"experience vild beauty"

is the current advertising campaign on CNN, BBC, and other channels, attempting to showcase Montenegro as the perfect place to vacation. I've been to Montenegro before (I wrote a piece in TangoDiva about it) with some girlfriends and since arriving on Friday afternoon, have been pondering whether I am indeed in the same place.

Leaving TASIS was different to what I had expected – no tears, no regrets, only a strange sense of relief, coupled with the comfortable knowledge that TASIS will always be a home for me, a place to return. That is a lucky feeling.

I think I finally let go of the professional frustrations of the past few years today. Lying on the back of a 30-foot yacht, floating in a turquoise cove, a soft breeze cooling the air – it all went away. This Montenegrin visit has been all rock star, all the time. I received a gift from one of my students' parents in March, inviting me for a week's holiday in their resort in Becici, near Budva. As we're heading to Ljubljana for a wedding next Thursday, this week between MSP and the wedding was free. We got picked up from the airport by Stefan and his father, and whisked in a posh SUV along the roads to the coast. The roads haven't changed at all – still all male drivers, still maddening passing 'lanes' – and the tiny villages along the main roads are still run-down, sun-baked and dilapidated. The sea glimmered through rocks and trees as we reached the seashore, and soon arrived at Becici, a town to the south of Budva that is home to numerous hotel and resort complexes.

This place is interesting. There are three large hotels, three swimming pools, a spa, numerous bars and cafes, a few tennis courts, beautiful landscaping and a clean stretch of beach. We've been put in a top floor corner room, with two balconies, a sitting room, satellite TV – it's bigger than my flat in Montagnola. I've never been to an all-inclusive anything, and it's pretty rockin'. You wear a plastic wristband and you do whatever you want. It's even better when you have a piece of paper from the owner (Stefan's dad) which says you get the best spot on the beach. We've been spoiled rotten so far.

There is an 'animation' team that creates various activities for the 1000-plus guests. Last night's madness was called "Celtic Pride" and Matt got to play the pipes for a rather dull crowd of 100 people or so. They had chosen about an hour's worth of Irish-sounding songs, and the 8 dancers put together a Riverdance-style show – parts of it were quite good, and other parts were extremely camp and entertaining. Afterward, we met up with a few of the dancers, very cool Tunesians, and they took us to Budva to a tiny, cramped bar that is owned by Nicos, one of the hotel managers. He's an interesting man, probably in his 50s, with a wife and child in Germany (he summers in Montenegro) and numerous tales of his adventures in various corners of the world. At one point, he told me that he had lived the ideal life, had no regrets, and loved his life – what statements! I only hope I have that outlook on life one day.

At one point, we saw a Vin Diesel-type outside the bar donning a Madonna-headset and dark glasses. He spoke a bit with Nicos, and we didn't think much of it until a bit later, when Matt was told that the guy was one of the Montenegrin president's bodyguards. Nicos wouldn't allow the president inside, as we were already there. Ha! He kicked out the president for us!

Then today, another gorgeous day. Stefan found us at lunch and said to meet him at 2 and we'd go out on the yacht. Um, yeah. Gorgeous, amazing day tolling around the crystal-clear Adriatic in a beautiful yacht.

So here's to free holidays. We're both getting stone massages tomorrow and going into Budva to check it out. Travelling rocks.

musings as the countdown begins

The looming leaving is beginning to take hold...every morning, I'm savouring the view from the red bench a litte bit more on my walk down to school, and noting the changes in the mood of the mountains surrounding Lake Lugano each moment I can catch a quick peek. Somehow I know these moods will haunt me once I have gone, the vast colours the sunlight casts on the peaks, the soft greens of thousands of trees, the harsh rock faces peeking through the foliage. During the day, nature dominates these mountains. It is difficult to imagine a place more beautiful, more harmonious. The sky and clouds merely mesh as background to the intensity of these massive hills. But as the sky fades and the colours change into bright pinks, lavenders, and oranges, man's attempt to tame the mountains around Lake Lugano begins to show. My favourite time is just before dusk, when the lights of towns creep up the hills, casting new light on these peaks. Funiclears run along the sides of Monte Bre and San Salvatore, a trophy to engineering conquering these steep hillsides. The lights stop abruptly, perhaps where man cannot build, or perhaps where man hasn't yet tried. The numerous cranes on the hillsides - 18 I count now - show man's determination. I like this juxtaposition of nature and man. There's a certain heart-stopping beauty to it.

Closure is possible because I'm returning, in a way. I first knew TASIS in the summertime, and now I am back in a comfort zone. The fat, three-inch beetles are back, taking their time as they cross the stones on my patio from plant to plant. The lizards are back, too, darting across well-worn paths along the hillside. Fuzzy honeybees buzz from flower to flower, burying their heads in Horst's creations. The greens are back, too - not the springtime greens in their fresh, light splendour, but the dark, rich summertime greens, happy to gleam in the sunshine and drink in the rain, confidently bursting with splashes of colour. Now, looking out onto the scooped peaks of Alpe Bolla, the rounded lump of Monte Bre, the triangular peak of a border mountain in Italy, and the lumpy mound of San Salvatore, I can hardly imagine a more beautiful place. There's a palm tree in my garden, proudly facing an Alp. Nature here is a confusing delight.

I'm starting to feel the sadness hit. This is inevitable, of course, and something I always push back into the depths of my brain. I've left a lot of places in the past decade. I've left some places on bad terms, some places bawling my eyes out on a train, others quickly shoving my things into boxes and hoping they arrive one day, some with parties and well-wishers. I'm not sure I will ever truly leave TASIS. This place has talons; perhaps it is Mrs. Fleming's commitment to the international aspect of education and its importance to any sort of future as human beings, perhaps it is the caliber of people it employs, but mostly it is the stunning, breathtaking view from the Collina d'Oro. Those of us who work here know we're a part of something special in an exceptional setting. We put up with its frustrations to be privvy to the majestic scenery.

I've lived next door to the place Herman Hesse wrote his most noteworthy stories. There is something very cool about that.