Albania

Well, I'm here to tell my friends about my new favourite corner of the globe: Albania.

"Ahh! But John, isn't that one of the poorest countries on Earth? Isn't their main import drug money, their main export efficient organized-crime circles??"

Perhaps these may be so. Perhaps the country is so poor that 38% of Albanians have never owned a Mercedes. Perhaps the crime circles are so rich that new, gorgeous buildings are popping up all over the country. Perhaps the government is so nuts that the megalomaniac mayor of Tirane spends public funds to paint the entire city in Pastels. So, what of it?


Indeed, it's the foibles we think charming. Ask any American voter. So this interesting little land, going through a boom-time right now, although with a complete lack of tourists, is ripe for adventuring. True, I found ATMs and internet cafes, which the Lonely Planet said didn't exist, but this is likely because there hasn't been a LP researcher here for a few years. When people inquired and learned that I was from NY or the USA, they gave me this curious look that I should have expected if I had said "Ancient Persia."

And of course, prices came down to normal levels as I got to know the locals; while the first cup of coffee might be $1, the following cup, along with a full lunch, was also $1. This might be expected in a land where the value of your camera slightly exceeds the Per Capita GDP.

However, the Per Capita Mercedes ownership might not be, as I mentioned previously. Indeed it seems only every fourth car didn't sport the tri-point. I asked a few folks about this; some extolled the reliability of the brand, some just pointed to the greasy guys in ugly sunglasses sunk in their brand new M-class MobMercs, and I even got a neat story about why most car insurance is no longer valid in Albania. My informant explained that a popular Italian past-time was to drive an older Benz down, vacation, "persuade" cops to fill out a Theft report, sell the car at half-price, and then have insurance fork out another car. True or no, interesting.

So after some time in Tirane, it was time for me to move south to Gjirokaster, and for my mate Tom, north to Bosnia. Since the tourist infrastructure is nonexistent, a traveler has two options; go with the locals to the dirt-mound called a bus-stop, or fly First-class with the other locals. Still, our mound didn't have the buses we needed. But in the process of tooling around with confused looks, an older guy came over to help us get to where we needed to go. He led us around to the agencies we would have never found, and got us all the information we needed to know.

Of course, he didn't speak English.

So the travel companies give him the info in Albanian, he relays this to Tom in bad Italian or French and myself in bad German or Russian. Tom and I listen with bad Italian/French/German/Russian, and then confer in order to piece together what we need. Perhaps the guy did actually speak English, because the scene would have been worth the laugh.

This guy finally got us around to the various dirt-mounds from whence our buses left, Tom's from the side of a cafe, mine from behind a suburban gas-station. Before I said farewell to this Samaritan, he revealed that he was actually an off-duty cop. Wow.

So I was on the bus, free to relax and start the book I brought along. Of course, behind me was a friendly couple who was eager to chat with the one blonde kid in the country. They patiently waited until I took breaks from reading, so as not to interrupt, but of course (just my luck) I had traded Tom my LP and phrasebook before we had parted. So, completely dumb, I did my best with gestures and my atlas. This was all rather easy until they got curious as to what I was so wrapped up in reading (they saw "Alexander" and thought it was a book about 'the Great'). So, I ended up doing a pantomime of the first 170 pages of Count of Monte Cristo, attracting the attention of many of the other passengers. When I finally finished, I was implored to keep going, since I left them at a cliff hanger (or perhaps a cliff tosser). One guy seemed to be cursing the bus, since it didn't have lights for me to continue reading, but it was still all smiles. I had a fun time. It seems there's no surer a place to make friends or enemies than public transport.

When I finally got into Gjirokaster, a family found me (and led me to) a much cheaper and closer hotel than I had been thinking of. Very cool. I then hiked around the hills of this old city, climbed up to the 6th century castle, and generally had a good time. Of course, once I found the appropriate cafe-stop and inquired as to my bus to Athens, I learned that "Buses three days a week" means "Friday, Saturday, Sunday." So, I settled in, read, climbed to the castle again, took more photos, took Turkish coffee. Rinse, Repeat.

Anyhow, after exploring the lovely town in a lovely country with some of the friendliest people I've ever met, I was off. Sure there were the low points, like getting backed over by a car or slipping into some poisonous bushes, but I'm an optimist. So it was off to Athens, on a bus full of friendly, curious Albanians. Rinse, Repeat.

So I've been in Athens for a few, now. The ride down was gorgeous, and we took a ferry across to the Peloponnese and crossed to Athens at Corinth. Modern Athens can't compare to modern Rome, but the ancient sites are still amazing. They would also be twelve euro to enter if I was older than 19, but since I came at the right age, they're all free. Ahh. So I've just been tooling around here, seeing the sights and getting my fill of museums, grabbing some gyros and hunting for old coins. Worth it, indeed. I'm off to Santorini this afternoon.

Love yall.