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Published: October 10th 2012
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The final days of Albania were impressive, even if I was beginning to suffer the effects of too many archeological sites, castles and churches (ABC syndrome)!
First was heading to the centre of independence in Vlora, declared in 1991 (although first independence came in 1912, Albania was communist from 1944 until 1991), where a monument was erected to mark this event. We had to do so a little slyly, as buses are banned from being in this area, and construction is occurring at great pace around the square and war victim cemetery. Typical disorganization. To see the pain and emotion on the statues faces explained a lot of what they endured at the time.
A 1.5 hour drive along smooth motorway brought us to the next destination, Apollonia, an ancient city of approximately 2500 years ago, which has developed with French and Italian investment. Beginning in the museum, we saw various ceramic bowls and urns, tools, and sculptures of Roman and Greek figures (Amazonian warriors, Eros and Aphrodite, Medusa etc). Thereafter we had
At Apollonia
He's had a nose job and frontal lobotomy, poor blokea tour of the ancient site taking in the theatre/ Odeon, underground tunnels, the bathing facility, storehouses…the whole city! They continue to dig, and with only 6% excavated, who knows how many more passages, or people, lie beneath.
Followed by a mother dog that was full of milk, the Apollonia tour took several hours and in the heat we all started to wilt. One incredibly slow and meager lunch later (where half of the menu was off not on, where are those stuffed eggplants promised??), and it was time to seek out some bunkers on the way to Berat. Farmer Joe, a mate of our tour leader, had his fleet of turkeys and bunker farm to show off to us. Grapes, albeit looking inedible, were exchanged with us and a small donation sealed our visit. Even though he spoke zero English, so wily and appealing was his smile that I predict in 10 years there will be an entrance gate, pay booth and fenced paddock with flashing lights turned into a tourist attraction. Now that will give another blimin, yet beautiful, monastery a run for their money!
Berat was alive when we arrived at
6pm, with promenading families/ couples and Uni students intent on staring down the foreigners with looks of curiosity. But our group and leader were not happy with our spot for the night. The very average Tomori hotel had little hot water, poor ventilation and dysfunctional air conditioning - the desk man attentively came up and tried to solve my window first, but it ended up coming off it's hinges altogether as did in all rooms on the 4
th floor Excellent, now there’s effective air conditioning (no window). I had a great sleep, even if a little rowdy. I was stuffed!
Waking to clip clopping hooves and a cool clear day, we began our whole day tour of Berat. It had it all - yes, more mosques (Red, Kings, Bachelors), more monasteries and churches, the ethnographic museum, an art gallery - and that was only the first 3 hours. Hot and sultry, this lent itself to slow wandering and building up to our lunch feast at the Fortress of Berat, a short bus trip away.
Weaving between the olive trees, we eventually reached this place high on the hill and built
in the 14-15th century in the Byzantine period. Many of the 800 inhabitants of this walled town are entrepreneurial when it comes to woven souvenirs. In particular the women are selling crochet tablecloths, cross-stiched table cloths, woolen tablecloths, woolen postcards, crochet postcards.......a wide range indeed. Sadly, no crocheted Albanian 2013 calenders so one family member would be disappointed on my return!
Lunch inside the castle walls was an extraordinary affair. Koco, the incredible kitchen dynamo and his wife, have entertained Exodus groups for a few years for a set menu of traditional tastes. It began with the entrees....stuffed peppers with rice/ cheese, cheese with other salty tomato stuff, eggplants with stuffing, spinach with cheese and egg on top.....by now feeling a little full, we were warned more was to come - egg omelette rolls stuffed with mince and cheese, chicken and rice, filo stuffed with cheese and spinach.
More than the food we ate was stuffed at the half way mark (!), and I was then warned by Koco that the promised fresh figs would not be delivered unless I finished what was on the table!
Defeated, it came anyway, but
not before having my left leg rubbed better in the restaurant with some home made raki. Koco thought this would cure my left calf and knee pain, and before we could translate 'all I want to do is empty my melting ice pack', my foot was rested on his knee and raki was being vigorously rubbed into my calf and grazes from several days earlier. He was on a good wicket from then on, and a sweet tip he got at the end too, for not only a fantastic meal, but he could consider a career change if his restaurant business doesn't work out!
So a minaret climbed, a calf rubbed, and tummy filled, a friend or 3 made and a church or 10 later made it time to leave Berat. Driving back the 3 hours to Tirana, passing the countless Mercedes benz’, shepherds moving their goats or cattle on a main highway and hitting more holes in the road than has a sieve, and it was time to reflect on the last 10 days. It has been exhausting and frenetic, but very enriching. And having roused everyone for a fabulous group photo at Berat castle in
the setting sun, I am glad it came to an end this way.
The last Albanian coffee started the following day, and with some final goodbyes at the hotel, I was off on the cheap route to Tirana airport. 250 Lek (NZD$2.50) and 30 minutes later on a smooth road, I was checked in. Then like a bee to a honey pot, I zoomed in on the souvenir shop, but they were fresh out of crocheted 2013 calenders, so it had to be an Albania cap and pen instead. We’d be able to write the 365 days of the year that way! Retreating to the café for a few drinks, I couldn’t escape…..5 euros less for a bottle of water (a rip off when not using Lek), and an attempt at arranging marriage to the café owner who relentlessly wanted my contact in NZ, and I was off, fast! This sizing up of status has happened throughout the Balkans so far, and prices do differ if you’re not a local!
Athens was only 90 minutes away, and an hour ahead of Albania. Vast, blue and brown from the air, it was vast, brown and
blue from the ground when I finally pulled up at my booking.com reserved hotel, Hotel Candia. Old mama Greece in her brown smock and sensible shoes found me forlorn and lost, near to Omonia square, having reached there by the Metro. We tried aimlessly to get me to a hotel, dragging me arm in arm past homeless people cuddled up to their blankets and bustling cafes….never mind the hotel I had reserved, we could not find it! I was then put straight by a lovely lady behind a counter and walked a good 10 minutes more to find my place for the night.
“Room 401” Mr ‘handlebar moustache-papadopolous’ said, with military precision and zero customer service on his face. Except I got there and it was like Goldilocks and the 3 bears – someone had been sleeping in my bed, and drunk water bottles, and used all my towels, and even left tissues on the floor. The room hadn’t been cleaned and this was getting near 5pm. At last, I got a room and headed out immediately to try and make the most of an evening.
Heaving with tourists once you hit Plaka and
Monastiraki district, the sight of the Acropolis was something to behold. Little knowledge I had at the time, I wandered the back streets of Anafictika until hitting the new museum, inaugurated in 2009.
I learned all about Athena and Poseidon, her olive tree and his triton that caused earthquakes/ significant events, the goddess of Athena Nike, the memory and sculptures of ancient Amazonian women battling half animal-half human centaur, fully clad women called Korai who were calm and beautiful with archaic smiles, the transition of the Acropolis over the years between Christian church and mosque, looting of valuable features of it, the invasion of the Persians, the Ottoman empire, Dionysus the god of inebriation and frivolous dancing, holy prostitution…..so much to learn……so I think Greece can account for many modern behaviours and structures in society! It was a great night, and I was well turned in before midnight.
Corinth occupied a large part of the following day with another early start. The ancient city reigned approximately 2600 years ago, and we had the chance on the tour to wander amongst the baths, market place (agora, means ‘meeting place’), Corinth temple, the main street and
homes. Restorative work continues, making old look old, and keeping naughty fingerprints off the slippery marble structures. Passing the Corinth canal was impressive, being an attempt to save ships a 600km voyage around the Peloponnese. It is 70 metres high and 25 metres wide, came to be built after much deliberation, and so the project took a good few centuries to happen! Sound familiar?
After a forced stop to buy pottery and jewelry, the tour bus headed back to Athens dropping us off in Syntagma and Acropoli areas at 2pm. I made a beeline for the Acropolis anticipating an hour visit, based on advice from our tour guide. My plan was to see it in an hour, then start the journey to the airport for a 6:30pm flight to Santorini. The Acropolis blew me away and it was a great history lesson, with the visit to the new museum being good preparation. I met some camp Brazilians, and we exchanged some very artfully taken photos and Brazil stories. It surpassed my expectations, the Acropolis that is…my photos never surpass my expectation! I then made tracks about 3:30pm and began my expedition to the
airport via the hotel.
In keeping with Greece’s financial problems, 30% + unemployment, and poorly timed with a visit from a dignitary, Syntagma station became closed that afternoon. A large demonstration was staged and security was at risk in the vicinity with police in attendance controlling this.
I had no idea. In fact, our tour guide that day had reassured me all was well and what hype we receive in the UK or NZ via the media.
So when the train passed my planned transfer station without stopping I wondered, what the…??.….it was all Greek to me!
People on the Metro told me to change trains 3 more times to get onto the airport line. I did, except one connection didn’t come for about 40 minutes, so when I got to the airport, pretty desperate and frustrated by now, it was 10 minutes before the plane was due to leave.
I had the colourful thoughts, and begged the ladies at check in given my scenario,
but no joy. I wasn’t going to Santorini. Thankfully the Aegean airlines lady took pity, rebooked me the next day fee-free, and called Mama Vassalos in Perissa beach (Santorini) to inform them I’d be there the next day. Thank god it wasn’t costing me the earth to stay there as I was paying for it!
Similarly, the hotel reservation desk was able to arrange a hotel for the night, my ferry tickets and all with an understanding smile. When Poppa Popadopolous came to collect me for the hotel transfer, we marched to his van, I got in and who would be serenading us on the radio as we started driving but ACDC, singing that I’d been ‘Thunderstruck’. Poppa was a metal fan. Not only thunder had struck me, but Poseidons triton, bad luck, and a dose of bronchitis that just wouldn’t let up!
So a night at the Hi de Hi of package tourism, Mare Nostrum in remote Vravona village, was comfortable, and I woke to a brilliant sunrise vividly red – surely that means ‘shepherds warning’ for weather? The fisherman thought not as they were
A Tirana capuccino - last one in Albania
A goodie, rated 8.5/10, could be a tad hotter shore side outside the hotel at the crack of dawn when I rose – I guess they had climbed the fence to reach the public beach like I had! Thank god for arm strength and a padded rear!
I got to Athens airport in ample time, onto the plane, and into Santorini, which had put on fantastic weather if a bit breezy, by late morning. Maria and her brother, Francesco, picked me up and I was settled into an upgraded studio 10 minutes walk to Perissa beach before midday. Sweet! Although I met some Turkish tourists here that slated this spot, it is gorgeous, surrounded by typical dry and rocky dramatic hills. Black volcanic sand leads into sharply deep water, and a reasonable onshore breeze ensured the jet skiers or wind sport enthusiasts had something to grab. The one lonely sail boat anchored is used as a charter in summer, but this being shoulder season, it seemed to just bob happily in the wind and azure waters. I ran into the owner that night on my beach wander – it was cold water to him, but as I went to dive in I
said not where I come from! They breed us tough in NZ, or stupid!
Although the body and mind wanted to do nothing, the hills and archeological sites called. I’m not in Santorini everyday, right? I ploughed up the first bump, 15minutes, to an old church set amongst amazing cliff hanging rock climbing territory. You’d have to be one dedicated orthodox Christian to come here as the inclines were steep. That over, I headed upwards towards Profiti Ilia (translates as the ‘profitable hip bone’), joining up with a German lady that said she’d left her angry husband at the bottom of the cliff. Was he pushed, I thought.
The gradient evened out and soon enough a road met the path, at the entry to Ancient Thira, almost 3000 years old. These hills house a cemetery of the fallen, the island having a massive earthquake in 17
th century BC, the pre-historic era, believed to wipe out everything. This was until the 12
th century BC when humans resurfaced in this region. Should I see inside another ancient city? No thanks, and then I soldiered upwards which I have
to say it was a better choice for getting views. Amazing! Met a united nations of organized walking tourists and got my photos of Oi and Fira as planned, before careering down a pumice track to Perissa, where I took photos for an angry husband of another woman, Danish this time, the wife of whom had gone walking. Was she pushed, I thought.
Then I did nothing but swim and relax…yes, hell froze over again ……grabbing one of the free beach loungers and admiring the beautiful scenery below and above water. Pebbles and black sand gave way to fractured rock underwater, obviously volcanic, and visibility was excellent, all the way to NZ in fact. And the fish were camouflaged and rather peckish when it comes to humans – I had my entire right leg debrided of dead skin at Perissa for free. This would cost me 20 euros in Fira.
And that is why I came to Santorini. I wonder if they can debride you of wrinkles and freckles too?
And for today.....
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A week is left until I fly
Back to NZ, with a wee tear in my eye
10 days in Albania, it was a treat
Treading rubbish beneath my feet
Wandering amongst ancient cities past
Castles and monasteries, they weren’t the last
Greece so far is up to scratch
Albania though, it cannot match
Their flag is red whereas the Greek one’s blue
Tourism is emerging there, so very new
Santorini, packaged as known
Gorgeous and tranquil, 40 years since grown
Next stop will be Naxos by the beach
A quiet stay is hopefully in reach
From now on I’m allowing triple time to get
To any destination so I do not fret!
Outside brand new Acropolis museum
Real excavations occuring beneath, over the ancient city!! Thereon it’s back to Athens and on to Rome
A few days after, will be home sweet home J
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I will then have a referendum on whether I should travel by Eurail again and allow 10 times as long to reach any given destination? I think that’s already decided – I’m allowing 2.5 hours for a 20 minute ride tomorrow!
‘Adio’ for now.
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