Step by Step Across Borders

Daily miles: 30.78 | Total miles: 12,564.17

The alarm rang. Cold coffee. Organizing my things. I tossed another worn-out pair of shoes — a small farewell to miles already lived. I carried everything downstairs and packed the buggy.

Edona asked if I’d like a coffee before leaving. Of course I did. A quick espresso. Simple. Perfect.

When I stepped outside, it was overcast, cool, and dry — good conditions to begin the day. As always in the morning, I felt that quiet nervousness. And today, a border crossing lay ahead.

I ran back the way I had entered town yesterday, then turned right over the river. Above me, a road sign pointed toward Zagreb, Vienna, Berlin. Seeing those names lifted my spirits. It reminded me that almost any place can be reached — no matter how far away — if you go step by step, mile by mile, day by day.

A man walked toward me and asked about my run. “Bravo, bravo,” he said. I smiled widely and continued over the bridge.

I enjoyed the final miles in Albania, reflecting on the past days. Small villages. Men waving. Smiles exchanged. Just before the border, I paused briefly — one deep breath in, one deep breath out — breathing in Albanian air one last time before moving on.

The border itself was colorful and surprisingly relaxed. The officers were kind and even playful. I couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it would be if all border crossings felt this light.

At the crossing, a man joked that if I had enough money, I could become one of his wives. I laughed and kept moving. Shortly after, I met a young man selling insurance who helped me with navigation.

And then — just like that — I was in Montenegro.

It felt wonderful to cross yet another border on foot. Another country. Another chapter.

I met Nesim. Then Toni in a bakery when I stopped to ask for directions. He spoke German and had once worked in a bakery near where I live. “Ah, you worked where the rich people live,” I said with a smile. We both laughed.

My path led uphill. The fog slowly turned into drizzle, then rain. Sheep grazed ahead of me. The road was under construction in parts — gravel, mud, uneven ground. A strong wind picked up, and I began to feel the cold.

Then came the descent. Steep. With rain pouring down, the roads turned into small creeks, puddles filling quickly. By the time I reached the coastal road toward Bar, trucks splashed water over me as they passed. Some drivers seemed to enjoy soaking me completely. But once you’re fully wet, it hardly matters anymore. I simply close my eyes and keep moving.

There were tunnels, too. I put on my headlamp and stayed close to the side — though the mud there was so slippery it felt like ice skating. For a moment, I imagined I was at the Olympics, performing elegant Bielmann pirouettes, flying gracefully through the air.

Reality was less elegant — but just as memorable.

By the time I reached Bar, I was soaked and chilled. I went grocery shopping and then searched for a room. It took a while, but eventually I found one where I could finally warm up. There’s a heater that might take the edge off. A blanket. Extra layers for the night.

I showered in lukewarm water. And for dinner, I ate the sandwich Fadjola had prepared for me this morning — tomato, cucumber, feta. It tasted perfect.

Another country. Another 30 miles. Still moving forward.

Thanks for checking in. Andrea