Slovenia

I see Tine waving at me the moment I step off the train in Ljubljana. Our connetion is through mutal friends back in Ohio. Tine belives that any friend of Eric and Becky is a friend of his, and so I am fortunate to have a charasmatic guide show me around Slovenia! We drive thirty minutes to his home in Duplej village. The houses in Duplej are constructed with the expectation that they will house multiple generations. Tines house has the feel of two studio apartments stacked on top of one another with his mom, Dragi, living on the first floor and Tine on the second. Dragi gives me a room next to hers on the first floor which is furnished with a large bed, two toasty duvets and a beat-up acoustic guitar. Love it.

After a delicious dinner of goulash, potato bits called noki, beets drizzled with pumpkin oil and red wine from the Primorsa region, Tine drives us to the nearby town of Kranj. We walk around, passing a hare krishna street band and the statue of France Preseren, Slovenias national poet. Back at the house, we sip chai and play Slovenia the board game. The object of the game is to visit all the destinations on the cards you draw before the other players. The rulebook states "We wish you a pleasant journey and do not forget that it does not count so much who the winner is. It is important that you learn mroe about Slovenia through this game." Ha, so cute. As I prepare for bed, Dragi hears me blowing my nose (this is a result of a cat allergy). She urges me to knock back a shot of Domaci Brenjevece for good health. This berry concoction is 40% alcohol and produces a pleasant sort of burn in my throat.

The sky sprinkles rain as we drive to Piran the next morning but relents once we arrive. Boats involved in a regatta race by. Old women peek out from behind curtained windows. Children kick a ball in a courtyard near the coastal path. Then I see a parade! Apparently, we have caught Pirans annual Solinarski Prazink (Salt Festival) which includes elements of traditional dress, music, and dance. Teenagers dressed in red velvet coats twirl blue patterned flags as they march down the street behind the drummers. We climb up the bell tower overlooking Tartini market. Tubas play a jaunty tune while couples dance. Lastovce birds fly above remnants of a castle to my left and the orange village rooftops to my right. Tine explains the roofs are angled and sealed specifically to handle burja, the strong winds Piran encounters.

We wind down a pathwhere bouquets of herbs adorn heavy wooden doors to the rose-coloerd Berecanka building, adjacent to Tartini Square. The market is busy with merchants selling wine, jewelry, soap, food, and various trinkets. I sample dried pears, figs, and homemade bread. Yum! For lunch, we split a platter of prosciutto, crusty bread olives, and sheep cheese accompanied by refosk wine. I love the cafe culture in Europe and how you can simply meander down a street until you find a place you want to eat--no driving required!

After Piran, we stop a the Skojan Cave area. Tours of the caves have closed for the day so we like to a lovely viewpoint past bori trees and preserved village buildings. The signposts are all in Slovenian so Tine translates. I joke that he could tell me they say just about anything and I would have to take his word for it. I enjoy looking a the karst formations and the rushing Reka river below. Slovenia is so beautiful! I love how accessible diverse landscapes are in this small country.

We spend the next day at Lake Bled. A rowing competition is taking place here. Fans cheer "Shimala, shimala, dai dai!" (almost there, come on come on!) We walk around the lake, admiring Bled's fortress high atop a rock formation. Boats ferry visitors to the lake's island church. Tine laughs a how often I am so struck by the scenery that I must stop to take a photo, write in my journal, or simply star in awe at the beauty before me. The karavanke mountains are particularly stunning today with tendrils of snow falling from icy peaks against a cloudless blue sky. I see many affectionate couples, both young and old. Tine's view on public displays of affection: "Americans are too limited. They say 'get a room' to couples kissing and hugging but in Europe no one would ever say that. In America, there is more talk about relationships and less action."

I'm rockin' out to the Slovenian version of Age of Aquarious as we drive a winding road framed by thin trees with lime green leaves. We hike to astonishingly beautiful Savica waterfall. Begin with a karst that touches the sky. Follow a diagonal path downward until you meet a double waterfall that cascades into a listerine-colored pool before plunging again over speckled rocks into the curvaceous river below. We wrap up the day exploring and relaxing at Bohinj where lovely cottages surround its lake.

Tine has to work during the weekdays and drops me off in Ljubljana for two of them. This city is home to about 200,000 residents--a perfect bite size capital for the likes of me. I walk past the Dragon bridge and the open-air market where merchants sell everything from shoes, to fresh flowers, to I feel slovenia shirts. I love the whimsy of this place. I see three people dressed in strange costumes handing out flyers for an event at a children's bookstore. Later on a woman rides by on an over-sized tricycle and hands me a newspaper. And I finally see the women wearing wacky, patterned tights like Marty mentioned he saw in Prague. I want some!

A gravel path leads up to Ljubljana's castle. It is also possible to reach by funicular, but the day is such a perfect temperature I feel compelled to hike it. I visit the free art exhibit in the castle's kazemate, an area previously used as a prison. The cool, cave-like, and dimly lit atmosphere lends an eerie aura to Rafael Samer's "Revelation." Most of the sculpted wax is geometric. Positioned atop a bed of woodchips, the metallic-hued cubes make me think I have stumbled upon a cache of alien presents within a dark forest. A higher platform displays a ring of perfectly formed golden roses. In between the two, a connecting platform holds a series of black wax boxes. I can't begin to guess what it all means but that is why art is so fun. There are as many perspectives as there are people.

Tine meets up with me after work and we stroll through Tivoli Park where there is an open-air photo exhibit about Slovenia's cave exploration history. I marvel at blown up photos of strange animals, such as the olm which has no pigment or eyes and senses heat with its body. There are couples lying on blankets in the grass, overturned bikes next to them. Tine challenges me to eat horse, so we order horse burgers at a joint called Hot Horse in the middle of the park. It is a bit tougher than a typical burger but not unpleasant. Dessert is Kremsnita, a blonde tiramisu sort of concoction that Tine promises will "knock my socks out." Mmm, it sure does!

The morning I leave for Budapest, I am a bit sad. I have so enjoyed getting to know Tine, his family, and gorgeous Slovenia I already feel attached to it.

Plitvice Lakes National Park, Croatia

Other than a minor collision with a cow, my journey over the Bosnian-Croatia border near Bihac is uneventful. The van drops Marty and I in Grabovac, a tiny town about 8 km from the entrance to Plitvice Lakes National Park. Plitvice is surrounded by the Lika mountains and boasts sixteen lakes, forest trails, and countless waterfalls. It's a dynamic place where algae, moss, and the sedimentation of calcium carbonate work to continually change the natural features. The lakes colors can appear blue or green depending on the amount of travertine deposits in the water. I cannot wait to experience this place!

The most centrally located hotel is too pricey, so we start walking toward a cluster of houses nearby where we saw several "Sobe" (rooms) signs during the ride into town. We are delighted to find Lou who speaks great English and has a large room with two beds, hardwood floors, a nice bathroom and free wi-fi for 15 euros per person. Lou's husband kindly offers to drive us to the park entrance on his way to work tomorrow at 7:30am. Fantastic!

I wake to a chilly, overcast day but I am not deterred. The park is just opening as we arrive. At 110 kuna (about $20 usd) the entry fee is a little pricey but that also includes boat rides across two of the largest lakes. Marty, awesome friend that he is, holds my bag so I can go for a run, unencumbered. We agree to meet up later but we are not specific enough about our meeting place and end up running into each other out of sheer luck at the boat dock!

I feel amazing while running. It is one of those days where I feel like I could run forever. I want to explore as much of this unique landscape as possible. Waterfalls are everywhere. Long, wispy trickles. Thick, rushing flows. Tiny cascades right by my feet. They feed into lakes that are green today. Some are emerald while others look like green tea. I spot a small black salamander with orange spots between planks of the wooden walkway and another along the forested "K" trail. I pause at a particularly stunning viewpoint and savor some time of pure peace.

After hours of running and hiking, Marty and I are exhausted. The weather is also changing and rain is imminent. We hike back to the parks entrance. I sleep most of the way to Zagreb, Croatia's capital city. We stay at Buzz Backpackers, staffed by super sweet Andrea, who gives us the web discount even though we did not book in advance. Tomorrow Marty and I will part ways--he heads to Belgrade, Serbia and I am off to Ljubljana, Slovenia. We spent this last evening eating pizza, joking around, and sharing pictures. The next morning, Andrea makes crepes and of course we discuss American verses Croatian life. You might think this conversation gets old but I am having it with people from around the world, therefore receiving a new perspective each time. Andrew worked in the United States for a few years and enjoyed it but she prefers the slower pace of life near the Mediterranean. "Sometimes when you have too many choices it can make you frustrated and unhappy" she observes. Very true, my friend. However, when it comes to the delights of Europe, I am enjoying being spoiled for choice!

Beguiling Bosnia

I am happy to see Marty when the bus pulls into Mostar. By his side is Lena and they both accompany me to her hostel nearby. Marty and I visit Mostar's most famous site--the Ottoman-style Stari Most bridge. The bridge was destroyed during the war but was completely rebuilt (with its "original" flaws and all) in 2004. I pass a cemetery. The date of birth engraved on the headstones varied, but the second date was almost universally 1994.

We find a cafe called Cafe ABC where I am ecstatic to find some lasagna with actual vegetables in it. Happy day! But I do try an authentic Bosnian meal as well--chicken legs with onions, tomatoes, and a piece of thick bread that feels like a cross between pita and naan.

We board a train bound for Sarajevo. The green-blue river is a mirror reflecting towering mountain peaks. My open window allows a cool evening breeze to circulate inside the train. I haven't been on a train since my journey from Greymouth to Christchurch in New Zealand. I almost forgot how much I love train travel--zooming through tunnels, clattering along the tracks, transfixed by an idyllic landscape out the window. The woman next to me works on a crossword puzzle. How can she concentrate on such an activity with these divine rock outcroppings that stretch from the riverbank to the clouds?

"My girl, I am making a pie for you." These are the first words I hear as I open my eyes the following morning and see Jasmina standing near near my hostel bed. Minutes later she reappears with a potato pie that is both filling and delicious. Afterward, Marty and I set off to visit the Tunnel Museum near Sarajevo's airport. We duck inside a bullet-scarred house and sit on ammunition crates to watch a movie about the tunnels function during the 1992-1995 war. Built in 1993, the tunnel was 800m long, 1m wide, and 1.6m tall. It was outfitted with rails to move carts of supplies quickly. Bosnian Serbs blocked access to the capital on 3 sides of Sarajevo. The fourth side was controlled by the U.N. and where the tunnel was built. The museum also contains artifacts from the war including weapons, shovels, aid packages, a gurney, and photos depicting damage to downtown Sarajevo buildings. It is amazing to think that just 15 years ago, this tunnel was the only artery into Sarajevo.

The quaint Bascarsijla (old city area) is full of cute boutiques and cool sites such as the Latin Bridge, Eternal Flame, and several mosques. Battle-scarred buildings stand near trendy cafes and interesting public art. A child plays an accordion on the street, hoping a few coins will be tossed his way. Catholic churches, Orthodox churches, and Synagogues coexist here. Colorful buildings sit atop hills encircling the city. Perhaps it is due to the fact that I am visiting in the spring instead of the summer, but the streets are uncrowded and the pace unhurried here.

However, two days in any city is enough for me. I am ready to return to the trails for some gorgeous runs!

Dubrovnik, Croatia

An official at the Montenegro/Croatia border crossing empties the entire contents of my backpack and laughs when he finds my tampons. What is up with that? I am the last one through the line and it takes me so long to put everything back in my pack that the bus almost leaves without me. It is already moving when I sprint to catch up with it and hop in. That was a close one!

Several people are waiting to show me their available rooms when I arrive at the Dubrovnik bus station. Sanya is the most aggressive and gets my business because she has a private room available for 80 Kuna (about $15 usd and a good price in this town) However, I later regret staying with her when I meet Sado who owns the Begovec hostel. He claims Sanya the "crazy, gypsy woman" once beat him with an umbrella to deter him from competing with her business! I like Sado's gentle demeanor and decide to stay with him the next night. After he gives me tea and a croissant, Sado shows me the shells that fell in the hostel's garden during the war. Amazingly, the hostel remained open during that time! I make a new friend named Marty. He is headed to Mostar and I tell him I will be there the next day and maybe we will see each other.

On my way to Dubrovnik's Stari Grad, I meet Harold from Norway. Harold is on a tour of the Balkans with thirty other people from his former workplace. He is the one who informs me about the volcano eruption in Iceland and how it has suspended air traffic throughout Europe. Wow, the events I miss not speaking the language or watching television!

I stroll through Pile Gate then ascend the steps on my left to Dubrovnik's ancient city walls. This pathway leads you around the perimeter of Old Town, offering sublime views of the sparkling Adriatic sea. A bird glides above a sea of slanted, orange rooftops. Laundry hangs on a line near the green wooden shutters of a peeling building. Men crouch on the rocks below, fishing as glass-bottomed boats float by. I hear laughter, conversation, and the clinking of silverware from diners at seaside cafes. Potted plants sit on rooftop terraces surrounded by fragrant orange and lemon trees. It is a perfect sunny day in a fairytale castle!

I walk around the Stradun taking photographs of whatever catches my attention. A child of about 2 runs around outside Rector's Palace. A man who is not his father picks him up, hugs him, then sets him down again. The little boy's mother is not fazed by this stranger's affection. I get the impression Croatia does not share America's intense child molestation/abduction fears. I watch two elderly ladies walk arm and arm and two teenage boys kick a soccer ball back and forth. A group of boys sit in a line on the Onofrio Fountain checking out the girls passing by. There are baroque churches to lean on and ocean views to marvel at. There is a maze of crumbling walls to wander and patches of sunlight to bask in. And there are too many tempting desserts trying to entice me! Walking around this breezy, gorgeous city it is hard to believe almost 70% of Old Town's 824 buildings were hit by shells in the early 1990s. Thankfully, everything has since been restored, using the original materials and techniques whenever possible. Visitors have been pouring into this lovely city ever since!

Montenegro

Getting from Shkodra, Albania to Ulcinj, Montenegro is a bit frustrating. Supposedly there is a 3pm bus to Ulcinj but it never shows up in front of the red building next to the bank (there is no official bus station) Some taxi drivers say the bus comes at 4 while others deny its existence entirely and offer to take me over the border for 10 euros instead. Eventually I find a driver who charges just 5 euros (same price as the bus) and we're off. The road to Ulcinj is beautiful in a moody, coastal Oregon type of way. An hour and a half later, he drops me off in the center of town. I am starving so I walk into the first place I see--Cafe Piramida. The majority of Ulcinj's population is Albanian and the entire menu is in Montenegrin and Albanian except for the word "hamburger." Normally, I would take a chance and point to something on the menu (I ate snake, remember?) but I am too hungry to be experimental today. They serve it on some kind of ciabatta bread and it is delicious.

I walk along the windy coast then turn left to find the lodging I read about just a few minutes away from the beach. Score! I am staying in a private suite with a large bed, private bath, and kitchenette I negotiated for 10 euros. Accommodation Milla is owned by a couple in their 70s and their two sons "Tony" and "Jimmy" help them run it. I notice Tony is walking funny as he shows me to my room.

Me: "Don't worry, I can find it. It looks like it hurts for you to walk down the stairs."
Tony: "I did not get hurt, I just broke both legs in a car accident in Chicago. I do not want to move to Chicago."

Tony cracks me up. My stay includes free internet on the family computer. It's an odd scene as I check my email while Tony's family watches the Albanian version Who wants to be a millionaire and Tony hovers over my shoulder, watching me type. He tries to get me to eat copious amounts of russian salad and drink coca cola instead of water because "water's boring." His family is super nice and tells me check out is "whatever time I like."

Walking to the bus station, a light rain gives way to a torrential downpour. I am soaked as I board a northbound bus. Despite the rotten weather, there is no denying Montenegro is beautiful. I hop out and indulge in a piece of cherry and pineapple cake at Hotel Adriatic which overlooks the beautiful island of Sveti Stefan. Sveti Stefan is an odd place--it is an tiny resort island connected to the main land by a sand isthmus. It used to be a popular hangout for celebrities in the 70s but at present time is closed and it is unknown when it will reopen. After my amazing cake with a view, I bus to Budva.

The rain picks up again as I wander Budva's Stari Grad (Old Town) area. I see a pair of friends walking together under a large umbrella and I am struck by a pang of homesickness. I am lonely and walking around in the cold rain. Poor me. But the day improves from there. A woman suddenly pops out of a boutique and says "Are you looking for the hostel?" Ummm...sure? I was not planning on staying in Budva but as it is pouring rain exploring town is not a very appealing option. Minutes later I an ensconced in thick blankets in the privacy of my own room since no one else checks in to the other beds! I take a warm bath and watch Montenegro's VH1 which is much better than ours because they play all the awesome music videos from the 80s and 90s without interruption from crap shows. Around 7pm the rain finally ceases and I emerge to tour the cool churches nearby. Afterward, I walk the coastal path where I meet Bobba and Nikki from Hungary. Nikki speaks very little English, but Bobba is fluent from the time she spent living in London. They are taking this roadtrip before Bobba begins a new job working as a waitress on a cruise ship in Orlando. They have a car and before I know it we have made plans to tour the Bay of Kotor together tomorrow. Yay!

Kotor was busier than I expected, with multiple tour groups bustling through the Stari Grad. However, the crowds thinned out once we began the ascent of St. John mountain through the fortifications. I love seeing the ramparts, towers, and gates and the view of the bay below is surreal. Dark mountains shrouded by tufts of cloud soar above cerulean waters and crayola green grass. Hiking through these postcard landscapes never seems to lose its magic for me.

We continue around the bay and view two islands. The monks live on one and the nuns on the other. I wonder if they ever visit one another on special occasions? We listen to Hungarian gypsy music, which Bobba attempts to translate. "This guy has a devil in a box and the devil keeps moving the more he shakes the box," she explains. "How about this one?" I ask. "This guy is saying that after you fulfill one dream, you need to find another dream." I like that.

Rushing waterfalls, crumbling buildings, and breathtaking views of the bay make for a wonderful day. After exchanging information, the girls kindly drop me off in Herceg Novi, a town near the Montenegro/Croatian border. I tell the woman in the tourism office adjacent to the bus station the price I want to pay for lodging and she phones a local woman for me to stay with. Nga is an adorable grandmother who dotes on her 9-month old grandson she refers to as "the Inspector." The baby has huge, inquisitive blue eyes and I spend some time playing with him that evening.
It has been over three months since the conclusion of my nanny job and I miss being around children!

Albania

The bus ride from Meteora to Berat, Albania is a ten hour overnight journey through winding, pot-holed roads. It's 8:30am when I ask the driver to drop me off at Hotel Palma then walk across the footbridge and up the cobblestone path to Berat Backpackers. I open the large wooden door to a beautiful veranda overlooking the white ottoman houses the town is famous for and the rushing Osum river. The hostel is as silent as a tomb. The empty eight-person dorm has hardwood floors and butter colored walls. I toss my pack on a lower bunk near the window and search for someone that works here. I hear someone stirring in the room next door and knock on the door. Moments later, a short blonde girl comes out and introduces herself as Louisa. I learn that Louisa and her boyfriend Joe are Brits traveling from London to Australia over the next yera. The hostel owner, Scoti, offered them free room and board in exchange for work at the hostel. They are a really cute couple and I like them immediately. Berat Backpackers is a great deal--10 euros buys you a bed, breakfast, and a lounge furnished with music that I load onto my ipod (hooray for new music!)

I change some euros into the Albanian currency, lek, and set off to explore the remains of Berat Castle, Kalasa. Walking up the steep cobblestone path, I pass two men prodding a pack horse up the hill! I enjoy the area, especially the lovely Byzantine church but what really interests me is the adjacent hillside where I find several mushroom-shaped concrete bunkers. Around 700,000 of these bunkers were built during former dictator Enver Hoxha's reign as protection against possible invasion. They are extremely difficult to destroy and so in recent years some people have tried to make the best of their prescence by painting them in fun colors. Strange as they are, they are a connection to Albania's past. Walking back down the hill I visit the Ethnographic Museum filled with artifacts from Albanian history including clothing and tools. I find the recreated traditional Albanian home most interesting as it reveals Albania's very patriarchal past. The main bedroom for men and guests is large and somewhat lavish with animal skin blankets and fancy flatware on a low table. The women, however, stay in a separate spartan room up a nearby staircase.

My four days in Berat are filled with exploring during the day and relaxing with Lousia, Joe, and the cast of characters that arrive each night. A french guy introduces us to bands such as Balkan Beat Box and the No Smoking Orchestra which he describes as"Turbo Folk."
"What are the songs about" I ask. "Mostly about Serbians drinking and losing your wives" he replies. Well, it's certainly more interesting than the top 40 back home! One night, Vinko makes us crepes. Another night Brian, the new chef who hails from Houston, whips up an amazing stirfry for all of us.

One day, I walk across the footbridge to the other side of the river intending to visit St. Michael's church only to find it locked. A girl in the house next door introduces herself as Luciana and asks me if I want to take a walk to a lookout point. Her two sisters, Nela and Simoni, accompany us and by the time we reach the top, a huge rainbow has formed across the late afternoon sky. Simoni picks a bouquet of wildflowers for me from behind their house, a gesture I find very touching. Luciana invites me inside where I meet her parents. Their mother serves me homemade cherry liquier and they tell me their dream of moving to Boston. They ask me about my work, traveling, and living in America. "Every Albanian wants to move to America" Luciana says. As a visitor to Berat, I see the beautiful architecture, meet hospitable people, and run the hilly terrian. But to Luciana's family sees a country with few jobs and opportunities so they want to move on. At the end of the visit, we exchange emails and promise to keep in touch. I am definitely curious to see what life has in store for them!

Greece

After an eleven hour flight from Bangkok, I enter Athens exhausted but happy. A cool breeze accompanies me as I walk from Syngatma square to my hostel, Athens Backpackers. I check in and pick up the letter containing my new ATM card. I'm so happy it made it safe and sound!

I walk along a pedestrian street lined with cafes, shops, and street musicians to the Acropolis. It is wonderful and strange to be standing in the middle of such lauded history. Below me, I see the Theater of Herod Atticus, a beautiful space still used for concerts today. The Temple of Olympian Zeus rises in the distance. I stroll around the Parthenon. This structure is amazing in that the columns are specifically curved in such a way that they look perfectly straight. The sprawling city of Athens looks beautiful from this vantage point, a sea of white buildings ringed by lush green hills. The only downside to a site like the Acropolis is you have to share it with droves of tour groups, teenagers on school trips, tired children, etc. Like my experience at Angkor Wat, I realize this traffic is par for the course and just accept this is part of such a world-renowned site. Other highlights of Athens include wandering through the markets of Monastiraki and visiting a bouzouki shop. The bouzouki is a pear-shaped instrument similar to a mandolin popular in Greek music. Andy shows me bouzoukis in various sizes, styles, and colors and plays a little for me. Cool!

After two days in Athens, I've had enough of the big city and long for nature. Six hours on a KTEL bus brings me to Trikala. Another short ride and I reach Meteora where rock formations dominate the morning sky. Meteora is famous for its Byzantine monasteries perched atop pillars of rock. It is comprised of two villages--Kalambaka is the larger one while Kastriki is tiny and closer to the mountains. I ask to be dropped in Kastriki's town center so I can scope out my lodging options on foot. The air is chilly and silent as I walk along the winding until I see a campground called Camping the Cave. "Yasas," I call inside an open door. A man answers "Hello!" I'm excited someone speaks enough English to communicate! Apostolos offers me cake and a magenta hard boiled egg.

me: "Mmm, what is this called?" I ask munching the crumbly dessert.
Apostolos: "Cake."
me: "I mean, what kind of cake is it?"
Apostolos: "Greek cake"

I never do find out the name but its delicious and Apostolos will offer it to me every day. I decide to stay in a defunct camper on the premises for 10 euros a night. It's a little musty inside but comes equipped with six fluffy blankets to keep me warm during the chilly nights. The campground is an odd place with a chatty macaw parrot, a pony for riding, and several dogs in residence. A sign reads "Please keep the pool clean. Don't use sun oil. Not spit. Don't pee. Be quiet. Not nose blowing."

"Well, I'm off to explore" I tell Apostolos. "Wait 20 minutes. I call Yannis; he will drive you." I say I don't have much money to pay for such a service but thanks anyway. "It's free, he does work for me sometime." So I end up having my own personal driver to The Monastery of the Holy Trinity (Agia Triada in Greek). Fun Fact: this monastery was used as the base by villain Aris Kristasos in the James Bond flick For Your Eyes Only. I thank Yannis for the ride and we agree to meet up later. It's a lovely structure with its terra cotta tiled floors, arched doorways and wood beam ceilings. One room is covered in frescos which surround thirteen intricately carved wood chairs. I large brass candle holder hangs from the dome ceiling. A light blue cable car ferries the two monks in residence to and from the entrance. Unfortunately, visitors are forbidden to use it.

The evening before Easter, Yannis takes me to Kastriki's town square where everyone gathers at the base of the church. Everyone holds candles and listens to the priest perform some kind of ceremony. At midnight the church bells clang and fireworks crackle across the night sky. What a magical way to ring in Easter!

When I open the camper door on Easter morning, it is already smoky from the villagers cooking their lamb. I follow Yannis's directions to the path that leads to Holy Spirit mountain. Walk past the church and turn right behind the old white school. Follow path to rose-colored house where it becomes a dirt path behind it. Climb over rocks and trail continues all the way up the mountain. I hike to the top of Holy Spirit mountain where the summit offers a panoramic view. In front of me the snow-covered Pindos mountains rise in the distance. Behind me, sunlight shines through pillars of rock. And below, music wafts up from the villages on a cool and soft wind. I am flooded with complete happiness! I meditate, journal, and laze in the sunshine until I feel like coming down. Later on, I fill my hungry belly with lamb, greek salad, yogurt, and crusty bread. I usually do not include much meat in my diet but for some reason it appeals to me here!

I spend four blissful days in Meteora. I trail run the outskirts of the villages. I laugh with Apostolos's son, Bill, who loves to listen to Michael Jackson on my ipod and tell me about his favorite movie "the Shrek." I visit two more gorgeous monasteries--Rousanou and St. Nicholas. I eat zucchini with garlic dip and Greek salads filled with juicy tomatoes and crispy cucumbers at Taverna Gardenia. I roam the streets of Kalambaka and people watch from my perch near the fountains. I drink too much wine and call friends from the All Time cafe. Meteora means "in the heavens above." It certainly felt like it.

Europe--only 2 months left!

It's hard to believe it's already April! I arrived in Athens, Greece early yesterday morning. My hostel is just a few minutes walk away from the Acropolis and other ancient archeological sites! Temperatures are in the 60s, a welcome departure from boiling southeast asia. There are many aspects of Europe I am looking forward to experience but living on the euro for the next two months in not one of them! Internet cafes are pricey, therefore, I will blogging less frequently while in this region of the world to save some coin. 

The tentative plan is to move north along the Adriatic coast as follows: Greece, Albania, Montenegro, Croatia, Slovenia, and then cut through Austria to Slovakia and finally the Czech Republic. I fly from Prague to Amsterdam May 20. 

Have a wonderful Easter and I will be in touch soon! 

Ho Chi Mihn City: War Remnants & Reunification

I only spent a day and a half in Ho Chi Mihn City, but I did have a chance to visit both the War Remants Museum and the Reunification Palace. After touring the Killing Fields and Genocide Museum in Cambodia, I thought I might have developed some tolerance for the disturbing images by now but this was not the case. I weeped at the photos of the massacre at My Lai. Vietmanese babies form with deformaties caused by Agent Orange and other defoliants sprayed during the war. One possible effect of exposure to this chemical are limbs that look extremely shriveled. When Laura and I were having lunch, I noticed a man slowly scooting across the street on his butt. His non-functional legs had the same strange emaciated look to them. This is just a host of terrible ailments related to defoliant exposure. America used over 70 million liters of toxic chemicals defoliants inflicted extensive damage to people, communities, and land during the Vietnam War. The War Remnants certainly speaks from the Vietnamese point of view, however, many of the photographs and stories are derived from American publications such as Time and Life magazines.

Other interesting/ heartbreaking areas of the museum include:

-The Imprisonment System section, where I learned how south vietnam used tiny "tiger cages" to imprison north vietnamese soldiers. The confined space was so small, some prisoners suffered permanent injuries to their limbs.

-Posters and pictures around the world from international anti-war movements.

-Weapons used by America on display outside the museum including a B.52 bomber plane, tanks, and a seismic bomb that causes destruction within a 100m radius.

We followed War Remnants with a visit to Reunification Palace. The Reunification Palace is an eerie place frozen in time ever since the North Vietnmanese tanks bulldozed through the iron gates in 1975 and "Saigon" was renamed "Ho Chi Mihn City." The rooms are still decorated in the same decor. I especially enjoyed the telecommunications center in the basement--a network of claustrophobic tunnels displaying spartan surroundings, huge radio transistors, and rotary phones.

Fearing bag snatchers, cantankerous tuk tuk drivers, and a city littered with trash, I found Ho Chi Mihn much safer, cleaner, and easier to manage than I expected. Of course, my hotel was in Pham New Lao the backpacker district where travelers every whim is catered to. Many hotels offer free internet access, breakfast, and cable television for under $15. If you don't like a particular one, walk for two minutes and someone else will call out to you to check out their room. Stores stock seemingly every type of bootlegged media--dvds, Lonely Planet guidebooks, popular novels--it's all here. One unique store, Propaganda Posters, sells posters from the Vietnam War era. An English translation appears in the right hand corner of each one such as "If Ho Chi Mihn says it is victory, it is victory" and "4000 American planes shot down."

My brief stay in Ho Chi Mihn City wraps up my week-long tour of southern Vietnam. Despite some tummy troubles, overall I enjoyed my experiences in this region of the world. The Vietnamese people of the Mekong river delta region were kind, welcoming, and curious. I hope tourism helps Vietnam achieve a more prosperous future.