Letter from Montenegro: A fleet of 10 gleaming new, bright yellow sanitation vehicles was proudly driven down by the busy harbour outside the old town of Kotor. The municipalities of Kotor, Tivat and Budva were being provided with the new vehicles through the World Bank-funded MESTAP project at a total cost of exactly €860,000 - "including customs duties and VAT" as an official helpfully informed me.
It's a sign of the times in Kotor and in Montenegro generally. The country is cleaning up its act big-time and has appointed its first Minister for Environmental Protection and Urban Planning. Montenegro has also cleaned up its coast, which was still filthy only five years ago, and the water I saw in several areas was crystal clear and a pleasure to swim in.
A few days later after the sanitation vehicles arrive, I visit the Mayor of Kotor, Marija Maja Catovic, at the town hall. Marija is upbeat regarding the referendum on separating from Serbia, Montenegro's partner in the "loose federation". Prime Minister Milo Djukanovic recently announced the referendum will be held sometime between next February and the end of April 2006.
"Many people would like to see Montenegro regain its independence," says Marija (the country was independent until 1918). Well, yes and no. The latest polls show 41 per cent of the Montenegrin people would vote for independence and 34 per cent against, with the remainder undecided. Though officially one state, the two countries have separate currencies, economic systems and central banks.
"Our economies must be independent," says Marija. "We can find agreement on everything else."
With the number of visitors now quadrupling annually, Marija believes tourism is set to be the linchpin of Montenegro's economy.
However, services have not kept up. "Water is a particular problem," says the mayor. With substantial American help, the government has set up a joint venture, Vodacom, to deal with water shortages on the coast at Cetinje.
As a politician and a private citizen, Marija has her sights set on EU membership for Montenegro but knows it is a long way off. As recently as 1993 the country was still mired in economic crisis - "because of the policies of Slobodan Milosevic" says Marija bluntly. The World Bank later stepped in to sort out the massive inflation problem (50 million dinar for a loaf of bread); the government agreed to stop printing money and the D-mark - long the unofficial currency of the Balkans - became the official currency.
Montenegro then got the euro when it became legal tender in 2002, and remains the only country outside the EU with the euro as official currency (and also no say in the governing European Central Bank).
Just a few kilometres outside Kotor, I met Miodrag in the village of Prancj. Miodrag is a Serb, a good-looking guy of 33 from the town of Nis.
This was the last day of his seasonal job as a waiter at the local café, where from April to September he had been working seven days a week for €300 per month, while paying €80 per month for his room in Kotor.
Now he planned to return home to see his retired parents: "I will rest for a while," said Miodrag, who is happy to be called Miki.
Miki is a former soldier in the Serbian army, a veteran of three wars. Having seen his best friend die in his arms- "a missile took out his stomach" - Miki swears now he will never take up arms again: "Why should I kill some Croat, why should he kill me? My best friend was a Croat killed by Croats. It is nothing but politics."
This happened in 1991, when Miki and his friend were both aged 19 and Croat army forces fought Croat Serbs in the streets of southern and eastern Croatia.
Miki was initially a willing soldier but after the death of his friend he returned "half-mad" from the war in which 100,000 people died. He tells terrible stories of seeing people die, of children being blown up.
Miki gets no pension or any financial aid from the army he served or from his country. Called on to enlist for a fourth time, he refused, and the Serbian army attempted to sue him. "I do not want a gun, I do not want to shoot. If anyone tries to give me a gun now, I will turn it on them. That is how I feel."
As for Serbia, Miki says its economy is destroyed, its factories closed and its politics corrupt. Over coffee he muses about better times: "I used to sing. I sang in a choir in an Orthodox church for ten years."
Miki heads off after this last day at work, his future uncertain. He only has what he makes each week - "and I drink beer, and I smoke - for my nerves".