Review: ‘Under an Amber Sky’ PLUS the inspiring story behind The Grove, Montenegro

27th July 2017

Under an Amber Sky by Rose Alexander, novel set in Prcanj, near Kotor, Montenegro – plus the inspiring story behind The Grove, Montenegro.

“God used six days to make the earth and the seventh to make the Bay of Kotor”

The opening pages of the novel land with a punch. Sophie and Matt have been together for 15 years and Matt dies unexpectedly, which naturally throws Sophie into a deep period of mourning and loss. Where do you go, what do you do when you lose your partner at a relatively young age when the future should be opening up before you as a couple? Sophie’s friend Anna (with toddler Tomasz in tow)  whisks her off to Montenegro for a break, and in a snap decision it is there that Sophie decides she is going live.

She has even found a suitable – if somewhat run-down – little house, on the edge of the Bay of Kotor. Even the prospect of heading into Winter doesn’t diminish Sophie’s commitment to this new stage of life. She has to find a strength of character, away from her friends and family, but in some ways this is perfect for her to engage with the grieving process.

A discovery in her house of a letters between two people called Mira and Dragon during World War 2 leads her to seek out the help of Darko, who over several weeks translates the writing for her. It is a poignant exploration of the period under Italian occupation where many men were imprisoned on the island of Mamula, where deprivation and death was rife. The split narrative enables the author to delve into the amazing – and often violent and sad – history of Montenegro, from the Romans through the war, the great earthquake of 1979 when much of Kotor had to be rebuilt and to the war of the 1990s. Her characters tour from the Roman mosaics at Visan to Herceg Novi which is apparently the sunniest town in the country.

From her window, Sophie can see Mount Lovcen, the symbol of Montenegro. As she finds her feet in this new country, her experiences always come back to the loss of her husband, it seems as though she will never be able to move on. Frank soon appears in her life, an amiable rogue, who lodges with her in return for renovations to her house (and his appearance on the scene, his character and his quick move into her house feel like random factors that do not sit easily in the narrative).

Before long the Winter moves into summer (and the different seasons are very important in Montenegrin culture, as the author outlines at the beginning of the novel) and she soon finds herself surrounded by friends and supportive people.

This is a poignant and charming novel, about a group of people with Sophie at the heart, who are making their way in a beautiful, foreign country.  It is a delightfully described country in the novel, tiny “with a population not much greater than that of Glasgow” and after reading this, you will undoubtedly want to visit!

Tina for the TripFiction Team

And visit you can, we have found the most amazing hideaway with a fabulous background story. Three British brothers, and their friend Chris, saw the potential of a ruined property in Stari Bar which they renovated themselves, opened in May 2017 and today is a successful hostel. Over to Tom Quilliam who tells the story, of the “wild card” building and Youtube as their renovation educator…

‘Ne treba kesa, hvala.’  (discover below what this means!)

When we first saw The Grove together in 2015, the cicadas screeched, the figs filled the air with sweetness and the summer heat was exhausting. Chris, with his long limbs and floppy hat, released one of his stuttered, lengthy ‘wow’s. Sam, my brother, was excited but reserved. Collectively, we were utterly disgusted when we first saw the river that flows through our garden. Decades of dumping rubbish off the bridge had caused a back up of hundreds and hundreds of fetid bin bags, television sets, couches, rubble, oily paint cans, and dog food tins. From the bridge we saw a sinister water snake lounging on a rotting chipboard laminated desk.

Inside, the concrete beams holding the second floor up had failed, showing rusty reinforcement metal. Cobweb draped machinery stood, silent and powerful. For everything was big – massive wheels of stone, a 7 tonne pneumatic olive press, comically large cogs, 3m high storage vats, even a railway running the entire 120 ft length of the building. A rustling from the corner, a donkey appeared, followed by three others. One end of the building had been relegated to barn, complete with startled bats and a pile of rotting olive pulp. Upstairs, a room was filled with hay. A hedgehog looked up at us then continued snuffling.

The render was falling off, sunlight leaked through holes in the roof, and there were no windows. The front wall, 3 ft thick, 24 ft high, leaned forward, causing cracks on the side walls big enough to fit your arm through.

I originally came here to search for land for a campsite in 2014. It turned out that Montenegro doesn’t have much affordable, flat land. But on the last day of the property search I was shown this building as a wild card. It was expensive, and quite the project. Fast forward 1 year and the property had halved in price and the pound was strong. I emailed Chris with the title ‘A seed’. Almost immediately he responded ‘YES’ and booked tickets to meet us there.

The place is nestled amongst mountains, almost as tall as Lovcen, underneath the ruined city of Stari Bar (old Bar), next to olive groves, with trees that are centuries old. An Ottoman foot bridge crosses the property, over the now crystal clear waters of our river. It is wonderfully private and serene, though only a short walk from the restaurants and cafes of the Stari Bar main street.

Chris immediately understood the project – he knows hostels, and more importantly the people that frequent them, better than most. He could imagine the finished feeling, for that was what it was all about. Fuelled by our excitement and naivety Sam and Patrick, my brothers, and Chris bought the property, makeshift rubbish tip and all.

After a period of fundraising, we moved here in February 2016. We bought a 15 seater minibus in the UK, filled it with people and tools, and drove for 5 days from Newcastle to Stari Bar. We immediately got stuck in, clearing the land and the river whilst a demolition crew removed all the internal concrete. 3 months of hauling rubbish out of the water, and convincing neighbours that the river is perhaps not the best place to throw your plastic, we were left with a beautiful babbling stream. Once the concrete works were complete, we began building the internals using Youtube as our educator. We moved into the building in November 2016, and weathered the worst Winter in 100 years. 160 km/hour winds ruined the new roof, and water leaked in from everywhere. By Spring, things were slightly more civilised. We had rooms and a kitchen and even a toilet. Then all the family arrived to assist with the final finishing off before opening in May 2017.

It was a joyful time. Some of the happiest memories I imagine I will ever have. This merry band of friends and partners, living in a building site. People who had given up full time employment and city life to give themselves to the project. We were exhausted and highly stressed, but we were working towards a common goal. And now that is the reality. We welcome people from around the world into this eccentric bonkers place. From May-September we run as a hostel. Outside of that period the place is available to rent out for larger groups – it is perfect for yoga, writing, hiking or any other kind of group activity. Our communal room is like a cathedral, our bedrooms comfortable and quite special. The view of the mountains is spectacular, and the nature surrounding us never fails to bring joy.

Montenegro struggles with public services, the corrupt government has better ideas on how to spend the cash. The rubbish collection is infrequent and slapdash. The communal bins are always overflowing. I do not blame the locals for using the river as a dump – at least the refuse reliably appears to get washed away out of sight every winter when the river swells. Plastic consumption here is obscene. It is rude to not put every bit of shopping in a bag – even if you only purchase a pack of chewing gum. Our first sentence that we mastered was ‘Ne treba kesa, hvala’ – I do not need a carrier bag, thanks. This is usually followed by a confused scoff. We are the funny foreigners (stranci) who don’t use carrier bags.

We can sleep about 30 people, depending on requirements. We have a dippy pool, fire pit, tree house and even a stage. The old machine equipment is liberally strewn around the place – a large mechanical press is our fireplace, an old storage vat our pool. The old, riddled roof beams form our massive pergola, the ottoman carved flag stones make our patio. The house is made from stones from the ruined town above. Family crests from the venetian empire are carved into lintels. We found some huge rusty cannonballs in the river last week, their destiny is undecided. There is history everywhere, ignored by most. We love welcoming people and telling them about it all. After we have taught them how to say ‘Ne treba kesa, hvala.’

You can get in touch with the team at The Grove Montenegro and catch them on Facebook

Follow author Rose Alexander on Twitter

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