Macedonia
I left off last time having just arrived in Skopje, capital of Macedonia, and I was moaning about taxi drivers. In fact getting back to the bus terminal when I left cost me about 20% less than when I arrived, not the 50% I suggested.
Skopje hasn’t got a lot of old stuff because it got flattened by an earthquake in 1963 which killed over 1000 people. I had read about a film made right after the event and it was a bit of a legend at film festivals of the time. It was showing on a continuous loop at a museum and I popped in to have a look. It wasn’t bad until it got to the burial scenes and I left after ten minutes of mourners lying on the fresh graves and crying. It was a bit fraught. The biggest attraction for tourists in Skopje is the developing city centre. As usual there is a river running through the place and it also has the old stone bridge, and either side of this the Macedonian government is creating an extensive series of paved areas and filling them with grandiose, patriotic statues that have no artistic merit but they a BIG. It’s kind of like Las Vegas in marble and bronze. In the centre of the areas on the two sides of the bridge are the real show-off bits – on top of pedestals that are also very complicated fountains, are massive sculptures of warriors, one with sword drawn looking fierce and wise and the other on a snorting rearing horse. I reckon they are about 5 stories high. Officially these are described as just warriors but they are actually Alexander the Great and his old man Phil the 2nd.
You may be aware that the Greeks are being very nasty to the Macedonians because they think they are cheeky using that name for their country when the name belongs to the Greeks. In their opinion. They are equally upset that the Macedonians have appropriated Alexander as one of theirs so these statues are not just Macedonians skiting about their past, they are also a very big upward pointing finger at the Greeks. If you know anyone who is Greek, ask them about the situation of Macedonia and watch common sense run away.
The Skopje bus terminal is a dark depressing place under a big flyover and as usual I got there early just in case something went wrong, and it did as the 10.30 bus became 11.30. There is nowhere to go outside and sit down so I went into a cafe and there was a replay of the ABs v Argentina on the telly. I was delighted because although I tried to watch it live I only got about a quarter of it on a very small screen covered with advertising and I was happy to spend the time waiting there with my one cup of fruit tea before heading to Bitola. It’s a nice little town with it’s best site being a set of Roman ruins with floor mosaics decaying away in the open air, but the good fun was on the first night when I got talking to, and then checking out wine, with a couple of Slovenian guys. About 4 years ago they had spent five weeks camper vanning around NZ and were big fans – one still looks up the Stuff site every day. Luckily I twigged to their being a real couple before I told any war stories about being in the YMCA in Miami many years ago. Macedonia certainly has the best wine in the Balkans. Then to Ohrid which is on the shores of a lake of the same name and a very busy tourist town. I arrived well before check in time at my hotel so decided to walk the two ks from the bus terminal towing my faithful bag. It was really easy because for the only time in Macedonia the street signs also had Latin script and I was within 100m of the hotel when suddenly I was bumping through a maze of cobbled lanes with no street signs at all. I knew I was close but just could not find the place. On my first circuit of the possible streets I asked several people who all said something like”it’s just back there” and one lady selling little cloth things just said “NO”. However when I came around the third time she took pity on me and pointed to a place about 20m away which I had been passed three times but hadn’t spied the little bit of a sign that was in Latin script. It all turned out well because they had overbooked the sort of room I had reserved and I ended up in a very large suite.
That night I inadvertently insulted a waiter. Because I was going to Albania the next day I had carefully worked out that by buying wine of a certain value I could get rid of my Macedonian dinars. It all went to plan and when I got the bill I tossed in my pocket full of coins along with the payment. Tipping is not generally a big thing in the Balkans but obviously in Ohrid it is. The coins were flung back on my table with the comment that this is nothing. I tried to explain that I wasn’t being insulting but that I was going to Albania and had no other money. That earned a very ironic “Have a nice trip”.
And I did, because when I had finally found that hotel in Ohrid I asked about getting across the border and a man who worked at the hotel offered to take me for a reasonable fee. He duly turned up with an immaculate old Merc and we had a further discussion about his taking me all the way to my destination city, rather than to the Albanian border town, and I accepted. Thank goodness because as we went through that very small border town there was no evidence of any transport although I am sure there would be for those who can speak Albanian.
Macedonia is a nice place to visit and very good to ones bank account. It has scenic countryside, great mountain drives and good food and wine. Add it to your list.
Albania.
I was expecting something chaotic and rubbish covered, with old Mercedes everywhere, and only the later is true, although there are quite a few newish ones as well. Chaos does exist at the bus leaving places if you don’t speak Albanian. My attempt at trying to find out about buses going from Korca (where the man from Ohrid took me) to Gjirokastra was lengthy and not entirely conclusive because where I was is not a place tourists visit much and there is nowhere to find such things out. I did find a sign pointing a tourist info place but I think it was someones idea of a joke. The only locals who spoke any english didn’t know much about buses and on the weight of evidence I decided that there was probably only one bus every second day and the day I wanted was the wrong one. I have always said that in these situations you spend money and solve the situation – such things are of course easier to say than do, but in the end I got a taxi and took a four and a half hour ride to Gjirokastra. Along the way I learnt why there are not regular buses as the road never had a straight of more than 200m and the surface varied between not very good to appalling, and we went over four mountain passes. All for NZ $130.
Getting out of Gjirokastra was similarly a problem of timing so I repeated the solution. The road from there to Berat was partly along the main highway to the capital Tirana, and was a showpiece of recent highway building but the second bit was not. About halfway my frustrated never-to-be-F1 driver noticed his temperature gauge was in the red which necessitated a stop, lots of phone calls, a very careful removing of the radiator cap and a fair bit of talking. Naturally it cooled down and when we left again it was not long before we hit the nasty road so the speed went down dramatically and the problem went away. Our stop was at a petrol station with a brand name I have seen a few of – Kastrati.
Albania has had a recent history of a King Zogu 1 before WW2, occupation by Italy followed by Germany, a People’s Republic lead by Hoxha afterwards (I have been to the house he was born in!!!), and he went through a Stalinist phase, then Maoist one with a Cultural Revolution, and then solo. All the time keeping the country locked up. He died in 1985 and in 1992 elections ended the communist rule. Free market policies in the literal sense meant things changed completely and the rest of Europe found their Mercedes had decided to go away and holiday in Albania. Then in 1997 about 70% of Albanians lost their savings in collapsed pyramid schemes. I mention all this because you would think a country that has had to put up with all of that might be a bit withdrawn and strange. It isn’t to my eyes, and yes you do see donkeys and horses being used, and crumbling Communist-era apartment buildings and the mushroom-shaped concrete bunkers, but you also see towns and cities creating paved central areas, the cafe lifestyle, lots of roadworks and plenty of other indications that these guys are getting on with becoming modern in the way they want. All with the usual Balkan background of venal and corrupt politicians and criminal business operators. I asked one local in Berat about a guy I had seen driving around in a Porsche Cayenne and the answer was he was a businessman but had been a gangster and really still was.
I have been doing little surveys of the percentage of cars that are Mercedes and I reckon it is close to 50% but a local told me the actual figure is over 70% – sounds a bit high to me. I haven’t had the language to check with the taxi guys I have used as to where their cars came from, but the older ones are likely stolen. I presume that with EU applications being considered this trade has diminished and boringly I have been told Germany has taken to shipping second hand cars to Albania. The traffic cops are all over the place and are keen to make additions to their savings. They have little lolly-pop things about 30cm long that they wave at you when they want a chat. The first time it happened to a car I was in the driver produced eight certificates and other bits of paper before we got let off, and so far money hasn’t changed hands but there is usually a reference to the tourist passenger which might reduce the greed.
All of the places I have been have tourist attractions of a historical nature and in Berat the Albanians have a little jewel. It has the usual crappy new bit but up the side of the valley it is in are firstly small “suburbs” of old white Ottoman houses which look great, and on top of the hill is a fully operating fortified village complete with ruined castle. A bit like the villages on hills in the Dordogne but less developed. I wandered around there for a morning and in the castle area saw some steps going down into the ground all surrounded by weeds and shrubs – I climbed down and nearly dropped into the old water cistern which was very big and very deep and had lots of plastic bottles floating in the bottom – it was marked on my map but it was a very small scale. Health and safety is not yet a priority in Albania. My second evening meal in Berat turned out to be quite interesting as I got talking to a German couple I had exchanged a few hellos with previously. He was a really good guy – had been an accountant and retired at 57 and now 65, travelled for 4 months each year, NZ was the best place in the world, we agreed on all matters relating to wine including the ones in Chile, Argentina and Australia (Margaret River), and he also was generous enough to let his wife drive his car home every time they went out for meals in the evening. Kay, at least, may recognise the some similarities to someone else. I just had to shout him a glass of the very acceptable local house red.
Next day it was back on the bus to go from Berat to Tirana. Berat has a working and helpful tourist info place and they told me to rock up in the morning to bus place and one goes every half hour, and if the one leaving looks a bit local and slow just wait at the cafe for the next one. What they didn’t tell and I didn’t know was that they have a new terminal on the outskirts of town. That created a few minutes of travel confusion but I soon got a taxi to the new place which was all shiny with no weeds or holes in the paving, also no place for travellers to sit or be under cover because all the buildings are cafes. I was sort of chatting with a local who asked me if I saw anything missing – took me a while. Buses are a cash business in Albania with no tickets and a driver’s helper with an impressive memory. They stop everywhere and the first stop is usually 200m ouside the leaving place, and people who want to get off on the side of a motorway have no problem.
When we arrived in Tirana the bus stopped somewhere that bore no relation to any information I had so I had to deal with the dreaded taxi guys and having got a bit off the asking price from an English speaker, set off to my hotel. The Rooms. It was hard to find but the driver took the challenge personally and eventually it turned out it was on the second floor of a building. I haven’t bored you with anything about the various hotels I have stayed in but this one is a bit different. Because it is the last place on the solo bit I have treated myself a little, and it is very new, extremely modern and stylish, muted colours, sharp looking furniture and very high tech. So much so that when I woke up on the first morning I though it must still be night because it was dark and I went back to sleep. Next time I woke up it was still dark but I looked at my watch and it was 9.15. The lights have four settings on a pad on the wall and the morning one turns off the lights but also very sneakily and quietly lowers metal shutters outside, and apparently I had pushed the wrong button during the night and they stayed down. The coolest lights thing is that when you open the cupboard to hang up your unironed clothes the the bar has little lights along it so you can see all the wrinkles in the shirts. It also has a very upmarket bathroom and in the shower there are three chunky square anonymous handle things in a row down the wall. It turns out the top one if turned to the right sets off the rain shower right above you and of course it is very cold to start with. It has a few other settings but none with quite the same effect on my language. I did have a shower system in a hotel a few days ago that had 27 nozzles but only the ordinary main one worked.
Tirana is a biggish city with a residue of stuff from the Hoxha times and the beginnings of new flash buildings. It is quite colourful because when the elected government got started they thought they would cheer people up by painting the dreary apartment buildings interesting bright colours. They have faded and peeled a bit but it adds character. Just in case you wondered I can authoritatively tell you that the best Albanian red wine is pretty good, and it cost me NZ$16 from a nearby wine shop, and I made it last three nights. I am staying in the trendy area apparently and there are heaps of cafes, bars and restaurants. The footpaths are not trendy and in two days I have managed to smack the same toe into an unmoving protuberances with bloody results. All through the Balkans crossing roads is a bit of a challenge but more so in Tirana, even on a green light on a crossing. It seems drivers are allowed to go through if there is no one there and the definition of no one is flexible. One night a shaven headed, gold necklaced young man in a new Volvo decided I wasn’t there and nearly cleaned me up. I reacted by slapping my hand on the bonnet of his car and walked on. I knew there was a bit of agro coming when he revved up and slid to halt beside me and jumped out – he started yelling in Albanian and I kept walking and then he twigged I must be a tourist and he showed a very complete grasp of english including telling me I was an f…… prick. I was ready to run but he gave up at that stage. Brightened up the evening nicely.
One surprising thing, in the whole of this trip I have not heard a NZ accent. A few from across the ditch including a very strange couple off to a maths conference in Montenegro and a few hybrids who immigrated there and are back having a look. Heaps of Germans and Dutch. Most of the tourists are really old – probably in their late sixties even, and it really annoys me when you go to look at something and are hindered by a busload of them who have filled the place up while their guide gives an interminable description of the meaning of some boring religious icon or similar. The women usually look politely interested and the men have obviously turned off. In Kosovo one patently bewildered Chinese guy wandered out of the monastery church and when I tried a “having fun” he managed a “no”.
My next job is to get to the Tirana airport, fly to Athens and meet Kay at the airport and we will both take off for Crete. There is room for travel confusion in that simple statement. Albania has been something of a revelation and I like it. There are lots of contrasts and you can see places where it looks like fifty years ago, and then you can be extremely up to date as I am right now sitting bat the desk in my electronic room looking out a big open window at some of those painted apartments.
Mirupafshim.
Dennis.