As summer draws to a close, marked by extremely high temperatures, it seems to have shown us more clearly than ever the different faces of the same country. And perhaps this season will force us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves: in the race for square metres, stars and “records”, have we managed to preserve what makes us who we are?
Once again, summer pushed us to the limits of endurance. The coast went through its familiar seasonal emotional cycle: the fear of April and May and the eternal question, “where are the guests?”, followed by July, when those limits of endurance were tested by airports, roads, beaches and – wallets. August once again reminded us what mass tourism really means, while September should flow into the post-season… But perhaps more important than counting guests and overnight stays is the question of who is coming to us today and what that guest expects from us. The modern traveller no longer wants to pay for the illusion of luxury. They are looking for meaning. They are increasingly less impressed by a polished façade, a large logo or a price that is supposed to serve as proof of exclusivity in itself. What we offer as luxury, they often already have where they come from. They travel precisely in search of what they do not have – and to take a break from what they have too much of at home. Northern Montenegro quietly captured travellers’ attention this summer and became the silent winner of the season.
We did not gain many new large hotels there – unfortunately. But something else was developing in parallel. Many people who owned land, an old house or that precious Montenegrin sense of “family roots up north” began to look differently at what they had. Small accommodation properties, rural households, cabins, katuns and ethno villages began to emerge. What until yesterday may have seemed like a place to leave is now becoming a place others want to visit. The values of the villages our ancestors once left in search of an easier life are once again gaining value. A simple, but by no means easy, rural life has become a luxury for the guest arriving “from down south”.
But the large influx of visitors to the north is also, let us be honest, a new test for us. We should charge appropriately for what has value, but not go too far – and we know how to do that. Too often, we behave as though tomorrow does not exist, without the patience to build value for the long term.
MONTENEGRO IS NOT AN EITHER–OR. Perhaps the most important lesson of this summer is that Montenegro can no longer be viewed as a south that earns and a north waiting for its turn. The north is no longer waiting. And right there in our north is a place that seems as though nature created it to explain this entire story to us. Šavnik – the town of two dawns. Because of its distinctive terrain, in the days around the equinox the sun rises there in the morning behind Kravica Hill, then at around 2 p.m. disappears behind Gradac, leaving the town briefly in shadow. Afterwards, the sun’s rays once again break through the Bukovica River Canyon and illuminate Šavnik for a second time, before the sun finally sets behind Mount Vojnik. It is as though nature, after the first dusk, gives the town one more chance at light. And perhaps Šavnik offers us the best tourism lesson of this summer. One day can have two dawns, but the sun is the same. Just as Montenegro does not have two forms of tourism – one by the sea and another in the north. It has one country that we still need to learn how to offer as a whole. The sea without the mountains is only half the story. The mountains without the sea are as well. And between them lies the heart of the fruit. Only together – that is Montenegro. The second dawn is not a second sun. It is simply another chance to see the same light differently.