Montenegro's Riviera and Ruins

     Montenegro has a 55-mile coastline on the Adriatic Sea, and its oldest coastal village is Budva which is 2,500 years old. Here's what this walled-city looked like as depicted on an old 1900 postcard.

     Today however Budva is the center of Montenegrin tourism.

At least the cathedral's steeple is still recognizable. 

During tourist season, it's known as the Riviera.

Fancy $$$ yachts and taxi boats dock along its ancient walls.

And instead of isolated beaches in the old days, it's now crowded with seaside restaurants and condos.

     Fortunately my sister Vicki and I visited here October 1, 2018 when there weren't many tourists. See that green fence along the cliff wall in above photo? Below is a close-up of that fenced walkway.

And that Ballerina statue in above photo, lower right, is a crowd pleaser. Vicki took her photo below on the cliffside walkway.

The cliffside walkway was a wonderful walk.

The rock formation is absolutely stunning.

At the end of the walkway is an accessible beach with a picturesque view of Old Town Budva

     Back in Old Town Budva, Vicki and I thoroughly enjoyed reviewing menus of all the many tiny independently-owned restaurants. I even got the chef's written list of ingredients for his black pizza dough (includes inky-black squid juice).

Walking around inside the old walls and getting lost in the alleys was fun for a day.

    Our next visit to see ruins was Stari Bar, only 27 miles down the coast from Old Town Budva. But Stari Bar is at the opposite end of the spectrum of ruins; it's the real McCoy. There are no gussied-up shops and restaurants inside these walls.

In fact this old aqueduct (below photo) supplied water to the little village until 1979 when an earthquake damaged it.

I visited these wonderful ruins twice . . . there's more spirituality here than in Old Town Budva. 

I could imagine a village full of life here one thousand years ago.

Vicki climbed up narrow steps to get these shots above and below.

That's me in the photo below, contemplating what kind of livelihood existed here.

There's a depiction of what this walled-village may have looked like one thousand years ago.

It must have been quite majestic . . . it sits high on the mountain.

There are many terraces and cobblestoned stairways inside these old walls.

There's very little effort to "groom" these ruins which I think gives a more authentic experience.

     This is olive grove country. One morning Vicki and I took a stroll and walked through many groves surrounding Stari Bar.

Our hotel patio overlooked the outside of the old walls.

This town hasn't fully recovered from the 1979 earthquake but it's making a valiant effort to attract tourists. Below photo is our hotel.

The hotel proprietor (above) is selling olive oil; olive oil is big business here.

The fiddle bottles are cute. The problem of buying cute stuff overseas is the weight in luggage, so Vicki and I rarely buy anything other than food to be consumed.

Tourists arrive on a bus from the new city of Bar which is about two miles away. 

Our favorite local ingredient was pomegranates; it makes the best fresh juice!

We gave our tourist dollars to several pomegranate vendors.

I've seen people eating this funny-looking fruit with a spoon.

We enjoyed eating at the independently-owned restaurants in the evening; each has its own unique cuisine and style.

The absolutely BEST stir-fried veggy dish with okra, mushrooms, black olives, peppers and tomatoes was this memorable bowl. I could live on this dish every day and never miss meat in my diet.

     From Stari Bar, Vicki and I hired a pre-arranged taxi driver to take us to Albania's airport in Tirana. Seems ludicrous to spend $100 USD to take a taxi for 77 miles across the border, but taking a bus significantly increased the risk of missing that flight to Tel Aviv. The taxi driver took the scenic rural roads through Albania's tiny villages, plus he was a very communicative man, definitely worth the $100 plus a generous tip.

     Coming up next, Tel Aviv and other sights in Israel . . . .