Montenegro

"The most beautiful contact between the earth and the sea took place at the Montenegrin littoral." - Lord Byron

It is perfectly okay if you are currently Googling "Where is Montenegro?".  (I just Googled what littoral means and it has to do with the shore.)  Montenegro regained its independence from Yugoslavia just thirteen years ago.  It is just south of Croatia, and shares boarders with many countries including Bosnia and Herzegovina and Serbia.


I discovered the country in my searching, months ago, for places to visit in this area.  Photos were stunningly beautiful, but there did seem to be some concerns about stability in the country, so we opted for a day trip rather than staying overnight.  I'm confident that we only got a very general, quick glance, at the country and that there was much more to be seen, but the day trip was also the perfect taste.

Montenegro, translated from Italian, means black mountain.  The opposing mountain sides form a dramatic edge to the coastline, and it appears that nothing lives above sea level besides the pine trees that dot the mountainside.  The country is a little smaller than Connecticut, and most of the population, under 700,000 live along the coast or the magical fiord.  The mountains appear to be truly stunning, and deserve a pilgrimage of their own, but we only drove around the fiord.


Montenegro has a history, somewhat similar to Dubrovnik, yet it is not as stable as this small town.  The country, more precisely, the city of Kotor, has a wall over a thousand years old and was once controlled by the all powerful sea-faring nation of Venice.  The city, and the country, have been ruled by many different groups of people over their long history and have seen their fair share of conflict, even in recent years.  Even the vote for independence in this century was achieved by a small margin in the voting polls.  But the people are kind, proud and hard-working.


We drove along the fiord, surrounded by beautiful scenery, but Kotor was our main destination.  I was in awe by the protective wall that climbs up the rocky mountain side, and fascinated by the multi-colored stepping stones throughout the city's squares and narrow streets.  Like Dubrovnik, there are no cars inside, nor is there room for them.  Homes, churches and businesses have been built, reconstructed and added onto for centuries.  Just like Dubrovnik, streets were clean and felt safe.  But, unlike Dubrovnik, we saw a few people begging, and felt that merchants were pushier about selling their goods.  




Our personal walking tour was led by a man who let us call him Johnny, as that was the English translation of his name, and we have struggled immensely with forming the sounds that make words in Croatian (and the very similar Montenegrin).  He had grown up in the small city of Kotor, and on our walk was even able to point to his primary school window, the window of the office where he had worked for a number of years, and he even took us into the museum where his wife works.  She is in a small a cappella group that has won national recognition, so she even treated us to a song!  It was evident, in his wide grin, that he took pride in his small country, and was excited to teach us more about it.  


Our lunch consisted of prosciutto, cheese, fresh bread, grilled vegetables and something called "local meal with gnocchi" that tasted kind of like goulash.  The carrots, beef and gnocchi were divine, and the added sweetness of a few figs in the gravy, perfection.  I had to stop myself from licking the bowl.

 Kotor had one other major appeal for me.  It is known as the "City of Cats."  Now, I thought Dubrovnik was full of cats, but I was so very wrong.  You could not turn a corner in Kotor without seeing a cat.  They were not fighting, nor starving, nor begging and appeared relatively healthy.  Stores sold souvenirs adorned with all sorts of cats, and there is even a cat museum (although, when I heard there were no cats there, I decided it was not worth our time)!  The city seems to nurture and care for their cats.  Why?  Well, it appears that much of it is legend.  One man told us that the cats were said to have saved them from the plague by killing off all of the rats, so they were honored in the city.  Another idea is the domesticated connection to the Venetian symbol of a lion.  It is also said that, as a major sailing port, sailors would dock their boats and the cats on board, from all over the world, would set up a new home in the city, which is why it is believed that the cat population is very diverse.  As the city is up against a mountain, there is no doubt that the city could have been overrun by snakes, rats and mice, if it were not for the prolific cat population.  No matter the reason for it, I appreciated the appreciation of cats!  (Feel free to read up on the topic Cats of Kotor)




What I enjoyed even more than the cats of Kotor, was spending time with our driver for the day, Petar.  I had found him through the wonderfully knowledgeable Rick Steves, and we were in no way disappointed.  (You can find him at www.dubrovnikrivieratours.com.)  Petar was very professional, very friendly, open, and knowledgable.  I think what I enjoyed most from him was his candid picture of politics in the area and first-hand experiences that he was open and willing to share.

He talked about how good life is in Croatia.  Sure, taxes are high, but there are a lot of benefits to those taxes, including universal health care.  People feel safe here.  Despite the fact that I seen less than a handful of police officers, I have felt entirely safe and Petar said that people leave their homes and cars unlocked.  The streets are clean and we have encountered not a single person begging, or appearing to be homeless in the Old Town of Dubrovnik.  Petar gave a good, strong reason for this, that went along with our experience in the countryside yesterday.  He said you don't see that in the whole country because family is so strong, and holds such importance.  No one will be homeless, because their family will support them.  He said this with pride, but also conceded that in a way, he felt there was a generation of lazy people out there, knowing that mama would also look after them.

Petar had first hand experience from the war in the late 20th century.  He was a refugee, just as others we have met here were also.  He and his family lived just south of the city in an area that was invaded by the Serbian and Montenegrin armies.  His family home that his father built was raided, lived in and used by the enemy.  The family fled to the Old Town where they stayed in hotels, since they were government owned.  Then, when the hotel was bombed and destroyed, they ended up living in a monastery and he missed most of fifth grade.  My vocabulary is not extensive enough to describe the feelings I have speaking to people, close to my age, who look seemingly similar to myself who have gone through such atrocities.  This happened in my lifetime, in a community that seems not all too different from my own.  The weight of this knowledge is heavy.  I feel ignorant and unjustly fortunate.  (He said there was a great documentary called Two Hours from London that I hope to find and watch soon!)

Petar's knowledge of the history of the area was extensive and fresh.  He also told us that Croatians didn't worry with being politically correct, but were instead politically direct.  It was with this knowledge that I enjoyed Petar even more, and also with a listening ear that knew I was listening to someone with strong opinions.  Croatia has a very interesting shape, somewhat like a golf club in an upside-down, backwards sort of way.  Croatia is in charge of much of the coastline, but in some areas, it is less than a mile wide, while the northern part is wide and extends inland a good deal.  It seems this country, for centuries past has been trapped between the East and the West, Islam and Christianity, Russia and Western Europe.  At one time, the Croatians ran from the Turkish Empire, running toward the Adriatic coastline, forming the long skinny handle of the golf club.  It seems that Christopher Columbus is actually to blame for the fall in power of the area.  Remember that the area thrived in the 15th and 16th century as a trading mecca?  Well, that was because it was between the East and the West.  But, then the West started trading with the Americas, taking the wealth away from this area.  Thanks, Columbus.

Petar talked a lot about how many Croatians were living elsewhere in the world.  As conflicts grew, Croatians fled, but took with them their strong pride in country.  Petar said there are now more Croatians living outside of Croatia as there are inside the country.  He said that these people were the countries' biggest allies and assets.  It was these groups of people who lobbied their own, new homeland governments to pass legislation that supported Croatian independence.

Our day to Montenegro was crowded with rain and clouds, but it did not dampen our spirits.  As such, though, Petar decided that instead of seeing the resort town in Montenegro, we might instead enjoy a panoramic view of Dubrovnik, and oh, how right he was!  Despite the lack of blue skies, the overview of this Old Town is stunning, and I am quite certain I enjoyed that more than I would have enjoyed wandering the resort town on the coast.


I have some good news for you.  I hope you've been intrigued by this part of the world and your desire to visit it has piqued.  It was quite complicated and difficult to get to, as there are no direct flights from the US to this part of the world, but knowledgable Petar said that in a week, a direct flight from Philadelphia is supposed to open!  Go ahead, book your flight and pack your back, and perhaps even plan a day trip to the beautiful Montenegro!

The City Walls and an Escape

We decided it was time to walk the walls.  No, it is not a reference to your favorite pirate movie or a punishment at recess, but rather, the thing to do here in Dubrovnik.  The fortified walls that have stood here for hundreds of years are just over a mile long and are plenty wide for you to walk along.  It is one of the city's biggest attractions, and as such, you can't just come and go as you please, but rather you must purchase a ticket and enter the walls in only one of two designated areas, and then wander with the masses in a one way direction.  That makes it sound miserable.  It is not at all, it is truly spectacular, worth every penny, every bead of sweat and every ache in your calf.  I just don't want you getting a romanticized idea of visiting Dubrovnik and wandering up to the wall for a moment here or there to see something special, or early one morning, then as the sun sets another day.



So, it's a little over a mile long, right?  Even at my slowest pace, I should be done in a half hour, right?  Strike that.  I may have actually completed my most recent half marathon in a faster time than we walked the wall.  How in heavens name could you possibly take that long to walk a mile?  Well, you've seen my photos of this town.  It is anything but flat.  That means the wall goes up and down (although what feels like mostly up) just as the landscape does.  Also, if you've been around me much, you know I take about a gazillion (actual number, and not an exaggeration) photos.  Plus, there's the stopping to look for key points along the wall, spotting cats, listening in to identify the song you hear a distant choir singing ("Bridge over Troubled Water"), searching around the tower for Khalessi, taking photos for strangers, posing for photos, waiting for crowds to pass and taking water breaks.

The wall was truly a highlight, with its irresistible views of the city, and true feelings of awe felt at every twist and turn as we continued to gawk at the enormity of this creation.

For the evening, we once again got to spend a wonderful night with Ana at Dubrovnik Food Story!  I had booked two different tours through Trip Advisor and did not realize at the time that they were both through the same small organization, but I was so glad that I did!  It was a treat to be with Ana once again, and she had done such an incredible job leading our tour a few days before that I was immediately at ease that today would also be enjoyable, and it was!  (Not only because there was a kitten there!)

Our tour was for a cooking class at a family villa out in the country.  That was truly about all that I knew, but all of that sounded good to us!  We were picked up in the city with another family of three and three couples and driven about a half hour into the countryside.  If you had blindfolded me and dropped me in the backyard, then asked me where I was, I would have guessed Tuscany.  The rocky hillsides, fertile valleys, "wine trees," olive trees, stunning villas and tall narrow cypress trees made me feel transported into the familiar Italy.  And if that didn't remind me enough, the amount of alcohol we consumed, the large, tight-knit family, and the large kitchen that smelled divine were just enough to tip the scale in that direction.

Ivo was our host for the evening, a large, boisterous, man with olive skin who loved to tell stories, in particular about the family he was so proud of.  He is the middle of three brothers who live in the home where they grew up with their mother (who still cooks dinner each night), their wives and the ten children amongst them.  Their family was given the land hundreds of years ago by the government and has worked it ever since.  He said several times, "this is our piece of the world."  The land is passed down through male heirs, and he had the family tree to show just how far back!  While their acreage is rather small compared to what I might imagine for a working farm, they make their own wine and olive oil as well as grow crops for their family to eat.  They all have office jobs in the city, and then come home each evening to host a group, like us.


We started the evening with some grappa and dried fruit and learning a bit about Ivo's family and their history.  Then, the women kneaded dough while the men learned how to cut and divide up whole chickens (don't worry, they had been plucked and extremities had already been removed!).  Next, we moved to the garden where we picked a few things from the beautiful, well-lined garden rows and sampled fruit fresh off of the tree branches.  While gathering eggs from the hen house, a three week old solid black kitten wandered up.  She had apparently been abandoned by her mother, and Ivo's youngest daughter had been looking after her.  But, in a country where there are virtually no predators, not even hawks, the kitten freely roamed around.  Well, not after I found her!  She was not much help in the cherry seed spitting contest, but otherwise, I'd say the black kitten only brought good fortune.


We went back to the kitchen and cut up vegetables and prepared a sponge cake, then watched as the skilled matriarch carefully and effortlessly began to combine all of our prepared ingredients.  While it was cooking, we went down the hill to Ivo's cousin's house where I got to cuddle with a baby rabbit.  I'm quite confident that was not our main purpose there, but when one is given an opportunity to cuddle something small and fluffy, one should not give up that opportunity!  She had goats that we milked to add to coffee later, and provided us with some freshly made goat's milk cheese.












Just as at any good party, the crowd gathers in the kitchen.  When we returned, we all gathered into the expansive kitchen with beautiful stone fireplace that would have cooked enough meat for all of Dubrovnik.  We had the freshly cooked bread we had baked, fresh goat cheese, proscuitto, bites of fresh fruit and fresh vegetables from the garden, and of course another glass of wine before Ivo told us more of his wonderfully energetic and enterprising family.


Our meal that evening was around a large table where the thirteen of us could sit and enjoy an exquisite meal that we played a small role in preparing!  We had flavorful chicken soup with soft bread, a fresh, simple salad from the garden and tender chicken in a rich, flavorful gravy with a side of polenta.  To finish, we had freshly brewed mint (from the garden) tea and sponge cake.  The food was delectable, but what I enjoyed just as much was the company.  

I urge you, when you travel, to sign up for small tours or classes, because you'll get to meet fellow travelers, and this is truly a gift.  The group was mostly American, or married to an American, but from all over the country and in different phases of life.  What a joy to share a meal with complete strangers in a foreign country!

Sea Breezes

Dubrovnik is a coastal town, and Croatia itself has over one thousand islands to explore. Coming here, I knew that getting out on the water was something I really wanted to do. I think I had this romantic image of a sailboat on the seas with us jumping into the refreshing water to escape from the sun’s rays. Booking that dream, for the three of us, without costing an arm and a leg proved a bit more difficult, but we found something almost equally as charming.

Weeks ago, I found a company, Dubrovnik Explore, that offered half and full day excursions with a skipper on a small boat around some of the islands. We all leaped at the opportunity, but paid nothing in advance in case the weather was bad. Turns out, it has been the wettest May here anyone can remember. 

The closer we got to time, the more anxious my parents got. Their picture of a day out at sea was an image far different than my romanticized one. They pictured a ski boat, bounding over waves taller than the boat, all of us swallowing as much Dramamine as we could find. But, after getting a look at the water yesterday, they were less anxious and agreed to give it a go. I’m so glad we did!

Leo, an adorable university student at the maritime university picked us up at the Old Port promptly at nine after shining the boat. I know little about boats, but this is generally what I would consider a nice ski boat. There was a tiny berth we could have escaped into had the weather gotten bad, a captain and first mates chair along with a bench on the flattened back half of the boat, with a large cushion over the front perfect for lounging in. The weather was not perfect today, but it did not rain! Those of you reading in Alabama, I wish I could blow some of the cool air your way! While it felt plenty warm today, probabaly low 70s, the breeze felt as though it was coming off of snow covered mountains. So, with mostly cloud cover today, I spent much of my time with “chicken skin” as my father calls it. But, no matter what, it was a perfectly glorious day.

My parents had pictured hundreds of boats, like Lake Martin on the 4th of July. It was in fact like visiting the lake on a Tuesday. We were not the only boats on the water, but they were few and far between. And the sea water was almost as smooth as glass and a beautifully clear, turquoise color.

Leo drove us around the city walls, gave us a little bit of history, and then guided us out to three large nearby islands, Kolocep, Lopud and Sipan. These are all part of the Elafite Islands and have been inhabited for centuries. Each island, though large and expansive, was mostly uninhabited (possibly uninhabitable) land, so one or two small port towns were hosts to each island’s two hundred or so residents. One island is where Dubrovnik gets 80% of its olive oil. We were glad we got off the boat and wandered a bit on this island as it was contrastingly different on the exterior and the interior. The outskirts of each island were rocky and dotted with trees that somehow found ways to grow, but just a few hundred meters from the coast, we found a fertile valley with beautifully cultivated farm land. And yes, of course, we tasted and purchased some of the olive oil.

We had a delightful lunch on another island, wandered along the boardwalk, into a small botanical garden and into shops reminiscent of beach shops back home. There were several beaches along the way, but not only are we southerners incredibly spoiled by the sugar white expanses of our beaches, but remember how I said I had chill bumps much of the day? Catching the cool breezes on the boat didn’t seem nearly as inviting if I had been soaking wet. Did we swim in the Adriatic? Not yet. Am I a tad disappointed in myself? Yes. Am I comfortably warm? Yes!

Toward the end of our day, Leo, who reminded me with his young, innocent face and Adriatic-Sea-accent, of Massimo from The Wedding Planner, anchored the boat in a calm harbor. It was here we enjoyed a glass of wine, a bit of warm sunshine and conversations with our gracious host. If you travel without talking, really talking, to a local, you miss out. We asked about schooling, what his family did, how the war had affected he and his family, politics, and so much more. As I found in England, I’m so impressed that students start their course of study in high school, so they spend years learning their craft. He wants to captain large ships, and so went to a maritime high school, and is now nearly finished with his five years at a maritime university.

I’m not sure if our day out at sea was exactly what any of us had pictured, but it was absolutely perfect for the three of us, and I’m very thankful we chose to spend our day that way!

As a side note, I must also mention our incredibly delicious dinner at Stara Loza, just a few blocks away. Ana had recommended it, and once again, she did not disappoint. Mom had a local tuna steak, Dad a veal shank that fell off the bone, and I couldn’t help but order the veal risotto that came with “Parmesan ice cream.” I’m so very thankful for all of the translations of English and the plethora of people that speak our language. The small translation miscues make me smile and help me appreciate the whole experience. Like when our waiter told us about the 250 year old “wine tree” that grew alongside the building. Hoping that you all find plenty of wine trees wherever you go, and cool sea breezes!

Food, glorious food!

People have been living in what is now Dubrovnik for centuries.  It thrived in the 15th and 16th centuries when it was a trading town that remained independent of all powerful nations nearby, working with those empires rather than against them.  Libertas, the "battle cry" of the people of this town, a motto of the country means freedom of mind, body and trading.  In fact, Dubrovnik did away with slavery in the 14th century, hundreds of years before England and America.  The city itself has has dealt with catastrophic earthquakes (that caused fires, tsunamis and floods) as well as, even in very recent years, wars and sieges that destroyed much of the town.  Throughout the city, if you look closely enough, you can see roof tiles that are pristine, uniformly shaped and perfectly colored, contrasted with ones that were once formed on ladies' thighs and put into place years and years ago.  You'll see stone that is crisp and white alongside ones that are yellowed, or even charred.  Some of these buildings have been here for centuries.  Some were destroyed in the devastating quake of 1667.  Some others were destroyed in the early 1990s when Croatia was attacked by Serbia and Montenegro.  But no matter how old the individual structures, the ancient walls of the town remain.

The city walls of this town are a little over a mile to walk around, so you can imagine how small the interior of the city is.  Streets, aside from the main Stradun are about the width of me if I spread my arms out to touch the stone facades fingertip to fingertip.  Cars are not allowed in the city, because well, where would they even go?  We walked around the interior of the city today, meandering up and down narrow streets, enjoying the idea that you can't really get lost as long as you stay on the inside of the wall.  In a short amount of time, we saw much of the city.  I understand why people believe they can see it in a day, but I'm so looking forward to taking our time to find our favorite restaurants, shops, and choose museums and churches that we really want to spend time at.

On our meander today, Dad darted into a hole in the wall, and we decided to follow him.  Thankfully, we did, because we found, clinging to the outside of the wall, a lovely sitting area and bar overlooking the bay and the Adriadic Sea.  We are on vacation, so yes, of course, we paused to stop and enjoy the warm sunshine and a cold beverage.

We had booked a walking food tour for the afternoon, and I couldn't be happier with it!  Ana and her sister started a small tour company a few years ago.  They had both been involved in the tour industry, but weren't thrilled with the large group settings they often encountered.  Both being local girls, they wanted an intimate way to get to know travelers, and share their love for their country.  Check out https://dubrovnikfoodstory.com/ if you are headed this way!  Unknowingly, we had already booked a different type of tour with their same company this coming Sunday, and are thrilled that we may get to spend Sunday afternoon with Ana!

We met Ana at the large fountain near the main gate in town where she started our tour off by giving us a bit of history of the city telling us about its foundation, the classes of people who have lived here and some of the destruction that had occurred over the centuries.  Five lovely ladies from Canada completed our group, in every sense of the word.  The eight of us got along splendidly and Ana became accustomed to saying, "Alright, ladies, and Steve...".

I was thrilled that we had slept late, meaning we had a late breakfast and skipped lunch, because we ate our way through Dubrovnik this afternoon!  Thankfully, the portions at each restaurant were on the small size, meaning that while I was very full and satisfied, I could still fit down the narrow streets when we completed our tour.  I believe the first restaurant was my favorite, Moskar, and I hope that we will go back again this week.  In total, with the indoor and outdoor seating, I believe it held about twenty people.  For me, this means it must be special.  We had a small sandwich that Ana referred to as the "grandmother to pizza" which consisted of bread, tomatoes and salted fish.  The Dalmatian pasticada with gnocchi was truly divine.  A meal she said was often reserved for weddings, or other big celebrations because it took days to marinate and cook, tasted like it should be its own celebration.  The beef, after marinating for days fell apart and melted in your mouth with the light gravy drizzled upon it.  The gnocchi simply seemed like a soaking tool to for the remains of the perfect gravy and small bits of shaved cheese on top.

Marco Polo, the restaurant, not the game, was our second stop.  Surrounded by sea, this small city, of course is known for its seafood.  Here, we were served a small sampler with a local oyster, salted anchovies, fresh anchovies and smoked tuna, also known as tuna prosciutto.  I'm not really a fan of oysters, and while I thought the fresh sardines would bother me, I actually enjoyed the fresh ones more than the smoked ones.  And of course, the smoked tuna on a piece of a French baguette was near perfection.

Thankfully, we had to climb the Jesuit Stairs, designed with the Spanish Steps in Rome in mind, to get to our next destination to work off some of courses we had already devoured.  Kopun served us another beautiful sampler of items that I probably would not have chosen on my own.  There was something called a rooster salad, that while fresh, delightful and refreshing with cucumbers, tomatoes and strawberries, was not anything like what we southerners would call a chicken salad.  There was rooster pate, which surprisingly may have been my favorite.  A bright orange, creamy shrimp pate which I mistook for hummus when it was placed before me was next in the platter.  Tuna tartar, peppers and puree carrots and deer salami rounded out the other, perfectly proportions scoops of food.  I believe that was my first deer salami, and well, has anyone ever had bad salami?  I have not and this one did not break that record.

At the first three places on our tour, we had lovely glasses of red wines.  Croatia is known for its wine, but we don't know about it because only 5% of the wine that is produced here is exported.  Obviously, that means we must drink a lot while we are here to taste the variety!  There are grapes and wine varieties here I have never heard of, such as plavac mali, perhaps my favorite of the day.  Also, we learned the zinfandel grape first originated from this area.  At our final stop, for dessert, we instead had local liqueur.  Honey liqueur was on the menu, and if you know me well, you know that could be my middle name.  So, honey liquor it was.  I'm thankful I was not given the bottle, because as opposed to the plum and walnut liqueur we also sampled, the alcohol flavor had seemingly disappeared and it tasted as if sipping straight honey.

Our final stop was Pupica Patisserie where their cakes are made daily by a local woman who makes them in her home.  The three of us got different cakes, so I got to sample the traditional local carrot cake, a traditional orange and almond wedding cake and a scrumptiously rich chocolate cake.

By the end of our tour, we were making jokes with our new Canadian friends, having friendly banters with Ana and sharing travel stories in our small group.  I'm so very thankful that we found this experience and that we took advantage of it.  Not only was it a wonderful way to learn more about the city, but also to taste foods I would not have tried without a guide, and to get to interact with other travelers from other places.  

Traveling has a beautiful way of somehow making the world seem larger, and smaller at the same time.

Travel Day

Almost 24 hours after we left home, we arrived in the beautiful city of Dubrovnik, and have already been in awe by this ancient city of wonder.  I'm eager to explore it more and get to know the quiet, narrow streets!

Thankfully, our travel day went off with barely a glitch.  We had a bit of trouble parking outside the Atlanta airport, but any of you who have interacted with Atlanta, or the airport know that a bit of trouble there is something to expect.

This part of the world had deemed a little challenging to get to, so we flew from Atlanta to Istanbul, several hundred miles east of here.  I must admit that Turkish airlines was an absolute treat.  There was a bit more leg room than I am accustomed to, the food, by airplane standards was delicious, and the large personal screen was filled with a variety of entertainment options.  The flight was around eleven hours long, but thankfully, since we left at night, most of us were able to at least sleep our way through part of the flight.

As we understand it, the airport where we had a short layover in Istanbul is a brand new airport.  We were a bit anxious as we had heard how large it was and that making your flight could be a nightmare type situation.  While the airport was large, it was absolutely incredible.  Signs were easy to follow, and we had ample amount of time to catch our short flight to Dubrovnik, but we were all in constant awe of the shops, restaurants, stylish waiting areas, wide walkways, and intricate high ceilings.

The flight to Dubrovnik was less than two hours, and as such, we were often at a low enough altitude to take in the surrounding scenery, which did not disappoint.  Leaving Istanbul, I was most impressed with the rural country side, dotted with small communities, all of which, no matter their size, had a stunning white mosque with a large dome and tall tower.  We are accustomed to seeing church steeples in communities we drive through, but these incredible structures were a marvel to see, especially in some towns that appeared very small.

The landscape changed drastically as we flew over, from what looked like almost rolling deserts to snow covered mountain peaks, and then to rocky mountains with just speckles of trees on them before seeing the Adriatic Sea.  We flew over the town of Kotor, Montenegro which we will visit in a few days.  It was easily distinguishable thanks to its location on an inlet of water.  The pilot, who possibly is instructed to do this for the tourists, flew past the city of Dubrovnik, then circled around so that both sides of the plane could see the walled city, before landing about twenty miles south of the city in a small, friendly airport at sunset that was such a welcome site for we weary travelers.






 The weather was crisp, and invited us for a short stroll down the steps of the city along the main drag which was still crowded with people dining or enjoying glasses of wine.  The main pull for us choosing this particular Air B&B was the balcony, and well, despite the climb, it is worth it!  I sit here now typing this while watching sparrows dart about, listening to bells chime the hour and half hour and looking over a stunning variety of rooftops that somehow piece together.

Where are you going?

Over the years, my friends, family and colleagues have changed their summertime question to me of rather than “What are you doing this summer?” or “Are you traveling anywhere this summer?” to “Where are you going this summer?" As assuredly as kids get antsy in May, Rebecca will be traveling come summer.

This summer, I was absolutely thrilled that my parents wanted to take a trip with me!  We haven't really traveled together in several years, and so the opportunity to spend time together and share in experiencing a new place together is a thrill.  The next big question was... where do we go?

Answering this question was more challenging than we first thought it might be.  As for myself, I am trying to reach a goal of seeing 50 states and 50 countries by the time I turn 50, so I wanted to go some place new rather than returning to the familiar.  While I am very proud of my parents, pretty much agreeing to go anywhere, I knew that their adventurous spirit was not quite to the level of mine, and so I knew that we would need to go to a place where the culture was unique and unlike our own, but not so drastically different than what we are accustomed to.  Mom also gets hot terribly easily, and Dad doesn't do well in extreme cold.  These weather restrictions, gave us certain latitudes to look at.  Browsing through Lonely Planet's Where to Go When, I landed on what seemed like the perfect fit for us: Slovenia.

When I excitedly announced to my parents that I had decided on the perfect place, their first response was, "Ok.  Now where is Slovenia?"  The more we read, and the more photos we looked at, it truly seemed like the right fit for us.  And so, we expanded our trip from this initial choosing. 

We are headed first to Croatia.  Technically, it is not a new country for me.  About six years ago, I taught for the year in England at a middle school.  The principal there had entered and won a contest through Monarch Air that took about 200 students and faculty members to Dubrovnik for a day.  For someone who plans field trips for 100 fourth graders to travel two hours away, I still can't fathom how we took that many children on an international day trip.  But, it was a magical day, and I'm thrilled to go back to the city and spend more than a few hours there.  And yes, of course, I'm eager to walk the streets of King's Landing, but hopefully there will not be someone with a bell following me!

We'll day trip to Montenegro, and move up the country to a couple of other cities before going into Slovenia.  Jessica, my travel buddy and fellow teacher from Denver, will join us toward the end of our stay in Slovenia and then the four of us will drive to Hungary together.  My parents will fly home and then Jessica and I will set out on a road trip through Austria, Poland, Slovakia and Romania.

We fly out this evening, in just a few short hours, and in a way, I'm more at ease than I often am before I head out.  Part of that may be that my parents are with me, and so there are not difficult goodbyes to be said (although saying goodbye to the four-legged Lizzie is never easy), and also that I know that my parents have always watched over me, taken care of me, and I know they'll be there alongside me to once again do that.  There is part of me, though, who is more anxious than usual.  I've planned most of this trip, which I love doing, but I would hate to have chosen the wrong thing or for things to not be as perfect as I want them to be.  Would my parents complain?  Absolutely not, that is not them, but I still want it all to go smoothly and be all that we have hoped for.  I believe all three of us are a bit anxious about spending several weeks together.  We have an incredible relationship, and I realize just how rare that can be and how fortunate I am.  We are truly a three.  We are each other's biggest cheer-leaders, best friends, confidants, and sometimes the ones who push each other when we need to be shoved just a bit.  But, as family, we also feel comfortable to speak our minds, knowing that we will always forgive one another.  And well, let's face it, what family wouldn't be a bit anxious to be together for three weeks solid?  Am I anxious?  A little.  Am I fearful?  Not at all.  Do I believe that we'll make memories a lifetime together?  Absolutely.

Let the next great adventure begin!

McAllen

Imagine being so fearful for your life and the lives of your loved ones that you leave all that you've ever known to travel hundreds of thousands of miles by foot and hitchhiking to go a place you've never been to without a cent to your name and without even knowing the language.  Imagine doing this with your toddlers.  Imagine doing this with your aging parents.  The idea seems foreign and beyond belief, and yet many people are doing this on a daily basis.

"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it." - Hebrews 13:2

This summer, I, alongside much of the nation, was appalled at what we were seeing on the news about parents and children being separated and detained upon arrival to the US. In this first-world country, how is anything as horribly inhumane even imaginable. My dear, take-action friends, Mollie and Rachel, decided to do something. They decided to take action and visit McAllen, Texas, one of the epicenters of immigration into the US. I was in awe of their tales, so when the opportunity came to accompany Rachel to McAllen, I jumped at it.

I will tell you what I understand, what has been pieced together from what others know. People, primarily young families from  Central America, are traveling by foot, and whatever means possible to get to the border in McAllen (and many other legal border crossings). People crossing in these legal places are immediately taken to a detention center where they are “processed” by ICE. ICE will sometimes reject immigrants, turning them away immediately, sometimes sending them to a long-term detention center, or sending them on through. Some of the people coming into the country are given ankle bracelets, but sometimes the government runs out, or for whatever reason, some people are not given one.

In order for ICE to allow a person into the US at the border, that person must have a sponsor in the United States (typically a family member), who answers the phone when ICE calls and agrees to purchase a bus ticket for the refugee. Then, ICE, who has a working relationship with the Catholic Respite Center, will alert CRC as to how many people can be expected that day. Those people are put on a bus to go the ten miles into town where a volunteer meets them at the bus station and walks them to the Center.

Once inside the Center, people are given a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup, water and tortillas. They are given the opportunity to shower and to see a nurse if necessary. A clothes room helps people to obtain a change of clothes, then, they wait. Several paid staff and interns work with each family to call the sponsor and arrange bus tickets. Each family is given an envelope with their bus itinerary clearly stated and a sign that says “Please help me, I do not speak English.” Then, when it is time for their bus (which may not be for a day or two), they are given a bag of snacks and they are escorted back to the bus station by a volunteer. Here, they depart to whatever corner of the US they are headed to.

The Catholic Respite Center is doing this for three and four hundred people A DAY. While it is an amazingly well-oiled machine, operating in an organized chaos sort of fashion, it is not set up for this influx of people. Nor is it a facility with beds or cots, so people that are staying there for twenty-four hours or more are sleeping in blue plastic chairs or on mats on the floor.

That’s what I understand of the process, but now, I want to tell you about my experience there, a touching experience I hope to repeat. My emotions before the trip varied from pure excitement to anxious worry. I trust Rachel with my whole heart, and although I knew really very little when I said “yes” to the trip, I knew all would be okay. That’s not what I was anxious about. It was more the worry of would I fail, or would I make a situation worse? I speak no Spanish, will I be in the way? What if I unknowingly make one of the refugees feel uncomfortable or unwelcome?

On Saturday, we walked into the Center, thankfully following Rachel who had been there before. No where did we sign in, nor make our presence known. Megan, a regular volunteer, showed us where the washer and dryers were in the shower trailer out back. Several times on the first day, I could be found in that small closet washing, drying and folding clean towels. It was while in this small closet, I had one of my first interactions with a refugee. A young girl of six or seven, had just gotten out of the shower. I expected her to be apprehensive or even fearful of people as I can only imagine I would have been had I been through what she had been through, and yet, she looked at me with one of the brightest, widest smiles I have ever seen and waved to me. What sweet, precious innocence. 

There were times we swept and mopped throughout our stay, because when there are that many people coming and going in a rather small space, well, it gets dirty. We made ham and cheese sandwiches until the fridge was completely stuffed with them, well over 200, but we did this each day.

I worked with some local middle school students in need of volunteer hours to work to stuff snack bags with bottles of water, crackers, pretzels, goldfish and granola bars. Some of the group helped to ladle soup and serve it for lunch. I must admit that I was eager to work, and truly interact with the refugees, but all of this needed to be done and my time was yet to come.

Saturday afternoon, I ended up in the clothes closet, and it was this work, that for some reason, I enjoyed the most. A couple of refugees would come into the room, about the size of a small bedroom, and here a volunteer would equip them with essential clothing items. Sure, knowing Spanish would have been helpful, but I could easily tell their sizes by looking at them, and their pleasure or sometimes displeasure at my choices based on their facial reactions. Each person got a shirt, underwear and socks. If their pants were in bad shape, they also got a pair of pants.

Even in the clothes room, there were heartbreaking moments. Like when we had to cut someone’s pants to help her get them over her ankle bracelet, or find short socks to fit underneath the horrid device. Or when we realized that absolutely no one had shoelaces because ICE had confiscated them to prevent them from running away. Or when we noticed the women and girls had used small pieces of the metallic emergency blankets from the detention center to tie up their hair. Or when I helped a pregnant woman to find shoes to fit around her tired, swollen feet. Or even those moments when sadness overwhelmed me, and I realized that the only thing these people had was the family around them and the clothes on their back.

But the moments I relished were the smiles, that universal language. I loved the smiles of the adults when I chose the “perfecto” top. The laughter when I held up a clothing item that was obviously way too large. The passing out of hair bands to women and girls who were thrilled for this simple, tiny bit of femininity. I even enjoyed the picky teenagers who, with a smirk on their faces, turned down choice after choice of clothing options. I took children one at a time into the “shoe closet” where we would dig for shoes of the right size, then they’d put their well-traveled foot up on my knee as I fitted the new shoes, tying them up and being rewarded with beautiful white smiles framed by sun kissed skin. My favorite moment came when a young girl, of two or three, was upset, fussing with tears streaming down her face, and all it took to change her expression to a toothy grin was a sparkly bow for her hair. 

I spent many of my hours in the clothes closet sorting new items and outfitting people. We also spent hours in the supply closet sorting new donation items and making hygiene kits.

We also spent hours outside of the center, shopping for items. McAllen was having a cold spell when we arrived, and so we went to search for items rarely needed here like hats and gloves. Even though we bought well over 100 of each, I’m guessing that as I write this, those have already been distributed to chilly migrants, including the young girl whom I helped put gloves on. Her awe with them was mesmerizing and joyful, as she has probably never experienced chill nor the need for such an item. She was unsure of how to get them on, and kept getting multiple fingers into the same spot. Once they adorned her hands, she giggled as she clapped her hands back and forth, amazed by the nuance of a pink and white stripped glove.

There were lots of volunteers who came and went over our time there, volunteers of all ages. There were young ones there in need of hours for classes and regular volunteers who thankfully knew how things should go and helped to guide us. I don’t know how the regular volunteers do this work, day after day. I was so emotionally and physically exhausted each evening, and yet, their large hearts continuously poured out daily: coordinating dinners, cleaning the bathrooms, arranging donations, and being surrounded by heartbreaking tales daily. But some of the people we enjoyed the most were the nuns. These lovely, humble, generous, funny older women were an absolute delight to be around. Their lives have been devoted to service of all kinds, including acting as a nurse in prison, high school drama teachers, immigration lawyers, and everything in between. On Sunday, I wore my “In Pursuit of Happiness” shirt, and so even after Sister Nancy learned my name, she called me “happiness.” There was the Sister who talked of protests at the border and her dislike of the current administration. There was Sister Pat, who well into her 70s, continuously stepped into the tall trash can to pack down the garbage and who joked with the young volunteer coordinator about how he looked familiar after she explained that she had worked in a prison in Key West.

Some of the other people that I worked side by side with, whom I assumed were volunteers, were in fact immigrants who had been at the Center for an extended period of time, and showing their gratitude jumped right in to help in any way that they could.

Each day, whether at lunch or in the evenings, we struggled to leave. It wasn’t because someone was pulling on us nor that a coordinator had asked us to stay, but simply because we felt our work was unfinished. No one likes to leave a project undone, and looking at the dozens upon dozens of people that remained in the Center each evening, it was hard to simply walk out. I can only imagine the true exhaustion of the volunteers that are there day in and day out. Their job is truly never complete. There were lulls, and slower times, but there was always someone in need, and always someone new arriving. The work they are doing, the good deeds and generosity being shared continuously is never ending.

Today, in our final hours at the Respite Center, I walked a group to the bus station. I waited in line with a young mother, holding her bag for her as she cradled her year old son. He was sick, and no doubt at the point beyond exhaustion, yet as his eyes closed, he would not let the pink rubber ball slip from his hands, trying with every fiber of his being to stay awake and ensure the new toy stayed in his possession. Sleep finally did win, and I placed the ball into his mother’s red bag, a reusable grocery bag, something smaller than my carry-on for this weekend away. My eyes filled with tears realizing the horrors, the treachery, and the many miles that this young mother, in fact all of these families went through to get their children to this country.

I don’t know how or why I was so lucky that my spirit was born into a loving family, in a safe environment with abounding opportunities around me, but I hope that I will forever be grateful. And I hope that I can share that message with my students, and the generations that will follow me. Maybe one day, with thoughtful, bright, grateful, humble people leading our world, people will no longer go through these hardships.

How can you help? In so many ways! Of course the problem is a deep-rooted, systemic one that is in great need of change, so be an activist and speak up for those that may not have a voice. Perhaps one day, we can live in a world with no borders, or at least in a country that has a direct, manageable path to citizenship. The Catholic Respite Center could certainly use your donations! Financial donations are crucial, but so are the so many other things they pass out on a daily basis (remember 300-400 people daily). Things we noticed were in great need were: deodorant, shoelaces, belts, hats, gloves, jackets, men’s and women’s underwear, and clothes for young children. Used clothes are a wonderful donation, but please no tank tops, dresses, skirts or pajamas. Remember that the items these people are receiving are their only items, so they should be practical. You can ship the items there on your own, or through Amazon. And you can go and volunteer! They need people for all sorts of jobs, and as long as you are willing to jump right in, you’ll be helping!

Donate to the Catholic Respite Center

The Humanitarian Respite Center

1721 Beaumont Ave

McAllen, TX 78501

But mostly what you can do is love. Love freely. Love those that are different from you. Love those that come from different places than you do. Love your neighbor, and welcome him with open arms, remembering we are all God’s children, and we are all immigrants.