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Ginger in Montenegro: she climbs the mountains and not only the mountains

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Ginger in Montenegro: she climbs the mountains and not only the mountains

Being awake these days has so many different meanings.

To wake up.

To wake up with a new day.

To wake up in relationships.

To wake up from my own dreams, that is the biggest trap I’ve ever been in.

To wake up from the misapprehension.

From falling in love. Because you should not fall anywhere.

From lukewarmness.

And then, after all that, to wake for real.

Oh, how many mornings I needed until I actually opened my soul. Only so I can see it. It was as all the world’s veils hid my gaze from the core and as if I had to remove the layer by layer.

How many cities, how many mountains, how many nights to close your eyes.

How many moments to open them.

And now I’m here.

Preparing the most delicious food I ever tasted, just before reaching the highest point of Mount. Durmitor.

Oh solitude, my sweetest choice.

I am a woman. All by myself in the very heart of this beautiful mountain and no, I can’t write. Every word I knew is lost in translation somewhere between the mountain breeze and this little heart of mine that I’m trying to save from the world below.

I would trade all those good restaurants, the flattering gentlemen and the smiles under which you can never tell what is hiding for one moment like this. Eye to eye, heart to heart with my mountain.

Actually, that’s exactly what I am doing now. Never supported escaping. Then… escaped.

The lesson I learned this time was that you have to recognize when the lesson is no longer a lesson, but simply a torture.

I love lessons. All my life I’m passing them, I’ve made a friend out of my enemy. But then I realized I have to pay attention to the crossings. Shades. It was not easy. But when you are in a deep shit, I beg your pardon, you have to know if this is the shit in which you have to swim. Because sometimes it’s there … only to swim in, which is not the point. The point is to get out of it and to see from the new, fragrant perspective why you were swimming.

That’s why my today’s message for you is: stop drowning in shit.

The shitty lesson is not good. And take the lead. Even if at that moment it seems like you surrender. Those are not lessons, those are impediments.

No, the civilization and the society in which you live are a big nonsense ( human stupidity is the only thing that is infinite in this little universe) and if you think that you are doing well in it, doesn’t mean that you are really doing well.

Until you enforce your rules for your own life, it’s not good. It’s someone else’s.

And until you realize that freedom is the only thing you should strive for, it’s not good. It’s not freedom.

I know what I’m talking about.

I’ve been working a lot on my waking and Mother Nature and traveling helped me more than anything else. But I wouldn’t be able to climb the tops or travel to the African tribes if I was listening to anyone around me. I had to listen to my heart. That was the only right choice.

Here in the mountains, thousands of meters away from anything that could stop me, I can grow without being interrupted.

I climbed the highest peak of Durmitor alone.

Rafted through the deepest canyon in Europe.

Passed only with my bare feet through the last canyon discovered on this continent.

Jumped from the highest bridge I ever saw.

And that was just the beginning.

Being a woman who conquers the streets of those wonderful cities in the high heels and beautiful gown is even more interesting when under ladylike appearance you are a lioness.

It’s nice to be just a woman sometimes.

But it’s even nicer to be a super woman.

To be the stunning little beast.

To choose the lessons tailored with your measures.

And peaks.

And freedom.

Freedom can only be absolute.

And you can live only once.

Only one sentence can be added after each story has ever been told.

’’And then she died.’’

Make sure you did the life well.

Dear diary: Kotor, 65 days left

Boka Kotorska travel poetry travel stories

Dear diary: Kotor, 65 days left

Bioenergetics say that the point where the most of positive energy in Montenegro interlaces is Gumno ( Lovćen), but the point from which Cattaro emerges indeed is the point from which evaporates the most incredible energy of a dead poet who fell asleep so we can sleep peacefully on his chest.

Do not be fooled, a dead poet is the most alive of them all.

Three years, or at this point of my age – one century, represents an illusion of time that I was ready to plant into the lion’s heart of this city. Although my heart, even before it went anywhere, cannot wait to return here. During these three years I welcomed so many beautiful and less beautiful souls to Kotor and to my life. I also greeted them. I craved to be alone here and that moment finally came. If I stayed alone in any other city, maybe I would not lean my head to its back and would not feel a joy of being there. Of it being there. Of us, finally alone, at the very end of the world. As two sweaty lovers, lighting a cigarette while lying on the bones of the Venetian Republic and writing their last verse.

We are so mad.

We foam with madness, laughter and life.

I am young enough to make a dead city alive and Kotor is old enough, so I can stay forever young. Perfect affair in which neither one of us is losing.

Last night, I called my brother:

-I can’t stand this anymore.

-What? – he asked.

-This amount of a beauty. I turn left and I see the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. I turn right and oh! – I see the one even more beautiful.

-Is it always more beautiful on the right?

We laughed and I realized: this is the only city in the world that isn’t forcing me to look straight in front of me. It’s the only one that is freezing the time for me, so I can stand still, without staying at the one spot and finally – grow in myself to new heights. So I can write the history, as winners do, as Cattaro wrote it once.

kotor, montenegro

Durmitor mountain: Devil’s lake

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Durmitor mountain: Devil’s lake

Once upon a time, in the years of the old legends, Greek Gods from Olympus mountain chose Durmitor to be their rest home. It’s known that in the old times Greeks lived in these parts, and it’s possible that they chose this mountain for their other Olympus. What can simple man say about this place of Gods and about all the region that surrounds it, watched out and protected by Gods themselves. The Gods care and protect it, together with fairies that live deep in the bosom of the mountain, with winged horses that fly from one peak to another.

Throughout its long history, many legends are told about Durmitor, its peaks, caves, lakes and heroes. I will tell you some of it, so when you visit this mountain and hear the thunder of horses in winter nights or fairies singing, you will know those are still all just stories and legends or maybe …?

Once upon a time, Jezera (Lakes, now large plateau), was all covered with pine forest. Then, a thunder roared, burned all the pines, and the wind blew the flames across the entire forest. The forest was then filled with all kinds of beasts and creatures. Beasts have fled to Durmitor, fairies to the clouds, and the devil, and his wife found the shelter in the lake, in the middle of Lakes. They made a delightful castle in the lake – all of the ice crystals and they live there to this day. This beautiful lake became a diabolical home, so they called it Devil’s lake. When you swim in it you can feel that it is the coldest Durmitor lake. It’s because the Ice Castle’s cold spreads everywhere. And when the young girl swims across the lake, the devil goes out from his castle, grabs her and drags her to the bottom, to his ice castle. If the boy swims, then the Devil’s wife grabs him and pulls him to her ice chamber at the bottom of the lake. Some say the devil usually occurs when the darkness falls, and even comes out on shore. Once they saw him in the form of a huge horse and sometimes he appears as the bull with huge horns. The bull eats a grass on the shore, passionately roars, blares and everything around him is trembling from his voice.

Beside the devil, there’s also a beautiful, red-coated horse. In the long, starry nights he emerged from the lake and made love to the mares from the flock of the celebrated Duke Momcilo, who lived nearby, in the town of Pirlitor. After their love act being consummated, he would kick the mare in the stomach to make her loose the fruit of their love act. But, once, when he tried to kick the mare, shepards came from the nearby hills, and forced a horse to return to his lake. The mare gave birth to the winged horse, named Jabucilo, on whose back Duke Momcilo flew from Pirlitor to Durmitor.

Durmitor mountain is the cradle of legends, the cradle of spiritual energy which makes me feel that I can be anything. That I can be the one with  Mother Nature, its leaves, water, sounds. That I can be endless. Growing up in the lap of the one of the most beautiful mountains in the world is an enormous honor. It’s a fortune for a little girl to be the fairy and to stay the fairy in this big, cruel world and to have all the mountain where she can escape when she needs a home.

When you go from Zabljak to the direction of Niksic, on the ninth kilometer you will see Vrazje jezero (Devil’s lake ), known as a cradle of winged horses.