Kotor’s Charm

When planning my trip this summer, I had a list of places I wanted to see and was absolutely not willing to reconsider.

I’d done my research (well… as much as I ever do), talked to friends who’d traveled the Balkan countries before, and mapped out a slightly complicated route that had me doubling back to Croatia not once but twice. But however complicated, I NEEDED to see Mostar and Kotor this summer, and was going to see them if it killed me! The ancient walls, the bay, the Venetian Old Town… I needed to be there.

Anyway, my last night in Dubrovnik (the first time) was an especially late night, so getting up early, checking out of my Airbnb, and making the trek to the bus station was not something I necessarily wanted to be doing. But, due to my failure to plan ahead, buses were sold out until late in the afternoon, and I was stranded in Dubrovnik for an extra bunch of hours. Once I finally got on my way, the bus ride was jaw-droppingly beautiful; I actually woke up the guy sleeping next to me on the bus at one point, feeling it would be an complete tragedy if he missed the view. Part of the ride was on a large ferry, where we were warned to be back on the boat within 10 minutes or risk being left behind. The closer we got, the more the natural beauty of the Bay of Kotor struck me; the Orjen and Lovcen Mountains surround this inlet of the Adriatic Sea, and the result is truly nature at its finest. Lord Byron put it much more articulately, writing, “When the pearls of nature were sown, on this soil an overflowing handful was gathered. This most beautiful contact between the earth and sea took place at the Montenegrin littoral.”

When I finally arrived at the Kotor bus station, I asked a taxi driver for a ride to the Old Town. He gave me a weird look and told me, pointing, “No.. just walk that way for 10 minutes.” I did, the whole time staring up at the jagged stairs that wound their way through the hills, almost looking like the spine of some sleeping dragon. I learned later that these were the steps up to the Castle of St. John, also known as Sveti Ivan’s Fortress.

Kotor is tiny and charming, and the historically-intact Old Town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so obviously I was completely in love with it.

My first night was a wonderful cultural exchange with a few strangers over dinner; a couple of German businessmen and a French swimmer invited me to join their table in the twinkle-light courtyard I’d found, and shared with me their secrets to happiness.

I spent much of the first morning roaming the cobbled streets, ducking into quirky boutiques and antique shops. The narrow, winding labyrinth enclosed within medieval walls are perfect for getting lost. I was surprised by how many cat themed shops and museums I came across. Kotor has a thing for cats; a taxi driver told me that cats arrived on various shipping boats in medieval times. Inhabitants were grateful, as the cats kept the rats, mice, and snakes at bay (as are common in such a mountainous region), but were even more grateful when they weren’t affected by the plague. They felt that they had been saved because cats drove any infected rats out of the city.

Finding a boat ride through the Bay of Kotor is easier than you can imagine.

Vendors advertising various tours fill the plaza directly outside of the city walls. They happily direct you to the tour that’s right for you (“Go see my buddy in the red vest!”), even though they’re technically competitors. Because my time in Kotor was so short, I found one that stopped at just the two spots I was most interested in. I think my happy place is the bow of the boat, and lucky me found a spot there with a couple of Swedish girls. It was sweltering that day, but with the crisp sea air blowing in your face, who could complain?

Our first stop was Our Lady of the Rocks, a tiny island in the bay.

Legend has it that after finding the image of the Madonna on a rock in the 1400s, two seamen brought it home, hoping it would heal their sick brother. When he miraculously recovered, they vowed to honor her by building a church where they had found the rock. Others carried on the tradition by tossing a rock off the island whenever they returned safely from a voyage. The church was beautiful, though quite crowded. I loved the navy painted ceiling, but found it strangely captivating to see a man-made island in the middle of a zone so full of natural beauty.

Afterwards, we headed to Perast.

Though completely beautiful, there isn’t a ton to do in Perast. However, for such a tiny town, there is an abundance of churches and Baroque palaces, and Venetian-style architecture. I spent about half an hour walking up and down every narrow street I could find, before settling down in a courtyard with a bottle of water, listening to a musician play his guitar. I stayed there, soaking in my surroundings, until it was time to head back to Kotor.

For my last morning, I had big plans, but had to wake up ridiculously early to carry them out. I love waking up at the crack of dawn, but typically do so in order to lounge around guilt free for longer. That said, I thought waking at 5:00am on my last day would be a struggle. However, I’ve never been more excited to hop out of bed; I wanted to be the first of the day to reach the fortress. The entrance to the pathway wasn’t difficult to find, and I quickly made my way through the silent, sleeping Old Town. Even the cats seemed to have disappeared.

For me, climbing the 1,350 steps felt historically, physically, and emotionally significant.

Kotor has survived powerful occupations in the past several hundred years. The earliest parts of the fortress itself was started in the 9th century by the Byzantines, and building was continued through the 1400s by the Venetians. Each regime, starting with the Illyrians, and including the Serbs, Venetians, Austrians, added its own defenses to the city, resulting in 4.5 km of zigzagging steps and hollow buildings that remain today.

This is maybe my most indulgent decision ever: I took a taxi back to Croatia. I know, and I even already had a bus ticket. But the idea of getting into a sweaty bus, stressing about when to get off and how to handle border control just felt like too much. As it usually goes with me and taxis, it was a much more rewarding experience. My driver chatted away through the relatively quick drive, sharing with me some of Montenegro’s history, ideas on politics, and what life was like in this tourist haven during the low season. It may have been more expensive than a bus ticket, but at that moment, my luxurious ride along the coastline was more than worth it.