Whenever I go on vacation, I find myself wondering if I should live there. I definitely contemplated it when I went to Anguilla last winter. Why return to snowy New York?, I thought. Anguilla has everything I need.
Traveling with We Roam has allowed me to test this idea. While a month isn’t long enough to experience all the nuances of a place, it’s long enough to give you a sense for what day-to-day life is like. And I’ve learned there’s a huge difference between places I want to visit and places I want to live.
I’ve only been in Belgrade for three days now, but I can tell it’s extremely livable. I already have a favorite coffee shop, Aviator—they have several branches, but one (pictured below) is just around the corner from my apartment. And if around the corner is too far, I have another lovely coffee shop by day/bar by night right next door. On the other side of my building is a reasonably well stocked 24-hour grocery store, and there’s another just across the street. Every restaurant I’ve been to so far has been delicious, affordable, and within an eight-minute walk from my flat.
Yes, food and drinks comprise 90% of my happiness.
But really, I’m not saying Belgrade has everything I need (New York’s arts scene has ruined me for most cities, and the dating apps here offer slim pickings), but my essential building blocks for contentment are present.
An interesting flip side is the cities where I’ve felt most at home so far, Berlin and Belgrade, are two of the least picturesque. Last month in Split was such a strange month for me—while I had some of my favorite moments of the trip there (visiting the waterfalls at Krka on my long-distance date, for one), I felt frustrated living in a town that was filled to the brim with other travelers, where the closest grocery store was a 15-minute walk away and closed at 7 pm, and the restaurants were largely either unappealing or overpriced with middling food.
Yet Split is undeniably beautiful. While it shares some unfortunate Communist bloc architecture with Berlin and Belgrade, the ancient beauty of the old town with Diocletian’s Palace and the natural beauty of the coast shine through.
For me, though, amenities trump appearance. I would have loved Split if I’d stayed there for a couple nights on my way to the islands, as most travelers do, but 37 days there was far too long.
All of this is deeply subjective. I knew that before this trip, of course; New York is an incredibly polarizing city. But it’s been fascinating to travel alongside people, having nearly identical experiences of a place but completely opposite reactions. My roommate last month adored Split. She drew energy from just walking around the old town and felt like she could happily stay there forever. Berlin, meanwhile, the latest love of my life, left her cold.
I’d be happy to visit Split, but I’d go crazy if I lived there. I could easily live in Belgrade, but it wouldn’t be my top recommendation to someone looking for a vacation. But you might disagree. And that’s one reason why we travel—to discover these things for, and about, ourselves.
Last week I boarded yet another ferry to travel to Dubrovnik. I’d intended for this to be the last city on my island hop, but since I detoured home and then to Tisno, it was a completely separate trip—so a 7 AM, six hour ferry ride, it was. (Technically the ferry is only supposed to take four and a half hours, but it was massively delayed on the way there and back, so I don’t buy it. If you’re hoping to go straight from the ferry to the airport, plan accordingly.)
I was a little tired after the back and forth, and I might have skipped Dubrovnik entirely, but a new friend on the trip decided to join me for the first night. She provided exactly the motivation I needed to get my butt out of bed and to the ferry dock.
Day 1
Our adventure got off to a late start—not only was the ferry slow, but the Airbnb host left us sitting at a cafe for over an hour. Luckily, I’d packed a lunch, so we ate chips and shared a peanut butter sandwich while kicking things off with a couple beers, which we regretted as soon as we saw how many steps were involved in reaching the apartment. Once we made it up there, though, we realized the view was more than worth it.
After Instagramming our fill from the windows, we walked down into the old city. Walking in the gates, you truly do feel like you’re entering an ancient castle. We were instantly charmed.
Not quite satiated from half of a sandwich, we proceeded to snack our way through town, starting with a 10% off happy hour pizza, followed by iced coffees. Thus fortified, we were able to scout an actual destination, D’Vino Wine Bar. We sat on stools in an adorable alley and each had a wine flight, while sharing an exceptional cheese plate with goat cheese and fresh ginger.
Then with just a couple hours until dinner, we had to work up our appetites again, so we decided to walk the city walls. The views were fantastic, and while the walk had a few (a lot) more steps than we’d anticipated, it wound up being my favorite Dubrovnik activity. It’s crowded no matter when you go, but aim for early in the morning or, like we did, an hour before closing when you get the golden hour light.
By the time we completed the circuit, it was nearly time for dinner at Nautika. The restaurant overlooks the water and the city walls, and everything—the views, the service, the food—was delightful. We started with scallops covered in flakes of black truffle, then had sea bass and tuna. The portions are relatively small, but the flavors are excellent. With dessert, we tried two of their signature cocktails. Our waiter served my whiskey-based drink in a teapot, and I was very. very. happy.
We turned in early, but the beach club down the hill, Banje, had the music going, so we opened the windows and felt like we had the best of both worlds, listening and lying in bed.
Day 2
We had a leisurely breakfast on a patio in the old city (just pick one; they’re very similar), and then we powered up the steps to get to the cable car. The wait was a little long and a lot hot, but eventually we made it up the mountain to take in the view:
If you only have time for one touristy activity, I’d pick the walls over the cable car, though both were fun. I said goodbye to my travel companion, as she decided to Uber to the ferry from the top of the hill, and I went back down the way I came.
By then it was mid-afternoon, and I didn’t have quite enough time to visit the island of Lokrum (pictured above) or head to the beach, so I finished exploring all the twists of the old city. If you’re a Game of Thrones fan (I’m not), there’s a lot to see—I accidentally settled in for a short break on what I thought were just some picturesque steps and then ran away after the fifth group walked by filming themselves yelling, “SHAME, SHAME.” Ugh.
Even though it’s incredibly touristy, I decided to check out Buza Bar, basically built into the cliff. It’s ridiculously crowded, but the ocean views are lovely. I then had an early dinner at Kopun and ate rooster (capon) prepared in the traditional way, which I highly recommend.
I had to get up early the next morning, so I headed home and spent the evening watching the sun set from my apartment’s window. My Airbnb called itself “Apartment Perfect View,” a surprisingly honest description.
Day 3
On my last day, I took a day trip, booked through Viator, to Mostar, a town in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Mostar—as you can tell from the name—is famous for Stari Most (old bridge). Originally built in the 16th century, the bridge was completely destroyed in the war in 1993 and reconstructed in 2004 with the help of global donations. We arrived just in time to see a member of the Mostar Diving Club jump off the bridge, a leap they make a few times a day.
Beyond the bridge and the bazaar, there isn’t too much else to see in Mostar, but I appreciated learning a bit more about the history of the region on the guided tour. It made me realize just how little I know—I had no idea the country was divided into Bosniaks (generally Muslim), Serbs (Orthodox), and Croats (Catholic) and that the presidency is comprised of one person from each of these groups, who fill a rotating chair position.
Though Mostar was full of tourists, the country is in the early stages of tourism. You can still see some of the ruins from the war around town, and our guide was generally pessimistic about their recovery. I bought a few books to help me better understand, but I’m glad I was able to visit in person to gain some context. And I love these guided tours for solo travelers; it would have been difficult to replicate this experience on my own.
On the way back to Dubrovnik, we stopped at Kravice Falls—not quite as beautiful as Krka, but very pretty. The description of the tour unfortunately failed to mention this, so I didn’t think to bring a swimsuit, but I had a nice sit on the riverbank.
We returned in the early evening, and I grabbed a quick pasta dinner before watching the sun set once more and packing up my things for the long and early ferry ride back to Split.
Dubrovnik is one of those places that’s incredibly touristy but still manages to hold onto its appeal. I’d recommend it over Split, should you be deciding how to spend your time; while Split is technically larger, Dubrovnik’s old city is much more impressive. If you’ve been, let me know what you think in the comments. And check out my Instagram for more photos of these magical places.
Last Saturday, I boarded a catamaran to visit the island of Vis, the first stop on what was supposed to be a 10-day vacation, hopping to Hvar, Korcula, and Dubrovnik. The very next day, I returned home to Split, tired and sweaty and annoyed.
I haven’t made a secret of the fact that Croatia is not my favorite. I’m not really an ocean person in general—I enjoy the occasional beach vacation, but more of the “stay in a hotel that’s two steps to the beach and go to that beach every day and read a book while a waiter brings drinks” variety, rather than the Croatian “hike to this random rocky outcrop or take a scooter halfway across the island and walk across some pebbles to swim in the sea.” I think I’d like Croatia okay in June, but in August (particularly this August), it’s just not my idea of a good time.
So I got to Vis, and it’s cute and all, but it didn’t take my breath away. Then I met my (very sweet) Airbnb host who took me to the apartment…where I realized that I had royally fucked up.
I made my reservation both too early and too late. Too early because I was still in Berlin, where it was rainy and chilly, and the importance of air conditioning was not at the forefront of my mind. Too late because by the time I had booked, there were approximately two apartments to choose from in this little town.
And the apartment was stifling. By the time my host finished describing tours and telling me where the best beaches were (on the other side of the island…and the closest beach was a 40 minute walk away), sweat dripped down her face. I left all the windows and the balcony door open and left for dinner, hoping it would be cooler when I came home.
It was not. And I was in a foul mood because I’d dropped my knife and spattered gravy all over my favorite shirt, and it took a literal hour to get the bill. So I waited and watched Felicity on my laptop, hoping it would cool down as the night progressed. Around 3 AM, I finally dozed off, and I think I slept for a solid 15 minutes or so as I lay there, hot and miserable.
At 10 AM, I dragged my sticky, sweat-coated, unrefreshed self out of bed and decided I’d had enough. Vacations are supposed to be fun, and I wasn’t having any. I re-packed my stuff and got on the noon ferry back to Split.
Hi, Vis! Bye, Vis.
As frustrating as it was to waste time and money like that, I did learn a few lessons from the experience that I hope I can keep in mind as I travel:
1. I can’t do everything.
I’ve always said that I want to travel (almost) everywhere. Now I’m on this adventure, and I’m getting to experience so many different places. But I’ve felt such pressure to do more. If I’m in Croatia, I must do all the things there are to do in Croatia. Islands! Waterfalls! Go go go go go! And if in addition to seeing Croatia, I can fit in a side trip to a neighboring country, too, so much the better.
But, in month four of my trip, I’m realizing just how unfeasible this is. I’m tired. I don’t have time to prepare for all these adventures, either practically or psychologically, so I’m not enjoying it when I get there. Instead…
2. I need to prioritize what I really want.
The night before I was set to leave on the trip, my roommate for the month noted how unexcited I seemed about it. She wasn’t wrong—I haven’t really dreamed of seeing these islands; it’s just the thing you do in Croatia, so I was doing it.
The thing about joining We Roam is that while I can choose my itinerary, the individual countries are set. The upside is that sometimes I discover a place like Berlin that I had no idea I would love so much. The downside is that sometimes I spend a month in a country I don’t like.
But I do have control over my side trips, so it’s silly to plan those based on some external idea of what I *should* be doing. Instead I need to look at a map and figure out where I can go that excites me and ignites my sense of adventure. If I do that and still find myself in a spot I don’t really want to be, though…
3. It’s okay to bail.
I don’t like quitting things. Even if it’s just a vacation, quitting feels like failure. And it sucks to lose money. But I think what sucks more is sitting alone on an island (or wherever), miserably holding fast to your principles.
I tweeted something last month that still resonates with me:
I’ve regretted quitting things because I was lazy but never because I was unhappy.
That’s particularly true when it comes to something like vacation, where pleasure is the sole purpose. And the best thing about it is…
4. Bailing makes room for things I enjoy more.
You’ll get the full story in another blog post soon, but since my island hop was a bust, I decided to accept an offer to visit the little town of Tisno, where I wound up having the best two days I’ve had since I joined the trip. And that never would have happened if I’d stayed, sweaty and sad, on the island of Vis.
I recently listed to the audiobook of The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck, by Sarah Knight, and I highly recommend it. It’s all about not giving a fuck about things you don’t actually care about so you have more fucks to give on the things that you do. This whole post is very much in line with that philosophy: when it comes to side trips, I need to do a better job going forward of allocating my fucks.
Yet Split is undeniably beautiful. While it shares some unfortunate Communist bloc architecture with Berlin and Belgrade, the ancient beauty of the old town with Diocletian’s Palace and the natural beauty of the coast shine through. 
truly do feel like you’re entering an ancient castle. We were instantly charmed. 
e started with scallops covered in flakes of black truffle, then had sea bass and tuna. The portions are relatively small, but the flavors are excellent. With dessert, we tried two of their signature cocktails. Our waiter served my whiskey-based drink in a teapot, and I was very. very. happy. 
Though Mostar was full of tourists, the country is in the early stages of tourism. You can still see some of the ruins from the war around town, and our guide was generally pessimistic about their recovery. I bought a few books to help me better understand, but I’m glad I was able to visit in person to gain some context. And I love these guided tours for solo travelers; it would have been difficult to replicate this experience on my own.
