wayfaringwordhack | Entries tagged with pics: albania

Rainy day photos on our drive from Berat to Vlora. Notice the title. These are not the best photos but I like to think they give a good glimpse of Albania outside of the capital. Clicking will open another window with bigger pics.

The roads in Albania leave a lot to be desired. They are extremely dangerous because of potholes, lack of warning signs, illogical and deadly construction (frex: a six- to eight-inch-high concrete slab on the shoulder of the "freeway" with no indicators of its presence. Hit that just right going 90km/hr and you are going to be in a world of rolling-car hurt), and last but not least, other drivers.

Before 1991 and the collapse of the communist regime, there were only 600 cars in Albania, all owned by party leaders. Only public transportation or good ol' horsepower for the rest of the population.

No wonder the Albanians are such poor, undisciplined drivers. They've only had two decades of practice.

On the roads, you also have to watch out for shepherds and their flocks.

After we crested the hill where we saw the shepherds "grazing" their flocks, the air took on a very disagreeable odor, that of West Texas. Natural gas and oil drilling, anyone? The below shots could be in the Permian Basin, sans all that water...or after a summer thundershower, when the radios are crackling with tornado warnings...

It took us all morning, but once we arrived in Vlora, we were blessed with a ray of light over the sea.

The sunshine was fleeting, so quickly gone I wouldn't have believed it had ever been there if I didn't have the photographic evidence. The rest of the day was wet, wet, wet, and I was sick, sick, sick. The hotel was miserable cold with the electric fuses blowing every 15 minutes or so, way too often to heat the chill tile floors, and the sheets for our king-sized bed were meant for a full, several inches of dingy mattress poking out each side no matter how we remade the bed. Given that, I didn't feel like huddling under the covers. We took refuge in an Israeli bakery where I ate the worst cheesecake of my life and had to listen to awful 70's music,* but the waiter was very nice, except he recommended a very mediocre pizzeria for supper...

After a horrible night of constant coughing, we rose early, had breakfast in a freezing cold "fancy" hotel, and headed back to Tirana so I could be sick in my "own" bed. I was so happy to get back to our apartment that the blaring horns did not bother me a whit. No place like home. :P

_______
Note to self: No more corny frames around the pics. Too tired to undo it on these, though.

* recognize the setting,

pjthompson?

A week before Christmas, Julien had a couple of days off, so we rented a car and drove south, first to Berat, to visit an ancient citadel, then to a mountain pass for a bit of snow and a view of the sea. Wouldn’t you know, as soon as we decided to go on a trip, the fine weather turned rainy and drear.

Because the roads are so poor and hazardous, we arrived after dark in Berat. It was chilly out but the constant rain had stopped, so we decided to walk around the newer part of the city where our hotel was. When I say “newer,” I only mean in relation to the citadel. We stayed in the “old” city where the streets are still paved with stones and the houses are several centuries years old, made of white stone in traditional (at least for this part of the country) Albanian style. How charming after all the soulless concrete of Tirana! See photos of that night walk here.

Sadly, the next day, the rain came back with a vengeance.

I felt like a wimp asking at the hotel if we could take the car up to the citadel. I didn’t know how far it was, I just knew it was uphill. It turned out to be very uphill--so uphill our car almost didn’t make it because it couldn’t get traction on the wet paving stones--and very far uphill. By the time we reached the top, my wimpiness had a nice rosy glow of smug about it.

We paid the entry fee and set out at a swift clip to explore because the rainy had a decidedly frosty nip to it. An Albanian followed us and offered his services as a guide. We accepted, and he obviously felt the nip, too, because he proceeded to take us on a speedy tour.

Please forgive my photographs. Not only were the gray skies unforgiving in the light department, I was trying to take pictures while holding an umbrella in a contrary, capricious wind. First two panoramas:

See? Very uphill. :P

There was a lovely Orthodox church that survived the destruction of the Communist regime that obliterated an obscene number of mosques, churches, cathedrals, tombs, synagogues, etc. I believe the number was something like ~~40,000,~~ but don't quote me on that. (I really think that is the number the "guide" said, but yesty, I saw 2100+ in a Tirana city guide. Maybe the 2k only dealt with Tirana; don't know. 2k seems a lot for a city, but a little village we visited had 8 churches alone--not speaking of other religious buildings, sites, so...) The interior is being renovated, so we didn't get to go in.

A typical door knocker in the village citadel, which is still inhabited by some tenacious Albanian families and guesthouses.

And a collection of black and white photos because, really, the day's light was horrible, sapping the color and life out of everything:

If you want to keep following me, I have more in store for you...

After a very small rant, that is. ;)

Current Music: Bryan Akipa - Sage Mist

No more time to post. Going to have to get my words for the day before the me time evaporates. No sketching at the café, sadly.

Next post: Berat.

Be careful what doors you open in a strange city at night; you never know what you'll let out. Something may follow you through the dim streets and narrow alleys.

A couple J works with at the embassy offered to take us to Krujë with them one afternoon to pick up a rug they had commissioned. Krujë is renowned for its medieval market where they sell modern-day kitsch souvenirs and Albanian antiques. We ate lunch together had dishes besides stew! I will post about the different kinds of stew...one of these days.

In the meantime, Krujë pictures because, before coming to Albania,

asakiyume told me to take lots of photos, and by that, I understood, she'd like to see them, too. ;)

A panorama from the restaurant. You can't see it because of the distance, but Tirana is lost in that haze to the right:

By the time we finished with our late lunch, the sun was already on its way down (the days are getting longer; sunset is around 4:30 now):

The market street:

Some everyday utensils of past days:

They had some stunning bridal chests for sale. We are looking into purchasing one, but it will cost as much to send it to France as it will to buy it, so we'll see if we can swing it. If we can, I'll write more about them and post a picture.

My Real and Internet Lives have coincided again, as they did with the blue trees.

I saw this fellow the other day in a side street near our apartment:

and then following a link on the LJ homepage, something I’m not at all in the habit of doing, I landed here and saw this photo by studentofdogs:

(image via Photobucket)

The background colors are switched around, but the similarities are striking, no? Perhaps the other photographer and I saw alternate universe dogs?

Merry Christmas!

I had bigger ambitions for decorations but between a bad case of the crud, limited time, space, and materials, I decided to keep it simple. Soëlie liked helping out, in any case.

Btw, don't you just love our Albanian stockings? :D They look a bit flat and wonky right now, I know. They're hanging from the heating unit, so I didn't stuff them with anything. Each Christmas, they'll bring back lovely memories.

Current Mood: full of Christmas spirit

Photos from the other day, sans creep.

When you first enter the big park, a hill covered in towering pines greets you. In the grass to the left of the wide path of concrete-made-to-look-like-stone-paving, sprout circles of stumps, waiting to welcome the weary or those who want to sit for a chat.

So much more convivial than benches. The relaxed, friendly atmosphere has a counter, though. Police barracks, fences, and security cameras line the right side of the path, making you more nervous than reassured. Why the need for such measures, you wonder.

When you crest the hill, the sparkle of sun-dazzled waves beckons you, promising that the climb back up the slope won't be too arduous, so why don't you just mosey on down. When you tire of looking at the water,

you can have a seat, just not this one; it's taken:

But there's plenty of room by the cowherd beneath the oaks. Maybe she'll even give you that pair of mittens she's knitting.*

________________
* I know this is a crummy photo, but to my great sadness and annoyance with myself, I am still too shy to approach people and ask if I may take their picture. I saw her knitting but don't know if it really was mittens. I see a lot women sitting on the street who are knitting mittens, so perhaps this woman was, too.

A white Christmas in Tirana? Not likely. A rainy one, probable.

A couple of nights ago, we had a monster rainstorm with scads of lightning and thunder, which we enjoyed from the comfort of our apartment.

Other people, with places to be, were not so fortunate.

The last photo was taken during lightning flash...

The next day, we wanted to take the cable car up the mountain, so we called Vlad the Taximan and he took us there forthwith. Only to discover that the nifty electric show had knocked out the power.

Great timing on our part.

It doesn't end there for me, though. I've been sick. Part of it is fatigue and the city pollution, but thought I might feel better if I went outside for a bit. Julien had forgotten his external hard drive at the house, providing me with the perfect reason to go out. It was drizzling, but nothing major. I knew it was likely to rain, so I took the umbrella and was wearing S instead of having her in the stroller. I'd gone halfway--in other words far enough to make it pointless to go back--when hailstones starting pelting us, ricocheting off the pavement and walls. And of course the rain really began coming down in earnest. My pants were soaked to my knees by time we arrived at the embassy. S was as snug as a bug and didn't mind at all. She, naturally, thought the hail très interessant.

First, a word for Authors of Fantasy Whose Characters Eat in Taverns:

If ever you get slammed by critters/readers because your characters eat the ubiquitous bowl of stew, all you have to say is, "My world is loosely based on Albania, and there, they eat lots of stew."

:P

The second day, upon arriving, I ordered takeout from a neighborhood restaurant, not yet ready to dive into adventures in cooking with two pots and a pan (and no cooking utensils besides soup spoons and freakishly flat forks). Sensing I hadn't a clue and couldn't speak a word in Albanian, the helpful server at the one-room eatery invited me behind the counter where the cook proceeded to lift the lid off seven of the ten pots she had on the counters and enormous range. Each and every one contained a different kind of stew. Her husband (I think) took the lid off another to reveal what looked more like a soup--smaller pieces of what-have-you in a thin broth--something the locals eat for lunch; they didn't offer me that one. So, yeah, lots of stew-like dishes. Oh, and if want rice, you ask for a "pilaf." Easy enough, that.

And for breakfast that morning, in addition to a wonderfully tasty loaf of bread, Julien brought home a profiterole. It looked like this:

Not at all what we are used to. Didn't taste at all like we are used to either. Julien ended up eating it; I would have died of sugar shock had it been up to me to finish it.

In addition to stews, Albanians are verrrrry big on pasta. And pizza. You see as many, if not more, restaurants with Italian dishes on the menu than Albanian fare, and there's a pizzeria on every corner when you're trying to get home.... ahem, sorry about that.*

Fast food, hot dogs, "tost" (still don't know what they mean by that; grilled cheese maybe?), and "krepas" are pretty big, too, not to mention sanduiçs!**
______________
* please tell me you get the silly song reference.
** In Albanian, the cedilla is pronounced "ch"

Perhaps I'm behind the times and this is something that is done a lot, but when I saw this Christmas tree, assembled bottom up, in a florist shop, it shocked me. I called it an "unholy" tree because it felt like seeing a crucifix upside down (I'm not Catholic, but the intention behind flipping the crucifix is what bothers me). I'm probably weird or overly sensitive, but the avant-gardism did not tickle me in any way; rather it made me uncomfortable. Heebie-jeebie city.

Seeing the amount of space in the florist shop, putting the tree upside down may be a problem-solving solution rather than a creative choice, but I still don't like it. At least I can look at it now without shuddering or having to glance away. :P

Thanks, Florist, for letting me photograph your tree. :D

On the Munich-Tirana leg of our flight, S and I were fortunate enough to spy the Alps, snow-capped and majestic. One moment there were clouds and nothing but them and blue sky to see, and the next, that great mountain chain, like a border between ordinary and adventure. Those highest peaks past, the clouds thickened again, and all below was cloaked in mystery. When we came down for a landing, it was to the sight of Rodonit Bay to our right and then mountains to our left. Long, rectangular patchwork fields showed that it certainly wasn't France we were flying over, as did the houses of bright orange, kelly green, and lemon yellow.

J, who arrived here the 2nd, met us at the airport, and a taxi took us to Tirana. I sat in the back with a sleeping S on my lap, bags piled beside me, while J took the front seat next to Vladimir, the driver. Flocks of sheep and turkeys dotted the fields, along with haystacks, like Monet's "Wheatstacks." We even saw a horse-drawn hay wain being loaded by men wielding giant pitchforks, much like Heinrich Burkel portrayed in his "Loading the Hay-Wagon," sans the colorful, period clothes:

(Image via: Museum Syndicate)

Tirana seemed to creep up on us. Solitary houses, or apartment buildings, five or more stories high dot the countryside, slowly getting closer together, cozying up to odd businesses like like statuary sellers, car washes, bathroom/plumbery outfitters. One minute the city isn't really there, then it is, a mishmash of styles and contradictions, Communist concrete and thriving capitalist consumerism. Rundown buildings bristling with dingy satellite dishes, festooned with drying laundry, and garlanded with electrical wires are mixed pellmell with dernier cri supermarket architecture, cafes, and casinos. Cars race up and down wide avenues, paying little heed to lights and pedestrians, their drivers with one hand permanently on the horn. Not quite as loud as Hanoi, though.

Vladimir dropped us off at our building, assuring us he'll be happy to taxi us around whenever we need him. This is where we are staying, second balcony up is ours*:

And the view, along with little "accident" in the street below.

Nearby side street:

After a little nap for S, J took her to get some take out for us while I tried to get some shut eye. Since S hadn't slept since 3:50 am, neither had I. I don't know if I dozed or not; with all the honking and traffic, it was hard to tell. We had a late lunch (tasty food, but I can't remember what it was called), we went for a walk. Sunset was at 4:11 p.m., and don't you know that threw me for a loop.

Near where J works, I saw the unholy Christmas tree. Can anyone guess what made it unholy? I wanted to get a pic of it today, but it was too dark when we went back that way. I'll try to get a photo tomorrow...

I'm not sure how far we walked, but feeling headachy from fatigue and pollution, I suggested we stop at a cafe to have a hot drink and rest for a bit. Not being able to speak or understand Albanian makes things interesting. I ordered hot chocolate, and the server asked me "black" or "white." J and I both looked at him with confusion plain on our faces and he said something about sugar. "Black," I said, "no sugar, but with whipped cream on top." So back he comes a few minutes later and presents me with a divine looking cup of hot chocolate. The cream was tasty, but when I dipped my spoon in deeper, I lifted out what looked like lumpy hot cocoa. I tasted it and lo and behold hot pudding. In a cup.

And then the lights went out in the cafe and street. The whole street. But not in the next one over because the lights in the high-rise apartments there never flickered. A grocery store got its generator up and going, with the casino next door quick to follow, but we were in the dark. That is until the server put his Nokia phone in a glass on our table to serve as a lamp. It was a bizarre experience, sipping hot pudding in the dark, listening to the murmur of Albanian.

Later, after our dinner at a Turkish restaurant, when the server told me they had no mint tea, I asked for another hot chocolate, determined to find out of it was some kind of mistake or an Albanian treat. No pudding this time, just an icky drink of baking cocoa powder and water. Well, there went the nifty idea of Albanians sipping hot pudding. Then this morning, sorting through the things J's colleague left in the apartment cupboard, we found packets of instant pudding (black and white) with the directions in Italian. So I guess it is an Italian thing (lots of Italians come here for hols). Anyone know if it is so?

We ended the evening with a stroll through a Christmas market where you can buy things as varied as pet supplies, frozen food, phone services, and cheap looking copies of traditional Albanian dress in the little chalets. Aside from the ornaments and fake trees for sale at the beginning of the market, nothing much about it spoke of Christmas. I mean besides the giant tree at the end where Santa Claus sat with his elf while some freaky, scary electronic music blared to put everyone in the holiday spirit.

____________________
* Pics belong to J. I'll get out and take more when he goes to work tomorrow, weather permitting.

Profile

wayfaringwordhack

May 2025

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
				1	2	3
4	5	6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15	16	17
18	19	20	21	22	23	24
25	26	27	28	29	30	31

Syndicate

Style Credit

Style: Dusty Antique for Nouveau Oleanders by branchandroot
Resources: OpenClipart and I'm home again

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Page generated 12 Jul 2025 02:33 am

The Wayfaring Wordhack

Valises in Lebanon

Entries tagged with pics: albania

Pictures from a moving car, Part 1

A rainy day in Berat

Out of time

Krujë, Albania

Dog days

Merry Christmas

A Walk in the Park

Impeccable Timing

Second Taste of Albania

Unholy tree

First taste of Tirana