I was saved by an incredibly helpful, somewhat put upon employee in an opulently-fitted-out office sometime in the early 1980s. So, panic over. Except I then made the mistake of trying to find a cash machine in Bari. Which, on reflection, makes me sound world weary and terribly knowledgeable about the nuances of travel, but which, believe me, was a pain in the backside. The fact that a carnival was in full swing made trying to find the hidden atms of Bari a ruddy nightmare, but I found one, eventually.
Sveti Stefan ferry
After all the travel and panic, then an unsatisfactory, hastily bought meal at Bari ferry terminal, I was exhausted. Sveti Stefan’s deserted restaurant, a couple of chilled Sick Nicks and the piped accompaniment of Balkanised renditions of Christmas carols provided temporary respite until the arrival of Emma from Toronto. Poor Emma from Toronto. Emma from Toronto was a lone traveller who, like me, may have been on a ‘get away from it all’ excursion. Unlike me, she attracted the gushing attention of Sveti Stefan’s Restaurant Manager, who took it upon himself to introduce her to every member of staff and anyone else who happened to wander past. The man bellowed, although to be fair, he was quite charming. Eventually, after a little good natured chat, Emma from Toronto grabbed her belongings and fled.
As did I. The Luxury Lounge where I’d booked an unwanted luxury reclining seat was shabby but empty enough to allow me to stretch out for an excellent night’s sleep after twenty hours on two trains, a plane and a coach. I woke up next morning with the beautiful Montenegrin coastline to starboard side. Or it might have been port. Left hand side, anyway.
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