A 5 hour bus ride from Bijelo Polje and I found myself in heaven. Well, pretty close to it anyway. I told Dina my only complaint of Tivat was the lack of sandy beaches and although the concrete (literally, just concrete. Imagine lying beside a less polluted and more coastal version of the Yarra on Southbank) took some getting used to, it was a small price to pay for a full week of doing little but eating, sleeping, tanning and swimming.
There's something comforting about staying in someone's home, even if it's not your relative and especially after staying in hotels and apartments for a couple of months. Many a kiss on the cheek (x 3, the Serbian way of course), sarcastic remark, random hug and aggressive Serbian swear word passed through the house with the presence of Bubba, Dina, Marina, Sofija, Tanja and Branca (Dina's mother, sister, cousin and Aunty) making it all the more inviting!
We formed a comfortable routine of waking early, grabbing a quick bite to eat of some traditional Montenegrin food that Bubba had laid out on the table (think cured meats, bread, cheese, yoghurt, savoury donuts, chocolate milk, maybe everything at once...) then hitting the beach before it got too unbearably hot. With Melbourne being in winter and all you're probably thinking 'unappreciative b*ches...' but trust me, there is such thing as too hot, even at the beach!
At this point we'd retire 'home' for another home cooked meal, followed by maybe an afternoon nap or a trip to the internet cafe (Jenny_Franco wifi got switched off the day after we arrived...Jenny Franco apparently being the nice elderly lady living in the apartment below us...) before heading to the beach for session two!
Evenings consisted of balmy strolls through the little town, where the few cafes situated on the main street were perfect for people watching and who, after a few drinks, we realised don't actually do very nice drinks. A night or two consisted of some competitive dart playing, dancing to random Serbian pop songs, crazy South African yacht-worker meeting and well, a bit of vomit. Followed by more dancing, of course!
Suffice to say, I consider myself half Montenegrin now that I know a handful of words/phrases in their language. 'I can't [eat anymore]', 'thank you', 'eat', 'enough' and 'idiot'. All very useful words let me tell you.
