The honest answer?
"I honestly don't know."
I knew next to nothing about Albania before my arrival. Frankly, I saw it on the map in between myself and Greece and figured, "oh what the hell, I hear they have nice beaches."
(As a side note I didn't visit a single beach the entire two weeks I was there).
My fellow Americans, if you want to go somewhere where we are loved, Albania is definitely for you. I have never experienced such an abundance of good will. I can't tell you how many times I was stopped walking down the street, asked where I was from, and then rewarded with huge smiles (America!) and offers of free coffee and food.
But let's begin at the beginning.
I arrived first in Tirana, the capital, where I had scheduled four nights with the noble intention of doing some day trips. Unfortunately my lingering cough had other plans, and combined with the truly unpleasant heat I spent my afternoons napping after wandering quite aimlessly around the city in the mornings. For lunch I would go out to familiarize myself with local cuisine, for dinner I mostly ate from the hostel kitchen (who makes a mean grilled chicken dish with rice).
Baked mashed potatoes with minced meat. Simply good.
The pyramid.
Baked spicy cheese.
Some sort of polenta cake with cheese and greens. I was quite fond of this one also.
The other main thing that sticks out from my time in Tirana is my discovery that air conditioning is not popular in Albania, and thus ensued the nightly battle for the fan in the dorm since it covered only about half the room. My go-to solution quickly came down to jumping in a cold shower and then dressing back in my pjs without bothering to towel off before lying in bed. Repeat as necessary.
Finally, I really don't recommend you buy cough syrup in Albania. It was by far the most vile, disgusting, revolting (I could go on) thing I have ever tasted, and required a chaser and the oh-so-dignified nose hold you did as a kid when mom would force feed you meds you hated. When I left Tirana I happily tossed it and decided to take my chances with a lung infection instead.
I left Tirana for Berat, and discovered the glories of the Ambanian public transport system, which I will outline for you here:
1. If you have a schedule, just throw it away. It is useless. The bus will leave when the driver decides he has enough passengers, or someone bribes him.
2. Stand on an unmarked street corner as directed by someone who apparently knows about these things.
3. Flag down your bus when you see it approaching.
4. Throw your luggage on and hop on, usually while the vehicle is still moving.
5. Calculate how long it should take, then double that.
6. Find an open seat (if one isn't available, just stand in the aisle until someone gets off) and prepare to sweat for the next few hours (the door they leave open when roaring down the highway is the air con).
7. Give up on ever finding a seat belt. Just pray you survive.
8. Hop off at another random street corner as directed.
9. Pay the driver or his assistant a sum that will usually not exceed $4 regardless of how far you've traveled.
The best part of this whole thing is the system actually works better than some I've come across in more "modernized" countries. You can have the driver drop you off basically anywhere if you know how to ask for it and you will get to your destination if you have patience and no strict schedule.
Upon arrival in Berat I hopped on a city bus, and for the equivalent of $0.23 was dropped off just across the bridge from my hostel, known to the locals as "Scotty's place" because everyone knows everyone and an English ex-pat running a hostel is particularly hard to miss.
I made my way out for food eventually, and with Scotty's recommendation I hit up a local hotel and was served an amazing casserole involving ground beef and squash (mistakenly labeled as "pumpkin" on the menu, but still good).
The next day happened to be cooler weather so in the morning I made my way up to the fortress, which sits atop a massive hill. There, while wandering aimlessly as always, I made the aquaintance of a young local guy who unceremoniously took it upon himself to show me around in a sort of impromptu free tour. Whether or not I was interested in a tour I certainly got one, and I'm still not sure if he was expecting a tip at the end.
Crossing the bridge from old town.
The epic hill climb from halfway up. Definitely wouldn't do this on a hot day.
View from the top!
Old town from above.
Some pretty epic religious artwork.
That evening I made my way down to the main boulevard for a beer, where I found myself quite literally the only woman seated at one of the outdoor cafes. Apparently it is the men's job to sit, drink, and shoot the shit, while the women's job is to walk up and down the street gossiping, showing off new babies, and wagging their hips. Not one to conform to traditional gender roles I ordered myself a beer and watched the ladies walk past with the boys. It was a strange experience.
I had one final day in Berat, during which I grabbed some lunch with a fellow American I had met days before in Montenegro and randomly run into again in Berat, then spent some good time that afternoon napping.
The following morning I decided to make my way to Pogradec, so I packed up my things and, when I couldn't find the city bus stop, decided to walk to the bus station (fun fact, Bwrat actually does have a legit bus station!). Considering it was roughly 40C and over 1.5km and the city bus costs all of $0.23... Not my best laid plan. But I did eventually make it, sweating like a pig but not suffering from heatstroke at least.
The bus was supposed to leave at 10:45.
Hahahaha, nope.
Deciding that myself and the two dutch tourists were not worth his while, the bus driver promptly rescheduled for noon instead. So my two new middle aged pals from the Netherlands asked of I'd like to join them for a coffee, which I happily took them up on. Equally lucky, we were going to the same place, which required a bus change halfway there, so we banded together and figured out how to get to Pogradec together. Phew, three heads are SO much better than one. Also, the guy had a phone, which pointed me in the direction of my hostel when we did finally arrive that evening. Thank you, awesome Dutch couple, you rock!
Pogradec is right on the shores of lake ohrid, a welcome break from the overwhelming heat inland. That evening I found a restaurant situated literally on the lake, ordered a schnitzel and a beer, and enjoyed the scenery. I decided to go for a second beer. Then the charming teenage waiter approached and informed me that his boss was sending this, my third beer, and pointed out a chubby Albanian mobster (seriously with the gaudy gold rings and wad of cash he would be right at home with some New Yorkers of Italian descent...) seated at a nearby table. Then another beer was sent. Then a plate of food. Each time I would smile, say thank you, and give a little wave to my new admirer. He eventually asked to join me via the waiter, and considering he didn't speak English and I certainly don't speak Albanian we sat in a mildly uncomfortable silence punctuated by translations from the English speaking wait staff, mostly consisting of him telling me that I could have anything my heart desired, to just let him know, and me thanking him and attempting to refuse unsuccessfully. I wound up drinking enough beer that I lost track, eating boiled hazelnuts (sold by random guys wandering the restaurant; my response to trying them amused my admirer greatly, because sorry they are just so strange), dancing some sort of traditional dance in a circle with a group of young people (also, failing miserably at this), and befriending a German guy my parents' age to act as a buffer because by this time, despite the haze of alcohol, I was suspicious of my courter's intentions. He was rather harmless but plying me with alcohol does, thankfully, set off alarm bells.
In the end I said my farewells, thanked my host, and made my way back to the hostel without incident. Then I sent a few questionable emails I got to reread the following morning which have led me to believe that my iPad should have sort of breathalyzer attachment that prevents me from opening my messenger whilst intoxicated. Luckily there was no harm done aside from the urge to smack myself in the head. Also, I apparently get really gushy when I drink too much, which doesn't really suit me.
So the following day I just dawdled around the city, took a nap in the afternoon, and eventually went out for dinner. I was well behaved and went to bed at a reasonable hour.
The next morning I had to make my way to Macedonia, the latest and greatest challenge of my mastery of public transport. But, alas, that's for the next post. I'm working on catching up so never fear, it'll happen soon enough.
Thanks as always for reading, and hopefully not rolling your eyes too much at my hideously ridiculous antics.
~Swan
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