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redeadepression · 5 years ago

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Untitled John Fic | John Marston x F!Reader | Angst

I couldn’t think of a title so... Get it? Like the Goose game. Lol.

Sooo I misread this ask as specifically asking for fem reader which is how I have written the fic. I apologise if you were wanting GN or M!Reader. But I do state in my rules if you don’t ask for a specific gender I will probably write F!Reader as it’s what I am most confident in as a female.

I would also LOVE to write an Arthur fic along the same vein but need to wait for inspiration to hit. Feel free to send me sad Arthur headcanons you wouldn’t mind me using as a prompt to get the juices flowing.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts | Tags: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort

Relationships: John Marston x F!Reader, (past) John Marston x Abigail Roberts | NO CHEATING

Word Count: 4608

Summery: John is struggling with juggling a new relationship and his commitment to Abigail as ex-husband/co-parent to Jack. Reader comforts him when he’s down.

Disclaimer: I fucking LOVE Abigail!!! Don’t @ me about her characterization in this fic! John/Abi is my OTP. I am fully aware they are BOTH at fault for their shitty relationship early game and I try so hard to never write her as purely “the bad guy”. I make sure to always try and give her solid reasoning behind her shitty actions. However, this fic is from John and his new gf’s POV so obviously Abigail is going to be the antagonist.

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It had been a hard few months. Tensions were high in the Gang and as a relatively new member you were finding it hard to hide that fact that you felt uncomfortable and out of place.

Most of your awkward feelings came from the seemingly unanimous contempt that had been placed upon you by a large number of gang members. A strong dislike so thinly veiled that it hung in the air like a bad smell. It felt absolutely suffocating, intolerable at times.

But you couldn’t walk away now. Not after what you had done to cause this cloud of abhorrence that seemed to follow your every move. You’d made a commitment and you planned to stick it out until the heat died down.

If it did die down… You worried more than you cared to admit that you had made a name for yourself. That your time here would always be miserable.

You sat by yourself on a log near the fire. Having risen earlier than usual to try and avoid the bustle of the morning. Gang members arguing over who got the first cup of coffee and whining at the taste of left-over stew for breakfast.

Most people were still asleep. The sun had only just begun to peak its head over the mountains across the distant valley. You were enjoying your moment of silence, a second to yourself to catch your breath after a horrible night of restless sleep.

As if the universe itself was against you, an almighty shriek ripped through the camp, a sudden wind, unrelated to the noise jostled tent flaps and wiped your hair around your face. If you didn’t know better, you would have sworn the breeze was a shockwave from the force of Abigail’s wrath.

You exhaled slowly, turning to look in the direction of the disturbance but still trying to be discreet lest anyone was watching.

Abigail was berating John. Absolutely tearing shreds off him as he stared at her blankly like a startled deer. He had been on his way to the fire, empty coffee cup in hand when she had caught up with him. Her mannerisms telling anyone that was watching that she was finally at the end of her tether.

You pursed your lips, turning back to the fire quickly and trying to pretend you hadn’t heard. Couldn’t still hear, the screaming and cursing.

You couldn’t blame her. It was your fault she was so high strung lately.

You listened as John tried to defend himself meekly. His arguments palling in comparison to her accusations. She had every right to be as upset with him as she was. But you felt perhaps this discussion could have happened in private instead of airing your dirty laundry for the Gang to witness.

It had been a good 6 months now since they had broken up. Amicably at first with the intensions of working things out after a trial separation. John had needed space from her constant nagging and Abigail felt she needed time away from here ‘second child.’

They kept their separation to themselves. But due to the nature of their volatile relationship it wasn’t such a secret. Abigail and Jack moved out of John’s tent and Jack had spent days crying on his bedroll. Heartbroken over his parents splitting up.

This caused frequent quarrels. Abigail arguing that John didn’t care and wasn’t doing anything to try and console the boy that everything would be fine. John arguing right back that there was nothing he could do. Why give him hope for something that may never happen?

The fact that Abigail refused to leave him in peace after their separation just pushed him further away. Even if her arguments were valid and with good intension. John felt caged. Breaking up didn’t make her stop. He couldn’t catch a break. He felt trapped with the only option being to run again.

You bit at your bottom lip, taking a sip of your coffee to seem nonchalant as more and more gang members began to rise from their tents to see what all the commotion is about. A few were looking directly at you. Their eyes squinted and full of loathing. But most were looking at Abigail and John. Watching as she paced in front of him, ranting and raving about his lack of care.

It seemed she’d had a rough night. With Jack falling ill she’s not slept a wink. Between comforting him and cleaning him up after he’s been sick, she was awake the entire night. Resentment at John’s blissfully unaware state growing by the minute as he slept right through a few tents over.

He was arguing that he didn’t know. She should have told him he was sick. Asked for help and he would have been there. Abigail was screaming back that asking him for help has never done her any good in the past so why should she start now?

John was flailing, you could see it plainly as you chanced another glance around. She was too damn angry to hear anything he had to say. You felt for her. You really did. That was, until she noticed you.

She turned on you with the fury of 3 angry bulls. She screamed your name, pointing. All eyes were on you as she shouted.

“And you! You don’t help a damn thing you homewrecker!”

Your jaw droped, unable to speak as you blinked in disbelief. She’d not spoken a word to you in months. Of course now was the time she chose to hash it all out.

“Hey!” John interjected, grabbing Abigail by the arm and spinning her back in his direction. “You leave her out of this!” He warned, eyes stern as she reeled around, hand clapping hard against the side of his face and making him falter. He let go of her, staring with wounded eyes as she took a step back. Realising what she’d just done and clearing her throat.

She opened her mouth to apologise. Her own disbelief greater than that of anybody watching. It had been a reflex. Muscle memory from her days as a prostitute. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

John turned away, standing there for a second longer before walking away in the direction of the horses.

You watched in stunned silence as she let him go. Even the birds seemingly invested in the situation as an awry stillness descended on the whole area. The only sound the crunching of John’s boots as he stomped towards Old Boy.

He mounted up and left. Forgoing a saddle or any other tack. Hands holding tight on to Old Boy’s mane as he dug his heels into the horse’s ribs and directed him away from camp.

It took a few minutes and Abigail retreating to her lean-to to check on Jack before anyone dared to make a move. Gang members slowly exiting their respective tents and going about their business quietly. None of them bold enough to mention what had just happened for fear of Abigail over-hearing.

You stood slowly, knowing people were going to be looking in your direction regardless. They knew where you were going. What your plan was. There was no point in sitting around any longer in an attempt to try and hide it.

You moved towards your horse. Taking your time to saddle up and make sure he/she was ready for the ride before mounting up and spurring them into a trot along the path out of camp.

~~~~

You didn’t have to ride long. Knowing in your heart where John would be you had ridden towards that area, following along the fresh hoof-prints in the loose red dirt.

You turned off the beaten path, your horse whinnying in annoyance at having to walk through the brush. You petted them on the neck, promising a treat for following your direction. You know they couldn’t understand you but smiled non-the-less as they seemed to calm at the idea.

You could have left them hitched to a tree near the main road. But you ran the risk of another gang member noticing them and walking through the forest to find you.

You spotted John and Old Boy up ahead. The large Hungarian Half-bred munching happily on some greenery about 10 metres from the edge of a large cliff overlooking the valley below. John was sitting near the edge. Face in his hands as he contemplated his life thus far, oblivious to your approach.

You hitched Y/HN next to Old Boy and called out softly to alert John to your presence. He jumped slightly. Looking over his shoulder briefly before wiping at his face and letting his hands fall to his lap.

You sat down beside him, placing a familiar hand on his upper back and rubbing small, comforting circles as he glared at the ground in front of him. A large, angry mark flaring up on his cheek where Abigail had hit him.

It had been about 4 months since you’d officially started dating. Four months of absolute hell if you were being honest. But when you were alone like this, in your special spot away from camp, it was absolute bliss.

This specific situation wasn’t ideal. But you had been yearning for some alone time away from prying eyes.

Eyes that seemed to never stop watching. It was taking its toll on you. Making you regret things you shouldn’t be regretting. Questioning things, you didn’t want to be questioning.

Like was he worth it?

John seemed to follow your train of thought. Side-eying you silently as he rubbed at his cheek.

“You can go.” He said weakly. “If you want.” A long exhale following his words as he licked his lips and fell silent once more.

“I just got here.” You laughed, hand falling from its place on his back. You placed it on his thigh, squeezing reassuringly and watching as his jaw tensed. Seemingly gritting his teeth.

“No... I know.” He said softly, struggling to find the words. “I mean… You can leave. If you want to.” He paused, finally turning to look at you and realising his point had not been made. “The Gang.” He clarified. Making your brows shoot upwards in surprise.

He turned back to his hands in his lap and closed his eyes for a moment. You suspected he was waiting for your confirmation on the subject but it didn’t come.

You had been enjoying your time in the Gang up until recently. Having worked hard every day for a week to pull a con on two men you’d met in the saloon nearby. It turned out those men were actually trying to con you as well. When the truth was realised you had all had a good laugh. Dutch and Arthur inviting you to join them for a drink and upon realising you currently didn’t have a stable home, the Gang.

Everything was fantastic for a few months. You felt at home almost instantly. You made new friends, new family. You were welcomed with open arms and you had never felt so secure in your lifetime.

When you’d met John, the chemistry had been instantaneous on your part. Finding him attractive, friendly and useful to boot. You had caught him staring more than once and were relatively sure he returned your feelings. But something was off about the way he acted towards you. He had been skittish. Dancing around your attraction to him and outright avoiding any chance you’d had to be alone. It wasn’t until you’d cornered him after a night of drinking that he finally admitted he did feel something for you as well.

He was very guilty about his admission. Explaining that he was supposed to be trying to work on things with Abigail. He was struggling hard with the feeling that he knew deep down their relationship was a dead-end. Every time they were supposed to try and talk it out it ended in a fight. Abigail becoming increasingly impatient that he wasn’t ready to recommit himself to her.

He had word-vomited his darkest thoughts to you that night. Slurring about how he wanted to run away again and saw no way out. His attraction to you was the straw that broke the camels back. The last nail in the coffin of his resolve to fix things with his wife. He hadn’t meant for it to happen. But that didn’t mean he could ignore it.

He wanted to tell Abigail it was over for good. He wasn’t interested in fixing things and he felt they parented better separately anyway. She was always going on about Jack. What about Jack? How will this affect Jack? He was scared to tell her it wouldn’t. To seem callous towards his son and his feelings. He felt he was a better Father without her hanging over his shoulder.

Somewhere in the middle of his rant he had begun to cry. Head heavy with the drink, he hadn’t been able to stop his usual stoic core from breaking. Mortified by the turn of events he’d tried to pretend as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just spent half an hour rambling his sorrows to a relative stranger.

He shut himself down. Locking away his feelings and refusing to acknowledge them even after you’d both bitten the bullet and started to date a few weeks later.

He’d had to tell Abigail first. Before he could in good conscience being seeing you in earnest. He had been too afraid before your drunken talk. Terrified of ending things and risking everything he had for the sake of your rejection. But after the conformation he had been looking for, he’d found a renewed sense of courage. Letting Abigail know he was done with their romantic relationship but that didn’t mean he was walking away from Jack.

To say she hadn’t taken it well was an understatement. You had learnt swear words that day that you hadn’t previously known the existence of. She had been absolutely furious at your betrayal. Having gotten along fine before that. She’d never expected that you would pounce on her husband.

You’d both argued that had they been an item you would never had made your feelings known. But as John was for all intents and purposes, single, you felt it was alright to proposition him.

You understood where she was coming from. She had been blindsided by your interest in him. Having had it set in her mind that they would work things out and become that happy family she had always dreamed she’d have.

For the most part, the gang agreed with your argument. Tiptoeing around Abigail and letting you know that you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t until rumour started to spread about the night you confessed your feelings that things started to take a turn. It spread like wildfire and although you were both pretty confident of its origin, you couldn’t prove it anymore than you could prove you hadn’t slept together that night.

The general consensus of ‘You’ve done no wrong’ quickly changed to ‘How could you do that?’ after rumour spread that you had slept together before John had officially ended things with Abigail.

Looking back, you feared you had worsened the situation by buying into it. Telling people that even if it were true, they were still separated; had led people to believe it was true. You regretted it, more for John’s sake than your own. You thought of these people as your family. But these people were his family and had been for over half his life. The damage done by the entire situation was breaking him. You could see it in the way he looked at you. Hear it in the way he spoke.

You hated to admit it. But this morning part of you was worried you would find Old Boy hitched on the edge of the cliff and John’s mangled body at the bottom.

You looked at him now, your own teeth clenched as you tried to find the words to let him know you weren’t going anywhere. That he hadn’t risked all for nothing. You would stay and you would listen. You would wear the criticism and backhanded comments with an air of pride as long as you were making him happy.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” You whispered, shuffling closer so your sides were touching.

John jumped at the initial contact, head snapping back to look at where you’d bumped against him before he seemed to relax, turning his gaze back to the ground.

“I understand if you want to, deep down.” He mumbled, not really moving his lips as he spoke. “You wouldn’t be the only one.”

You winced at that, hand on his thigh squeezing once more as you leaned in to kiss the mark on his cheek. He jolted away out of reflex before settling himself down and letting his forehead rest on your own cheek.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re feelin’?” You asked quietly, hand coming up to run through his long hair and massage his scalp. He moaned against you softly, shuddering at the feeling.

“Not feelin’ anything.” He said against your shoulder, eyes staring blankly at the stitching on your collar.

Your lips tightened, eyes flicking towards him as you removed your hand from his head and waited. It took a few seconds before he realised you were done. Sitting back to look at you sadly as you raised your brows in question.

“What?” He asked, looking away. You could tell he wanted you to drop it. To just pretend it hadn’t happened and move on like you’d done that first night.

“What was all that about?” You asked, gesturing back in the direction of camp, his eyes rolling at your question.

“Just drop it will ya?” He asked, annoyance in his tone as he stared out over the valley. The sun now having fully risen above the mountain was tingling their skin with warmth as it worked to rise enough to shade them under the trees above.

You stayed silent, feeling the mood shift. His demeanour hadn’t changed but something was different. You didn’t want to push him too hard, lest he fling himself over the cliff in front of your eyes.

“It’s just…” He started, crossing his arms and huffing indignantly. “It’s… dumb.” He said weakly, trailing off from his train of thought.

You watched on sadly. Brows furrowed as he sniffed audibly. Shoulders shuddering momentarily before he managed to compose himself enough to stop them.

His eyes were squinting in the morning sun. Face scrunched into a scowl as he blinked back his emotions.

He obviously wanted to talk. Not sure how to go about it or if he would be judged for what he was going to say. Perhaps he stopped himself because he felt you would be offended by his statement.

“I’m sure it’s not.” You probed. Deciding that if he truly wanted you to drop it, he wouldn’t have spoken.

“I’m just…” He paused, questioning if he really had the emotional stability he would need to talk about his feelings without breaking down. He swallowed, taking a calming breath before continuing. “I’m really trying.” He said simply, voice cracking on the last word as his face crumpled and he brought his hands up to cover it.

You made a sound of acknowledgement, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing his opposite arm tightly.

He let you, too busy in his own mind to push you away. He admonished himself harshly for thinking he could vent a little bit without opening the gates entirely. It had been such a long time since he’d cried, properly cried and not just let a few tears slip when he was heavy on the drink. He’d been holding in years of unpleasant feelings and lately he’d been struggling. Feeling particularly vulnerable at inopportune times and taking playful jabs way too seriously.

He choked on his words of apology. Mumbling nonsense into his palms as he finally began to let it all out.

“I… I been tryin’ so…” He paused, stumbling over his wording. “So… hard.” He stuttered, shaking uncontrollably under the weight of his own words.

You shushed him lightly, hand squeezing soothingly as you gently pulled him towards you. He let himself fall, head resting on your chest as he huffed quietly, his breathing uneven.

Once he was resting his weight against you, you moved your hand to his back. Running the pads of your fingers lightly up and down his spine and encouraging him to breath in the same slow pattern. He obliged, slowly but surely calming as his breathing began to return to normal. His leaking eyes burning as he struggled to stop the flow of tears he regretted letting go of.

“I don’t… I don…” He stammered, cutting himself off. He already felt so damn weak. Nerves grating on the feeling of helplessness.

You shook your head, other hand coming up to run through his hair once more and then down against his unmarred cheek. You pressed lightly, encouraging him to look at you. He reluctantly did so, red rimmed eyes sheepishly averting as he caught your look of sympathy.

You could tell he was on the verge of shutting down. Composing himself and bottling it all back up until the next time, whenever that may be. All of the thoughts and feelings would come back twice as hard. Knocking against him when he least expects it and finally pushing him off the precipice he had so delicately been balancing on since long before you met him.

Since Jack was born.

“It’s okay.” You cooed, holding him tighter in an effort to make him feel safe. “You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” You whispered gently, the feeling of him slowly coming undone almost physical as his dam-wall broke apart in your arms.

He stuttered uncontrollably, breath hitching almost constantly as he tried his hardest to tell you how he was feeling. Words broken and slurred as he let you in on his darkest thoughts. His deepest fears.

“I been tryin’ so… so hard with Jack.” He cried against your breast. Pressing himself closer to you as if he could hide from your judgement. “She… she told me… I…” He stammered, cutting himself off as deep, wracking sobs overtook his ability to speak.

You shushed him lightly. Making sure to let him know it wasn’t his words you were trying to stop. You wanted to hear it all. Wanted him to let it out and get it in the open so you could calm his tears and all his insecurities.

He was mortified, you could tell by the way he kept trying to hide his face. Wiping at it irately as if being annoyed with his tears would stop them.

You supposed you would be embarrassed too if the situations were reversed. Your relationship was relatively new, even if it had already felt like a lifetime. He was scared of your judgement. Afraid you were going to leave once you’d seen what a wimp he really was.

You reassured him once more that you weren’t leaving. Making it clear you were staying put without his prompting. Hoping it felt more genuine that way.

He seemed to calm down a little after you spoke. Sobs turning to uneven breaths as you resumed running your hand up and down his back at a slow pace.

He followed your movements, long soothing breaths making him weary after his emotional collapse.

“She told me… I weren’t tryin’ hard enough with Jack.” He said finally, nearly getting through the entire sentence without a hitch. His arms wrapped around your waist loosened, falling slack as he took a deep breath and pushed himself to sit up.

You took in his dishevelled appearance, feeling a pang to your heart at the sight of him. Your hand came up automatically to brush his hair behind his ear as he turned to look at you with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.

“She said I ruined his life breakin’ up his parents. Said he’d never be happy again.” He elaborated, barely above a whisper. You smiled sympathetically, hands cupping his cheeks as you leaned into brush your lips against his. He let you, not closing his eyes as you kissed him. Wanting to see as well as feel you.

“You know that ain’t true.” You said against his lips, thumbs swiping under his eyes to wipe away some of the wetness. He paused, nodding hesitantly as if he didn’t really believe it but felt he had to agree for your sake.

“She hurt my feelings.” He admitted quietly. Voice so small you weren’t sure you had actually heard it. He looked away, pulling his face from your grip and you knew then that he had said what you thought. “I been tryin’ so hard.” He repeated for the third time. Driving home how much she had hurt him with her words and making your heart ache. You felt for him. You knew too well the pain of truly trying your hardest only to be shot down and slapped with a punishment for not putting in any effort.

“I know. I’ve seen you.” You stated as a conformation, smiling fondly to yourself at the memory him playing swords with Jack earlier in the week.

“I don’t know how to fix it.” He said simply, hands ringing together unconsciously as he worried his lip between his teeth. You frowned, taking his hands in yours and turning to face him fully.

“You don’t need to.” You stated firmly. “Jack is happy. Ain’t you heard the phrase don’t fix what’s not broke?”

John’s lips twitched at your wording. It was one of the things he loved about you. Your subtle wording that changed a common phrase ever so slightly to your own version.

“I meant… with Abigail.” He shifted uncomfortably at the admission. Your hands letting go of his as you looked at him in surprise. He grabbed at your hands frantically. Scrambling to correct himself and clarify. “Not… romantically.” He pressed. “Just… in general.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief. Closing your eyes for a second before focusing on his statement.

“You don’t have to hon.” You said softly. “You’ve been tryin’. I’ve seen you. It’s up to her to make things civil.”

John furrowed his brows. That didn’t seem quite right. He was sure it was his responsibility. She had made that clear from the start.

“I ended it. I hurt her.” He said blatantly, his tone questioning. “I have to make things right.”

You sighed, squeezing his hands tightly as you replied.

“There will be no right as long as you’re with me.”

John looked at you for a long moment. Eyes flicking between yours as he waited for more.

You watched as the realisation hit him. His red rimmed eyes beginning to water as he tensed his jaw once more. He stared at you, hurt plain as day across his face as he assessed your meaning.

“Can you live with that?” He asked, voice thick with emotion.

You took a moment to reflect. Really think about what you were going to say before you responded. To make sure you really meant it.

“Yes.” You smiled. “You’re worth it.” You said, taking his face in your hands once more and pressing your forehead against his.

You felt his cheeks rise. Teeth bumping against your lips as he attempted to kiss you through his smile.

“So are you.” He whispered.

End

~~~

PLEASE let me know if you liked it/What you liked! I am dying for comments on my fics and it’s to the point where I’m not above begging for feedback.

#John Marston x fem reader #john marston x F!Reader #fem reader #F!Reader #john marston #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #fanfic #fan fiction #reader #reader fic #angst #hurt/comfort #john marston/fem reader #john marston/F!Reader

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voidsettle · 6 years ago

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Summer Junction: Small Balkans

May-June 2018

Chasing the last-August experience of a region-wide country run, we started planning for our next trip, something southern this time. We wanted some history from the old towns, scorching heat of the sun over bright sea, and long vistas of the mountain ranges. Montenegro became the basis for the plan. But why settle for one if you can have more? We were going wild.

Sveti Stefan, Budva, Montenegro

Full 2 weeks were spent in careful preparations. We were throwing in Hungary and Serbia before and Bosnia and Croatia in between. The original plan grew from a tour around one country to five, some of them added (almost) against our wills. We had to fly through Budapest - our airlines had rather cheap tickets to the destination city. From there, it was hit-and-miss travel by every kind of transport you'd imagine. Bus? Plenty. Car? Repeat the hitchhiking experience. Train? Make it two.

First Stop: Budapest, Hungary

Fisherman's Bastion over Danube, Budapest, Hungary

Arriving at Budapest, we had several hours - it was but a short stop before the night train to Serbia.

Whenever I'm in Budapest, there are three things I'm looking forward to: enjoy the vista from the Fisherman's Bastion, visit Szechenyi Thermal Baths and have a taste of Hungarian Tokay.

Last time when I was in Hungary, I got lost somewhere in Pest and ended up deciphering another tourist's instructions in German (which was mutually poor but delivered fun experience nonetheless). This time I finally got to creating a mind map of major sites and attractions. No that I can definitely find Budapest Opera if left at the central train station, but a can guess the general direction at the very least.

Fun at Fisherman's Bastion

Besides, the good thing about traveling on your own (without a guide and a group of whiny tourists tagging along) is that you achieve the level of liberating enlightenment never to be experienced in your own country. It usually takes several days for this skill to kick in. I was all the more surprised as this expanding feeling bubbled in my chest as I descended into Budapest subway.

While in Budapest, you absolutely must visit one of the thermal baths, the relaxing and soothing experience best after a long walk around the city.

I personally prefer the ones in Szechenyi Park because of the sheer scope and variety - inside the pavilions, under the open sky, cooling, warm, hot - whatever you heart desires. Just visiting one by one will take around 2 hours, so better come with some spare time on your hands.

I must say, the Hungarian capital was truly underestimated by me. I definitely plan on going back and add a couple more to-dos to my usual itinerary: visit the Opera, roam through the halls of National Gallery, have a slow stroll on Margaret Island, and taste much more local delicacies.

What to see:

Fisherman's Bastion

Matthias Church

Gellert Hill and the Citadella

Hungarian National Gallery at Buda Castle

Hungarian Parliament

Szechenyi Chain Bridge and its tongueless lions

Margit hid (Margaret Bridge)

Ruins of the Fransciscan church on Margaret Island

Szechenyi Thermal Bath

What to eat:

goulash (thick paprika soup/stew)

libamaj (goose liver)

fried duck

chicken paprikas with dumplings

halaszle (fish soup with paprika and tomato sauce)

langos (basically fast food)

kremes (cream cake)

somloi galuska (biscuit with custard)

chestnut puree

kurtoskalacs (vanilla and citrus pastry)

Tokay wine

palinka (fruit brandy)

Second Stop: Beograd, Serbia

View on the junction of Sava and Danube from Belgrade Fortress, Beograd, Serbia

First things first, a cry of pain to Serbian trains: they are immensely, unbelievably hideous. But such fun!

Truly, after Ukrainian railroads I believed I've seen it all - oh how thoroughly mistaken I was! The compartments are shabby and worn out, nearly everything is torn or broken, just on this side of usability, the wall facing the passageway is made of plexiglass delivering a (not so) beautiful view of your sleeping face to anyone happening to pass by. And the cherry on the top: they have four (which is standard for Ukraine and, I believe, most of Eastern European countries) and six (?!) seat compartments. Preordering the tickets, we were so curious that we couldn't miss the opportunity to travel in a six seat one (aside from it being slightly cheaper).

Three floors of the six-seat compartment on a Serbian train from Budapest

What it meant on practice was literally three floors. The first of which basically was a seat standing on the floor (when sitting, my knees were before my eyes), and the last had only around half a meter to the ceiling. Basically no storage place. It was truly scary sleeping both on and underneath these seats.

I keep wondering if we got lucky that the two middle seats were (obviously) non-functional, so we only had two other poor unfortunate souls to share this sorry excuse of a compartment. On the other hand, the experience was so bizarre and unique that I couldn't keep myself from laughing hysterically. Not sure any of my companions comprehended my mirth.

On the brighter note, Beograd is one of those cities that don't care the least for you as a tourist. One day is pretty much enough to see everything there is to see, the major attraction being, of course, the Belgrade Fortress with its rich history protecting the city (thus the clash of architectural styles), vast park area below leading your eye to the joint of Danube and Sava rivers, and quaint winding passages that lead to different courts, half-hidden castles and fortifications.

Beograd Fortress

Lost somewhere in its area, I caught this wonderfully serene moment of pre-summer heat hammering down the irregular stone-paved trails, deafening crickets and the dizzying smell of grasses and red poppies (that are all over the place, magical beyond belief).

The city shows itself. Walking from the fortress down Knez Mihailova Street, you find yourself at the National Museum. A little to the South, ruins left after the NATO bombing stay proud in the middle of the bustling city. And then there's the Cathedral of Saint Sava, quite the monumental construction to mark the grand aspirations of Serbian nation. It is one of the largest churches in the world, and one that is still being built, starting in 1935. That tells you something about the nation.

If you don't have much time, take the round tram #2 to see all the major sites in city center. You'll miss something, for sure, but it's a good way to start your acquaintance.

And don't forget to get yourself familiar with the people - they're quite the friendly type. My friend's shoe tore at the most inopportune moment, and we were looking for something that'd help keep it together. Asking in one of the shops where we could buy glue, the owner not only told us how to get to the closest place but he personally walked us there. At yet another instance, a woman we asked directions from spent quite some time (and probably missed her bus) to make sure we know how to get to the Cathedral of Saint Sava. Using Serbian and gestures; pure incomprehensible joy.

What to see:

Beograd Fortress

Knez Mihailova Street and the pedestrian area

Ruins of Yugoslav General Staff from 1999 NATO bombing

National Museum (with one if not the largest Impressionist painting collection in Europe)

St Mark's Church

Cathedral of Saint Sava

Church of Saint Alexander of Neva

What to eat:

cevapi/cevapcici (regional delicacy, variations met throughout the Balkans - basically grilled meat in flatbread with chopped onions)

kajmak (cheese)

Karadordeva snicla (meat stuffed with cheese)

sarma (meat rolled in sour cabbage leaves)

musaka (potato and meat casserole)

ajvar (vegetable side dish)

pljeskavica (meat in flatbread)

cvarci (fried pork rinds)

rakia (fruit brandy; do you start noticing patterns yet?)

Third Stop: Underground Train and First Glance at Montenegro

Ruins of Bedem Castle, Niksic, Montenegro

Unlike traditional tourists, we decided to take a whole day off sight-seeing to indulge in traveling at its utmost. Moreover, the whole detour to Serbia was solely for the purpose of catching this train: Beograd, Serbia to Bar, Montenegro. We wanted to get our hands and eyes on mountains as soon as possible - and boy, did we get our fill!

If you get a chance to travel from Belgrade to Montenegro by train, by all means do. You won't regret a moment of it.

Train Beograd, Serbia - Bar, Montenegro

Actually, before the trip, I had my doubts: spending the whole day sitting in train, with nothing but observing natural beauties for over 10 hours; I thought we'd be bored to death by the end of hour 2. I didn't factor in the underground traveling - all in all, after spending the lion's share of the trip counting and noting the time, our route amounted to nearly 200 tunnels and almost hour and a half under ground in Serbia alone.

The longest tunnel is nearly 5 km long. I even counted the speed of underground travel - approximately 15 mph, a lower speed due to the danger of high mountain travel. Curiously, in Montenegro, the speed in tunnels was considerably higher, even though we didn't manage to uncover the reason.

One more thing to note is the considerably higher quality of Montenegrin trains. Compared to that taking us from Budapest to Beograd, this was nearly comfortable. I don't know the reason, but air-con was only available in one carriage (coincidentally, the one we were in), and it wasn't shying away from its function. I was freezing by the end of hour one, and went out in search of something to warm up. In other carriages, people were clustering by the windows, catching air, vistas and smoking.

Smoking right under the sign 'Smoking prohibited'

Thus, I anchored myself in the buffet car (calling it 'restaurant' wouldn't do; they offered no food) with a permanent cup of coffee before me. This was my little yet unforgettable time - the amalgam of beautiful mountain ranges flashing by outside the window, hot coffee and a cozy book that I prudently brought along. Light chatter of the trainmen fought with cigarette smoke in the air, the rattling of the train creating snug and quaint ambiance.

We arrived to Podgorica after sunset. The first glance at Montenegro delivered the unique feeling of living on the roofs - the room we were staying at had an exit right near the red shingles of the neighbor house. While I was having cup of tea before bed, a woman casually strolled on top of the roof nearby to hang the clothes to dry.

Despite the status of the capital and the largest city in Montenegro, Podgorica more often that not creates the feeling of a medium-sized deeply provincial town. Hidden behind the mountainous hills, far from the seaside, the city doesn't enjoy the influx of tourists during summer seasons but also boasts a warmer climate in winter.

And so we followed the route inland, leaving the Adriatic for the last part of our journey. My friend, the terrifyingly stubborn woman, woke me up at 4 in the morning to catch the train to Ostrog.

If I was to advise for Ostrog, I would not. And I'm unlikely to repeat the experience in the future.

Ostrog, Montenegro

That was one of a hellish trip for me - high up in the mountain, hides a Christian Orthodox church shrine. Sounds better than it is in reality. Well. It does look nice, I must admit - the chambers cut out in the sheer rock and all. But I'd argue not worth the effort put in.

Given I'm not religious and a late-sleeper, the way up the mountain trail early in the morning thoroughly irritated me. My mood didn't better at seeing how the 'religious' folks arrived right by the entrance in buses and cars - the hypocritical bastards. I guess we had a fight with my friend, who is much more loyal toward Christian religion and keeping faces. The things we give away.

Besides, the timing was really off - the vistas from high up the mountain are pretty bland early in the morning. The angle of the sun was just not right. The whole place in the morning looks like a refugee camp, with dirty mats and plaids for those willing to spend the chilly night on the monastery grounds. The whole place feels weird.

Camping outside the Ostrog monastery, 900 m above sea level

I was much more cheerful as we were leaving the damned-- I mean, sacred place.

By this time, we were at our basic premise: high in the mountains, half an hour by car to our interim destination, several hours before anything goes the way we need, and a choice between astonishingly hideous weather and heavy backpacks. There was that trip to Crete where we were basically blind and death from the wind, cursing the moment we decided to go through the mountains on foot.

Our fallback is hitch-hiking fellow travelers to take pity on us and give us a lift. This time, we were picked up by a nice couple from Belarus who brought us right to Niksic. Unexpectedly, the city appeared more interesting than we imagined. I loved the ruins of the local castle. At one moment, the atmosphere was distinctly medieval - the lush green pastures outside the half-preserved walls, the grey grim limestone and delicate, full of color flowerheads taking over the reign in this place. That glimpse of centuries long gone sent a shiver down my spine, and was gone as fast as it appeared.

Bedem castle, Niksic

Today, the castle ruins serve as a concert hall for the local youth - naturally, the larger part of the stone is covered in graffiti, and we've met a couple of sturdy young boys at the foot of the castle, unloading what looked like heavy sound equipment boxes. We had to sacrifice half a bottle of water as an entrance fee.

After an ice-cream and a meditation over the neat and apparently old cemetery, we headed for the bus station to catch a ride to Sarajevo. And, oh, did our adventures only begin!

The same way as I was rumbling about Serbian trains - one should be aware of the buses in Montenegro.

The worst part? Not enough seats. The bus we got was tiny, more like a minivan. We were forced to take our bags inside and to stand the whole way to Bosnia (2.5 hours to the border, same to Sarajevo). I wasn't even trying, sitting down in the aisle as soon as we started off. I got through the first hour alright, catching a casual conversation with a guy from Albania sitting beside me. And then the air stopped circulating (at least where I was sitting), and I don't remember most of the way to the Bosnian border.

I got a seat somewhere along the ride. When we arrived in Sarajevo, I was so tired that it was nearly blissful - I don't think I was the slightest bit worried when we got the message from our to-be host that we couldn't be accommodated at their place that night. Fortunately, we caught decent free Wi-Fi in the middle of the Bosnian capital. Last thing I actually remember from that day is reconciling with my friend over the religious matters and thinking before falling into darkness that nothing could surprise me during this trip anymore.

Descending the Ostrog mountain, panorama dipped in morning haze

What to see:

Sahat kula, Podgorica (clock tower)

Ostrog (take this up at your own risk, and, by gods, do not go on foot, you won't be getting out)

Church of Sv Vasilje, Niksic

Bedem castle, Niksic

What to eat:

prshut (dried meat)

cevapcici

pleskavitsa/roshtil (fried and grilled meat)

sopsky salat (vegetable salad with cheese)

ribla chorba (fish soup)

Negusi cheese

meat burek with yogurt

sarma

Vranac (red wine) and Krstach (white wine)

Niksicko beer

desserts: baklava, tulumba, shampita, vanilice, padobranci

Fourth Stop: Two Pearls of Bosnia and Herzegovina

Breakfast at panorama over Sarajevo, Ispod Grada, Bosnia and Herzegovina

For Sarajevo, I was really hyped even before the trip. The primary reason was, of course, the history of this place. Point of focus: the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie triggering World War I. Time: June 28, 1914, 10 in the morning. Place: Latin Bridge.

As I was fangirling over the epic episode, I should also mention the sheer delight of this city. Sarajevo is filled with the distinctly Turkish ambiance (visiting Istanbul three months prior, I could not ignore the similarities between the two cities) - and yet it's a European capital. It has the tiny street teahouses with old men chatting and smoking their days away, muezzins shouting early in the morning, heavily clothed women and bubbling Eastern bazaars. But it also has eclectic architecture, Mediterranean cobbled streets flowing down the mountainous hills to the Miljacka river, and 15th to 19th century Christian churches. Starting at the White Fortress crowning the city, we roamed down the winding streets to the river bank, than had a real breakfast in the labyrinth of Bascarsija (I'm ashamed I still cannot pronounce that) and then made a stop for coffee at Cajdzinica Dzirlo.

Cajdzinica Dzirlo and it's host

I don't usually give personal opinions of places to eat - they change to fast, and TripAdvisor still does it better. But this one is the number and a renown site of its own - people who know Sarajevo will surely know this little teahouse in the city center. Take all the best things you want during your tea/coffee time, and you get this place.

Splendid drinks with plenty of choice. Ambiance and atmosphere supported by great view. Perfect location near Bascarsija. Most welcoming, authentic and fun host.

You feel as the dearest of friends not a random tourist. This place is a must for a perfect trip. I'd come back to Bosnia just to visit here again.

Besides, it's here that I fell in love with Bosnian coffee (a direct take-away from the Turkish coffee of the Ottoman Empire). I was already fond of the Turkish way to drink black thick coffee. In Bosnia, it is served with a sweet refreshing sherbet (ideally; more commonly, it's a glass of cold water) and a bite of Turkish delight on the side - perfect combination for a hot day.

As a side attraction, I learned how to serve and drink Bosnian coffee. Coffee is made in cezve and served along with another cezve of hot water. First comes adding the water to the coffee and some light stirring. Then coffee creme is carefully gathered from the top and put in the kahve finjani, a tiny porcelain cup in a metal stand. Coffee is poured in afterwards, resulting in a cup of strong, fragrant and relaxing marvel. A sip of coffee is alternated with a gulp of sherbet - I don't think I ever had a better drink.

Combined with the elevated view of the city center and the flocks of pigeons pirouetting around the roofs, this was the experience that ultimately summed up Sarajevo and this whole vacation for me. Yet the Bosnian adventures continued. Walking around the city and gaping at the listed attractions, we were caught in a dreadful storm. It rolled down the mountain tops in low black clouds, rumbling and growling as a wild animal and then pouring down in ice beads the size of a fingernail.

Latin Bridge before the storm ensued

Me and my friend, we have this weird thing we do on the photos, arms and legs spread around in a semblance of a six-pointed star. We do that once per every new city we visit, and, due to the plan, Latin Bridge was the designated site for Sarajevo. We failed spectacularly though, taking cover from the hailstorm on the tram stop for nearly half an hour.

As the storm subsided and turned into regular heavy rain, we plodded through the streets, knee-deep in murky, chalky, coffee-and-milk colored water, ultimately happy. The traffic was hideous, we missed our train, wet head to toe (I literally poured water out of my shoes) - yet I don't remember a better time from this trip. Besides, we caught the best cevapcici near the bus station - and they were prepared lighting-fast, we were shocked at the speed. Sitting in the bus (finally comfortable) taking us to Mostar, we were languidly enjoying the slack feeling of being prepared for anything coming our way.

Mostar old town and Stari most, view from the minaret of Koski Mehmed Pasina mosque

If you get a chance to walk around Mostar at nighttime, enjoy the lightwork, the cozy streets and the coolness of the evenings near Neretva.

Compared to Sarajevo, Mostar is tiny, one of those exclusively tourist destinations that have one major attraction, a couple of minor sites and plenty of ambiance beckoning huge crowds year after year. In a way, it resembles Kazimierz Dolny but with the whimsical quirk of Turkish and Southern European minutiae framing the singular character of the town.

Naturally, the crowds flock on and around the Old bridge, the main site of Mostar. As for me, the narrow painfully cobbled streets (do try to wear shoes with thicker soles) outcharmed the bridge.

Neretva river and panorama of Mostar from Koski Mehmed Pasina mosque's minaret

There is a choice of cozy hidden gems: the Crooked bridge is less famous but instead drowning in greenery. The beach under the Old bridge gives the ability to dip your feet into Neretva (the water is freezing, we nearly got cramps while hastily taking photos - but it's clear and wonderfully refreshing under the blazing sun). The garden of the Koski Mehmed Pasina mosque offers enchantingly picturesque view of the river and small houses under red roofs, transforming the town into an artist's paradise.

It's also possible to get up the minaret of Koski Mehmed Pasina mosque, an activity I believed to be forbidden for non-muezzins, non-Muslims and (even more so) females. The spinning stairs inside the minaret are entertainingly narrow, the balcony on top offers a grand view. And the mere fact of being in a half-prohibited place was enough to pleasantly tickle the nerves and positively reinforce the experience.

What to see in Sarajevo:

Bljela tabija (White fortress)

Zuta tabija (Yellow fortress)

City Hall

Latin Bridge

Bascarsija

Sebilj

Old Orthodox Church

Cathedral of Jesus' Heart

Orthodox Cathedral

Gazi Husrev Bey' Mosque and Bezistan

Taslihan

Lunar clock

Old Synagogue (Museum of the Jews of Bosnia and Herzegovina)

What to see in Mostar:

Stari most (Old bridge)

Crooked bridge

Koski Mehmed Pasina dzamija

Karadoz-begova dzamija

Mostar Peace Bell tower

What to eat:

cevapi

meat under sac (veal or lamb cooked under special lid)

cufte (meatballs)

duvec (vegetable stew)

drasak (pea stew)

ajvar

somun (flatbread)

ustipci (fried dough balls)

Bosnian coffee (and I cannot stress this enough!)

salep

serbe (sherbet)

ajran (salty yogurt drink)

Fifth Step: Dubrovnik, Croatia

The walls of Dubrovnik, Croatia

Dubrovnik is another historic town heavy on tourists, and for a good reason: it's gorgeous. The beauty of city walls unparalleled, Dubrovnik is truly the pearl of the Adriatic sea. The preservation of the old town is worthy of praise, on par with old Tallinn. But that's it - talking about Croatian people, they're quite the unwelcoming type.

To get from Mostar to Dubrovnik, one has to cross the Bosnian-Croatian border tree times. In and out, and in again, and all in just under two hours. And the border guards stamp your passport every time.

The tension of Croatians runs high. From our hostess to most waiters, locals don't seem friendly at all - a surprising fact given the contagious amicability of Bosnians. The prices in Dubrovnik are also considerably higher while coffee is considerably worse (although, to tell the truth, after Bosnia, every cup of coffee I had was so-so at best).

Yet, despite the ranting, Dubrovnik truly is a city with its own character. The first impression was: stairs. The whole Balkan region is like that, built on the hillsides, streets narrow and oftentimes only suited for pedestrians. Dubrovnik is the quintessence of the concept. The hills it is built on are indented with stair-streets, and the road for cars winds and twists, curling in circles through the city like a giant snake. To get from point A to point B, it is easier to clamber up the stairs. Besides, one gets all the best views that way.

Stradun with the belltower of Franciscan monastery, Dubrovnik, Croatia

The old town is enchanting. The narrow streets tightened in the restrains of smooth stone are cool and soothing at sunset. Dark green shutters emphasize the rhythm of the delicate houses. Our early evening in Dubrovnik was drowning in pinkish haze, enchanting and amorous, and the screams of seagulls cluttered up the slowly darkening skies.

The city was built by Venetians, the fact completely obvious to anyone remotely acquainted with architecture. Lacking the tell-tale canals, Dubrovnik instead becomes the labyrinth of tiny streets, a photographer's wet dream at every turn. Stradun, the major street, is full of tourists, day or night, but the back streets are shatteringly quiet as the night falls, almost to the point of feeling haunted.

Panorama of Dubrovnik from city walls: red roofs and Franciscan belltower

The city transforms by the daytime. The blistering sun reflects from the smooth surfaces of the white stone and hits you from all sides: it truly is scorchingly hot. The city walls bring no relief; even the sea breeze is but a short refreshment.

A hat, a bottle of water and a sunscreen are obligatory items on the walls of Dubrovnik anytime from April to October.

But oh the vistas the minute details! Walking around the whole old town and observing how it was built and how it lives from the height of the walls, one is immersed in the history of the relationship between Venetians, this great seapower, and the Balkan region, the focus of their constant conflicts with the Turks. Catching glimpses of inner yards and narrow streets, it is easy to imagine how people lived several centuries ago - as it seems nothing changed much.

The city walls are full of tourists, naturally; a different experience is provided by fort Lovrijenac to the west of the city. Not only it gives a different perspective of Dubrovnik, but is also more spacious as a fortification and is closer to nature (the gorge under its walls lets the imagination run free and create hidden grottoes and caves full of wonders, treasures and sunken ships).

Dubrovnik is surely a city one must visit. If time permits, it's good to have a swim in the Adriatic sea, enjoy the famous Croatian beaches, get up to the fortress on the top of the hill to catch a glimpse of the whole city, and indulge in the rich history. But overstaying your visit is not wise when the much more hospitable Montenegro is just in a couple of hours drive down the coast.

What to see:

old town

St Francis church

Large Onofrio's Fountain

Dominican monastery

crkva Svetog Spasa

Sponza Palace

Orlandov stup

Mala Onofrijeva Fontana

Rector's Palace

St Blaise church

St Ignatius church

Church of the Annunciation

city walls (Bokar, Minceta, Saint John, Buza gate)

Fort Lovrijenac

Lokrum island

Carska tvrdava

What to eat:

raznjici (meat skewers)

zagrebacki odrezak (stuffed veal steak)

lignje (squid)

salata od hobotnice (octopus salad)

crni rizot (cuttlefish risotto)

manestra (soup)

zganci (polenta)

palacinke (crepes)

rozata (creme cake)

Malvazija (dessert wine)

Coming Back to Montenegro

Crkva Svete Klare/Svetog Antuna, Kotor, Montenegro

Planning the trip, it's important to have calm days mixed into the mass of those full of mad activity.

Herceg Novi was our first in the row of more relaxing experiences, a good choice with its lush green streets cascading down the mountain to the Bay of Kotor and the quaint atmosphere of a pre-tourist season. A comparatively young city, it still bears the scars of Venetian dominion, flaunting the old fortress, dark and grey and heavy over the light touristy air of the coast resort.

According to the newly established tradition, I got a day off the trip to catch up with my friend from work who moved with his family to Herceg Novi couple of years back. The rest of the two days were submerged in a daze of slow breakfasts, warm days that tasted like strawberry and tepid waves licking away the tiredness of the feet.

What to see in Herceg Novi:

Citadella

Forte Mare

Crkva Svetog Jeronima

Church of Holy Archangel Michael

Sahat Kula

Kanli Kula

Kotor old town, view of the Fort of St John

For the next day, we picked our speed up, cramming in Kotor and Tivat, and a circle trip around the Bay of Kotor. I still have my regrets about not being able to make a stop in Perast and pay respects to the famous island Our Lady of the Rocks.

The good thing about Kotor is that, although there are many things to see, they are all clustered together (like old well-preserved towns tend to do) - you only need a day to see it all. The only exception is the Fort of St John - probably the main attraction of Kotor, not counting the old town itself.

The streets of Kotor old town

The popularity of this place is primarily based on three things: its age (including historic and militaristic value starting from VI century), the magnificent views it gives from the top over the Bay of Kotor, and its sheer size (it's one of the most significant fortifications of this type in Europe, with 4.5 km long walls).

Kotor may lack the posh sumptuousness of Dubrovnik and the green curvy coziness of Mostar. Yet it is definitely its own thing, a small intimately built town in the clutches of grey stone with sultry air of tiny squares with towering churches and cathedrals, with palaces on every step - Kotor feels like a museum.

What to see in Kotor:

Gurdic Gate (South Gate)

St Triphun's Cathedral

The Drago Palace

The Pima Palace

The Buca Palace

The Palace Bizanti

The Sea Gate with the Tower of Town Guards

The Clock Tower

Duke Palace

Arsenal Building

Crkva Svete Klare/Svetog Antuna

Crkva Sv Nikole

Crkva Sv Luke

Crkva Sv Mihaila

Karampana

The Grgurina Palace

Crkva Sv Ana

Svete Marije Koledate

North Gate

Kotor's Castle of San Giovanni

Church of Our Lady of Health

Fort of St John

Dancing Girl Statue with a view of Old Budva

We spent the night in nearby Tivat - not a historic but resort destination, a city full of luxurious hotels and yachts shimmering off the competing degrees of splendor. As the high season didn't start yet, the city was immersed in a sluggish slumber.

Budva, on the other hand, as the major tourist hub of Montenegro, was boiling and lively, offering a bit of everything. UNESCO-protected old town neighbored fashionable boutiques and giant malls. Quay was full of restaurants offering meats and seafoods of all sorts, narrow streets of old town offered cozier cafes and confectioneries. The beaches, both in-town and on the close-by 'Hawaii' island, beckon with warm transparent water and hidden caverns ready for relaxation or exploration.

The old town of Budva is comparatively small. Half a day is enough to explore it - but the best part about it is the many cozy back streets, dead ends and cubbies that tell their small stories and beckon you to rest and observe the world around.

There is a small street that always has cats pooling under one of the windows - obviously a feeding place. An inner yard of Citadela features a cafe under bright white umbrellas - the perfect combination with old stone, deep blue sea and the green vines to create the true Mediterranean feel. One of the buildings has an old library turned posh restaurant with displayed models of the famous ships.

I've found my favorite cozy little place on the thick wall of the old town near Ricardova Glava beach. A small square surrounded by churches used for concerts and often featuring weddings. A quaint corner of the earth that caught my attention as a street musician was lightly plucking guitar strings for a mellow, sweetly sorrowful melody interweaving into the song of the wind. I go back in my memories to that place - hot crude stone behind my back, sun and seagulls over my head, and fresh warm breeze in my face.

The second day was completely dedicated to exploring the beaches of Budva. The beaches of the tourist zone are sandy; the old town has pebbles.

One of the beaches on Hawaii island, Budva

Seeing Ricardova Glava for the first time, the scene catches one off guard: people are bathing in the clear waters of Adriatic sea right under the rough walls of the church dating back to 840 AD built of darkened pebbles and whitened mortar, battered by time and seawinds. The narrow walk from Ricardova Glava to Mogren beaches conceals a set of hidden gems - from Dancing Girl Statue (one of the symbols of Budva) to the rugged, indented mountain walls on one side and the rocky coast on the other, open-air vista of the sea and Hawaii island, leading to the ambitious route over the rocks and boulders to yet another viewpoint of the city.

And then there's the Hawaii island. Boats take turns to drop off locals and tourists alike on the island full of beaches suited for every taste, with cozy lagoons and hidden grottos.

Best to take the boat that makes a detour to Sveti Stefan - the most luxurious island in the vicinity of Budva, completely covered in medieval red-roofed white-stoned houses and requiring a permit just to get in, people roaming from the coast to the town walls during low tides.

What to see in Budva:

old town

Citadela

Ruins of a Roman church

St Jean Baptist church

Church of the Holy Trinity

Church built in 840 AD

Former St Sara church

Poet plaza

Roman grave

Ricardova Glava (beach)

Dancing Girl Statue

Mogren beaches

Hawaii (island of Sv Nikolai)

Crkva Sv Nikolai (Hawaii)

island of Sveti Stefan

Zipline near Durdevica Tara Bridge, Montenegro

Our last day was decided beforehand.

Everyone going to Montenegro advises to take a tour of Tara canyons. True, the nature is absolutely worth seeing - although I'd prefer taking my time at certain places not rushing as the guided tours do.

I don't know if it's typical of this mountainous region, but that day was rainy, getting us wet from time to time. Durmitor actually got me soaked through to my bones - it's usually chilly here, and the rain made its contribution. But the nature is breathtaking - the dark, nearly black pines, the incredible ravines of rugged sharp stones and brash winds, the sweeping rivers of boiling, madly foaming water, the weak bushes clinging to the tiniest cracks and crevices, and gradually fading off to give way to the bare rocks precipitously piercing the high skies.

Zipline across the Durdevica Tara Bridge actually allowed to experience the void first-hand.

Tara canyon, Montenegro

Forget the 'short line is as good as the long one'. No it's not. It's short - meaning that it takes nearly half of your time on the zipline away from you.

The first moment was quite scary due to the push at the back I got from one of the guys who geared me up - but the anxious thoughts of my-god-there's-five-hundred-feet-of-nothing-under-me were almost immediately swept out of my head by the sheer rapture of damn-I'm-flying-and-it's-so-beautiful. That's something to experience by yourself, no one will be able to translate it to you accurately.

The final adventure was as unexpected as it was welcomed. Summer snow is an occurrence I've never yet experienced in my life - that is, before this trip. Hail is not that common but it happens from time to time (there's one in my memory from when I was around 7, where the hails were the size of a child's fist). But the one we encountered on our way back from the Montenegrin black forests was unprecedented - not only it was accompanied by strong wind and showers but also covered the ground in freezing white blanket, the strangest sight among the rich, plentiful wild greens. The trip back was soothing and distressing at once, with the soft rocking of the comfortable bus on the winding mountain roads and the rapid rapping of hail over the roof.

Big Finale

The Hawaii Beach, Budva, Montenegro

Coming back to Kiev, I was firm in my belief: best trips happen when you plan everything yourself, encounter a bunch of weird and fun adventures and meet challenges head-on. This Balkan tour reconciled me with my turbulent self: the bad things, the good things - it's worth saluting everything that comes our way. What's a trip without obstacles; what's a trip that tells you nothing about yourself, people you travel with and world around you? Cheers!

#balkans #budapest #hungary #beograd #serbia #podgorica #ostrog #niksic #montenegro #sarajevo #mostar #bosnia and herzegovina #dubrovnik #croatia #herceg novi #kotor #tivat #budva #tara

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