I Like Albanians!

What you've done becomes the judge of what you're going to do - especially in other people's minds. When you're traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don't have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road. ~William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways

19 May 2010, Friday

After two days of touring the castle and museums in Berat I head off for a hike in the nearby mountains and a local culture experience. Berat is not so heavily touristed that it's lost its authenticity but still, there are a few other tourists wandering about. I walk to the bus station and catch a bus to Bogove, where, the hostel owner tells me, there are some beautiful waterfalls and a swimming hole that the locals enjoy. The bus is a big one, an old touring bus too worn out for tourists. By the time we reach the edge of Berat it's full.

We ride for an hour through a landscape similar to western Colorado. This road resembles the road between Crawford and Gunnison: steep drop-offs to our right, heavily forested, high snow-capped peaks in the distance. Every 300 yards or so we pass a bouquet of flowers marking the place where someone – or a busload of someones – flew off the edge into Never-Never Land. They say that auto accidents are the leading cause of death in Albania. I saw a couple of them myself on my way from Macedonia.

The road from Berat to Skrappar

There are not yet enough passengers continuing on from Skrappar to Bogove so I must wait for the next furgon to load up. This is a nice town. A wide promenade leads from a large square where the buses and taxis congregate so I decide to stroll along and do a little people-watching while waiting. It's mid-morning coffee time; people of all ages are strolling the promenade and men fill the cafes drinking coffee. Women don't sit and drink coffee in Albania. It's acceptable for foreign women to do so because, well, they're strange, but a local woman would never do that.

After the stroll I return to the square to sit in the sun and keep my eye on the mini-bus. I have no idea what time it will leave, what time I must be back from Bogove to catch the bus back to Berat, nor do I have any idea what time it is in the moment! I'm soon joined by Buca Rosa – her name means Beautiful Rose in English.

There are 3 kinds of Albanians when it comes to communicating with foreigners. There are those who speak English and enjoy talking with you in English. There are those who don't speak English, never utter a word but who are very adept at communicating with hand signals, facial expressions, and tone of voice. Then there are those who speak only Albanian and know you don't speak or understand Albanian but that doesn't phase them. They chatter away. Buca Rosa is one of the last. I think perhaps she is a little simple-minded, but she is very sweet. In the end she asks me if I will take her photo and she poses with a broken and crumpled unlit cigarette and a rose, then hands me the two roses she has picked from the park's garden. The furgon begins filling and I go to catch it. Good-bye, beautiful rose.

Skrappar town center

May 20, 2010 Friday

I don't quite know where I am when the furgon drops me off in Tirana. I look around, expecting to see a train station nearby but there is none. I try to get oriented, but before I can I'm surrounded by helpful Albanians. Now, the Albanian willingness to help can be a little difficult to manage when it's six taxi drivers who don't speak English and want to get you loaded into the next available taxi and one random passerby who speaks a little English. It becomes a bit like playing the game Charades. I say a word and one of the taxi drivers thinks he understands and begins animatedly telling the others what I want and waving for me to get into the taxi. "No, no, no!" I protest, and sit down on the curb with my guide book to gather my thoughts. Soon the random passerby is pulled into the discussion. He seems to understand most of my needs but can't understand something as complex as: "Are there good places to stay in Shkodra? I don't yet know if I want to stay here in Tirana or go on to Shkodra." or, "I have all these leke I need to exchange before I leave the country. Is there a bank nearby?" So I hunker down with my book again and try to ignore the fray above me. But my book is no help either. There are no hotels or hostels listed for Shkodra and I have no idea how many leke I'll need to get there. I finally decide to let them hustle me into a taxi and get on with my life, trusting in Fate once again.

No sooner is the door of the taxi closed though then I decide I should just stay in Tirana. I know of a good hostel here and I can get myself settled in peace and quiet. I also know the hostel owners will speak English and be able to guide me where I want to go. I don't particularly want to stay in Tirana but neither do I want to stay in Shkodra so I may as well stay in Tirana where the landscape is somewhat known. At least I have a map and a guide to the city and at least I know there's someplace I can get the information I need. So I direct the driver to the Tirana Backpacker Hostel. "What?" He looks at me like I'm insane, shrugs his shoulders to his friends and says something to his friends to indicate and we head to the hostel. (www.hostelz.com/hostel/38991-Tirana-Backpacker-Hostel)

Tirana Backpacker Hostel

This was the right decision. This is a great little hostel. I love the people who work there. It's obvious they love their jobs. The owner does indeed speak good English, there's a kitchen available for my use and a grocery store just down the street. I know exactly how many leke I'll need to get out of Dodge tomorrow and can settle in for the afternoon and write. Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain. I don't care. I do need to catch up on my blog!