After our day in Croatia, we didn't know what to expect from Kotor, Montenegro, our next port of call. Given its proximity to the previous stop, we suspected it would be more of something akin to the same.
As it turned out, Montenegro was anything but more of the same. The moment I saw the huge mountains looming high above the ship as it sailed into the bay, I knew a whole different experience awaited us. Here, we had not booked a guided tour; just a water shuttle to take us from the Rhapsody and dump us off on foreign soil. As strangers in an alien place, we figured we would take our chances and hope for the best. At the last minute, friend Terry began feeling puny and decided to remain aboard the ship. I'm not going to categorically state that he might have overindulged at the casino the night before, but neither will I rule out that possibility.
As Beth, Ms. B., and Old Dude disembarked, we could feel the aura of ancient age that surrounded the town, which is considerably larger than Zadar. The first thing I encountered was a group of geocachers—Swedish and Canadian, it turned out—gathered around the cache just outside the port. They were apparently from our ship, though as I discovered from the online logs, literally dozens of other cachers, from a couple of different cruise ships, found the same caches I did on that day. Later, as we were leaving, I saw more cachers gathered at the port hide, apparently having a little trouble finding it. I managed to set them straight.
In the town proper, upon getting our bearings, the three of us set out exploring and immediately discovered another world of narrow, labyrinthine streets and alleys, not unlike those in Venice. We saw, atop the high ridge that overlooked the town, the battlements of a sprawling, ancient stone fortress. A strenuous walking trail leads to it, but we didn't undertake that venture. Our regular dinner companions, Nancy and Marsha, evidently did, and they told us that the exertion nearly wiped them out. I did seek and find a couple of geocaches, thus adding a new country to my caching portfolio.
And catses. Catses roamed here in profusion. Kotor is known for its cats, which are essentially feral, although, due to their constant exposure to humans, the ones we encountered were reasonably social. As we came to one of the myriad outdoor bistros in the middle of town, we saw numerous cats lounging about on chairs and under tables. Beth and Brugger found a few shops that piqued their interest (a thing that happened frequently in all our ports of call). For a time, we settled ourselves at a nice outdoor restaurant called Jazz Club Evergreen, which, while Montenegro-esque in atmosphere, paid tribute to American jazz musicians. Cats lounged in profusion here. We availed ourselves to some Montenegrin wine, a varietal called Vranac, which proved excellent—not unlike a slightly tart Cab Sauv with an agreeable touch of mustiness in the finish. Eventually, after negotiating another intricate maze of streets, confusing even with the GPS, we located a nearby restaurant we had previously seen and ordered lunch, doing our best to pronounce the Montenegrin dish names. (Our server gave me a big thumbs-up when I asked whether he could comprehend my questionable vocalizations.) Beth and Brugger ordered pizzas, which were huge and delicious in the extreme. I found myself with a dish that was a variation on Chicken Cordon Bleu, quite tasty, but so huge I couldn't possibly finish it. No worries; there are cats. A couple of very friendly little guys came around and helped me kill what I couldn't eat.
|
| One of our lunch companions |
|
| Jazz Club Evergreen |
The Rhapsody set sail again late in the afternoon, and after we'd been moving for a while, I ventured up on deck. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of not taking my phone with me. I say it was a mistake because if ever there were sights to photograph, this was the place. I didn't want to run back to the room to grab it for fear I'd miss out on the views altogether. The peaks rising on either side of the channel were prodigious, and as we rounded a peninsula, the town of Perast came into view. What a spectacular sight. Perast is a beautiful, seaside village, with the prominent tower of St. Nickola Church standing out above the shore. The sun had fallen beyond the mountains, and the town's lights were just coming on. I could see, a short distance away, a couple of small islands in the bay. These were St. George and Our Lady of the Rocks. This was, for me, a transcendental moment, a view of such beauty that I found myself mesmerized. I believe, at that point, it would have been physically impossible for me to even attempt to break away and run back to my cabin for my camera. So, unfortunately, you are left with no images of the views that had captured me, though the links above may at least give you an idea.
October 22, 2019: Anyone for Stromboli?
The few days we'd been in Europe had been busy busy, so having a relaxing day at sea made for a welcome change of pace. There was napping, reading, Casino-ing, eating, and a spot of drinking. In Italy, I had discovered what might be considered, for me, an uncharacteristically frou-frou drink: the Campari Spritz. Mind you, in Italy, the Campari Spritz is considered the "masculine" drink, while the milder-flavored Aperol Spritz reputedly appeals more to feminine tastes. Anyway, once I had drunk one of the damned Campari things, it grew on me. So, for most of the rest of the voyage, Campari and a traditional Damned Bloody Mary were my spirits of choice.
Around midday, the Rhapsody rounded the toe of the boot, passing through the narrow channel between Italy and Sicily at Messina. Here lay the legendary realm of Scylla and Charybdis from Homer's The Odyssey. I had expected to find prodigious cliffs here, but they rose only on the Italian side. The Sicilian shore was long, narrow, and very flat. We could, however, clearly see Mt. Etna in the distance, smoking away, partially obscured by clouds.
|
| It's difficult to see, but far back in the haze, that's Mt. Etna in Sicily, oozing a plume of smoke. |
|
| The view as we round the tip of Italy's boot |
Friend Terry and I figured that, well, as long as the mountain is venting, that's a pretty good sign. If it stops venting, it might be time to worry a little. I shouldn't much want to be nearby should that thing decide to blow its stack.
|
| Mt. Stromboli, seen in the distance as we approach |
|
| Mt Stromboli at closer range, now puffing a bit of smoke. |
|
| The islands of Salina and Ripari, seen in the distance from near Mt. Stromboli |
Read Mediterranean Sojourn Part 1 here.
Read Mediterranean Sojourn Part 2 here.
Read Mediterranean Sojourn Part 4 here.
Read Mediterranean Sojourn Part 5 here.
Read Mediterranean Sojourn Part 6 here.
Read Mediterranean Sojourn Part 7 here.