SNAPSHOT:
A Side Quest in Montenegro
A handwritten sign promised local treats further down the path, which led to the most bountiful garden I had ever seen. Enormous leaves shaded squash while trellises held vines heavy with bean pods, and all the while the scent of greenery and verdant leaves permeated the senses. This lovingly tended eden opened up into a view of Montenegro bay that would make any billionaire jealous.
A moment later, the near toothless proprietor stepped out of his little house grinning. I’d grin, too, if I were him, no matter how many teeth I had. I asked for one of everything, including the local liquor, rakia. Upon hearing this —at nine in the morning— his eyes sparkled and he returned with an extra glass for himself.
The rakia was crisp, slightly fruity, and invitingly strong. However, as I bit into my first bite of homemade goat cheese, it felt like a veil had been lifted from my eyes.
The world felt brighter, more real. It was as if I had been looking into a mirror my whole life and had finally turned around to see, not a flat reflection of reality, but true depth for the first time.
I woke before dawn to hike to the top of St. John’s Fortress in Kotor, Montenegro, but never made it to the top.
Instead, about three quarters of the way up, just off the path, I spotted an inconspicuous window in the wall. Glancing through revealed a thin dirt path that led to a tiny stone church. Of course, I hopped through. I could never resist a side quest.
Before I reached the ancient building, the gentle sound of bells filled the air. The ringing came closer and closer until the source was revealed - dozens of curious, long haired goats coming to see who had stepped into their secluded ravine.
A handwritten sign promised local treats further down the path, which led to the most bountiful garden I had ever seen. Enormous leaves shaded squash while trellises held vines heavy with bean pods, and all the while the scent of greenery and verdant leaves permeated the senses. This lovingly tended eden opened up into a view of Montenegro bay that would make any billionaire jealous.
Despite me not speaking Montenegrin and the host knowing only a few words of English, we spent a pleasant time conversing through hand gestures, vibes, and smiles and sipping our rakia.
It was through these gestures that the proprietor invited us into his home, where we were greeted by an equally toothless wife happily shelling beans into an enormous pot. He took us into a back room where he made the cheese, having previously noticed my rapture while devouring the slices.
Enthusiastic miming explained that the large flat stones pressing down the ripening cheese were taken from the crumbling fortress, or perhaps from what the fortress had been built upon. My research had shown that the path we had walked was much older than the 15th century construction. Indeed, the steps up had been proven to be from the Neolithic.
As I took my last look at the view and our smiling new friend, whose name I could never quite get, I thought of how much the world had changed, but it hadn’t changed much here. This was a place whose richness was created out of a love for life and a gratefulness for what was already in hand.
