Balkans

I went to Paris looking for old Europe and found McDonald's and the Best Western. That’s not to say France doesn’t have quaint villages and people without cellphones. It does, but if you want to go back in time, go east. The Balkans offer what’s slipped away from much of Western Europe, with roads where grass is growing between tire tracks and where you have to stop for shepherds walking their herds down the middle of the road. Instead of giving you directions, proud locals take you to your destination. 

Elderly people walk arm in arm with teenagers to family-owned shops for sardines and freshly-made bread on cobblestone streets, and four-hundred-year-old homes are as everyday as pews in their churches.

I recommend getting lost on roads that lead nowhere, saying yes to the local sheep's cheese, and taking a dip in Lake Ohrid. Spilia Vranjaca is worth a visit, and absolutely do not miss Plitvice Lakes National Park.

You’ll probably never find Camping Eco Zone Zelenkovac or their annual jazz festival. Still, if you do, it will be one of those experiences you’ll never be able to explain to friends accurately. It’s a far cry from the Ritz-Carlton, and no 1000-thread-count sheets. But a cup of hot chocolate on a comfy couch in front of a stone fireplace is just the tip of the iceberg. A maze of humble, handmade buildings harmonious with the forested landscape draws you through winding trails across the property. You have to be lost or have a good GPS to find this place, but if you somehow manage to arrive, you may never experience the same level of hospitality or accommodations.