To Albania.
Well, we decided to give our fresh herbs to Sarah-Jane at Hotel Avra rather than try to take them across the border.
Out to catch the 7:15 bus to Corfu Town, we grabbed a take-away coffee and roll on the way to the port. Like Starbucks... Greekbucks? Even at 8:30, we are hot and sweaty by the time we got on the ship, another Flying Dolphin. A few other people are obviously staying in Albania, one guy with his friend has on three backpacks! (Yes, three. One in front, one big one on his back and a small daypack strapped onto that. I don’t think it would be the weight, but the hassle managing so much stuff. And, in this heat… he is like a steaming hot backpack sandwich.) I think we are the lightest traveling people by at least half. It is pretty common to see people walking with two packs, one on their back, one on front. In this heat... Ugh.
We are heading across from Corfu to Sarandë, then going about 60KM north to Himarë, a beach town.
Well, the ferry ride turned out to be the easy part of the trip. We got into Albania OK after waiting in a hot line, in the sun (except my passport wouldn't scan, a little hassle but an omen for today) but then an ATM shut down after I got my card but before I got the cash out.
Ok. Took care of that. Now, where do we find a bus, or bus station? Sarandë is kind of a mess, no map, confusing signage and a jumble of streets.
But I know these things for sure from reading ahead:
1. The bus station is a couple blocks from the port. (It isn’t.)
2. Italian is the second language in Albania so it will be easy for me to communicate. (Wrong, and
it isn’t.)
3. Albania has not really developed its tourist infrastructure. (This one is true.)
So, the next hour goes about like this: we wander up the street, and find no one who speaks Italian, let alone English. They do speak Albanian. We find no helpful signs pointing to the bus station (because there is no bus station). I will soon learn that we are looking for a “Bus Gathering Area.” I also find out the single word, “Autobus” (bus) is about the same in Italian and Albanian. So is the one word, “Hour.” (Ora and orë).
It is soooo hot… we stop for a bottle of water. Sorry about having to break a 1000 Leke bill for a 50 Leke bottle, but that is what the damn ATM spits out.
Depending who I ask, the buses gather over here (2 blocks south), no over there around the corner (one block east), no, this way (three blocks north? Then west?....WHERE IN THE HELL ARE WE???) So we finally stumble upon a bus "gathering place area" comprised of about 3 square blocks. Three square blocks. That is 12 or so corners where buses gather. And sure enough, they have signs in the front window: TIRANE, MURSI, POGRADEC, but no HIMARË or even DHERMI.
So now I am wandering around, asking, “Autobus? Himarë? Ora?”
According to whom I ask, the bus to Himara leaves from this corner or that one; maybe it is the other there, at 12:00 or maybe 14:30 or not until tomorrow. I even find a travel office of sorts that advertises “We specialize in transportation to Himarë,” but when I talk to the lady there in a combination of English (no English), Italian (nope), drawings and gestures she finally just shrugs. This is getting nutty, I am really sweating and getting pretty frustrated. I just need one definite time and place.
Taking a chance we find and “talk” to a taxi driver. Himarë? Euro 30. I think: that is a lot more than the 400 Leke bus fare ($36 vs. $4 USD) but on the other hand it should be a one hour trip and we do get where we are going... OK then, with a handshake we pile in and our taxi pulls out. The road signs indicate we are headed the right direction, but then we head up a side road to… a great view. Our driver turns into a tour guide. He just stops at places for photos, points out stuff that means something, says a lot of stuff in Albanian and generally takes pride in showing us around when he isn't trying to make Gail scream by doing what taxi drivers do best... passing wildly on blind corners, skimming past cows and so on. Eventually I let him know we are from California, at which he smiles and says “O’tell Kaleefornya!” and starts humming the song before switching the radio station from Albanian music (I suppose that was to heighten the tour experience) to a classic rock station.
We stop at this innocuous looking restaurant, he gestures us follow and it opens to the most amazing, multi-tiered set of patios stepping up the hillside right over a rushing river, waterfalls on all sides, giant trees and… an English speaking young waiter!
We are way out somewhere along the coast, there is a guy with a wagon full of hay, pulled slowly by a mule up the road, and here, HERE! There is a guy who speaks English? Through him we find out our taxi driver is from this area, he is taking great pride in showing us his beautiful home, yes we are heading to Himarë, about some of the places we have seen, and that it is time to go. We use the opportunity to thank our driver as well. As we drive along in our black Mercedes,"air condition" cab (with all four air conditioners rolled down) along the coast and up the hills, we are serenaded by the loudest chorus of locusts? grasshoppers? crickets I have ever heard. Beautiful but almost deafening. We have to stop for cows on the road, slow down for horses wandering about, carefully pass fully loaded mules and tractors. Of course we make up the time by suddenly accelerating to 100KMH and screaming through the curves, only to lock up the brakes at the next mule or group of people walking. We pass through small towns that are ugly grey, crumbling concrete structures, the town square dominated by an imposing tile mural of the workers uniting or praising the revolutionary leader, or else there are these three concrete spears pointing high with red stars on the top.
An odd thing: many houses have teddy bears hung on them, off the roof up up high on the wall. Teddy bears. A fertility ritual?
(Later note: we ask and no one seems to know what they are, so finally I give up on getting some quaint explanation and I just Google it. The short answer: another superstition to ward off the "Evil Eye." This evil eye business is big time over here. I suddenly realize I am in a big power position: as a teacher, I have cultivated a professional "EVIL EYE." Oh yea!)
We arrive in Himarë (also called Himara) just before noon (actually pulling up next to a guy walking down the road, rolling down the window and asking him where Hotel Mare is) find our hotel and he drops us off. Again we are surprised, here in this little beach town is this new, beautiful four story building, six rooms with balconies facing the Adriatic, modern interior and very spacious. The beach below us is fantastic and just curves away toward town. We are literally right on the beach and almost every umbrella, every bed is empty. Compared to the small towns and hamlets we have driven through, it seems like a major destination. Sort of.
The hotel owners are helpful and gracious, and though they spoke no English (or Italian or German, Spanish, French) we managed to get settled in. She brought us a welcome treat of cold water and some apricots just drowned in clear, pure honey. Once we got the WiFi access figured out, I used a Google Translate app to write out Albanian phrases such as “do you have beach towels we can use?” and “the room is beautiful” and “do you have children? We have two.” At this, our host grabbed her husband and we had a nice conversation through the translation app.
“Thank you for the beach towels and treats.” A nod.
Then the big question: “Where and what time do we get the bus to Vlore and Fier?”
Ahhh… now we are talking.
We walk the half-kilometer into the nearly empty town, grab a quick lunch and have the most awful wine I have ever tasted. (We actually threw it away. Yes, threw it away. As in pour it into an empty water bottle “for later” and drop it off on the way out of town.) We returned to our room, grabbed the beach towels and hit the pebbly beach for a few hours. The pebbles are white, larger at the water’s edge and turn to sand further inland. The whole coast is alive with the loud buzz of the grasshoppers or locusts. (We didn’t know it at the time, but this noise wouldn’t end until we left Croatia, weeks later.) While we were on the beach, we met one of the grasshoppers up close and personal. It landed on Gail and was at least three inches long, and colored a communist army grey green. Amazing, huge, and not the least bit scared of a screaming woman. Fresh water bubbles up in the bay from springs, and a cold stream of fresh water cuts across the beach, emptying into the bay. The water is cool and refreshing, and after swimming in the bay I go lay in the creek to rinse off before sleeping on the beach bed. Late, late in the afternoon, close to sunset, a family shows up to go swimming.
Below our guest house we notice two concrete pill-box gun emplacements, right on the beach. Supposedly there are about 700,000 of them scattered throughout Albania, remnants of a paranoid communist dictator who was convinced the whole world was going to invade. The roads went to hell, the infrastructure needs major work, garbage pickup, building renovation and public services all need work, but by god, if too many tourists start to invade they will be ready to fight us all off! Now the pillboxes are used for storage, living, hidden places for romantic rendezvous, or filled in.
We ended up with pizza for dinner. We found a bar, it looked like pizza on the menu, there was an outdoor pizza oven looking thing, and the view over the ocean was beautiful. After dinner we walked through Himarë and found the bus gathering area, just as our hostess told us: across the street from the Coke sign, at the corner by the Farmaci. The formerly almost-empty town was busy with people out for the evening. We got to bed by 23:00 so we could be up at 4:00 to catch the bus at 5:00.
Today I learned that the people know where the buses gather and what time they leave, so the trick is to find someone you can ask. To that end, I have prepared for tomorrow’s trip. On my iPod I have saved the phrases, “We want to connect to Berat, please help us.” and “Where do I find the bus to Berat?” and “What time does the bus leave for Berat?” We will see if it helps.