it's still raining

Albania

Fed by the great sea,
Storms cannot rain themselves out,
We're again beset.

After sleeping in a real bed and managing not to suffocate from the stench of our semi-rotten still-mostly-soaked clothing hanging about the room, we threw open all the windows to fumigate the place and packed our things. Hopefully the hotel isn't too upset about any lingering odours.

This place offers breakfast! It would be foolish of us to refuse it, so we headed into the restaurant and upstairs to have a seat. That area was decorated in the style of a hunting lodge, as near as I can guess, and the table we sat at sported a candleabra made of ram antlers and perched on a pair of skin rugs. The chairs were squat things with woven wicker seats and dark stain, and on all the walls around hung decorations ranging from animal heads to lutes. We ordered cappuccinos, and as Vladko had warned us were sorely disappointed by them. In Albania, they make cappuccino from a powder. You're better off with espresso.

The breakfast we were presented with consisted of fluffy omelettes, a basket of bread to share, a dish of fruit marmelade/chutney, some butter, and the drinks. All in all, of course, it wasn't quite the number of calories we are accustomed to for our morning meal, but it was deliciously prepared, and we were happy to consume it. That taken care of, we shuffled back to our room to pack the bikes, eat the rolls left over from last night, and deal with the bill. It is a strange feeling to hand 6000 units of currency to someone for a stay in a hotel, let me tell you, but the exchange rate actually brings that price to a mere 42€.

At a main intersection in Shkoder, a horse stood, blocking traffic.

We headed out of the city along some highways, through many poor areas. As we saw last night, Albania doesn't seem upset or restless, but it is rather poor and some things about us have surprised us. Garbage is strewn about haphazardly, and pits along the road serve as dumps in some places. In other places, its hillsides. Truly, our solutions to "the garbage problem" (as Evan noted) are no better; burying it doesn't solve anything. It's a shame to spoil the beauty of this place, though...

The weather treated us to a relatively rainless day, and we happily chatted as we swept through village after village. Our map indicates a motorway as the only means of getting from Shkoder to Durrës, and we were nervous about that. Typically in Europe, bicycles are not permitted on such roads, but the map didn't show an alternative. We paused in front of the giant board warning that no bicycles, pedestrians, ox carts, horses, scooters, or motorcycles with small engines were allowed on the road. While we were debating, several eager Albanians came up to us and asked if we were lost or needed directions, and we told them we wished to go to Durrës. They ushered us onto the road, and as we saw scooters and walkers pass by, we knew we'd be fine.

The "motorway" was exquisitely paved. Many parts of the other highway in Albania had been rather more rough, but this was smooth sailing all the way to Durrës. The only thing we lamented was that much of the terrain was flat, providing easy cycling but not much of interest to look at. By afternoon, we had made all our observations on the differences in things we saw between this country and the others, and we idly chatted about nothing in particular until we reached Durrës.

Durrës is a large port town on the northern part of the Albanian coast. I don't know how many people live there, but it's evidently fairly trafficked by tourists from Italy, mainly. They have been beset by all manner of Italian cultural influence, including the presence of a Conad -- we shopped at that supermarket chain a lot during our time along the boot country. The Durrës Conad is located in the Galaktik Shopping Centar, a new complex on the edge of town which is outfitted with its own security guard, "luxury" car dealership, fine café, suit tailor, and supermarket. Everyone who shops there is impeccably dressed and arrives in the BMW or Mercedes model of his choice. Even accompanying children show no evidence of dirt. We walked in, Evan outfitted with a makeshift rainjacket fashioned from a garbage bag and both of us covered in mud.

A quick shopping trip later, we realised that Italy had also exported its prices to this supermarket, and we wondered whether we'll have enough Lek to finish the trip without getting more. We drank our import beers and pondered this point until we heard a not-so-far-off crash of thunder and looked up to see a great storm brewing over the Adriatic.

We quickly hopped on our bicycles and rode southward toward the beaches; Vladko had told us that there were miles and miles of undeveloped beach in Albania, and we were hoping to capitalise on some prime camping spots there. This was evidently not the part of Albania he was referring to; the entire coast here is jammed with run-down and off-season hotels and apartment complexes. Half the buildings are abandoned or unfinished, and the other half are seedy, bearing names like "Alibi Hotel." There was no open place to camp.

With the storm coming ever nearer and the sky growing ever darker, we became desperate for a place to camp. We agreed to take the next access out to the beach, saying that we could set on the beach there and simply move if necessary (but certain that the Albanian authorities would not do anything to discourage foreign money coming through their country). The beach sand was shifty and uncertain, but the access we'd taken down to it led past the pavillion of an off-season hotel, which evidently served as a restaurant eating area during summertime.

Well, it was the shadiest, hoboest thing we had decided to do so far, but... with electricity cracking through the sky in bolts and the clouds threatening to burst, we set ourselves up to camp amid the solid-looking wooden tables. There is just space enough at the back for us to lay out a sleeping bag, but first we had to cook.

Dinner was delicious, and no one seems to have noticed (or cared about) our presence here, so... I guess we're laying the sleeping bag out. After a bit of adventure gaming (thanks in no small part to the wonderful download speeds in our hotel last night), we're ready for bed. But, damn, are the bugs bad here.