Wanderlusting: I travel, I write, I laugh

My red motorbike helmet matches my red Russian boots. Mount SRD in Dubrovnik is overwhelming; I am not sure our little motorbike has the power to make it to the top.

My boyfriend motions for me to hop on and I do, squeezing him too tightly around the waist. “Let's try not to die!” I yell into the wind and his ear.

We begin our slow ascent. Locals on much more powerful bikes grin at us as they pass us by. They are pretty sure our little bike will never make it to the top.

The Beauty in the Struggle
We almost didn't make it to Dubrovnik. We were told there were ferries to and from each island every day. This was not true.

We could catch a bus from Korcula to Dubrovnik, if we woke up in time. At 5am, we arrived at the bus station in darkness to learn the only bus was full. We jumped at the chance to share a taxi with random couples. The taxi driver was as reckless as we expected, speeding and singing along with “Old Man Croatian Rap.” We clutched onto the door handles and seats while drinking in the breathtaking views.

Walking Along the Fortress
The enchanting Old Town is surrounded by high stone walls. There are windows within the walls, and through each window is a perfect postcard scene.

I see laundry rainbows everywhere. Outside their apartments, locals hang colourful bras, underwear, and bedsheets.

Families place their freshly washed cutlery out the window in a make-shift flower bed.

More perfect postcards: the church, fountain, souvenir shops, cafes, apartments, shiny cobblestones, hundreds of stairs, the ocean.

One side of the harbour is a pretty mess of multicoloured boats, capsized in the sand.

The darker brown rooftops are the ones that survived. Sadly, the bright orange ones are much more plentiful, signifying the roofs that had to be replaced after the war.

A Room with a View
The view from our room is also pretty hard to beat.

We are staying with a local family. They don't speak much English, but their hospitality is grand. They offer us a glass of red wine upon arrival.

Our room is not big, but it is beautiful and immaculate. Grape vines tangle and weave underneath our stunning balcony view. We look down upon the Old Town and its walls, the ocean, magical islands, and the dots of people.

All for under a hundred dollars Australian a night.

Life at the Top
It is devastatingly lovely and somber. The beauty of nature and gorgeous architecture mingles with bulleted and bombed out buildings. The Old Town lays quietly below. A huge cross is re-resurrected amongst the exquisite damage. Looking away from the ocean, goats chomp away at grass and the golden mountains of Bosnia and Herzegovina brood in the distance.

I ride the motorbike by myself for the first time. Only my boyfriend and the goats are watching, and I feel free.