Slovenia is a small country, so it was only a 1 hour bus ride from Ljubljana to Bled, but don't let that fool you. The Julian Alps, as they're known, were a world away from the capital city. Sprawling lakes, zigzagging gorges, and towering mountains framed the scene of this next act.

I stayed at the creatively named Bled Hostel. There were many things I liked about it. Great location just down the street from the bus stop, feet away from a grocery store, decent kitchen, friendly staff, free laundry machines, a terrace and large common area. There were also some downsides. It was mysteriously divided into the Bled Hostel #1 and #2, adjacent but with separate entrances and apparently different quality of life. It created a slightly weird dynamic, with people sneaking from one to the other in search of better common areas or kitchens. The staff also closed the common area overnight, meaning that lively conversations moved into the hallway at 10pm, and my breakfast was behind lock and key until 8am. I didn't like being on the upper bunk, as it had gaps all around the edges and a flimsy rail. Any belongings I brought up could be easily fall over the edge, my body included. Despite all this, I extended my stay from 2 nights to 3 nights. In part because I didn't end up spending any nights deeper in the mountains, more on that later.

The first night, I stayed close to the hostel and cooked pasta Bolognese. It was the first real meal I'd cooked myself in weeks, and though it could have used some garlic, it hit the spot. I enjoyed the pay-it-forward environment of the communal hostel kitchen. I used free pasta that was left behind in the "up for grabs" section; when I cooked too much meat, I donated to the poor souls surviving on plain pasta.

After surviving the first night in the bunk, I took advantage of the free washing machine and left my clothes to dry on the terrace. A neatly organized sock abacus. Then I started walking out of town, past green pastures towards the entrance to the Vintgar Gorge. Seeing pictures of the gorge was one reason I had chosen Slovenia, so I was pretty excited. The online tickets are only valid for 20 minute intervals, so at the advice of the hostel, I arrived at the gate prior to buying my ticket online. (Don't take this approach during peak season.)

Vintgar Gorge was wide enough to accommodate a manmade walkway that served as a one-way trail. Though there were plenty of visitors, it never felt crowded. The blue water was a striking color contrast against the dark rock walls and the orange leaves that coated the pathway, and at times, the water itself. It was also amazingly clear, offering visibility to a few fish and submerged tree trunks, which reminded me of Croatia. The walkways were a fun format, and crossed the river a few times, offering different views. The path went under a stone bridge and past a waterfall before reaching the exit turnstile. It wasn't a very long hike, but still enjoyable. The return walk was a different route that went through the woods and past a historic church.

After being in Bled for a day, I finally went to see the lake. It was a pleasant scene with rowboats, covered ferries, swimmers, and the occasional crew team. The Bled Castle was perched on the steep hill near the town, while the iconic island was visible in the distance. I started the perimeter walk, but was distracted by a Lego exhibition. It featured many builds, including some official sets, but I was most interested in the original builds of Slovenian landmarks. I especially liked the model of St. Michael's church, designed by the Slovenian architect Plecnik that I learned about in Ljubljana.

Continuing the walk, each bend revealed new perspectives of the lake that merited a photo. A hundred photos later, I arrived at the trailhead for the hike to the viewpoints. I figured this would involve a modest amount of climbing to an accessible little hill, given the views' popularity. Boy was I wrong! It was essentially scaling a small mountain. Some parts were so steep and rocky that there were cables for grips. I arrived at the first viewpoint, Mala Osojnica, soaked in sweat. The island with the church was so picturesque from this view that it instantly made the climb worth it. Fun fact, it's the only natural island in all of Slovenia! (Try not to laugh, Greece and Croatia.) The hike to the second viewpoint, Ojstrica, wasn't too bad. I sat and enjoyed the late afternoon lighting for a good while, and debated staying for the sunset. But given that I was somewhat lost, I decided to continue the hike. It was a steep descent with slippery rocks, definitely a good trail for hiking poles and I saw many people using them. Thankfully the trail was indeed a loop, and returned me to the lakeside.

At the far side of the lake, I stopped to try the signature dessert of Bled - the kremsnica. A wobbly but cohesive cube of custard and cream, sandwiched between two squares of puff pastry. It was light and tasty, but I couldn't figure out the right technique for eating it. Every time I pushed my fork into the puff pastry on top, the custard threatened to ooze out sideways! Nonetheless, it was devoured quickly, and I might have scared the waiter in the process. While paying the check, he made a comment about it being a lot of calories for one person, and encouraged me to walk it off. I laughed and told him not to worry, as I was going all the way around the lake.

Later that night, I made a chicken salad and joined a movie watch party in the common area. But I had to plan for the day ahead, and peeled off to do some research from the heights of the bunk.

My day trip to Lake Bohinj was one of the most active days of the trip! Located within Triglav National Park, it was a 30 minute bus ride from Bled. I had debated spending a few nights closer to Bohinj, but the weather forecast indicated a big rainstorm soon, so I decided to see Bohinj as a day trip from Bled. This meant an earlier morning, and as I realized too late, it was before the kitchen (with all my food for the day) was unlocked. For breakfast I had a grocery store pastry and coffee on the front steps of the hostel, out in the cold. When the kitchen opened, I slapped together some PB&J's in a few minutes and ran to the station to catch my bus.

Lake Bohinj was larger and grander than Lake Bled. Bohinj was raw nature; it made Bled look like a movie set. The fog had lifted, and the morning light was gorgeous. In the distance, the three peaks of Triglav beckoned. (They say that every true Slovenian is supposed to hike to the summit of Triglav at least once in their life.)

My agenda for the day was completing two hikes that shared a trailhead. The first was a relatively flat hike along the Mostnica Gorge. The Mostnica Gorge is much narrower than the Vintgar Gorge, so rather than being inside the gorge, I was looking down on it. Beautiful blue water, and the gorge was surprisingly deep: at least 3 stories in some places, despite being a few yards across. Along the hike, I found the Elephant Rock, which totally looked like an elephant! In that section of the river, the lighter colored rock was eroded into concave pockets by the turbulent water. These wonderful bowl shapes looked like someone had carved them out with a giant melon scooper.

The hike continued into the green Voge Valley, traditionally used as autumnal grazing lands. Sure enough, there were cows! And the herd was definitely heard - each had a cowbell with a different pitch, creating a joyful cacophony as they flowed over the field. A few cows at the front bellowed, no doubt the conductors of this musical ensemble. I passed by a few small cabins, and arrived at the waterfall marking the end of the hike. As I sat below the falls eating my PB&J, I was reminded of Iceland.

Once back at the trailhead, I turned left and starting climbing towards the Vogar Viewpoint. The lighting was dramatic, with rays of sun bursting through the clouds and throwing sharp contrasts over the mountains and valleys. As I hiked up the mountain, many fit-looking hikers were going the opposite way, and I was greeted with at least 3 different Slovenian phrases, only one of which I recognized. It was steep! Nearly all the elevation gain happened in the first 1/3rd of the hike. As the clouds kept rolling in, I powered through, desperate to reach the viewpoint before any rain did. In one surreal moment, I passed a lone cabin that was blasting a Loretta Lynn song, making the little valley echo with lyrics about sunshine giving way to rain.

The view over Lake Bohinj was impressive. Unfortunately, the clouds had won the battle with the sun. I was the last person to make the ascent; there was only one other hiker still enjoying the view. As luck would have it, he was friendly and we struck up a conversation. Lulian was his name, a German nomad who traveled the world between seasonal jobs. He had even spent a few years in New Zealand overlapping the pandemic. We walked down the mountain together, and he showed me an even better viewpoint from a paraglider launch point. It was nice to have some company on the rocky descent. We returned to the small town, caught the same bus, and continued talking on the way to Bled, where I got off and he continued onwards.

My last night in Bled, I made an unusual chicken quesadilla with Dutch cheese and pickled roasted pepper in a crowded hostel kitchen. Several people I knew from the hostel in Ljubljana were now in Bled, and were also making dinner, so we ate together. But I was tired from the double hike and needed to book lodging for Vienna, so I went onto the terrace, until it also got crowded. I retreated to the bunk to look at transportation options, but the hostel's sociability left no place for an exhausted introvert to hide and plan. My roommates, a cheerful Argentinian lady and a friendly Turkish guy, both kept on trying to talk to me, and I stayed up late trying to solve my travel puzzle while fielding their questions.

The rain arrived, bringing drastically colder temperatures. The inflection point between summer and winter. I was extremely lucky the good weather had lasted this late into shoulder season. It was a good travel day, especially after hiking a total of 25 miles in past two days! I got drenched on the short walk from the hostel to the station, but quickly dried off on the ride to Ljubljana. I had a few hour layover, and nursed a few Slovenian beers at the station cafe. Fun fact, the Lasko brand's flagship beer "Zlatarog" is named for the legendary Goldhorn goat that was said to live in Triglav and guard a treasure in the mountains. Another fun coincidence was running into Lulian, my hiking buddy, and chatting for a few minutes before his bus.

My bus from Ljubljana to Vienna was delayed, both in its departure and again on the road, as someone forgot their passport and had to fill out an exception form. The passport control was surprisingly strict. The bus company went down the aisle checking everyone's passport on the Slovenian side, and at the border the Austrian police did the same again. I didn't recall anyone checking my passport when crossing from Croatia to Slovenia. After these hiccups, the journey continued with some pretty clouds at sunset, but most of the journey was in darkness.

I was fairly disoriented when I arrived in Vienna. I had enough layers to stay warm in the 40 degree cold, but my brain was fried. I stared at the subway map for a very long time before I even found the name of my stop. The info desk pointed me to the ticket machine, but didn't provide any other help. I got on a subway, only slightly confident it was the right one. I was skeptical about Google Map's suggestion that five different subway lines were all viable options, but it was actually correct and I made it to my apartment. At the front door, I typed the code incorrectly a dozen times before getting it right. It's safe to say I needed a proper break after an exhilarating time in Slovenia!

I only spent 5 nights in Slovenia, but each day was a treasure. Caves, dragons, gorges, lakes, and mountains galore! This country should definitely be high up on any nature lover's list. I hope to return someday and experience more of Triglav, including its elaborate network of huts for overnight hikes.

With my trusty Patagonia backpack, green shoulder bag, and drawstring bag in tow, I walked to the Plitvice bus station and caught the Flix Bus to Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. As we drove into the city, I was impressed by the amount of green space, especially along the river. The luggage storage service at the bus station was a tiny window in a grungy wall, easy to miss if it weren't for the conveyor belt in front. I watched as my two larger bags were swallowed up, freeing me for the afternoon.

I had planned a 5 hour bus layover to get a quick sample of Zagreb, and wasted no time in heading out. At first, I was on guard being in an unfamiliar city, and didn't really stop for photos even though the architecture was quite pretty. But once I reached the center of town and started seeing other tourists, it was easier to slow down and enjoy. The streets of the Lower Town were quite wide - very pedestrian and bike friendly. Blue streetcars glided through the main intersections, briefly obstructing the gorgeous Hapsburg facades. I continued walking into the Upper Town, where the streets became narrower and the buildings were smaller, cuter, and more colorful. Zagreb is placed on a hillside. It's steep enough to have a funicular, but not enough to break a sweat while walking.

For lunch, I went to a Sri Lankan street food restaurant that was highly rated. I ordered their signature dish, kotthu, a tower of shredded roti and chicken with a ladle of sauce on the side. It reminded me a mofongo, the dense plantain cake. The kotthu was heavy and had a disappointing lack of flavor. After washing it down with a Lion beer, the best part of the meal, I continued the walk.

One of the sights that peaked my interest in visiting Zagreb was the Museum of Broken Relationships. It featured a set of artifacts, each with a caption (often a short story) about a failed relationship or lost loved one. While the museum was much smaller than I expected, it was definitely worth the visit. The entrance had an interesting blurb about the premise, explaining that our cultures recognize rites of passage like funerals and graduations, but lack ways to recognize other kinds of emotionally significant endings. Some anecdotes were quite humorous, others tragic, all poignant. They also covered a huge range of tones. Some were bitter, frustrated, perplexed; others grateful, wistful, tongue-in-cheek, matter of fact. It was a unique lens into the human condition. Apparently the museum does temporary installations in other countries, and when they gather local submissions, they find echoes of the area's history, such as the effects of war. I wouldn't be surprised if the concept takes off in other places, it was very impactful and touching.

No particular destination in mind, I walked past some street art, a cathedral under renovation, a few parks, a shopping mall, and ended up stopping at a cafe by a pretty roundabout. They had an amazing lemonade, with fresh juice, elderflower syrup, and mint. I was dehydrated and had two. But alas, that was all the time I had to spare in Zagreb.

On the next bus, I dozed off for a few minutes. When I woke up, we were at a rest stop across the border, already in Slovenia. I processed this fact while the driver had a quick dinner and the other passengers smoked.

It was dark when we arrived in Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. I walked to the hostel, knowing it was in an area known for street art, but one pedestrian alley was really something. Large metal scaffolds like a grotesque play structure, a defaced Roman looking sculpture ironically placed amidst graffiti covered brick walls, including a giant image of a rat carrying a city on its back, and small groups walking along the dark periphery. After an uneasy minute, I turned the corner and found the Hostel Celica. The hostel used to be a prison, so the room layouts were a bit unconventional, but it was nicely decorated with a colorful exterior and cozy interior. I ducked out for a quick falafel plate. I returned to check out the hostel's Tuesday "jazz" night in the common area, but it was quite crowded and the show was more of a multimedia experience than a musical one, so I headed to bed instead. I had the top bunk near the apex of the roof, with a funky little wooden staircase up.

The next day, I took a train from Ljubljana to the small town of Divaca, the launching point for seeing the Skocjan Caves. The day started out cold and foggy, but it cleared up along the 1.5 hour ride, revealing green hills dotted with country houses. From the sleepy Divaca station, it was a 40 minute walk through town streets and quiet trails.

The trail reached a viewpoint, and as I approached the rail, my jaw dropped. Below was an enormous sinkhole (called a doline), going down hundreds of feet, with bridges and a river giving it a sense of scale. It was coated with trees, giving it a deceptive impression of continuity with the landscape, despite being an anomaly formed by two collapsed caves. An innocent church perched at the top seemed unaware of the abyss below.

Not far was the visitor center. I stopped there for a gourmet lunch: pork fillet with apple and gorgonzola. Dessert was a traditional Slovenian cake called gibanica, a layered tower of apple, cheese, and nuts. The tour itself began very unceremoniously, with a single shout of "1:00 tour, this way!" before a wordless 10 minute hike down to the cave entrance. But once we entered the cave, our guide began to explain more.

The Skocjan Caves are around 6km long, with an underground river running through several passages. There is a narrow part called the siphon that marks the end of the caves, but the river itself continues for a total of 34km, reappearing in Italy. Our tour route covered about 2km, which is a quite a distance to comfortably walk underground! Surprisingly, photos weren't allowed. At first I thought it was to protect the cave animals, but later found out it was for our own safety, as there were lots of trip hazards and slippery spots. It gave me time to appreciate and absorb the experience. Here's my attempt at conveying it.

The first phase of the tour went through the Silent Caves, named for their lack of a river (though historically this was the river's exit, before it changed course). The edges were covered with hundreds of waxy looking stalactites and stalagmites, like the ceiling was melting at an infinite number of discrete points. One cavern lacked these "dripping" features, and the guide explained the roof had collapsed recently, in the geological sense, creating a blank slate. The next cavern was unfathomably large, and the second jaw dropping moment of the day. Thousands of black stalactites, full of iron or manganese, boldly contrasted with the lighter limestone backdrop. It was so enormous and awe inspiring, my eyes watered. Few places in the world have made such an impression. In the center was a gargantuan single stalagmite, about the size of a two story townhouse, but still dwarfed by the ceiling above. Continuing on, we passed a formation that looked like an organ, and apparently sounds like one too because stalactites are hollow. Nearby was another formation where the stalactite and stalagmite were a centimeter from touching, but would take another hundred years to finally meet!

The tour continued into the Whispering Cave. As we stood at the entrance we could hear the sounds of the river in the distance. The guide explained that during heavy rains, the siphon can be blocked, causing the caves to rapidly fill, and pointed out the max level it had reached - right where we were standing. Later on the walk, this would seem impossibly high, like filling a sports stadium up to the nosebleeds. In a dramatic flourish, the guide powered up the lights inside the Whispering Cave, and a band of light appeared on the opposite wall, revealing the path ahead like a Harry Potter movie. But as we entered, it was another fantasy series that came to mind: Lord of the Rings. It felt like being inside the Mines of Moria. The river had carved a deep canyon, so deep it was difficult to see below. Spanning the canyon was a narrow bridge, evoking the bridge of Khazad Dum. I never expected to experience a fear of heights while underground - I was expecting claustrophobia! Abandoned rock staircases and bridges from obsolete tour routes haunted the corners of the caves, further channeling the Mines of Moria energy. At one point, the guide offered to turn off the lights so we could experience the cave similar to the original explorers. As we stood in utter blackness, my main thought was fascination and horror at the fact the guide's phone could even control the lights (what if she dropped it?) We continued walking in the opposite direction of the river's flow, gradually getting close enough to see the banks and the piles of lumber that naturally get carried inside. Finally, we emerged into the daylight of the sinkhole that I had seen earlier from above.

The tour ended, and the various groups went forward at different paces. I went slower, savoring the main sinkhole, crossing underneath the land bridge for views of the other sinkhole, and finishing the steep hike back to the visitor center. Trying not to sweat all over the gift shop, I bought a few postcards showing the interior of the cave, and started the walk back to the train station.

The other Slovenians on the train seemed very friendly with one another, and I wish I understood what was happening. At one point, a can of beer was passed from one group to another and opened; some snacks were traded in return. Back in Ljubljana, I had some greasy burek for dinner, and hung out in the hostel's common area. I was gradually joined by other travelers, first some Australians, then some French guys, a few Brits and Americans too. Everyone was on a different journey. Some like me had quit jobs (including a nurse and a cook), others were scouting potential places for a future move, and one guy was "funemployed" (recently laid off and living on severance). Everyone was in good spirits and it was a really nice evening.

At breakfast, I ran into some of the same folks. Luik from France, Andy from Australia, and a new addition, Mar from the US. We spent the morning hanging out in Ljubljana, first on a self guided walk along the river, and then on a free walking tour with a guide, Peter. Downtown Ljubljana was extremely charming. The architecture was a highlight, mix of Baroque style from before the 1895 earthquake and Hapsburg style from the rebuild. Slovenia is proud of its prominent architect named Plecnik, who designed the iconic Triple Bridge in the heart of town, among many buildings throughout the region. I also liked the dragon motifs throughout the city, including a Dragon Bridge with four fierce green dragons on the corners. The origin of the symbol is its association with St. George, the patron saint of Ljubljana. A green dragon appears on the city's flag, standing above a castle on a hill. Nowadays, the dragon symbols are everywhere! On garbage trucks, on beer logos (including the hilariously named "Loo-Blah-Nah" Brewing Co), and of course, plushie dragons on every street corner.

After the tour, I had lunch with my hostel friends at a traditional restaurant. I tried a heart barley soup with klobasa (sausage), and some of the sweet rolls that the others ordered but didn't like. We also sought out gelato, and walked alongside the river. I didn't have time to linger and see the castle, but it was still a wonderful spontaneous morning. Ljubljana hadn't been on my radar as a destination itself, but turned out to be a hidden gem.

Heading north from Split by bus, the scenery and temperature started to change. I said goodbye to the coast, and welcomed the mountains. The green palette was joined by subtle yellows and oranges. I hopped off the bus in the little town of Mukinje, just before reaching Plitvice Lakes National Park. I was staying at Guest House Wolf, one of many lodges in the cluster. After greeting the host and dropping off my luggage, I headed towards the park on foot. It was a Sunday, and the one grocery store in Mukinje (the adorable little "Robni Centar") was going to be closed in the afternoon, so I picked up a portable lunch and some breakfast goods.

It was a 30 minute walk along a quiet trail to the closest park entrance, dubbed Entrance #2. Here, the typical energy of a national park parking lot was on display, with lots of families, buses, and large groups. I approached the ticket booth with a 2-day pass in mind, but saw a sign that tickets were already sold out for the day! I quickly went online to secure a ticket for the next day, with no issue - less competition for a Monday morning ticket. But then, the question of what to do with Sunday afternoon?

I doubled back to a signboard advertising an educational nature trail. It looked like a few hours of hiking, with multiple places to turn around if I changed my mind. I gave it a try, and ended up doing the whole triangular loop! It was extremely uncrowded - I passed a whopping 4 people over 3 hours. The number of fresh spiderwebs that I broke through was an indication of this low traffic. A few sparse signboards explained the geology of the area: a mix of dolomite and limestone, which formed sinkholes when the limestone dissolved. There were few animals, but an amazing assortment of mushrooms. Clusters of perfectly rounded button mushrooms; fantastic wedge-shaped mushrooms, evenly spaced along the height of a tree like handholds on a rock climbing wall; enormous toadstool mushrooms straight out of a fairy tale. The fungi ended up being better than the hike's views, which barely snagged a glimpse of the famous lakes despite the decently high elevation. The descent returned through the same beech forest, with not a soul around.

It ended up being over 9 miles of hiking, so I stopped for carbo loading at the pizzeria in Mukinje. And I mean THE pizzeria. It's such a small town, the road signs have room to include directions to this pizzeria, not that you can miss it. For 10 euro, I got a medium sized pizza and a large beer to go, a great deal after being in more expensive parts of Croatia. After the natural hike, I was inspired to order the "funghi" pizza! The guest house had a nice backyard with picnic tables, so I dined al fresco and watched the local cats go slinking around the edges of the yard.

It was finally time for the big day at Plitvice Lakes! I started my hike from the guest house to the park entrance around 7:30am, everything quiet except for a few leafblowers - a harbinger of fall. Entrance #2 was in the "middle" of the park, right by the large Lake Kozjak. I started walking along the shore towards the Lower Lakes, as I hoped to see the main waterfalls before it got more crowded. The morning was so serene. The still water was gently shaken awake by the ripples of the first ferry crossing, while little birds and giant herons made their morning rounds against a backdrop of fall colors.

The Lower Lakes loop followed the river downstream. Between each lake, a waterfall flowed over a tufa barrier, a limestone dam that formed through gradual mineral deposits. The trail turned into a wooden boardwalk and started to cross the lakes instead of hugging the edges. This provided a front row seat the the waterfalls and fish floating in the clear water below. The boardwalk didn't have any rails, and it was just wide enough for two people. So when there was traffic (and rubbernecking) in both directions, one had to be mindful to avoid collisions! At the bottom of the Lower Lakes circuit was an impressive set of waterfalls, including Veliki Slap (the "Great Falls"). These were tall, parting into thinner strands against a beautiful orange cliff face. A second set of falls extended below, but were hard to see from above. From this photo corner, I spotted a viewing platform up above, and hiked against the flow of traffic to reach it. (It was a two way trail, but most visitors were coming downhill from Entrance #1.) The views from the top of the cliff looking down on the Lower Lakes were some of the most spectacular in the park! Especially having just walked at the lake level, the panoramas from above were far more sweeping. Both the upper and lower parts of Veliki Slap were now visible, and more impressive together. I could also see the differences in elevation between the adjacent lakes. It reminded me of a natural Panama Canal, with tufa barriers instead of locks. The sun had risen a bit more, illuminating one side of the lake and turning it electric blue, while the other half remained dark and brooding in the shade.

After completing the Lower Circuit, I stopped for a picnic lunch and then started the Upper Circuit. Here, the lakes were a bit smaller yet each had a distinct character. In some cases, the tufa barriers had become so large that they started to grow downwards, creating a mossy curtain that channeled the waterfalls in a graceful arc. According to a signboard, the curtains can eventually meet the ground and form tufa caves! But the barriers can also collapse and cause the water to reroute, drying up the neighboring lakes. As I hiked uphill, the tour groups thinned out, but my energy also started to fade. I rested at the visitor center at the top, near Lake Proscansko.

The descent went quicker than expected, and after a brief ferry ride across Lake Kozjak, I was back at the start. Including the distance to Mukinje, it was a 15 mile day! I rested at the guest house, and at dusk, emerged to hunt down another pizza. Maybe it was the cold morning or the long day, but my nose started running like crazy, so I took care of it while repacking my bags. Finally, I celebrated the day's success (and my last night in Croatia) with more Croatian brandy samplers, this time walnut and honey flavored.

The Plitvice Lakes were incredibly cool. It wasn't that any one lake or one waterfall was a particular standout (apart from Veliki Slap), but rather the joy was in the collective experience of hiking the circuit, soaking in the atmosphere, and seeing the unique interplay between the water and the land. The fall foliage and clear waters definitely amplified the sense of natural beauty. Even if I still can't pronounce the name "Plitvice" correctly, it's a place I will always remember fondly.

Grumbling about my decision to book a 6:00am ferry, I left the keys in the attic door to check out and hobbled down the steep stairs of my Korcula apartment. Of course, when I reached the bottom the front door could only be opened from the inside with a key. (Why is this so common in Europe? Major fire hazard) So I had to hobble back up to the attic again, keeping my weight on the ball of my foot to avoid the painful area near my heel. Thankfully the dock was only a few minutes away, and the boat had already arrived. I attempted to sleep, and was mildly successful until the crying babies and people playing videos on their phones all boarded in Hvar.

Split was still waking up too. I walked 20 minutes from the dock, through the quiet main promenade, and to the Hostel Dvor. It was a nice hostel, about $40 a night, and one of the best places I stayed on the trip. Clean bathrooms, free breakfast, a nice common area and patio, a desktop computer, only 3 beds in my room. Amazingly, my room was ready, so I got to unpack and take a shower right away. It brightened my spirit after the morning journey.

Also there to greet me was my Cupertino friend Mark, a digital nomad who had been traveling south from Germany. Originally I was hoping we could overlap in several cities, but in the end, we converged only in Split. It was nice to see a familiar face and have a travel companion, even if we only had 1.5 days together. Mark was traveling even lighter than me, with a single large backpack. Throughout the day, I witnessed this expert traveler and intrepid navigator in action. Casual but inquisitive, he would ask interesting questions to guides and vendors we met (the mysterious barrel was full of sauerkraut). When he was in his hiking stride, I struggled to keep up with my irregular walking, but it was nice to be along for the ride for a change. Over meals, we caught up on our respective travels, reflecting on life at home and life on the road. He seemed like a natural rolling stone, enjoying the journey without tiring or gathering any moss.

We started with a walking tour of the city, given by our guide Tomislav - apparently a common name in Croatia, as this was the name of their first king. He was very knowledgeable about the city's history, and delivered 2 hours of content with entertaining jokes. Though his humor was deadpan, we could tell he was relishing the delivery. The core of the city was originally Diocletian's Palace, a Roman Emperor who abdicated and built a fortified retirement home. Later, refugees moved into the ruins of the city, keeping many elements but modifying others. In the Venetian era, a larger set of walls were constructed, adding a shell around the Old Town with its own character. Architecturally, it was fascinating to see these layers of history being written and re-written on top of each other. Streets that suddenly became narrow, arches eclipsing arches, each wall a quilt of different materials. It's sad to think that the high cost of housing (due to tourism demand) is threatening its key legacy of continuous habitation. But as Tomislav mused, perhaps it's just the city's next chapter of adaptation and repurposing.

For lunch, Mark and I checked out a casual seafood restaurant that was recommended on the tour. We got a ton of seafood for a good price, including calamari, anchovies, smelt, and prawns. But the amount of fried food was a bit overwhelming! We went back to the hostel so that Mark could work for a bit, which conveniently gave me some time for my own trip planning.

For dinner, we headed to a small Italian restaurant called Villa Spiza that caught my attention with its great reviews and handwritten menus. We were lucky to get a table inside, with line of sight to the open kitchen. The veggie pasta was insanely good. Probably the best single dish of the entire trip. A glass of Croatian red wine and a tiramisu with a fresh coffee flavor rounded out the experience.

The next morning, Mark checked out of Hostel Dvor and carried his colorful Cotopaxi backpack around the whole day. We visited a liquor tasting store to try "teranino," a Croatian spiced wine that's best described as "liquid Christmas." We meandered through Diocletian's Palace, encountering more charming alleyways and architectural Easter eggs. A delightful and sprawling fruit market kept us busy for an hour. We snacked on some green figs and plums, watching amateur fisherman by the harbor.

Later we took a ferry from Split to the tiny town of Trogir, another old city with a Venetian atmosphere. Unfortunately, Mark only had an hour to walk the perimeter before catching a bus to the nearby airport (part of the premise for choosing Trogir). I stayed another hour, entering the beautiful cathedral of St. Lawrence and viewing the city from its iconic tower. But due to the ferry schedule, I couldn't linger either.

Back in Split, I embarked on a quest for 7 items. I was successful in procuring tickets and groceries for my Krka day trip, extra cash from the ATM, more band aids, a bottle of teranino, and a filling "cevapcici" (regional dish with minced meat sticks served between two pieces of bread). I was not able to find a replacement drawstring bag, despite visiting several stores in several parts of town. As fate would have it, I found one the next day at a tiny souvenir shop in the tiny town of Skradin. Who would have guessed? Sometimes things work themselves out!

Krka National Park was my next destination. It was cheaper to go on an organized tour, even though it was theoretically possible to get there using public transportation. Furthermore, I benefitted from the shoulder season discount; the price I was charged was lower than advertised in the hostel. We met at the booking agency in the Old Town, then turned around and rapidly walked to a bus that ended up being close to my hostel (sorry foot). From there, we drove an hour to the port of Skradin. Along the way, I had a nice chat with an Asian-German woman sitting next to me. We had some down time in Skradin, so I snacked on figs and admired beautiful swans in the harbor. Finally, we boarded a boat and went upstream through a marsh-lined valley of green to reach the park.

The park is quite large, and we only visited the most famous set of waterfalls. At our own pace, we walked a loop trail that hugged the river banks, crossing it twice. The first crossing was a treacherous selfie corridor with scarce elbow room. I let the bolus of tourists disperse ahead of me. The waterfalls were impressive not in their height or majesty, but in their width, their gentle curvature, and the vibrant land plants and aquatic mosses framing them.

Along the trail was an exhibit about the local hydropower station, the second in the world to be built (just days after Niagara Falls). Fun fact, Nikola Tesla was born in Croatia, so he was also woven into the exhibit. But the wildlife was the real highlight of the hike. Enormous schools of fish loitered in the clear water, tantalizingly close, as if you could reach out and grab one. Dragonflies buzzed, and nonchalant herons poked around the falls. Sadly, pink wildflowers were trampled by disrespectful tourists going off the trail.

Our upbeat guide corraled the group back into the bus, and we stopped back in Skradin for a lunch break. I had some lukewarm charcuterie on the river beach - a slightly sad meal. Afterwards, part of group (myself included) went on a side trip for some wine tasting at Sladic Winery. The flight included four wines: a white Marastina, a rose, a red Plavina, and a dessert Prosec. The first and last were pretty good, but the middle two were bad. Our group made small talk but the overall dynamic was a bit muted. I'm still glad I went, as wine tasting in Croatia was an experience I wanted to try.

Back in Split, I tried to settle into a casual night, but my new roommate was an extremely chatty German. After multitasking through my essential packing, I capitulated to the conversation. We went down to the common area and I shared some teranino, later finishing the bottle to lighten my pack for the next adventure.

Island hopping is one of the best ways to experience Croatia, and I was lucky to visit two - Korcula and Mljet.

Korcula has an Old City but it's much smaller than Dubrovnik. I arrived by ferry, and the apartment owner, Filip, actually met me on the dock with a sign. He walked me through the main gate, past the cathedral, and to the apartment while pointing out a few key places. I was staying in the attic unit, with a very steep staircase (the kind with different rungs for each foot). I repeatedly hit my head on the angled ceilings. But overall it was a comfortable private room with a good location, so a huge step up from Dubrovnik.

On my self guided walking tour of Korcula, I scouted the perimeter, which had many restaurants with ocean views. I climbed the narrow steps up to the cathedral bell tower, which were surprisingly treacherous. On both the stairs and the viewing platform, there was really only enough room to go single file. Good thing it wasn't too crowded. The views spanned across the bay to the opposite island, and back towards mainland Korcula. Back on the ground, I left the Old Town and hiked up into the hills for a view of the city itself, including a made-for-Instagram spot with a giant "Korcula" sign that seemed a bit out of place. The neighborhood was lovely, with pedestrian staircases, colorful flowers, and cats that would leap onto the rooftops as I passed by, or swat a pomegranate hanging from a tree branch.

I was pretty hungry so I had a simple grocery store dinner of bread and cheese, and instead used my dinner budget to buy drinks at a nice restaurant right on the castle walls with sunset views. I tried a high end Croatian brandy called pelinkovac, which had a bitter wormwood and citrus flavor. I also tried a local white wine called Grk, which is grown on the island of Korcula. Both were excellent. After the sunset, I continued the tasting flight with grocery store brandy, including the classic "slivovica" (plum based brandy) and an herbal one called "travarica." There's an amazing variety of Croatian brandy flavors, and I barely scratched the surface!

Korcula was a great launching point for a day trip to Mljet National Park, which is on the west side of Mljet Island. After a few errands in town, like dropping off laundry, it was an easy 30 minute ferry ride. At the port of Pomena, I rented a bike for the day, and took off.

The biking route I had in mind was around the perimeter of Veliko Jezera ("Big Lake"). It's not technically a lake, as it has a narrow connection to the ocean; its salinity changes throughout the seasons. The water was a beautiful shade of blue that I nicknamed "Croatian Blue" since it's vibrant like nowhere else I've found. The route was well paved, apart from one connector trail that was gravely and required walking the bike. Once I was on the main circuit, it was super pleasant. Very little traffic (pedestrian or otherwise) and stunning views of the lake at every curve.

Included in the park fee was a ferry to a small island within Veliko Jezera, where a Benedictine monastery was built in the 1300s. An island within an island! It turned out to be a highlight of the day. Being in a historic church in such a beautiful remote place was magical. The humble interior was peaceful in the afternoon sunlight, and the chanting music in the background was a nice touch. Walking around the grounds, I saw numerous kinds of butterflies, schools of fish in the shallows, countless lizards, and of course, blue waters in every direction. It reminded me a bit of the monasteries of Meteora in Greece.

Continuing the biking tour, I crossed a bridge where the lake met the ocean, and looked for a secluded beach for a swimming session. I saw a trail from the road, locked my bike to a tree, and followed it through the brush to the shore. It was no resort beach, but it was mine! Unfortunately, the water turned out to be full of hazards. In my effort to avoid stepping on slippery mossy rocks and sea anemones, I must have stepped on a piece of coral or a limpet shell that punctured my foot. I didn't realize at first, and continued to swim a few laps. The water was salty and clear. I tracked a school of fish as they traversed the reef, and marveled at the eeriness of a spiky tree branch below in the depths, pointed upwards like a giant antler. When I clambered back onto land, I finally noticed the shell in my foot. It complicated the already treacherous walk back to my towel. A conveniently placed branch became my temporary walking stick.

The shell was shaped like a short straw, or miniature cookie cutter. It came out easily, but left a small hole that continued to bleed. I didn't have any First Aid supplies, and there was no one around. It was a bit scary for a moment. I feared it would get infected from the shell fragment or being exposed to the lake water. After a quick rinse with some bottled water, I waited for it to clot, put on my sock and shoe, and hobbled up the hill with the walking stick. Thankfully, the cut was towards the heel, so once I was on my bike, I could pedal without putting pressure on it. As I continued the loop, I managed to get a Band Aid from another group. And once I was back in the port of Pomena, a kind hotel receptionist lent me some disinfectant spray. A much needed beer was consumed.

Not feeling out of the woods until the cut was properly rinsed and bandaged, I arrived back in Korcula on a mission. Of course, the pharmacy was at the top of a hill! But they had an antibiotic ointment and bandages, so it was worth the trek. I picked up my laundry too, but accidentally left my handy drawstring bag behind. Oh well. Returning to the apartment, the steep stairs were a lot more intimidating with an injured foot! Nonetheless, I was glad for a chance to sit down, rinse, dry, and treat the cut.

I went out for a lovely dinner at a tiny restaurant a block away. The kind that doesn't have any indoor seating, so all the tables were improvised on the sidewalk, but tastefully so. With a candle, and some vines growing overhead. I was lucky to get a seat. Feeling a lack of veggies from all my charcuterie meals, a fresh salad was a welcome appetizer. For the main course, I chose the cuttlefish gnocchi. Homemade and delicious! The dark sauce had an elusive flavor, and when I asked about it, the waiter explained it was made with cuttlefish ink. Apparently the dish was a twist on the classic Croatian black risotto. It was a fitting end to an island-oriented day.

​The flight into Dubrovnik was an unexpected treat, as I had a window seat with a view overlooking the Old Town. From above, the grid of buildings looked neatly packed together, though a bit smaller than I imagined. It was a 30 minute bus ride from the Dubrovnik airport to the Ploce Gate. I was impressed with how smooth it went. Apparently the buses are synced to the incoming flight schedule, so if the flight is delayed, the bus will wait.

I spent 3 nights at Hostel Ana, just a block from the main square, so right in the heart of the Old City. This was definitely a case of prioritizing location over comfort. The common area was a single room, with all of the floor space occupied by a table and benches. The common area also doubled as the luggage storage room. Since I arrived in the late morning during the daily changeover, and the host was clearly stressed, I quickly tossed my bag in the pile and ducked out. When I returned for a proper checkin, I got to pick one of the 12 beds in the tiny room. It had 2 showers and 1 toilet, so getting up early was a clear advantage here.

The manager, Sasa (pronounced Sasha) was Ana's son and an ambiguous character. One the one hand, he played the part of our generous host, sharing his family's homemade rakija (liquor from grapes; same idea as the Cretan raki) and took pride in fostering the group's energy. He led the crew around town to a secret hideout and to a cheap bar - more on those later. But he would also disappear at inconvenient times when guests were trying to check in or out, and was a little too friendly towards some of the younger women. One morning we found him sleeping off a hangover in the common area. Hearing Sasa's stories brought a local perspective of growing up during the Homeland War, the dwindling number of full time residents, and the emptiness of the off season. These were good reminders that Dubrovnik is an actual city where people live their lives, despite the dominance of the tour groups. But Sasa wasn't exactly a sympathetic character.

I started by doing a self-guided walking tour of the city, searching for quiet corners away from the crowds. At first I thought the crowds were sticking to the main roads, like the main street called Placa. I found refuge at a quiet cafe in a cool alley, only for it to be swarmed by Australian tourists a few minutes later. Continuing the walk, I stepped through a tiny opening in the wall and found myself at a dazzling sunny outcrop with a bar and swimming access. I would later learn this was the famous Buza Bar ("Buza" meaning "hole in the wall"). I'm glad I experienced the magic of stumbling across it organically!

For lunch, I sat by the harbor and ate a sandwich. While I was there, a woman sat down nearby and tossed a fishing line into the water. I assumed she was a local because several cats approached her right away. She caught a fish, and without hesitation, slapped it down on the pavement, an apparent offering to the cats. It was a sizeable silver fish, and barely fit in the winning cat's mouth as it retreated into the shade. This all happened very quickly, and I almost couldn't believe my eyes! I stayed for a while longer in hopes of more entertainment. She caught one other fish, but the cats weren't as excited about it, staring as it flopped on the sidewalk for a minute.

In the evening, I watched the sunset from a viewpoint just outside the old city walls. I indulged in a nice Italian meal, and savored each bite of truffle cream sauce. As I drifted to sleep, pensive jazz music from the square drifted up to window, including a few songs I recognized as Satie's Gnossienes.

To beat the crowds, I arrived at the entrance to the walls right when they opened at 8am. The walls are mad expensive (35 Euros!) but at least I bought a city pass that got me into a few museums for the same price. I took my time walking the circuit, admiring the views out to the ocean and Lokram Island, as well as the views into the city and up into the mountains. I loved spotting little architectural details, like fixtures for aqueducts, rotating chimney outlets, and scrutinizing the roof tiles. Apparently you can tell which tiles are original based on the color; many buildings were damaged during the Homeland War and had their roofs replaced. Included in the walls ticket was entrance a standalone fort, St. Lawrence, with good views looking back into the Old City. It's amazing how well preserved the walls are, and they were definitely worthy of the hype.

Some of the museums I briefly visited included the Rector's Palace and ones related to Maritime, Archaeological, and Ethnographic history. I liked the artwork in the Rector's Palace. Many had references to St. Blaise, the patron saint of Dubrovnik, often pictured holding a mini model of the city. They also had the original copies of the bell ringers, statues of two men with hammers that served as clappers. Every hour the bells near Rector's Palace go off twice, a few minutes apart. The second round being a courtesy, in case you forgot to count the first time. So bells are a key part of the Dubrovnik soundscape! I also liked the Maritime Museum, which explained the trade routes and influence held by the Republic of Ragusa, which was the name of Dubrovnik during its golden age. The other museums were not noteworthy.

I was treated to a dose of music in the evening. A live brass and woodwind band played a whole concert in the main square, including covers of Metallica and Latin Pop. After a light dinner of beer and tiramisu, I went to a chamber music concert in a scrappy little chapel adjacent to a monastery. It was a classical guitar and flute duo, both great performers in their own right but I was especially impressed with their synchronization. They played some Renaissance and Baroque classics, and since it was a small theater, I could practically read along with the guitarist's sheet music!

Already happy with a full day, I had another unexpected chapter. Hanging out the common room, folks invited me out for drinks, and Sasa offered to show us a mysterious secret spot. Too intrigued to say no, I signed on. Under cover of darkness, we followed him through a restaurant, skirted around the edge of the harbor, and ducked into an underground dock. He explained this is where their families would come to bathe during the Homeland War siege. It was also a backdoor entrance to the fancy restaurant above, used by celebrities keeping a low profile, and was also a filming location for a scene in Game of Thrones (unclear which one, Sasa hadn't seen the show). It was pretty cool! Then we hung out a bar, playing a classic English game called "Pass the Pigs," which involved rolling two tiny pigs like dice, and hoping they landed on all fours. It was a good group - representing the UK, Argentina, and Germany.

For my last day in Dubrovnik, I took it easy, starting with a free walking tour to learn more history and to experience the city from the perspective of a cruise ship day tourist. If you can't beat em, join em. It was nice to be part of the traffic jam for once, instead of a frustrated outsider. Later I browsed souvenir shops, with particular attention to the clever Game of Thrones merchandise and displays, including some giant dragons with built-in smoke machines. After, I enjoyed a $5 burger in front of a million dollar view overlooking a rocky harbor with beautiful blue water, and explored the park adjacent. When it came time for sunset, I bought a grocery store dinner and sat on the beach, listening to some distant live music and the hum of drones flying above.

A few hostel friends from the previous night had left, and a few new faces had joined. Among the new recruits to our social club were two chatty girls from the UK and a quieter one from Australia. I dusted off a few card tricks, and we played some group games like spoons and mafia. Later we revisited Sasa's hideout, and returned to the same bar for more merriment.

Despite these great social times, I was definitely ready to leave the claustrophobic 12 person dorm. I spent the morning walking from the Old City to the port, located in the more modern part of town. I passed by many cafe-bars, and stopped in one for an espresso, though it was clearly not frequented by tourists (they did not appear to be listed on Google Maps). The stern looking lady reminded me of my Croatian middle school history teacher.

As you can tell, I had a lot of fantastic experiences in Dubrovnik, even if it meant dealing with crowds, overpriced... everything, and cramped living quarters. I will say it was nice to have 3 full days in one place, even if they were not the most relaxing days. It's a very unique place, with undeniable beauty. Just not for the faint of heart. I shudder to think about peak summer crowds.

The whole time I was exploring Athens and Crete at an adventurer's pace, I was secretly looking forward to my time in Paros, which I planned as a relaxing beach getaway. A 3-day "vacation-within-a-vacation." Though once I arrived, I had to fight my instinct to plan day trips around the island. Paros is small (especially compared to Crete) but there were still some interesting towns, beaches, and hikes that were outside of my immediate range. Seeing a bit of rain the forecast was a good nudge, reminding me not to be overly ambitious and to just enjoy!

The ferry from Heraklion to Parikia was a different experience than my overnight cruise. Paros was just one stop along the route. I had to go down to the cargo bay a few minutes before arriving. As the ship spun itself around and backed up to the pier, a blaring siren filled the air. The ramp slowly lowered, revealing the town. Then the tourists stormed onto the pier, charging into a sea of taxi drivers holding signs. It was quite the deployment!

I treated myself to a private apartment, after around 20 nights of sleeping in a hostel dorm. It was so nice! I could fill the fridge with breakfast goods, adjust the temperature to the perfect level, fall sleep without a cacophony of snoring, and wake up without the sound of crinkling bags. Though I definitely had the chance to decompress, the narrow roads were dangerous for pedestrians so I had to keep my guard up when walking around town.

My first evening, I started with a large meal at an ouzeria. Curiosity got the best of me, and I ordered the stingray salad despite my love of stingrays (other restaurants translated it as "skate" salad). It was a tender light meat, served with green onion, fennel, and parsley for a wonderful dish. I also had some stuffed grape leaves, grilled octopus, and my first ouzo of the trip. It reminded me of absinthe, due to the anise flavor and hazy color. But I don't usually like drinking absinthe with food, nor do I see absinthe on many menus, so the popularity of ouzo in Greece was a bit surprising to me. The meal ended with an impressive baklava and ice cream. The portion was enormous but I managed to find room for it.

From there I walked along the beach, stopping to pet cats and watch a fisherman cast his line into the sea. The horizon was obscured by the clouds but the sunset colors were pretty. As it got dark, I picked up some groceries and headed back. Since I like sampling local fruit, I bought some cactus fruit to try. It was disappointing - more seeds than actual fruit. Also, tiny cactus spines got stuck in my hand and were there for several days. 0/10 do not recommend.

The next morning I lounged at the beach, reading on my Kindle between trips into the water. The water was wonderful, shallow with smooth sand and gentle waves. Farther out it transitioned into clusters of seaweed, which I realized explained the different shades of blue when viewed from above. Small fish wandered around my ankles, and only a handful of people were also there. Later in the day, the sun broke through the clouds, and I ended up a little pink, though I suppose that's one hallmark of a successful beach day. The rest of the day, I retreated to the comfort of the AC, sampled a few Greek beers, and emerged only to watch the sunset and pick up a cheap souvlaki.

After a good night's sleep, I hiked up the mountain for views looking down at Parikia Bay, and even to the far side of the island. It was an overcast day, but I still broke a tremendous sweat going uphill. There was a monastery at the top, which was a nice place to sit and take in the scenery.

The town of Parikia was very charming. I spent the rest of the afternoon meandering through the pretty streets, with their white lattice of dark cobblestones and twisting paths. I had a no-frills lunch at a local hole in the wall cafeteria, with cheap but excellent eggplant casserole and roasted veggies. Later I stopped for coffee in front of a particularly beautiful alley with an arch of pink flowers. I worked up an appetite browsing through souvenir shops, and had some chocolate covered Greek donuts, a bit like fresh donut holes.

I followed the advice of a local sign board - "Sunset and cocktails, the best plan." I picked a table by the beach and ordered a glass of mastiha, a liqueur made with mastic "tears" which are a special kind of tree sap/resin only produced in the Greek islands. It had a foresty liquorice flavor, and I bought a small bottle at the grocery store to enjoy a few more tastes over the following days.

Alas, my beach vacation had come to an end. I waited on the pier and once again stormed up the ferry ramp with the horde of tourists. The ferry didn't linger, and had already left Paros before we filtered through the entry staircase and into the seating area. A few hours later it arrived at the port of Pireaus. I had decided to stay in a basic hotel in the port town, and walked over to check in. The lady at the front desk gave me bad info about the metro vs. the suburban train, so I went down to the suburban train station to clear it up and buy my ticket in advance. It was hard to find the right station on Google Maps, especially for such a basic route from the port to the airport, but I persevered. For my last dinner in Greece, I had a nice fillet of sea bass with spiralized veggies at a popular restaurant on an unassuming city block.

The last few logistics were a bit stressful. I wanted to catch the first train at 4:45am so I could arrive at the airport around 2 hours before my early morning flight. I wasn't sure if I would be able to get a taxi from the hotel that early, and dreaded walking through a deserted port town in the dark, but thankfully the hotel was able to arrange a taxi. The train required an unexpected transfer that caught me off guard, but I made it to the airport and caught my flight.

I'm so glad I got to spend 16 days in Greece. It has an amazing variety of sights, from the blue waters of Balos Bay and the green canyons of the Samaria Gorge, to the breathtaking cliffs of Meteora and architecture of the Acropolis. The food was also a highlight - I rarely repeated an order, and rarely did they fall short (looking at you, frappes). The Greeks have perfected their meats and seafood, but also their cheeses, pastries, and desserts. The Greek systems, like public transportation and historical site tickets, did not inspire confidence but with upfront research, I didn't have any snags. To sum it up, the country is a great destination for lovers of history, food, and nature!