You've got to go there to come back...

For more six weeks on the road, we managed to combine the damned hard work of arsing our way across Europe with the shared public service of blogging about it. But since leaving Kosovo, a combination of birthdays, internet access, insane travel routes and our first posh hotel of the trip has made us drop the ball a bit. As we are flying to South America by way of New York in about three hours, we thought we should tie up some loose ends. So, by way of rounding things up...

A crazy overnight bus took us from Pristina to the beautiful Bay of Kotor in Montenegro, by way of the singularly uninteresting capital Podgorica (though this dirt cheap hotel should be added to the list of any budget traveller stranded in this bizarrely expensive city). Kotor's Old Town, nestled behind high walls flush against a stretch of crystal water, has to be experienced to be believed. Wonderfully preserved and bursting with cafes, shops and churches, it has yet to be colonised absolutely by tour groups. Having said that, at night the music from the bars is uniformly loud and atrocious, more resembling a high-end 18 to 30 break than a relatively undiscovered Adriatic gem. It was also in Kotor that we stayed in our first - and only - luxury hotel of the trip, with a night in the Five Star Hotel Forze Mar to celebrate Lou's birthday. In the unlikely event that you are passing by and fancy a night in a luxurious, if slightly eccentric, boutique hotel, go for this place. In a country that has started peddling naff "luxury" gaffs to Russian tourists while cutting corners and ruining coastline at every turn, Forze Mar is a real gem. The champagne on arrival, perfectly cooked Fillet Mignon and outdoor plunge pool were a few of the highlights. Those backpackers hitting town, though, could do far worse than stay in the delightful Eurocafe 33, a slightly more modest though equally charming set of digs opposite the Old Town, and run by the assistant coach to the national football team and his welcoming family.

Our time in Croatia was split (no pun intended) either side of four days in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The three days we spent in Dubrovnik were pleasant enough, with a comfy home stay room at Nina's guesthouse (find her on Hostelbookers), and an enthralling few hours spent in the quietly majestic War Photo Limited gallery, which was worth the trip in itself. The city beach was small but fun, and the Old Town itself bursting with tastefully restored architecture and pride after the Serb/Montenegrin shelling during the dark days of the Balkans conflict. Sadly, it's also bursting with overpriced, average restaurants, flag waving tour groups and annoying flashpackers who wouldn't know a hostel if it jumped out of Daddy's wallet and bit them on the arse. Worth a day trip, with an early start if possible to avoid the crowds, but I found it all a bit too much. By way of balance, I should point out that Lou was not quite as underwhelmed as I was.

By stark contrast, the three days we spent in Mostar and Sarajevo were an experience that we'll never forget, and one that Lou will write about more fully soon. From the rebuilt bridge in Mostar to the heart-wrenching museum on Sarajevo's 'sniper alley', the achingly effective tunnel museum near Sarajevo's airport to the glittering array of places to eat, drink and smoke hooka  in the capital, Bosnia and Herzegovina was possibly the highlight of our travels so far. I'll leave it to Lou to tell the story more fully next time we have an internet connection.

After a few days back in Croatia on Hvar island (every bit as beautiful as people say) in a cracking little Sobe, we headed to Italy for a week with friends and family. We ended up taking an eleven hour overnight bus from Split to Trieste after a slight problem with ferries - namely, there weren't any. The journey took in three countries, the most intense electrical storm I've ever seen, the bus nearly aquaplaning off the road while the driver ate and ice cream, and a toilet stop at a bookies full of sleeping tramps at 5am. Happy days. A seven hour collection of train journeys across Italy, then an overnight stay in a Shining-style hotel in Rimini airport due to an exploding car, and we finally made it to the stunning Marche region of Italy, staying in the equally wonderful Cassa Delle Querce (owned, I should say in the interests of honesty, by Lou's Dad). Even after the seven weeks on the road, travelling through some of the most amazing scenery and eating some of the best food of our lives, a week in this undiscovered part of Italy was a real treat. The food, history, scenery and wildlife are just magnificent, trumping neighbouring Tuscany on every level. It also has no annoying Brits and costs about half the price of a stay in its more famous neighbour. The fact that we spent it with our folks and two good mates was the cherry on the cake.

Perhaps the most bizarre part of the trip so far, though, was arriving back into a rainy London for the briefest of pit stops two days ago, in advance of our flight out to South America later today. In town just long enough to get drunk with Lou's sister and boyfriend, get muddy in a park with our niece Besti and my sister Lily, and see David Miliband make way for his brother Ed, it's all been a bit mental. As is the fact that, a few hours from now, we'll be on a Virgin Atlantic flight to New York, before heading to Ecuador for three months of South American madness. Suppose I should go and pack...

TTFN,

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Luke)