Stories We Haven't Been Able to Tell: The Old Man in Kotor

An old man slowly shuffles out to our small and battered tent with an unmarked bottle in hand. We've just arrived in another country, Montenegro this time, finally found a campsite next to the most gorgeous fjord I've ever seen, had dinner, and are watching the sunset as he approaches. Without words he simply holds up the bottle, a shot glass, and smiles. This is the guy who runs the campsite; what a place.
Read about the place...
We originally heard about the campground through some vague directions given to us by a very nice Belgian couple we met in Albania. After we told them we didn't have GPS, an intentional choice we only occasionally regretted, they figured they could still probably get us there, though they seemed a bit more skeptical. Turns out they had spent a few nights 'camping on this old man's lawn' outside the beautiful walled city of Kotor. 'It is a beautiful place, though there aren't really showers and only one toilet, and you are kind of just in the middle of his yard but it is beautiful,' the wife said. 'And cheap!,' the husband threw in for good measure.

So our first night in Montenegro we set off to find this place with little more than a village name and a rough description. We ended up passing the thing twice before we finally noticed an old abandoned trailer in corner of his property and saw that it really was just a front yard with a toilet and shower in the corner, but what a yard. It is set right on the edge of the Kotor Fjord and a ten minute drive to Kotor itself. There was only an outdoor shower, one working toilet, and our agreeable host. The man spoke no English (which we didn't expect he would) but he could get out a few phrases of broken Italian, to which we'd respond in Spanish. He showed us around, asked about our relationship and age (apparently we looked too young to be married), and then had a brief chat about politics (who knew there were McCain supporters in Montenegro) before we set up camp.

The rest of the our stay was rather pleasant and uneventful, we saw the sights of Kotor the next day, watched a wedding parade march by as we had lunch, and chatted with the old man again that night. In retrospect, this moment and place weren't that special, it did not change my life or lead to a divine epiphany but it did touch on an elusive sentiment. As we drank an unknown liquid with an 86 year old man watching the last bit of the sun dip behind the mountains I thought to myself, 'This is why we came here, this is why we travel.'