Escaped from yacht world in Montenegro (it’s really just Caravan Club for rich people, just with Crystale instead of UHT milk). Our minibus down to the capital of Albania, Tirana was fun. We were lucky enough to have the wonderful musical accompaniment of that young, some would say sexy (I think I probably would), Iglesias fellow (not the old dead classical guy – his son… can’t remember his name) and Avril Lavigne on a loop. For four hours.

Tirana itself was very cool. Fantastically vibrant city that felt really on the up. Funky bars and restaurants. And finally we found somewhere cheap. Had a delicious dinner of grilled meats, bread, salad, beer and mineral water for equivalent of 4 euros each.

Kept singing different Albanian anthems that I made up in my head. It started with “Albanian Families” to the tune of the 1980s TV advert for “Sylvanian Families”. And then it went on. “We’re the kids of Albania, woah” and “Welcome to Tirana” (to the Manu Chao song “Welcome to Tijuana”) were my faves.

Albania has far more similarities with India than with any country in Europe I’ve ever seen. The toilets are fecking disgusting (I’d go so far to say, worse than India), power outages and water shortages are the norm, and the “roads” are in a complete state (and instead of cows wondering about aimlessly, here it is donkeys. I know. It’s brilliant).

I still haven’t worked out how the road system works. Or even if there is a system. The drivers here seem to have collectively imagined a third lane into being, which as far as I can see does not actually exist. It makes for really interesting journeys as cars dodge back and forth searching out the gaps. Every bus ride is like a hair-raising kamikaze game of cat and mouse. It took me almost half a day to work out that vehicles are supposed to drive on the right hand side. There at least seems to be some vague agreement about abiding to that rule – sort of. I don’t think there are any others.

Our second bus journey here, to Dhermi (pronounced “Thermi”) was hilarious. We spent the first hour taking the huge bus down a two-lane, but I think really supposed to be one-lane, “one-way” system out of a major town. Luckily we had two policemen riding on board with us so they were able to get out every now and again and order the traffic around to let us through. The people on the bus were fantastic and we had lots of sing-a-longs, with the policeman taking the lead. Several helpings of grilled goat’s brains and Italian Job finale bends later we finally made it to Dhermi.

Yes, I did say goats brains. GOATS BRAINS. I ATE GOATS BRAIN. I ATE GOATS BRAIN. ME. I ATE IT. And Will has the photos to prove it. Having not tucked into a horseburger in the end in Ljubjana, I thought I’d better up the ante a little. Earlier in the day we had met a guy who had told us about the national “delicacies”, and he had explained how he thought goat’s brain was really rather nice. And tasted a bit like condensed yoghurt. I really didn’t get that. Until I ate it. And it did taste like condensed yoghurt. Really disgusting gone-off condensed yoghurt. I also tucked into a bit of goat tongue (mmmmm… or rather, hmmmmm), and finished off with some goat’s face. Which was the nicest bit. But then I stopped. It was okay while it lasted. But you have to know when to stop. But Will and our two new Albanian best friends tucked into the rest of the poor goat’s face like it was a KFC Bargain Bucket.

Later we shared a proper dinner of a Milka bar and a Nestle canned iced Cappuccino.

The next day we went to grab some breakfast at a restaurant. When we asked for the menu the waiter man explained that there wasn’t one, but that he could serve us their usual breakfast fare. Cow’s head soup. We politely declined.

It is perhaps no surprise that I was violently ill the day after the goat’s brains, and have spent two days in bed. Thank goodness for Adam & Joe who totally got me through feeling like crap.

Albania is donkey heaven. They are everywhere. I am so happy.

After another evening of Montenegrin wine and a re-heat of the previous days pasta extravaganza we prepared for an early bus to take us down to Albania.

One day William if you work hard your belly could be this big

Jo’s pasta extravaganza went well and I am pleased to report that Montenegrin wine is decidedly drinkable.  I recommend Crnogorski Merlot from near Podgorica www.plantaze.com – at €2.50 it was a bargain.

After this meal just as we were about to head down to the old town for a drink we were invited to join the family for a quick drink.  This soon turned into another complete meal of freshly caught grilled prawns and squid accompanied by a large number of beers and more wine.  The food was amazing and it was lovely to be so welcomed and looked after by our hosts.  We learnt a great deal about the family and life in Montenegro and more importantly learnt the story of “Johnny Criminal”.

I think Jo has mentioned the infamous “Johnny Criminal” in her post.  Johnny is the family dog, a lovely black Labrador, and we were intrigued as to what misdemeanour had earned him this name. I am happy to say we can now share this as we were allowed into the inner circle of the family and told the secret of “Johnny Criminal’s” heinous crimes.

A year or two ago young Johnny was still in his eat anything puppy stage and was chewing various things from around the house.  He was eternally hungry and would try to eat most things.  When Johnny joined the family they already had a much loved family pet that had been with them for many years.  “Tommy the Tortoise” had been with the family for a long time and was a much loved and trusted member of the family. He had happily wandered around the garden and the house uninterrupted and enjoyed the warmth and affection of the family until one fateful day when young Johnny was a little bit too experimental in his choice of food.  Johnny tucked into young Tommy and all that’s remains of him is his shining shell that was proudly brought in from he lounge to accompany the story.  This sad day young and innocent Johnny changed from being just Johnny to the infamous “Johnny criminal”.  Who are we to judge his crimes?  Was it just youthful puppy enthusiasm for another meal or perhaps a more dark and sinister jealousy that drove Johnny on this terrible day.  As I look into his eyes I like to think well of Johnny and put it down to a big appetite. 

After several more beers and at least another 2kg of calamari we headed down to the Old Town.  Sadly much of the old town in the evening is given over to rather loud, rather bad local DJ sets based on limited bling bling record collections.  Everyone gets properly glammed up for the night out and Jo and I felt under-dressed, rather old and perhaps a little too English to enjoy the bar scene here.

I was amazed at the ratio of women to men as there seemed to be about 10 women for every man out on the town.  As Jo soon pointed out after I had raised this with her, it was probably more to do with the fact I was choosing to notice the micro-skirted, tanned, Eastern European ladies 10 times more than the blokes.

 Jo insisted upon walking passed the Casino Royale yacht again last night but sadly for her James Bond was still nowhere to be seen.  However walking back through the town we came very close to seeing Pussy Galore a number of times.

The mix of train travel and coaches has been good with some amazing train journeys through stunning scenery. Coach journeys have been mercifully short and there has been no return of the elephantitus legs that the last 11 hour coach journey created.

Ljubljana was amazing. Beautiful old town with lazy riverside bar scene and well mixed mojitos. Some rather crazy and slightly less artistic graffitti but I am sure they will get better. The hostel was in an old prison with the cell doors intact and a burger that could have easily passed for prison food, so all in all a good sense of authenticity.

One of the best things about just bumming around down the coast is the trust that you will always find somewhere to stay. I hate booking anywhere and like just turning up in various coach/train stations and waiting to be invited back to the appartment of a random old woman. Unfortunately I never get anywhere as Jo always tags along but the accomodation is always fantastic. This seems to be how it works down here – widows and families have a separate room or part of the house they rent out. The system works well and you actually get to meet the locals and share meals, beer and strange chocolate cake things that don’t taste too good. Aside from the chocolate cake – a great way to travel.

So after Slovenia we sloped down to Split which was nice in a touristy sort of a way and we got an apartment a stones throw away from the train station. this was great due to it being in the centre of down and only a short distance to carry our packs but not so good from a managing to sleep perspective. After a night of 45 min naps rather than a restful 8 hours we set off again down to Dubrovnik.

Dubrovnik is exceptionally beautiful and definitely worthy of spending some time. It has a sort of picture postcard quality everywhere you look. The walk around the town walls was a good way to see the town but after some fruitless negotiation we decided to move on down to Montenegro in hope of making up some of the budget overspend.

After a couple of interesting passport inspection debacles that Jo has described in detail we made it to Herceg Novi. A nice little town but dominated by a rather cheesy beach bar scene that played bass thumping euro pop tunes on a crowded pebble beach about 50 metres square. Not feeling the love in this, and not wanting to sunbathe on a small hanky, we decided to hop on another bus down to Kotor. That was definitely the right move.

Kotor is the site of the largest fjord in Southern Europe. The bus journey was somewhat hair-raising and passed through amazing mountains and hills. Montenegro feels more like the Eastern Europe we were looking for. By that I don’t just mean cheaper it is just more raw and more fun.

Kotor seems to cater mainly to Russians rather than Europeans and as you walk down the beach you see lots of big Russian guys who might have mafia connections with girls who look like they have just finished a shift at Stringfellows. The harbour here has some amazing yachts and the Casino Royale has just moored (is that the right term?). From what I can make out the Casino Royale is some sort of crazy super yacht with its own website dedicated to it.  We noticed it when we walked back after an afternoons sunbathing and Jo started dreamily blurting out some Daniel Craig fantasy about being invited onto the yacht. I am still not sure whe knew she was saying it all out loud.

So now back to the apartment for dinner.  We are staying with a lovely family who are charging us 15 euros a night for a large bedroom, kitchen, private bathroom and lovely sun terrace.  Great value but we were a little hesitant before we got there due to a language barrier and having to follow the woman for about a mile up the mountain.  But the place is excellent and Jo is going to make her pasta extravaganza accompanied by a bottle of Montenegros finest red wine.