At last
entry, I was baking in the sun in Dubrovnik, Croatia, impatiently waiting for a
bus to take us to Kotor, Montenegro. Presently, I am hiding from the sun in
Tirana, Albania, as we patiently (because there is air conditioning) wait for a
bus to take us on an easy thirteen hours overnight to Saranda. The word easy
is, of course, an utter farce, but we are pretending that not having to pay a
night’s lodging is exactly what we were intending. In all reality, of course,
we bumbled through a conversation with five Albanian men on a random Tirana
street who were highly amused as we attempted to use our little English-speaking
heads appropriately to indicate yes and no. Conveniently, Albanians shake their
heads for yes and nod for no, so this conversation was a total Monty Python
skit and it resulted in us agreeing to bus tickets to Saranda instead of
Drymades, which is all fine because we don’t care where we go, except that this
particular bus is going to take thirteen hours overnight and put us at a party
beach town at five in the morning (just in time for the walk of shame).
It’s ok, though, because Tirana has
this massive iguana sitting in a cage on the street and we’re best friends.
Needless to say, our trip itinerary
is entirely haphazard. Take, for example, our three day stint in Montenegro.
From Dubrovnik, we did indeed intend to go to Kotor, a gorgeous Medieval town
with cobblestones and battlements and fortified castle walls and accompanying
religious iconography and everything else that makes a European town “charming”.
We even had a private room in a hostel overlooking the main square with green
shutters that opened over a gelato shop. Charming.
There was even a precious little high school choir singing and dancing in a style not unlike Medieval Glee. Charming charming charming.
After Kotor, though, things got a
little…accidental. At the bus station in Kotor, we kind of just got on a bus to
Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro, intending to simply get on another bus
upon arrival and head straight to…Serbia? We didn’t know. Of course, upon
arriving at Podgorica, we found it to be an authentic European city where
tourists do not ever go, which meant that there wasn’t a bus anywhere, let
alone to Serbia, until the next day (and the bus station toilets were just well
caulked holes in the ground). Temporarily stranded in Podgorica, we took a room
where the proprietor kept trying to convince us that we wouldn’t both fit in a
twin sized bed. Later that night, squashed in said bed watching Animal Planet
(in English!), Chris revealed to me his underhanded (i.e. secret from me
because he knew I’d bop him in the head) interest in going to Kosovo. I then
revealed to Chris Serbia’s equally underhanded interest in going to Kosovo, and
after extensive googling led by me and Travel State, it was decided that Serbia
and Kosovo had best be left alone by these two Americans (and perhaps more
extensively investigated by another set of Americans with a bit of an upper
hand with these kinds of things). Albania it was! Of course, when we returned
to hole-in-the-floor bus station the next day, we were convinced to take
tickets to Ulcinj, unless we wanted to take a taxi all the way to Albania for
100 euro. We did not. Off to Ulcinj (wherever that was) we went.
As with any Chris and Lauren
experimentation, it was only after getting on the bus that we realized Ulcinj
wasn’t even mentioned in the guidebook. Anticipating spending the night in a
goat barn in a Montenegro coastal village, we were pleasantly surprised to
arrive at a relatively well developed bus station staffed by relatively
friendly, non-English-speaking workers. Still stuck with the problem of
sleeping, Chris ventured out into the streets to mime his way into some housing,
a feat that usually takes a bit of time and effort. I was confused, then, when
he came almost immediately back and asked if I wouldn’t mind staying with “this
kid” at “his house”. Strangely, I did not, and off we went to meet the
Montenegro version of my own brother, Alex, who took us in his bungee corded
car towards a beautiful, mountainous beach town with stacks of somewhat
well-maintained stucco apartments. It had crossed my mind that we had just been
kidnapped, a thought that was more solidified when our driver stopped to have a
chitchat with some other raggedy gentlemen advertising their own “apartman sobe”
for visitors. By the grace of Christopher, though, we were merely driven to a
lovely apartment block, where “this kid’s” mom greeted us warmly and gave us a
private room with air conditioning. A child even came and gave us a plate of
green squishy fruits that Chris tried to refuse, only to have her swat his hand
and leave the whole plate on the top of our mini fridge, where I sat and waited
for them to hatch baby aliens and eat us. They did not.
To make matters even more hilarious,
Ulcinj had the first sandy beach we had seen on this trip. We swam and
snorkeled quite a bit in Croatia, but the entire experience was marred by the
fact that the beaches were pebbled, which actually means covered in sharp,
jagged rocks that are excruciating to walk through on your way to have a float.
To arrive in a mysterious city in Montenegro casually noted on the map without
any further mention, only to find it to be a pristine (read: untouched by
American backpackers) beach community with real sand and clear water was the
most outrageous of treats. This is why Chris and I are hesitant to change our
ways and make a plan. Ulcinj was not in any way the plan. It wasn’t even in the
book.
And I got to sit in the sea as the
sun started to set and listen to the wailing of a muezzin from a series of
whitewashed minarets that unceremoniously hovered above the city streets, a
haunting song that carried up and over the ramparts of a Medieval Catholic fortress
and out to the blue horizon.
Take that, plans.
And that!
In the morning, we had to rouse Montenegro
Alex at 11:30 to take us to the bus station, where we could finally take a bus
to Shkodra, Albania. However, when we arrived in Shkodra, we found it to be
unpleasantly Guatemala City-esque, save for a massive, silverly mosque that was
designed, truly, like a Star Trek mothership. So, we got off the bus, put our
stuff on the ground, and immediately started to barter. Some shuttle bus driver
arrived and helpfully suggested taking us to Tirana in his air conditioned van,
and when I turned to communicate this to Chris, I found him on a cabbie’s
cellphone talking to an unidentified man about many different topics, from
housing to tickets down the coast. I wish I could describe the scene that led
up to Christopher talking on a strange man’s cellphone to an unidentified
individual in broken English, but alas I was in my own bartering situation and
missed the key details of this most ridiculous of moments. Perhaps the mystery
in itself is what makes that scene my most favorite part of the trip so far. Only
to my boyfriend would this ever happen… I told Chris to say hi for me and that
we should get in the air conditioned van for five euro each. Off to Tirana
(unplanned) we went.
Chris and I have a working knowledge
of many capitals around the world, and what we have learned to expect is that
capitals are gross and expensive. We had low hopes for Tirana. There is
something special about Albania, though. The people are generally nice here and
Tirana proved to be a somewhat decent place, as far as big cities goes. The
stucco buildings are painted cheerful reds and yellows. A massive Orthodox
church dome glints gold in the sun across the street from an aged mosque with
Eastern art scattered across its shabby façade. Many men doing many manly things
are emblazoned in bronze in various green parks dotted with what Chris
jubilantly called “picnickers” and I quietly recognized as homeless guys having
lunch. The streets are lined with trees and flower boxes, and did I mention the
giant iguana in a cage! Tirana is pretty cool and Grandma Gina, another nice
lady that found us in the street and gave us a clean private room, is adorable
in her blue-and-white nautical fifties dress. It’s been nice. We have high
hopes for Saranda and the Drymades beaches down south, which is where you will
find us next, if perhaps you’ve been looking.
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