🇲🇪 i almost Melted on the streets here!! Herceg novi, Montenegro

I invite you to join me in marvelous Montenegro for part one of this adventure series through one of the best kept secrets in all of Europe. Our adventure begins fresh of a night's rest in Dubrovnik. After crossing the border I made my way to Herceg Novi where I had three hours to kill until the next bus took off for the capital in Podgorica. Why were we in Montenegro in the first place? Well, as it turns out I am getting married this September. So why not meet up with my three other friends who are Americans living in Europe for that age old rite of passage ceremony known as the bachelor party aka stag do aka legény bucsu. Our adventures during the rest of the weekend will follow in parts two, three and four of #MontenegroWithWillie, but for now I invite you to an absolute gem of the town on the Adriatic known as Herceg Novi. It was called Castelnuovo by the Venetians, who occupied the place after King Tvrtko of Bosnia called it his. The Turks were there, the French for a brief spell under Bonaparte, it was a seaside fortress for the Habsburg's across from their ancient Italian enemies and even the Spanish and Russians came for a spell. Of course, like the rest of the Balkan region this fell under Yugoslav domain until dissolution in the 90's and the final separation of Montenegro from Serbia following the referendum of 2006. So today it is a Montenegrin place, but it continues to reflect all of the cultures who were here previously. History is etched upon the salt stained stones of this enchanting village by the sea. You can walk beneath the clock tower at the start of town in the main plaza to begin your adventure and find a lookout over the pulsing blues of Kotor Bay from the hill top church. After that it's all up to you, but make sure you take a lovely walk by the rocky sure to see Montenegrin's and Serbs and European holiday makers drinking in sun beside aquamarine ripples. There are 6 towers in total, including the Spanish fort which overlooks the entirety of Herceg Novi. Yet on a day as hot as mine was, you'd be better served meandering the old cobblestones and finding shade whenever possible within a perch or a pocket between the treelined stairs. Oh, Herceg Novi, with your sea shanty pubs, and fresh produce pushed by Montenegrin marketers, and Milan, that character from the market pub and the bus stop with the final views before leaving to return who knows when again. I found myself thinking about all of the time's I've traveled, and all of the people who I've met, and how Dan, the gatekeeper, at the entrance to the strand, somehow represented all of these meetings with strangers, with his kindness, and the time he took to remove all of his cigarettes and lighters and loose change so that I could finally find some shade, and get out of the hot, vibrating, fever dream inducing son. I thought of charlie and his gargoyle in Newquay and how that is a story for another time but now I am writing and not worrying one inkling about any of the punctuation, but I am writing and I am writing fast, and the words and stories and legions of lore flood from my fingers, the occasional misclick interrupts my progress, but now my eyes grow heavy, and I squint into the keys and realize that as they blur and music by icelandic band kiasmos bumps and the hot hungarian heat beats down on my shoulders, I know that I am slipping back into the receses of my memory and now my typing slows down, slows down from its furious pace and I relax in the haze of where am I? Panama. Lazar, the 6'10 belgian tilling his boat and dropping us off on the side of the red frog beach with pollo the crazy chicken man who was the Milan of that faraway land. There's always a guy like Milan. and One day I might be like him, but now I am the one meeting him, slugging down cold beers, cold lagers, biting nips of local spirits and in that near ecstatic, no, yes! evstatic moments when it's all gone just about as good and hectic and sweat pouring down and settling in my squishing socks and I'm sitting down on an old yugoslav socially planned bus seats and the world rushes by and I smile and relax at peace with a job well done.

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