Monstermoon Dispatch #2: High Speed Puppy Chase

by Carson

The scene: a drizzly, quiet day in the lakeside town of Virpazar, Montenegro. The town's handful of residents are milling about, seemingly unsure what to do with themselves now that the tourist season is over. Matt and I have a little time to explore before heading to the airport, so we wander into the tourist office, which happens to occupy the largest building in “town.”

In proper Evastiano fashion: 

Carson: we have only a short time in Virpazar and want to see things. Should we go by kayak or by bike?

Lady: how long do you have? One day? Two days?

Matt: we have one hour.

Lady: (laughs) ok... you better hurry!

Deciding the river looks a little murky, we grab some bikes and head up a winding road along the water that extends into Lake Skadar National Park. Soon we are cruising past old stone farmhouses and tiny vineyards that look like test plots compared to the vast expanses of grapes we're used to in Sonoma. Roadside stands, unattended in the off-season, display bottles of "wine," "honey," and something that could be oil, vinegar, or some type of Montenegrin love potion. 

At this point, only the addition of adorable puppies could make this place any cuter.

Suddenly, two bundles of fur tumble out of a bush along the road, eager to play. They pounce and wiggle and bow their noses to the pavement, darting in periodically for a soft lick. Matt assumes his usual dog-greeting position, scratching ears and tummies and offering a few “hey sweeeeties” while I attempt to capture the cuteness on camera. After a few minutes, we continue to ride, and the pups follow--determined to stick with their adoring new friends as long as possible.

The only problem: we're on a narrow road, between two towns, with occasional traffic that most certainly does *not* yield to cute puppies. Concerned, we let them follow us into the next town, hoping they'll return to the safety of their homes and live long, healthy puppy lives. 

Realizing we're almost halfway through our precious hour of exploration, we take a quick look around the “town”--which is really just a few vine-covered houses clustered around a stone memorial--and turn back up the hill towards Virpazar. We don’t see the puppies and agree it’s for the best--we couldn’t bear the thought of them being left out on the road again. As the drizzle turns to rain, we settle into the long, slow  climb separating us from our rental car. We note how good the moisture feels on our bodies, which are now heating up from the exertion.

We glance back. The puppies have spotted us, and are racing to catch up. 

“Gooooo!!!” Matt shouts. I know we have to bike faster than they can run, so they’ll stay close to home. Fighting our deeply seeded instincts to go towards adorable puppies and not away from them, we look straight ahead, lean over our handlebars, and start pedaling as fast as we can up the hill.

The puppies accelerate behind us, thrilled by the chase. 

We shift gears, put our heads down, and pedal harder. Matt is at least a full turn ahead of me, shouting back words of encouragement as if I was competing in a high-stakes triathlon (which is frankly what it feels like at this point). We round one turn after the next, each time hoping the puppies will lose sight of us and retreat to their warm, safe home. We stand up on our pedals for an extra boost. 

I sense my physical limit, gasping for air, and slow a bit. After a while I look back--no puppies!--relieved. After recovering from a wobbly pivot, I take a few deep breaths and pedal a few more times to be sure I've lost them. Then I look back again. 

There they are, rounding the corner like furry, miniature greyhounds with tails wagging and tongues flopping out, completely undeterred by the rain or our attempts to lose them. And... they’re gaining on us! The scene is simultaneously desperate and hilarious. 

I yell an update to Matt and resolve to lose those darn puppies once and for all. Imagining myself in full view of the triathlon finish line, I take a deep breath, collect my energy, and ride like never before....

Near the top of the hill, we look back, and have never been so happy to see cute puppies retreating from our field of view. 

Lessons: 1) Montenegrin puppies are cute; and 2) the next time I enter a triathlon, the thought of saving puppies by out-biking them will definitely make me ride faster. 

Monstermoon Dispatch #1: Bey-Jay, Man Purses, and Taciturn Turks

Unsurprisingly, we underestimated the impact of getting married, wrapping up work, and packing backpacks for four months of living on four continents in at least as many climates. We finished packing and without a moment to process, turned our place over to a kind couple from Minnesota and their dog Milo who will be filling in for Tulsa as chief couch warmer and house protector. We scrambled to a waiting Lyft and a waiting flight to Paris. On the plane, after a flurry of activity, we began to process the whirlwind that was our last month in SF. 

We are now 2 weeks into the trip and we are still processing things like: our wedding (verdict: a tornado of fun and friends); final work items (not as fun, but satisfying to wrap up); and the stark transition from real life to Monstermoon (which we'll give more airtime to in the pages of this very blog).

But, this is a travel blog. And, we don't have much time before our flight to Madrid from Turkey's Turquoise Coast, so a quick travel summary, with an anticlimactic Beyonce anecdote, is in order. 

The city of light... in the dark

We landed in Paris to a light rain and an AirBnb host who hadn't left the key at the restaurant downstairs as promised. Luckily, Carson's friends Celine and Renaud swooped us off to dinner and tracked down our hosts. 

Paris was just a stopover but thanks to friends Whitney, Matt, Bri, Carlos, and Mados, our second night in Paris was the classiest and tastiest of our trip. Huge thanks for the 9 course meal at Verjus! Haven't heard of Verjus? Imagine you are Beyonce and Jay-Z and your mom comes to town to watch Blue Ivy so you can sneak away to Paris for a night. Where do you get dinner? Verjus (click here).  Unfortunately Bey-Jay visited the night after we devoured hors de oeuvres in the same seats. 

In Paris, we invented a game to keep ourselves both occupied and observant of our surroundings. The game is a modified version of slug-a-bug (the game where you hit the person you are with if see a VW bug).  In each country, we pick a unique "thing" that seems like it will be rare, but not too rare that the game will be boring.... and  then we slug each other lovingly when we see it. 

In Paris we played slug-a-baguette whenever we saw a frenchman or woman fulfilling our Parisian stereotype by bustling somewhere with a baguette. A baguette with a bite out of it was worth two slugs. 

Your view from work, if you were an archer
for the city of Dubrovnik

From Paris we flew to Dubrovnik Croatia where there is an apparent national obsession with topiary which we slugged each other for as we biked around small islands in the Adriatic Sea. Topiary slugging lasted until we got to Montenegro and quickly identified the Montenegrin affection for the Murse. Montenegrins have a warlike reputation but that doesn't stop most men from proudly sporting man-purses which we slugged each other for in as warlike a manner as we could muster. 

From Montenegro we flew to Istanbul where we walked around bazaars, mosques, Turkish bath houses, random suburbs, just for fun. We played slug-a-ruin which caused a proliferation of slugging because the Romans, Greeks, and Ottomans loved building things so their distant descendants would have interesting decaying buildings to one day wander around. These descendants return on busses to photograph themselves in front ruins with iphones extended on little poles which we are calling selfie-sticks. Of course, we are also playing slug-a-selfie-stick.

From Istanbul, we flew to Fethiye on the Mediterranean for a 3 day Gulet trip. Gulet is the Turkish word for 'locally made slightly janky sailboat sailed by a taciturn Turkish man who refuses to use the sail and instead motors around and complains of the high cost of diesel." Basically, we went Yachting in the Turkish Agean Sea and it was amazing. 

From here on, expect more frequent blog updates as we walk the Camino de Santiago in Spain.

Walls'n water - Kotor, Montenegro

Frolicking with fall foliage - Montenegrin Mountains