Ho Hum

Trust the best bus company in Czech Republic to not have a ticket counter in a city like Vienna - where tons of travellers rely on this cheap and efficient mode of transportation to get to/from the two popular destinations. Indeed, I spent more time waiting outside the Vienna Airport for a Big Yellow Bus than exploring the city itself. Reason being that I wanted change my date of departure back to Prague to a day earlier.

My love for Vienna the first time I was there is unbeatable. The city's charm was lost on me this second time around. This is highly likely contributed in part by the fog that followed us all the way from Ljubljana. Also, at that point of our trip, I was ready to take a break from all the downsides of backpacking. I was craving hot, home-cooked food (no more PB-no-J sandwiches, please!), waking up as late as I want, and tired of worrying about accommodation availability and being on schedule to catch trains. Backpackers' spontaneity is only enjoyable when one has no time restriction.

Regardless, Vienna was fun for an entirely different reason: an old friend of Swan's from Slovakia - whom she'd met in New Zealand eight years ago - hopped on a train from Bratislava to meet up with us. We had a blast catching up and reminiscing about our good days in KiwiLand.

All in all, a good way to wrap up our 17-day shenanigan traipsing around the Balkans.
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Zbogom, Republika Slovenija

My ex-roommate's boyfriend's roommate backpacked around Europe last summer and mentioned that Slovenia was his favourite country out of all the countries he'd visited. Conversations with fellow backpackers sealed our decision in making a quick pit stop to Slovenia's capital en route to Vienna.

Ljubljana was...boring. Even the castle was lackluster. Fine, I admit to my docking off major points for a lousy cheesecake I had in a popular kavarna that came highly recommended by Lonely Planet.

The only two cool things I did were:

(1) Stay in a former prison on the site of former military barracks - which was also the Slovenian headquarters of the Yugoslav National Army
(2) Chow down on a horseburger. Yes, I do mean those beautiful (but smelly) creatures that go neigh-hey-hey-hey.

This ginormous hunk of a horseburger puts McD's puny beefburgers to shame

A thick fog shrouding the city made us think twice about our initial plans to head to Bled the following day.

Me: Do we stick to the plan, or just forget about Bled and head to Vienna earlier?

Swan: Well...we've seen lakes, right? We've seen castles too. (ponders) You decide.

And so, I decided that we head to Vienna earlier. Na svidenje, Ljubljana. I don't think I'll ever see you again.

Powering Through

Much as I'm a city girl, I also love the sun and the sea. Nothing makes me happier than spending hours lazing under the sun while listening to the waves pounding onto the shore. We barely spent 24 hours in Split but managed to absorb some UV rays (yay!) and feed the bed bugs (yikes).

Granted, while Split may be more of a harbour town and lacked sandy beaches with big waves, it was still nice (sans the bed bugs). But in no way comparable to Dubrovnik.

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Dammit, Damp Dubrovnik

The weather hates me. From pouring rain in Mostar, we arrived to a relentless drizzle in Dubrovnik.

Getting to the Old Town and finding the guest house we wanted to stay in wasn't hard. But when five minutes of hammering down the door drew no response, we started having a sinking feeling that looking for accommodation without any prior booking wasn't so smart after all. It's early Saturday evening, and the town was dead. Where IS everyone?

I dug through my coat pockets for other accommodation options...and drew out crumpled balls of paper that are almost in mush. We could barely make out the directions - I'd forgotten to write down the address or phone number; you'd wonder how I made it to university - but decided to chance it anyway.

It turned out to be a jackpot with this one: the Papa ushered us into their home without as much of a blink of surprise upon our unannounced arrival. The Mama fussed over our cold hands, steered us to the dining table, then set a plate of cookies and wee silver goblets filled with home-made slivovka in front of us.

This is unlike any hostel stay that I've experienced, and I liked it.

Dubrovnik is pretty. Pretty wet, that is, even on the second day. There are also more pigeons and stray cats (plus one dog) around compared to people. Seeking shelter from the rain outside the front doors of Palača Sponza meant that we had a chance of befriending them.

Note the Burberry-esque umbrella between the cat and the dog.  It was kindly loaned
to us by Mama Milka; one that didn't turn inside out or flop uselessly on one side.

The rain finally let up on our third day. Rejoice!

Pace of life in Dubrovnik is unhurried. Rather refreshing from the hectic city life that I'm used to. It's lovely here. At the same time, having to deal with a warm 14°C compared to -13°C a mere two days ago in Sarajevo was, in my opinion, quite excellent.

Canon by the cannon. Say "Aaa-ar!"

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Mostar, I Wish I Saw You on a Dry Day

It was pouring rain when we arrived in Mostar. We had vetoed the idea of staying the night and even though there were no night buses running to Dubrovnik, we bought the tickets anyway. Meaning we had only three hours to plunder through Mostar in the rain. Fun stuff.

People who know me well will know that I am not good company when I am in one of my moods. Combine that with:

• Lack of sleep:
• we woke up at the atrocious hour of 5.00am to catch the first tram to the train station
• Hunger:
• we had survived on Turkish coffee, white bread with peanut butter - AND skipped dinner - for the past three days. Totally our fault, but STILL.
• Torrential downpour and a broken umbrella
• I must have looked hysterically ridiculous walking around like this:

Yup, I'm trying to set a new fashion statement here

If there was anything that could've put me in a foul(er) mood, wet jeans and wetter socks did it. I was pissed M-A-D at everything and everyone. I'm just glad that Swan was tolerant enough to not just walk away and leave me at some strange Bosnian countryside.Oh yeah, the sh*tty crap of an umbrella is lying somewhere in a Dubrovnik rubbish dump.

Thinking back, Mostar is a quaint little town with its own unique set of war stories to tell. I think I would have quite liked the place had I saw it on a rainless day.


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Snow-Woah-Jevo

As I huffed and puffed up that killer hill to my hostel (dang, I really need to get back in shape), Muslim prayers from the mosques echoed around Sarajevo. It brought me right back to my childhood/teens in Malaysia where I would wake up such sounds at 6.00am to get ready for school. My knowledge of Bosnia and Herzegovina consists of fragmented memories from news broadcasts, of people running helter-skelter for their lives as the kerrump of shells and the clattering of bullets punctuated the air in the Bosnian War.

Headstones as far as the eyes can see.  Date of deaths are between 1992 - 1995.
There are tons of cemeteries like this one in Sarajevo.

I remember that day very clearly. Everywhere, there were pieces of papers on fire flying around. The sky was black. How could it not be? 5 million books all burnt.
- Mustafa, our tour guide relating to us the day the bomb hit the national library -

What did I know about war and death back then? While I was busy sitting in front of the TV watching Captain Planet kick major butt to "Save the Planet", children of the same age were living their lives in terror on the other side of the world, wondering whether they would be able to live and see another day. Kinda ironic, if you ask me.

To see buildings with empty windows gaping like skeletal eye sockets, and lots still carrying the scars and bullet holes from years passed, I can only imagine the terror and devastation of the people during that awful time. How ignorant and naive a life I have lived; but how blessed. What an eye-opening experience.

Sarajevo will remain one of the most fascinating cities I have visited. It helped that they served great Turkish coffee in cute little copper mugs. Definitely gave new meaning to coffee "Oomph".

Turkish coffee rocks my socks

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The Sensational Foot Flub

I bailed royally on an icy step today. It was rather spectacular, really. There was a misjudgment and misstep of my footing, my arms flailed around for a bit, my feet desperately seeking some sort of traction, then ˝PWFUMP˝ I sat down hard on my butt. There was a second of silence before Swan burst into peals of laughter - but made no attempt whatsoever to help me up.

Ah, sisterly love.

山啊、水啊、雪啊、冰阿

Title Translation: Hills, Water, Snow, Ice

40 minutes of waiting and shivering out in the cold, waiting for the bus that was to take us back to Zagreb, the random lyrics "I don't wanna wait another minute, put me out of my misery" churned repeatedly like a broken record in my head. What possessed us to think that taking a walk through Croatia's famous Plitviće National Park - the paths of which were buried under 3 inches of snow - on New Year's Day was a good idea, I don't know.

X X X X X

08.36
We were despairing over the fact that we only had USD$24 worth of Croatian kuna in our pockets after our bus ticket purchase; there was only 4 minutes left to catch the bus, but without local currency, we had no way of returning to the city. Right. We decided that Swan would go delay the bus driver while I run to the exchange office. With the entire bus and the cranky, grumbling conductor waiting for me, I sheepishly found my seat and contemplated digging myself a hole to hide in. What a way to start off the new year.

10.55
We got dropped off at the entrance of the park - the one that was closed, that is. Entrance 1 was 3.5km away. Bloody brilliant. But the trek was well-worthed it; my pictures of the park does it no justice whatsoever.

13.45
Tired of trudging through snow and slipping on icy steps, we retreated to a café that promptly kicked us out at 15.15. And hence, we found ourselves sitting out in the cold, waiting for the bus that was due to arrive 1.5 hours later.

15.55
Swan started counting cars that passed by, convinced that by the time we hit the 100th car, the bus would arrive. I sang out loud to take my mind off the fact that my toes had probably fell off and was rattling around like dices in my shoes.

16.45
89 cars later, we breathed a sigh of relief as we boarded the crowded bus in the advancing dusk.

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ZZzzz-Zagreb

I don't know what it is about this city. Maybe it's the fact that it was snowing and freezing cold. Or maybe I've seen too many European cities and this one lacked the charm and prettiness of say, Prague or Budapest. Either way, the city fell short of my expectations.

And thus, I took to taking pictures of tombstones in the Mirogoj Cemetary and icicles on trees...

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