August used to be the best month for me. As everything would grind to a halt and most people would escape to the coast, I would enjoy wandering around scorchingly hot but blissfully empty Belgrade (and before that London and for one summer each Ljubljana and Athens). If I were to travel somewhere, I would feel pangs of regret as I would be missing out on the fun at home: going to the pool, hanging out with friends who stayed in the city and just for deciding to trade the chill times for more hectic sightseeing and hassle of travel.
Of course, as ever, I should have been careful what I wished for: now that travel options from Belgrade are severely restricted I look longingly over the photos of my past sea-side holidays, dearest of which were on the Med, whether in Montenegro when I was a kid, a or bit further afield a bit later in life.
This is not to say that being at home for one summer is bad: it actually made me think why I had an almost compulsive need to travel and how the idea of travel was baked into the “value proposition” of Millennial life in the West and Serbia. How we were sold the trade off between past stability, home ownership and sense of rootedness for experiences and cool snaps as something awesome, which it might not exactly be (but more on that, hopefully later). To be honest, given that I don’t think that half of my great-grandparents ever “holidayed” and have suffered much worse things than not travelling when and where they wanted (as do 80% of the world population), I almost find my maudlin musing over travels past in a bit of a bad taste.
Alas, here are some of the highlights, over the past few years of gorgeous places in the world’s best sea, the Med. I guess memories are there to be savoured…