I was still a little on edge, though. As someone who grew up during the Cold War, I still have some heartburn over reminders of the communist past in these countries. It surprises me that some people still think life would be better under the old Yugoslav dictator, Josip Tito.

There are still reminders of the old government, although they weren’t nearly as noticeable as they were in Bosnia. My wife had to remind me that sometimes it’s just the name that was used and not a desire to go back to communist rule.

Still, it felt a little odd that they used Cyrillic letters for some things and Latin letters for others. Signs, books, and even graffiti used one alphabet or the other.

Even though I wasn’t thrilled to see remnants of the past, I have to admit that I was really excited to come across this.

The Yugo was considered one of the worst cars ever made back in the 80s, but this guy somehow managed to keep it running. After a little research, I found out that they kept making the Yugo until 2008. Maybe this was a newer model.

A stark contrast to the olden days is The Cathedral of the Resurrection of Christ. It’s surprisingly new, having been consecrated in 2013. The outside gets odder the more you look at it, with different styles of stonework and architectural details.

But it’s what’s inside that makes it even odder. It has the usual spectacular ceiling artwork and icons. One part of the ceiling depicts some well-known folks chilling in the burning lava hot tub of hell.

I couldn’t find any information about the two people behind them, but I’m sure they were Soviet leaders, judging by the bald head and the bushy gray hair. Russian leaders seem to alternate hairlines. *

After realizing that some people didn’t want the old dictatorship back, I felt a little better. At first. After more research, I found out that everyone swimming in the final judgment pit of despair represented someone, including some modern political figures and even some Albanians. This was getting a little too political for me.

I just hoped they didn’t have any other negative stereotypes of other countries.

We stopped across from the cathedral to eat at a Munich-based pub. Instead of feeling German, it had a distinctly American feel. The walls had NYC skylines and Route 66 signs, along with a motorcycle mural covered in random words representing the gung-ho American lifestyle.

With low expectations, we ordered some local cheese sausages and a sausage roll off the appetizer menu. Instead of one sausage roll and a small sampler, we were served eight giant sausage rolls and a huge platter of delicious cheese-filled sausages. I looked at the menu and our bill to confirm we received what we had ordered. This enormous feast was under $15, including taxes. Things were looking up!

Completely stuffed, we then walked to the Mall of Montenegro. It was relatively small, but had a nice selection and several places to eat. The most interesting part was that it had a green market on the bottom floor and a flea market on the top floor.

After a pleasant (air-conditioned) walk in the mall, we went to a coffee shop and received a couple of artistic cappuccinos.

We ended up walking through one of the higher-end shopping districts. Despite all of the inexpensive items we came across that day, this was definitely out of our price range. But it was calm and clean and easily walkable.

I couldn’t believe how pleasant everything was. The houses were nice and well-maintained, and a lot of them had grape arbors covering their driveways.

Back in our rental, we sat on our tiny balcony and watched the sunset. The next morning, we heard a lot of commotion outside as several large buses pulled up nearby and started dispensing a barrage of young children.

We finally figured out that they were heading to some type of graduation ceremony. Parents and grandparents were busy taking pictures of the parade of children and we could hear announcements and cheering coming from inside the building.

My wife and I enjoyed the heartwarming sight of children and their parents celebrating their achievements. I was starting to enjoy my time in Podgorica. There was only one big problem.

The four flights of stairs leading to our rental were taking their toll on my knee and ankle. It was getting to the point where I couldn’t leave the apartment half the time. I had to wait until I wasn’t hurting before I could venture out again.

Our rental also had a sunroof and a nice porch. Unfortunately, the pigeons lived there too. The amount of pigeon poop that covered everything around us was horrifying. Between my leg and the surrounding biohazard, we had to make a tough decision.

We had to move.

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*Lenin – Bald

Stalin – Bushy gray hair

Khrushchev – Bald

Brezhnev – Bushy gray hair

Andropov – Bald

Chernenko – Bushy gray hair

Gorbachev – Bald

Yeltsin – Bushy gray hair

Putin - Bald

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Now that our time in Bosnia has come to an end, I’ve collected all of our stories from the country in one place. If you’re planning a short-term visit or slow traveling like us, here’s what we learned from our time in Bosnia.

My knee and ankle, damaged from a ladder fall a few years back, had been making stairs increasingly unpleasant. And after several weeks of traveling, we had accumulated considerably more than we had arrived with. In addition to our luggage, we now owned a coffee maker, power strips, yoga mats, and various other things that had made our temporary apartment feel a little less like grandma’s house.

This time, instead of a taxi there was a car waiting to take us all the way to Montenegro.

We decided to hire a private driver for the five-hour trip from Sarajevo to Podgorica. It wasn’t the cheapest way to make the trip. But it wasn’t extravagant either. It cost a little more than flying once we included taxis to and from airports. In addition, there would be no airport security, no worrying about flight delays, and no extra baggage charges while trying to figure out how to pack a coffee maker.

Our driver had come from Podgorica to collect us, which meant we also had a conversation partner who was proud of his city. He told us about Podgorica and Montenegro, giving us our first introduction to the country before we ever crossed the border.

The farther away from Sarajevo we got, the more the scenery changed. We quickly left city life behind and entered the vast countryside, with only small villages dotting the way. The signs began changing too, with Latin letters slowly being joined by Cyrillic, making it feel even more foreign than before.

Eventually, the road became narrow and partially washed away in places. Soon we were greeted by some other inhabitants of the area heading in the same direction.

Right as we were approaching the border with Montenegro, we were greeted by this fellow.

Our driver stopped for a picture opportunity, and our new friend was ready for his close-up.

We reached the border, which was an experience unto itself. Passport control was a trailer, with a single portly attendant with less authoritative presence than a mall cop.

Our driver handed the guard our passports and explained the situation, I assume. It wasn’t in English. Either way, our driver handled it, and we had one less thing to worry about.

After that, we had to cross a single-lane wooden bridge over a deep gorge.

I have to admit, the bridge was a bit scary to cross. But the view was worth it.

And then we crossed into Montenegro.

The contrast was immediate. The road changed dramatically from a poorly maintained mountain road to a modern highway. Passport control on the other side had air-conditioned booths with multiple staff members and a small modern office building in case more paperwork was needed.

The scenery changed as well, opening into beautiful gorge vistas, winding rivers, and a lake. The road wound alongside the river and passed through short tunnels drilled through the mountainsides.

A few hours later, we entered the capital city of Podgorica. The streets were wide and the sidewalks walkable. Many buildings were new or under construction.

As we headed toward our new rental, I could feel the tension of the last few months fade. The city felt vibrant, but it was surrounded by the beauty of nature.

As we headed down the street where our rental was located, my wife and I took note of all the restaurants we were going to try. There was an actual Mexican restaurant next door and a decent-sized grocery store as well.

The whole experience of hiring a driver had been worth it.

There were no airport hassles, we had pleasant conversation along the way, someone handled passport control for us, and we had plenty of legroom. Best of all, everything we owned had made it from the front door of our apartment in Sarajevo to the front door of our new home in Podgorica.

Our driver dropped us off in front of our building, which was considerably older than the ones we had passed on the way, but we weren’t concerned. The location was fabulous.

We had to navigate about ten steps up into our building. Not ideal, but manageable for my knee and ankle.

Once we got inside, we realized that we had been misled. Despite our host confirming that we were on the first floor, we were on the top floor, four more flights of stairs up.

And there was no elevator.

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Maybe I was already too far gone by the time we arrived. Between a less-than-ideal rental, cool rainy weather, and the stress of losing my biggest client, I was already emotionally drained.

Then we pulled up to our rental.

We'd watched plenty of travel influencers pass through Mostar. They acknowledged its tragic history, took in the sights, and moved on. We weren't just passing through.

There are obvious memorials and museums dedicated to the war, but the longer you stay, the more you see.

As we walked around, the signs were sometimes subtle.

But the closer you looked, the more you noticed.

We walked past this mosque several times before noticing the damage. It’s a small, unassuming building with a small cemetery next to it, and the passing tourists seemed to be oblivious to its history.

We walked a little further away from the old town and found even more devastation.

We wanted to experience everyday life in Mostar, but I couldn't stop noticing the reminders of everything the city had endured.

I’ve always had the philosophy that we all see the same things, but can choose what we focus on. I always try to see the positive, but it was getting tougher and tougher.

As we walked past the mosque and its cemetery, I noticed something I’d somehow missed every previous time. It hit me immediately.

I didn’t need a museum to explain war or genocide.

This wasn’t a museum exhibit. It wasn’t a stop on a tour.

I was standing in the middle of it.

It was simply part of everyday life in Mostar. Or death, in this case. This is what the citizens of Mostar see every day.

People talk about moments that leave you unable to breathe.

This was mine.

We couldn’t speak once we understood what we were looking at.

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This was my breaking point. I had to get away from this country. The beauty no longer outweighed the emotional toll it was having on me.

We had another night so we couldn’t just leave, so I did what any 80s kid would do to find comfort.

We went to the mall.

A few blocks away was a modern shopping mall. We went inside and I slowly started to feel better. People seemed happier and families walked hand in hand past familiar name-brand stores.

They were having some entertainment for the children in the middle of the mall. Mario, Skye from Paw Patrol, and Peppa Pig were all dancing and having fun with the children.

It helped. Just a bit. But, I was done. I lost my ability to see the positive side of things. I couldn’t look at things the same way.

Everything felt like a reminder of how far humanity could fall. And when I sat on a bus with old gray-haired men my age, I couldn’t stop thinking to myself. Did you lose your entire family in the war? Or were you the one who pulled the trigger?

We wrapped up our stay and prepared for our next trip, but I had to take one last picture. I leaned up against the artillery damaged wall of our rental and took this picture.

For the first time in nearly a year of traveling, I wasn’t counting the days until our next adventure.

I was counting the days until we left.

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There’s one recurring graffiti I kept seeing, so I had to look it up. It’s for the “Red Army,” which has to do with the local soccer team that apparently had a big win in 1981 and they’re still celebrating it. I don’t normally like showing graffiti, but since this is everywhere and you might wonder what it means, I decided to share what I’ve learned.

Across the street from the building art is a jail that is also covered in artistic graffiti.

If you’re like me, you will need a break from the history and wars and the tourist attractions. The non-political art was a great reset for me and is definitely something to put on your list of places to go if you ever visit Mostar.

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Despite the exterior of our rental, the inside was pleasant enough and helped me relax. Better yet, we were only a few steps from the picturesque Old Bridge, the town’s most famous landmark.

First, we had to cross the street and pass inviting cafes and shops.

We made a quick left and we were at the foot of the bridge. A sign warned us that the bridge may be slippery. That was an understatement.

The smooth stones were insanely slippery. Thank goodness there were ridges every few feet to brace yourself. Crossing the bridge took nearly ten minutes as we took a step, regained our footing, and then did it all over again.

At the top of the bridge, we were treated with a magnificent view of the emerald green river that ran through the city.

Also at the top was one of the bridge divers we had heard about. A young man stood on the edge asking for donations before jumping into the freezing river. We watched for several minutes before realizing he was making sure he collected every possible donation before taking the plunge.

We needed coffee, so we continued over the bridge and found a café overlooking it. We ordered Americanos and watched. The diver stayed up there for well over half an hour before finally diving. It was exciting to see, but not worth the wait.

We wanted to relax and have another cup, so we ordered a second round. Our server sneered and said, “You drink a lot of coffee.” Maybe we do, but it still seemed like an odd thing to say.

After our coffees, we explored a little farther and came across a smaller version of the Old Bridge called the “Crooked Bridge.” The locals are great at architecture, but a little boring when it comes to naming things.

Along the river were countless restaurants with seating tucked into every available spot, each with an incredible view. My wife and I were amazed at the athleticism of the servers as they climbed up and down endless Escher-like staircases carrying huge trays of food. Despite our first server’s attitude, everyone else we met was genuinely pleasant.

The views from the restaurants were exquisite. The food, on the other hand... We tried the local cevapi, which everyone raves about. Ours was a little disappointing. The small kofta-like sausages were good but slightly dry, served with raw onions and bread. We later learned they were normally served with a sauce to bring everything together, but ours never arrived.

We also ordered the currywurst sausages, which were perfectly fine. Nothing to write home about, though.

While we were eating, a couple nearby heard our accents and asked where we were from. Like us, they were from the American South. Several drinks and a few hours later, we finally continued exploring.

As soon as we left the restaurant, we realized where we were—at the bottom of the slipperiest bridge in the world. This time it took us nearly twenty minutes to cross as we hoped our judgment and balance weren’t too impaired.

On the other side of the bridge, we walked past touristy shops and bakeries that lined the hilly streets.

Being full-time travelers carrying everything we owned with us, we had no need for souvenirs, but they were still fun to browse.

There were also artisans who made small sculptures, pen and pencil sets, toys, and other items from the endless supply of shells that are still being found decades after the war.

Normally, this is the part where bloggers like me admire the resilience of the people and how they can turn a bad situation into a positive, but I was already at my breaking point.

Most travel videos and blogs acknowledge Bosnia’s tragedy, but they’re usually based on visits lasting only a few days. We’d already spent months surrounded by reminders of the war, and I was reaching my limit.

I was having a hard time seeing beyond the ugliness to appreciate the beauty. Mostar has enormous beauty and positive energy, and if I had started my journey here, I probably would have been more resilient.

Instead of seeing beautiful buildings and amazing architecture, all I could see was this.

We had one more day in Mostar and my wife suggested that we visit the part of town that has building murals and art everywhere. Perhaps that would help me shake the negative feelings I had.

The artwork actually did help me, but what I saw after that pushed me over the edge.

Next Week: The Bosnian Breaking Point

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We found there are two trains a day in each direction. An early morning train leaves Sarajevo and arrives in Mostar about two hours later. Along the way, the train follows the winding Neretva River. The striking river ranges from bright turquoise to emerald green as it cuts through the surrounding limestone hills.

The river and train run through a gorge that offers stunning views of the mountains. When we traveled, there was still snow on the shady side of the mountains.

We'd heard we could buy our tickets on the day of departure, but we didn't want to leave it to chance. We booked a two-night rental next to the famous “Old Bridge,” or Stari Most, as it’s called in the local language. It’s the bridge that separated the Muslim side from the Christian side.

The tickets were a little over $24 each, making it under $100 for a round trip for two. What surprised us was that there wasn't a departure time on the ticket. In fact, it wasn't really a ticket at all. It was simply a receipt with a reference number and the amount we'd paid. The lady who sold us our “ticket” wrote down the morning and evening departure times in case we wanted to take the later train.

On the day of our trip, we arrived at the station early. Unlike other cities we’ve visited, there weren’t many trains passing through. Considering how much trouble we’d had finding our train in Spain, this was a piece of cake.

The train actually arrived a little ahead of schedule, so we had our pick of seats. We sat comfortably for quite a while, and a few minutes before departure, the train suddenly filled with passengers competing for the remaining seats. It definitely pays to arrive early.

Right as the train pulled out of the station, two young Scottish lads looking for seats climbed onto the luggage rack behind us. Like most Scottish tourists we'd encountered on our travels, they seemed to know only one adjective, and it started with the letter "F."

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When we bought our tickets, we asked which side of the train offered the better view. We were told it didn't matter because both sides were beautiful. While I'd say the left side has a slight advantage on the trip to Mostar, the difference isn't significant. There's always something incredible to look at. Even the lads behind us were impressed enough to stop talking and admire the "F**n brilliant" mountains.

The train ride went smoothly and we arrived on time. The only negative was getting a taxi at the station. We’ve had such good luck with the taxi system in Sarajevo, I forgot our protocol of asking for the costs up front. It ended up costing us €20 for a short taxi ride. Had I known how small Mostar was, we would have walked to our rental.

On the plus side, when we got to our rental, we were treated with a view of the magnificent arched Old Bridge.

It felt good to get away from the tension I'd been feeling in Sarajevo. I wanted to relax in this fairy-tale town and forget, at least for a little while, about the bullet-riddled streets of the capital.

Next Week: Mostar - The Fairy-Tale Village Riddled With Bullet Holes

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The East Side

The West Side

Modern Architecture

Surrounding the old town are many newer structures. Some follow the style of the surrounding area, while others branch out with a more modern flair.

Sculptures and Street Art

Like most major cities, Sarajevo has a mix of quirky architectural designs, sculptures, and building murals. Some are easy to spot, while others are hidden in plain sight.

One of my favorite structures in Sarajevo was this loop-de-loop bridge crossing the river. The loop serves no purpose other than to make the bridge look interesting.

Next to the bridge are three acrobats trying to cross the river with varying degrees of success.

In one of the parks, I found this bizarre “musical” sculpture. The park is set up for bikes and skateboards and wasn’t especially pleasant, but the sculpture was interesting enough for a visit.

I’m not a fan of graffiti, and I consider most of it to be straight-up vandalism. The only reason I’m posting this picture is because this image is everywhere, although most versions don’t have the name underneath it.

Vedran Puljić was a football, or soccer, fan who was killed during a riot after a match. The stencil, which is ubiquitous throughout Sarajevo, is used to draw attention to allegations of excessive force by the police.

If you do a deep dive, you’ll find blog posts with divided opinions that seem to mirror the political divisions within the country. The police officer who killed Vedran was reportedly not on duty or in uniform, fled to Croatia afterwards, and was never charged. Many people claim the killing was politically or ethnically motivated.

On the other hand, others point out that Vedran was participating in a riot. It wasn’t as though he was standing nearby eating ice cream. According to one source, he was also allegedly attempting to set fire to a gas station.

I’m only mentioning this in case you ever visit Sarajevo and wonder what the stencil is about. For me, it reinforces the sense of inner turmoil that this city, and the entire country, still feels today.

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There aren’t many building murals in Sarajevo, probably because many buildings are still scarred by bullet holes. I did enjoy seeing this one, however.

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We figured out how to use a taxi app for the days when the local bus didn’t show up, which let us explore the city without spending too much. We also decided to save the major tourist attractions for later. First, we needed to get a feel for everyday life.

Most of our day trips started near Olympic Park. There were plenty of buses, trams, and taxis there, and it was far enough from the tourist district that we felt like we were experiencing the city the way locals did.

The mall quickly became one of our regular stops. It had coffee shops, pharmacies, cosmetic stores, a grocery store, and, most importantly, free public restrooms.

The plaza in front of the mall regularly hosted events. One day, we caught the start of a bicycle race, and many times we’d walk by to find a DJ blasting music for some event.

Despite the residents generally being quiet and unassuming, we did spot a few people who didn’t mind standing out. We noticed a large number of women with bright red hair. And not just your everyday red.

The locals didn’t seem especially friendly with one another, and they mostly kept to themselves. People spent hours in coffee shops, staring at their phones and occasionally chatting. Oddly enough, it helped ease some of the tension I’d been feeling. My wife and I started grabbing coffee whenever we were in town and chilled like the locals.

We also got to meet someone else just hanging out.

The Tesla Bar sits a little closer to the tourist area and is easy to find if you’re exploring that part of town.

Another local celebrity who appears occasionally is Vučko.

Vučko, the wolf, was the mascot for the 1984 Winter Olympics. His image is still a source of pride for the people of Sarajevo. He’s now called “Vučko, the Sneaky Fox of Sarajevo” because his image pops up in random places all over the city.

While browsing Google Maps, I found an attraction called “The Rock” in one of the parks near Olympic Park. It had a 4.9-star rating, so how could we pass up something that was within walking distance?

When we got there, we discovered it was...

...a rock.

As anticlimactic as it was, I understood what is was. It was exactly the kind of absurdist art I needed that day. I left it a five-star review on Google Maps.

There were a few places we wanted to visit but never managed to. We discovered there was a rotating restaurant at a hotel about a mile outside of downtown, but it was also outside our budget.

We also learned there are hot springs nearby with thermal pools and other aquatic activities. Unfortunately, when we tried to visit, we discovered the trams do not go all the way there, despite what Google Maps showed.

One thing we did accomplish was walking up the hill from our rental to a neighborhood restaurant for morning coffee. The steep climb wasn’t easy, but after about 15 minutes we were rewarded with a magnificent view of the city.

As I sipped my coffee, I tried not to think about everything the people of Sarajevo and Bosnia endured during the Balkan Wars. It was hard to escape. My superhuman ability to always look for the bright side was being tested. All the pictures I shared of the fun and unique features of Sarajevo were always surrounded by unpleasant reminders of the inhuman situation they went through.

Then our young server stopped by and asked if we’d like another cup of coffee. He smiled warmly and genuinely seemed happy to take care of us. It reminded me that there are good and friendly people everywhere. Our server probably doesn’t realize it, but the future of his country depends on him. The youth of a country can lead it toward greatness or to destruction.

A smile is a good place to start.

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Shout out to John at Affordable Travel for pointing out that I like to celebrate the mundane aspects of life. The grocery stores, the architecture, and the unique little things that most tourists miss.

This week I’m going back to Pristina, Kosovo.

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The whole ordeal started off poorly. When we arrived in early April, we were greeted by a freak snowstorm. Although beautiful, it was miserable to walk in.

Even without the snow, the location of our rental made walking difficult. We knew we were on a hillside, but Google Maps indicated that the neighborhood was “mostly flat.” In reality, there wasn’t a remotely flat stretch of road anywhere near us.

The narrow, winding roads were steep and had no sidewalks. The walk to what our hosts called a “grocery store” involved navigating dangerous curves and steep inclines. What should have been a five-minute walk took fifteen because we had to constantly watch for cars and actively trying to avoid slipping and falling.

We wouldn’t have walked to the closet-sized local store if we hadn’t been told that absolutely nothing was open on Sundays and that we’d need supplies if we wanted to buy food. It was getting late on Saturday, and we hadn’t eaten anything all day.

Our rental, advertised as “panoramic,” would’ve had a nice view if not for the trees and houses blocking it. We heard the terrace in the back offered a better view, but it hadn’t been opened yet, so we couldn’t see it for ourselves.

The rental was nice enough, but it felt like being at Grandma’s house. Little trinkets and knick-knacks covered every horizontal surface. That wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been any drawers in the entire unit. Not a single one. We actually had to remove the decorative items from tables to lay out our clothes.

We managed to get a small assortment of snacks to tide us over until Monday, when we could head into town, visit a proper grocery store, and pick up the other supplies we needed. The bus into downtown stopped right in front of our house and thankfully arrived exactly on time. There’s no smoking on the bus, but apparently that rule doesn’t apply to the driver while he’s waiting for passengers to board.

The bus ride itself was fine, although some of the passengers seemed a bit rude.

We finally arrived downtown and were relieved to walk on level ground. That’s when things got worse.

We visited several stores and a coffee shop. We were our usual overly-friendly American selves and chatted with the shopkeepers. Not once, not twice, but three separate times, as soon as people found out we were Americans, they launched into their opinions about U.S. politics, favoring one side or the other.

We understand that people have strong feelings about American politics, but everywhere else we’d traveled, people had been polite and focused on talking about the country rather than its politics. This felt unsettling. If they were that vocal and divided over another country’s politics, what was it like with their own? As it turned out, even worse.

It didn’t take long to realize that the country remained deeply divided. The scars left by the Balkan Wars hadn’t healed. No one smiled at each other. No one wanted to interact. There was a palpable sadness in the air. It was as though people weren’t sure whom to trust.

Suddenly, neither were we.

I was vaguely aware of the fighting that had taken place here, but I hadn’t realized it involved four years of relentless warfare. I learned that Bosnia and Croatia had initially fought alongside each other against Serb forces, only for Croatia to eventually turn against Bosnia as well. It’s no wonder they don’t trust anyone.

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One reason the scars don’t seem to be healing is that reminders of the war are everywhere. Scattered throughout the city are the Sarajevo Roses, memorials created by filling mortar craters with red resin. These markers were only placed where three or more people were killed.

They’re everywhere.

It was impossible to escape the reminders. Thirty years after the war, the evidence remained all around us. Bullet holes still marked buildings throughout the city. At one point, we went to check out a spa I’d found on the map. I desperately needed some relaxation, but when I saw the outside of the building, I felt anything but relaxed.

I tried to move on and took a picture of a set of nearby towers.

I looked up online what the two towers were, and this picture from the war came up first.

When we returned home from our shopping trip, I noticed bullet holes in the door leading to our terrace.

Stuck in our granny house, we wondered whether we should move on, cut our losses, and find somewhere else to stay. After a long discussion, we decided to give it some time. The snow wouldn’t last forever, and eventually the terrace would open so we could spend more time outside.

A week later, the weather improved enough for the hosts to open the terrace. For the first time, we got a clear view of the surrounding snow-capped mountains. They were stunning, and I took a picture.

When I looked at the photo, I noticed power lines running across the view.

I hadn’t noticed them when I took the picture, but maybe that was the lesson.

No matter where you look, there’s always beauty and sadness. Maybe I just needed to look beyond the ugly and focus on the beautiful part. The camera can’t tell the difference, but I can.

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Next Week: Sarajevo - Going Beyond the Tourist Traps

Before arriving in Kosovo, I did my research and heard the food was fantastic. Well, almost.

First, it was hard to find local food. Pristina is trying so hard to be a player on the world stage that it seems to have a restaurant for every country in the world except its own.

Second, the local food is almost identical to that of Albania and much of the former Ottoman Empire. We’d already eaten most of the cuisine. We did try a few local places and they were good, but repetitive.

Third, we were doing well with our weight loss plan, and most of the local specialties weren’t diet friendly. At this in our travels, I’d only splurge if it fit our eating plan or if it was a specialty I’d never tried before.

For example, one of the many coffee shops near our hotel had a cookie flavored like another cookie, with the inspirational cookie sitting on top.

I’d never seen that before, but I knew I should spend my calories elsewhere. Despite our determination to eat light, the friendly people of Pristina constantly gave us food. Every coffee shop in town seemed to give you a little cookie with your coffee, and it’s hard to say no.

Our favorite coffee shop once gave us a slice of cheesecake in addition to our cookies. For free.

The little Italian restaurant next door brought out a giant loaf of olive bread with our simple shrimp scampi appetizer.

And the staff at the hotel bar regularly showed up with multiple snacks.

Of course, I couldn’t hurt their feelings.

Before we got to Kosovo, my research suggested that locals loved grilled and smoked meats, so I mapped out several local restaurants to try.

The first one was closed. I don’t know whether it was permanently closed or simply being renovated, but it wasn’t going to be an option during our stay.

The second turned out to be a disappointing fast-food place that barely served anything local and wasn’t particularly appetizing. It certainly wasn’t going to teach me anything about Kosovo.

Our hotel wasn’t much help either. There were no local dishes on either the restaurant or bar menu. I would’ve thought there’d be at least one, but everything seemed designed to appeal to an international audience.

Despite how wonderful the hotel was, the restaurant often felt like a group of friends had watched Food Network a few times and decided they were ready to open a restaurant.

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If you ordered the same dish more than once, it would be completely different every time. We ordered chicken wings three times and received three entirely different versions.

We had brisket sliders that arrived on folded pita bread instead of slider buns. They tasted good, but they weren’t exactly the real deal. The next time they came on rolls. The third time we ordered them, they never arrived at all.

I got my order, though. A very chunky bisque.

The manager came over to apologize, and my wife asked for her sliders to go because I needed to get back to work. It wasn’t much of an interruption for him, since we were the only people in the restaurant.

We went back to our room and here’s what we got instead.

It wasn’t just our hotel. A lot of restaurants almost got things right.

The fancy rooftop restaurant we visited had giant designer plates, large elaborate oil and vinegar decanters, and tiny bistro tables. Individually, each one made a dramatic high-end statement. Together, they created an awkward dining experience.

And don’t get me started on what passes for Caesar dressing. Although, to be fair, that’s true throughout much of the Balkans.

We also visited a lovely sushi restaurant. But iceberg lettuce does not belong in sushi.

There were so many places that almost got it right but never quite crossed the finish line.

Then it hit me. Maybe I did learn something about Pristina after all.

Just like the food, Pristina hasn’t completely figured out what it needs to do to compete on the world stage.

But, dammit, they’re trying.

After spending a month in Kosovo, I can see they’re very close to greatness.

They’re almost there.

And I’m ready to get back on my diet.

Almost.

Right after I finish this giant shot of limoncello.

It was free.

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Everywhere you turn, tall apartment buildings, office spaces, restaurants, and shops are being built. This is a city on the move, but it hasn’t quite finished yet.

There was barely a street with a complete sidewalk. Construction forced pedestrians onto busy roads and around heavy machinery that seemed to have nowhere else to go.

The buildings and sidewalks aren’t the only things that are new. Pristina is one of the youngest capital cities in the world. Pristina became a capital city in 2008 and its population is very young. Over half of the population is under 25 years old, and the median age is under 30.

It’s no surprise that a city that’s this young suffers from growing pains. In addition to everything being under construction, there seemed to be a staffing shortage. We had several meals where it felt like a single server was handling the entire restaurant, and many employees appeared to be new at their jobs. It felt like Pristina was growing faster than it could handle.

On the plus side, everyone was happy and friendly. They were even friendlier than the Albanians, if that’s possible. Of course, more than ninety percent of Kosovars are ethnically Albanian. The demographics of the region have shifted dramatically over the centuries. Serbia and Albania have spent generations fighting over this small piece of land, taking turns slaughtering each other.

That’s one reason Serbia still doesn’t recognize Kosovo’s independence and continues to view the territory as its own. At least that was the excuse for the most recent brutal atrocities. As with many wars, religious ideology is the underlying factor.

Eventually, the United States and the United Nations stepped in. That’s one reason Kosovars have such strong feelings about Americans. And by strong feelings, I mean love.

People would light up with excitement when they found out we were Americans. A few even thanked us, with tears in their eyes, for our role in helping secure their independence. They feel a genuine kinship with the United States and show it in countless ways.

There are streets and statues throughout the country commemorating America’s role in brokering peace and recognizing Kosovo.

The way they spell some names can be a little amusing, however. You can travel down Robert Doll Street (Bob Dole), turn onto Bulevardi Bill Klinton, and head toward Xhorxh Bush, which is actually George Bush.

Many countries still don’t recognize Kosovo as an independent nation. Some of them, such as Spain, are dealing with their own separatist movements and worry that recognizing Kosovo could weaken their position at home.

After almost a year in the Balkans, I can honestly say that Kosovo doesn’t feel like it belongs to another country. It is its own place.

Kosovo and Pristina are almost there. By the end of summer, I think most of these buildings will be finished. The sidewalks will be walkable again, and the streets won’t be clogged with construction vehicles. Outdoor cafés and rooftop restaurants will be bustling with customers.

Maybe I’m biased because we stayed in a luxe hotel, the citizens were friendly, and they loved Americans. Even so, what impressed me most was the optimism and determination of the people. They desperately want to build a great country, and they’re working hard to do it. They have a sense of purpose and direction that I didn’t see elsewhere in the Balkans.

It reminds me of when I was young, when the United Stats we excited about the future and we were all looking forward to what was coming next. I’m not sure how we lost that drive. It was refreshing to feel that electricity in the air again.

While I was in Kosovo, I felt as young as the country.

The only thing they need to work on now is how to cook.

Next Week: The “Almost” Food Post.

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“Kosovo? Really?”

That made me a bit nervous. All any of us knew about Kosovo was that it had gone through a horrific war in the late 1990s. My wife and I arrived with cautious optimism and were blown away by how much we liked Kosovo. But it almost didn’t start that way.

Our plane touched down just as the sun was setting. We prefer to arrive in a new place during the day, but there weren’t many flights to this little country. When we reached passport control, the young woman behind the glass asked if we wanted our passports stamped or if an electronic record was okay.

We mentioned that we might not have much room left because we’re full-time travelers.

She got excited and proudly said, “You need a passport stamp from Kosovo!”

She looked around, confused, and shouted in perfect English, “S**T! I forgot my stamp,” before bolting from the booth and disappearing from sight.

A few minutes later, she returned and happily stamped our passports. So far, so good.

The second we walked through the doors from passport control, we were approached by beggars. They weren’t aggressive, but it was unexpected. We scooted past them, headed outside, avoided more panhandlers, and made our way to the taxi stand. It was almost completely dark, and we wanted to get to our hotel as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, my research failed to inform me that taxis in Kosovo don’t take credit cards. I had to go back inside and pay the exorbitant airport ATM fees. As usual, the machine dispensed large bills, so I had to stop at the airport café to buy some snacks I didn’t want, just to get smaller denominations.

You don’t want to hand a taxi driver a €50 note because they never have enough change.

Right.

We returned to the taxi stand and hoped we’d get an honest driver. Our driver didn’t speak English, but he held up an official rate card, indicating that the fare was fixed. I felt much better after seeing that the taxis were regulated.

Like most airports, Prishtina’s airport is in the middle of nowhere. We drove down dark streets past warehouses, auto repair shops, and questionable hotels. We were starting to get nervous.

Then suddenly, we were surrounded by bright new buildings, modern digital billboards, and restaurants with crowded outside seating. I crossed my fingers and hoped our hotel was in a similarly nice area.

I had saved enough points with Marriott to cover twenty-five nights at the Courtyard by Marriott Prishtina. There were plenty of other hotels to choose from, but we decided to stay at one of the cheaper brands in order to stretch our points as far as possible. I just hoped it wouldn’t be a dump.

When we pulled up in front of the Courtyard, my wife, the driver, and I all gasped. It was the most luxurious Courtyard I’d ever seen. It was stunning. I’ve stayed in Ritz-Carltons that weren’t as nice.

In the U.S., it’s incredibly easy to get a hotel-branded credit card and receive instant status. In much of the rest of the world, status is harder to come by. The young man who checked us in seemed genuinely impressed by our Platinum status. He informed us that we’d been upgraded to a corner suite.

When we got to the room, we found an array of snacks, desserts, and a birthday message for me.

After a quick snack, we headed downstairs to the bar for a drink and to relax.

It wasn’t very busy, and the staff couldn’t have been more attentive. They brought us additional snacks for free and constantly checked to see if we needed anything. They were excited to have Americans visiting and staying as long as we were.

We had a great evening, and everyone was friendly. This was turning into a great start to our stay.

The next morning, it was time to explore the hotel. We’d heard there was a spa, pool, and gym on the third floor. What we didn’t know was that they occupied the entire floor. It was huge, luxurious, and brand new.

It was one of the largest hotel gyms I’d ever seen, packed with some of the most high-tech equipment imaginable. The machines didn’t use traditional weights. You simply entered the amount you wanted to lift, the machine measured your range of motion, and then guided you through each repetition with proper timing and range. If you had the app, you could automatically adjust settings and track your workouts.

The pool and spa area were equally phenomenal.

There were two saunas, yes, two, each set to different temperatures depending on your tolerance level. There was also a steam room and a Himalayan salt room. Salt rooms are supposed to be great for the respiratory system.

The pool was the same depth the entire length, but it was the perfect height for us to exercise in. And it was the perfect temperature.

Before we arrived, I had done a little research and discovered a nearby rooftop bar and restaurant. We were pleasantly surprised to find out it was on the roof of our hotel. The photos on Marriott’s website had been taken before it was added.

The staff at the rooftop bar were every bit as friendly as the hotel staff. From the 24th floor, we enjoyed cocktails while taking in panoramic views of Prishtina.

Everywhere we looked, new buildings and neighborhoods were rising from the ground. Everything we saw and experienced suggested this was a country that had moved beyond its war-torn past and was racing toward a promising future.

It took less than 24 hours to realize we didn’t just like Kosovo. We loved it.

Next week:

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One year ago, my wife and I boarded a plane and left the US to travel full time. After a year of travel trials and tribulations, people keep asking if we’re going to continue traveling full time. The answer may won’t shock you.

I’m not going to clickbait you. If you know me well enough, you already know the answer. It’s yes.

A person doesn’t sell everything they own, take a huge risk like this, and give up after a year. We just finished our 12th country in one year and are getting ready to head to number 13 in two days.

We still plan on traveling for as long as we can, but it’s a lot more difficult than most people imagine.

Many people say, “You’re living the life!” In reality, we’re just “living life.” We’re not on vacation. We still have to go to the dentist, do laundry, fix toilets, and handle all the normal day-to-day problems everyone else deals with.

Not only do we have to learn how to grocery shop in multiple languages, but we have to adapt to the limitations of rental homes and hotels. After decades of collecting household items we considered necessities, we’ve realized that much of the world considers them luxuries.

Dishwasher? Only in high-end rentals.
Microwave? Forget about it. Apparently only Americans drink coffee large enough to need reheating.
Clothes dryers? Slower than hanging clothes outside, even if you’re lucky enough to have one.
What’s a recliner?

On top of that, travel itself still sucks. Planes get delayed or canceled, prices fluctuate wildly, and even when everything goes right, it can still be exhausting. When you travel full time, you deal with the usual transportation headaches, just more often.

And on top of all of this, I’m still working. I still have to put in my hours, attend meetings, all while dealing with time zone differences. That makes it difficult to explore as much as we’d like, and it’s hard to form meaningful social connections when you’re constantly working.

Having said all that, there are plenty of positives. Otherwise, why would we keep doing this? Here are the reasons we plan to continue traveling for as long as we can.

It’s More Exciting

When you live somewhere for a long time, you stop noticing the things that make it special.

I used to work next door to the church where Patrick Henry gave his famous “Give me liberty, or give me death” speech. After a while, I barely thought about it, even though I probably walked past the spot where George Washington parked his horse.

When you constantly change locations, everything feels new and exciting again.

Even though I’m working, I still get to change my environment all the time. Instead of grabbing coffee from a drive-through on the way to work, my wife and I can walk through a park and stop at a real Italian café for cappuccinos. Or a French café. Or a Spanish one.

In Albania, we’d often walk down to the Adriatic Sea and have coffee along the waterfront.

A simple grocery run might take us past a unique art gallery or Roman ruins. An old statue or quirky architecture becomes a new source of wonder. Ordinary errands suddenly become experiences.

And before these places become routine, we move on to somewhere new.

Less Stress

Why is everyone in the US so angry? I forgot why.

Its Cheaper

A lot of people struggle to understand how full-time travel can actually cost less than living in the US. That’s because most people associate travel with vacations.

If you imagine a two-week dream trip to Paris, you picture expensive hotels, overpriced restaurants, tourist attractions, costly flights, and constant spending. If you can do a trip like that for under $10,000, you’re doing pretty well. And during all of that, you’re still paying your mortgage or rent back home.

On the other hand, we wouldn’t consider staying in Paris.

Smaller cities like Lille or Lyon have rental properties for $1,500 a month or less. We’ve even seen places under $500 a month, but we need to be near public transportation. Utilities, internet, and phone service cost less combined than what I used to pay for a single cell phone bill in the US.

And if we want a Paris vacation, we’re already in Europe. Flights and trains are relatively cheap when you’re not crossing an ocean, and travel times are dramatically shorter.

We can take a train to Paris, spend a couple of days seeing what we want to see, then head back to our rental apartment. There’s no pressure to “do it all” because this isn’t a once-in-a-lifetime trip.

We also have no expenses back home. I don’t own a house anymore, which means no mortgage, HOA fees, homeowner’s insurance, electric bill, water bill, lawn maintenance, or exterminator costs. The list of expenses we left behind goes on and on. Full-time travel isn’t added on top of our bills. It is our bills.

Two months living in France, experiencing authentic daily life while still visiting tourist attractions across multiple cities, can cost less than someone else’s two-week dream vacation.

And when we’re done, we get to do it all over again in another country.

Some people crave stability and the comforts of home, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We need to explore, see new places, eat new foods and meet new people.

Despite how difficult this lifestyle can be, we won’t stop until we have to.

It’s been one full year, and we’ve already experienced 12 “trips of a lifetime.”

And all it cost us was the convenience of a microwave, our favorite coffee mug, and a recliner.

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The Islamic culture emphasizes cleanliness. Mosques and other public spaces often include washing stations to clean up before praying. Or to freshen up while passing by or get a quick drink. Many have been updated and modernized, but the principle remains the same. Keep clean.

Another way to keep clean is to go to a hammam, a traditional public steam bath focused on deep cleansing and relaxation. Don’t worry, everyone stays covered up. The hammams of centuries ago would have holes in the domed ceiling to let in light. Modern versions have LEDs.

My wife and I enjoyed a couples hammam experience, which involved laying on a warm marble slab while the attendants poured soap bubbles on us. They scrubbed us with rough gloves to exfoliate us. It was a little intense, but they asked if they needed to lighten up or not. They concluded with a warm water rinse and a brief scalp massage. It was a bit odd, but our skin felt soft and smooth for weeks afterwards. And the whole couple’s experience cost less than a single massage.

Istanbul doesn’t have as many flags on display as the US (or Panama), but it makes up for it in size. There are oversized flags on several main streets and hanging from the side of tall buildings. The Turks are proud of their flag, and I have to admit, it’s a good design. Simple without being boring. (Poland, I’m looking at you).

I didn’t see any stand-alone single family homes. Everything was an apartment or looked like a multi-family home. There were a few small farm houses outside the city, but this was the exception.

There are mosques everywhere. Some are the huge mega-mosque variety and some are barely noticeable. Apparently the number and size of the minarets indicates status.

Istanbul is very hilly. If you turn down a side street, you could be looking at a steep and slippery slope.

Speaking of Topkapi Palace… It’s free to enter the grounds, but you have to pay to enter the buildings. The view when you’re past the gates is phenomenal. You get a panoramic view of Istanbul and the bodies of water that surround it.

Banks of ATMs are everywhere. I thought this was just in the tourist areas, but you’ll see these all over the place.

Where do the Ottomans Park?

Mustafa Kemal Atatürk is considered the founding father of the modern Republic of Türkiye, and is highly revered throughout the country. Pictures of him are everywhere, including the currency.

The only weird thing is that almost every picture has him looking up at something.

When I said there were a lot of cats in Istanbul, I wasn’t kidding. They’re everywhere. On every street. In every store. On the beach, etc.

Being distracted? Wait…

Next week: Off to Kosovo

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Foo Fighters - “Learn To Fly”

Turkey’s airports are some of the best in the world, and thank goodness for that. It seems like most flights in the region pass through Istanbul.

Turkey and Istanbul have been transportation hubs between East and West for thousands of years. Even today, Istanbul Airport (IST) is the second busiest airport in Europe after Heathrow, and only by the slimmest of margins. IST is expected to surpass the London airport in passenger traffic this year. Add in the airport on the Asian side of the city, and more than 130 million passengers travel through Istanbul every year.

Turkey has done an impressive job updating and expanding its airports to keep up with demand. The airports are busy but rarely feel crowded. They’re modern, , easy to navigate, and very expensive.

Expect to pay more than $10 for a coffee, $20 for beer or wine, and around $25 for a McDonald’s combo meal. It cost us nearly $50 for two glasses of wine and fries at Salt Bae’s restaurant. He’s from Turkey, by the way.

The Two Istanbul Airports Are Very Far Apart

The main airport, IST, was recently moved farther from the city center to accommodate future growth and increased traffic. The result is that Istanbul’s two airports now sit about 50 miles apart.

There are complaints that IST and SAW are too far outside the city. They really are. Thankfully, both airports have Metro stops, making it possible to travel between them, provided you have two to four hours and a lot of patience.

If you fly into SAW, just follow the signs to the Metro stop. It’s a long walk, but at least it’s indoors.

IST’s Metro station, however, requires a long walk outside. The path is covered, but when the wind is howling and the rain is coming sideways, it’s not exactly pleasant. We braved the cold because paying less than $3 to reach our hotel sounded much better than spending $75 on a taxi.

The IST Metro station is not the first stop, and we had to stand with all our luggage for almost an hour. A $75 taxi starts to sound a bit more reasonable.

As seasoned travelers, we usually stay near airports the night before flights to avoid transportation surprises. A quick five-minute taxi ride is preferable to wondering whether public transit is about to ruin your trip.

A Well-Deserved Reputation

We flew through both Istanbul airports, as well as airports in Ankara and Nevşehir in Cappadocia, and overall, we found them excellent.

One quirk of Turkish airports is that there’s security just to enter the building. Before you can even get inside, you pass through metal detectors and luggage scanners. After that, ticketed passengers still go through standard passport control and airport security.

Despite the double layer of screening, the pre-security area is actually pleasant. There are coffee shops, seating areas, and plenty of space for people waiting on arriving passengers or saying goodbye to family members.

In our case, we arrived too early to check in, so we spent the extra time sitting in one of the many cafés.

Modern Conveniences

We were surprised by how many thoughtful little details the airports included.

The escalators and moving walkways displayed which direction they were going. It sounds minor, but after nearly a year of full-time travel, I can confirm that people constantly walk into you because they aren’t paying attention.

Near baggage check-in, there were luggage scales! No more guessing whether your suitcase is overweight. You could weigh your bag, rearrange items, and immediately slide it back on the scale to check again. There was even a trash can beside it for last-minute discards.

Turkish Airlines also combines baggage weight allowances across your group. If one suitcase is slightly overweight and another is under the limit, it balances out. This should be proof that some airlines really are using surprise baggage fees as a money maker.

Ryanair, I’m looking at you.

We also used the self-check-in system for our luggage. I scanned my passport, and the machine printed out a self-adhesive baggage tag, which is a vast improvement of the kind you have to peel. I attached it, placed the bag on the conveyor belt, and the system automatically scanned and accepted it.

My wife repeated the process, and the machine displayed our combined weight total before our bags disappeared into the system.

Almost immediately, we received notifications through the Turkish Airlines app confirming the bags had been checked in. Later, we even got alerts when they were loaded onto the plane.

This is how an airline should operate.

We also saw helpful robots roaming around the airport. If you scanned your ticket, it would tell you what gate to go to, how to get there, and how many minutes it would take. The robot would also offer to lead the way. The airports were actually simple to navigate, but it’s a nice feature especially since you could pick the language.

There were multiple children’s play areas ranging from climbing ropes to slides that would delight any American lawyer, along with giant interactive video games.

During our visit, the airports were hosting a Ramadan village celebration with local crafts, souvenirs, and activities for children. There was a variety of local food and drink offered, which, ironically, couldn’t be enjoyed by anyone celebrating Ramadan.

As a note, in Turkey, they call it “Ramazan,” which sounds way cooler than “Ramadan.”

The Tiny Airport in Cappadocia

Almost all the airports in Turkey felt grand and impressive.

Then there was Nevşehir Airport.

It was the first time I’d ever landed in a full-sized jet, had the plane turn around at the end of the runway, and then taxi back down the same runway to the terminal because there simply wasn’t anywhere else to go.

Thankfully, there are only a handful of flights each day, so the odds of another plane landing on top of us was low.

On our return flight from Cappadocia, passengers were lined up outside an airport that felt only slightly larger than a trailer.

The employee directing everyone reminded me of Eric Idle, complete with a pencil-thin mustache and a constantly irritated look on his face.

After the initial security check, he moved a short distance away to handle baggage check-in. He took our bags and told us to proceed to Gate 1.

My wife burst out laughing because there was only one gate.

His scowl turned into a satisfied grin. Finally, someone got his joke!

I appreciate anyone who made it this far. Airports aren’t exactly the most exciting topic, but if you’re traveling through this region, there’s a good chance you’ll connect through Turkey.

Despite the enormous size and traffic volume, Turkish airports were some of the least stressful airports we’ve experienced anywhere in the world.

Travel is stressful enough already. It’s nice when the airport doesn’t add to it. At least, not too much.

Next Week: Turkey: Oddities and Interesting Observations

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