The trip to Greece 2. Albania

Once we crossed the border into Albania, it was like a time warp. The backroads were filled with more horse-drawn wagons than they were cars. The men wore black pants, button down shirts, black vests, and straw fedoras and carried sacks of potatoes they just pulled from the fields. Women wore traditional folk prints on long sleeved outfits, headdresses, and were also carrying vegetables. It reminded me of Amish country and there was something nice about the simplicity that has been preserved in the face of Westernization.

We approached the town of Schkode, and cute rural landscape slowly transformed to a poor and trash-ridden semi-urban area. Perhaps intensified by the hot sun was light brown dirt on roads and roadsides, kicking up as dust when cars rolled by. Here we were to meet a mini-bus, the major transport in Albania, mini-buses wait until they are filled before they leave. By some stroke of luck, we were the last three people to arrive at the bus, and that meant it was time to go. We were on the bus filled with a few kids, guys in their 20s, and a few families. Danceclub techno started blaring, loudly, and lasted for the duration of the ride. I watched as we rolled past old women and young girls riding bikes along the dusty road in their dresses, horses and mules occasionally crossing without an owner herding them, and men standing in the rubble of old buildings seeming to negotiate transactions. I was watching life unfold in a former communist/totalitarian regime. The sun reflected off widespread trash and scrap metal lying along the road, and I rested my head against the window and zoned out to the exceptionally fast beat song "I wanna suck on your Lollipop" also known as "suck on my lollipop" (the nature of the song suggested Lollipop was a metaphor.) I'm happy for the kids sake that they didn't understand English.

Driving in Albania is a real test of skill. We shared the road with Horses, Bicycles, mopeds, Scooters, Motorcyles, cars, buses, tractors and a few large trucks. It is one lane in each direction, and there are no designated passing zones, because you are allowed to pass anywhere. Any vehicle that can go faster than the vehicle in front of it will straddle the center line until the time approaches to pass. It gets dangerous because both directions of traffic will straddle the same middle line, cars only swerving out of the way at the very last minute. It's a constant game of chicken. At one point we fit 2 scooters, a car, a minibus and horse-drawn wagon in two lanes of traffic, travelling in opposite directions.

Two hours of this and we pulled into Tirane, Albania's capital. You would expect a capital city to appear modern, or clean, but 5 miles leading into the center seemed like some of the most poverty stricken area I have ever seen. only 1 in 5 buildings were actually complete, the rest were cinderblock shells of buildings where construction had been put off (years ago), or worse yet, foundations engulfed in rubble and trash. Hundreds of stray dogs and cats roamed the streets. Kids, families, and groups of males ages 16-25 hung out amongst the rubble, seeming to be waiting for something to do. Despite some earlier fantasy I had to stay the night in the capital, and despite my faith that I would be ok, I was travelling with 2 others, which gave us safety in numbers, and cheaper travelling options. It was 20:00 hours, and there were no buses running to the southern shore town of Sarande, Albania, where we hoped to get to this evening. Our bus driver found a cab driver who would drive us to Sarande for 130 Euro, 43 each. Considering the distance was about 5 hours, and considering the minibus system which required a full bus could take all of the next day waiting, we decided this was actually quite economical.

This cab driver's English was limited to the word "Cigarette". We got in, he stepped on the pedal, and we started off for what was 5 hours of only winding mountainous roads, dirt and gravel in many spots, ridden with potholes, cracks, steep cliffs with no guardrails, and the aforementioned driving customs of Albania. I sat in the passenger seat and tried to buckle up, but the seatbelt was broken, all of them were. I asked myself, "does it really matter?" I tried my best to nod off to sleep. We pulled up to a nice, cheap and safe hotel around 1am. We paid the driver who hadn't said a word for the past 5 hours. He got out, smoked a cigarette, got back in the car and started his 5 hour journey back to Tirane on the same winding mountain roads. We woke the next morning and got an early afternoon ferry to Corfu, Greece, where were were greeted by customs agents who asked us to step in some shallow soapy water to clean our shoes. That in itself was an assurance that things in Greece would be pleasantly different.

While my description of Albania may make it appear to be a shithole, I certainly did not give it the chance to impress me. What I noticed about the Albanians is that they are wonderfully helpful and nice people. If you ask someone where the bank or bakery is, they will walk with you for 5 blocks to get there. You could tell they wanted to attract tourists, and many seemed sad that were were only passing through to get to Greece. The fact remains that there is alot of organized crime and houligans there, but I had done very little research on this country. When I get home to reseach just how Albania became what it is, I hope to have a new perspective.