The old town of Budva in Montenegro. Photo / Getty Images
Montenegro may be small, but it packs a punch, writes Mary Lambie
Montenegro was not on my travel bucket list. I never knew enough about this small Balkan state to have formed any opinion about it at all. I knew (dimly) that its coast was on the Adriatic Sea, with Croatia to the north and Albania to the south. That was it, the sum total of my knowledge.
That changed this year. I have a long-time friend who, on a whim 20 years ago, bought a rustic, two-bedroom house in the quaint seaside resort of Risan. She wanted a bolthole away from her hectic London life. Initially, there was a flurry of visits and a renovation of the relic, and then she basically ignored it for a decade. In July she decided it was time to renew acquaintance, and invited me along.
In 2004, the purchase of the house always made sense: a three-hour flight from Heathrow into Dubrovnik, then grab a rental at the airport, drive south 20km to the Croatia-Montenegro border, then push on down the scenic Bay of Kotor road into Risan (population 1800). Door to door, five hours tops.
In 2024, we landed in Dubrovnik and discovered there was an eight-hour wait to get across the border. No one quite knew why. Possible reasons included peak summer traffic, limited border control lanes on the Croatian side, vague political hostilities between the two countries — who knows? I do know it was torture being in a queue that seemed to stretch to infinity in 38C. Some people in the queue had endured a 12-hour wait the previous day, only to give up and return for another dose of punishment. No country seemed worth waiting for like this.
Too late we discovered you can take a ferry from Dubrovnik to Budva in Montenegro during the summer season that takes only a couple of hours. Memo to self for next time.
Montenegro (meaning black mountains) is a small country with roughly the same land mass as outer reaches of the Auckland region. It’s home to about 600,000 people. Native Montenegrins account for about half the population, with the rest a melting pot of Serbs and Bosnians, Albanians and Croats. There’s about 300km of coastline and (remarkably) four national parks. Although you hear the country is yet to be fully discovered by tourists, English and European tourists are flooding there in droves. The economy is based on fishing, agriculture, forestry and the service sector, with tourism accounting for a quarter of the country’s GDP.
Once we eventually crossed the border it felt liberating to rev the car and belt down the coastal road to Risan. It’s windy, and narrow in parts, but the landscape is deeply dramatic with the rugged mountains of Durmitor a dominating feature, and small, coastal touristy resorts that look out into Kotor Bay. The road passes through the main tourist towns of Risan, Perast, Dobrota and eventually into Kotor.
Risan is the oldest town in the bay. It is very small, with little input from contemporary architects. The traditional stone houses, some up to 300 years old, are packed into the side of a hill to take advantage of magnificent views across the bay. The only concession to modernity is a two-storeyed hotel being built. There are a couple of restaurants and a small supermarket and that’s about it.
Further around the bay the old town in Kotor is a Unesco World Heritage site, a remarkably preserved medieval walled city with narrow winding streets, plenty of churches, piazzas and fortifications. Some of the buildings in the old town have been converted to house restaurants, retail and accommodation to serve the thousands of people who visit each year. An option for the energetic tourist is to climb 1350 steps from the old town to the Kotor Fortress, with the reward of spectacular views. We opted for the recently opened Kotor cable car (built by Germans), which climbs 1300m above sea level in 11 minutes. It seemed the sensible option given the heat. The bay was crowded with small boats, superyachts and massive cruise ships. A small maritime museum pays tribute to the area’s rich seafaring history and is worth a visit.
Heading further south you arrive at Budva, the most popular tourist destination. The road there winds well above the Montenegrin coastline and the views of the Adriatic are stunning. Tiny islands dot the glittering sea, some human-made, others natural. There are islands with only one church on them, and on the larger ones you can spy clusters of orange-roofed houses. One (Sveti Stefan) is connected to the mainland by a narrow shingle causeway. It was a fortress in the 15th century; now it’s a luxury hotel complex that only paying guests can access.
Budva itself has pebbled beaches, a very popular old town that is a showcase of more than 2500 years of history, with cobbled streets, cafes and boutiques. The midday timing of our arrival was terrible — we encountered a slew of tourist coaches that forced us to park illegally, and we were consequently towed. It cost $400 to retrieve the car from the police compound.
The food here has a strong Mediterranean flavour: fish, shellfish, olives, fresh green salads, pizzas, pasta, fruits and bread (white, unfortunately). As the region becomes more and more popular, food prices reflect the demand, so it’s not cheap but not out-of-reach expensive. We found no zero-alcohol beers. “What’s the point of that?” said one waiter. Decaf coffee is likewise non-existent.
For those with time, residents advise to head inland. The Durmitor National Park is an outdoor adventurer’s paradise full of canyons, lakes, mountains and forests.
Montenegro may be small, but it packs a punch. It would pay to head there during the shoulder season to beat the crowds and the heat. There’s plenty to do for the adventurous, from water sports to exploring canyons. Equally, you could just laze beside the sea. It feels safe, the roads are well maintained, the residents friendly, and it isn’t ridiculously expensive.