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For me, Montenegro, whose name means “Black Mountain,” has always evoked the
fratricidal chaos of a bygone age. I think of a time when fathers in the Balkans taught
their sons that “your neighbor's neighbor is your friend” in anticipation of future sectari-
an struggles. When, for generation after generation, so-and-so-ovich was pounding on so-
and-so-ovich (in Slavic names, “-ovich” means “son,” like Johnson), a mountain strong-
hold was worth the misery.
My recent visit showed me that this image is now dated, the country is on an upward
trajectory, and many expect to see Montenegro emerging as a sunny new hotspot on
the Adriatic coastline. International investors (mostly from Russia and Saudi Arabia) are
pouring money into what they hope will become their very own Riviera.
A zigzag road leads high above the Bay of Kotor to the historic capital of Montenegro.
Unfortunately, when rich people paste a glitzy facade onto the crumbling infrastruc-
ture of a poor country that isn't ready for it, you get a lot of pizzazz with no substance. I
stayed at a supposedly “designer” hotel that, at first glance, felt so elite and exclusive that
I expected to see Idi Amin poolside. But the hotel, open just a month, was a comedy of
horrible design. I felt like I was their first guest ever. My bathroom was far bigger than
many European hotel rooms, but the toilet was jammed in the corner. I had to tuck up
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