And we hadn't even entered the war zone yet ;-)


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Journaling:


We intended to spend the night at the nearby town of St Stefan, but when we drove down the steep track to the campground (followed by a van of Australians) we found it burnt out and abandoned. We managed to find a family to rent us a room in their house, which meant sitting and sipping sickly sweet bright red cordial while they sat and smiled and nodded at us. The next day the drive along the coast was beautiful in the sun, but the water was too cold for swimming and the rebuilt houses of the picturesque town of Budva were empty waiting for tourists that would never come. We left the coast and headed inland towards Titograd along a steep road with lots of tunnels roughly hewn through the rock. Titograd was nothing but muddy streets and ugly concrete housing blocks. We carried on up the Moraca gorge past Muslim women tending their one or two sheep and men cantering down the road in rickety horse-drawn carts. The road was steep, winding and very narrow so when we turned a corner to see a truck stopped dead in front of us XXX had no choice but to brake and try to avoid it, sending us into a skid. Another truck came around the bend but thankfully managed to stop just behind us. Then an orange car came fast around the bend and flew off the road and down the bank. They were OK, and joined the crowd standing around. For two hours we waited until earth moving equipment arrived to clear the huge rock fall and several smashed cars ahead. It should have been a relief to arrive at Ivangrad, our stop for the night, but it was another spectacularly ugly town with smoky, stinking air and locals who turned to stare as we walked down the muddy streets.