We Were Chasing the Adventure of a Lifetime – then Family Tragedy Hit

Our second year of full-time travel

We started the year in Malta, which was a breath of fresh air after our somewhat grim month of COVID lockdown in Istanbul. Malta is a tiny country with a population of less than half a million on a small but spectacular island in the Mediterranean. 

We loved Malta for the sunshine and glorious cliffside hiking, and for all the layers of history to discover. The capital city of Valletta, dating back to the 1500s, is just magnificent, and its cathedral, built by the Knights of St John, was one of the most lavish that I’ve seen. Since tourism was at an all-time low due to COVID, I had the opportunity to appreciate the cathedral — the country’s greatest treasure — all by myself. 

We were interested in exploring the cuisine of Malta — it was an intriguing mix of Sicilian, North African and British influences — but the price tag for dining out quickly convinced us to stick with home cooking. Malta is not an ideal destination for the budget traveler. Our very stylish Airbnb in the sought-after town of Sliema was only affordable because it was both the off season and a pandemic. 

Throughout this time, and all the previous months of travel, I talked to my mother almost every day. My job was to share amusing anecdotes from my wanderings through foreign lands and hopefully provide a distraction from her ongoing chemo treatments. 

During our calls, I picked up rumblings that her cancer recovery wasn’t going as well as we’d hoped. Then one day the rumblings turned into a very loud alarm bell. The chemo wasn’t working and my mom had taken a very sudden and dramatic turn for the worse. 

I had to get home and it had to happen immediately. The only problem is that we were on a small European island during the height of COVID restrictions with two small dogs and limited flight options. Getting home wasn’t going to be easy but we had no choice.

A sad and stressful homecoming

Charting a route from an island in the middle of the Mediterranean all the way to North America at the height of the COVID pandemic turned out to be a formidable task. By this point in the pandemic, airlines had given up all but their most essential routes; the pickings were slim. Moreover, we wouldn’t be able to fit in an overnight layover to give the dogs a break from air travel. There was not one country between Malta and Canada that would allow non-residents to step foot on their soil beyond the airport terminal. 

We’d have to book it all with one airline and do it as a continuous journey. After hours on the phone with multiple airlines, we finally had a path home: Malta to Frankfurt to Montreal to Toronto. 

We shelled out for the most expensive COVID test of our travels; avoided all human contact while we packed up our Airbnb; and then we were off for our marathon journey. The only saving grace was that airlines were selling business class seats at almost the same price as economy; after all, the lounges were closed and the in-flight meals were packaged. 

In Toronto, after waiting 45 minutes at an empty baggage carousel, we accepted the fact that our luggage containing all our worldly possessions was lost somewhere in transit. All we had as we headed into two weeks of quarantine in Gillian’s parent’s basement were the clothes on our backs and two exhausted poodles. 

I won’t go into great details about the subsequent months as it’s still a difficult topic. Suffice it to say that the entire focus of my life narrowed to caring for my mother and, at some point, our efforts shifted from helping her get better to helping her become more comfortable. 

I’m deeply grateful that we were able to care for her in her own home while COVID raged on in the hospitals and that we were all together when the moment came. My mother was my best friend and the loss was just tremendous.  

Starting over in Serbia

After closing out the worst period of our lives, we were eventually ready to travel again. Of course, we were still feeling absolutely devastated but desperately needed a distraction. At that time, nothing was more distracting than researching destinations and booking flights. 

We knew we wanted to position ourselves in eastern Europe; all our research told us that this was a region where the slow traveler could live cheap and live large. After months of cheerless lockdown in Toronto, we were ready to at least enjoy a meal and a drink on a patio again. 

We started with a month in Belgrade, Serbia. We found a stylish, reasonably-priced apartment close to the pedestrianized historic centre; the large and leafy Kalemegdan Park; and the Sava River. In short, an outstanding spot for a scenic evening stroll in any direction. Belgrade, it turns out, is a truly lovely city. 

We may have done well with the location but, once again, we completely failed with our choice of season. In case you’re wondering, Belgrade is baking hot in August. Just like Athens, we found ourselves trying to enjoy the city’s amenities in the morning and evening, and sticking close to the apartment’s air conditioner during the rest of the day.

Fortunately, as anticipated, the low cost of living in Belgrade translated into an instant lift in our lifestyle. Suddenly we were dining out as much as we wanted to, bouncing between classic Serbian eateries and bougie avo-and-toast restaurants.  

I wish I could say that the distraction of travel worked. I was at a point in my grieving process where anything that reminded me of my mother would make me burst into tears. Since everything I looked at reminded me of her — even in completely unfamiliar Serbia —  I was pretty much always on the verge of tears. 

But we kept going. Our next stop took us out of busy Belgrade to a lesser-known gem in northern Serbia.

Won over by charming Novi Sad

If we liked Belgrade, we absolutely loved Novi Sad. This small, quiet city in northern Serbia was exactly the rest stop we needed. It’s a fraction of the size of Belgrade but still offers a lovely pedestrianized historic centre and great dining.

We enjoyed long morning walks beside the Danube river; shopping for local produce in the farmer’s market; wandering through the old town; and winding our way up to Petrovaradin Fortress for a wonderful view of the city. 

Novi Sad is also an excellent jumping off point for regional excursions. We combined our favourite activities into one glorious day when we hiked through Fruska Gora, a national park; visited the charming Rakovac monastery, one of many hidden away in the park; and tucked into a farm-to-table feast at a local winery — including generous pours of rakija, the local spirit. 

We were also impressed by our visit to the city of Subotica, most famous for its spectacular collection of art nouveau buildings. This is one for the architecture buffs. Since this city is right on the border with Hungary — and, in fact, was part of Austria-Hungary until WW1 — our lunch had a decidedly Hungarian influence with a hearty helping of goulash

Of course, the highlight from our month in Novi Sad had to be the weekend brunch for just $4 USD at the local eatery across from our Airbnb. This was a cosy restaurant festooned with vintage bric-a-brac and featuring an expansive buffet of traditional farmhouse cooking. It was a challenge not to go back for a 4th or 5th helping.

Fortunately, we didn’t need to worry about overindulging because our next stop was going to push us to our limits. We were heading to the Accursed Mountains in Albania.    

Pushing ourselves to the limit in Albania

One of our dreams when we set out on our four-year adventure was to bag as many epic hikes as possible. We’d already hiked Kilimanjaro, the Tour Mont Blanc and Everest Base Camp, and were ready for more. Of course, we weren’t carting two little poodles around for any of those adventures.

We had a lesser-known trek in our sights: a circuit called Peaks of the Balkans that wound its way 120 km through the mountains of Albania, Kosovo and Montenegro. We debated going it alone but read too many blog posts of hikers getting lost even with GPS. 

Instead, our party of four signed up for a group trek. When we met our guides and fellow trekkers in the city of Shkodër; most were bemused that we had brought along our handbag-sized dogs for a nine-day hike.  And then we were off. The group squeezed into a minivan with fewer seats than people and then had what could only be described as a lurching, vomitous three-hour drive through the backroads to get to the trailhead. 

While the hike itself was as challenging as promised; the scenery was even more awe-inspiring than expected. It was exciting to be on trails that had yet to be discovered by international tourists. We stayed in rustic lodgings in the evenings, usually with minimal hygiene facilities (e.g. two overworked toilets for a couple dozen people) but always with hearty meals and good cheer.

That said, we quickly discovered that we’d taken on a lot by bringing the dogs. We always had to hike at the back of the group since the dogs needed to go at their own pace. If it was raining, windy, too hot, or too steep — and it was very often at least one of these — we had to carry the dogs so that they wouldn’t become overly exhausted. They may be small but they still feel heavy after a couple hours.

Was it worth it? Absolutely. Would we do it again? Actually, we already have. Since then, those surprisingly tough little dogs have hiked with us all over the world and hopefully there are many more hikes to come.  

Wining and dining in Tirana

Once we had finished hauling ourselves and two poodles across the mountains of the Balkans for nine days, we were ready to crash. We booked ourselves into an Airbnb in Tirana for the month with an agenda of eating, sleeping and recovering.

We had mixed feelings about Tirana. On one hand, dining out couldn’t get much more affordable. We ate one or two meals out a day — bouncing from local grillhouse to pizzeria to high-end dining — and still had room in our budget. Tirana also had some charming corners: an expansive downtown Grand Park; the remnants of a historic centre; and the relatively affluent neighbourhood of Blloku filled with stylish restaurants and shops. 

However, the city was also bursting with traffic, noise, and more bustle than we had seen for weeks. Tirana is very much a city in development; many of the apartment buildings were either half built or half falling apart. Brand name businesses were few and far between; more commonly we saw second hand clothing stores and mom and pop shops. It probably didn’t help that our lovely apartment was situated over what we thought was a quiet, tree-lined canal but turned out to be a major artery for the city. 

We made the best of it, of course. We checked out Bunk’Art 1 and 2, two nuclear bunkers that have since been converted to museums exploring Albania’s authoritarian past. We toured Skanderbeg Square, Tirana’s wildly massive main plaza at 40,000 square metres, and checked out the adjacent 18th-century mosque and 21st-century Orthodox church (both stunning buildings). 

We took a cable car up Mount Dajti, apparently the longest cable car ride in the Balkans at 15 minutes (picture me white knuckling it all the way). When we arrived at the top, we swung right at an abandoned hotel and then hiked for an hour to get a spectacular and blissfully quiet view of the region. 

Quiet days by the Mediterranean

After a month of city vibes in Tirana, we were ready for a change of pace. We rented a car and made our way south across the mountains to the coastal city of Saranda, yet another lesser-known destination just waiting to become popular with international tourists.

We chose Saranda for its sea views and balmy temperatures. Chilly autumn had arrived in the rest of Albania but we could still enjoy long walks on the waterfront promenade in Saranda. That said, I wouldn’t recommend intentionally spending November in a Mediterranean beach town. 

As soon as we arrived, we noticed that, one by one, many of the restaurants closed for the season.  What was left were the restaurants serving locals; we quickly discovered where to go for a simple pizza or calamari with fries — that was largely the extent of our dining out for our entire stay. And the lovely waterfront promenade became a little too quiet as the weeks rolled by.

Fortunately, Saranda had a lot more to offer. Two of the country’s most epic sites are an easy day trip away. First we explored the Roman ruins of Butrint, Albania’s most significant archeological site. Once again, we had the opportunity to wander through a major historic site and have the whole place to ourselves.

Then there’s Gjirokaster, a beautifully preserved city from the Ottoman era, complete with a mountaintop castle. We particularly enjoyed a homestyle meal in a tucked-away restaurant where we were treated to an informal performance of traditional iso-polyphony singing by a group of locals. 

Generally, we really enjoyed our time in Albania. It was certainly less developed versus the other places we’ve visited in Europe. The rustic experiences that we enjoyed might be considered a little too rustic for some. But Albania won points for offering what we personally value in a destination: an authentic cultural experience well off the international tourist trail. 

A graceless entry into Spain

Our next challenge was to get from Saranda on the coast of Albania all the way to Valencia, Spain. We packed up and exited our Airbnb; realized that we had locked ourselves out with Gillian’s phone still somewhere inside; waited for the host to show up with a key; and, finally, we were on our way. 

The drive back to Tirana took all day and most of the evening; we were still exhausted when we boarded our pre-dawn flight out of Albania. Unfortunately, the plane was delayed and our tight connection in Frankfurt became even tighter. After a breathless run through the airport — dogs bouncing in their carriers — we managed to catch the flight. Sadly, our luggage didn’t make it. 

And that’s how we arrived in the beautiful city of Valencia: two dogs, a few essentials in our backpacks, and not enough clothing to keep warm in the December chill. 

We shivered our way through a glass of wine and an early dinner on a patio — the dogs functioning as lap warmers — and tucked in for the night wearing assorted exercise wear that Gillian had bought from the local mall. Occasionally a life of travel is very glamorous but this was not one of those days.

Fortunately, none of this managed to take the shine off our experience in Valencia. Between the food, history and culture, there was so much on offer. We visited the impressive Cathedral of Valencia; peeked into the ceramics museum housed in an 18th-century baroque palace; walked through Turia Park; went mural-spotting in the side streets of El Carmen. I tried my hand at making paella in a cooking class; Gillian rented a bike and cruised through the stunning City of Arts and Sciences complex. 

Then there was the food. Toast with grated tomato at breakfast; bocadillos for a mid-morning snack; churros and chocolate in the early afternoon; tapas a little later. Our fridge was always bursting with goodies from the famous Valencia central market. 

That brought us to the end of a very challenging 2021, hoping for better days in the coming year. 

Read the next instalment.