I can distinctly remember a moment 15 years ago when a friend of mine told me she had spent a summer in Croatia. I had just gotten out of a class on the Rebirth of Eastern Europe where we had been discussing such topics like the implosion of Yugoslavia and how Bosnia (at that point in time at least) was considered a failed state. I looked at my friend with a bewildered look as if to say, "Why would you want to go to such a place?" "Oh, no, it's not like that! It's beautiful there!," she said.
Fast forward to not so long ago, and there I was at the Dubrovnik airport, just outside the rental car office, trying to teach myself how to drive stick all over again. Thanks in part to its appearance on various tv shows and movies as well as its admission to the EU, tourism in Croatia has really taken off. The same could not be said about our rental car, as I was struggling to get it into reverse. It had plates on it indicating it had been purchased at a Porsche dealership, but it was actually just a small Volkswagen hatchback. That wouldn't stop me from referring to our car as "the Porsche" for the remainder of the trip. We had spent a long time determining how to get around the Balkans, as we wanted to do more than just Croatia. Our plan was to drive down to Montenegro, then northern Albania, and circle back through Montenegro into Bosnia, back to Croatia, and up to Slovenia where we planned to drop off the car. Phew. Why not just go north/south instead of all this circling? Well, at least from our experience, Albania seems to be a sticking point in rental car contracts and we couldn't figure out a way of dropping off or picking up in that country. Furthermore, none of the major international car rental companies were willing to let us do a point-to-point rental, but we found a small local Croatian company that would take care of all the paperwork and insurance needed to do all these border crossings.
I finally managed to get the "Porsche" into third gear and we rumbled along the coastal road toward Dubrovnik. We stayed north of the old town and enjoyed some pizza with olives (it's everywhere). We did eventually try to get into old town with a car, but this was easier said than done.
After spending what seemed like an hour looking for a spot, we gave up. With beads of sweat dripping off my forehead, we drove up winding narrow roads to a pull-off where we could at least see the fortress from above. Luckily Dubrovnik would have the most crowds we would see for the rest of the trip. We were told that there is a bus that goes to the old town from the ferry docks that were about 3 blocks from our hotel. Why take a bus when you have a car? Well, now we all know the answer.
We trudged along toward Montenegro. It took us about 45 minutes to cross the border since most of the lanes were closed. I do admit, the time gave me a lot of time to think about all the things that could go wrong. I have seen enough Bond movies to know that border crossings are always where things go south. I thought about our paperwork and whether or not it would be a problem. As we finally reached the checkpoint, a stern looking gentleman asked for my papers, stamped our passports, and without much emotion, waved us along. We were free!
As we puttered along, we saw a fairly large presence of the Montenegrin police. They would be standing on the side of the road, and wave over vehicles. I'm not sure if this was for speeding infractions or random searches. This happened about three times where the vehicle directly in front of us was flagged over. The "Porsche," did not arouse too much suspicion, thankfully. Our destination was Kotor, a coastal town with a walled center area like Dubrovnik. We had booked a small apartment in the center of the walled city, not unlike an AirBnb, where the owner assured us he would take care of our parking concerns. As we neared the town, we could see a cruise ship docked and people were everywhere. Traffic was heavy, but a man riding on a scooter in a pink polo shirt identified himself as the owner of the apartment and offered to lead us to a special parking lot. We had no reason not to believe him.
Once free of the "Porsche," we were able to explore the old town and stretch our legs. The streets were crowded initially, its cafés teeming with the seafarers from the cruise ship no doubt. But within a few hours, the town was emptying out, as the boat tooted its horn and left for some other port of call. Now it was just us, a few other tourists, and lots of cats. We enjoyed sitting in the main square by the Cathedral of St Tryphon while enjoying a couple of local Niksicko beers.
As evening led to night, we kept exploring the dark, narrow alleys of the old town and even walked on the city walls before returning to our apartment, where a free bottle of red wine was waiting for us.
On the next day, it was a short drive to Budva. Like Kotor, it also finds itself on the coast, but the feel is very different. Million dollar yachts lined the harbor area, and there didn't seem to be nearly as many cats. It had a more resort-like feel compared to the small, quaint, old-town vibe of Kotor.
We would have to cross the entire country of Montenegro (at least it's small), and then into Bosnia to the town of Mostar. Our progress was steady until we reached the border with Bosnia. The gates were down and every car around us was from a different country and we all spoke different languages. Nevertheless, it seemed that the consensus was that they were repaving the road and it would open at 2:00pm. We had about 90 mins to kill. At precisely 2:00, cars started honking their horns and eventually a Volvo from the back of the line accelerated at full speed toward the gates, which were taken down at last minute. We all followed suit. Upon crossing into Bosnia, I was a bit confused. We were greeted not by a sign welcoming us to Bosnia-Herzegovina, but rather Republika Sprska, which is like an autonomous part of Bosnia with its own flag. It was confusing, but research the political history of Bosnia, and you will find yourself even more confused. After driving through the countryside for a while, we eventually reached Mostar and settled into our room overlooking the Stari Most (literally Old Bridge). The "Old Bridge," is in fact a very new bridge on account of the old old bridge being destroyed back in the 90s during the war. Other than the bullet holes in some buildings and a few abandoned structures without roofs, one doesn't really feel like there was a bloody war fought on these river banks. Mostar has rebuilt and transformed back into a very cute old town lined with shops and restaurants. I enjoyed a large helping of pljeskavica for dinner, a sort of spiced pork, beef, and lamb patty served with fries and a pita. My travel companion looked at me with a perplexity like someone seeing a Turducken for the first time. It was very tasty, but salty.
When we left Mostar the following morning, we were handed another free bottle of wine on our way out. Not too shabby. We made a stop at Kravice Falls, a collection of waterfalls up in the mountains. As we stood there snapping pictures and taking in the natural beauty, we had to pause to remind ourselves that we were in Bosnia-Herzegovina, a place that people have so long associated with war that something as scenic as these waterfalls is easily overlooked.
Our next border crossing through the mountains into Croatia was easy, and within an hour we were in Split on the Dalmatian coast. The general theme in this area is that parking is a premium. Cars were parked on the sidewalks, on boulevards, or anywhere there was a flat piece of land. We luckily had our own garage attached to an AirBnB and didn't have to leave the "Porsche" out in the open in this bustling city. We also had a washer/dryer unit in our temporary home which was crucial. We walked through the old streets of Split and were able to see a well-preserved Roman city now playing host to a vibrant night life scene. We visited the Diocletian Palace, and enjoyed walking the narrow alleys and backstreets of this old city.
The following morning, we discovered that the dryer portion of the washer/dryer was not entirely functional, so we draped all of our clothes over the backseat of the "Porsche" as we continued our drive into Northern Croatia. We didn't stop until reaching Plitvice Lakes National Park. You may have seen pictures of this wonder adorning the walls of your dentist office. It is very zen. The park is divided into upper and lower lakes. We had arrived later in the afternoon, so we would only have time to do one section before the park closed. Our guesthouse owner suggested the upper lakes, but mentioned that most people do the lower ones. The lower lakes have bigger waterfalls, which seems to be the big draw. The upper lakes have smaller cascades, but we found this to be more appealing. The crowds were almost nonexistent. It probably didn't hurt that it was cold and raining. The pathway itself was pretty remarkable. We were enjoying our leisurely 5km hike along the wooden pathway, stopping quite often to take pictures. The only thing that kept us moving a little faster was the need to catch a small ferry across the lake back to the visitor center before they stopped operating. I have met many people who have been to Croatia, but very few go to Plitvice. I cannot recommend it enough.
When we departed the following day for Slovenia, the architecture rapidly changed from Mediterranean with red and orange roofs to more Alpine and wooden construction. Driving in Slovenia requires vignettes, or small stickers that we had to place in our windshield. It cost about 15 EUR and was valid for a week. Our destination was Bled, a resort town in the foothills of the mountains and famous for its church on an island in the middle of the lake. The shops around the lake were decidedly upscale and marked a stark departure from the prices we saw in Albania or Bosnia. We did, however, enjoy a piece of Bled Cake, a cream cake with a custard filling.
We then walked to the top of Bled Castle, which towers high over the lake. Even if you have no interest in the castle itself, I recommend it just for the overlook because it offers some of the best views of the island and church below.
Slovenia was our last stop on our Balkan road trip before switching to rail and heading into Austria and finally Munich. We drove the "Porsche" for its last leg to the Ljubljana train station. Miraculously, a representative of the rental company was there to meet us. Either that, or we were victims of the friendliest carjacking of all time.
The Balkan countries are best seen by car. There are certainly some added stresses associated with this, as you might have gathered. We got lost a few times, had to worry about border crossings and parking spots, but the flexibility a car can afford cannot be matched. I feel as though we barely scratched the surface of the Balkans, as our trip was a bit of a whirlwind. If I were to do it again, I might narrow the scope and do less driving. The Balkans have a lot to offer and each country has its own unique culture and feel, so it was hard to turn down visiting another country if we just drove a little bit longer.
The best part was learning new things about these places that don't get visited at the scale of other destinations in Europe. I would love to return and explore more of the Balkans that we didn't see such as Serbia, Kosovo, and Macedonia. And while driving may be the best way to get around, it's the time spent not driving that is the most important.
Fast forward to not so long ago, and there I was at the Dubrovnik airport, just outside the rental car office, trying to teach myself how to drive stick all over again. Thanks in part to its appearance on various tv shows and movies as well as its admission to the EU, tourism in Croatia has really taken off. The same could not be said about our rental car, as I was struggling to get it into reverse. It had plates on it indicating it had been purchased at a Porsche dealership, but it was actually just a small Volkswagen hatchback. That wouldn't stop me from referring to our car as "the Porsche" for the remainder of the trip. We had spent a long time determining how to get around the Balkans, as we wanted to do more than just Croatia. Our plan was to drive down to Montenegro, then northern Albania, and circle back through Montenegro into Bosnia, back to Croatia, and up to Slovenia where we planned to drop off the car. Phew. Why not just go north/south instead of all this circling? Well, at least from our experience, Albania seems to be a sticking point in rental car contracts and we couldn't figure out a way of dropping off or picking up in that country. Furthermore, none of the major international car rental companies were willing to let us do a point-to-point rental, but we found a small local Croatian company that would take care of all the paperwork and insurance needed to do all these border crossings.
I finally managed to get the "Porsche" into third gear and we rumbled along the coastal road toward Dubrovnik. We stayed north of the old town and enjoyed some pizza with olives (it's everywhere). We did eventually try to get into old town with a car, but this was easier said than done.
After spending what seemed like an hour looking for a spot, we gave up. With beads of sweat dripping off my forehead, we drove up winding narrow roads to a pull-off where we could at least see the fortress from above. Luckily Dubrovnik would have the most crowds we would see for the rest of the trip. We were told that there is a bus that goes to the old town from the ferry docks that were about 3 blocks from our hotel. Why take a bus when you have a car? Well, now we all know the answer.
We trudged along toward Montenegro. It took us about 45 minutes to cross the border since most of the lanes were closed. I do admit, the time gave me a lot of time to think about all the things that could go wrong. I have seen enough Bond movies to know that border crossings are always where things go south. I thought about our paperwork and whether or not it would be a problem. As we finally reached the checkpoint, a stern looking gentleman asked for my papers, stamped our passports, and without much emotion, waved us along. We were free!
As we puttered along, we saw a fairly large presence of the Montenegrin police. They would be standing on the side of the road, and wave over vehicles. I'm not sure if this was for speeding infractions or random searches. This happened about three times where the vehicle directly in front of us was flagged over. The "Porsche," did not arouse too much suspicion, thankfully. Our destination was Kotor, a coastal town with a walled center area like Dubrovnik. We had booked a small apartment in the center of the walled city, not unlike an AirBnb, where the owner assured us he would take care of our parking concerns. As we neared the town, we could see a cruise ship docked and people were everywhere. Traffic was heavy, but a man riding on a scooter in a pink polo shirt identified himself as the owner of the apartment and offered to lead us to a special parking lot. We had no reason not to believe him.
Once free of the "Porsche," we were able to explore the old town and stretch our legs. The streets were crowded initially, its cafés teeming with the seafarers from the cruise ship no doubt. But within a few hours, the town was emptying out, as the boat tooted its horn and left for some other port of call. Now it was just us, a few other tourists, and lots of cats. We enjoyed sitting in the main square by the Cathedral of St Tryphon while enjoying a couple of local Niksicko beers.
As evening led to night, we kept exploring the dark, narrow alleys of the old town and even walked on the city walls before returning to our apartment, where a free bottle of red wine was waiting for us.
On the next day, it was a short drive to Budva. Like Kotor, it also finds itself on the coast, but the feel is very different. Million dollar yachts lined the harbor area, and there didn't seem to be nearly as many cats. It had a more resort-like feel compared to the small, quaint, old-town vibe of Kotor.
None of this mattered as we were just making a brief stopover here on our way to Albania. If you research Albania online, you will most likely find articles saying that vehicle theft in Albania is rampant, the roads are in terrible condition, and the drivers are self-taught. At least from my experience, this is an outdated viewpoint. The roads were . . . pretty standard roads, the drivers seemed no worse or better than anywhere else we had been, and despite driving a "Porsche," nobody attempted to steal it. We spent the rest of the day in Shkodër. We first tried to visit Rozafa Castle, on the outskirts of the city, but we couldn't enter because they only take cash, which we did not have. We only had credit cards and Croatian Kuna. You see, despite these countries being in various stages of entry into the EU, they don't necessarily use the Euro, and we had to keep changing money each time we crossed a border. After heading into town for an ATM, we found a pedestrian-only street, the Rruga Kole Idromeno, which was flanked by the Al-Zamil mosque on one side and a statue of Mother Theresa on the other. Fun fact, she's from Albania. We went on a shopping frenzy on this street because everything was extremely cheap. We stayed at the Hotel Tradita, just blocks away, a very old wooden building with traditional Albanian rugs and decorations. They made dinner for us, which was quite a feast. Our entire table was covered with everything from olives and goat cheese to pasta, flatbreads, stuffed potatoes, and more. I think our bill for everything including two glasses of wine for two people was something like $12. Breakfast the next morning was more of the same, an entire table covered with food, but we couldn't sit around too long because we had a long day of driving ahead of us.
We would have to cross the entire country of Montenegro (at least it's small), and then into Bosnia to the town of Mostar. Our progress was steady until we reached the border with Bosnia. The gates were down and every car around us was from a different country and we all spoke different languages. Nevertheless, it seemed that the consensus was that they were repaving the road and it would open at 2:00pm. We had about 90 mins to kill. At precisely 2:00, cars started honking their horns and eventually a Volvo from the back of the line accelerated at full speed toward the gates, which were taken down at last minute. We all followed suit. Upon crossing into Bosnia, I was a bit confused. We were greeted not by a sign welcoming us to Bosnia-Herzegovina, but rather Republika Sprska, which is like an autonomous part of Bosnia with its own flag. It was confusing, but research the political history of Bosnia, and you will find yourself even more confused. After driving through the countryside for a while, we eventually reached Mostar and settled into our room overlooking the Stari Most (literally Old Bridge). The "Old Bridge," is in fact a very new bridge on account of the old old bridge being destroyed back in the 90s during the war. Other than the bullet holes in some buildings and a few abandoned structures without roofs, one doesn't really feel like there was a bloody war fought on these river banks. Mostar has rebuilt and transformed back into a very cute old town lined with shops and restaurants. I enjoyed a large helping of pljeskavica for dinner, a sort of spiced pork, beef, and lamb patty served with fries and a pita. My travel companion looked at me with a perplexity like someone seeing a Turducken for the first time. It was very tasty, but salty.
When we left Mostar the following morning, we were handed another free bottle of wine on our way out. Not too shabby. We made a stop at Kravice Falls, a collection of waterfalls up in the mountains. As we stood there snapping pictures and taking in the natural beauty, we had to pause to remind ourselves that we were in Bosnia-Herzegovina, a place that people have so long associated with war that something as scenic as these waterfalls is easily overlooked.
Our next border crossing through the mountains into Croatia was easy, and within an hour we were in Split on the Dalmatian coast. The general theme in this area is that parking is a premium. Cars were parked on the sidewalks, on boulevards, or anywhere there was a flat piece of land. We luckily had our own garage attached to an AirBnB and didn't have to leave the "Porsche" out in the open in this bustling city. We also had a washer/dryer unit in our temporary home which was crucial. We walked through the old streets of Split and were able to see a well-preserved Roman city now playing host to a vibrant night life scene. We visited the Diocletian Palace, and enjoyed walking the narrow alleys and backstreets of this old city.
The following morning, we discovered that the dryer portion of the washer/dryer was not entirely functional, so we draped all of our clothes over the backseat of the "Porsche" as we continued our drive into Northern Croatia. We didn't stop until reaching Plitvice Lakes National Park. You may have seen pictures of this wonder adorning the walls of your dentist office. It is very zen. The park is divided into upper and lower lakes. We had arrived later in the afternoon, so we would only have time to do one section before the park closed. Our guesthouse owner suggested the upper lakes, but mentioned that most people do the lower ones. The lower lakes have bigger waterfalls, which seems to be the big draw. The upper lakes have smaller cascades, but we found this to be more appealing. The crowds were almost nonexistent. It probably didn't hurt that it was cold and raining. The pathway itself was pretty remarkable. We were enjoying our leisurely 5km hike along the wooden pathway, stopping quite often to take pictures. The only thing that kept us moving a little faster was the need to catch a small ferry across the lake back to the visitor center before they stopped operating. I have met many people who have been to Croatia, but very few go to Plitvice. I cannot recommend it enough.
When we departed the following day for Slovenia, the architecture rapidly changed from Mediterranean with red and orange roofs to more Alpine and wooden construction. Driving in Slovenia requires vignettes, or small stickers that we had to place in our windshield. It cost about 15 EUR and was valid for a week. Our destination was Bled, a resort town in the foothills of the mountains and famous for its church on an island in the middle of the lake. The shops around the lake were decidedly upscale and marked a stark departure from the prices we saw in Albania or Bosnia. We did, however, enjoy a piece of Bled Cake, a cream cake with a custard filling.
We then walked to the top of Bled Castle, which towers high over the lake. Even if you have no interest in the castle itself, I recommend it just for the overlook because it offers some of the best views of the island and church below.
Slovenia was our last stop on our Balkan road trip before switching to rail and heading into Austria and finally Munich. We drove the "Porsche" for its last leg to the Ljubljana train station. Miraculously, a representative of the rental company was there to meet us. Either that, or we were victims of the friendliest carjacking of all time.
The Balkan countries are best seen by car. There are certainly some added stresses associated with this, as you might have gathered. We got lost a few times, had to worry about border crossings and parking spots, but the flexibility a car can afford cannot be matched. I feel as though we barely scratched the surface of the Balkans, as our trip was a bit of a whirlwind. If I were to do it again, I might narrow the scope and do less driving. The Balkans have a lot to offer and each country has its own unique culture and feel, so it was hard to turn down visiting another country if we just drove a little bit longer.
The best part was learning new things about these places that don't get visited at the scale of other destinations in Europe. I would love to return and explore more of the Balkans that we didn't see such as Serbia, Kosovo, and Macedonia. And while driving may be the best way to get around, it's the time spent not driving that is the most important.
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