I met some guys from Serbia who translated some Serbian Folk music for me. "This whiskey is twice as old as you are, but I am rich, so let's go upstairs and fuck." Apparently they refer to people who listen to it "hillbillies". We shared our favourite English words after noting that in order to make the perfect vodka and juice concoction in the future (it's an art after-all) we would need to "chisel" the ice into semi-circles. No cubes allowed. We spent about 30 minutes of them trying to figure out the right Serbian word for chisel. I wish I was better with languages.
1/4/17
Before heading to the airport my taxi driver took me on a tour of the city. He compared Montenegro to one of the many rivers that runs through it. Small, beautiful, diverse, undiscovered and under appreciated. I couldn't agree more. Why am I leaving?
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I spent the night talking philosophy with a 62 year old New Yorker and a 41 year old Greek:
We all have our own perceptions which create our own reality. Therefore there can be no universal truth. Our beliefs consist of that which we cannot prove.
I was asked if I plan to move every 2 years. I couldn't answer, but when I asked this man what his plan was he said, "The plan was to leave and not go back. So far I've been very successful." Maybe I should come up with a plan I can't fail at, like" I'm going to eat everyday." Coming up with a fail proof plan is harder than it seems.
2/4/17
I should be trying harder to have more experiences, but I still feel so damn tired.
3/4/17
I am being the ultimate lazy traveler. All I've really done is walked around the city and eat food. I don't want to plan, and if I would have had a plan I could be hiking a damn mountain. I'm feeling regretful, but I know from experience that this regret will get me nowhere.
4/4/17
One of the sweetest things is when I meet a couple sleeping in a dorm room, and the first thing in the morning one of them moves to the top or bottom bunk to cuddle with the other.
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*Cultural experience*
An old greek man helped me to cross the street. He attempted to speak German to me. We smiled and laughed, and waited for traffic to clear, and ran across the road together. Even though I didn't need his help I thanked him and smiled and continued along my way.
At the train station I grab a cafe freddo and spinach pie. The owner of the cafe comes up and asks me if I am going to Athens. No I say, I am going to Kalambaka. He smiles and applauds me, happy I'm seeing something other than the acropolis. Then he grabs my hand, kisses it, ruffles my hair and says goodbye. I feel as though I am his granddaughter due to his pride and affection.
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"Don't take the train." they said. "It's too slow, and involves complicated station changes. Why would you want to? The bus is faster. Besides its not a real train, it's a Balkan train." They told me.
"What other kind are there?" I replied with a huge grin on my face.
As long as there are trains to take, I will be taking them, and as long as there are streets and trails to walk I will be walking them.
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