Its an early start, I dont want too leave. Short walk to the Pile Gate in the old city walls. Taxi to the bus terminal. Just for curiosity sake I go to the information desk and ask about direct buses to Budva. Yes, they do exist, but are now fully booked. Hey ho. I think maybe they promote certain carriers more than others. I must learn to be more assertive! 

Load the luggage under the bus. There is always a small charge, remember to factor this in and have small money with you. Its usually a pound or so per bag. There are only a dozen of us on the bus. Allocated seating so no scrum for the best seats. Off we go. The bus climbs up and up out of the city, there is just a flimsy bit of fence between us and a long drop to the rocks and sea below. More incredible views. Our fare was 125 kuna (£12 ish). They journey is between 2 & 1/2 and 7 hours, depending who you speak too. I couldnt understand why no one could give me an accurate duration. I think I understand now. We grind to a halt at the border between Croatia and Montenegro. And we wait. An hour and a half later, the bus driver has got off, eaten his sandwiches and had a stroll on the hardshoulder. The young lady in the seat in front of us has got off to use the gents. (always a queue at the ladies, why wait). Finally we inch to the barrier. One by one we get off, get scrutinised by the official and made to walk a few yards down the road into no-mans land. We stand in the sun till we have all been processed, then the bus is allowed through. We all get back onto the bus and it drives 50 yards to the next border crossing into Montenegro. One by one we get off, get scrutinised, get our passports stamped and walk into Montenegro. Wait in the sun again till the bus is allowed through, then we all take our seats and move on. All very official. I noticed that no one looked in the luggage area or entered the bus to check that no one was hiding under the seats. Probably if you had walked into the scrub land either sideway of the road you could have walked through unhindered. 

Hey, ho, off we go. We head downhill toward Kotor. Kotor is on the shores of a fyord. I will check the term but I think it means sea water and fresh mix. Busy, busy place. Narrow roads with lots of traffic. We pull up at a ferry crossing. A busy man with a whistle is enthusiatically directing traffic. Looks like total chaos to me. Cars and motorbikes stop in what seems to be the middle of a road facing in all directions to go and buy a ticket, then have a smoke or drink a coke or eat a cake.....! No pristine marked rows like at Dover. There are about five ferries taking cars, lorries and buses across an expanse of water (not far, maybe a half mile) to cut off a long detour by road. I had not expected a ferry crossing, how exciting. We all get off the bus and take photos. We are almost chums now, intrepid adventurers off to  explore Montenegro. Ha ha. 

Before long we reach Kotor. The volume of noise hurts my ears. The tannoy announcing buses is drowned by loud music, and people are shouting to be heard over the din. Call me a grumpy old bag, but do we need this constant music? Most people listen to their own choice on ipods or their phones, and if they choose not to, they dont need someone elses choice forced on them. I feel another campaign coming along! 

I stand in a queue waiting to buy tickets to Budva. There is one lady of a certain vintage not used to modern technology trying to use a keyboard and mouse to sell tickets. Every so often she switches the terminal off and on, I assume this is when she has made a mistake and needs to backtrack. She is one determined lady, she will not be flustered, she will go at her own speed. She searches the keyboard for the letters she needs to type in. Half of me feels very sorry for her, the other half wants too try and crawl through the narrow opening in the window and give her a hand. Finally its my turn. I have exactly the right money and speak clearly with my requirements. Job done. Bus in ten minutes. Call me a grumpy old bag......again. But why do people wait in a queue to buy something then have to search through numerous pockets and bags for their wallets to find the money? Did they think it would be free? Also, is their phone call so important that they cannot call whoever it is back after they have completed the transaction. This poor Montenegroian grandma, is working this tech that is clearly not second nature to her, dealing with numerous nationalities who havent got the decency or manners to attend to the matter in hand, which is getting them where they want to go.

Its an hours journey on this clanky old bus (no aircon). It has a nasty rattle underneath which we diagnose as a worn UJ joint on the prop shaft. Norman is not prepared to crawl under there to check! Can't think why. Anyway, we reach Budva, get in a taxI and head for the shopping centre as per our hosts instructions. Time for a quick beer before she arrives, more canned music in the bar!

Another glamerous lady. And me looking like a sweaty greasy chip again. She walks us up the road to a lovely new building. Its got a lift! :-) It is also cool, stone floors, fresh paintwork. Looking good. Bloody hell, I can choose them! Its a gorgeous modern studio. Great space, lovely kitchen & bathroom, washing machine (woo hoo) balcony overlooking a busy little square with the mountains in the background. Restaurant just downstairs, beach five minutes stroll, shopping centre even less. BINGO! See Budva for more.