February 23, 2026 by trs

Cruising Away, December 2025 Winter Vacay: Part Two

This post continues our winter vacation, a few days into the cruise. On our fourth day on board, we stopped at our second port: Falmouth, Jamaica. Here we would have our longest onshore activity, and one that all five of us would do together. CZ had come to Jamaica as a young adult and loved visiting Dunn’s River Falls, and wanted to experience it again with her son, Little CZ. C and I had visited Jamaica for a week in December 2018, when C was nearly seven years old. At that time, we joined a tour that included Dunn’s River Falls, but we opted not to climb. Now that the kids were old enough for the adventure, we hoped us adults weren’t too old!

We had booked a seven-hour shore excursion, though, like so many cruise-organized tours, it began with the familiar half hour of staging and instructions in the ship’s theater before we were led off together and loaded onto buses. We were told the drive from Falmouth to Dunn’s River Falls would take about an hour. Everyone was in good spirits—chatting, speculating about the climb, and looking forward to the day ahead—and we didn’t really register the time when we arrived. We were ushered off the bus, funneled through ticketing, and then into the Falls area itself. From there, we were divided again into smaller groups of around fifteen people, each assigned a guide who would lead us through the maze of slippery rocks and fast-moving water, up the tiered terraces of the Falls.

*The gorgeous terraced falls at Dunn’s River, Jamaica*

It had been overcast as we disembarked the ship and drove to the Falls, so we were a little worried the water might be cold. But as we formed a daisy chain with our group and stepped into the thigh-high pool at the base of the Falls, the sun broke through the clouds, and we found the water quite pleasant. And here I will admit: when we visited the Falls back in 2018, I hadn’t just been worried about climbing with a small child—I had been nervous, period. Over the past few years, though, I’ve become braver, taking on more adventurous activities, and I was genuinely excited to climb the Falls.

It was so much fun! Our guide took us slowly. There were spots where he led us up one route, only to recalibrate and take us another way. There was a lot of laughing, plenty of tentative foot placement, a few close calls, and some slips—but we made it.

But then there was the waiting. Standing around while each family reviewed the tour photos and debated whether to purchase them. It took a while. Eventually, our guide gathered us up and led us back through the inevitable souvenir gauntlet and onto the bus. We piled in and headed toward our second destination, the Blue Hole. What should have been a 20-minute drive felt longer.

*C and the great leap at the Blue Hole at Ochos Rios*

The Blue Hole is a beautiful place: a natural limestone river sinkhole filled with aquamarine water, framed by lush greenery and fed by a series of small falls. It’s the kind of spot meant for swimming, rope swings over deep pools, cliff jumps, or simply standing still and taking it all in. Once again, we were herded off the buses and grouped together, only to wait for our guides. Having cooled off in the air-conditioning on the drive, CZ and I didn’t want to get back into the water, but we had no opportunity to say so. Instead, we were swept along with everyone else, driven like cattle toward the falls, without explanation.

C, Little CZ, and his dad were up for the adventure. From the upper terraced falls, they jumped into pools—first from around six feet, then from ten—all in preparation for the twenty-five-foot leap beside the largest waterfall. CZ and I stood back and watched, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of C. Not one of them hesitated, and except for Little CZ’s dad, who was good with one go at the big jump, Little CZ and C quickly swam back for another go.

*We made it back to the ship at Falmouth just in time for sunset.*

This was our first inkling that the tour was falling behind schedule. Our bus tour guide approached us at the observation point and asked if we were ready to depart. We pointed out that our kids—and much of the rest of our group—were still in the water below. The guide muttered that guests were only supposed to have one go at the jumps, which didn’t seem right. Where was the leisurely swimming in the pools downstream? The rope swing? There was suddenly a push to get everyone out of the water and back onto the bus. This felt odd, given that the only items on our tour were Dunn’s River Falls and the Blue Hole, with an “if time” stop at Reggae Hill. It was now around 1:30 p.m., and we still had more than an hour’s drive back to the ship. With sail-away set for 3:30, we clearly didn’t have time.

But they took us anyway. There wasn’t much at Reggae Hill. There was a lovely view of the river, where other tourists drifted past on bamboo rafts, but we were there largely for an overpriced lunch: a piece of jerk chicken, a cup of Jamaican rice, a fried plantain, and two drinks for twenty-five dollars. There was nothing else to eat and no other food to buy. And we were rushed. They ran out of beverages. Before some people had finished eating—or even received their food—we were already being herded back onto the buses. It was after 2 p.m.

We made our way down the winding streets toward the single road back to Falmouth harbor, only to find it clogged with traffic. We inched along. I fell asleep. I woke up sometime after 4 p.m., and we were still driving. Someone from the cruise ship must have called in a favor, because we were suddenly accompanied by a police escort for our minibus caravan. We arrived back at the pier around 5 p.m., two hours late, and we all hurried aboard.

That evening, we were back on board in time to catch another round of family karaoke. C met another teen girl, and the two of them headed off to the teen club together—the start of exactly what my daughter had been hoping for: making friends on the ship. After that, we settled into an easy rhythm. We each had our own things to do: CZ booked massages or hit the gym; C spent time with the other teens; Little CZ and his dad hung out by the pool; I took long walks around the decks. And then we came back together—sometimes just C and me, watching the ice show or going ice skating; sometimes CZ and I, sharing a trial massage, walking the jogging track, or spending time in the Solarium; and sometimes all of us, meeting for dinner, making candy sushi, or enjoying family karaoke.

*Christmas on a private island — just us and the other 5,000 passengers of our and another cruise ship.*

On our last day of the cruise—Christmas—we docked at Perfect Day at CocoCay, Royal Caribbean’s private island. It truly was the perfect day. The temperatures had warmed, the wind had finally died down, and the sun shone brightly in a cobalt sky dotted with cotton-ball cumulus clouds.

C and I disembarked early to join a tour to a neighboring island to swim with pigs. I have taken C to pet cheetahs, bathe elephants, hold sloths, and swim with stingrays; it felt fitting to add one more unique animal experience to the list. After a quick fifteen-minute motorboat ride, we landed on another cay, where we were introduced to some of the cutest water-loving pigs imaginable. At first, the experience felt more like a swim-with-pigs assembly line—no personal cameras allowed on the beach, lots of handlers, and interactions that felt a bit forced. But back on the deck, things relaxed. Tourists, guides, and pigs alike chilled out, and it turned out to be a lot of fun.

*C and a piggy friend enjoy the waters off Coco Cay*

Back on Coco Cay, C met up with some of her teen friends from the ship, while I joined CZ, Little CZ, and his dad for lunch and then spent the afternoon on one of the beaches. In the afternoon, C rejoined us so that she, Little CZ, and I could do the island’s ziplines. It felt glorious to be warm, safe, and among friends in such a beautiful place. I wished we could have spent another day or two there.

We reboarded the ship in the afternoon, eager to make the most of the little time we had left. CZ and I took on the twin waterslides—the kids refused to join us, but we wanted to be sure we had tried them at least once. Afterward, we sat at the back of the ship overlooking CocoCay as the sun set and, eventually, the ship cast off, pulling away from our final stop and beginning the slow steam toward home.

That evening, all five of us dressed for Christmas dinner and then headed down to the theater for the finale of family karaoke. C peeled off to join her new friends for their farewell teen party. It ended at midnight, when she sat with two of her ship friends in the open doorway of our cabin—first laughing, then whispering, and finally, crying their goodbyes.

The following morning, we disembarked in Port Canaveral. None of us was quite ready to say goodbye to CZ, Little CZ, and his dad, so the five of us headed instead to the Kennedy Space Center. My only previous visit was as an infant with my parents. C had never been, but after two summers at Euro Space Camp and earning her Astronomy and Space Exploration merit badges through Scouts, I thought she would appreciate it.

*The sun setting on Perfect Day at Coco Cay as we steam back towards Port Canaveral*

The place is enormous—140,000 acres in total, though the visitor complex covers “only” seventy—and we quickly realized that six hours would barely scratch the surface. We wandered through the Rocket Garden before making our way to the Space Shuttle Atlantis building. After a short film on a massive screen, the doors opened dramatically to reveal Atlantis itself, suspended in a darkened room as though still in orbit. It was quietly breathtaking. There is enough in that building alone to fill a day—interactive exhibits, a shuttle launch simulation, even a slide—and we lost track of time entirely. By the time we boarded the bus tour to the Apollo/Saturn V Center, with a stop at the Gantry at Launch Complex 39, the afternoon was already slipping away.

At the Apollo/Saturn V Center, we ate lunch beneath the massive Saturn V rocket and watched the stage-and-screen presentation on the Apollo 11 launch. It was an ambitious way to spend our final hours together—rockets, spaceflight, and human daring—before returning to our condo in Jacksonville for one more evening with my aunt. The next day, we began the long drive back to Washington, D.C., each mile carrying us north, back toward winter.

It was the kind of vacation I needed at the end of a hard year—simple, grounding, time with close friends and family, and full of the small unpredictabilities that make a trip its own.

February 16, 2026 by trs

Cruising Away, December 2025 Winter Vacay: Part One

*The colorful exterior of Nassau’s Straw Market*

For our 2025 winter vacation, I wanted to keep things simple. Even back in March, I could tell it was going to be a hard year, and while I knew I would want a getaway at Christmastime, I also knew I would not have the energy to plan much.

My daughter C and I had cruised before: once with Royal Caribbean to the Norwegian Fjords in the summer of 2023, and again with Celebrity Cruises to the Southern Caribbean in December 2024. And though cruising never really fit my younger self’s travel style, these days I have found that while it isn’t how I want every vacation to go, it can be a welcome break from my more heavily planned, detail-oriented holiday.

By the time December rolled around, I was incredibly grateful to have a simple, straightforward trip set up—one that let us escape the Virginia winter, spend time with friends and family, and have ample mother-daughter time, with enough activities on the ship for both of us to allow for valuable time apart, and very little additional thought on my part.

To further uncomplicate our trip, I decided that we would drive to and from Port Canaveral, our port of embarkation. For last year’s cruise out of Puerto Rico, our flights were changed repeatedly between purchase and departure, each time becoming less convenient. I did not want to go through that again.

Traveling by car gave me back a small amount of agency, which felt good in a year where so much felt out of my control. Later, I realized that the decision also felt very on brand for 2025. We ended up with more road trips than I would have predicted, including drives to Lancaster, Philadelphia, and New Bern, our summer southern European driving vacation, and a road trip to Ohio for a friend’s wedding.

—

*South Carolina’s South of the Border: Kitschy but quiet. Next time, we should time our stop for midday*

On the Wednesday afternoon before the cruise, we packed up the car, stocked up on road trip snacks, and hit the road. We were excited to get out of town, and I was thrilled that traffic on I-95, notorious for traffic jams, was light. We made good time and stopped for the evening halfway through North Carolina.

The following day, we were up and on the road early. It would be a long slog to our condo in Jacksonville, Florida, our next stop. Driving I-95 can be mind-numbingly boring. We broke up the morning with a stop at South of the Border, just over the South Carolina border. On many a trip along this corridor, we have passed this mega attraction, but never stopped. It’s the quintessential kitschy 1950s roadside stop blown up to 2000s excess with a motel, camping, restaurants, oversized fiberglass statues, mini golf, and the largest indoor reptile exhibit in the U.S. Though, at 9 AM on a random Thursday morning in winter, it was nearly deserted. So, we just filled up on gas, stretched out our legs for a bit, and got back on the road.

It was many more hours and miles before we arrived at our condo in Jacksonville, where we would spend the next two nights relaxing and catching up with my aunt. It was wonderful to have the temperatures warming between North Carolina and Florida, to gradually shed our coats and sweaters. We had nothing in particular planned. Just spending time with family, which was another benefit to driving over flying. Then on Saturday, C and I once again loaded up the car and drove the last 2.5 hours to Port Canaveral to board our cruise ship.

*View of the Royal Promenade inside Royal Caribbean’s Adventure of the Seas*

There was the usual madness at the port—parking, walking to the cruise terminal, shuffling through the line—but overall it went pretty quickly, and we soon found ourselves on board in our cabin. Putting down our bags was like setting down the baggage of the past year. It would be temporary, but for a little while, I could feel lighter. Then C and I headed to the café on the promenade to meet up with my long-time friend CZ, her son Little CZ, and Little CZ’s dad to catch up and explore the ship for the rest of the afternoon and evening. That night, as we steamed off into the Caribbean, I slept the best I had in months.

The following day, we arrived at our first port of call: Nassau. When I booked the cruise, Nassau was not part of the itinerary. It was instead Labadee, Haiti, a 260-acre private and secure beach area exclusive for Royal Caribbean. However, after the State Department reissued the Level 4-Do Not Travel warning in July, due to an increase in violent crime and civil unrest, the cruise line suspended visits to the island. Though Labadee is really just a private playground with little cultural interaction with Haitians and it wasn’t clear to me how much money actually reached the locale population, I was still curious about the stop, though not heartbroken it was cancelled. We waited many months to find out the alternative destination, which online sources indicated could be Nassau, Grand Cayman, Grand Turk in the Turks and Caicos, or Puerta Plata in the Dominican Republic. I had my fingers crossed for the latter two as they sounded more interesting, but in the end Nassau it was.

Having been to Nassau many times, CZ opted to stay on the ship. Little CZ and his dad headed out on a food tour, while C and I disembarked for our own self-guided walking tour. The heat hit us immediately. The port was crowded and loud, full of Caribbean brass drum music and the buzz of excited passengers spilling off their ships. Little wooden shops, painted in bright Caribbean shades of fuchsia, coral, azure, lime, and yellow, lined the way. The energy was contagious. We were here! In the Caribbean.

*The pink facade of Government House and C on the Queen’s Staircase, Nassau*

And all my teen wanted to see in Nassau was Starbucks! Fine. That was our second stop after the Straw Market, which, unfortunately, was not quite open when we arrived. Some shopkeepers were just setting up, but most stalls still had tarps over their goods. Frankly, the goods looked like the same old beach wear, t-shirts, rattan bags and hats, and kitschy goods we had seen in so many Caribbean stores. Then we walked over to Government House, a beautiful, flamingo-pink Georgian colonial-style building in the center of the old town. Though that too was hard to see as metal bleachers, likely set up for a Christmas parade, blocked the view.

I then dragged C to the Queen’s Staircase, a 66-step limestone staircase carved out of the rock between 1793 and 1794 to link Fort Fincastle to the waterfront area. To reach the stairs, one walks through a shaded corridor between the limestone walls, covered in vegetation. It was really lovely. But it was also crowded. I waited quite a long while to capture my daughter’s photo on the stairs with few other people around. At the top of the stairs, my plan had been to explore Fort Fincastle, but it was closed for renovations. We decided to return to the ship for lunch, planning to disembark again later to see the Pirate museum and perhaps another museum, but we did not get back off.

*A partial view of the Adventure of the Seas mini golf course*

Day three was a cruising day (the cruise line counted boarding day as Day one), and we had a few activities planned. C and I had an early morning pickleball lesson on the sports deck, but it was very windy—the net wouldn’t stay in place, and the balls were quickly blown astray. We later tried mini golf, where the wind sent our golf balls skittering just as easily. Though we weren’t going to win any tournaments anyway. CZ and I took a short walk around the pool deck, our hair whipping into our faces; it was warm, but the wind made being on deck feel like an endurance sport. Thus, CZ and I retreated to the adult-only solarium to relax and talk. After lunch, C, CZ, and I headed to a lounge for a geography quiz and ended up taking first place. Later, all five of us joined up to watch family karaoke, where even C and Little CZ’s dad went up on stage to sing Men at Work’s “Down Under.” We followed that up with dinner together in the main dining room. All in all, a nice day at sea, and a great start to the cruise.

November 29, 2025 by trs

A Hard Year

*Cherry blossoms in Spring 2025; nature (particularly trees and flowers) and nature photography are two things that help me cope with life’s challenges*

It has been a hard year.

Although the year isn’t over yet—and I may be tempting fate by writing this now—I’m hoping that putting these thoughts down will do two things: first, keep any more surprises at bay; and second, help me process everything that has already happened.

The first big moment of the year was Inauguration Day on January 20. I rarely wade into politics on my blog, and it’s perfectly normal at any time not to feel enthusiastic about a particular candidate taking office. But this year, I felt particularly anxious about the start of this administration and the policies it would sweep in. Even so, I wasn’t fully prepared for some of what followed—but more on that later.

At 8:47 PM on January 29, an Army Black Hawk helicopter collided midair with American Airlines flight 5342 over the Potomac River, just minutes before the plane was to land at Ronald Reagan Airport. All 64 people on the flight and the 3 aboard the helicopter died. Among them were 28 skaters, coaches, and family members from the figure skating community—11 of the youth skaters were ages 11-16.

My 13-year-old daughter began figure skating in Arlington last year. Although she didn’t know the skaters personally, she had seen them on the ice. The MedStar Iceplex in Arlington—where she practices—was also the home rink of many of those skaters. At the memorial, as she stood taking in the names and photos of skaters her age, my daughter sobbed. I felt helpless to guide her through a loss of this kind; there was nothing I could say that would make it understandable. The tables of stuffed animals, flowers, photographs, and memorial books remained at the rink for about two weeks, a quiet reminder of how many lives had been intertwined there.

*In the aftermath of the Flight 5342 disaster, the Medstar Iceplex remembered those lost.*

In June, when my daughter performed in the annual Ice Show, several competitive youth skaters put on a beautiful program to honor their friends and teammates. The photos of the skaters and community members we lost still hang on the rink’s walls and will soon be included in a permanent memorial to Flight 5342.

Two weeks later, things became more difficult. On the evening of February 13, a doctor called to tell me that my mother—who lived in a memory care unit—had been admitted to the hospital. This wasn’t unusual; ever since her fall in January 2024 and her hospitalization on February 14, 2024 for severe infections and psychosis, she had required ongoing care in various facilities and continued to experience medical complications. I had been the main point of contact for her care and had received many such calls over the past year. But this time, the doctor explained that she was in respiratory failure and was not expected to recover.

After speaking with him, I informed my siblings and aunt, then called my father. When I told him my mother was back in the hospital, he became distressed and started breathing rapidly, and I had to call 911. Emergency responders forced entry into his home and transported him to the same hospital.

I spent most of the next two days there, moving between my father’s room on the second floor and my mother’s on the third, coordinating with medical staff and notifying family. On February 15, around 5 PM, the nurses made my mother comfortable and we turned off her oxygen. My sister CH and I stayed with her for several hours. She rallied unexpectedly, and I left around 11 PM.

My mother lingered until the evening of February 19, when she passed away. My father stayed in the hospital for two more days before being transferred to a rehabilitative facility, where he remained for six weeks.

In the first weeks after my mom passed, I was busy managing the bureaucratic details that come with death. As the point person with the crematorium, I provided and reviewed the information for the death certificate, handled the billing, and arranged for the collection of her ashes. I also closed out her room at the assisted living facility. At the same time, I was supporting my dad—visiting him during his rehabilitation, coordinating with his care team, and eventually taking him back home. It wasn’t until several months later that I was able to think about my mom herself.

We had not been close for a long time, but certain things still stay with me. She didn’t have an easy childhood as the youngest of seven in a working-class family outside Pittsburgh. She worked hard, often two or three jobs at a time. When we were little, she told us stories and made up songs—good enough that my sisters and I once performed them in our elementary school talent show. She made excellent handmade Halloween costumes, and when I was ten and my sisters were eight and six, we swept the local contest with first, third, and fourth place. I was a bag of McDonald’s French fries (and it was I that won first!).

*Tulips next to mom’s urn; Co-workers sent me tulips after mom’s passing, not knowing that they too were her favorites*

She loved yellow corn on the cob (not the terrible white kind!) with plenty of butter, Big Macs, stove-popped popcorn drenched in real butter, and those pink wintergreen candies that tasted vaguely like Pepto-Bismol. And she loved Coca-Cola. When I was a kid, we kept two two-liter bottles in the fridge at all times—one for her, and one for the rest of the family. And when she visited me in Jakarta in 2010, an animal handler at the Taman Mini Indonesia Reptile Park invited her into the Komodo dragon enclosure, and she enthusiastically said yes! And then she forced me to go in as well (she called me “chicken” and I could not let that stand), even though I really did not want to get into a cage with a 9-foot-long lizard whose bite could kill me.

I had little time to mourn my mother, though, because other difficult things were unfolding—this time in my professional life. The new government administration began rapidly cutting the federal workforce. It wasn’t done with care or coordination. USAID was quickly dismantled, leaving many of my friends and colleagues—people I had worked alongside in Indonesia, Malawi, and Guinea—suddenly without careers. Across the State Department, others took early retirement, resigned, or were abruptly fired.

The stress and uncertainty were constant, and there was real sadness in seeing so many good people lose the work they had devoted their lives to. And underneath all of it was the worry that my own job might be next. It was a different sort of grief.

*Sign in Washington, DC, in June showing support for federal workers*

I have been a near-daily meditator since 2018, and I started seeing a therapist in the fall of 2024. At the start of 2025, I added ice skating to the mix. My daughter was learning, so I figured I might as well try it too, and maybe pick up something fun that pushed me a bit. I love getting out on the ice—with no cell phones, I couldn’t read the news, doom scroll, get caught up in cat videos for far too long, or really think about anything other than remaining upright and finding joy in that. These activities helped, but halfway through this year, I knew I needed more to help me cope.

I started with some 5Ks with my daughter. She had asked to see my old running event tees and medals, and after looking them over, she asked if we could run together. Back when I started this blog, I was a runner. I had participated in numerous 5K, 10K, 10-miler, and half-marathon races. But once I left Shanghai, went into training, and then moved to Malawi, the running fell by the wayside. I am not in great shape now, but C and I have already done 4 5ks in the latter half of this year.

We also went ahead with our vacation to Europe in August. With everything that had been happening, including the uncertainty swirling around continued federal government employment, I had debated about canceling. I am extremely glad I did not. Going on that Balkans travel adventure with my daughter was amazing and restorative.

My sister was struggling with the grief, too. She had lost her job, a close family member on her husband’s side, and two friends in the same timeframe as Mom. I had been looking into a grief circle for both of us, but the timing did not work at first. So I asked her if she wanted to go to a rage room with me. I thought she might think it was dumb, but she did not even know what a rage room was. When I explained it, she agreed without hesitation. So in early August, the two of us went to a place out in Winchester. With the music turned up loud, we took baseball bats and smashed a bunch of things for thirty minutes. It was certainly not a solution to everything, but it was very therapeutic.

*The overlook of the Ohio River near my mom’s childhood neighborhood in Beaver, PA*

In September, C and I drove to and from Toledo for the wedding of a college friend of mine. Along with enjoying a ceremony and reception at the Toledo Zoo and Aquarium, I planned a few activities connected to my mom. While we were in Toledo, I visited my Aunt Julia, my mom’s only living sibling (my mother’s brother passed away in May), and my cousins. We spent a Sunday morning at her house and then had lunch together. On the drive home, I stopped in Beaver, Pennsylvania, where my mom grew up, and sprinkled some of her ashes along the river overlook near her childhood home.

*My sister would have preferred horses, but the donkeys sure did take a shine to her*

Finally, in October, my sister and I joined a grief circle led by a Foreign Service friend of mine. JS and I began our Foreign Service careers in the same orientation class years ago. During her second tour, she experienced three devastating personal losses in a short period of time. After moving through the initial stages of grief, she sought more ways to live with and accept the losses, from running a marathon to writing a book, and then helping others by becoming a certified yoga and grief coach. We joined her and four others who were experiencing loss at a small farm near Purcellville, Virginia. We meditated, shared our grief stories, and then took part in equine therapy with several sweet and friendly rescue donkeys.

None of these activities alone solved the grief or completely lifted the weight of the year, but each one helped me keep moving. Meditation, therapy, ice skating, time with family, the rage room, the trip to Toledo, and the grief circle all gave me different ways to breathe and stay grounded. Together, they helped me find small moments of steadiness during a very hard year. Here’s to hoping 2026 is a little lighter.

November 5, 2025 by trs

In and Around DC: Activities Autumn 2025

*I do love the changing of the leaves in Northern Virginia*

Being posted to Washington, D.C. has been a different kind of Foreign Service experience for us—one rooted in home, routine, and the chance to enjoy experiences we often miss while overseas. I packed this September and October with outings and activities that maximized the season and kept us very busy.

I kicked off the season with a visit to the George Washington University Textile Museum, a team outing my office director organized as a bonding activity. As Foreign Service Officers, we’ve all lived in various countries and many of us have collected meaningful textiles along the way. We began by sharing a textile of personal significance and telling its story before heading into a guided tour of the museum, just a few blocks from our office. The galleries were filled with stunning pieces—carpets, tapestries, kimonos, and intricately decorated clothing. It all reminded me of my own travels and life abroad—and of the (much more modest) pieces I’ve picked up along the way. Our guide—a former Foreign Service Officer herself—made the tour especially engaging and relatable.

*Amazing acrobatics, stage presence, and storytelling of Cirque du Soleil’s* Luzia

Our next few outings were all performance-related. I had been hoping to take C to a show at Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts, but hadn’t yet found the right performance. I have fond memories of Wolf Trap, as my family went a few times when I was a child, and I spent a summer in college working at the concession stand. When I learned that Cynthia Erivo would be performing there, I tried to get tickets, but they sold out quickly. As luck would have it, friends of ours were unable to attend and offered us their tickets! Cynthia Erivo was wonderful—so interactive with the audience, engaging and funny, and her voice is absolutely stunning. It was truly one of the best performances I have attended.

C had also been eager to go to a concert, so when two of her favorite artists, Hozier and Gigi Perez, announced a show in Virginia, she begged to go. Even though it fell on a school night, I said yes and bought lawn seats, imagining a perfect September evening. Instead, it was cold and rainy, but armed with ponchos and surrounded by thousands of equally soaked but cheerful fans, we made the best of it—and both artists were fantastic live. And to round out our performance streak, we kept a tradition going and saw Cirque du Soleil for the third September in a row.

We rounded out September with a visit to the Maryland Renaissance Faire with my sister and her family. I had long heard of the festival but had never been, and I thought it would be a great experience for C and me. Good thing we went with my sister—a seasoned pro who has been more than a dozen times. Now in its 49th year, the Faire is well-established. It’s set in a fictional 16th-century English village called Revel Grove and spread over 27 acres in Crownsville, Maryland. C and I were unprepared for its size and the sheer number of performances, activities, food options, and shops. We made it only half the day before we were worn out. Next time—and C definitely wants to go back—we’ll need a better game plan!

As we moved into October, things slowed down a bit. I’ve always enjoyed this month—my birthday falls in October, and I love the changing leaves in places with four seasons like Northern Virginia. After such a busy September, I didn’t have many firm plans lined up, and when the federal government shut down, it made the month feel even less predictable.

To celebrate my birthday, I took a day off work that lined up with a day C had off school, and I booked us tickets to the Maryland Zoo in Baltimore—plus a penguin encounter! C and I have seen penguins before, including at Boulder Beach in South Africa, but the chance to be up close to them (and maybe even touch one) felt like a special treat.

*Montage of the Maryland Zoo, including the friendliest penguin Ambassador, Olive, and the wonderful zoo enclosure with rhinos, zebras, and ostriches*

We arrived at the zoo about two hours before our penguin encounter start time, so we had ample time to check out the rest of the animal exhibits first. I was surprised by how great the Maryland Zoo is! I grew up outside of Washington, D.C., and had many visits to the National Zoo with my family and my school or Girl Scout troop. Yet we never once visited the Maryland Zoo. I did not even know it existed until I chanced upon an advertisement for the penguins. Open since 1876, it is the third-oldest zoo in the United States. I found the layout inviting for visitors with plenty of nature, and its enclosures large and well-designed for the animals. And they had an okapi, an endangered animal of the giraffe family that looks part giraffe and part zebra, and also happens to be one of my favorite animals. We then had a magical small-group experience with a group of penguins specifically selected as ambassadors for their species. They were largely uninterested in us, but a few brave souls got close enough to touch.

We next attended another of my sister’s interactive theatrical performances by Naut Human Productions at Dodona Manor in Leesburg, Virginia. Following last October’s Halloween-themed Dracula, this year’s spooky offering was the Frankenstein Experience. Unlike in past years, when she has usually had a more glamorous role, this time she appeared as Igor—the first of Dr. Frankenstein’s attempts to bring a human back to life using rat DNA—and she was far more frightening. There were plenty of jump scares and screams throughout, and Igor was undoubtedly the star of the evening.

When the federal government’s funding lapsed on October 1, I was notified that my position was considered “non-excepted,” which meant I would be furloughed and unable to work. During a shutdown, most federal employees—whether “excepted” and still working or “non-excepted” and sent home—don’t receive pay until the government reopens, which can make things a bit uncertain. As a single parent with one income, the prospect of going without a paycheck made me grateful that I hadn’t planned much for October, and I knew I’d need to keep a closer eye on my budget. I spent the first week tackling long-overdue items on my to-do list, catching up with friends, and enjoying the still-pleasant weather on long walks.

*Some of Hillwood Estates autumn beauty in the Cutting Garden*

A friend of mine—who used to work in the federal government and knows how much I love gardens—sent me a notice that Hillwood Estate was offering free admission. So on a beautiful autumn day, I headed to the gardens at the former estate of Marjorie Merriweather Post. Post purchased Hillwood in the mid-1950s and transformed it into both a home and a showcase of her interests, including exquisite gardens and an impressive art collection. I wasn’t looking to tour the manor that day; I simply wanted to be outdoors. And since I went on my own, I could wander at my own pace without worrying about a teenager growing bored. Two of my favorite spots were the Japanese Garden and the Cutting Garden—the latter especially, with so many unique and colorful flowers in bloom.

Later in the month, C was working on the Bird Study merit badge for Scouts, and one of the requirements was to identify birds in the wild. I searched for good birding spots in Northern Virginia and came across Huntley Meadows Park, so we headed out on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The park was stunning, and the boardwalk trail through the wetlands was spectacular—but we saw far fewer birds than we expected. Back at the visitor center, we asked the staff for advice, and they told us about a birding group that meets on Monday mornings at 8 a.m.

*A stunning autumn vista in Fairfax County’s Huntley Meadows Park*

Since I was still furloughed the next day and C happened to have (yet another )Arlington school holiday, we decided to return. It turned out to be a gorgeous autumn morning, and the birding group could not have been more welcoming. They were delighted to hear about C’s merit badge and helped us spot and identify birds, use our binoculars properly, and even try out their much more advanced ones. To my surprise, one of the birders was a retired Foreign Service Officer—and a former Ambassador—which made the outing an unexpected full-circle Foreign Service moment.

We wrapped up our autumn adventures with the Monster Mash 5K—our third mother-daughter race since July. Well, “mother-daughter” was a bit of a stretch this time, since C invited a friend and the two of them dashed off together, leaving me in their dust. And with that, our busy fall came to a close. Now we turn toward our third full winter in Washington, looking forward to the next adventures.

October 28, 2025 by trs

Balkans Bound, Part Seven: The Final Days in Pristina and Gračanica

This is the seventh and final installment of my daughter’s and my trip to Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro in August 2026.

*The Newborn Monument in Pristina, unveiled in the capital on February 17, 2008, when Kosovo declared independence*

We left Peja and headed east toward Kosovo’s capital, Pristina — trading the mountains that had framed so much of our trip for rolling hills. Pristina sits in a flat valley, and at one point along the highway encircling the city, we caught a sweeping view of the entire capital spread out below us. It felt almost strange to see such a wide, open landscape after so many days of winding mountain roads.

We checked into our hotel in central Pristina. I had originally booked our final two nights near the airport but changed plans so we could spend a day exploring the city more easily. Once we settled into our room, we headed out for lunch nearby and then began a self-guided walking tour. Our first stop was the Newborn Monument, a large block-letter sculpture that celebrates Kosovo’s declaration of independence from Serbia on February 17, 2008. The monument changes its colors and design each year on that date, symbolizing the country’s evolving identity. Across the street, we visited the Heroines Monument, which depicts an Albanian woman formed from 20,145 metal pins — each representing the contributions and sacrifices of Albanian women during the 1989-1999 Kosovo War. The Newborn Monument felt celebratory and hopeful, while the Heroines Monument carried a quieter, somber weight. Facing one another, the two together formed a powerful message about the devastation of war and the hope that follows in its wake.

*Left: C sits in the Newborn Monument; Right: the Heroines Monument*

From there, we continued our walk along Mother Teresa Boulevard, a broad, pedestrian-only avenue lined with shops, cafés, and people out enjoying the day. We passed a statue of Mother Teresa herself — an important figure in Kosovo, as she was ethnic Albanian and is said to have found her spiritual calling in the small village of Letnica, in southern Kosovo. We followed the boulevard until we reached the Kosovo Parliament building, then crossed the street to the Çarshi Mosque. Built in 1389 to commemorate the Ottoman victory in the Battle of Kosovo, it is the oldest surviving building in Pristina. Behind it stands the National Museum of Kosovo, housed in an Austro-Hungarian building from 1889, though unfortunately it was closed for renovation during our visit.

Sights of Pristina–Left: Statue of Mother Teresa in central Pristina; Center: the Brutalist/Futuristic beauty of the National Library of Kosovo; Right: the Çarshi Mosque, Pristina’s oldest building

We continued on to the campus of the University of Pristina to see the National Library, famous for its striking architecture — a brutalist design with a distinctive futuristic appearance. C, who has an interest in architecture and a surprising fondness for Brutalism (perhaps thanks to Washington, D.C.’s share of concrete buildings), had especially wanted to see it. Our final stop was the Cathedral of Saint Mother Teresa. Built between 2007 and 2017 and officially consecrated in 2017, it is the largest structure in Kosovo and the first cathedral built in the country since the 16th century.

In just a few hours of walking, I felt as though we had passed through centuries of Kosovo’s history — from Ottoman rule to war to hard-won independence. It was a beautiful day and a satisfying walk, but it carried a certain weight. While there isn’t an overwhelming amount to see in terms of traditional sightseeing, Pristina clearly has momentum. Construction cranes dotted the skyline, signs of an economic boom fueled in part by the Kosovar diaspora. The city felt youthful and hopeful. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening resting up for our final day in the country.

On our last day, we packed up the car for one final sightseeing drive, heading to the town of Gračanica, just five miles from Pristina. Our goal was the 14th-century Serbian Orthodox Gračanica Monastery — the fourth and final of the UNESCO-designated Medieval Monuments in Kosovo that we would visit. Like the others, the monastery centers on a stand-alone church within a walled complex, its interior lined with offices and living quarters. Inside, the church walls are covered with magnificent frescoes depicting scenes from the Bible — vivid, detailed, and deeply expressive. It was beautiful, though also the busiest of the four UNESCO sites we’d seen, and the strictest about what visitors could and could not do.

Outside the monastery, we took a short walk around town. One of the first things we noticed — or rather, C did, with her knack for recognizing flags — was the presence of Serbian flags and the use of the Serbian language. It was a noticeable change from what we had seen elsewhere: in Prizren and Peja, Albanian flags and symbols were everywhere, while in Pristina, we had seen a modest number of Kosovar flags. Here, the Serbian presence was unmistakable. A statue of the legendary Serbian knight Miloš Obilić stands prominently in the town center, and nearby is the Missing Monument, a somber memorial honoring the Serbs who were kidnapped or went missing during and after the Kosovo War.

Even amid Kosovo’s visible economic growth and youthful optimism, reminders of the region’s divided past remain close at hand. I had thought I’d managed to keep politics at bay during our trip, but it was impossible to ignore the quiet signs everywhere — reminders of how deeply history, identity, and faith are still woven into daily life here, and how the past continues to shape the present.

For a change of pace — and to end our trip on a lighter note — we drove to the Bear Sanctuary Prishtina, a rescue center that provides care for brown bears once kept in captivity in Kosovo and Albania. The sanctuary is set on forested land by a lake, and the bears have large enclosures that give them room to roam and explore. It felt spacious and well-run, and as we followed the winding paths up and down the hillside, C and I got quite a workout. Watching the bears lounging and playing was a lovely way to close out our travels.

*It was so fun* *go-karting on this track in the Pristina Mall!*

I had one last surprise for C: for our final final activity of the vacation, we went to Prishtina Mall. At 1,233,140 square feet, it’s the largest shopping and entertainment center in southeastern Europe. We had lunch, did some window shopping, got gelato, and drove go-karts on a cool indoor track — yes, right inside the mall! It was the first time either of us had gone go-karting, and it was an absolute blast. Afterward, we drove to our hotel near the airport, returned the rental car, and spent our last night in Europe before the early morning flight that would begin our journey home.

Our two weeks in Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro were everything I could have hoped for — full of adventure, discovery, and connection. We packed so much into those days, from mountain drives and monasteries to coastal towns and caves. More than anything, it was a memorable mother-daughter journey, one that I know neither of us will forget.

October 24, 2025 by trs

Balkans Bound, Part Six: Peja and the Monasteries of Dečani & Peć

This is the sixth installment of my daughter’s and my trip to Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro in August 2026.

*The view from our Peja hotel toward the Rugova Mountains*

We left Podgorica on a smooth, straight highway, but about an hour later turned toward Kosovo and began to climb once more into the Accursed Mountains — the southernmost and highest subrange of the Dinaric Alps. The next ninety minutes took us along twisting mountain roads with sweeping vistas at every turn until we reached the Montenegrin border crossing. After the hiccups we’d faced entering Montenegro, I was grateful that this crossing went off without a hitch. Interestingly, the checkpoint wasn’t at the actual border; we still had about four miles to go before entering the narrow Kulla Pass, then another nine miles of serpentine road with breathtaking panoramic views before reaching Kosovar immigration.

From the border, we descended toward Peja but stopped first at Ujëvara e Drinit Resort (Waterfall of the Drin Resort) for lunch and a view of the White Drin Waterfall. The resort was stunning — all dark wood and stone, blending well into the forest along the White Drin River. Despite it being a Monday, the resort was lively, full of families and friends enjoying a day out. I could not help but think that if I lived in Kosovo, this would be the perfect weekend getaway. After a lovely lunch, we took a short forest walk to the 75-foot waterfall. It may not have been the most spectacular waterfall I’ve seen, but it was undeniably pretty — and the forest setting was peaceful and restorative. From there, we continued on to Peja.

*Left: A view of the White Drin Waterfall; Right: the White Drin as it flows past the restaurant at the Ujëvara e Drinit Resort*

Arriving in Peja took longer than expected. It was still the summer holiday season, and many Kosovars living abroad were visiting their families. The roads were bumper-to-bumper, and Google Maps led me astray more than once. By the time we finally checked into our hotel, it was after 4 p.m. Though we were ready for an early evening after the long drive, we still took an hour to walk through the town.

We walked a few blocks to the Peja Bazaar, which dates back to the Ottoman period and was once the center of trade in the city. The market was destroyed in 1999, during the Kosovo War, and rebuilt using the traditional style. Most of the shops weren’t aimed at tourists — they sold gold jewelry, carpets, furniture, clothing, toys, and other everyday goods. But one stall near the 15th-century Bajrakli Mosque at the market’s center stood out: it was filled entirely with Albanian paraphernalia, and I remembered back to when we were in Prizren.

When we were in Prizren, we saw many signs with the letters “UCK.” My daughter pointed one out and guessed it was supposed to be a bad word, missing a letter. After we kept seeing it — along with Albanian flags, placards on buildings, and other symbols — I decided to look it up. UÇK stands for Ushtria Çlirimtare e Kosovës, or the Kosovo Liberation Army. Curious, I asked a souvenir shop clerk if UÇK had become a political party, but he explained that it was disbanded in 1999. When I asked why, then, there were still so many signs and goods today, he said, “Because it is still important to Albanians and Albanian culture.” There were almost no Kosovar flags or souvenirs to be seen.

*Reminders of war and Albanian ethnic identification in Peja*

The following morning, C and I set off on another adventure — a visit to the Dečani Monastery, about ten miles south of Peja. Founded in the first half of the 14th century by Stefan Dečanski, King of Serbia, the monastery also serves as his mausoleum. It is one of four churches in Kosovo designated as UNESCO World Heritage Sites under the collective title Medieval Monuments of Kosovo, recognized for their blend of Byzantine and Romanesque styles and their remarkable wall frescoes. This was the second of those sites we visited, following Our Lady of Ljeviš in Prizren, and it is the largest medieval church in the Balkans.

I had not realized Dečani’s complicated history. Because Stefan Dečanski is such a significant figure in both Serbian history and the Serbian Orthodox Church, the monastery remains deeply important to Serbia today. Serbia placed the site under legal protection in 1947, but it now lies within Kosovo’s borders — though Serbia does not recognize Kosovar independence. To ensure the security of the site, the monastery has been under the protection of NATO’s Kosovo Force (KFOR) since 1999.

I, having not done my customary research, was, however, completely unaware of the above before setting out, and was taken aback when we reached a checkpoint on the road leading to the monastery. We passed through fine, but once at the site, we had to check in with KFOR soldiers, who asked for our passports, which, to my dismay, I had left behind. I could hardly believe how unprepared I was, and for a moment I thought we might have to drive all the way back to Peja to retrieve them. I offered my driver’s license instead and pleaded my case, and after a brief discussion with their command, the soldiers agreed to let us in.

*Just a few photos of the extraordinary Decani monastery*

The weather that day was perfect — bright, sunny, with a deep blue sky overhead. The church is enclosed within defensive walls that also contain administrative offices, dormitories, and a small hospital. Visitors are not permitted to enter any of those areas, only the church itself. The building is beautiful, constructed of pink and white marble that appears more white and golden in the sunlight. The doorframes and supraportes are intricately carved, each detail precise and deliberate.

Then we stepped inside — and I was not at all prepared for what awaited us. Every inch of wall and ceiling was covered in frescoes depicting scenes from Serbian history and Christian tradition. They were vibrant, detailed, and utterly stunning. Both C and I were transfixed, slowly wandering through the church with our heads tilted back.

From Dečani, we headed back to Peja for lunch and to pick up our passports before continuing to the Patriarchate of Peć, another of the UNESCO-designated Medieval Monuments of Kosovo. The Peć monastery was guarded by police rather than KFOR, though passports were still required for entry. Unlike Dečani, Peć is set within a walled garden, and instead of marble, its 13th-century church has a bright red plaster exterior — the same color as when it was first built. There were also more visitors here; at Dečani, we had been two of only a handful, but Peć had at least a dozen, along with a few very watchful nuns. The frescoes, though less extensive than at Dečani, were just as beautiful. We enjoyed the visit, though by the end, we had certainly had our fill of ecclesiastical art for the day.

After Peć, we continued up the road into the Rugova Canyon. Though we were both tired, it was an absolutely gorgeous day, and I wanted to see at least a few of the viewpoints. C, however, was ready for a nap in the car, so my stops were brief — just long enough to take in the view before moving on. As we’d encountered so often on this trip, the mountain road was narrow and winding, but this stretch added a few short tunnels carved straight through the rock. I drove only as far as the Hotel Panorama, about eight miles in, before turning back. The scale of the canyon was humbling — sheer cliffs, deep shadows, and a vastness that was beyond words.

We returned to our hotel in Peja completely knackered — we had packed a lot of sightseeing into one day. After resting for a few hours, I headed out alone at the golden hour while C stayed behind. That was fine; she had already shown far more interest in art, architecture, and history on this trip than I had expected, and I welcomed the chance for a quiet walk. I strolled down to the Peja Town Square, a broad pedestrian area with shops, hotels, and restaurants framed by interesting architecture. From there, I crossed the bridge by the old clock and followed the Lumbardhi Peja River until I reached the stone bridge, where I crossed again. I was hoping to find traces of the city’s older past — and did: Haxhi Zeka’s Kulla, Haxhi Bey’s Hammam, and another kulla nearby. The kullat, traditional stone tower houses found throughout the Balkans, are remarkable glimpses into Peja’s history. Still, I couldn’t help but feel the city could do more to showcase these pieces of its cultural heritage.

*Left: Clock on Peja’s Town Square: Right: a kullat, or traditional stone residential tower-home in Peja*

Our time in Peja had come to an end, and the next day we would return to Pristina to begin the final stretch of our journey through Kosovo. It had been a full few days — rich with history, beauty, and more than a few winding roads.

October 20, 2025 by trs

Balkans Bound, Part Five: Cetinje, Podgorica, & Ostrog Monastery

This is the fifth installment of my daughter’s and my trip to Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro in August 2026.

*C at the upper level at Ostrog Monastery*

On the eighth day of our trip and our fifth day in Montenegro, C and I said farewell to Kotor. We were off to Cetinje, the country’s former capital. To get to Cetinje, I had two options: up and over Mt. Lovćen or around it. Having already had two drives through the serpentine road, I opted to go around!

Cetinje served as the royal capital of Montenegro from the 15th century and the capital of independent Montenegro from 1878 to 1914. Today, the city is still considered the seat of Montenegrin culture. It is on the UNESCO World Heritage Site tentative list for its “historic core.” With that sort of pedigree, I figured that Cetinje was a “must-see” when in Montenegro.

*Left: The Court Church in Ćipur, the 1890 church in Citenje, inside which are interred several members of the Montenegrin royal family; Right: The Monastery of St. Peter*

We started at the Court Church and made a circuit around the historic area. The church didn’t appear to be open, so we took in its exterior before continuing on. Our next stop was the Monastery of St. Peter, a Serbian Orthodox monastery founded in 1484. The building’s architecture was beautiful and striking, and I would have loved to go inside, but we weren’t dressed appropriately. Although I’d read that tourists in shorts might be given wraps to cover their legs, there was no one around to offer them or to admit visitors. The gate that seemed to be the entrance was closed, so we lingered for a moment to appreciate the monastery’s façade, then moved on.

As we entered town, we passed Biljarda Palace, the 19th-century residence of Prince-Bishop Petar II Petrović-Njegoš (of the Njegoš Mausoleum fame), now home to a museum dedicated to his life and work. Along Njegoš Street — a pedestrian-only road through the center — we saw many fine old buildings, including the former French Embassy. Some were crumbling with age, while others were clearly in the midst of restoration. Something about Cetinje felt off — it was too quiet, almost abandoned, and C and I just couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for exploring it.

From Cetinje, we continued just a short distance outside town to visit Lipa Cave — Montenegro’s first cave open to the public. Permanently opened in 2015, it’s one of the country’s largest caves and has quickly become a popular tourist attraction. I seem to have a thing for cave tours; I’ve visited Mammoth Cave, Wind Cave, Jewel Cave, Carlsbad Caverns, and Luray Caverns in the United States, along with several others around the world. Lipa Cave keeps a cool ambient temperature of about 45–55°F, so it’s definitely on the chilly side. At the car, C was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and I insisted she put on something warmer. Being a teenager, she insisted she was “fine” and only grudgingly put on a sweatshirt. But when we reached the cave entrance, she quickly realized I hadn’t been kidding about how cold it would be! Our visit included a one-hour guided tour, which proved both fascinating and refreshingly cool. Even C expressed a lot of interest! Once back outside, we were grateful for the summer heat.

After exploring Lipa Cave, we continued on to Podgorica, Montenegro’s capital, which would be our base for the next two nights. After several busy days, we opted for something familiar and went to the Hard Rock Café for a late lunch — a bit of a travel tradition for C and me, as we’ve visited locations all over the world. Downtown Podgorica felt a little untended and quiet, though parking was surprisingly difficult. Lunch, unfortunately, was forgettable, and we spent the rest of the evening simply relaxing at our hotel.

*Ostrog Monastery from a view point just above the lower monastery demonstrating the near vertical limestone cliff of Ostroška Greda*

The following day, our main sightseeing goal was Ostrog Monastery. Built in the 17th century, this Serbian Orthodox monastery is dramatically carved into a sheer, almost vertical cliff of solid rock. It’s not only the most important pilgrimage site in Montenegro but also one of the most revered in the entire Balkans.

Ostrog is about an hour’s drive northeast of Podgorica. For the first fifty minutes, everything was smooth sailing — easy roads and light traffic. Then, as we neared the lower monastery, about three kilometers below the upper one, traffic ground to a crawl. I wondered if we should have parked at the lower monastery and walked up. But by then, we’d passed the lot and were fully committed to the narrow, winding road — no turning back (literally). Ostrog sees about 100,000 visitors a year, and I’m fairly certain most of them showed up that same day. Traffic attendants were trying their best to direct the chaos while crowds of pilgrims and tourists hiked up from the lower parking areas. It took us nearly another hour just to find a spot. When we finally arrived at the upper monastery, we joined the long line to get inside — though, thankfully, it moved faster than the traffic. Once inside, it seemed we could spend as much or as little time as we wanted.

We spent about an hour at Ostrog. The monastery itself isn’t all that large — the upper section consists of two cave churches, a stairwell, and a terrace that opens onto breathtaking views of the Zeta Valley. The main church was damaged by fire in the early 20th century, but the cave churches and their frescoes survived and remain the site’s most historically and spiritually significant features. Beyond its religious importance and remarkable engineering, the sheer setting is unforgettable. Once again, we lucked out with perfect weather to take it all in. C, ever the good sport, joined the pilgrims in kissing the rocks, relics, and other sacred spots — but after a while, her enthusiasm began to fade. I started getting those unmistakable, withering teenage looks that signal it’s time to call it a day.

It turned out our timing was perfect. We made it back to the car and even managed two quick stops — one at a viewpoint and another at the lower monastery — before the skies opened in a torrential downpour. We got back to the hotel, then spent the rest of the afternoon and evening chilling.

*Left: Graffiti art in Podgorica’s old town; Right: the Old Town Clock Tower, built in 1667.*

The next morning, we went into Podgorica to explore the old town. Being a Monday, the city felt livelier — more traffic, more people, and completely full parking lots. I finally spotted a space, only to realize it was in a reserved lot, but after a little negotiation with the attendant, he agreed to let us stay for just an hour. With that, we set off on a rapid sightseeing tour. We headed for the old town — Stara Varoš (Стара Варош) — an Ottoman-era neighborhood that was once the heart of the capital between the 15th and 19th centuries. Much of it was destroyed during World War II, and perhaps a walking tour might have brought its history to life, but ours was at a sprint, and whatever traces remained were easy to miss. We made it back to the car just in time.

As we drove to Kosovo for the final days of our trip, I thought back on our time in Montenegro — full of history, dramatic scenery, challenging mountain roads, and a fair bit of adventure, not to mention the cats.

October 16, 2025 by trs

Balkans Bound, Part Four: Kotor & Surroundings

This is the fourth installment of my daughter’s and my trip to Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro in August 2026.

On the sixth day of our trip and our third day in Montenegro, we took the car and drove about 30 minutes north along the Kotor Bay road to the small town of Perast. Although Perast was also Venetian, it was not enclosed by city walls like Kotor, Budva, or Sveti Stefan; instead, it was protected by nine defensive towers and a fortress. Also, unlike the other towns, Perast has not outgrown its historic location; it has no modern buildings and no roads through it. There are only the traditional stone houses and baroque palaces. And in its bay, the Church of Our Lady of the Rocks.

Since I’d read that parking in Perast fills up quickly during the peak summer season, I wanted us to get there early. Although we’d beaten jet lag from day one, we’d fallen into a routine of waking up around 8 AM and leisurely getting ready for a 9 AM start. As we approached Perast, we could see that several small lots were already full, and cars were parking alongside the roadway and walking further. But the Gods of Parking must have been shining down on me as we pulled into the lot closest to the town, the man at the entrance made eye contact with me and offered me his space IF I also purchased a ticket from him for the boat out to Our Lady of the Rocks. Done!

*Some photos from our visit to Our Lady of the Rocks, Perast, Montenegro*

The 17th-century church Our Lady of the Rocks stands on an artificial island that townspeople began creating around 1452 by dropping rocks and sinking old ships. A young man with impeccable English (so much so that I asked if he was North American) ferried us over to the island, giving us half an hour to explore before returning to pick us up.

*A view of Perast from the top of the church bell tower*

We made the most of our time, making sure to circle the church to take in all its exterior details, and also joining a tour that led us through its beautiful interior. The island is small and doesn’t take much time to explore, but it was crowded, and the number of people allowed inside the church at any one time was limited. Had we been alone on the island, 30 minutes would probably have been fine, but on our visit, I felt a little rushed. But, it would have to do.

Back in Perast, we did a bit of sightseeing and climbed the very narrow stone steps to the top of the bell tower at the Church of St. Nicholas. I later learned that children under 15 aren’t supposed to climb, but no one asked about C’s age, nor did they say a word to us. I guess our one-euro payment was enough to overlook that little detail. We finished our walking tour with a bit of gelato, because why not have some for brunch when on vacation in Europe?

Our next stop was the Mausoleum of Njegoš. It was only about an hour’s drive from Kotor, but much of the route wound along a serpentine road climbing up Mt. Lovćen. I’ve done plenty of driving in all sorts of places, so I was mostly fine with the road, but it demanded a lot of concentration and patience with so many others making the same journey. We broke up the journey with lunch at a restaurant high up on the mountainside with a tremendous view of the Bay of Kotor.

*Left: Screenshot just before we entered the serpentine road on Mt. Lovćen; Right: A view of the Bay of Kotor from along the road up Mt. Lovćen*

After lunch, we continued our climb, navigating a few more dramatic twists and turns before the road finally leveled out near the top. We entered Lovćen National Park and followed the winding route on to the Mausoleum of Njegoš, perched atop Jezerski Peak — the second-highest of Mount Lovćen’s two summits — at 5,436 feet above sea level. The mausoleum honors Petar II Petrović-Njegoš, a 19th-century ruler and poet, who chose this peak for his resting place because of its sweeping views over the land he cherished.

We parked in the parking lot and took the 461 steps, most of which are located in a tunnel that goes through the mountain itself, up to the mausoleum. I was not prepared for what greeted us at the top—the solemn light granite structure with an entrance flanked by statues of two women in traditional Montenegrin dress and the breathtaking 360-degree views over Lovćen National Park. I can understand choosing such a spot as one’s final resting place. I felt contemplative and even blessed to be able to visit. I had almost given this place a pass.

Unfortunately, the quickest way back to Kotor was the same serpentine road we had taken up. The drive down felt both less stressful — because we knew what to expect — and more stressful, thanks to heavier traffic. Several times we had to pull as close as possible to one edge or the other to let another vehicle pass. At one point, we were caught in a logjam when several full-sized buses tried to navigate an especially narrow stretch. Thankfully, a few people got out of their cars to direct traffic — some drivers were asked to back up, others (including me) to inch along the cliffside — until there was finally enough room for the buses to squeeze through. Once back in Kotor, I breathed a sigh of relief. With plenty of excitement for the day, we picked up some groceries, made a meal of sandwiches and chips on our balcony, and had a quiet evening.

On our final day in the Kotor area, we started with a ride on the cable car, which climbs another part of Mount Lovćen. From the lower station, it travels 3,900 meters (about 12,795 feet) in just 11 minutes to reach the upper station, perched 1,316 meters (4,218 feet) above sea level. Along the way, the views are breathtaking — stretching across the mountains, over the Bay of Kotor toward the side near the airport, and almost all the way to the Adriatic Sea.

*Left: Our view from the Kotor Cable Car as we near the top; Right: C just ahead of me on the Kotor Alpine Coaster with a dramatic view of the cable car and beyond*

The cable car ride itself was pleasant enough, and the views were well worth it, even as the first clouds of our trip began to roll in. At the upper station, however, a new attraction awaited: the alpine coaster — a self-controlled mountain ride where riders regulate their own speed with a brake lever. C and I have ridden similar coasters in Jamaica (at Ocho Rios) and the Great Wall of China, both of which offered thrills. But the coaster in Kotor takes it up a notch, perched dramatically on the edge of a mountain. Though two people can ride together, C opted for her own car. As the car sped down the first hill and headed toward the edge, I really wondered what I was thinking! But we both loved it so much, we rode it two more times!

*C surveys Kotor from St. John’s Fortress*

Back in Kotor, we had one more thing to do: climb to the 6th-century St. John’s Fortress, which sits like a sentinel above the old Venetian city. Starting from the back of the old town, we paid the 8 Euro entrance fee and then followed a steep path along the fortifications that clung to the near-vertical slope of St. John’s Hill. It was not easy going; it was hot, we were a bit tired, and the steps were uneven or non-existent. As we climbed, C frequently asked if we could just stop or if I would leave her somewhere to wait, but then she would reluctantly press on. There were times when I, too, thought, maybe this point is good enough? But I really wanted to reach the top. The views along the way—and especially from the top at St. John’s Fortress—were amazing, and once at the fortress, C conceded that maybe it had been worth it.

Accomplished, we made our way back down, rewarding ourselves with some gelato in town before we headed back to the guest room. We needed to prepare for the next part of our journey.

October 12, 2025 by trs

Balkans Bound, Part Three: Arrival in Kotor

This is the third installment of my daughter’s and my trip to Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro in August 2026.

*The view from our guest room in Kotor, Montenegro*

The morning my daughter and I were departing Shkoder, Albania, for Kotor, Montenegro, I checked the route in my maps app and discovered the most direct route across the border was closed due to wildfires. The heat wave we had been experiencing had contributed to wildfires across southern Europe, including Montenegro. We would have to take another, longer route to get to Kotor. Instead of along the coast, the route that generated my whole plan to include our side trip to Albania, we would drive along the southern edge of Lake Shkodra and cross into Montenegro southwest of its capital. I opted not to drive through the capital and instead skirted the western edge of the lake, then take the only road that crossed the lake.

The drive to the border was uneventful, but once there, we faced a very long line of cars seeking to cross. Perhaps the traffic was due to this being the most popular crossing, or maybe it was caused by the other border being blocked by the fires; either way, it was tedious. At last, it was our turn, and I handed over our passports to the Montenegrin immigration official. He demanded to see the rental car papers, and I passed him the rental agreement. He stared at me, annoyed, and asked for additional car papers. I said I had not had to provide anything additional in Albania, and he gave me one of my most memorable quotes of the trip: “I don’t know about Albania, but in Montenegro, we have rules.” I explained that that was all I had, so he told me “Then, you will not be able to cross,” and asked me to pull over to the side.

Left: Screenshot of Google Maps route the day after we crossed; on the day of our drive that route was blocked by another fire at that border crossing; Right: Wildfires visible around Bar as we drive to the coast

There, I sat thinking for a minute, then I opened the glovebox, and found the car registration. I thought back to the eager car rental guy back in Kosovo, who had quickly shown me all of the car’s scratches, but when I has asked about crossing borders had said it would be “no problem” and failed to mention the all-important car registration. Sigh. I realized that the immigration official likely needed this, so I grabbed our passports, the registration card, and told C to wait in the car, and walked back to the official. He shook his head at my apparent stupidity and stamped us into the country.

*View of the famed Sveti Stefan from the coastal road*

We were now even further behind my hoped-for schedule. Things only got worse as we drove along narrow roads and encountered random traffic. I had hoped the drive across Lake Shkodra would allow for a quick photographic stop at Fort Lesendro, a fortress located on an island on the lake, which the road crossed, but there was no place to pull off. It passed in a blur. We drove over the mountains to meet the coastal road, and as we neared the coast caught sight of smoke plumes from wildfires on the hills around the popular town of Bar. Though this was a very time-consuming detour, I felt glad I had not chanced our original route.

We stopped briefly along the coastal road to photograph Sveti Stefan, a 15th-century Venetian fortified town located on a small island connected to the mainland by a narrow isthmus. It is so beautiful that photographs of this location are used for many a screensaver. However, the island is private and used as a luxury resort. I had considered driving up to a small church further up the mountainside for its views of Sveti Stefan, but we were already so far behind that our one quick stop would have to do.

Our lunch stop was Budva, a larger Venetian walled town just a little further up the coast. My plan had been to arrive around 11 AM, but instead, we arrived three hours later, tired and hungry. Parking was a bit of a nightmare; I had read it was difficult in the height of summer, and headed for a mall parking lot that online had said was usually available. The lot was full, so I had to wait until a car departed before I could pull in and park.

There were quite a lot of people in the walled town. Some of the narrow walkways were wall-to-wall tourists. The tiny beach in front had almost no square of sand unoccupied. Yet, the first few restaurants we tried were closed. It was quite hot. Bothered by the crowds and the heat, we decided on smoothies from a little hole-in-the-wall shop. Fortified, we toured the Citadel and the narrow streets. Had it been less crowded, it might have been nice to see some of Budva outside the walls, or maybe not. There were just far too many people and we could not feign longer interest. We wanted to get to Kotor.

Though only an hour north, there was again heavy traffic through the center of Kotor. And, when we arrived at our room for the next four days, the manager was not on site, though I had messaged upon our departure from Budva. Finally, he arrived (he had been at the beach) and showed us to our lovely flat on the top floor of his multi-story condo. With our last bit of energy, we made a quick stop trip to a nearby supermarket so we could have dinner in peace and quiet, on our balcony while we watched the sun set over Kotor Bay.

*Left: A coin from the Cats Museum; Right: One of the super cute cats of Kotor*

The next day, C and I set out to explore the UNESCO-listed old town of Kotor. Our first stop had to be the Cats Museum. The only other place I have visited a cat museum was in Kuching, Malaysia. Kuching means “cat” in Malay, and Kotor’s historical name under the Venetians was Cattaro. Though that does not mean “cat,” it seems the people of Kotor, who have taken to protecting the numerous street cats of the town, rather enjoy the play on words.

*C in front of the 10th century Roman Catholic St. Tryphon Cathedral in Kotor’s old town*

Kotor’s Cats Museum is small, just two small rooms and a reception/gift shop. Yet it is chock full of cat stuff – propaganda with cats, studio photography of persons with their cats, postcards, newspaper articles, currency, and so on, all featuring cats. Proceeds from the museum’s entrance fee and the sale of its souvenirs support the care and feeding of Kotor’s street cats. C and I loved the museum and finding Kotor’s cats throughout the town.

We had lunch outside in one of the many small squares of the walled town. Then C and I did a bit of sightseeing and window shopping. C had actually done some online sleuthing and informed me that shopping is a big thing to do in Kotor’s old city, and it would be key for us to take part. By the early afternoon, though, we were again tired by the heat and the long day of road travel the day before, so we returned to our guest room to rest.

In the late afternoon, I was ready to return to the old town, but C bowed out. We had been rather “go-go-go” for the past few days, and it was just the right day for her to take a break. I relished the time to just see things at my own pace, to go slowly and take photos of whatever I wanted without a teenager telling me her legs hurt or she was bored or asking “How much longer are we going to be here?” I love that she is now at an age to enjoy more of the history, but can also be left in the hotel to do her own thing when I wish to do mine.

*Left: The inside of the Sea Gate to the old town; Center: The Gurdic Bastion of the old town; Right: a view of part of the Square of the Arms and the Clock Tower from the top of the old town walls*

I loved walled cities. I have visited many in my travels, from Avignon and Avila to San Juan, Xian, and Galle. Kotor is magnificent and I am grateful that I was able to spend a few hours exploring on my own. I could have certainly spent more time there. However, we had more to see and do in Montenegro.

October 8, 2025 by trs

Balkans Bound, Part Two: Northern Albania

This is the second installment of my daughter’s and my trip to Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro in August 2026.

*Along the road in northern Albania from Prizren, Kosovo*

On the second day of our trip, C and I woke up in Prizren, Kosovo, ready to head out on the next part of our journey. When I was first planning our trip, I thought we would visit only Kosovo and Montenegro. Yet, as I looked at the map and the places I most wanted to visit, I realized it would make more sense for us to drive through northern Albania to get to coastal Montenegro from Kosovo. Otherwise, we would spend more time backtracking and driving over some of the same ground.

Back in 2000, I had planned a trip to Albania from Macedonia that had not gone quite right. Though I had then planned to visit Tirana and Durres, not northern Albania, and had instead ended up with a hilariously strange three hours in Sarande in the south, this still felt like righting a past travel wrong. C, always keen to add another country to her belt, was definitely up for it.

*Sights along Shkodër’s main pedestrian thoroughfare in the city center*

We first needed to fill up on gas before entering Albania and tackling the 2.5-hour drive. This led to a humorous stop at a petrol station just outside Prizren. With my non-existent Albanian and the attendant’s broken English, I managed to get the car filled up and the fuel paid for. Then we were on our way. The border with Albania is only a 20-minute drive from downtown Prizren, though I made it take longer due to finding an out-of-the-way petrol station and taking a wrong turn or two. I had no idea how long it might take at the border and was very surprised to find that it took no time at all. Neither the Kosovars nor Albanians paid our car any mind. Though I stopped at the window to hand over my passport, the three immigration agents were engaged in a conversation amongst themselves and waved me through without a glance. This was wildly different from the difficult time I had with Albanian immigration in 2000.

Our first hour in Albania went smoothly. The A1 Highway to the Kosovar border was wide and smooth. The views as we drove through the mountainous area were stunning. Then, I received a notification of a serious accident where the A1 met the road north, which would lead to delays of at least an hour. Having already departed Prizren later than expected and then losing time due to my fueling adventure, I was not eager to delay further. I turned off the A1, hoping the small roads would get me there. Oh, they did, but it still took a bloody long time.

One of the many striking photographs at the Marubi Museum that capture a snapshot of the ethnic, religious, cultural, costume, and trade history of the region; I especially loved this photo as my mom owned that exact style of Singer sewing machine

We rolled into Shkodër, Albania’s main northern city, around 1:30 in the afternoon. Unfortunately, it took about 30 more minutes to figure out the hotel parking. Google directions kept leading me down a very narrow back alley that turned into one way (the opposite direction) just before reaching the gated parking area. In the other direction, one had to drive a short way down a pedestrian-only road, then hope the bored parking attendant was in his little booth (he wasn’t at first) and then crawl behind him as he walked the 200 meters to the parking lot and unlocked it. Nerve-wracking!

We quickly checked in and headed out to a late lunch. After filling our bellies, we went for a bit of a sightseeing stroll. We felt like melting as we walked along the pedestrian street. It was 103 degrees out; a heat wave was sweeping southern Europe. We did not last long in the heat and decided to duck into the Marubi National Museum of Photography. It is a small but interesting display that marries the history of a family of Albanian photographers (the Marubbi), celebrates the art of photography, and displays a period of Albanian history captured in photographs.

We cut short our midday walk, defeated by the heat and the fatigue of having been in the car four hours that morning. When the temperature dropped a little at the golden hour of dusk, we stepped out again for another short stroll. Then we returned to our hotel, just across from the Ebe Beker Mosque, and rested up for the next day’s adventure.

On our second day in Albania, we woke up a little earlier so we could drive west, into the wonderfully-named Accursed Mountains to the picturesque hamlet of Theth. Having spent so many hours driving to Shkodër the day before, I was not overly thrilled to get back in the car again for another long drive. I had spent the night before researching other options, but nothing sounded anywhere near as appealing as Theth. So, Theth it was!

I am so grateful that we elected to stick to our plan. The weather cooperated magnificently, and the drive delivered stunning vistas around nearly every turn. The road, though narrow and often capable of giving some drivers vertigo as it clung to mountainsides, was well-paved. I would, however, not want to make that journey in bad weather or at night. After two hours, we arrived in the hamlet at the heart of Theth National Park.

The small hamlet of Theth has a population of perhaps 300, though I cannot imagine many of them remaining in the isolated valley through the harsh winter when that winding road is impassable. Yet this stunning location draws some 5,000-10,000 tourists during the summer months.

We parked beside the very popular Pizzeria Jezerca, which fronted a small bathing beach and the Theth River. It seems that nearly all the visitors that day were at the Pizzeria. We had a great lunch and then went down to the river. Though the heat wave continued, the temperature was a few degrees cooler in Theth, maybe 95? But that river was ice cold! So cold it felt like pins prickling our skin. But oh, how beautiful the setting! And I even watched a striped snake swim nearby, slipping beneath the rocks.

*The stunningly simple Kisha e Thetit or Church of Theth*

After our dip, we wandered down into the hamlet to visit its most famous landmark: the simple yet striking 1892 church. While charming in its own right as a piece of architecture, what truly sets it apart is its setting — nestled in a grassy, fenced-in field and surrounded by the towering Albanian Alps. We circled the church slowly, alternating between quietly taking it in and snapping photos.

I’m mindful that my teenager might only tolerate so much quiet admiration of historic buildings, but C seemed just as captivated as I was. After a decent pause, we continued on to the 400-year-old Reconciliation Tower — a stout, two-story stone structure once used to mediate blood feuds. Those accused in local conflicts were locked inside for protection, giving the community time to cool down and resolve tensions before resorting to violence.

By this time, the heat was again getting to us as we meandered our way back to the car. We had debated about doing the recently added zipline, but ultimately decided it made sense to begin the drive back. Although we had not really experienced any jet lag, I did not want fatigue—whether from jet lag, long driving, or the heat—to become an issue on that mountainous road. And, there was more for us to see!

Just outside Shkodër stands the Mesi Bridge, a stone relic of the Ottoman era built in 1770. It was designed to span the Kir River — though when we visited, the riverbed was bone-dry; there was not a trickle in sight. Yet even without water beneath it, the bridge remained an impressive and beautiful monument to Ottoman engineering. The Mesi Bridge is the longest Ottoman bridge in Albania, and one of the best-preserved in the entire region

To wrap up our amazing day, we next headed to the ruins of Rozafa Castle. Located on a stony promontory outside Shkodër proper and overlooking the confluence of the Drin and Buna Rivers, the ruins of the largely Venetian stronghold (though also used by the Ottomans) are a popular place to take in the sunset.

We parked in a small lot in the front yard of an enterprising family who happened to live just across from the lower entrance. The man of the residence took time to criticize my parking, but it was in such an amusing way that I took it in stride. We then made our way up the steep stone driveway to the top entrance; I am so glad that we parked where we did, as the upper lot was small and most definitely full.

*Left: C looks out from the Rozafa ruins; Right: Part of the Rozafa ruins at sunset*

We easily spent an hour at the ruins. The area is quite extensive, and there were a surprising number of tour groups, yet except at a few very photogenic spots, it did not feel crowded.

I would have liked a little longer at Rozafa, but we had been on the go all day. It did not feel possible that we had done so much, seen so much in a day. Our stopover in Albania had been perfect, but it was time to head on to our next destination.

The Wanderlust Diaries

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