So I found myself in a taxi with a man named Reef who was in his late 30s/ early 40s out of the Skopje airport at 12:30 in the morning. He asked what an American was doing in Skopje, I replied with my story about a fascination with the Balkans as we turned down a dark highway. The highway was vacant and looked like a potential kidnapping situation until the sign 20 km to Skopje was illuminated and I breathed a quick sigh of relief.
The next day I woke up and walked in circles until I found the lion bridge to cross into the Old town area, a little mix of Turkish markets, Dubrovnik beige stoned streets and many men in colorful clothing lined the streets. Later on, I approached the newer side of town and decided upon a trip to the Museum of the Macedonian Struggle. Naturally, being the only visitor to the museum, I entered and paid my 5 euros and quickly was told, "You may not enter without a guide." To which I replied desperately, "But, it´s just me." And was rapidly reminded, "It´s the rules." So my tour guide put on his suit jacket and cleaned his glasses and we made our way into the hidden tours. As he continued to tell me the marvelous and extensive story of the Macedonian struggle, I worked on making eye contact and nodding, thinking to myself, how the hell am I going to pay attention to this guy for the next two hours and get to understand what´s happening here? Luckily, we were rescued by the desperation of the museum director for the solo English speaking guide to lead a tour of 50 random English speakers, and so they accompanied me as I learned about the many assassinations, territory claims and independence movement of Macedonians. Later on, while being the only solo visitor at the City museum, the guide recommended a snack of Ayjur and Bosa and so went to the supermarket and indulged in some Macedonian splendor.
The next day, I woke up at 6 am and headed to Prishtina, Kosovo. Kosovo is a place that less than 20 years ago was a center of struggle for between Albania and Serbia. It wasn´t until recently, 2008 that it gained independence and not until 2013 that it was given complete authority to rule itself in Prishtina. As I strolled down Bill Clinton Avenue, I was impressed with the life that was present in the streets. Left, right and center, people were dining, taking coffees, artistic exhibitions, music festivals. I thought of the wealth of a country like Venezuela and the lack of life on the streets and how funny it is that Kosovo, a country with one of the highest unemployment rates in Europe seemed so alive and resilient. The museum was an odd experience, sponsored by NATO, but lacking the signs of any of NATO´s money. One had to wonder what´s the point.
The next morning, I made myself to the capital of Albania, Tirana, a colorful city with the very odd Mumja discotheque, now art exposition, which used to actually host the Enver Hoxha museum. Enver Hoxha was one of Albania´s fierce leaders from the mid 1940s to 1985. He led the country through periods of resistance against Yugoslavia, unified with Communist Russia during the 1950s and even went so far to join the Maoists for a large part of the 1960s. Tirana was a vibrant city, complete with many bunkers, rumored to be used for teenagers looking for a place to lose their virginity. One would find the bridges lined with books and a well-planned city with greenery all around. The history museum there was not such an adventure and without the help of the Lonely Planet, I wouldn´t have survived. All in Albanian, I was not able to patch the pieces of the puzzle together as much as I would have liked. I enjoyed an evening meal with a French friend, Silva, and we exchanged ideas about the lack of women in the city and the overall friendliness of Albanians but lack of willingness to discuss the past.
The bus to Berat the next morning was an interesting adventure. A ride that normally takes 2.5 set us back 4 hours down dusty, gravel one way roads. It appeared that I was appearing to enter the more "Wild West" of Albania. Berat, a historical city that in the past was known as one of the major capitals of the Ottoman Empire, was a picturesque town built into the city. Although, I am not really sure what else was happening there. I walked around for about 2 hours through the downtown and saw a handful of people. "All the people are at the beaches," said the hotel manager and so, that´s where I headed.
The next morning on a bus ride to Saranda, Albania, I finished my fourth book over the last 5 days. When traveling alone, you have a lot of time for contemplation, reading and relaxation and so I indulged while the summer was still going strong. In the bus, I sat next to some 17 year old Albanian boys who were off to the beaches for a boys trip, something that according to them, doesn´t happen for young Albanian women. "And why weren´t there so many Albanian women on the streets at night in Tirana?" I asked curiously. "It´s just not a thing in our culture." The boy with the best English said. Whatever that means.
When I reached Saranda, my heart leapt, finally the beach. The winds of the coastal city and salty air, I realized how much I missed Barcelona, longing for this sunny seaside. My quick flutter of fun was curtly interrupted by an injection of frustration unable to find the hostel. As my blood sugar dropped rapidly and face flushed, I took refuge and dove into a pizza before attempting to find my hostal. When I finally arrived at the top of the 8th floor, last door on the left, instructions that seemed like an email from a CIA agent, I was pleasantly welcomed with a shot of Raki and an amazing view of a beach just walking distance from the hostal. Do check out the Hairy Lemon hostel if you are in Saranda, Annette is a doll and it is a place that attracts all kinds of types, young, old, families, couples, singles, etc. After a long day in the bus, I headed to the beach, and was so happy I could leave whatever I wanted on the shore while I took a swim.
The next day, I spent wandering amidst old Grecian/ Albanian ruins in the city of Butrint and napping in one of the infamous Southern Albanian beaches in the town of Ksamil. A little bit of old amongst a lot of new with the development of high rises and other apartments in Saranda attracting Scandinavians to the beaches and coastline predicted to be Europe´s next Croatia.
All in all, a route that was somewhat educational but very interesting. After living in Thailand and traveling in Vietnam, it seems to me that some countries are so good at being hospitable (Thailand) and others want you to completely understand what has happened and what might happen because of the past (Vietnam). This is just a fraction of my adventures and there is more to come. To me and clearly, to other adventurous backpackers I met along the way, the Balkans are something that you can enjoy on so many levels; historically, physically and emotionally and I love the energy produced by the locals and travelers one meets along the way in this new and still rather untouched part of Europe.
The next day I woke up and walked in circles until I found the lion bridge to cross into the Old town area, a little mix of Turkish markets, Dubrovnik beige stoned streets and many men in colorful clothing lined the streets. Later on, I approached the newer side of town and decided upon a trip to the Museum of the Macedonian Struggle. Naturally, being the only visitor to the museum, I entered and paid my 5 euros and quickly was told, "You may not enter without a guide." To which I replied desperately, "But, it´s just me." And was rapidly reminded, "It´s the rules." So my tour guide put on his suit jacket and cleaned his glasses and we made our way into the hidden tours. As he continued to tell me the marvelous and extensive story of the Macedonian struggle, I worked on making eye contact and nodding, thinking to myself, how the hell am I going to pay attention to this guy for the next two hours and get to understand what´s happening here? Luckily, we were rescued by the desperation of the museum director for the solo English speaking guide to lead a tour of 50 random English speakers, and so they accompanied me as I learned about the many assassinations, territory claims and independence movement of Macedonians. Later on, while being the only solo visitor at the City museum, the guide recommended a snack of Ayjur and Bosa and so went to the supermarket and indulged in some Macedonian splendor.
The next day, I woke up at 6 am and headed to Prishtina, Kosovo. Kosovo is a place that less than 20 years ago was a center of struggle for between Albania and Serbia. It wasn´t until recently, 2008 that it gained independence and not until 2013 that it was given complete authority to rule itself in Prishtina. As I strolled down Bill Clinton Avenue, I was impressed with the life that was present in the streets. Left, right and center, people were dining, taking coffees, artistic exhibitions, music festivals. I thought of the wealth of a country like Venezuela and the lack of life on the streets and how funny it is that Kosovo, a country with one of the highest unemployment rates in Europe seemed so alive and resilient. The museum was an odd experience, sponsored by NATO, but lacking the signs of any of NATO´s money. One had to wonder what´s the point.
Museum of History Kosovo
The next morning, I made myself to the capital of Albania, Tirana, a colorful city with the very odd Mumja discotheque, now art exposition, which used to actually host the Enver Hoxha museum. Enver Hoxha was one of Albania´s fierce leaders from the mid 1940s to 1985. He led the country through periods of resistance against Yugoslavia, unified with Communist Russia during the 1950s and even went so far to join the Maoists for a large part of the 1960s. Tirana was a vibrant city, complete with many bunkers, rumored to be used for teenagers looking for a place to lose their virginity. One would find the bridges lined with books and a well-planned city with greenery all around. The history museum there was not such an adventure and without the help of the Lonely Planet, I wouldn´t have survived. All in Albanian, I was not able to patch the pieces of the puzzle together as much as I would have liked. I enjoyed an evening meal with a French friend, Silva, and we exchanged ideas about the lack of women in the city and the overall friendliness of Albanians but lack of willingness to discuss the past.
Kumja Discotheque, Tirana
Graffiti Art, Tirana
Berat, Albania
Berat, Albania
The next morning on a bus ride to Saranda, Albania, I finished my fourth book over the last 5 days. When traveling alone, you have a lot of time for contemplation, reading and relaxation and so I indulged while the summer was still going strong. In the bus, I sat next to some 17 year old Albanian boys who were off to the beaches for a boys trip, something that according to them, doesn´t happen for young Albanian women. "And why weren´t there so many Albanian women on the streets at night in Tirana?" I asked curiously. "It´s just not a thing in our culture." The boy with the best English said. Whatever that means.
When I reached Saranda, my heart leapt, finally the beach. The winds of the coastal city and salty air, I realized how much I missed Barcelona, longing for this sunny seaside. My quick flutter of fun was curtly interrupted by an injection of frustration unable to find the hostel. As my blood sugar dropped rapidly and face flushed, I took refuge and dove into a pizza before attempting to find my hostal. When I finally arrived at the top of the 8th floor, last door on the left, instructions that seemed like an email from a CIA agent, I was pleasantly welcomed with a shot of Raki and an amazing view of a beach just walking distance from the hostal. Do check out the Hairy Lemon hostel if you are in Saranda, Annette is a doll and it is a place that attracts all kinds of types, young, old, families, couples, singles, etc. After a long day in the bus, I headed to the beach, and was so happy I could leave whatever I wanted on the shore while I took a swim.
The next day, I spent wandering amidst old Grecian/ Albanian ruins in the city of Butrint and napping in one of the infamous Southern Albanian beaches in the town of Ksamil. A little bit of old amongst a lot of new with the development of high rises and other apartments in Saranda attracting Scandinavians to the beaches and coastline predicted to be Europe´s next Croatia.
Ksamil, Albania
All in all, a route that was somewhat educational but very interesting. After living in Thailand and traveling in Vietnam, it seems to me that some countries are so good at being hospitable (Thailand) and others want you to completely understand what has happened and what might happen because of the past (Vietnam). This is just a fraction of my adventures and there is more to come. To me and clearly, to other adventurous backpackers I met along the way, the Balkans are something that you can enjoy on so many levels; historically, physically and emotionally and I love the energy produced by the locals and travelers one meets along the way in this new and still rather untouched part of Europe.
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