The Cats of Kotor

 Kotor, Montenegro, isn't just famous for its stunning medieval architecture and breathtaking bay views—it's also a paradise for cat lovers! As I wandered through its charming streets, I couldn't resist capturing the town's beloved feline residents and the delightful cat-themed souvenirs that celebrate them.

The cats of Kotor are more than just furry companions—they’re an integral part of the town’s history and charm!

 These cats are believed to be descendants of those brought by sailors over centuries of maritime trade, originally serving as skilled rodent hunters on ships and in the town.

Today, Kotor’s cats roam freely, embraced as a symbol of the city. Locals and visitors alike adore them, and their presence is celebrated through cat-themed souvenirs, a dedicated Cats Museum, and countless cozy spots where they bask in the sun. Many shops and restaurants leave out food and water, ensuring these beloved felines are well cared for.

Even at the hotel, I found myself in the company of a furry Montenegrin local! This sweet kitty reminded me that in Kotor, you're never too far from a purring friend!

Kotor’s cat charm lives on in its adorable souvenirs!

Can’t take a real cat home? 🐾 These irresistible  cat souvenirs are the next best thing! 🐈‍⬛🐈

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View from my Airbnb 😍

Quiet Repose

This tranquil columbarium, where my parents' ashes are lovingly interred, has become a haven of peace for me. Among the solemn statues and swaying palms, I always find solace—a quiet reminder of their presence and the enduring bonds of love and memory. There’s something strangely comforting being here—the quiet, the stillness, the sense of time pausing. It can feel like a place of quiet repose, where memories rest gently and love lingers in the silence.

The Seventh Step: A Fall, A Burden, and a Message for Us All

Not far from the columbarium, I found myself lingering in an unlikely spot—a quiet corner of the church carpark. It’s not where you’d expect to stop and reflect. But along the surrounding walls stood the outdoor Stations of the Cross, beautifully sculpted and deeply moving. Each one felt like a silent storyteller, etched in solemn relief. Station VII, in particular, held me still.

Jesus Falls the Second Time.

The Roman numeral VII, in striking gold, sits atop a pale, weathered tableau. Jesus, exhausted under the crushing weight of the cross, has collapsed again. Around Him, the world buzzes — soldiers, citizens, bystanders — each face frozen in time, each expression a question or an answer in itself.

This moment, this second fall, holds more than just the image of physical exhaustion. It speaks to the moments in our own lives when we fall — not just once, but again. When getting back up feels heavier than the burden we’re carrying. And yet, the journey continues.

I stood there in the shade of the church wall, cars passing by just a few steps away, and felt the strange collision of the sacred and the everyday. It reminded me that our faith isn’t confined to Sunday rituals or quiet chapels. Sometimes it’s written in plaster on a wall beside a carpark, whispering to us when we least expect it.

Because falling — even more than once — doesn’t mean we’ve failed. It means we are human. And like Christ, we rise again, not because we have to be strong all the time, but because grace meets us exactly where we fall.

DINNER - South Indian banana leaf rice

FROM THE TRAVEL ARCHIVES

Volendam

Before my visit to Volendam, I watched a video of the town set to One Way Wind by The Cats, and the melody stayed with me. The Cats were a Dutch rock band formed in Volendam in 1964, and their music had been a part of my childhood. As I walked through the charming streets, past the colorful Dutch-style houses with their neatly trimmed gables, nostalgia washed over me. The song I grew up on played in my head like a perfect soundtrack to the moment. The gentle sway of the fishing boats in the harbor, the aroma of fresh stroopwafels, and the crisp breeze off the water all seemed to move in harmony with the tune. Standing by the waterfront, I felt as if I had stepped into a memory, making my experience in Volendam even more magical and surreal.

                 

The Mysterious Shellfish

 If there's one thing I've learned from a few embarrassing encounters with food, it's this—if something looks too intimidating to eat, it's best left alone.

As I hesitated over a plate of strozzapreti topped with clams, mussels, and an intriguing, unusual-looking shellfish at a seaside restaurant in Rovinj, the passing waitress caught my uncertainty. It sat there untouched, the kind of shellfish that often gets discarded on the side of plates of the uninitiated.

“Ah, this one,” she said with a knowing smile. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

She guided me with clear, practiced ease. "See that fleshy bit at the joint? Give it a pull."

I did as she instructed, tugging hesitantly until, to my surprise, a small hole appeared.

“Now insert the tip of a knife into the hole and give it a twist,” she encouraged. I grabbed my knife, inserted the tip into the opening, and with a slight twist, the shell popped apart, revealing the briny, meaty interior—denser than a mussel, richer than a clam.

We were intrigued. You think you've encountered all the seafood the Mediterranean has to offer, only to be reminded of how much remains undiscovered.

Back in Malaysia, curiosity got the better of me. I messaged the restaurant on Facebook, asking what the shellfish was. They replied with the following image, explaining that it was a Kunjka or Noah's Ark clam—so named for its resemblance to a barnacled relic. Native to the Adriatic, it was rarely seen on menus beyond the region.

Translated from Croatian using the image feature in Google Translate.

image source - https://www.skitopisi.com.hr/

 One of the greatest joys of traveling is the thrill of uncovering something completely new and extraordinary—an experience that lingers in your memory, enriching your world and perspective.

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Lost in thought

Portal

Dinner—Northern Thai

Khao Kha Moo 

 Khao Kha Moo is a popular Thai dish consisting of braised pork leg served over rice. The name roughly translates to "stewed pig's leg with rice." It’s a flavorful and hearty dish known for its tender, melt-in-your-mouth pork and savory, aromatic broth.

Tom yam

Nam Prik Ong

Nam Prik Ong—a flavorful and aromatic Thai chili dip that is a specialty of northern Thailand. It combines the savory taste of minced pork, tomatoes, and spices to create a hearty and mildly spicy dip. It’s typically served with fresh vegetables and rice, making it a popular dish for communal eating.

Tod Mun Pla

Tod Mun Pla—aromatic fish cakes that are packed with flavor. These fish cakes are often served as a snack or appetizer, but they can also be part of a larger meal.

Fiery sky captured from my balcony

FROM THE TRAVEL ARCHIVES

The World’s Oldest Working Mechanical Clock – Salisbury Cathedral, c.1386

This mesmerizing tangle of iron gears and ropes is more than just a beautiful relic — it’s believed to be the oldest working mechanical clock in the world, dating back to 1386. Housed in Salisbury Cathedral in England, this clock has no face and no hands. Instead, it once rang a bell every hour, marking time with sound rather than sight.

Built entirely of iron and powered by descending weights, it uses a verge and foliot escapement — a brilliant bit of medieval engineering that predates the pendulum. What you see here is raw, rhythmic precision from a time long before electricity or springs.

Forgotten for centuries and rediscovered in 1928, this clock was lovingly restored and still ticks today — a living heartbeat of history, over six centuries strong

During my mom's funeral Mass, our parish priest shared a beautiful reflection, comparing life to a jigsaw puzzle. 

"Life is like a jigsaw puzzle. Unlike the puzzles we might buy in a store, we don’t get to see the full picture in advance, and we can't check the box for guidance. Each piece represents a moment, a decision, or a person we encounter. Sometimes we find pieces that fit perfectly, bringing clarity and satisfaction. At other times, we struggle with pieces that don’t seem to belong, causing frustration and confusion. Throughout it all, there’s a greater design—a picture that only God knows in its entirety. We trust that each piece, however small or seemingly insignificant, has its place and purpose in the grand tapestry of life. And only God, and God alone, determines when the puzzle is complete—when death, the final piece, falls into place."          Rev. Fr. Aloysius Tan

What a beautiful and profound metaphor! Father Aloysius' words encapsulate the mystery and faith intertwined in life's journey. It's such a comforting reminder that, even in times of confusion or struggle, there’s a greater purpose and design beyond what we can see.

Mom lived a long and full life, reaching the ripe old age of 103. In her final years, as dementia took hold and she no longer recognized us, she often questioned why her journey was so long—why God had not taken her sooner. Yet when the time finally came, there were no tears at her funeral—only joy and gratitude that she was at peace at last, reunited with Dad in heaven. Her journey was long, sometimes painfully so, but now she is whole again, free from confusion, and finally home.

Isadora Duncan : A Dance of Passion, Tragedy, and Legacy

While exploring the beautiful coastal town of Opatija, I came across this striking sculpture of Isadora Duncan, a legendary pioneer of modern dance. Seeing her immortalized here, in a place known for its elegance and cultural history, made me reflect on her incredible yet tragic life.

 Isadora Duncan (1877–1927) was an American dancer who became a pioneering figure in the world of modern dance. Rejecting the formalities of classical ballet, she embraced a natural, free-flowing style inspired by Greek art, nature, and deep emotional expression. Her innovative approach to dance was considered radical at the time and paved the way for modern dance techniques.

image source - https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21336909

Duncan’s personal life was marked by tragedy and turmoil. In 1913, her two children, Deirdre and Patrick, tragically drowned when the car they were in, driven by their nanny, rolled into the River Seine in Paris. The nanny, unable to escape, also drowned, and the children were trapped inside. This heart-wrenching loss profoundly affected Duncan.

Duncan’s first marriage, to Parisian architect Romano Romanelli in 1906, was short and unhappy. The marriage was strained and ultimately ended in divorce after a few years. Duncan found herself dissatisfied with Romanelli’s more traditional views and their inability to connect emotionally.

She later married Russian poet Sergei Yesenin, who was 18 years her junior, making him her second husband. While Duncan and Yesenin shared some initial political sympathy, their views diverged. Duncan, though sympathetic to revolutionary ideals, was focused primarily on art and personal freedom, while Yesenin, initially a supporter of the Russian Revolution, grew increasingly disillusioned with Soviet politics, particularly with the harsh political realities and the suppression of artistic freedom under Lenin and Stalin. This difference in political outlook, combined with Yesenin’s struggles with mental health issues and alcoholism, contributed to their troubled marriage.

Yesenin’s infidelities were another source of scandal. He had several public affairs during their marriage, further straining the relationship. His behavior, fueled by his inner turmoil and excessive drinking, was erratic, and rumors about his numerous liaisons were widely known. These factors contributed to their eventual divorce in 1923. After their separation, Yesenin’s condition worsened, and he tragically committed suicide in 1925.

Duncan’s own life ended in tragedy in 1927. While in Nice, France, her long scarf became caught in the wheel of a moving car, leading to her death at the age of 50. Despite her early death, Duncan’s legacy as a revolutionary figure in dance endures, influencing artists and dancers worldwide.

image source - https://www.facebook.com/LostSanFrancisco