Kotor, Montenegro. Dreamland. Alone in my AirBnb, an adorable stone flat in the heart of the city, complete with lace curtains and an antique clock. By the time I made it inside and collapsed on the bed, it was already 4:40 PM; I had been awake since 3:00 AM, travelling since six.

Cab to train, train to airport, flight to Podgorica, Podgorica airport. It’s a bit confusing and stressful renting a car, buying a SIM card. The English is not wonderful. I’m overwhelmed, but then, suddenly I’m sitting in a car with the keys in the ignition. Deep breath. I force myself to go.

That road, that drive. It was breathtaking, wild. Blue-faded mountains painting the skyline. Lakes of blue-grey. Tunnels and hills, and then, the abruptness of the seaside. The road was winding and the drivers were aggressive. I took my time.

It took a little under two hours to drive to Kotor, including a ten minute holdup at the entrance to the last tunnel and a ten minute holdup waiting for a truck to unblock the parking entrance. And, then, I was there. It was 4:40 pm. I made it, with an hour to spare before sunset. I had made it.

I always feel terrified before travelling alone, simultaneously terrified and excited, no matter how many times that I do it. It’s hard to describe. It’s a physical sensation, not logical. But I force myself to move forward. I force myself to go. I take my time. And I never, ever regret it.

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