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| I took this photo yesterday, my last night in Dubrovnik, east of the old town. Shortly after taking a picture of the sailing ship, the sky lit up with orange rays as the sun se behind the old town. The crescent moon is visible on the left of the photo. Dubrovnik might be one of the best places to watch the sunset. |
After letting my rucksack dry for several days, I begin to reattach it to the frame and load it up. One of the benefits of my Kuiu backpack is it is entirely modular, comprised of four main components, each replaceable. The bag, the harness, the carbon fiber frame, and the hip belt pouches. This made it extremely easy to wash my bag after the soap incident the other day. All I had to do was detach the bag from the harness. Emptying the entire bag of contents also allowed me to throw away a few things that were no longer serving me, such as cough drops and melted candy bars.
My bus leaves the station around 11 am, so after loading my pack, I walk west towards the new harbor and see a Norwegian Cruise Ship moored in the distance.
Flixbus sends me a text. "Your bus is delayed 38 minutes." This is a gift. Now I can grab lunch before getting on the bus. So, I head towards the farmers market. Although there is a lot of great produce and fresh fish, I realize quickly that I won't be finding lunch here.
The market has lots of beautiful fresh-cut flowers. In recent years, I have grown quite fond of fresh-cut flowers and enjoy having them around the house, though seeing these this morning reminds me that I don't display them frequently enough.
After lunch, I make my way to the bus station. As I wait to load my luggage in the cargo bay, I feel a tap on my shoulder "Bonjour! [Hello!] says Fatiha. Hello again, Fatiha, I say as I toss my rucksack into the compartment. The bus is full, so when I board, I ask if I can share the bus ride with Fatiha. She smiles and says of course. Finally, an hour and a half late, the bus departs Dubrovnik.
Fatiha and I catch up on our impressions of Dubrovnik and travel stories. She has been traveling since early September and spent 10 days in Croatia, working north to south before we met a few days ago. I ask if she's made it to Šibenik. I remember Drazena and the other Croatian women I met after Santillana del Mar on the Camino saying that it is the best city in Croatia because it is pretty but not touristy. She says she wanted to but skipped it. As we near the border checkpoint, I turn to Fateiha, "Merde. J'ai oublié mon passeport dans mon sac à dos. [Shit. I forgot my passport in my rucksack,] I say. She responds with "Eh bien, soit le chauffeur vous laissera le récupérer, soit nous vous laissons ici. [Well, the driver will either let you retrieve it, or we are leaving you here.]." We laugh at the absurd thought.
The bus finally stops, and we disembark at the Croatia Border Control. Each person passes through customs one at a time. Once on the other side of the border, I take a picture. "Wow! You really do want to get stuck here. You can't take pictures here," says Fatiha. As I put down my phone, I notice a sign with a camera and redline through it. I laugh as I put my phone away. About 10 minutes later, we repeat the process at the Montenegro Border control.
The 2.5-hour bus ride is one of the prettiest bus rides I have taken thus far. Montenegro is full of beautiful mountains. Unfortunately, I am in an aisle seat, and all I get is glare from the dirty windows through the camera. After a long drive around the beautiful bay of Kotor, surrounded by steep mountains, the bus stops at the small village of Kotor. "A bien tôt [see you later]," says Fatiha as she and the rest of the bus disembark. When the bus starts again, only three of us remain. Notably, we are all sitting near each other.
One is a young German woman heading to Budva to meet up with her Australian friend, who has been in Albania for the past several weeks. He ran out of days on his Schengen Visa like me. Behind me is a blond woman who sits quietly. Where are you from? I ask. "Ukraine. I've been traveling since the conflict started in May and have visited 14 countries so far," she says. We chat a bit more, but I can tell she is uncomfortable speaking English, so I chat with the German girl, who tells me her friend loves Albania.
Twenty minutes later, the three of us disembark in Budva and head our separate ways. Our arrival is 2.5 hours late. I spend the next 40 minutes wandering back and forth between my Airbnb apartment building and the bus station, which is only 5 minutes away. I am trying to reach the host's brother, so he can let me in. Unfortunately, I no longer have access to a cell phone plan. I can't communicate with Nino without WiFi. One of the times I round the corner to the apartment complex, I bump into the Ukrainian woman from the bus. Liubov (loo-bov) is also staying in the same apartment building. She is only here for one night before she heads to Tirana tomorrow. "I am heading to the grocery store. There is a little one nearby," she says. That is a good idea, they will all be closed tomorrow, since it is Sunday, I say. The view is northeast of my apartment complex.
After another trip to the bus station, I finally buy and install a local SIM card. It costs me 10 euros. I now have 5 GB of data for 7 days. Way more than I need. I shake my head. Cell phone plans are dirt cheap everywhere but in North America. Finally, I can chat with Nino. I return to the apartment complex and bump into Liubov again as she leaves the apartment for a second time. We start chatting, but before I can find out where she is heading this time, Nino arrives a couple minutes later. I'll see you later, Liubov, and follow Nino into the apartment complex via a different entrance. The view southeast from the 3rd floor is lovely tonight.
Finally settled in, I head south to the riviera to find a restaurant. I am hungry and excited to eat early for a change. The bay is beautiful here, and shortly after taking the picture below, the darkness settles in. I look around and notice that the mountains will shorten daylight considerably. Plus, tomorrow is daylight savings, so I will lose an hour of daylight. It will be dark before 5 pm. I wander down the boardwalk, checking restaurant menus. I look up, and it's Liubov heading my way. Hello again, I say. This is a surprise. The universe wants us to spend time together, I guess. I have run into you four times today. Want to grab something to eat? I say. "No, I am not hungry, but I'll have a glass of wine with you. I just came from the old town. It is my second time in Budva," she says. 
Liubov tells me she started traveling when the war started in Ukraine, and because she works in IT as a website developer for a US company, she can work from anywhere. Her mom and dad, as well as her married twin sister, are still in Ukraine. She says life is hard in Ukraine right now. Since the Russians bombed their infrastructure, electricity, and water have been intermittent. Her family frequently does without. She said she was scared at first to travel by herself. She speaks Ukrainian, Russian, and very little English. "My English is not good," she says. I laugh. You're English is very good. I wish my Spanish was as good as your English, I say. "Do you always run into people after you meet them? Unless I have people's contact information, I never see people again," she says. Really? I say. I tell her how I frequently reencounter people and share my stories of José Ramone (20 days), Alicia from Germany (42 days), and Fatiha, who was sitting in front of her next to me on the bus, as examples. "I think this is you. It never happens to me," she says.
I am perplexed by this. Of course, this can't be unique to me. However, as I sit here reflecting on Liubov's observation, she might be right. I never thought about it much, but I expect to see people again after we meet. I am unsure why I feel this way, but I notice that I frequently have this feeling. Sure, it was expected and easier on the Camino because everyone was traveling in the same direction. But now? How do I explain that? I think you might be right, Liubov. It might be me. I never say goodbye to people I meet. I always say see you later, I tell her. "See, I was right. It is you," she says. I smile.
After dinner, I walk with Liubov back to the apartment complex. We exchange contact information as I plan to be in Albania soon, and I wish her safe travels tomorrow. "Goodnight," she says. As I climb the stairs to my studio apartment, I remember that the universe works in mysterious ways and frequently needs no explanation. I enjoy meeting people and taking pleasure in reencountering them under serendipitous circumstances. It appears that I am being given the opportunity to make friends while simultaneously learning to let them go. Regardless of the reasons, I enjoy it, that is matters most.
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