Due to the fact that Thomas could not take time off and I would lose my leave if I did not take it, I ended up in Albania by myself for eleven days in 2015. After a year off, I decided that it would be a great idea to do some backpacking. I also spent the run up to this trip reliving my early 20s and drinking too much in Shoreditch for a series of consecutive weekends. As a result, Albania, alone, seemed like a fantastic chance to detox. Not really sure what I was thinking going to a place where whole roast goat, draught red wine and raki are the national specialties.
I flew into Tirana, which was quite a nice small capital. The central square enjoyed a clashing set of communist, fascist, nationalist, religious and commercial constructions all set around a large, unused, grassy area. The main museum was pretty interesting and had a good set of icons from the Byzantine era, including various depictions of St. George slaying the dragon, of which I am a particular fan.
One fun activity I decided to do in Albania was a loop where you can get a car ferry up Lake Koman, head to a mountain town (Valbone) and then hike across a mountain pass to another village (Thethi) before getting shared transport out the other side. This is all spectacularly beautiful and is up on the border with Kosovo and Montenegro. That said, I was not necessarily prepared for the level of activity involved in hiking across this pass for eight hours with all my luggage on my back (note Shoreditch related preparation for trip above).
In a somewhat related experience, a good friend of mine once told me that he had two rules in life. Rule 1: Don’t be an asshole. Clearly a pretty good rule and one that most people would not take issue with. Rule 2: Don’t be a little bitch about stuff. As he later noted to me, he really needs to work on a more gender neutral expression of this rule, but the concept holds true regardless of its lack of political correctness. That said, the fact that when I was first graced with this wisdom, my friend was struggling about as much as I was trying to chase an ex-Ethiopian marathon runner up a volcano in the dark, went a long way to dealing with any offense that may or may not have been taken. Every time I so much as breathed loudly, he would helpfully point out “Rule number 2, Anthea, rule number 2”. Anyway, I ended up repeating this mantra to myself all the way up the Valbona pass. This was helpful for two reasons. First, this was probably a lot more efficient use of my time than muttering profanities at the side of the mountain while questioning why I was climbing the stupid thing in my unfit state with 10kg on my back. Second, the lovely German couple that stumbled upon me attempting to breathe midway up the pass did not catch me swearing loudly to myself. Classy. An additional exciting feature of this hike (along with the fact that I managed to actually make it to the end) was that it was the first hike I had done alone (I think ever). Thomas helpfully pointed out to me that since I was hiking by myself, I should enjoy the experience without having to engage in never ending Lion King singalongs or, alternatively, enjoy the opportunity to partake in any part of the script other than that of Pumba. I declined, but mostly because I was having trouble breathing.
Suffice to say, the hike was challenging (for me) and direct on both sides of the pass. I liked the Thethi side much more and stayed in a cute guesthouse at the end. Plus. The girl there spoke English. Also, a plus. She decided that after my eight hour schlep across the mountains, a fun activity would be for me to assist her with applying for masters program in Norway. MINUS. Definite minus. Lesson learned: Sometimes the adorable local places really screw with you. The fact that I assisted in this activity is a case in point of me employing Rule number 1 (see above).
I also hit Kruje, which was a cool old Ottoman town and had some allowance for tourism. At the bottom of the hill I found a taxi to take me up to town. Unfortunately, the only thing available was a car that had a hand written taxi sign in the window and was driven by a beer drinking Turk whose friend also decided to pile into the back of the cab for the journey. This was somewhat disconcerting, but the two proceeded in a valiant attempt to hold a conversation with me in Albanian, point out the lesser known fact (of which they were incredibly proud) that George Bush (senior, I think) had visited their town (yes, there is a statue and a café named after him) and quiz me on my child-less status while failing to watch the road and wizzing happily around blind corners up the mountain side. I obviously needed a drink as soon as I arrived at the hotel and, happily, this situation was quickly taken care of. Kruje was pretty good and the hotel staff seemed to take to me and even got me free drinks. I think this was because everyone in Albania was convinced I was a student. While I would like to think this was because of my youthful looks, sadly it is more likely that this was a result of the fact that I was wearing a backpack and dressed like a hobo. That said, people gave me free stuff and generally took care of me, so I was okay with it. On that note, I would say that Albania is one of the more friendly countries I have visited and the people are solidly in the pretty good category.
Berat is a UNESCO site and was quite stunning. Other than this, the most notable event that occurred in Berat was that I managed to get a bee down my top, it stung me, I danced around like a lunatic in the bus pulling at my shirt (which was pretty difficult given that I was wearing my pack at the time) and managed to provide much amusement for the locals. Not the most auspicious entrance to the town.
I also enjoyed a few days at the beach at Dhermi. The ladies there decided to adopt me into their early morning coffee club, notwithstanding that I had no idea what they were talking about and vice versa. That said, I did manage to get someone to translate my fortune that was told to me by way of my empty coffee cup – apparently I am strong and will have twins. Thomas was less than impressed by this update.
Largely due to my desire to see the town I read about in Gerald Durrell’s My Family and Other Animals, I ended the trip in Corfu. This was very touristy, but still interesting and very pretty. I was also very seriously invited to dance tango by a lovely middle aged taverna proprietor. The fact that I did not take him up on the invitation is probably one of my lasting regrets from the trip.
