did in Africa. But, it was fun and I was able to lean back and enjoy the scenery for about 45 seconds. I’m definitely looking forward to doing this again for a longer experience.

After hanging around Tara Canyon, we headed further up, up and up to Black Lake in Durmitor National Park. The crisp weather made for a super nice hour and a half hike around the lake- stopping to take plenty of photos, and doing a little “off the trail” hiking with our insane guide. This place was full of huge pine trees, gorgeous trails, crystal clear water and an overall peaceful time.

We stopped by people selling forest strawberries, and raspberries- I bought jam and am looking forward to having it at home to remember this gorgeous place in Montenegro.

I arrived in Kotor roughly around 10pm, making it an extraordinarily long day- I passed out- the next day I was headed to Mostar in Bosnia & Herzegovina.

Montenegro stole my heart….

Morning came very early after my night out in Tirana. I sleepily gathered my things and made my way to the international bus station to get on a 6 hour bus to Kotor, Montenegro. Montenegro is a place that I stumbled upon when researching my trip. I dind’t know much about it, except that there was a beautiful national park in the north and that The Bay of Kotor was stunning.

Some know that my travels began back in 2001 when I decided to jump ship from UW-Madison and head to Australia for a semester at Southern Cross University in Lismore, NSW. I had some American flatmates and 4 Aussie flat mates in our apartment. One girl, Krystal, I have kept up contact with off and on over the last (gulp) 17 years. I had seen on Krystal’s facebook posts that she had fallen in love with the Balkan region and loved Montenegro when she visited. My decision to visit was pretty much based on these posts- so thanks Krystal! She and I talked before I left and she gave me suggestions of things to do, places to see and to just really enjoy the area.

The drive from Albania to Kotor, despite being long, was absolutely STUNNING. Mountains seemed to overlap the shore of the ocean, creating a landscape I can only compare to Hawaii. Lush, green steep cliffs met the crashing water almost instantly, and somehow in certain places, a bay was available enough that people created goregeous towns that were built into the hills and right up to the harbors. Winding through mountain passes took my breath away (and not because the driver was crazy either). It was absolutely impossible to take a picture of, but these scenes are etched into my mind forever.

There are two cities in Montenegro on the coast that most people visit- Budva and Kotor. Budva is the more glamorous of the two cities with casinos, night clubs and beautiful beaches. Kotor was a bit more quaint having a beautiful old town with an old fortress with walls that you could hike up in to the mountains. I decided to hole up in Kotor for a few days- I had every intention of going to Budva for a day trip, but when I got into Kotor I just didn’t want to leave. It was such a sweet town and very chill. I got a basket of raspberries nearly every morning I was there, and waking up to beautiful mountains and the sea was perfect for me.

Kotor was also really fun because I ended up having someone to hike around with that I met in Tirana. The hostel I stayed at gave some really great insider information and told me about this hike around the “back” of Old Town that you could go up the mountain, and get in to the walls of the fortress for free instead of paying the 8 Euros. Sounded great to us, so after a quick brunch in Old Town, we left out of the walls, walked beside a chain link fence, and started up what seemed to be a thousand switch backs up the mountain. The bay was to our back, and the fortress paralleled our path. We passed by fig trees, berry bushes, pomegranate trees, goats and even a little cheese shop and bar. I delighted in the knowledge of my travel companion as all these cool natural things were pointed out to me. The trail forked down and to the right, under some low lying trees and we popped out in the ruins of an old church. We pretty much had this whole beautiful place to ourselves. We peeked into the church and saw the remnants of blue paint on the worn down walls and ceilings. As I walked I ran my hands over the rough stones wondering what it was like for the people who actually used this place. I imagined a priest giving services here, travelers coming to pray for safety in their journeys… I felt like I had stepped back in time. The rustling of the slight breeze from the trees, the bleating of the goats, and our laughter was enough to make me feel like I was floating through life right in this moment. We caught the trail behind the church, and made our way to a little opening in the wall of the fortress, climbing up some old stones and through a little window. And then there we were, standing nearly at the top of the fortress. The view was enough to render this blabbermouth pretty speechless. We let the wind wrap around us and marveled at the majesty in front of us. A few more stairs (hahahhaha) and we were up to the top of the fortress where little rooms, odd little windows, and what seemed to be an old fountain or sewer system existed. Oh, and of course the cats. All the cats. Apparently that’s a thing Kotor is known for- they even have a cat museum! Hilarious. And I feel myself sneezing just thinking about being in that museum- no I did not go 🙂

After relaxing with some ice cold water from the locals who had hauled up coolers full of drinks to sell (genius) we made our way down-down-down the ancient stairs. It cracked us up to see people walking up and down in fancy shoes- one girl even had heels on! I’m not entirely sure how that could possibly be possible or comfortable. My feet would fall of for sure! Filtering out into the main city, all I could think of was “ICE CREAM!” There’s something about being so hot and eating amazing ice cream! We got raspberry, lavender and FIG my FAVORITE! I’m a little obsessed with figs and it’s been killing me to see all the incredible fig trees around, but not being able to grab one and eat it because they’re not ripe yet.

Kotor held a bit of a magical spell over me, maybe it was the company, maybe it was the uniqueness of this landscape, maybe it was that I felt like I was really getting the hang of this traveling solo thing. Cause I realized at this point that although I’m traveling solo, I am definitely not traveling alone. This world is full of beautiful people, beautiful experiences and if you open yourself up and letting your guard down, even for one night, you never know the possibilities that are staring you in the face if you learn simply to be in the moment.

Tirana… oh, what a beautiful surprise

I admit it. I’m not a city person. I’m just not. I nestled myself into the suburb of Lake Zurich, Illinois as a single girl, without a family of my own because living in a city just holds no appeal for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love cities for the culture and the opportunities, but to live… it’s just too hectic for me. I’d rather live in a country feeling place- admittedly with conveniences… but I love the quiet. So, to be honest, going to Tirana wasn’t a huge priority… it was a stopping point between Sarande and Kotor. Well, wow I’m so glad that I did. Tirana has an incredible history- and I highly recommend the free walking tour that starts from Skanderberg Square and takes between 2-3 hours walking around the city. The guy who does the tour is amazing, he goes through detailing it’s complicated past, the present and ideas of where he would love to see it go in the future.

I met Tabitha on the bus from Sarande to Tirana – a fellow American traveling on her own, and we decided to meet up for the tour in the morning. I’m so happy we did! She ended up being a great travel buddy for the day. We walked about 10 miles around Tirana seeing the sights, looking at the quirky street art, the random bunkers around the city and, I “helped” her move to her new airbnb from her hotel and got surprised with some beautiful views of the city from her gorgeous terrace. One of the coolest things we did was to go to a museum called “Bunkart 1” it is a museum that is in an old war bunker- of which there are 177,000 bunkers throughout Albania- the brainchild of the dictator Hojxa (spelling?) who was paranoid about nuclear war. It’s said that when they were all completed there was one bunker per 11 citizens of Albania. Well, this museum was absolutely incredible and provides an eerie step back in time (not that far, really). From the sound effects as you enter the hole in the side of the mountain, to the flickering lights, and the cool, dampness that couldn’t be manufactured, my heart raced a little and thought that perhaps this was all a trick and we would be locked in this bunker forever! Walking down, down, down the steps, we stepped through one, two, three fortified cement and steel doors that looked like hatches in a submarine. We navigated through narrow corridors, peeking in the rooms that had been designed to give you a timeline of Tirana’s history. There was no way to read everything, so we glanced at military uniforms, propaganda signs, looked at what a typical living space in the bunker would have been like, and even were able to be in a mustard gas simulation. By the time we surfaced, over an hour and a half later, we were slightly disoriented and our heads were full of information… we walked to the bus stop musing over what we just had experienced and still couldnt believe how recent the history of conflict has been in this country (1990s) After all the “heavy” we were ready for a break from the heat and the history, so we decided to take a little afternoon break and then meet up to watch the World Cup game (Russia v Croatia) in the Square.

After my nap (god, I’m old) I was heading out of the hostel and ran into a group of people headed down to the square too. It’s amazing how you become fast buddies with people you share common space with. The only thing I can compare it to is my college dorm. You happen to share this common space with a common goal and you can’t help but get to know people and want to have experiences with them. So we excitedly walked down to the square, passing vibrant cafes with people all gathered around television sets ready to see who would be in the final match. By the time we got to the square, the place was packed with people. It was like watching the Super Bowl, but in Times Square. Hundreds (if not thousands) of people were talking, drinking, eating and getting geared up to watch the huge screen that was put at the end of the square. It really was a cool thing to be a part of. Tabitha and I met up and darted off to grab some food- an experience in and of itself! We sat down at one cafe and they were out of everything- so we chugged our beers and literally moved over two tables and were in another grill place. We had a great dinner of grilled meat, a pickle salad and potatoes. Tabitha and I talked about traveling solo as a female, places we’ve been and things we’re excited to do in the future. It truly does amaze me the travel magic that happens when meeting and being with other people in foreign countries.

Making our way back to the square, we joined the group of people and watched with baited breath the shoot out at the end- being in the Balkans, I was definitely cheering for Croatia and it was so great to see them win! There was a chorus of cheers from some Croatians sitting next to us.. off went their shirts and they looked like they felt as if THEY personally had won the match, they were so excited. It was amazing to be a part of.

There is something magical about Tirana, more than I can possibly describe here. I met and hung out with some incredible people. By the time I went to sleep, I was so incredibly mesmerized by this city, the people I had met… I felt as if I was walking on a cloud. Tirana- Albania- I leave a piece of my part in your beautiful city and country as a whole… I hope to be back very soon.

40 before 40

I started traveling abroad, on my own volition, on February 13, 2001. I was 21 years old, barely, and I was headed to Australia for 5 months and New Zealand for a month. There’s no way I could have known at that moment, when my family walked me to the gate of my plane (yes, this was pre-9/11 when you could still walk with your family to the gate to say goodbye) that traveling would become an addiction, an obsession, a passion.

Who knew that every extra penny I had would go toward planning for my next trip.

That I’d subscribe to travel magazines, adventure magazines, ripping pages out, put into a box of dream destinations…

That I’d take on 2, sometimes 3 extra jobs so I never had to say “someday”…

That I’d learn that traveling didn’t always mean staying in the nicest resorts…

That I’d jump from planes, pet tigers, bathe elephants, swim in waterfalls, walk with lions, stare at stars from a yacht, jump off bridges, raft down a raging river, hike mountains to ancient cities, jump into crystal clear water, eat food I can’t pronounce, watch the final World Cup game in the country who is in the final game, party till the sun comes up, walk the Great Wall, swim in The Great Barrier Reef, explore places I had never heard of and so much more.

Who knew that I was capable of making friends in 5 minutes, of trusting strangers, of walking alone at night in a strange city, of navigating a place where they don’t speak my language simply by smiling.

I’ve learned that life truly is what you make of it and no one holds the key to your happiness. I’ve learned that luck has everything to do with where I started out in life, and hard work has allowed me to appreciate and take advantage of the luck I have.

Today marks an incredible moment for me. July 23, 2018, 17 years after that first trip, I will set foot in my 40th country. What seems like a million years ago, I had this idea of getting to 40 countries before my 40th birthday, and today, two years before I turn 40, I will do just that.

One thing I have learned traveling though is that the number doesn’t matter to anyone but you. There will always be someone traveling longer than you, who has been to more countries, who has been to more remote places… and there will always be someone who is traveling for the first time, has been to fewer countries and likes to stick to the landmarks. There is no right or wrong way to travel. Traveling is as individual as each person. Reflecting back on the last 17 years of travel makes me want to cry. The magnificent things I’ve seen, the people I’ve met, all that I’ve learned about myself.

I can’t think of a better country to have as my 40th. My great-Grandmother left Slovenia (Yugoslavia) with her friend when she was 18 to go to The USA. My mom says I get my adventurous spirit definitely her. It’s a special moment that I will end this trip where part of my roots began.

Cheers to 40!

Motorcycles, Mountain Springs, and Magical Albania

Sarande, Albania is only a 30 minute high-speed ferry ride from the coast of Corfu, Greece. It’s close enough that some people actually do day trips to this country and go back to Corfu in the evening. I know when planning this trip, I wasn’t entirely sure about Albania, but knew I’d need to make a few stops there in order to make my way up the Balkans. Come to think of it… I’m not sure why I decided to go all the way up the Balkans- I knew I wanted to see Croatia, but all the others just kind of fell into place while I was researching. I digress.

When Emily and I stepped onto the ferry boat I almost started laughing because it was laughably so gross. This ferry boat had clearly not been updated in years, and the upholstery was full of stains of god knows what and it reeked like cigarette smoke. The weathered men who were taking our big bags and stacking them haphazardly on one side of the boat had cigarettes dangling precariously from their lips and would shout incoherently in Greek sometimes if we weren’t getting our shit together fast enough. Emily and I held our breath and hoped for the best.

Arriving to the port of Sarande was just like any other port in any other town, but stepping into the street to make my way to the hostel, things were pretty residential mixed with some commercial properties. It felt like I was walking down the street in a suburb rather than walking in a port town. The hostel I stayed at called “The Hairy Lemon”was on the 8th floor of an apartment building with the most amazing views of the Sea! It was like staying in your crazy uncle’s apartment building that he threw some bunk beds into and hung a hammock on the wrap around balcony. There were two bathrooms/showers to share among all of us and a free pancake breakfast greeted us every morning. It was a little slice of chilled out heaven that I needed from the “in your face” feeling of the Pink Palace. We spent the day and the beach and after Emily left to go back to Corfu, I returned to the hostel and immediately made some new friends and we went to dinner. Eleine, Stein, and Luke and I made plans to go to The Blue Eye Spring tomorrow out in the Albanian Countryside. It’s a natural spring that is constantly flowing and the water is ice cold. People jump into it to see if they can brave the icy cold water, which sounded amazing to me! There was one catch- Stein and Eline were planning on renting a scooter and Luke was traveling Europe on a motorcycle…. which left me. I have never driven a scooter in my life, and I wasn’t sure that Albania was the place that this would be the best idea. So, Luke offered for me to ride on his motorcycle. I have been on a scooter once in my life, in Tuscany as a passenger and I was so unstable on it that I leaned the wrong way when he was turning and we fell over. Whoops. Did I tell Luke this? Nope. And I have been on a motorcycle once in my life, for a distance of approximately 4 blocks. The whole idea terrified me, but, vacation, amiright? The only thing I’d have to do is find a helmet… how hard could that be? Famous last words.

After a great communal breakfast, I ran into town to find a motorcycle helmet to rent. There were about 1000 shops offering to rent scooters, but not a single one wanted to rent me just a helmet. I offered to pay the cost of a scooter rental like $20 just to have it. But they said no. Except for one place- the owner had lived in Cleveland for years and was so excited to see an American in Albania that he just gave me the display helmet they had. I insisted on giving him some money, so he rented it to me for all of about $5. The Albanian people were so extraordinarily kind to me and went out of their way sometimes to help. I had wandered frantically into a store looking for a helmet, and although the woman didn’t speak Albanian, she went and got her daughter and they helped me. A little old man who owned a bakery gave Emily and I some free sweets when we were ogling all of the goodies. A man helped us find our hostel with a huge, toothless smile and the 14 year old waitress we had talked a mile a minute. I was easily falling in love with the people of this beautiful country.

The 4 of us headed out to the countryside. I was determined to not be a big old baby and just relax on the motorcycle. (Luke didn’t complain all day, so I think I did ok) It was a lot of fun zipping through the countryside, seeing the mountains all around us and eventually we got to the Blue Eye Spring. This place was tucked away down a dusty dirty road. Fortunately when we got there, it wasn’t too busy (read: no big tour busses… yet). And, it was really, really hot… which made the prospect of jumping into the spring very appealing. I’m not entirely certain I would have done it otherwise. The Spring is roughly 165 feet deep (maybe deeper, this is just the deepest people have explored) and gushes at a crisp temperature of 50 degrees. All. Year. Round. Now, back in 2010 after a fun birthday party drinking beers, eating Betty’s Pies and sitting around a little fire on a little peninsula in northern Minnesota… we got the really great idea to jump into Lake Superior at night. When I jumped in, i felt like razor blades were stabbing my body and I got an instant headache. So. I had that background information running through my head as I stared at this incredibly gorgeous bluer-than-blue water gushing up through the earth. But, I was here and… when in Rome…. so I counted, 1-2-3 and jumped into the water. It instantly took my breath away, and the current was SO strong! When I surfaced I’m certain I flashed the crowd, but I was more concerned with getting out and stopping shaking, so- it’s either “You’re welcome” or “I’m sorry” to everyone who was watching.

One thing that just doesn’t interest me is jumping off cliffs into water. I fully admit that it’s a fear of mine to slip and fall and hit my head on a giant rock- but it’s also just not one thing that I enjoy doing. I’ve done it- several times and I’m happy to just sit back and take the pictures now :). So, I sat back and took some fun video of Luke, Eline, and Stein jumping off the platform into the Blue Eye (I jumped just off the ground into the Blue Eye). After we had our fill of our bodies being covered in goose bumps, and wondering, “Do I still have feet? Are they still attached?” We decided to walk around the area and have lunch at this little restaurant next to the rushing river. Our ride back to Sarande was dusty and much windier than when we came- but I was hooked on the motorcycle experience!! Don’t worry mom, I’m not going to get a motorcycle.

After getting changed at the hostel, we said good bye to Luke and Stein and I decided to take the scooter out to Butrint- the beautiful ruins south of the Ksmail beaches. Let me just publicly apologize to Stein right now, because that poor girl had me riding on the back of the scooter which was SO different than the motorcycle! It was definitely shakier and I was a terrible passenger. But we made it. Butrint is a Venetian Palace that is in ruins and is amazing. Imagine Greek ruins- but you can walk all over them! And the complex was amazing- we went at the very end of the day, and there were very few tourists, which made us feel like we were explorers finding this place for the first time. It’s hard to describe in words this place ..so check out the pictures.

That night we went out to dinner with a new crew from the hostel- and this is the best part of traveling- a guy from the Pink Palace in Corfu was staying at the hostel in Sarande! It’s amazing how paths cross! Time to head inland to Tirana as I make my way to start the trip up the Balkans. Updates coming!

Corfu, you little devil, you

I didn’t detail my time in Corfu- but leaving the famous “Pink Palace” was tough, although my liver thanks me, I”m quite certain about that. From the moment I landed in Corfu, it was an experience- our driver, Socrates (no joke) was a little man who had either been drinking Raki all day and night, or had about 27 espressos that morning. I had come off of a tiny airplane (40 people maybe) that had been Island hopping from Zakynthos north to get me to Corfu. I was white knuckling it the whole way- those who know me know I hate to fly… yes, I realize the irony. Anyway. After the meditation I had to do to get me through three, yes THREE “up downs” I was a bit in a daze until I stepped out into the bright sunshine of Corfu. I spotted the Pink Palace Van and made my way to the van. Socrates was no where to be found- but another traveler, Mike was there and described the crazy guy to me. I figured I’d just stay put. Eventually Socrates blasted his way out the doors of the airport and said, “You no wait for me! Let’s go!” He had picked up another traveler and herded us all into the van to go.

I was Using the phrase “Bat Shit Crazy” inaccurately before this trip…. cause the people who have driven me places are the epitome of that phrase. Socrates drove like he was in the Indy 500, being chased by cops and auditioning for a spot with the crew in Fast & The Furious. Oh, and these weren’t like straightaway highways… this was up and over a mountain pass in Corfu. The three of us kind of looked at each other all at the same time and immediately put on our seat belts,shrugged and held on for dear life.

After the debacle in Zakynthos, I was bound and determined to make this hostel experience better. The girl at the front desk was helpful and gave me a room, which after seeing, I promptly went back to the desk, paid an extra $8 per night and upgraded. The original room was dark, damp, had a flickering flourescent light, threadbare blanket and was right outside the bar. Nope. Nope. Nope. All it needed was a cockroach to crawl by and I would have started crying again. But no. I calmly went upstairs and upgraded to a super nice room that had its own bathroom and a balcony overlooking the Ionian Sea. It had three beds, so I anticipated 2 roommates, but they never came so I had my own room for 3 nights! Score!

The Pink Palace, back in its heyday apparently was a legendary party hostel. While I was there, It was pretty tame in comparison, but that didn’t stop us from having a REALLY good alcohol-fueled time. Interestingly, they also have a pretty sweet set up designed to keep you there- they include both Breakfast and Dinner in the cost of your room, and my first night at dinner, I went down by myself and left with 2 new friends. As much as I’m sure you’re interested in the details of our evening’s events I’m going to go ahead and respect everyone’s privacy and just say that we all had a REALLY, REALLY good time. We had such a good time, that when my alarm went off in the morning, I said “Ughhhhh”. Sunlight was blaring through the thin drapes, and we had made plans to do an “activity” and head into old Corfu town to wander and explore. I mean, what better to help a hangover but 95 degree heat, bright sunshine, and climbing up an old fortress in a UNESCO Heratige protected city. Three zombies and I rode the public bus into town and wandered listlessly around- the three who came along were very patient with my mom-like enthusiasm climbing up to the fortress, looking at the views of Albania from afar, and the massive yachts pulled into port below. We sat at a cafe, had lunch and got into a cab to go back to the Pink Palace where apparently I got engaged to the Greek taxi driver. I don’t quite know what happened, but I’ll send you all an invitation to the wedding if it all works out.

We met tons of new people at the bar that night and I think maybe drank them out of vodka… All i know is that when I woke up my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Two of the girls who were in the room next to me and I made it down to the beach to lay out and enjoy the Corfu sun, sand and sea. It was quite possibly the perfect day to just chill. We got up long enough to wander down to a beach bar and have some pizza and I was SO excited to get a watermelon juice (I hadn’t seen that on a menu since Thailand).

All in all, I was starting to see the light of traveling solo. I was leaving the next morning, and was so sad to leave my new friends- but I think this was the upswing I needed to get me out of the slump I had in Zakynthos. One of the girls I met even decided to take the 30 minute ferry with me to Sarande, Albania the next morning just for a day trip and spend the day at the beach! Corfu rocked my world a little bit. New friends, fun nights, lazy days… onward to Albania with a brightness in my step!

A blur of islands and amazingness

There is absolutely no way for me to describe the islands of Greece and the INCREDIBLE time I had in Santorini, Crete, Zakynthos, Corfu, and Kefalonia. I stayed in a private cave villa, a 600 year old building once used by royalty, a family run beach resort with a lot of character, an immaculate hostel in the heart of a city, a shithole hostel in a sketchy part of an island, and in a hostel painted bright pink. Each location had me nearly in tears every day from realizing how absolutely lucky I am to be alive and here. The vistas are indescribable, the people I got to be with turned my lonely days into alcohol-induced craziness that I’ll remember forever…perhaps. I visited vineyards, sailed aboard a private sailboat, took a cooking class, wrinkled my toes in pink sand, swam in crystal clear waters, cried at sunsets, sweated in the blistering heat, ate my weight in feta cheese, learned about Greek olive oil, drank too much vodka, met new friends and laughed until my sides hurt. I traveled by ferries, busses, tiny planes, and cars. I wandered through ancient ruins, hiked 16K through a majestic gorge, played card games, I walked 10K from one village to another on the edge of the caldera of a volcano. I got yelled at by a woman in Greek, and also was shown amazing hospitality.

So. This blog post will be very brief. There’s no way these experiences translate to words. So instead of writing a list of all the places we went and things we did I will, instead leave some pictures here and will likely write some feelings about things that happened in future posts.

For now, please enjoy the beauty. These are all photos taken from places I stood. Yeah, they’re real. This world is full of incredible places- Greece, I’m leaving a part of my heart behind with you.