In Montenegro, Uncategorized on June 4, 2009 at 1:00 am

Archipelagos 111

Paulin pulls to the side of the road and raises his hands to his face. He makes a clicking motion, signalling, Take a picture. Just outside the car, two rough wood planks have been set, forming a bridge to the flat roof of a house. Paulin doesn’t know the owner of the house, but he ushers me forward. Nobody minds, his shrug suggests. There’s no such thing as trespassing here.

I nimbly cross the trembling boards and step onto the chalky roof, crossing to the opposite side. From the edge, Montenegro spreads out like a Trascendental painting: Cottages bunch together along the hillocks, cradled by the taller mountains on either side. Dirt roads maunder lazily between them, joining and splitting directionlessly. The rooftops grow into a thicket of neighborhoods and towns, and far in the distance, on the vanishing point beneath a sapphire-blue mountain range, rests Budva’s port. The highlands have parted at last, revealing a lush Canaan. After the blinding bronze landscape of Albania, Montenegro restores color to my eyes.


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