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BEYOND BALI
Indonesia’s hidden islands
BRAZIL WITH BITE
Beaches, beauties and vampires
NIUE IDEA
The best place you’ve never heard of
DALMATIAN HOT SPOT
On a mission in Montenegro
SECRET SRI LANKA Into the north – the last frontier ISSN 1449-3543
AMSTERDAM: A right royal knees up WARRIOR CHIC: From Paris to PNG, showgirls go wild DOING TIME: Break into 10 of the world’s most infamous prisons
SOUTH KOREA | TURKEY | UNITED STATES | AFGHANISTAN
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NETHERLANDS
Ditch Bali and discover a chain of beautiful islands in the Java Sea
Channel your inner monarchist at Amsterdam’s Queen’s Day festival
BRAZIL
SRI LANKA
Dare to go where the vampires bite on Ilha Grande
MONTENEGRO
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NIUE
Go north to Sri Lanka’s last frontier
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Turning green travel on its head with 30 of the best eco-friendly experiences around.
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Paddle power your way across the Dalmatian Coast
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INDONESIA
Discover the secret Pacific gem known as the ‘Rock of Polynesia’
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TROPICAL NORTH QUEENSLAND Grab a mask and go river snorkelling along the upper reaches of the Mossman
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PAPUA NEW GUINEA Delight in the pairing of Parisian showgirls with PNG warriors
get in the know The fastest speed recorded by a manned, air breathing jet is 3529kmh, clocked by a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird in 1976.
CONTENTS
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News & Views The globe uncovered Events All tomorrow’s parties, planet-wide Places to Stay The weird and wonderful
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Top Trips The best we can find Top 10 Behind bars – prison tourism Retro Travel Travel from yesteryear in Africa
110 FOOD
The hungry traveller in South Africa
112 PHOTOGRAPHY Expert travel photo tips
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You Wish Take a dip in a pool like no other Get Packing Discover South Korea with an instant itinerary After Dark Istanbul – beyond the Sultanahmet
120 MUSIC
How Kiwi tunes got their groove
122 RESPONSIBLE TRAVEL Mind your footprint
116 TRAVEL JOB
The man at the centre of a cultural revolution in Afghanistan
124 REVIEWS
118 OUR SHOUT
128 CONFESSIONS
The world’s best bars
Gadgets and other goodies
Mark Dapin on rich cheapskates
get in the know The longest road in the world is the Pan-American Hwy, extending 47,958km from Alaska to the tip of Argentina.
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EXPOSURE
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ilipino pa-aling divers coax a huge net Full of fish into a boat in the south china sea. pa-aling is a controversial and dangerous method of net fishing practised around the islands of cebú and palawan. it involves groups of men diving to the ocean floor and setting up a large purse-shaped net at the side of a reef. the men then arrange themselves in a line and march slowly over the reef, forming a human barrier, corralling all sea life into the jaws of the net. divers breathe compressed air through long, slender tubes and can dive to 30m reefs for more than half an hour at a time. it’s dangerous work with primitive equipment. the men use homemade weight belts and fins, the tubes that are their lifeline often kink, and migraines and ‘the bends’ are common. there aren’t many old men doing this job.
• Canon 5D mark II in underwater housing • Canon 16–35 f/2.8 lens at 16mm • ISO 640, f/3.2, 1/2000 Photography by timothy allen
Lara Dunston goes hot Turkey, takes a toke on the narghile and discovers there’s much more than mezze to get your mouth watering during a night out in Istanbul. Photography by Terence Carter
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get in the know Contrary to popular belief, Istanbul is not the capital of Turkey – that title belongs to the less interesting inland city of Ankara.
Istanbul af ter dark
Locals socialising at Mr Bliss to the sounds of Black Sea folk-rocker Aydog˘an Topal.
get in the know Istanbul is the only city to straddle two continents, Europe and Asia. Cross the Bosphorus by ferry to visit both in one day.
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Main: Rhapsody in orange – royalist revellers on the canals of Amsterdam. Opposite: (drag) queen Beatrix looks on.
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get in the know The last king of the Netherlands was William III, who died in 1890.
NetherlaNds
suzanne morton-taylor helps paint the town orange as revelry reaches fever pitch in Amsterdam for the penultimate Queen’s Day celebrations.
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range wigs, cOngested canals, live music everywhere and lots of beer. Queen’s day is most definitely the netherlands’ most exuberant festival. it’s celebrated nationwide, but if you’re around during Queen’s day, make sure you head to amsterdam, capital of the netherlands and host to the country’s wildest parties. although many dutch couldn’t care less about the monarchy, they wouldn’t miss this national holiday for the world. every year on april 30 more than 700,000 people converge on the capital for 24-hours of fun and frivolity. while the queen and her royal entourage engage in traditional folkish activity in some idyllic village somewhere in the provinces, the real hardcore partying is done in amsterdam; queen or no queen. “Do you know what is going on?” a group of baffled Japanese tourists ask me on the train to Amsterdam, via the airport. Judging by their suitcases they have just arrived and apparently haven’t got a clue what they’ve stumbled upon. The train is jam-packed with people dressed in ridiculous orange outfits, the Dutch national colour. Orange wigs, big plastic crowns and flags complete the madness. So either the Dutch national soccer team has won the European final – which grips the country with similar revelry – or something else is going on. Yes, something else is most definitely going on. It’s Queen’s Day – the day the Dutch celebrate the birthday of Queen Beatrix. Well, actually her late mother’s birthday, as Queen Beatrix’s birthday is in January and temperatures below zero would seriously spoil the outdoor fun.
get in the know Queen’s Day is known as Koninginnedag in Dutch.
My attempt to explain the chaos is drowned out by a group of loudly singing young men. Some have bloodshot eyes – Queen’s Night on April 29 has become a big event in the past decade, especially in The Hague, and, although drinking on the train is forbidden on this day, the pungent smell of alcohol is everywhere. And it’s only 11 o’clock in the morning. Once we arrive outside Amsterdam central station thirst takes over. “Wanna beer?” my companion asks. I’m sure it’s five o’clock somewhere in the world so I cave in. I must admit that despite the early hour, the cold fluid is magnificently refreshing. As the orange-coloured mass slowly moves straight onto the Damrak, we decide to turn right into the Jordaan area, arguably the most picturesque part of the city. Grab a random postcard and you’ll see the picture perfect canals lined with stately mansions, Amsterdam’s pride and a striking backdrop for the colourful festivities. By midday the streets are filled with people dancing to ear-splitting music pumping from large ghetto blasters, carefully balanced on window panes. Holland isn’t known for its great climate and April can be chilly, but today the sun in blazing and everyone is peeling off layers of clothing and slopping on sunscreen. Overlooking the water you truly grasp the scale of the festivities. The canals are congested with dozens of boats trying to pass the narrow bridges, but no one seems to care as they cheerfully dance and sing along to the music. We’re probably safer on shore as the wobbly boats are so jammed with people it’s a miracle they still float. ISSUE #36 get lost #45
Exploring one of Indonesia’s 11,508 uninhabited islands near Belitung.
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get in the know With 240 million inhabitants, Indonesia is the fourth-largest country on earth by population.
IndonesIa
Cam Cope ditches Bali and tips his hati hati to a bevy of beautiful and virtually unknown islands in a secret corner of the Java Sea. Photography by Cam Cope
get in the know Indonesia is made up of 17,508 islands, 6000 of which are inhabited.
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trace the flIght of a butterfly that darts through the open canopy of our boat and out over the gleaming Java sea lagoon. as it disappears my eyes settle on an island of surreal granite boulders that hold their backs to the water. Fine white sand spills from between the rocks onto a gentle beach where painted wooden vessels nuzzle each other, and a handful of people dip their feet. For a moment I feel a pang of loss as we pass by without stopping, but when I widen my gaze a dozen similar configurations of boulders, white sand and coconut trees come into view. It’s as if the beaches are clamouring for visitors but there aren’t nearly enough to go around. With the help of Rusty, a self-styled tour boat captain and beach shack restaurateur, I’m exploring a chain of uninhabited islands off the coast of Belitung, a modest island between Borneo and Sumatra. In 2009 this beautiful coastline starred
Rusty drops me off at Burung (Bird) Island, where a picnicking family waves to me through a cloud of lemongrass smoke before I hit the beach. On all sides of the island boulders lie like giant marbles cast by the handful. They tumble down from among the palms and create private patches of sand along the shore. I briefly lament that there’s no surf to break over their haphazard arrangements. But, in a region revered for surfing, this pocket of beautiful, calm waters is obviously overlooked by the masses – and that’s no bad thing. Visitor statistics show that 91 per cent of Australians who visit Indonesia go direct to Bali, and few venture much further. Yet locals proudly inform me there are 17,507 other islands begging to be explored in what is a vast and diverse archipelago stretching across three time zones. It strikes me that if I were to spend a day on each island I’d be in Indonesia until 2060. I could think of worse ways to notch up my 75th birthday.
one of the island’s innumerable iconic boulders has been concreted into a seemingly abandoned water feature that adorns the entrance. I can’t help thinking it looks unflatteringly like a giant gonad. in the one of the biggest box office hits in history, but unless you’re a late night SBS movie buff you’ve probably never seen it. That’s because the film is Laskar Pelangi (Rainbow Troops) – a runaway success for the Indonesian film industry, which sparked a mild boom in domestic tourism for this otherwise obscure island, once known only for mining. For me, it’s clear that the potential here has barely been tapped.
The blue streaks that have so far stuck to the horizon suddenly engulf the island in a torrent of well-fed raindrops, which send us packing for Rusty’s boat. After a turtle sighting and a few Bintangs, even more refreshing than the downpour, we arrive at Tanjung Tinggi, the principal beach featured in Laskar Pelangi and the spot where the mild bulk of domestic tourism lands. A charming strip of low-key restaurant-shacks sits back from the beach under deep, broad-leafed
Fishermen at Tanjung Kelayang, Belitung Island.
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get in the know Indonesia has at least 150 active volcanoes, which have caused many large-scale disasters, including Krakatoa and Tambora.
IndonesIa
A fruit shop trader in Sungailiat, Bangka Island.
A family enjoying Tanjung Tinggi Beach, Belitung Island. A fish market trader in Sungailiat, Bangka Island.
A sunrise rider on Belitung Island.
shade; a newly erected plaque proudly proclaims this to be “the film site of Indonesia’s most popular movie”. Teenagers scramble amongst even more elaborately laid boulders, while young men on esky-saddled mopeds casually hawk ‘es krim’ (ice cream). Our van gets bogged in the sandy beach track and somehow I become famous among a group of families visiting from Jakarta. They’ve got the idea I’m a celebrity contestant from the Australian MasterChef series (Indonesia’s highest rating TV show) and are queuing up with their camera phones. I suspect Julietta, a mischievous young lady also on Rusty’s tour, has deliberately spread this playful rumour. Leaving Tanjung Tinggi, we cruise past many kilometres of undeveloped beachfront before arriving at the only resort on the coast. Despite its comfortable villas, the resort somehow manages to pull off both unfinished and rundown at the same time. One of the island’s innumerable iconic boulders has been concreted into a seemingly abandoned water feature that adorns the entrance. I can’t help thinking it looks unflatteringly like a giant gonad. With a touch more poetry, Julietta suggests that it’s more of a Buddha in waiting, a masterpiece yet to be carved. It’s a fitting metaphor for tourism on Belitung.
An hour’s ride away I discover the world’s most delicious chilli crab at Mutiara, a low-key wooden slat restaurant in Tanjung Pandan, Belitung’s capital. For dessert I return to the resort for Indonesian chocolate, banana and cheese fritters. The illogical mix somehow works for me, but I’m pretty sure it’s the Bintang talking. I manage to haul my bursting stomach into bed as the sound of a distant call to prayer mingles with gentle shore break from the beach. A gurgling moped passes by with a young girl singing on the back and I’m lulled to sleep. In the morning I breakfast on rice pudding, chilli sambal and peanuts, before my driver takes a shortcut to the airport through an immense palm oil plantation. Staring down the flickering rows of converging monoculture, it’s clear that tourism is far from the mainstay of the local economy. My plane dodges a pack of dogs on the tarmac before taking off to reveal the unmistakable effect that tin mining (Belitung’s former primary industry) has also had on the island. Pools of deep emerald and turquoise choke a number of waterways amidst eroded tailings, thick carpet mosaics of palm plantations and remnant rainforest. When I arrive in neighbouring Bangka Island it’s clear that the island is in the midst of a mining boom of its own. Santana
get in the know There are about 300 distinct native ethnic groups in Indonesia and about 742 different languages.
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Cooling off under a water stand at one of Ilha Grande’s sleepy fishing villages.
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get in the know Among those who did time as a prisoner on Ilha Grande was Graciliano Ramos, a well-known Brazilian author, journalist and politician.
BRAZIL
SAVAGE
beauty
Mark eveleigh discovers darkness beneath the skin of paradise, as he explores Ilha Grande – a Brazilian beauty haunted by a past populated with pirates and prisoners. Photography by Mark eveleigh
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eresa CrisTina de BriTo Pinheiro dos anjos is sitting on her kitchen step, watching me tie up my hammock and sharing some local knowledge. i have the feeling that she spends a lot of time chatting like this and at the moment she’s particularly enjoying clueing me in on unexpected risks of camping on ilha Grande. “It’s lucky that hammock has a sturdy mosquito net,” she says. I hazard a guess in broken Portuguese. “Lots of mosquitoes here then?” “No, no, the sea breeze keeps them away. It’s the vampire bats you have to worry about.” I’m halfway through a trek around Brazil’s so-called Big Island – about 150km south-west of Rio de Janeiro – and apparently I’m now deep inside ‘bat country’. It strikes me as somewhat surprising that nobody bothered to warn me earlier about the danger of death by vampire bat. “My cousin was bitten a couple of weeks ago,” my new advisor continues. “The course of rabies jabs afterwards was worse than the bites.” I can tell she is doing her best to reassure me, but I wonder if I will ever feel the same about myself after I’ve been sucked by vampires. Will I be forced to see myself as ‘vampire-bitten’ ever afterwards? It’s a form of virginity that I’m reluctant to lose. But there have been many more sinister things than vampires during the history of what was once called the ‘Island of the Damned’. The dark period of Ilha Grande’s history began with the arrival of British and Dutch pirates who slaughtered the
get in the know It’s claimed that Tupí warriors would eat fighters captured from other tribes to absorb their strength.
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Boats at rest on the Kalpitiya Peninsula, one of the author’s first stops on her road trip through the north. Photo by Hiranya Malwatta
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get in the know The girth of Mannar’s tubbiest baobab tree measures 20m.
Sri Lanka
TAmIL TRAIL
BLAZING Heading north from Colombo, through the once infamous region of the Vanni and across Elephant Pass, Emma Boyle explores Sri Lanka’s final frontier. Photography by Hiranya Malwatta and Emma Boyle
get in the know Tamil culture is closely associated with a number of martial arts such as kuttu varisai, varma kalai, maankombukkalai and kalarippayattu.
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his gives new meaning To The Term caTTle class,” chuckles my friend as she hops aboard a set of scales as part of check-in for our domestic flight between Jaffna’s Palaly airport and colombo. Having been herded into a spluttering Tata bus and driven to the ‘terminal’, we are shepherded through a process that involves the weighing of our bodies as well as our bags. Redfaced, we board our plane – a twin-engine Antonov AN-32 military aircraft – only to be welcomed by boxes of stinking Jaffna prawns sweating it out in the searing 35°C heat of the unpressurised cabin. Back when we’d been planning our trip to the Jaffna Peninsular, we were looking to experience exactly this sort of extraordinary. We wanted to travel, and to taste an adventure of the flavour you don’t usually find in Sri Lanka. We hoped that by visiting the north – untouched by tourism and branded by 26 years of civil war – we would experience Sri Lanka at her most raw. Since the conflict’s dramatic climax in May 2009, thousands of locals have made the bone-crunching pilgrimage to the north, but few foreign travellers have followed suit. I was keen to be amongst the first to visit Sri Lanka’s final frontier, a region deemed to have more cultural similarities with India’s Tamil Nadu than with Sri Lanka’s Buddhist-dominated south. So, after enlisting a group of like-minded friends and renting a van and driver, we finalised our route: we would head up the seldom-visited north-west coast to the island of Mannar, then voyage east to Vavuniya and north again along the A9 highway to Jaffna, via Elephant Pass. Instead of repeating our outbound journey, we’d fly back to Colombo. Setting off from the lush capital at dawn, we drive up the A3, passing by the fishing town of Chilaw and pushing into the dry zone. Just 8km shy of Puttalam, curiosity sends us hurtling up the Kalpitiya Peninsula – a crescent-shaped landmass arching around the Puttalam Lagoon. The epic panorama of this arid, windswept landscape assaults our senses. The murky mangrove-pocked salt flats fringing the expansive grey-white lagoon have a raw, eerie beauty, whilst the pointed leaves of palmyrah palms crackle menacingly overhead. Kites dot the azure skies, and a line of wind turbines spin silently on the lagoon’s far eastern shore.
we hoped that by visiting the north – untouched by tourism and branded by 26 years of civil war – we would experience sri lanka at her most raw. Kalpitiya’s beaches prove every inch as arresting. Given their relative proximity to the airport ( just a couple of hours), we are surprised to see only a sprinkling of eco-resorts set back from Alankuda’s fir-fringed, near-deserted beach. Wandering along the sand, we encounter a gang of sarong-clad fishermen dragging a huge net onto shore, watched by a growing gaggle of villagers. Nearby, an earlier catch of fish lies shrinking and drying under the hot tropical sun. Kattawa (dried fish), a rather pungent delicacy used to flavour curries and sambals, is a particular speciality of the northern coastal regions, and we are to see many more of these hardened leathery hides dangling from the beams of shops. Beyond Kalpitiya and Puttalam, the rust-red road pierces Wilpattu National Park and continues to Mannar, where we spend the night in a simple guesthouse 8km east of town. #64 get lost ISSUE #36
A fisherman in Jaffna. Photo by Emma Boyle
Mannar sits at the eastern end of a thin island attached to the mainland by a 2km bridge. The island boasts a Portuguese fort and baobab bottle trees introduced by Arab traders from Africa 700 years ago, but the most interesting feature lies just beyond the far western tip. Adam’s Bridge is a chain of limestone shoals that extends to India, some 30km distant. Thought to be the route by which the earliest human settlers reached Sri Lanka 250,000 to 300,000 years ago, this was also the perilous pathway many displaced Sri Lankan Tamils used to flee the country during the war. After a delicious breakfast of curries laid on by our generous hosts, we jump into the van and travel east towards Vavuniya. The journey is punctuated with stops at the serene Ketheeswaram Kovil, ringed by an iconic red-and-white–striped wall, and the huge, late nineteenth century Portuguese-style Madhu church, home to a 300-year-old statue of Virgin Mary. Beyond Vavuniya, snaking along the infamous A9 through the sparsely populated northern landmass that is the Vanni, we are soon confronted with remnants of the war: desolate bullet-ridden houses, ghost towns, the headless trunks of palms severed by shelling, and yellow tape depicting the presence of mines. get in the know Kalpitiya’s coastline is a hotspot for dolphins and whales.
Sri Lanka
The mood lightens as we reach the town of Kilinochchi. As the de facto capital of the rebel Tamil Tigers, this town was shelled repeatedly during the war, yet the scars of its casualties are harder to decipher, as buildings have been patched up or rebuilt, or lie hidden behind new, vibrant coats of paint. A bombed water tower lying where it fell is the exception, and this is the first of a handful of war memorials we encounter on our 16km journey up towards Elephant Pass, the isthmus of the Jaffna Peninsula. Others include a grenade-charred armoured bulldozer, a bullet-scarred open-top jeep and, at Elephant Pass itself, a huge mounted map of Sri Lanka supported by four hands and topped with a blooming a lotus flower. Here we begin chatting to local tourists. They’re interested to know our reasons for visiting a region with few obvious charms, and we are keen to know theirs. Thirty-six-year-old Dilhan Liyanage, a Sinhalese pharmacist from Dondra, in the southern district of Matara, echoes the majority sentiment: “I wanted to revisit a part of my country that was off limits for years,” he says. “Now we can safely travel here, I’ve brought my wife and children to see it for the first time.”
Others have come to visit the land where their loved ones fought and fell, and a few are paying visits to relatives and friends. After finally crossing Elephant Pass, we arrive on the Jaffna Peninsula and travel towards town. On its quiet eastern fringes, we notice colourful bougainvillea and the fruit of karthacolomban (mango) trees draped across the spacious front yards of elegant Dutch period homes, gracefully adorned with pillared verandahs, carved roundels and engraved teak shutters. We encounter many more houses like this across town, although sadly most of them are abandoned, their owners having fled overseas at the advent of the war. Driving straight into town, we pass the dome-crowned public library and stop off at the pentagonal Jaffna Fort, built by the Portuguese and extended by the Dutch. From its thick ramparts, we scour the views across to Kayts, an island connected to the Jaffna mainland by a narrow causeway topped by buses and bikes. Later, we pluck fruit from the vibrant yellow market stalls, pose beside a fleet of evocative Austin Cambridge taxis and stray up side streets in search of midi vedi, an explosively hot samosa whose name translates as ‘land mine’.
get in the know Until the 15th century, Adam’s Bridge – which stretches between Sri Lanka and India – was passable on foot.
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clockwise from top left: A young beachgoer at Herceg Novi. On tour with Kayak Montenegro. Holidaymakers at the beach near Forte Mare. A submarine pen cut into the cliff. Kayakers emerging from one of the submarine pens.
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get in the know At its greatest depth, the Tara River Canyon plummets to 1300m. America’s Grand Canyon is 1600m deep.
MONTENEGRO
Paddling across once-troubled waters in Montenegro, Lisa Perkovic learns a little about espionage and international relations from a small country with a colourful past. Photography by Matthew Lane & Lisa Perkovic
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here’s noT Much hoPe of reMaining inconsPicuous when you’re bobbing around in a bright orange kayak on the Bay of Kotor. Montenegro’s unesco heritage–listed bay, directly across the adriatic from italy and close to the croatian border, has featured in a few tugs of war over the centuries, and the remnants of these conflicts are all around – although some are well hidden, unlike me. fortunately it’s all quiet on the western front these days, otherwise i’d be a sitting duck. Despite its often-troubled past, Montenegro is slowly emerging from the shadows of the former Yugoslavia as a proud and sovereign state, having gained full independence from Serbia in 2006. In the same year, the country burst onto the big screen with a starring role in the movie Casino Royale. James Bond sped along the Budva coast in a speedboat, lost a lot of money at the casino (actually filmed in the Czech Republic but that’s Hollywood for you) and then went on his way: Montenegro instantly became synonymous with the high-roller lifestyle. In reality, the place is slowly catching up with its own image. Herceg Novi is the first major town south of the Croatian border, and it’s from here that the Bay of Kotor opens up to
reveal many secrets. Our first lesson in espionage is to look beyond the obvious. Striking out across the ripple-free bay, we dodge yachts and fishing boats to reach Montenegro’s Lustica Peninsula. The crossing hasn’t always been such smooth sailing. Directly opposite Herceg Novi lies Prevlaka Peninsula, a highly strategic territory situated on the southern tip of the Croatian border, once the source of much dispute. From the water, both sides of the bay look mild and innocuous. Until we spot gaping black holes cut into the cliffs, that is. Tito’s submarine pens are a sobering sight. The formidable President of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia had tunnels chiselled out of the coastal rock face as a precaution against attack. Cut into the coast like giant socket-holes, the holding pens are an eerie reminder of the days when this coast saw more soldiers than sun seekers and holiday-makers. The locals remember that era. Old men talk of summers spent learning battle techniques in the storerooms at the back of their shops – all part of their compulsory military service. As I paddle into a submarine pen, the temperature drops as dramatically as the darkness descends. Straight away my sense of space disappears. Slicing a paddle through the dark is the only sign there’s water below. What else lies waiting beneath we don’t want to know. The guards and their guns are long gone, so hopefully the underwater war machines are too. The pen runs about 80m into the rock. By day diving companies use it to simulate night dives and by night local teenagers bring in stereos and strobe lights for rave parties.
get in the know Scenes set in Montenegro from the James Bond movie Casino Royale were shot in the Czech Republic and on Lake Como, Italy.
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