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Kotor is rated as Montenegro's number 2 tourist attraction, according to the tourist office website. The walled old town sits on the edge of a fjord deep enough for cruise liners to anchor in, with dizzyingly high rocky terrain behind the town. By craning our necks we could look up to the remnants of city defences zig zagging down the near vertical hill face and the castle ruins crowning the ridge above. Over the centuries the city has exchanged rulers more regularly than I exchange library books. The Venetians, the Ottomans, the Austro-Hungarians, the French, and even the British have held it. Apparently the British took it from the French after hauling their ships' cannons up the ridge above the castle - an astonishing feat when you see the gradient!
An earthquake in 1979 destroyed a large part of the city, but we did not notice much evidence of the destruction as we explored inside the city walls - there were old buildings and churches everywhere! We also noticed a lot of cats. They were very used to tourists, some refusing to budge from where they were sprawled in a sunny square as we stepped around them.
A summer art exhibition had taken over the city, extending beyond the art gallery to the town's many squares. One square had a washing line in it hung with giant clothing, another square had witches' brooms suspended in flying formation above our heads, and yet another square surprised us with floating pink umbrellas!
With a long drive ahead, we cut our Kotor visit short, and set off towards the Montenegrin border. The most direct route took us around the peninsula opposite Kotor, to the car ferry across the inlet, thus avoiding having to drive back around the entire fjord. But though the map showed this peninsula route as a main road, the reality was quite different. As wide as a single lane road at home, and with stone walls and buildings on one side and a drop off to the sea on the other side, Dale cautiously drove along dodging pedestrians (there are no footpaths) and keeping a wary eye out for oncoming traffic. Each time we encountered a car coming towards us Dale would slow to a crawl, Tim would stick his head out the window and tell Dale how much room he had before we fell into the sea, then Dale would inch past the other car as we in the back held our breath. At one point we rounded a corner and saw a bus trundling towards us, Tim's voice got a little tight as he told Dale "that's enough", only letting us know after the bus had gone by that there had been only 20cm to spare on Dale's right.
I felt sick from the stress of it all by the time we reached the ferry. Fortunately, the crossing went without incident and it wasn't long until we were again queuing at the Montenegrin border. We sat for an hour as the border control intensively scrutinised those in front of us. We weren't sure quite why such rigorous checks were needed at the Montenegrin side of the border, but we sat there watching as the queue next to us moved more quickly. Finally, it was our turn. The man in the booth flicked through our passports, stamped them, and let us through in under a minute - obviously he was happy to be rid of 2 kiwis, a Pom and a Kraut! (Beks and Tim are travelling on their British and German passports).
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