On the border
I AM DRIVING across the border from Croatia into Montenegro with Djordie, my guide, and Josef, the driver of this small, slightly ramshackle car. Djordie is young, early 20s, and I can tell he hasn’t been guiding very long. As we are driving along and he sees something of note to point out, he indicates it by almost yelling at me, “Ann! Pay attention!” Startled, I sit up and gaze out the window at a government building, a church, an elementary school.
Djordie told me he isn’t licensed to guide in Croatia, only in Montenegro, so if we are questioned by the border police, we have to say we are all old friends. He concocts a story as to why an American woman would be friends with two Montenegrin guys, one of whom, Josef, speaks no English.
“We met when we were all working on a cruise ship together,” Djordie says, coaching me for the lie I will tell the border officials. That was how he became friends with Josef in the first place. “So,” Djordie asks, “Where were you working on the cruise ship?” “Uh, I was a server at the breakfast buffet?” I offer hesitantly. “No!” Djordie says emphatically. “Americans are never servers on cruise ships. You worked in – – guest relations!” Okay, I think, I’ve been promoted to management.
Djordie decides Josef was in maintenance and he himself worked the cigar bar. He grills me to make sure I will remember if I am questioned at the border. “Maintenance, guest relations, cigar bar. Cigar bar, guest relations, maintenance,” I repeat out loud, until Djordie is satisfied that I have it memorized.
We approach the border checkpoint and Djordie leans against his window, pretending to sleep, occasionally opening one eye to monitor the situation. The guard raps on the driver’s side. Josef rolls down the window, hands him our three passports, answers some questions. I stare straight ahead, thinking, “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” The guard looks inside, peers at me, flips through the passports, hands them back and motions us onward. Whew!
I tell Djordie that today, right now, Montenegro is my 100th country visited! He is delighted that his country marks that milestone. He plugs his phone into the car radio and loudly plays Sweet Caroline through the speakers to celebrate. Djordie, Josef and I enthusiastically sing along to that classic song, a favorite of friendly gatherings everywhere:
SWEET CAROLINE! DOO DOO DOO! GOOD TIMES NEVER SEEMED SO GOOD!