Salzburg, the home of the Mozart chocolate

I loved the Yoho hostel in Salzburg. Because they let me throw toilet paper in the toilet.


Before I get to Salzburg, here's the current life update on me: I am currently at home in Northern California for a day before I hop on my plane to New York City. I had to come home to leave my car with my parents, and leave all the stuff that's been in the trunk of my car for the last two weeks since I moved out of my old apartment in LA. I am finding myself gloriously productive this evening, in terms of accomplishing the two things that have been on my to-do list for weeks....adding to this blog (I'm what, a month and a half behind?) and putting pictures on facebook. For whatever reason those two things are not things that I am ever interested in doing, even though I've had tons of free time in the past few weeks. But maybe now with the threat of no internet in my NY apartment looming, I'm feeling that things must get accomplished. In New York, I am going to be staying in the Astoria condo of a wonderfully generous friend, but since she doesn't actually live there, there's no wireless. I am praying they'll be an unlocked network nearby...we'll see. I am incredibly nervous and excited about being in New York until the end of the year, living by myself for the first time ever, and working on Minsky's. It's almost time to take the plunge...


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So, on October 4, Michael, Kristen and I spent about 24 hours in Salzburg. There were two amazing things about Salzburg. The first amazing thing was meeting our friend Rob, who was our roommate the first night in the Yoho hostel. Rob is in the Navy, and was traveling by himself in Eastern Europe for about 10 days. He was one of the first Americans we'd met, originally from Fresno, and we all immediately hit it off. So Rob stuck with us on and off throughout the rest of the trip. Aside from Rob being the coolest dude ever, he's also a fantastic photographer, and I really appreciate all of the pictures he took, since as you know I'm not the best with photography. Oh, and Rob is also a constant supply of Mozart chocolates, which are hazelnutty goodness. So Rob is awesome.

The second amazing thing about Salzburg was the group we assembled in the Mirabell gardens to reenact the Do Re Mi scene from the Sound of Music. Really, my whole reason for wanting to visit Salzburg in the first place was to go on the Sound of Music tour. And it was amazing, especially our fantastically flamboyant tour guide, Peter. But it was a really rainy day, and so the beauty of Salzburg didn't have its full impact I think. What was amazing was what happened after the tour. We were in the Mirabell gardens, which is where Do Re Mi was filmed, and Michael decided it would be a great idea to reenvision the scene. We elected him as Maria, but realized that we would need a larger entourage if we were truly to embody the energy of the scene. So we asked two girls who had been taking our pictures if they wanted to join us in creating a video. They agreed to run and skip with us, even though they had their huge backpacks on their backs. Then, we cornered a Malaysian couple and asked them to join in the fun. I love how people are more willing to do something completely bizarre when they're in a foreign country. So Rob took the camera and we all lined up in the archway of greenery, prepared to skip our way towards the fountain. Michael was the designated leader.

Well, things went somewhat awry when Michael decided that Maria should suffer from back pain in the middle of our presentation. I tried to take over as Maria...

Anyway, to witness the glory, you can see our video here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaRnITDhGjs

Enjoy.

Oktoberfestastic!

What up homies. So at this point, I'm trying to just convince myself that I don't have a blog. Or that I finished it. I guess this just isn't my thing. But do you know what is MORE not my thing? Quitting. I am not a quitter. Which is why I will never stop using lip gloss 18 times a day. I'd be quitting. And with that intro, we flash back to Octoberfest:

Oktoberfest, we decided, is Disneyland for drunk people. Which is not actually what I anticipated. I envisioned a large green field with huge white tents sprawled across it. And there definitely were HUGE tents. What I did not envision was a massive fairground complete with roller coasters, tons of food booths and joyously wonderful drunk Bavarians dressed in lederhosen and drindl. I cannot even tell you the joy of Oktoberfest. If I had the money, I would go back every year. Here are some pictures to explain:















This is Kristen and I with our first beer.



















And here's Christiane and I, she was our amazingly amazing host in Munchen.



















And here's Kristen and I trying on drindls.

All in all, I found the people in Munchen incredible. And there is so much to do. We went to Fussen castle, the castle upon which the Disneyland one is based. We learned all about King Ludwig (Ludy) and his preference for men (ok, maybe we decided that had been the case). We went to Dachau which was sobering, but of course necessary. And Kristen and I added to our bunch like crazy: this was the point when our friend Michael joined us, Christiane and her boyfriend Flo hosted us, we met their friend Blade, and we met up with Michael's friend Kelly. Such a joyous time, and I would go back to Munich in a hot second.

Finally! My pictures!

These are only the pictures I took with my camera, which means there are some serious gaps since I relied on Kristen and Michael a lot. But here you go! You can click on the slideshow if you'd rather just look at them online yourself too.

Yay Europe!

Croatia and Italy with an unexpected delay in Zagreb

So, we made it to Dubrovnik quite easily, as it's only a 2 hour bus ride from Kotor. As we crossed into Bosnia-Herzegovina, and then again into Croatia, it occurred to me that we might have had a bit of trouble getting across two borders in our rental car. Perhaps we made the right decision about that Madonna concert after all.

When we stepped off the bus at the station in Dubrovnik, we were as usual greeted by a throng of people renting sobe in their homes. This was probably my favorite sobe-renting experience. We had been through the ropes by now, so we knew which questions to ask: Is it in the old city? Is there a kitchen? Do we have to share a bathroom? We got to talking with this old stout woman who spoke some English, and assured us that her place was the best. Then there was the question of price. As it was now halfway through the trip, I was starting to become a little alarmed by the fact that we had already spent more than half my money. Especially considering we were now entering more expensive territory. So we were on the prowl for cheap- like, 10 euros a night. But we quickly realized Dubrovnik was just too touristy, and that wasn't going to happen in the center. So we thought, ok, 15 euro each, which would translate to a 200 kuna room. We could do that. So we went back and forth and back and forth with this squat little woman, who unfortunately remained nameless, and finally the young girl turned to us and said, "Ok, 200 kuna." So we were off.

Getting to this woman's house was an ordeal, and wasn't made any easier by the fact that we had our enormous backpacks (which of course had only become more enormous over the course of the past weeks). We had to take the tram, then walk into the old city and weave through alleys and finally up about 200 stairs. The woman was huffing and puffing like crazy, and clinging to the walls as she went. And I thought to myself, how the hell does she do this every day? She looks like she's about to die! Finally we arrived at her home, shimmied our way up a narrow staircase, and threw our bags down in a tiny but pleasant double room. She showed us a map, and the bathroom, and let us get settled for a few minutes. And then I said, "We should pay you now?" And she said yes. And I said, "200 kuna?" And her face went blank.

See this is my favorite part about Croatians. And it happened everywhere we went in Croatia. When you ask a question that people either don't care to answer or deem too dumb to answer, they'll stare at you as if all of their skills in the English language have suddenly been zapped away. Or as if you're speaking Martian. So I tried, Lord knows I tried. But that bitch would not budge until she had 300 kuna in her hand. And at one point I thought about getting up and going back down all those god-awful stairs. But Kristen looked at me and said, "It's going to be 300 anywhere we go." And I knew she was right. I'm still pissed she got that extra hundred kuna though.

Anyway, Dubrovnik is a beautiful city. Very touristy though, more touristy than anywhere else we had been. It's funny because Dubrovnik was one of the destinations that I was most excited about when we left for the trip. And it was great, but it was other unexpected things in Croatia that really caught my eye. For instance, the islands on the horizon that looked like they had been dolloped onto he water by a spoon from above. It was rainy and we had run out of time to go to the Islands, but oh what a sight. And the drive from Dubrovnik to Split that we made the next day was one of the more stunning things I've ever seen. The Dalmatian coastline really is, as Lord Byron said, "the pearl of the Adriatic."

So the plan was to catch an overnight train from Split to Zagreb, and then a morning train from Zagreb to Venice. Our overnight leg was REALLY uncomfortable. The sleeper cars were sold out, or maybe I just didn't want to pay, but we wound up sharing a six person compartment with one older Croatian couple who felt they were entitled to take up four seats. And even after the woman snapped at me for putting my shoes up on the seat, she and her husband took off their shoes and put their smelly feet in our faces. Awesome. Needless to say, we didn't arrive refreshed in Zagreb.

So we wandered into the train station and up to the international ticket booth, and waited our turn. When we got to the front, we asked the woman for two reservations on the 7 am train to Venice. She looked up sharply and said, "No morning train. Only 23:35." And we said, "What?? Our Eurail timetable tells us there's a train at 7:20 am?" And she got that blank look that the Croatians get when they don't want to deal with you, and said, "Only 23:35."

Dammit. So for the second time in as many days, Kristen and I sat down and had to rethink our plan. Should we walk all the way to the bus station to see if we could get to Italy that way? Should we skip Italy altogether since the train was rerouted to Munich anyway, and Munich was our next destination? (That was not actually an option, as my original excuse for coming to Europe was to visit my brother in Padua.) Ultimately, we had no choice but to wait in Zagreb until the 11:35 pm train. And even though we were trying to save money, we figured there was no way we could do back to back overnight trains without getting some sleep during the day. So we walked to the tourist center and booked a room with this cute little French-speaking woman. (It was exciting to get to speak French with someone, since it's the only European language I actually speak and we weren't going to France.) So here is what our day in Zagreb consisted of:

-walking around the city and the main square- much of Zagreb is seeable in a day
-buying sweaters and boots since it was cheap and we were cold
-sleeping and taking showers at the French woman's house
-eating amazing Croatian sandwiches at this little stand called Pingvin
-seeing a play! We happened to land in Zagreb on a Friday during the Zagreb International Theatre Festival. I know, pretty cool. And even though this Flemish production of Antigone was not exactly my bag, how awesome to be able to say that I saw theatre with all the culture snobs of Zagreb.

All in all, not too bad for an unexpected day.

The next morning we arrived in Venice surprisingly quite refreshed. We had actually had a comfortable sleeper car from Zagreb to Venice! My bro, David, came to meet us in Venice and help us get back to Padua, but we figured since we were in Venice, we might as well walk through San Marco Piazza. BIG mistake. Can I say something actually? I kinda hate Venice. It's nothing but huge crowds of tourists, pigeons that shit everywhere, and convoluted streets to get claustrophobic and lost in. And honestly, I usually like getting lost. But not in Venice. I mean, for the love of God, it took us THREE HOURS to make a simple loop through the city. And yes, it's beautiful, and yes we got some nice pictures. But having been there twice now, I don't mind if I never go back to Venice. Seriously.

Padua, or Padova as the locals call it, is only 30 minutes from Venice, but a whole different place. I loved walking around the calm city with Dav, and meeting his study abroad friends. There's really nothing to do but eat there, so on our first day, we had lunch, had dinner, got gelato, and sat in the square to drink a Spritz. Not a bad day.

My second evening in Padua though, was my favorite, because David's host family invited me to have dinner with them. It was a group of 11: David, me, David's host parents, brother and grandmother, and then David's friend Elise, and her host parents and siblings (Dav's host father and Elise's host father are twins, hence the connection). I mean, how cool to sit around a table eating home cooked food while Italians gesture emphatically. Everyone engaged me a bit with English, but even when they slipped back into Italian, I swear I understood at least 50% of what they were saying. Italians are inherently theatrical, which is something I understand, and the commonality of Italian and French made it easy to follow. I don't even really remember what we talked about that night, but oh was it good conversation and good food! I'm so happy that David is so well taken care of there.

But alas, every good thing must come to an end. And we had to get to Munich. Michael Schwartz was arriving on a plane at 8:10 am Monday morning. And Oktoberfest 2008 was calling our name. So we we boarded our last overnight train of the trip (THANK GOD) and tried to sleep as we raced over the countryside into Germany.

NOW, and then Montenegro and our failed attempt to see Madonna

So I've created this weird split-world thing now, where I'm sitting here today, on Oct. 23 in my Los Angeles apartment, and pretending to be in Montenegro, where I was over a month ago. I guess that's what I get for giving up on my blog and then deciding to pick back up where I left off. The result is sufficiently confusing, both for you and for me. But I'm sorry, because before we get back to Europe, I have to report some amazing news that I received yesterday.

I have been awarded this year's Mike Ockrent Fellowship through the SSDC (Society of Stage Directors and Choreographers). The fellowship is giving me the opportunity to assist and observe director/choreographer Casey Nicholaw on a new Broadway musical called Minsky's. Casey is someone I really admire- he choreographed Spamalot and directed/choreographed The Drowsy Chaperone. I am REALLY excited about this. The whole application process for the job went on while I was traveling through Europe, and by the time I had returned home and not heard anything, I assumed that I hadn't gotten the job. But then two days ago, I got a call about an interview. And yesterday, after about ten minutes of chatting on the phone with Casey, he said "Well, alright Elissa, let's consider it done." I said, "Wait, what?" And he said, "Yup, consider it done."

So excited. And even better: now that I've gotten the job, I know what I'm doing for the next few months. Which was a big fat question mark until 4:30 pm yesterday. Here's my plan: I'll be in LA until mid-November. I'll probably stay through the Ovation Awards on the 17th, and then leave town on the 18th to drive up to my parents house and drop off my car. Then I'll fly to New York City, and from Nov. 24 through the holidays we'll be rehearsing in NY. BUT, the show is doing its pre-Broadway run here in Los Angeles. So on Jan. 4, we'll transfer the whole company out here to LA, and I'll be back here working on the show in January and February. And then I'll have to figure out what I'm doing after that. (Get a job and make some money....???) But hey, I'm 23. Please don't force me to live more than a couple months ahead at a time, ok? And please- let me stay broke if I want to. I like being a poor starving artist. Living the dream.

SO that's that. And now onto...or rather, back to the Balkans (doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo):

Montenegro

So, after a lovely one-day stay in Ohrid, Kristen and I climbed onto our overnight bus that was going to take us through Albania and up to Montenegro. Now, of all the journeys that we were going to undertake during our vacation, this was that one that we had been most cautioned about. Online message boards, travel agents, and the Greek guys had all told us to beware of traveling through Albania. So we expected the worst. We walked up onto the bus with our money belts strapped around our waists, our ipods and cameras buried deep in our backpacks, and our bladders drained of all fluid (these overnight buses don't have bathrooms, and you never know when they're going to stop). But I am sad to report, that aside from the smelly men sitting behind me, and the anticipatory mild panic attack that I suffered during the first half hour on the bus (I quickly squelched it with a Dramamine), the bus ride was entirely without event. And in the morning, we wound down off the steep cliffs of Montenegro and were greeted with the most spectacular view of the Bay of Kotor.

We had no hostel reservations, because we figured that we would be greeted by people offering sobe, rooms in their home. But, when we stepped off the bus, there were no such people around. So Kristen and I decided to walk towards the city in search of accomodations. We had gone about 10 feet when a man stepped out from behind a taxi and said with a very thick accent, "You need a room?" We replied yes, and within a minute we were in his car and he was telling us that his daughter Mirella was a travel agent. He said something about "Free" and kept repeating the phrase "Excellent tourist destination." Over and over and over. Kristen and I weren't exactly at our sprightliest, having just stepped off an overnight bus, so this man was a little much to handle. But if we thought he was intense....

Well, Mirella took the cake. This was the loudest, brashest woman I've ever met. No American could possibly be like her. As her father stood at the stove making us coffee, she was thrusting shiny brochures into our faces, and making a list of all the things we needed to do during our ONE DAY in Kotor. She asked me my name and proceeded to address a whole speech to me, completely ignoring the fact that Kristen was sitting right next to me. "Well, Ah-lee-sah, there are many beautiful things to see in Montenegro, and Ah-lee-sah, we are in Prcanj, and you need to see these islands Ah-lee-sah...." Ah! It was just too much to handle, especially when she plopped her guest book onto the table and started telling us all the wonderful things people had said about staying in the apartment next to her house. She also wrote out directions for us to everywhere we needed to go, and told us that we should take the 8:30 am bus to Dubrovnik the next morning..."There is an 8:30 am bus and a 2:45 pm bus, but Ah-lee-sah, you should take the 8:30 bus, because if you stay longer here you must pay more." Speaking of which....not free. Of course not free, I figured that much. But she wanted to charge us 15 euros each for the room, and when she realized we were about to stand up and leave she said "Ok, ok. 10 euro each. Very good price." And her father added "Excellent tourist destination."

So we went to our room, took a nap, and then spent the afternoon climbing the ancient city of Kotor. Now, why Kotor, you ask? How did you even hear of it? Well the answer to that is, I read about Kotor a couple of months before we left on the trip in Conde Nast magazine. Yup. There was a Conde Nast sitting on top of my roommate's toilet, and as I settled in I said to myself, I wonder if there's anything good in here? And that's when I read that the ancient city of Kotor is topped by a fortress, and the whole thing is built on a steep hill. The pictures were stunning so I decided we should make a stop in Kotor. I swear, some of the best discoveries in life are made on the toilet.

So, I digress. The hike was stunning. I can't really describe the Balkan coastline. It would take at least a thousand words. So here's a photo to do the job:



Kotor rocks. It's amazing. You can see that. What doesn't rock is Mirella, and I'll tell you why. The next morning, when we woke up to catch our bus, her father offered to give us a ride around the bay back to the bus station. But as we were pulling out of his driveway, the man in the little shop next door stopped him and pointed to his tire. It turns out we had a flat tire. However, rather than going back up the driveway to get one of his three other cars, Mirella's father tried to keep driving. "Five minutes, it will be ok." But about 100 yards later, he pulled off the road to fix the tire. Not ok I guess. So this man is running around the car grabbing the jack and then wrenching the spare out from the bottom of his trunk, and rushing to get all of this done because our bus is leaving in 15 minutes. It was ridiculous. And when he finally got it done, we still had to stop on the way because he owed us change from our 50 euro bill for paying for the room. So he pulls over next to a little hut, goes running out, comes back and hands Kristen 25 euros. She looked down and then up again and said "But, you owe us 30." And he replied "Taxi ride. 5 euro. Very good price."

A 5 euro taxi ride so we could watch his ass bob up and down as he changed his tire? I'm sorry, WTF?? But we looked at each other and thought fuck it, we need to catch this bus. So a minute later he drops us at the bus station, and we run inside to buy our tickets.

"Hello, we'd like two tickets for the 8:30 am bus to Dubrovnik."

"No bus at 8:30. Only at 2:45."

"Wait, what? Our host told us 8:30."

No response. And then the chick looks down, writes something on a piece of paper, and holds it up in our face. It said:

"2:45."

Thanks.

MIRELLA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Agh!!!!!!!!!!! We hate you!!!!!!

Now see, this created a problem. In a fit of madness the night before, Kristen and I had purchased standing room tickets to the Madonna concert in Budva, a Montenegrin town about 20 minutes away. Ever since we had gotten into the vicinity, locals kept asking us if we were here to see Madonna. We kept saying no. I can see her anytime at the Kabbalah Center on Robertson anyway. But finally one tzochke seller in Kotor told us that tickets were only 35 euro, and they weren't sold out. And we decided it would be AMAZING to see a Madonna concert in Montenegro. But now we had a problem. Today was Wednesday, and we needed to be in Italy no later than Saturday morning to see my brother. But we also wanted-needed-had come all this way to go to Croatia. So our plan was that we would go up to Dubrovnik Wednesday morning, spend all day, rent a car and drive back down to Budva on Thursday, see the Madonna concert, and then drive up to Split, Croatia on Friday in time to catch an afternoon train to Zagreb which would connect with an overnight train to Venice. Complicated?

Yes. So much so that this little adjustment threw a big wrench into our plans. We sat in the car rental place trying to figure out other options. I even have a page in my journal entitled "The Madonna Question" with four different possible scenarios. But when it came down to it, it was just too expensive to make it both to Croatia and back down to the concert. And there wasn't enough time.

I went back to the bank where we bought our tickets, and tried to sell them back. I was able to sell mine, but Kristen's was ripped so she was out of luck, they wouldn't take it. Who could we sell this ticket to? We hoisted our heavy backpacks up and walked across the square to an internet cafe.

It was our luck that we happened to sit down next to a Serbian high stakes poker player. Milos, as he is called, was playing online Hold Em, but was nonchalant enough that he could engage us in a chat. When we asked him if he wanted our ticket, to our delight and surprise he said yes! Subsequently, we had an awkward drink with Milos and his thug Serbian friends out in the square.

But then, luckily, it was time to go. So we said goodbye. Goodbye to Milos, goodbye to Kotor, goodbye to fucking Mirella and her father, and goodbye to the Madonna concert. We boarded our bus to Dubrovnik and were on our way.

Aren't I terrible at this?

This is Arjeta and I being hippie tree huggers in the Old City of Ohrid in Macedonia (FYROM).












FRIENDS!!!
I'm back in California. Yes, finally. Or maybe, yes, already. As you may have been able to tell, I totally gave up on my blog. This is a thing I feared might happen. Actually hoped might happen. And thus, it did. You see, I do all of my own journaling, which are my personal reflections on my experiences, and which I find very therapeutic. But no, you can't read those, they're mine. Anyway, I was finding it incredibly draining to write about my experiences not once, but twice, and also tiring to cram tons of information into a carefully thought out blog post when I had about 10 minutes of internet time every two days. But perhaps that was self mandated....because I was in EUROPE! I didn't want to be spending my time in an internet cafe. So I said to myself, "It's fine, Elissa, no one reads blogs anyway."

WELL. I have been astonished to have about five of you say to me in the few days since I've been home that you were actually reading my blog, and that you were disappointed when it just stopped. Well now I feel guilty. You see, I have a highly developed sense of Jewish guilt, especially about things that I start and don't finish. Uch. I had contemplated going online this weekend and saying,

Alright guys, these are the lessons I learned: _________________ and I'm sorry, but the blog is over. I hope you enjoyed the little you read!

But oh you loyal, lovely friends. I can't do that to you! You care about my stories and you want to hear them. (If you don't it's ok to stop reading now). So here's the plan: I'm going to pick up where I left off, do a new post every few days, and when I get to the end, this will be over. So, (insert flashback underscore here),

it's Sept. 20, and Kristen and I have just arrived in Ohrid, Macedonia:

But the backstory first: So back in 2005, when I studied abroad at the British American Drama Academy, I spent my week long break in Italy with my friends Tim and Zoe. We began the week in Positano, Italy, a stunning town on the Amalfi coast. We had decided to go to Positano because Zoe had spent two weeks there in a piano conservatory program when she was 16. It also so happens, that when cute little 16-year-old Zoe had stayed in Positano for two weeks, she had fallen in love and had a torrid affair with an Italian 3 years her elder named Alberto. Our mission, upon our return to Positano, was to find Alberto.

When the three of us arrived after the long trek from Naples, through Sorrento, and on a winding bus ride that finally brought us into town, we deposited our bags at our hostel and quickly made our way down the steep stairs towards the beach (Italians pronounce this word "bitch" and I love that). We stopped into a little cafe to get a bottle of water and got to talking with one of the Italians next to us, who could clearly tell we were tourists. He seemed very friendly and curious about us, so we decided it might be alright to ask this man if he knew of a young man named Alberto who might still live in town.

"Alberto?" He replied. "He's my cousin!"

Yup. He sent us to the police station where Alberto's brother worked, but the little shack that served for a police headquarters was closed- I guess they were out for a smoke. We figured we'd try again later, and headed to the bitch.

At the beach, we plopped down on the pebbles and spun our heads full circle gawking at the view. The crystal blue of the waves, the sun setting on the horizon and reflecting off of the pale yellow stacked houses, the man pulling his small boat into shore. And suddenly Zoe got this crazy look on her face, stood up, and started running toward this man with the boat..

It was Alberto.

I kid you not. And as the two of them reapproached Tim and I, arm in arm, Alberto said "It is destiny. I knew I would see you again." Such an Italian thing to say.

Anyway, we spent the next day with Alberto until we made our way to Rome. But I just thought it was truly magical how a girl could show up in a small Italian town and, by word of mouth and sheer luck, find the man she had made out with in a rocky crevice 5 years ago. I have a picture of Zoe reenacting that too....priceless.

So-

FLASH FORWARD three years to Kristen's and my arrival in Macedonia. (Ok, George, I know it's called FYROM. Federal Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. Don't argue with a Greek about this. Macedonia is part of Greece, the Macedonians stole the name).

Anyway, 30 years ago Kristen's mother had stayed with a Muslim Albanian family in Ohrid while she was backpacking through Europe. This family was called the Zhutas. Over the years, Kristen's mum had lost touch with them. But she did hear from them once in the early 90's when all of the Yugoslavian unrest began...the family asked her to sponsor them for visas to Canada. Kristen's mum tried to help them, but never heard back. Kinda scary. So, before we arrived in Ohrid, Kristen showed me these papers that she had- a copy of the Zhuta's address from 1978, and photocopies of pictures that they had all taken together. It was really not much to go on, but I was ready for the mission- operation find the Zhutas and hope they were still alive!

We arrived in Ohrid late in the day, and settled into our hostel with a cup of hot apple tea- yum. As we were chatting with the proprietors, we mentioned that we were going to try to find an Albanian family who Kristen's mum had stayed with 30 years before. Our dude took a skeptical look at the papers she had, then pulled out the phonebook and looked up the name Zhuta. There was one entry. So he called, and Ekuran Zhuta, the father of the family, picked up the phone. The dude nodded at us, and then spoke in hurried Macedonian into the receiver. Kristen and I just gaped at each other.

So yeah, within 30 minutes of our arrival, we found the Zhutas. Yup.

And they were wonderful! Ekuran and his son Ilber took us to drinks, Ilber's wife Arjeta showed us around the whole next day and treated us to a lovely meal in her home, and the Zhutas had us over for coffee and snacks. It was freaking amazing. There is nothing like stepping into someone's home and taking off your shoes when you've been traveling for three weeks. They were a dream.

So yes, it's true my friends. The world is a small place. Smaller maybe when you go to a place where the pace of life is calm enough that people get to know one another, and take time to chat over tea and crackers. Good things happen when we believe they can. It was pretty awesome finding the Zhutas.

AND, since I know what's coming, on the next chapter of Elissa's belated European adventures: A hike up the steepest city I've ever seen, and a failed attempt to attend the Madonna concert in Montenegro.

Stay tuned.

MIA

My dear blogging friends. I'm sorry I've been MIA. I have been working vigorously on an application for a fellowship, and it's all I've done every time I've seen a computer. But here I am! I'm alive and well and drank lots of beer at Oktoberfest!!! (the most amazing festival in the world) Since I have not been the best blogger, I would like to invite you to catch up on all of my adventures at my friend Kristen's blog: http://kristen-lostinwanderlust.blogspot.com. She is an amazing blogger, much better than me, and there are many pictures to boot.

I'll be back!