Albania, Montenegro & Croatia - Wooo hooo

Since the last update we have had two weeks in Albania - wow, what a time! It is now high on our list of favourite countries. We didn't find the dangers that fog foreigner's minds from a decade ago (uprisings, crime). Instead, this diamond in the rough gave us everything we wanted out of our trip. Life changing experiences, breath-taking scenery, visible fascinating history, beautiful people who welcomed us to their tables and in their homes, looked out for us on the buses or just gave us a wave on the street. Many countries are friendly but this was another level. Traditionally guests were placed next to God, and we felt this trait at every turn.

There is the rough edges of a poor country (rubbish, broken communist buildings when everyone went on a looting rampage, some rough roads) but they are fast emerging from the ashes of a complicated history. Get in quick, this will have to be a travel hot spot soon.

The coast was spectacular. We sat on the beach drinking with boys from Kosovo and hung out playing chess with the guys at our beach side hotel; had the best fish meals of our lives; drove tiny, old road winding around the mountains that crash into the sea, shepherds and their flocks diving out of the way; sat on long pebble beaches all to ourselves with little coves to climb around to.

We explored ancient hilltop fortresses and checked out how Ottoman's lived in their mansions. We climbed in, on and around the indestructible bunkers that litter the entire country; placed there by Enver Hoxha's paranoia.

Mick on top of one of the many one-man size bunkers that will litter Albania for eternity

We stayed in the trendiest area of Tirana where the communist honchos once lived it up behind walls to keep everyone else out. We took in celebrity spotting as we stood with a media pack gawking at the Prime Minister.

Inspired by an evocative book about the Accursed Mountains, we just had to see them and the mountain people's traditional life for ourselves. The people used to live by a specific code, the Kanun, that included rules about conducting blood feuds. We took a guide, Florian. He is well educated, worldly and has a great laugh - we became good mates.

We travelled into the remote north, got a ferry up to a spectacular dam, stayed in traditional homes. On our six month anniversary we challenged ourselves walking over a mountain pass covered in snow with stunning weather and views.

Florian, Zeni (local Shepard) and Mick on our challenging walk in the Accursed Mountains

We stayed with a gorgeous grannie and her son for four days in a monstrous valley on the other side. We ate home made everything (butter, honey, raki etc) and explored the area. Tastiest water ever. We saw the tower men used to lock themselves up in forever to avoid being killed in a blood feud. Met kids who acted very grown up. Everyone was working hard in their fields.

We were the first Australians anyone in the village had met. How weird is that!

Alas, we left Albania and had a week on the Montenegrin coast. We enjoyed Ulcinj where the local men swam in their undies and lolled around in the black sand. Cute old town. Good local vino varieties.

There was more cute old walled towns along the small coast, along with big tourist holiday spots. We stayed in Kotor within the beautiful, old, walled, vibrant town on the edge of a stunning fjord. But I must admit, we were not in a touristy holiday mood and got a bit bored. Maybe we had too much excitement in Albania.

Now, we have just concluded another super duper highlight of the trip - a week on the Croatian island of Vis with our friends Ben and Emma. Again, it was everything we could ever hope for. We had quality time with good friends; met many friendly locals who invited us into their homes; learnt much of the islands history and culture; enjoyed charming villages with low key tourism and great restaurants - more fabulous fish dishes.

Emma and Ben took us to the gems of the island such as a winery set up in old WWII tunnels; a fancy dinner cooked in a Peka at another winery (like a big cast iron tagine - I want to buy one now!); swimming in special spots in the glittering blue sea; and a boat trip into a florescent blue sea cave that took our breath away. Their home in Vis town was a haven of cosy comfort.

Mick and Emma lit by the glowing blue cave, Bisevo Island

Time to go farewell them.

Greece - Cafe Loafing Wannabees

Mick and I have had a month in Greece now. There is a lot more to it, but we feel we have had a good look about Northern Greece.

We hung out with more Greek-residing Germans, marvelling the emerald (by Greek standards) isle of Samothraki where there are more goats than people. We wandered ruins of temples more ancient than the Olympian Gods with only some goat herders for company.

Bird watchers we are not, but you have to get excited about a flock of massive black vultures flying just over your head! We perched in a hide spying on three different types of vultures bickering over something dead. They deserve their reputation as looking menacing, but they are fascinating all the same.

The draft wine at dinner is cheaper than coca-cola; only once was it truly vile. We've eaten everything Greek in sight. There is such a thing as too much cheese. We haven't, however, had enough of Greek sweet shops. Service in bars and restaurants is second to none. Travel has been too easy as everyone is so friendly.

We tried to imitate the professional cafe loafers, sitting on one drink for hours. Mick discovered why they sometimes don't even bother finishing their token coffee - he had one and couldn't get to sleep until 3am.

We saw more snakes in one day than in my whole life. The pretty Prespa Lakes were ringed with tall reeds – a cesspit of musical frogs, birds and snakes. Since the mobs of Greek teenagers on a school trip didn't notice them (expect the bus driver stabbing some snakes with a stick), mobile phones still glued to their ears, we assumed they mustn't be poisonous and walked amongst them on the shore - carefully.

We drove around the stunning Zagoria villages for days in drizzle. Blending in with the mountains as they are made from the same stuff - slate, sturdy, proud - these villages cluster together in impossible locations in breathtaking mountain ranges. We brought on vertigo looking into the colossal Vikos Gorge; almost one kilometre deep, and over one kilometre across.

Me looking down into the immense Vikos Gorge

We finished up in Meteora marvelling the monasteries perched on giant rocks and hordes of tourists. Until then we hadn't seen many other foreigners, but here we were lucky to get a bed or not get run over by a tour bus.

A scene of the monastries of Meteora

Now we are in Albania. People are more reserved than the colourful Greeks, but friendly just the same. We were greeted by fields of one-size-fits-all bunkers poking out like mushrooms from crazier days of the mad dictator's, Enver Hoxha, reign.

Greece - Aaaaahhhh

Mick and I are now over a week into our post-wedding big travel adventure and I am afraid I might not have any of my travel tales of weirdness or laughable disasters. We are in Greece and it all has been.... lovely.

Highlights so far:

My brother Scott joined us for a week which was great fun to catch up.

Joining the Greeks in their Easter services. More like a orderly scrum at times, these services were attended by hundreds. At midnight on Easter Saturday we ended up shut inside a church while fire crackers went mad outside.

The island of Lesvos. Low key on tourism; its a big island of dramatic mountains currently coated in green grass, pungent wildflowers and endless ancient olive trees.

I tell you, Greeks can talk! We stayed in the main town of Mytilene for 24 hours and marvelled at hundreds of fashionable young things sitting in the funky cafes ALL DAY.

The sun on your face all day without (badly) burning.

Litres and litres of (kinda weak) red wine.

Lots of sleep.

Not being able to tear ourselves away from picture-perfect Molyvos in the north of Lesvos. It is everything you dream of in a Greek village – stone houses on top of each other up the steep cobbled streets, topped by an old fort, pretty painted shutters, cute boats in the stone harbour, plenty of healthy stray dogs and cats to play with, stunning views over the glassy Aegean and no foreign tourist crowds. The town ran out of food though as the Greeks on Easter holidays ate it all up. We drank Ouzo in a café with the old boys and went bush bashing through the terraced olive groves which was fun; Mick nearly stood on a black snake.

Mick, Ouzo and a pretty spot in Molyvos

Off the track in the South. Yesterday we stayed in an almost deserted village on a pretty pebble beach after twisting and turning on the wrong dirt road through crazy mountains. We met a mad old German, Claus (of course), who took us for a 4 x 4 drive up tracks to an impossibly high, tiny church while entertaining us with tales of what the commanding rock outcrops speak to him. He showed as much joy at the changing natural "theatres" as we climbed higher and higher as I imagine he did when first arriving here 15 years ago.

Now, we are back with the kids in the cafes waiting for a midnight ferry further North.

News

I'll get straight to my news, Mick and I are engaged! He completely surprised me, pulling the perfect ring from his pocket while walking down the street, after dinner. While gasping for breath the first thing I managed was, "you dag!".

We have been in QLD for my 30th birthday which turned into a great celebration, happy parents and excitement all round. Mick handled the endless introductions marvelously.

I hope you are all well.

Lightening across Laos

Mick and I have just finished three weeks in Laos. Alas, it is the end of our adventures for a while so this is the last rambling you’ll have from me.

Its been great traveling with Mick, he is fun and handy. Not only was he wearing his undies on the outside one day in Cambodia when he stopped boys from stealing our day pack out of the tuk-tuk we were traveling in (the bag didn't survive though - ripped in half) he has also been my consummate chauffeur around the remote areas of the south of Laos.

The highlight has been when we got off the track and took to the jungles of the Bolaven Plateau doubling on a tiny motorbike (think Vespa) with Mick driving. We gave the local hill tribal people plenty to laugh at: two giant Falang (foreigners) on one struggling little bike, egg shell-shaped helmets and sometimes coming to undignified halts. We whizzed past squealing kids springing into water holes in the nuddy, traditional basic thatched huts with satellite dishes attached, women hand pummeling rice, dense jungle and stunning views up at the plateau. The area is famous for its Arabica coffee. It must be good because I, being a dedicated non-drinker, ended up guzzling plenty of it.

Mick and our poor little bike

We bought tribal textiles and stayed in a haunted hotel in a tiny town. It was a case Scooby-Do might investigate. We had howling dogs, slamming shutters and someone banging to get in the hotel and then trying our door in the dead of night. Apparently it is two Malaysian tourists who died in the river coming back for their luggage.

At this point we were hooked and continued further into the remote South East. People gaped open-mouthed even more at the sight of us, and only the quickest kids screamed out "sabady" (hello) before we disappeared. With only one change of clothes each I did lots of hand washing. Our visit here was perfect timing. We got the benefit of a sparkling new road (that has opened a new boarder to Vietnam) but shared it with no tourists, yet. There was more buffalo, chooks, dogs and goats than traffic. The massive hotel in bustling Attapeu we stayed in was empty, but brimming with potential as the manager gleefully set up his tour desk in anticipation of the tourists that will use the new route. It will lose its charm, but that’s progress. We ate grilled goats liver with Beer Lao and crashed when everyone else did at 9pm.

Mick skillfully got us 20 kms along a boggy dirt road to the Ho Chi Min trail where he climbed on top of the Soviet missile still sitting there in its launcher. He rapidly howled off it again as a wasp took a chunk out of him.

The split second before Mick bolted off the rocket with a howl of pain

There is UXO (unexploded ordinance) absolutely everywhere, killing plenty of farmers every year. We dropped in on LAO UXO (the National Clearance Agengy of Laos) to look at their collection of retrieved stuff. The poor girl who spoke a bit of English just couldn’t understand we had just come to take photos.

Waterfalls were another highlight of the area. Mick climbed up behind them and came back with sore fingers from clutching to ledges as he nearly got washed away. Some places had gorgeous resort accommodation, at only $16 USD but they felt luxurious.

Mick behind a thundering waterfall

At all times during our stay in Laos spectacular storms have brewed. Clouds so dense and dark it felt we could disappear in them. The sky is always flashing. We got caught in downpours while on pushbikes one day, and watched kids go nuts and dance. Lightening claps have gone off like bombs over our heads in the middle of the night. Exhilarating.

We got back without a scratch but nearly killed the bike. I thought the engine was going to blow and take our ankles with it.

We finally headed North to the capital where we dined on French cuisine that we never could afford at home. Then we moved onto Luang Prabang, a tranquil town of 100 wats where the better-off-in-Ibiza backpacker scene was in full swing. The north looks stunning, we have to come back sometime. Now, we must drag our kilos of purchases home and start saving for the next trip!

Love
Suze

Cambodia - Pol Pot Pol Pot Pol Pot

I last wrote half way through Cuba, where I was off on my own for two weeks. I found beautiful colonial towns; determined methods to shake the blokes of my back (I would sit on a bench half in the sun so they would wilt within minutes of sitting with me); ate like the locals and thus started to develop a bum like the them; people watched for hours in fascination of their intermingled lives but never really got the "Cuban" experience I hoped for. So if you go, learn Spanish so you can talk to people other than those wanting you to buy them a drink, and take someone with you, preferable of the opposite sex. It isn't a great place to be solo, on the wallet and the ears.

Now I am in South East Asia. The bum and just about every fluid in me has melted off in the suffocating humidity. I am with Mick, my boyfriend, and we just finished two weeks in Cambodia. I am afraid he might drown in his sweat one day.

Cambodia. Some things where what I expected, some not.

Expected:
The people are remarkable. I would look at anyone old enough to have lived through the seventies, and not be able to comprehend the horror they must have seen. And they still have smiles firmly fixed. We have learnt a lot about the carnage of various wars, particularly the genocide of the Khmer Rouge, and have seen torture chambers that evil dreamt up. But, as a whole Cambodians are polite, always cheerful, smiling and charming. No one talks about the horrors; they want to move on.

Unexpected:
Hordes of tourist touts descended on us at certain points. When I had three young guys inches from my face shouting the benefits of their hotels in only a very small village, I realised Cambodia is far from the "emerging" travel spot I naively imagined. It is so well trodden it is a highway. This was especially evident one night, 3am, when the paper thin fibro wall to our left started vibrating from an argument in some pommy accent, while the wall to the right started shaking from a couple banging away so violently our bed shook with them. We have avoided backpacker ghettos since.

Expected:
Angkor Wat was magic. We splashed out on a guide for two days. He was worth his weight in gold for what he taught us about the intricate stories carved into the sandstone. We saw temples being strangled by trees, flaming saffron monks flitting amongst the grey stones, and exquisitely carved dancing women with jewels in their hair and voluptuous chests. It is as good as you think it would be.

Mick with our charming guide at one of the ruins of Angkor Wat

Unexpected:
We spent a lot more money than I have ever thought I would in a third world country. I have truly moved up from arse-hanging-out-of-my-shorts traveller to someone who runs into an airport and pays a premium to jump on the first plane, gets guides in most areas to give us insights into their culture and to pretend to be our friend, buys silks worth a local's yearly wage, while at the same time still insisting on talking down the room for the night from $5 to $4 and feeling proud of it. But, I think moving up the budget rung is worth it in Cambodia, it isn't as cheap as its neighbouring countries, and we have got a lot more out of our time and the experience by spending that bit more.

Expected:
There was one area that lived up to the remote jungle and tribes I had envisioned: Ratanakiri in the North East. We hung around at a twisted, collapsed bridge while waiting for our car to be floated across the river on a raft.

An enterprising ferry business that popped up overnight as the bridge in the background completely collapsed.

The road in was like a rally track. We had an entire eco lodge to ourselves; flies and geckos kept us entertained at night. We swam in a crater lake surrounded by lush jungle. We were guided through an indigenous tribe's farms and homes where they still live quite traditionally. We rode an elephant. Only when I was three metres up on his back did it cross my mind he might have a mind of his own. Just like a horse he didn't want to go, constantly stopped to pull down trees, and sped up when he knew he was on the home stretch.

Unexpected:
We crossed from Cambodia into Laos in the bush. Two very basic little huts, each a one-man-band without uniforms. No problems. No attitude. They were the nicest immigration guys I've met in a while. Hang on, maybe that should have been expected.

We are in Laos now, it is going great, but I will take up your time about that later.

Cuba - Baby got Back

In case you didn't know, I've been kicking around Cuba with a friend, Trude, for two weeks. We've sat on icing sugar white beaches, studded with palms. Swam in liquid crystal water. Eaten like royalty in private homes stuck in 1950's time traps. Rum and music are everything in the evening; one night we felt like we were in a vintage movie as we cruised in an antique Chevy, hosted by two young Cuban male models.

Right, now that you have called me B...!....T....C....H at least once I have got that out of the road and can fill you in on what little I understand of Cuba.

1. MC Hammer is not the tune I expected to have in my head but the bums of cartoon proportions on the women have me gaping. Fair enough, many are of African descent, but it must be difficult getting through doors.

2. The women can wear anything they like as long as it is skin tight and tacky. Combined with point one, imagine white bike shorts stretched to be see-through, teamed with a rolls of fat escaping a halter top. Never again will I scoff at teenage Australian chicks sporting their muffin tops. They are amateurs compared to the Cubans. (For a definition on muffin
top - email me later)

3. Communism means food is a limited resource. Rationed and too expensive, food that is affordable to people seems to be mostly oily pizza, anything fried and anything pastry. Hence, the rolls on parade. Atkins would have a heart attack.

A popular meal: something like pizza that needed the oil squeezed out of it before eating

4. In stark contrast, we eat like Queens in the private homes licenced to have tourists stay.

5. Point 4 makes it hard to understand how everyone else lives. Self-righteous tourists declare they have nothing. A taxi driver told me how bad the West's obsession with money is. Everyone is educated. The arts are ubiquitous. Plenty of young men hang on corners with nothing to do but provoke the girls (and me) to want to hit them. I enjoy a life free from visual advertising pollution, to be replaced by endless political slogans on billboards and buildings. They queue for banks and buckets of water, but the greatest queue of all is for ice-cream. Yesterday I saw three girls scoffing huge cones, three each! They love it.

One of the many political billboards featuring Che: a man without blemish and without fear. Photo courtesy of Trude.

In summary, I know nothing: contradictions everywhere. It feels as if understanding the culture is kept behind a veneer labelled TOURISM that I can't see behind, especially without Spanish.

I am on my own now for 12 days and already today three people have wanted to be my friend (and my brother's special friend apparently - look out Scotty one sexy chick has your address). But, I don't know how far to trust people; tourism has meant hassle in some places. So, I am trying to keep away from the tourist hot spots, and I hope my next report will have more tales of mayhem, missing from the first two weeks.

Anyhoo, I'm off to sit in park to work on the art of doing nothing, and learn how to say "I and my brothers are married".