One summer night in Montenegro

In my travels, I’ve met a great variety of people.

I suppose, it’s only been recently that I started to appreciate more the lessons I receive with each and every encounter on my way.

When I was younger, in my 20s, traveling was a way of gaining experiences, crazy adventures, meeting people my age and enjoying all life pleasures.

With time, the discussions turned deeper, social circles smaller and experiences changed from purely physical to more metaphysical and spiritual. Each travel was a chance to re-discover myself, re-invent the broken parts and re-connect to my inner voice.

I have this memory on my mind. For some reason it just came to my mind while I was thinking about things at random.

It was my last night in Podgorica, Montenegro. After an intensive day of sightseeing and walking, together with some people I met through a website for travelers, we decided to sit at a bar and get some refreshments. In the meantime, we gathered some more wanderers and ended up on a really cosy street with lovely restaurants. We picked one and sat outside as the weather was just perfectly warm and inviting.

The group collected people from many different countries; an Australian who took a long holiday before deciding on the next step of his life path back in his homeland, an English boy traveling during his gap year. He got rejected at university and instead of choosing another studies, he decided to wait one year and try his luck again as he knew already that what he’d chosen was THIS thing he wanted to pursue. He traveled across the Balkans, learnt some Serbian to be able to communicate better with the locals. What amazed me in him was his sensitivity, calmness and maturity at such a young age. He recounted many stories he heard from the local people; the stories of freedom, wars, conflicts, open wounds that don’t really want to heal, yet so huge generosity coming from the people he spent time with.

I particularly remember two Asian men who were sitting next to me. They presented themselves as friends, however, I had the feeling that the younger one did take advantage of his older, calmer friend. I talked mostly with the second. He turned out to be a businessman, can’t really remember what country exactly he came from, maybe China, maybe Korea, maybe Hong Kong. I can’t recollect his name either. It doesn’t really matter, though, as I remember this man so clearly, his purity and modesty and this peacefulness that emanated from the timbre of his voice.

Our discussion moved from professional to more personal topics. His friend happened to have some heartbreak with a girlfriend. He seemed quite upset with her and complained about the whole situation.

I turned to the second man and asked about his love life. His face saddened a bit while he told me that he, too, had a complicated story. He was married, but didn’t live with his wife. She left him for another man. She felt burnt out in their marriage and needed a change. But they didn’t decide to divorce for some reasons.

I asked how he felt about that, and why he agreed on that.

“I love her, he replied.

“And I want her to be happy, because I love her. I couldn’t force her to stay while she wanted to go. And I’m happy that she’s happy now, even if it means without me.”

He got rewarded by the Universe for such an attitude, his business was going great, he could travel the world, gain new experiences.

That night, at that table in that restaurant in the Balkans, I witnessed the most beautiful confession of true, unconditional love I could ever hear in my life. And it moved me tonight as much as it moved me back then.

© Lusessita Kingsley 2020

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