Week 3: Celebrate Good Times

1970s 

My third week in Porto Montenegro: All About 1974.
First, there was my sister's birthday to consider. Paige is her name. My one and only sibling and adored big sister. Before leaving Atlanta, I knew I would miss any celebration in person, so I gave her a present in advance. This included a cute Kate Spade travel and passport organizer. The message remains very clear. I want her to come see me soon. But, the 23rd of August, her birthday, was approaching and I needed more than a happy birthday long distance call. So, I became the Village's American wish monger and I gathered wishes in various languages from many people here at Porto Montenegro. "Happy birthday, Paige" was captured in Serbian/Montenegrin, Italian, Russian, Arabic, Spanish, and English.  Luckily for me, people were happy to help collaborate for a (very amateur) video montage. I even got the birthday song in Italian from my friend Laura, which I've since learned my niece Madeline continues to sing (her birthday followed on the 25th). So many of the contributors have asked me how her birthday was and if she enjoyed the video. I joked with Paige that they know her here- and they know me as Paige's sister. "Who is that?" "Oh, that's Paige's sister." "Who's Paige?" "I don't know, but she just had a birthday."
I had never used the iMovie app before and I can't say I learned a lot, but I learned enough to smash the wishes together and send it. She was thrilled and cried... because that's how we show we're so happy ;)... and my mission was complete. Sister feels loved.
While this was going on, I learned that the weekend's other 1974 celebration was themed. Guests were to dress in 1970s attire. The CEO at Porto Montenegro is turning 40 this year, as well.
The Venetian white theme, I pulled that off because I threw white pants in my suitcase at the last minute. I had ditched them and then put them back. I have several white tanks and tees. I just wore a BCBG white tank and Guess white trousers with a thinnest-of-thin black dashed pinstripe on them. Then, I put a giant jeweled necklace on and metallic heels and passed as all white. A 1970s costume- not as easy to pull off. I am theme party challenged. I rarely get it right even when I have my entire closet, thrift stores, costume stores and overnight delivery from Amazon. I missed the 80s once. How does one miss the 80s? It was a last minute participation, but that's no excuse. I was smack in the 90s, and the 80s is the biggest target ever! Plus, I am an 80s baby. Born 1980. I dig the 80s. And I missed it. It's a signature move that I'm looking to change. So, I was doubtful that I would look at all like 1970s anything.

No costumes, but okay.

I looked up American Hustle's costume design. Great movie. Great costumes, especially for Adams. It was subtle, a real life 70s. The main thing I saw was a plunging neckline- skin, gold jewelry, the evening bags, stilettos, and the iconic red lacquered nail. I did pack a dress with a very low neckline and I thought it could work. I started there and got the rest together. I blazed through downtown Tivat's stores. No luck. When I would say "costume", the store attendants would say "yes!" and take me to a suit fitting room, look at me and repeat "custom." What a difference an 'e' makes. I knew I was better off to smile and leave than try to google translate and image search through my iphone to communicate that I was looking for any angle of what may convey that we were from the 1970s fashion era. Therefore, everything I wore was something I really wear, except the headband, which was a last minute scissor snip of nude pantyhose. Plus, I went sans bra and that's as 70s (and as European) as one can get. Nick wore his own items too.
I wanted to offer up my red nails to sniff by all just to pay homage to Lawrence's character. I did not.

This is when you need your sister's arm to punch bug. 

As if by plan, there was a street blocked off in Tivat. Lining each side, vintage punch bugs! It was a VW retro spectacle- and fantastic timing.

The party- probably the best party I can remember.
Dinner was beginning when we arrived because Nick's work event overlapped in timing. Tables were set up at Lido rooftop, an open air restaurant overlooking the Lido pool and the Porto Montenegro marina. Nick and I were seated at a round table, at a 1:00 and 4:00 angle to one another. I met my dining comrades and posed for a photograph for one of them, in which I believe I was utterly cliche' and flashed the peace sign, just in case I wasn't American Hustle enough. Although, I may have missed that mark too, because my friend Tamara exclaimed when seeing me, "Oh!! Pocahontas hippie!!" I thought quickly. This worked. "Okay!" I agreed. That may qualify as an American Hustle story too. Only different and horrible.

Can you dig it? 
Meet Mr. Ivan Pekovic

The photographing fellow diner- an interesting one. His name, Rusty Young, and when asked what he does for life, his response was "Well, I'm a writer." Obviously, the next answer he'd provide was what he writes. He writes books. About what? This is the part that is absolutely not obvious. "About my time spent in a Bolivian prison." I don't even think I reacted to this. It was as if he'd said "my garden." He went on to explain that he wasn't sentenced to any sort of time in prison in Bolivia. He convinced authorities to let him stay in a prison in Bolivia. His book's subject matter was in this cell he sought and so, he wanted to be in this prison cell. In case you are wondering the name of the book, as I was, it is named Marching Powder. It has long been published and has since been adapted to a screenplay and the rights, purchased in part by Plan B Entertainment. That production company is owned by Brad Pitt. I'm thinking he may see a bit more success come his way in regards to this story. How about you? A safer bet. Rusty is still writing, he'll publish more, but in the meantime, I'm interested in reading his book. It isn't my typical go-to subject matter, but then again, I don't know what that would be anyway. He was friendly and funny. Nick and I both enjoyed our conversations with him during the night. I'll buy his book based on that alone.
Once at the table, we were immediately served wine and the courses started, so all this talk of Bolivian prisons and planet wandering (that belongs to him too) was over pasta and fish dishes. We were eating our truffle pasta, and due to the outdoor setting and night sky timing, Rusty questioned his taste for the odd pesto that he couldn't see before him. I told him it was truffle and one must like truffles to enjoy the dish. He responded that he did not like truffles. About ten minutes and one trip to the ladies' room later, I returned and he had eaten both his pasta and his wife's and had what could be the fastest taste acquirement for truffles in history. He revised his previous objection. There were others at the table, most from London. Friendly people, all ready for a good laugh and some 1970s dancing worthy of their gold foil dinner jackets.
They got that and more. We finished dinner with a champagne salute and then went to the outdoor pool area downstairs for the party. A dessert table, bar, dj, disco ball, strobe lights, roller girls with candy trays, fire twirlers, neon girls on stilts, and I can't even remember what else was outside. Amusements were flying from every direction. If my eyes weren't met with a neon yellow pant leg, I was being greeted with a rolling candy tray. This display was so fun to me that of all the candy on the tray, I selected one clear gummy bear. One. And I was so tickled over it. I remember this like I was out of body. I was awed and when 'presented tray' reached my selection domain, I reverted into my five year old self, when I had glistening eyes and held my smile until I couldn't anymore and then I said "I'll have this one!" As if I were choosing a Faberge' egg. My out of body self thought I was lame.

The party - best ever.

Exploring what was set up poolside at Lido. 

It was eye catching. Beautiful food.

Draping wind chime lights

Look at that magic coming from the Aquarius neck bling. 

So serious. Hah!

Peace.
(It's still a good idea, right.)

We've been friends for 40 years now! 

Nobody sits. I love it. 

I quickly brushed that off and grew up on the dance floor. No five year old self could be identified in my groovin' moves. "It's Raining Men" had never seemed as fantastic as it did on this night. I couldn't contain myself. (p.s. I didn't realize this song was only written in the 70s. It was released 82.) On one occasion someone made their way as if they were passing me, they tapped my shoulder like 'excuse me' and then paused like a still shot right behind me, closer than preferred because I prefer distance in general. I'm very American like that. When it comes to cultural differences one of the most obvious to me is regarding space. I grew up in lots of s   p   a   c   e. The personal space invasion isn't an invasion here. They don't take it personally. So, this random poser comes and freeze frames behind me and I get confirmation that this is peculiar from Laura who is seeing this straight ahead. Not that this matters. I just thought it was weird and remember it as well as I remember all the twirling fire daggers.

Fire dancers.

Laura being fab.

Boogie

Can you tell these girls are fun? Why not limbo under the glowing stilt girl?!

Inside Scaramanga night club, the era continued. A balloon pit entrance and record disc decor surrounded a packed dance floor and entertainment included another dj, a performed ceremonial set of dances in the midst of a techno beat, amongst others. Lights flashed and the disco ball twirled, shifting the light to make our dancing seem sexier than it was actually. Let's face it, no one's refusing help at this point in the night.
I thought back to the beginning of the evening, at dinner. The Londoner complimented our decision to move here, to this place he recognized as unique and with such an ideal location, centrally located for snappy travel. "Where else in Europe can you have this?" he asked. I wondered if this question became more and more pronounced in his thoughts. Because the night unfolded more and more of 'this'.  I appreciated his statement, that he thought our decision was wise. It wasn't necessary to say. And London, like New York, produces people so proud of their city that they view these places as the only worthy place in the world to have a life. He could see it and feel it though. And kindly, he acknowledged it. The hostess, the CEO / guest of honor's wife, has a little something to do with this. I'll follow suit and not hesitate at throwing acknowledgement toward where it belongs. To arrange a party like this takes so many detailed hours anywhere in the world. This type of party could make plenty of places exciting. But, he meant more than that, beyond our rooftop group. I knew what he meant because I could feel it too.
Week 3, I was reaching, still. As hoped for, I reached home to show my love and I reached backward to move forward into here, this place to embrace in the now. Dancing hard in a dress with a 70s plunging neckline, it's sort of like moving here. It's cutting loose. Doing it and not just trying it out because there's really no in between if you want to feel it like it should be felt. It's the brightest of red nail polishes and daring dresses and bold eyes. Life does have themes and although I don't want to be stuck in a category, I do want to think back on all these days and get the same sort of thrill out of a retrospect.

Pia, this party's coordinator aka the gift giver. Thank you, Pia!!

Even though she's expecting, she was a dancing queen.  

Get down!

Disco Decor
This is looking down at the cocktail table.

Celebrate!
The day of the party, August 23rd. The year of the theme, 1974:
My sister's birthday and birth year. One of my life's BIGGEST ever gifts! It's her birthday, but I got the lifetime gift!
My parent's anniversary. Reason why I have the BIGGEST gift ever!
My late grandmother's birthday. Without which I couldn't have my mom, the 1 of 2 possibly BIGGER than BIGGEST gifts ever! (The other being my dad.) Which led to a marriage and then to my sister.
So, this party may as well have been for me!! Because I can celebrate August 23, 1974 like it's my birthday. (omg, it just came too easy. forgive me.)

               

View from the window - The drive through Croatia.

(This was back on Monday, August 4th) 

Here's a peek through the window. This is the view as we made our way from Austria to Montenegro. I won't claim to have captured it. There's only so much a sleepy head can do working with a window pane and speed. 

I fell asleep for about an hour. I couldn't keep my head up.

When I did wake, and was able to manage using my neck, Nick introduced me
to Eastern Europe with full blast techno. I think this caused my brain to stall.

The car had a dvd player and dvd music videos.

Guess what was included as a cruel prank- What Does The Fox Say?

It takes so long to get that song off replay in my head! I still hear it at times. 

It was a very green view for the first portion of the trip.

It becomes a rocky view suddenly. It's like a set change minus the velvet curtain. 

Pleasant roads to travel. 

That's such a fantastic mountain. I feel as if it will jump like a frog. 

That is nearly a frog's symmetry and those lower humps are very similar 

to hind legs. I animate practically everything. 

This photo was taken from fast motion. Super proud that it turned out. 

These roadside produce stands were so refreshing to my eyes. 

There were many of them. They perched among cliffs 

and banked by rivers. Vibrant!

Enter: Water! Another beautiful contrast. 

Croatia's coast.

Maybe you can see some topography here. 

In actuality, the earth bends a curves and plunges into the sea 

and then peaks above into islands like the humpback of a whale. 

There is a lot of motion and dimension in the space.

(around the same spot as the one above)

Looks fertile. 

Many, many islands along Croatia's coast. 

Life along the water's edge.

Bosnia's smaller strip of coast. 

I was happy to be viewing and not driving.

Hopscotch islands for days....

From the car seat of Beth and China! xo!

Week 2: Porto Montenegro & Budva

The Venetian Carnival, last Saturday, seems like so long ago. Before I was here a week, it felt like a month. It may have to do with the amount of people I met right away and see so frequently, the immediately established routines, and the nightly activities. I haven't gone out and been this social in a while. There is a huge part of me that is content to be home, to be simple. I intertwine myself into spaces. My home space is spiritual space. Here, I go out because it is so intriguing and the exploration is spiritual. I'm interested. But, I am so lucky because I don't have to drum up activities or climb walls to become integrated in my new place. Invitations come. My second day here, I was handed a weekly agenda and an invitation to the special events of that week. This is standard practice in destination property of this scale. But, they actually do it. And, having been the person that writes the protocol booklet for similar greetings, I know what it is intended to feel like. When I unexpectedly received such a greeting myself, I know that gesture's thoughtfulness is communicated. I felt like, "ah ha! It does work. I feel so special and included!" And I liked this place before I even went to one event. 

A photographer from the event took this shot and it was sent to Nick.  

The event! Jetty 1, shining like a Venetian beacon! 

The events are cultured, full of artistic expression. The classical invites the modern. Mixology is a word that I was struck with in Zagreb and it is prevalent with experiences and people I continue to meet. For instance, The Duke Art Challenge featured an established graffiti artist, the Prince of Montenegro, and exuberant sangria cocktails with a spread of local cheese and fruit. We were on fine gravel in a rock garden surrounding the cherished olive tree, while Russian sage, rosemary, and lavender surrounded us. The Regent Hotel was lit in the settling dusk and its symmetry and regal stature was encased by rotund mountains dwarfing everything but the sky. A mix that worked. 

No Amontillado for me.

The Venetian Carnival was masked and the theme, ancient. The masks, modern, with clashing patterns and textures to frame our eyes and expose our mouths. The jetty was draped in red light that bounced from the large crane which seems to mimic the Eiffel Tower for my Paris craved eyes. The band was sultry with jazz, but they covered songs like early Madonna. The waiters presented hors d'oeuvres and cocktails in all black and feature masked men walked around to set the tone for the night. At one point, the red carpet which ran down the center was suddenly pounced on by dancers performing a lyrical expression piece that seemed abstract and bizarre and remarkably appropriate. Guests wore all white to give the event a festive up beat and summery vibe. These contrasting elements collided and excited smiles countered fancy eyes on every face I saw. The unpredictability is fun for every single age and cultural background. I will confess that part of this for me was the strike of fear in my tummy when I first walked to the entrance and saw the cloaked, masked man. "Amontillado?"  "Amontillado!" echoed through my head and that damn Poe reached me from a fifth grade classroom! The horror of the walk to the depths of a cavern to be shackled and sealed in an unknown enemy's catacomb. Aaaah! I could practically hear the drunken laughter and feel the frantic realization. The Cask of Amontillado. If someone had tapped my shoulder at that exact moment when I was revisiting this story, I probably would've kicked a sucker down to the ground. I would've reacted involuntarily. 

This is not his face. It's a mask.

Nick's blue and gold mask was beautiful. I liked the mask chosen for me too. I kept it and think I will add design to it, hoping for another chance to wear it.

This was a surprise performance. A ballet company bolted onto the runway and told a story. It seemed like a story of conflict, like fire facing elemental demise, and eventually, a triumphant rise. This is the end, shown. 

A portion of the party. 

A Pool Party was the next day, a hot day. The sun befuddles me here. I feel it and my skin feels the heat, but I don't feel a burn and my skin barely reacts to time spent in direct sunlight. In Georgia, the sun can hit my skin for minutes and I can almost hear it sizzling. I have adaptable skin that tans, but still, if given too much it will burn and is dangerous and people can drop dead, no joke, from heat exhaustion and it doesn't necessarily take long to reach the point of too late. In my hometown neighborhood, as kids, we would use a magnifying glass or mirror to burn holes in our canvas shoes for fun and sometimes fry an egg on the pavement just to show ourselves how hot it was that day. It never bothered us though. It was hot as blazes and humid like a sauna and the gnats would stick to our skin and get in our eyes, but we never went inside. Here, the day can be hot and it can be relatively humid, but my body just bounces it right back into the air or something. The sun feels friendly. Very cozy and bright, but it's peaceful. Maybe the pure air is the difference. Maybe radiating chemicals being absent allows me to feel the love from the sun energy. I don't know... just plopping down thought trails at this point. Anyway, the pool party was well attended. The large pool had families and couples and the dj played mild disco tech that could go two ways. One, nice background beat to play or have great conversation. Two, in my case, lay out on the pool ledge and be hummed to sleep just like a clothes dryer would do, or the noise a blimp makes during a televised golf tournament. It was relaxing and I'm not sure it was supposed to be. The pool is architectural and a giant modern sculpture is silhouetted against the horizon. The cabanas are breezy and they allow a nook of shade from the bright day.         

Lido Mar pool event.

Pool side. It was a brilliant sunny day.

It was family day!

Infinity pool, Boka Bay, yachts, Montenegro mountains, clouds, clear skies and sunshine- Divine.

Nick keeping cool in the pool.

From the water. We took a quick zip out on a boat with friends.

Here they are! They are newly engaged. They are so at home in the water and barely make splashes.
Nick and I think they're mermaids. ;)

There was a live band Thursday night that (I think) came in from Belgrade. They could cover everything and well! The only thing the lead singer couldn't hit was one of Adam Levine's high notes. They were exceptional, in my opinion. We all danced, danced and when I sat for a moment and looked over the water I saw a shooting star that felt like a wink from a guardian above. If I had to count the times I shout mentally to the sky, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I would never reach the number. It is probably the most infinite thing I do. I concentrate all the love I feel for the gifts, and the happiness I feel to be alive, and I throw it up in the sky with a big beam of my love light. Sometimes, and I tell you this because you're in the game, I concentrate those feelings into an imaginary beach ball and I sprinkle well wishes and hope around it and I open the door and I say a wish or prayer for anybody that wants it and I, with gusto, virtually volley the ball up and out. It is to be bounced around, up and over, just a big giving game. It's good stuff. Very healthy.  

Dinner at Porto Montenegro. Love it here!

So, as well as the weekend events, the following week was filled to the brim with mixology. Two nights were spent in Budva, the party center for the area. One of the largest disco techs in the world is there. It is an enormous arena club called Top Hill and we were lucky enough to get the presidential table, thanks to a friend's kind gesture. We were in a center, open box of sorts and had service of appetizers and beverages. Moet champagne came around at whim and other goodies like Ferrero Rocher and cheese and beverage of choice were just there. The crowd was lively and the open air club showcased a serene looking moon against a black sky. Meanwhile a laser beam light show was taking place and girls, suspended in air by cording, floated above the crowd waving their arms and twirling like fallen angels unable to land, unable to fly. The thump carried us until we got home around 4 am. I was told to expect 5 and a sunrise at the club, so I thought it was an early bedtime. It's very unusual for me, but worth it. This is a seasonal establishment and next week it will close. I think that's probably wise. It's like strawberries. It makes sense to have a season and look forward to it and not make a contrived effort to have the sweetness all year and compromise the flavor. Makes sense to me.

Budva, night 1.

Our group, headed to dinner.

Pi. I almost lost my group because I can not resist such gems as random stone Pi statues in courtyards.
I must, at least, take a picture, if I can't stare at it a while.  

Our very fun group of friends in Budva, Montenegro.
Behind me is my new friend, the lovely, Italian, Isabel.

In Budva there is an old town area that has 5 or 6 bars set up in one plaza, that share music but attend customers separately. We went to one that is owned by the brother of our new friend. We couldn't have asked for a better time. This preluded the Top Hill action and in itself was a stellar time.        

Budva, night 2.

Our friends took us out and it was perfect. 

Top Hill Disco tech

Photo Booth 

Lights

Our wonderful and hospitable friends, Ivan and Mascha.

Another friend in our group, (who is actually a legitimate Olympian and professional water polo player!) took us out of the box and on a walking tour of the floor, all the way to the stage where the djs go at it.  

We're feeling the thump. SO LOUD!!

When on the floor, confetti was dropped on the crowd and this is what my beverage looked like afterward.  
Metallic everything for a couple minutes. 

Acrobats among us.

One of the 'fallen angels'.

More lights. Very artistic, the constant changes of colors and angles of rays. 

They do these stairs to the ladies' room with about 10 inch platform heels on! No joke.

Tell me you don't see that gigantic ghostly purple face!!!

4 AM! We still got it!! UGA training!

Last night, The Duke event: intense classical art met modern rendition. A beautiful, sparkly Russian American classical pianist named Lola Astanova makes entrance to the stage. The stage is at Porto Montenegro, set directly in front of an old gigantic submarine that was apparently part of this development when it was an old Yugoslav naval base. (I love this transformation from negative to positive!) A grande piano is alone on the stage and as this long legged, long haired woman takes her place beside this instrument she turns to the crowd and speaks to us candidly. It is already different than a typical concert. Her dress looks like a costume for figure skating and her shoes are equally sparkle encrusted louboutin stilettos. She proceeds to sit and rock the grande more forte than piano. I wish I could share her performance with you but I felt it would be inappropriate to video or take photograph. There were some around me (no one I recognized) that felt otherwise and it was, indeed, distracting. She deserved full attention. Her skill was full flamed and heart felt, so eccentric and unique. She hails from Palm Beach and no kidding, she's charming, endearing and so pretty. She was the most flamboyant pianist I've ever seen or heard.

Side note:
Between us, in my home town, our high school choral department put on fantastic performances. If anyone in the crowd had continuosly spoken like a few in this audience, our director would've stopped, turned to the one who is speaking and we would've all waited to hear what they thought was so important that they would disrespect the performance and the ability for others to enjoy it. It happened. Never twice. But, I'm so glad this was a demanded behavior because as elegantly as you may dress or as educated as you may be, if you can not show proper appreciation of something precious being displayed, then it goes wasted, and you end up being the annoyance behind someone's right ear. 

After the concert, we fled to the Japanese restaurant near our building, Tara. I like the prawn noodle bowl with cabbage and red peppers and oyster sauce. Eating at midnight... yep, not in Atlanta. The restaurants, cafe's and shopping are convenient, no more than a five minute walk away to any of them. The village establishments are open late and early in the summer. I like this a lot so far.