You will be lulled into a false sense of security….
Isn’t it beautiful? It really was! Sunny, warm, glassy water, and the sense of peace and contentment that descends when you should really know better.
Oooops.
But it was fiiiine. (I can say that now, in April, because February was worse. Anything we encounter from here on will be better than February.)
We rode the coattails of a gorgeous Christmas to New Year’s week all the way to Orthodox Christmas on January 7th. Eighty percent of Montenegrins are Orthodox and the rest are “Catholic.” But everyone proudly celebrates everything – two Christmases! Two Easters! There is a strong local narrative endorsing this religious tolerance, and given the proportions of Orthodox to Catholics, “1st Christmas” is really just the warmup for “2nd Christmas.” Public holiday displays started going up on December 22nd, and the good stuff came out only after the new year. By “the good stuff” I am of course referring to the elf condemned to dragging around Santa’s sleigh harnessed by his ears, and the huge Santa that could kill you if you touch it. I would like to start a GoFundMe for Tivat’s holiday decorations…..
On the evening of January 2nd, our marinero and friend Miloš threw a party to celebrate the birth of his third child that morning. We were honored to be invited to join the families and their friends in celebrating this joyful event at a local restaurant, and in addition to meeting all sorts of new friends we were able to see Radovan the goat herder (who is of course Miloš’ father-in-law) and his family again. It was a rip-roaring party. A little odd to us, since the new mother was still in the hospital, but apparently this is customary, and we joined in the toasts and enjoyed the general good cheer and palpable love and affection flowing through the crowd. This was our second opportunity to drink Radovan’s rakija, and it was just as delicious as it was the first time on the side of the mountain above Kotor. It was probably good that we had to get back to the boat relatively early for Peter to attend a meeting.
As the afterglow of the multiple holidays faded and the crap weather returned, we redoubled our efforts to get off the boat. We had a lovely hike up to Gornja Lastva, a still inhabited medieval village situated high above town. We returned there several times over the coming months both for the exercise and the views.
Several trails lead past the village and further up the mountain, so a few weeks later we hiked from Gornja Lastva up to the saddle between two peaks, and then down to the town at the fjord, or “waist” of the Bay of Kotor’s hourglass shape. Parts of this particular trail were “paved” with stone that we could see everywhere around us, including in large depressions in the mountain and in heaps along side it. Closer inspection revealed that a lot of it looks like petrified wood. Any geologists out there?
So what else did January bring?
A very drunk Russian drove his car off the end of Jetty 4 one night. (He survived.)
While Peter was back in Denver I got to cat-sit a sweet little rescue named Kitty. She made herself at home and vacillated frequently between Hell Kitten and Purr Bunny.
We put down the cockpit enclosures and created an atrium. And kicked ourselves for not figuring out earlier that even on a 40 degree day, if the sun was shining we could have 60 degrees out in the cockpit. Our common space doubled, and suddenly this tiny boat felt like it was a little less cramped. It also creates a modicum of privacy – or perhaps the illusion of privacy. The isenglass, also known as “clears,” is transparent, but in combination with the mosquito netting there’s enough blur to make us feel a little less like we’re in a goldfish bowl. I think we’ve also gotten better at just ignoring the fray on the promenade.
And then, just like that, it was February.