Shkodrë

After I had spent 3 sad days in Žabljak, curing my poisoned stomach instead of hiking around Durmitor National Park, I took 3 frustrating busses to Shkodrë. 

Like with pretty much all Albanian cities, guidebooks don't really freak out about Shkodrë, but I only arrived in the early evening and was planning to move on to Kosovo or Macedonia the next day. But when I arrived and wandered through the pedestrian lane with hundreds of others, admiring all the different bars and cafés that had spread out their tables and chairs onto the street, I already knew that I should stay another night.

The contrast was really funny: the big mosque you can see on the first picture completely dominated the scene, you would here the Muezzin calling for prayer while walking up and down the street - but there was hardly any covered women around. Rather the opposite: I don't know how the women managed to walk on the partly cobbled stones with their high heels and tight dresses.

I finished the day with a banana frappucchino - not exactly what I had wanted, but I was glad that the waiter, who spoke no English but fluent Italian, at least understood that the coffee should be cold ("caldo" is hot in Italian) :D

I had planned to read, but couldn't resist watching all the people passing my table doing the "Xhiro", the traditional evening walk for which cars are actually blocked from entering the street. 

The next day, after a long and lazy breakfast, I rented a bike for an unbelievable price of 2€ from an organization called Kiri Adventures, and had a very nice chat with the co-founder, whose name I forgot and who's actually a pharmacist. Tourism isn't very well promoted in Albanian cities, but he and his friend thought that Shkodrë an it's surroundings actually have a lot to offer, so during high season they run different tours by car, bicycle or on foot.

I did a tour on my own though for this time, and cycled North, to the Old Bridge. I didn't got for the bridge of course, but to explore the outskirts of the city, an really wasn't disappointed: after only 5 minutes of driving, the image changed completely, and Albania's forth biggest city looked like a farmers' village.

After I had crossed the river, which dries out in summer, I cycled back southwards. The view of the city was completely blocked by some hills, and I got lost several times in the random

net of unpaved roads and narrow paths leading through the rural settlements following the riverbank.

(Bees, I suppose)

(The contrast between the huge amounts of trash everywhere and the beauty of the mountains in the background was striking.)

(Suddenly, a wild memorial appeared :D)

It was really hot, and the bicycle, although a mountain bike, wasn't the best for the terrain sometimes, so I was looking forward to the second part of the tour: south of the city and around Rozafa castle was lake Shkoder, which Alabama shares with Montenegro. 

My excitement only lasted until I saw a big river flowing into the lake, and remembered the piles of trash I had seen in the dried river bank before (I was later informed that it came out of the lake, though I'm not sure whether to believe that). It got worse when I started cycling around it and saw cows, goats and their excrements on the shores. I'm really not the most hygienic person, you know, but ew...

I ran out of energy and water some kilometers before the place I had wanted to go to, but saw a family swimming in the water and thought that should be the place to try it then. The water didn't give me the refreshment I had hoped for: it was full of small plants and super warm. 

So I got out again very quickly, dried myself, enjoyed the sun for a moment, and then cycled back. On the way I had a egg-and-lemon-soup, which was certainly interesting, and explored an unfinished building overlooking the lake. It was creepy.

Last but not least I forced myself all the way up to Rozafa castle. The legend says that three brothers were trying to build a castle, but their work was always destroyed over night. So the youngest sacrificed his wife Rozafa, which was built into the walls of the castle, with some holes left out so she could breastfeed her newborn child. (I was looking for a statue with golden boobs from all the people touching them, but couldn't find any.) The view was pretty nice, but one could definitely work on the information tables - Kiri Adventures does a tour of the castle as well though, I'm sure it's good!

Hitchhiking XIV (Shkodra - Lagadin)

Right until I went to sleep the day before yesterday, I didn't really know where I should go next:  Kosovo or lake Ohrid in Macedonia? Finally I decided for the latter, because the weather is supposed to get worse in a few days, so I'll hopefully be able to enjoy the sun while swimming in Ohrid.

Some stupid dogs and a very confused rooster kept me awake half of the night, so I didn't really want to get up and only actually left the hostel around 10 am. Even for hitchhiking that's quite late, especially considering that I would have to get through the center of Tirana, the capital, somehow (there's no road around it, yet) and then cross a rather unpopular border crossing.

But anyway, no risk no fun! :D

After I had found the bus station in the center of Shkodra, I asked a girl wether there was actually busses to the Rozafa castle, which marks the end of the city. She was super helpful and told me where to get off a hundred times, but I went to the final stop anyway :D

From there I walked a couple of hundred meters, got out my warning west, and waited for 10 minutes until Uilson picked me up. Of course he spoke Italian, like almost everyone does here, but well.. I didn't. 

He dropped me in the center of Lezhë, where he asked a friend working in a shop to help with translating. Said friend spoke excellent English and has had an Austrian girlfriend, whom he met in Greece, for 3 years. He explained that Uilson had to turn right here, but that the city wasn't big and I could easily walk to the other end of it.

That's exactly what I did, and after I had enjoyed my cheese burek that I had brought from the free breakfast at the hostel, I decided it's time to stop and wait for cars.

After 10 minutes a minibus going to Tirana stopped and, lazy, I asked how much the ride would be. The driver signaled me a 3 with his fingers and the young guy sitting next to him said it was 300 (a bit more than 2€). I said that I don't have 300 Lek (which I actually thought was true), and then waved them to continue, saying that I was hitchhiking anyway. There was an argument going back and forth between the young guy and the driver, then the guy said: "Come in, free of charge, you're hitchhiking!"

Okay then :) 

The guy's name was Emigen, and he made the drive a very short one, because  he instantly recognized my Deathly Hallows-tattoo and therefore was a really cool person. He grew up in Greece, but returned to Albania to study, and is now looking for a steady job as a hip hop-dancer. Also, if you're looking for a sugar boy, I think he would be quite worth it (fb: Emigen Cenaj) :D

He had told me that he actually no money and was living from one show to the next, but when we got off the bus in Tirana, I saw him paying much more than  seemed reasonable. He paid for me, and would accept "only love" as repayment. I wasn't sure if that was an invitation, but I had to move on anyway :D

The highway around the city still wasn't finished when I arrived, so I started walking. The ice cream on the way put a huge smile on my face, and I even got to take a selfie in front of some important guy on a horse.

After 40 minutes, I reached the highway out of the city. Imagine having to walk through Vienna or Berlin just like that!

There I stood at a bus stup for 15 minutes, which felt like much longer for some reason. But then a tiny car with already 4 persons in it stopped, my backpack was somehow maneuvered in between the driver and his wife, and I squeezed onto one of the backseats. The guy next to me spoke some bits of English, and the driver tried with some Italian, but most of the time everyone was listening to some very beautiful acoustic songs in Albanian. We had a coffee break (I had tea, because my throat didn't feel too well), and then continued on the road to Korçë. 

We were stopped by the police at least three times, but either seatbelts are not mandatory in Macedonia (I was the only one using it) or the driver was really good friends with all of them (he seemed to know everyone, maybe he was a policeman himself?).

They dropped me in Pogradec, the last Albanian town before the border, in the very south of lake Ohrid.

The street I was heading to, according to my map the main street around the lake, was completely abandoned. I wasn't allowed to use the toilet in a café because I wasn't a customer. My mood dropped a bit, after all it was almost 5 already and I hadn't actually booked a bed.

I started walking on the abandoned road ("alley" would be more suitable), but after some cars had passed me, Agim pulled over. He only had to go to a village closeby, but kindly drove me the extra 3 km to the border, after failing to convince me to stay on the Albanian side for the night.

I crossed the Albanian border by foot and already wanted to ask one of the cars waiting in line, but then remembered that it would probably be better to walk to the Macedonian one and wait after it.

Everyone seemed to be grumpy at the Macedonian checkpoint, and I really had to pee, so I felt like everything was happening unbelievable slow. At least 6 cars passed me, because they were either completely full or just ignorants. I was really impatient in this case, because everyone would have to pass the place I wanted to go to. Waiting can be really frustrating in situations like these.

Anyway, the car that actually had arrived at the Albanian border the same time that I had, finally slowed down for me. Bork and Silvana were of course going to Ohrid, and insisted on dropping me ff right in front of the door of the hostel.

Now the final risk: would they have a bed available? I rang the bell. Nothing happened for a moment, then Jonny opened the door. 

"Hey, do you happen to have a bed available?"

- "Yes, we do, we're completely empty. You can have your own room!"

Sounds like Christmas to me guys!!

Busses and why I hate using them

Still a bit shaky from the poisoning that had turned my planned two-and-a-half days of hiking and climbing the highest peak of Montenegro into a very long episode of sleeping, drinking, and eying white bread and bananas, I chose to take the bus. At first I was only annoyed by the fact that it was leaving at 7:30am (the next one would leave at 11:40), but this trip to Skodra, Albania, which (theoretically) covers a distance of approximately 150 km reminded me of why I really don't like public transport.

The plan was to take said bus from Žabljak to Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro. From there, at 11am, there would be a bus going to Ulcinj, a small and very touristy village on the coast. Ulcinj was only a few kilometers away from the Albanian border, and I was told there would be buses leaving hourly to Shkodra.

Getting up early is not something you have to do when hitchhiking, although it is advisable depending on the size of the city and its location. If I had been hitchhiking, I probably would've started in Žabljak at around 10, because it pretty much consists of only one road that leads back to the rest of Montenegro. Buuuut I wasn't, so I went into the bathroom at 6:40am, because I was afraid it would be occupied afterwards. Then I went to get something to eat from the supermarket, just to find it closest because it was still some minutes till 7. 

Deciding that I didn't actually have the time to wait, I went back, had a banana, got my backpacks ready, and was surprised to have some minutes left. The common room was packed with people, who all wanted to take the same bus, and who all panicked when the co-owner of the hostel, Gina, said she expected the bus to be full.

So everyone hurried to the bus station to get a seat, in case the bus was already there and waiting - well it wasn't. I had been standing with the others for some

minutes when I remembered that I forgot a pair of socks and a pantyhose in the hostel. Everyone was like well, screw it, but in that moment I really didn't want to leave those things behind.

So put my bags down and ran (=jogged) back to the hostel. It wasn't far, but if the bus was to leave on time, I definitely wouldn't make it. I liked the idea: it might be too full anyway, I thought, or I'll just miss it and stay here for another night. I hadn't seen anything but the hostel, the supermarket, and the restaurant on he other side of the street anyway, so it wouldn't be a complete disaster.

I arrived at the hostel, walked up the stairs too far, went back, got into the room, took the stuff, went back down, started jogging again. Half way I saw a bus driving to the station and knew I would make it in time. Hear hear! 

It took quite some time for all us backpackers to board; the minibus was already packed with locals, who has probably gotten in a stop before, and we all had to "check-in" our backpacks for an extra Euro. I ended up standing just next to the driver and already saw myself flying through the glass when he started driving up and down the serpentines. 

Only after an hour and a half, when we arrived in Nicšić, people got out and everyone found a seat. Then we continued to Podgorica, which took another hour. 

That ride was 7€ + 1€ for luggage.

In Podgorica I had to wait for around 45 minutes, and bought the ticket in the meantime: 6€ + 1€ for luggage.

I don't like waiting for buses. It gives you a feeling that no time is passing at all. Hitchhiking is different: even if I have to wait for 45 minutes, it stays exciting, because cars are passing by almost all the time, and every one of them could be mine. I keep smiling at every single car, try to send my destinanion to the drivers' heads telepathically, stay in action. Waiting for a bus, in comparison, is just really dull.

Eventually it arrived, anyway. It seemed like it took forever to get out of Podgorica, and in general everything was just so slow. I checked my map and again was annoyed about the fact that there's no direct connection between Podgorica (the goddamn capital of Montenegro!) and Shkodra, the next big city behind the border. No, they send you to a fisher village instead, where you have to wait for another bus, making a huge detour through streets that are probably much shittier than the ones connecting the two cities.

The longer I was looking at the map, the slower the bus seemed to drive, the more I regretted not hitchhiking at least from Podgorica to Shkodra. But I was trapped now, so I just enjoyed the privilege of being able to read instead of having to talk while driving.

Finally in Ulcinj, at around 1pm, I followed a British couple to their hostel, hoping to exchange my finished book for a new one. Successful, I asked the receptionist when the next bus to Shkodra would leave: 4:30pm. Oh god.

Quite reluctantly I went to see the town, after they had kindly let me store my backpack at the hostel. I was hungry, so I had a burek with beef in it; I only wanted half of it, but the cashier didn't understand, so I ended up with a whole and finished, obviously feeling terrible afterwards. 

The place seemed to consist of a really ugly street endlessly leading down to the beach, which was completely overcrowded. Because I had so much time, I climbed up to some kind of fortress, which was filled with trashy restaurans and souvenir shops.

This "beach bar"-sign caught my attention though, so I passed the unfinished building, went down some old stairs, and then got to the announced beach bar, which ended up being really nice.

I also spotted a familiar face: David, who had stayed in the same room in Žabljak when I got sick, was there with some new friends. The Balkans are so small. 

After my first coffee in a lot of days I felt better and got adventurous, so I went back another boring yet not so ugly street back to the hostel. From there I carried my unbelievably heavy (for no reason) backpack back to the bus station, bought the ticket (6€), got into the bus, and almost died in there from the lack of oxygen, so I waited standing outside until the driver started the motor.

I really enjoyed the book, but that didn't let the unbelievably low speed go unnoticed. I really don't know what took so long. 

Finally at the border, the driver disappeared with all the passports, which we had had to hand in before boarding the bus, and came back after an eternity. Then, on to Shkodra, on a teeny tiny road that would probably be used only for cycling in Germany.

When the bus dropped everyone off in the city center, it was around 6pm. That makes a total of 10 1/2 hours of sitting around, and 21€ of expenses for a distance of (due to stupidity) around 200 km.

And this, my dear friends, is why I don't like travelling by bus!