I arrived in Montenegro on May 21st to work on the Montelibero project. During this time, I have personally accomplished a little for the project: I settled in relative proximity to the plot of land being acquired as part of the project, participated in clearing the territory so that the surveyor could mark the cadastral boundaries of the plot and the future road leading to it, and submitted documents to be appointed as the director of the LLC Montelibero, which is currently in the process of registration. Until the company is registered, the possibilities for further offline activity regarding the land are limited.
Many are concerned about the cost of living in Montenegro. Here is a summary for the first month.
A total of 834 euros was spent — this is only for myself, excluding expenses within the framework of Montelibero. However, this amount includes some items that will be significantly lower in the future.
Housing cost 282 euros; it will be much less moving forward. First, the first 7 days were in a hostel at 6 euros per night. Second, when I rented long-term housing for 120 euros a month, I had to leave one month’s payment as a deposit, with a potential return not for a long time.
113 euros were spent on furnishings. For instance, I brought almost my entire desktop computer from Russia, except for the monitor and the case because they are heavy, and I forgot to take the router. I had to buy used hardware locally. Or, for example, the apartment turned out to have no electric kettle or clothes drying rack. In the future, I expect one major expense in this category, and after that, it will almost vanish.
A very unpleasant expense is the 30-euro tourist tax, which is 1 euro per day of stay in the country. The tax must be paid until a residence permit is obtained, which in turn is tied to the registration timelines of the company where I am the director. So this expense will decrease next month and eventually disappear completely. However, company maintenance costs will begin; but in my case, fortunately, these will be paid for by the project — a kind of social package for an employee with a monthly salary of 80 euros.
The wildest expense item from the perspective of former residents of Russia is the cash-out commissions, which cost 29 euros. Local ATMs charge 2% + 5 euros. In supermarkets, of course, you can pay by card, but between people — only cash; there is no “I’ll transfer to Sber via phone number” here. This is a serious reason to start earning cash here or making useful acquaintances for more profitable cash-outs than via an ATM.
170 euros were spent on shops, and another 54 on establishments. These expenses can be optimized, but I would assume that food and small household needs will continue to cost around two hundred.
In short, if you rent a very modest apartment in a cheap city (Bar is perhaps the cheapest city on the coast), then once life more or less settles down, you can expect to fit within 350-400 euros per month — if living alone. A family will have lower per capita rental costs and will likely fit within a price tag of 300 euros per person.
However, for expenses to stay within this modest price tag, a couple of other conditions must be met. First, forget about smoking; cigarettes are very expensive here, more than 2 euros per pack. I didn’t even start, which is easier for me. Second, you can choose not to apply for a residence permit and instead do a visa run. More on that below.
If a tourist does not pay the tourist tax, the state theoretically threatens to fine them. In practice, only those who apply for a residence permit without having paid their taxes are fined. Therefore, instead of applying for a residence permit, you can simply cross the border with Albania once a month. My landlord actually makes a side income from this: he crowds 4 people into his car, charges 10 euros from each, and drives them to Shkodër, a lovely Albanian town on the shore of Lake Skadar. In Albania, almost all fruits and vegetables are about twice as cheap, as are many items in supermarkets. So many people go there just to stock up, and at the same time, they get a border crossing stamp, which gives them the right to extend their legal stay in Montenegro. So, if you aren’t planning far ahead and aren’t chasing Montenegrin citizenship in ten years, then a visa run is the cheapest way of legalization. No PCR tests are required; I haven’t even seen people wearing masks in Albania at all.
In conclusion, a scattering of general impressions about the country.
The language is related enough to Russian that after a month, you can understand most of what is being said to you, especially if they speak slowly. Ordinary communication happens in a mixture of Montenegrin and Russian, but in difficult cases where this is not enough, switching to English is sufficient and solves the problem.
Locals are quite friendly, although not as breathtakingly hospitable as, say, Georgians. They love to chat: communication with locals almost always boils down to them talking, you occasionally giving one-word answers to their questions, and them being happy that they were understood and that you even replied on topic. They talk little about politics, and this usually concerns the question of whether they should join the European Union, rather than whether some Russians or Belarusians have a dispute with their government. Libertarian values are quite organic for them, though they are not articulated.
Business culture in Montenegro is a legendary topic. You get the feeling that by the time you manage to pull off a more or less complex deal, you will have already gotten to know the counterparty’s entire family and perhaps even become related to them. The price of the deal ultimately turns out to be noticeably higher than expected, but in the process, some unexpected benefits arise that have a completely indirect relation to the original subject of discussion. In short, you have to immerse yourself in it, and it’s harmful to spend too many nerves on it.
There is work here, in principle, both skilled and unskilled. Until your knowledge of the local language is proficient, you can look for work through Russian-speaking groups on Facebook; they are populous and informative. When a person begins to chat fluently, their opportunities expand significantly. Also, nothing prevents working remotely, but you already understand that. The internet is expensive, but the quality is decent enough.
The food is tasty, but the cuisine is not very diverse: meat, cheese, bread, vegetables, fruits. The culture of smoking meat is top-notch. There is fish, but it’s not highly prized by the locals. They eat a lot of pastries, but here I don’t particularly align with the locals.
The climate surprised me at first: at the end of May, evenings were openly cool. Now it much more resembles my idea of the subtropics: hot during the day, pleasant at night. Humidity is not very high and isn’t irritating. I haven’t even turned on the air conditioner yet, but I think it will be needed after some time. The sea is still quite cool, so the beaches are already quite crowded, while the waves are still spacious. They say the locals migrate to the mountains, where it’s cooler, during the height of the heat. I haven’t been there yet, but I plan to.
In general, in terms of tourist attractions, Montenegro is still passing me by. I visited the Old Town of Budva — and that’s pretty much it. Although literally right next to me is some breathtakingly ancient olive tree, 2400 years old, which all the locals speak of with literal breathlessness, and three kilometers away are the ruins of Old Bar — but somehow I just haven’t found the time. Instead, today I plan to visit the tourist center to extend my registration after the visa run, and tomorrow I’ll go to the capital, where I spotted a used scooter (that same expected major expense for furnishings). Perhaps when I have wheels, I’ll be able to ride around the country and explore it in more detail, but that will likely be the topic of the next report.
