Day 144
Location 28: Budva, Montenegro
Mar. 24, 2023
Last night, a friend at the hostel and I agreed to watch the sunrise from the cliffs at the edge of the beach. No one believed I would—or could—wake up in time. I took that personally. Admittedly, their doubts were justified: I hadn't gotten out of bed before 11am all week. "I'm waking up at 5:30am. If you're not in the lobby by 5:35am, I'm leaving without you." Still no one believed me.
Out of spite, I woke up and left at 5:15am.
5:15am
The plan: follow the path to the cliffs at the outer edge of the beach for sunrise. The problem? There is no path to the cliffs. I'll have to blaze my own. Cue the Rocky theme music.
I hop a locked gate with a landslide warning and skirt around an underwater cave before traversing over 500ft of sketchy rocks assembled in the style of a pile of shattered glass. It's a struggle, but made easier thanks to Gonna Fly Now (the Rocky theme music) playing on repeat in my headphones. Yea, that wasn't a joke earlier.
5:37am
I slide off my $1 flip flops acquired from a Budapest thermal bath months earlier. They've done me well so far, but are too slippery now. Stripping away any frills, now it's just bare feet vs. a wet rock. The image of Rocky's fists punching frozen meat plays in my mind.
Like a boss at the end of a video game, the last rock guarding the cliff is also the biggest. Equipped with a full health bar (a steep 45° angle), the rock has many special attacks (a 6ft drop into water below, spikey edges). One wrong move and it's Game Over (certain injury, possible unconsciousness, and potential death—it'll be 2 more hours for people to start waking up. 5 more hours for me, on a normal day.)
A full-body panic takes over. Then a full-body sweat joins in. I muster up all my strength, hoping to propel myself far enough to clear the gap to the cliff. 1...2...3...JUMP!
I crest the cliff at the exact moment in the song where Rocky reaches the top of the famous Philadelphia steps. There we stood next to each other, The Italian Stallion and I. Raising our clenched fists above our heads, looking out at the path we'd blazed.
7:45am
After watching the sunrise and reading for two hours, it's time for celebratory swim in the beach below. Instead of torturing myself by returning the way I came, I spot a short path up to a woods trail that surely leads to the beach. If only I'd found this path earlier.
When confronted with a fork in the trail, I choose a route that leads to a dead end. Wrong choice. Then a few more forks. And a few more wrong choices. Without water or food, I'm exhausted and covered in dirt and leaves and thorns and losing hope there's a way out of this forest.
8:22am
Just when it seems I've been swallowed up by this trail for good, it spits me out. Whew. But instead of the beach at the bottom of the mountain, I'm at a castle. At the top of the mountain. Oops. "It's about the journey, not the destination." Thank goodness, because I'm nowhere near my destination. For good measure, I strike the famous Rocky pose once more.
Despite this minor setback, I'm thrilled to be out of the woods. Literally.
There's a construction project happening at the beach, so they've bulldozed a dirt road through the trees. Paths are being blazed all over the place, I guess. The road is for construction vehicles, not for tired tourists in $1 flip flops. I ignore this fact. At the bottom, the path's steepness threatens to turn me into a human landslide. Motivated by the sound of construction workers' mocking laughter, I finally reach the sandy beach.
8:46am
A refreshing swim in the pale blue Adriatic sea is a worthy celebration. Beyond the soft crashing of the waves, there is a faint voice calling out a name, also in celebration. I listen closer, and barely make out the exclamation: "Adriiiaaaannnnn!"
11:08am
After a breakfast sandwich and coffee by the beach, I lay down for a quick one-hour nap to make up for my lack of sleep. Maybe two hours. Possibly three.
2:08pm
Miloš (pronounced "Milosh") is the hostel manager I've sought out for renting a bike and riding 45 minutes to the nicest view and beaches in Budva. "At this spot", the expert says while pointing to a map in his hand, "take this detour road, otherwise you'll be stuck carrying the bike up a wall of stairs." "Okay" I say as I peddle away.
2:31pm
On my ride to the viewpoint, I look up and am distracted by a sort of holy temple. My religion is basketball and my house of worship a court. Like a moth to a flame, I divert from my route towards the meditative drum of an orange ball on asphalt.
Two local boys invite me to shoot around with them. "I'm Peter. My uncle lives in New York! Have you ever had a Mr. Beast burger?" The conversation is adorable.
When one of Peter's Sour Patch Kids drops on the ground, I pick it up and eat it. Peter peers at his friend and does the thing where you point at the side of your head and move your hand clockwise around your ear to signal "crazy". I'm not fully convinced he's wrong.
We share laughs, stories, and our love for the holy sport. As I turn to leave, Peter offers me one full bag of his Sour Patch Kids, "Don't worry, I bought six of them". My baptism into the local congregation is complete.
3:39pm
On my ride to the highest viewpoint of Mt. Saint Stefan, I took a wrong turn and ended up like a TV show with an extremely disappointing series finale. That's right, I found myself Lost. So lost that I was at the bottom of the mountain asking a local woman for directions. "The quickest route is up these stairs." So much for following my expert's advice.
4:01pm
After climbing 43 stairs, I reach the lookout point and enter a restaurant that serves food and a view. "Bring me your biggest water bottle" I sweatily request from the waiter. The bottle arrives. "I'll take another, actually. And an orange juice. And a glass of ice." I was hot and tired and thirsty and hungry. But it was all worth it for that view, stairs and all.
5:22pm
Last on the day's agenda is a trip to the King & Queen's Beach: a private waterfront villa formerly belonging to the royal family of Montenegro.
In sync with the sun lowering in the sky, I lower myself into the water. Apropos of my setting, I feel like a king. Or like James Bond after saving the world, right before the credits roll, as he reclines and relaxes on a sunny beach with a straw-punched coconut in hand. All I'm missing is the coconut.
6:30pm
In the glow of sunset, I ride back to the hostel. No stairs this time. Time to take my second nap of the day and prepare for a night out.
11:30pm
Loud pop music and swirling lights greets us on the dance floor. But the night's most fun moments spawn from a bit between me and two Turkish guys. It's what I call a "circus of middle fingers".
Basically, the goal is to flip off the others without telegraphing it. Oh, what's this in my pocket? Middle Finger. You dropped this, they look down. Flip em' off. Pretend to take a group photo, show the result. It's a photo of me giving The Finger. Brilliant stuff. The club transformed into a hub of Middle-Finger innovation. A Silicon Valley of Fuck Yous. A bird-brained Bird brainstorm session.
1:30pm