An hour later, at the bus station, we got picked up by a fully clothed old man holding a sign saying 'Room, 50 Meters'. We said yes and paid 25 euros, total, for the night. Our room with two single beds was adorned in flags, maps and thank you notes from all the happy tourists who'd passed through the hallowed walls. Marked improvement.
We fell in love with Kotor. First, it's nestled in the mountains on the edge of Eastern Europe's largest fjord. It's picture perfectly beautiful. It's razor-sharp ice cold. It's a lot quieter than the resort towns on the sea.
There's a series of 1500 steps leading to a fortress overlooking this, but we chose not to climb in the 35 degree heat, with my serious post-marathon knee issues that plagued me much of the trip.
The Old Town centre is completely walled in fortress stylie. This was also the centre point of cruise ship pitstops, and we heard a lot more english spoken than anywhere else on the trip. Fortunately they came and went in a matter of an hour, and we were free to peruse the beaches Lonely Planet delightfully forgot to mention in their 'Kotor' section. For this, we thank them. 
I don't quite remember if Kotor or Montenegro is known for its delightful apple strudel, but when in Rome one must eat apple strudel. Sitting on a step on an offshoot of a cobbled old town street staring up at the mountains didn't hurt either. 
the view from apple strudelville 
perfectly blues skies 
We had more of a relax whilst mingling with the natives at the beach before heading back to our room and chatting with our Montenegran hosts. I think my favourite part of travelling through the Balkans is that get off the bus and find a room element. Sometimes scarier than hostels, less swanky than hotels but in terms of character, you can't beat sleeping next to someone's maps of old Yugoslavia tacked to a china cabinet full of lace doilies and ceramic cows. Nothing beats that.
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