To be honest, I don’t remember much about my last trip to Montenegro. Wild Hilde picked me up at home in her car. We drove non-stop for 24 hours in shifts, down dirt tracks and through goat pastures all the way to Ulcinj. As the wind remained more than a bit of a breeze for two weeks, the nights turned into one big storm.

Today, a good ten years later. At Croatia’s southern border, we wait two and a half hours to cross. The 190 km to Ulcinj is one long roadworks zone. We cut across the bay at Kotar on a short car ferry. This previously unknown vessel becomes a pirate ship for the little Smurf. Immediately afterwards, we encounter real pirates. They stand behind the counter at Burger King and demand far more gold than one would find in German climes. (more…)

Lush house beats thump heavily over the end of the deserted beach just before the Albanian border. Blissful people dream tiredly of dancing on sand. I’m in the middle of it all and somewhere else entirely, all I want to do tonight is write, write until the battery on my ancient mobile phone runs out. Write until I’m finally empty and calm.

Montenegrin wine is good, and it flowed more than abundantly today. The local house party coke dealer reacts with almost pitiful disappointment to the modest rejection of this white-bellied no-pat. His sales are guaranteed today, the crowds are clamouring to forget nothing, while I desperately try to remember how we got here. (more…)