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Jun. 9th, 2006 11:00 pmThe next morning we were up early again but breakfast was slated for somewhat later than usual. We would eat at Gasho's restaurant in the port city of Bar. It was quite some distance away, and we had to catch a ferry to get there. The ferry is a shortcut across the mouth of a bay, where it's only a couple hundred yards across the water. You can go around on the road but it's about 50km, and the ferry ride is quick. From there, we struggled through ten or twenty kilometers of slow traffic, then the road opened up and we were able to make better time. It was still late morning before we reached Bar.
Gasho is 1/5 owner of a large restaurant in a good location downtown. It's a bar and pizzeria with lots of sidewalk tables, and the pizzas were good. Montenegro is one of the poorer countries and several times while we were eating, children came up to our tables to beg. Gasho chased them away like flies, and cautioned us that these children will steal if you don't keep a sharp eye on your belongings. He didn't chase away the begging cats, though. One of them got a lot of my pepperoni. This cat looked a lot like Mac. He wouldn't let me pet him, but he stayed close by for a long time, waiting for more handouts. After lunch we took turns staying with the gear, and visiting the neighboring grocery store and bank machine. The bank machine wouldn't accept any of my cards, but I had enough cash to get some candy bars and bottled water, and some soap to hand wash my clothing.
After eating, we set out for Albania. Before we crossed, Igor lectured us on how Albania is very chaotic, and it's important that the group stay together. We should ride close, much closer than we'd been riding in the other countries, everyone must keep up, and we mustn't ever leave anyone behind. We all nodded our heads, but unfortunately I think every one of us thought "Finally the rest of these folks will have to ride more like me!"
The road we were on didn't look like a major highway, but apparently it's the main road from Montenegro to Albania. The border was a row of shacks on the side of the road. Crossing it took a long time. We had to produce our passports and documentation for our bikes. The insurance documents didn't list Albania for S and my bikes, so we had to pay EU$25 each for special Albanian insurance, which was sold out of one of the shacks by a cheerful Albanian guy. I had to wonder, if we ever needed to collect on this insurance, if it would even be possible? We also had to pay EU$10 each for visas, except for Elvis. After calling someone on his cell phone, the Albanian border guard informed us that it was EU$30 for a visa for an Israeli. He also said something about not being sure whether Elvis would be allowed into Macedonia at the other side. He put the money in his pocket. I waited patiently and watched the stray cats and dogs wandering around the border station. There's no point in getting snippy with border guards; if you piss them off they'll always get even. Smile and nod.
Finally they let us pass. The road wound about and eventually went into a village, where we got the most attention of anyplace we'd been. People came running out of the houses and down to the road to wave. One guy almost dropped his camera phone, he was in such a hurry to photograph us. I was surprised to see camera phones, since the houses didn't even look like they had electricity. Where do they charge them? At the end of the village, the road went over a decrepit one lane wooden bridge. It looked like a pedestrian bridge that would belong in a park, but it was carrying the motorized traffic on the main road through Albania. The bridge ended in a sort of gravel parking lot, and we had to make a tight turn to get back to the paved road. Little boys came running up, wanting to touch the bikes. They wanted to hear us twist the throttles, or better still they'd like us to stop and let them twist the throttles. Some of the guys obliged. The boys were thrilled.
Out on the road, staying together became a huge challenge. I think that when Igor gave his lecture, the slower riders expected the fast ones to slow down, and the fast ones expected the slow ones to speed up. So the nuthammers just nailed it, assuming everyone else would finally keep up. But they didn't. Once again, I was in the middle, trying to figure out whether to catch up with the riders ahead or slow down for the riders behind. The nuthammers flew down the road, passing cars like they were standing still. I watched Irene and Trond dwindle in my mirrors, as Igor &co dwindled up ahead of me. Now what? The road was straight and fairly open, but there were cows on the side of the road, with no fence, just rope leashes and human keepers. There were tractors, and mopeds, and bicycles, and the cars and trucks that were traveling at wildly different speeds. I didn't think I could catch the nuthammers; I was already going faster than I liked, especially given the close proximity of those cows.
Just then Irene passed me on her WeeStrom! Go Irene! She overtook Igor and got him to pull over. As I reached them, they were already having a shouting match. Irene was giving Igor holy hell for the dangerous speeds, for making people go 200kph. Igor was claiming that he wasn't going 200kph, and if he didn't go this fast then cars would pass him. Irene said that the people at the back have to go faster than the people at the front, to catch back up whenever they can't pass something as quickly. They were both spitting mad. Eventually they calmed down and we set out again, at a somewhat slower speed this time. It was still well beyond anything that would be legal in the USA, but it was no longer stupid fast. Occasionally a car would pass us, and I'm sure it upset Igor every time it happened, but really, if cars pass, you just let them, it's not the end of the world to be passed.
We stopped at a gas station to regroup, and it was starting to rain so I put on my rainsuit. We set out again into the rain, at a slightly more moderate speed. I think this was because Igor wasn't sure we were going the right way. The rain stopped. We stopped again, and Igor, Boban, and Gromko looked at the map and consulted with locals in some cars that stopped. I struggled out of my rainsuit while they did this, and almost didn't get going again in time to stay with the group when they left.
We reached the outskirts of Tirane and suddenly found ourselves in very heavy traffic. We stopped again to look at the map and consult the locals, then swung back out onto the road. The pavement disappeared shortly thereafter. There was rebar, but no cement. The traffic slowed to a walking pace, and lost all semblance of organization. The cars going our direction started lane splitting until they were three abreast and blocking traffic from the oncoming direction, and the oncoming traffic started filtering between us. The road was only about 20 feet wide, and it had a steep ditch on the side. I was soon the last rider in line, as the others squeezed through between two cars that then moved closer together blocked my passage. I was cut off from the others by a wall of cars pushing and shoving and honking their horns. There were cows, and there were manholes with no covers, and dead animals in the road, and chokind clouds of dust. The buildings along the road looked like they'd been bombed, but they were full of people, who were still waving and taking our pictures. I resigned myself to being left behind, and over the radio I told S that it had been nice knowing them. He pulled over and waited for me, and together we battled the chaos until we won through to a more normal street, and there, the others had waited for us. Thank goodness!
We then circled around Tirane for a while, trying to figure out which way to go. It looked desperately broken down and poor. The cars were rattly old things, and there were ragged looking people all over the place. Workmen rode in the backs of tired old trucks. There were lots of busses, and lots of people waiting for busses. We stopped a few more times so Igor and Boban could discuss the map with the locals. When we stopped, teenage boys would cluster around us, very excited about the bikes. They would chatter in Albanian and make signs asking if they could twist the throttles? Sometimes we let them, and they would rev the snot out of our bikes, and they'd get these huge grins on their faces.
Eventually we found the central square. There was a rectagular plaza, about two blocks that were just paved over and had planters and posts set around to keep the cars out. The traffic teemed around this plaza, and there were fancy buildings overlooking it. This area was in better state of repair than any part of Albania we'd seen so far; even the cars and people looked more prosperous. Robert managed to pull the whole group over into a little space where bikes could be parked out of traffic next to the plaza. He yelled "It's fookin Tirane! Stop! We have to take pictures!" So we took pictures.
A few begging children fought their way through the traffic to us, and Robert gave them Euros. I gave them candy bars. I figured the money would be taken off them instantly the minute we were out of sight, but I saw them eat the candy.
After a few minutes, Igor put his helmet back on and started his bike, so I did the same. Robert, who was parked next to me, had put away his digital camera and was taking pictures with his phone. I called to him to put his helmet on, we were leaving, and he said he'd catch up. As we pulled away I saw that four or five bikes did not follow. I mentioned this to S, who was up near the front of the group, and we dragged our feet a bit trying to slow the group so the others could catch up. We went around three sides of the square, then turned onto a street leading away from the square. I caught one last glimpse of the others, still standing where we'd stopped, and then they disappeared from my mirrors. I pulled to the side of the road, where I could see the square and they should see me when they came around, and waited. I talked to S on the radio, and he told me the group was turning right at the next street. Then we lost contact. I waited, and waited, and the others did not come. Finally I didn't dare wait any more. I was afraid I was now lost and alone. I rode up to the next corner, and turned right like S had informed me. I called over the radio and S replied, thank goodness! A block or two later the road forked, and there was S waiting at the left fork. We continued another couple blocks and the road forked again, and the others were waiting there. Igor asked me what happened and I said the others never came.
After some intense discussion, it was decided that the rest of us would wait here and NOT MOVE while Jordi (who had a GPS he could use to find us again) would go back and get the others. For the next hour, Jordi made ten or fifteen minute loops around the area, back and forth between here and where we'd left them, and tried to find them. He never did find them. While this was going on I had plenty of time to look around. The place where we were waiting looked calm and prosperous. There was a sidewalk cafe and well dressed people were sitting there. Women in business suits with briefcases crossed the street. There was a park across the street, shady trees, and perfectly normal store fronts. No cows or goats to be seen. A few begging children tried their luck with us but no one gave them anything so they wandered off to try their luck at the cafe, where they were run off by the proprietor.
Finally S said "Let's call all their cell phones and leave a message for them to meet us in the next town. We'll never find them in this big city, but the next town is smaller and it will be easier to find each other." So that's what we did. Just as S left the last message, his phone rang and it was them calling back. They were already in Elbasan. They would wait for us there.
After a bit of circling and map checking we finally found the right road. We soon left the prosperous neighborhood and were back into poorer areas. This side of town was hillier, and as the number of buildings diminished the road got twistier. Eventually we were back in the wilderness, and the road climbed up, up, up. It turned into a ridgetop mountain road, similar to the Blue Ridge Parkway or Cherohala Skyway, only higher, and twistier, and narrower, with no guard rails. There were a lot of spots where the ground dropped away and went down forever, right from the side of the road. Not a good place for people with vertigo. We saw herds of goats and sheep, sometimes right on the road itself, and people were selling something on the roadsides. I couldn't tell what it was. Bowls of round, light colored things. Olives?
The road climbed higher and the nuthammers pulled away from us. S and I let them go, and rode at our own pace. After a while we stopped and took some pictures. You could see for miles and miles from up there. It was gorgeous! S worried that we were stopping to take photos when the group hadn't stopped, and wanted to rehearse an excuse, but I'd had enough of this insistance on togetherness that didn't include any attention paid to whether the folks at the back were following or had been dropped. If asked, I planned to tell the unvarnished truth. We stopped to take pictures. If they were worried about us, they would have waited.
Elbasan was a nasty little industrial town. It appeared to be a smoggy, coal fired power plant, surrounded by other grimy industrial plants, and a snarl of towers carrying power lines in all directions. The whole thing was laid out in what looked like a mud pit. In the middle of the wild beauty of the valley farms and rugged mountains, Elbasan looked like the gates of hell. The effect was enhanced by the fact that there was a violent storm going on, with a dark black cloud and lots of lightning. It was not raining where we were; we were looking down into the storm. The road we were on descended to Elbasan via a whole lot of switchbacks, and in between the switchbacks were terraces with groves of what I think were olive trees. We rode onto wet pavement but we never did catch the storm. By the time we got down the hill, all that was left to mark the storm were some suspiciously filthy looking puddles.
We found the others at a cafe at the edge of town. They had found the one local guy who speaks English, and Robert and he were already great friends. Robert and Boban were making plans to return to Albania very soon, and their new pal was going to show them all around. It sounded fabulous, actually. Albania is stunningly beautiful, and it's certainly off the beaten trail. It would be a great adventure to spend a couple weeks there.
The group got underway again, and soon we were at the Macedonian border. Exiting Albania cost EU$2 each and we had to carry forms between multiple windows. Then we moved on the the Macedonian side, and carried forms around over there. It took a long time to get everyone through the border, and while we were there it got dark and started to rain. But eventually they let everyone through, even Elvis. Igor called ahead and our Macedonian hosts came up the hill to meet us. They found us at the gas station. Can you believe that for all our adventures in Albania, we never even had to get gas there? That's how short the distance was.
Our Macedonian hosts led us to the hotel they had arranged for us. We pulled in and parked neatly by the door. Too neatly, because before I'd even gotten off the bike, they'd changed their minds about where to put the bikes. They wanted us to park on the patio. It was tricky. The driveway were were on was one lane wide, and the drive to the patio was a two-rutter with paving bricks in the tire tracks, angled back the other way, so we had to make a tight turn and go up, and there was slippery mud in between the paving bricks. S was in front of me and he lost traction and almost fell over. So I waited until he'd cleared it, before I even tried to go up it. I sure didn't want to have to stop in the middle because he'd fallen in front of me! People started to yell advice at me. They seemed to think I'd stopped because I didn't know how to go up it. I ignored them. They were tired too, or they'd have realized I stopped because the rider in front was having trouble. Once S cleared it, I rode right up without incident.
The rain continued. We were shown to our rooms, and told to hurry back down for dinner because the kitchen would only be open another half hour. I was sharing a room with S. I considered taking a shower, but our bathroom was kind of scary. There was no shower stall or tub, just a drain in the floor, so water went all over the whole bathroom. There was a squishy foam mat on the floor. I just couldn't face it. So I changed into dry but dirty clothing and went down to the restaurant.
There was almost no one in the restaurant. Elvis was sitting at a table near the door and I joined him. Eventually most of the others appeared, and we moved to a larger table back by the bar. There was very loud recorded music playing, and since we were the only ones there we asked them to turn it down. They smiled and nodded and ignored this request. Menus were passed around, and food was ordered. Coca-colas and beers appeared, but no food. After a half hour or so the place started to fill up and a band came on. They were even louder than the recorded music. The place started to get very smoky. Still no food. Eventually some salads appeared. After an eternity for the salad, I was about ready to fall over. I was too tired to enjoy music, especially at these volumes, and I had used up all the voice I had screaming to communicate simple things like whether I wanted another Coca-cola. Would we ever see any more food? I considered going up to my room and having candy bars for dinner. I'd given most of my candy bars to the Albanian beggar children but I might have one left. My head was pounding. Irene and Trond looked even more unhappy than I felt. Even Igor looked exhausted. Robert and Boban were happier, they were staring at the singer with their tongues dragging on the ground. Eventually I couldn't stand it anymore, so I went out to the bike and got some earplugs. Finally the food appeared, and I ate a little bit very quickly, then excused myself. Irene, Trond and S weren't far behind me. I think they felt the same way I did, that if we'd known it would take this long and that the music would be this loud, we'd have just gone to bed without supper.
Later I learned that after dinner, Robert and Boban went out on the town and found a place to go dancing. I don't know where they found the energy.
Despite the exhaustion, the trip through Albania was beautiful and very exciting and I'm glad we did it. When I look back on the trip, the half day we spent in Albania will probably be the most memorable part.
Gasho is 1/5 owner of a large restaurant in a good location downtown. It's a bar and pizzeria with lots of sidewalk tables, and the pizzas were good. Montenegro is one of the poorer countries and several times while we were eating, children came up to our tables to beg. Gasho chased them away like flies, and cautioned us that these children will steal if you don't keep a sharp eye on your belongings. He didn't chase away the begging cats, though. One of them got a lot of my pepperoni. This cat looked a lot like Mac. He wouldn't let me pet him, but he stayed close by for a long time, waiting for more handouts. After lunch we took turns staying with the gear, and visiting the neighboring grocery store and bank machine. The bank machine wouldn't accept any of my cards, but I had enough cash to get some candy bars and bottled water, and some soap to hand wash my clothing.
After eating, we set out for Albania. Before we crossed, Igor lectured us on how Albania is very chaotic, and it's important that the group stay together. We should ride close, much closer than we'd been riding in the other countries, everyone must keep up, and we mustn't ever leave anyone behind. We all nodded our heads, but unfortunately I think every one of us thought "Finally the rest of these folks will have to ride more like me!"
The road we were on didn't look like a major highway, but apparently it's the main road from Montenegro to Albania. The border was a row of shacks on the side of the road. Crossing it took a long time. We had to produce our passports and documentation for our bikes. The insurance documents didn't list Albania for S and my bikes, so we had to pay EU$25 each for special Albanian insurance, which was sold out of one of the shacks by a cheerful Albanian guy. I had to wonder, if we ever needed to collect on this insurance, if it would even be possible? We also had to pay EU$10 each for visas, except for Elvis. After calling someone on his cell phone, the Albanian border guard informed us that it was EU$30 for a visa for an Israeli. He also said something about not being sure whether Elvis would be allowed into Macedonia at the other side. He put the money in his pocket. I waited patiently and watched the stray cats and dogs wandering around the border station. There's no point in getting snippy with border guards; if you piss them off they'll always get even. Smile and nod.
Finally they let us pass. The road wound about and eventually went into a village, where we got the most attention of anyplace we'd been. People came running out of the houses and down to the road to wave. One guy almost dropped his camera phone, he was in such a hurry to photograph us. I was surprised to see camera phones, since the houses didn't even look like they had electricity. Where do they charge them? At the end of the village, the road went over a decrepit one lane wooden bridge. It looked like a pedestrian bridge that would belong in a park, but it was carrying the motorized traffic on the main road through Albania. The bridge ended in a sort of gravel parking lot, and we had to make a tight turn to get back to the paved road. Little boys came running up, wanting to touch the bikes. They wanted to hear us twist the throttles, or better still they'd like us to stop and let them twist the throttles. Some of the guys obliged. The boys were thrilled.
Out on the road, staying together became a huge challenge. I think that when Igor gave his lecture, the slower riders expected the fast ones to slow down, and the fast ones expected the slow ones to speed up. So the nuthammers just nailed it, assuming everyone else would finally keep up. But they didn't. Once again, I was in the middle, trying to figure out whether to catch up with the riders ahead or slow down for the riders behind. The nuthammers flew down the road, passing cars like they were standing still. I watched Irene and Trond dwindle in my mirrors, as Igor &co dwindled up ahead of me. Now what? The road was straight and fairly open, but there were cows on the side of the road, with no fence, just rope leashes and human keepers. There were tractors, and mopeds, and bicycles, and the cars and trucks that were traveling at wildly different speeds. I didn't think I could catch the nuthammers; I was already going faster than I liked, especially given the close proximity of those cows.
Just then Irene passed me on her WeeStrom! Go Irene! She overtook Igor and got him to pull over. As I reached them, they were already having a shouting match. Irene was giving Igor holy hell for the dangerous speeds, for making people go 200kph. Igor was claiming that he wasn't going 200kph, and if he didn't go this fast then cars would pass him. Irene said that the people at the back have to go faster than the people at the front, to catch back up whenever they can't pass something as quickly. They were both spitting mad. Eventually they calmed down and we set out again, at a somewhat slower speed this time. It was still well beyond anything that would be legal in the USA, but it was no longer stupid fast. Occasionally a car would pass us, and I'm sure it upset Igor every time it happened, but really, if cars pass, you just let them, it's not the end of the world to be passed.
We stopped at a gas station to regroup, and it was starting to rain so I put on my rainsuit. We set out again into the rain, at a slightly more moderate speed. I think this was because Igor wasn't sure we were going the right way. The rain stopped. We stopped again, and Igor, Boban, and Gromko looked at the map and consulted with locals in some cars that stopped. I struggled out of my rainsuit while they did this, and almost didn't get going again in time to stay with the group when they left.
We reached the outskirts of Tirane and suddenly found ourselves in very heavy traffic. We stopped again to look at the map and consult the locals, then swung back out onto the road. The pavement disappeared shortly thereafter. There was rebar, but no cement. The traffic slowed to a walking pace, and lost all semblance of organization. The cars going our direction started lane splitting until they were three abreast and blocking traffic from the oncoming direction, and the oncoming traffic started filtering between us. The road was only about 20 feet wide, and it had a steep ditch on the side. I was soon the last rider in line, as the others squeezed through between two cars that then moved closer together blocked my passage. I was cut off from the others by a wall of cars pushing and shoving and honking their horns. There were cows, and there were manholes with no covers, and dead animals in the road, and chokind clouds of dust. The buildings along the road looked like they'd been bombed, but they were full of people, who were still waving and taking our pictures. I resigned myself to being left behind, and over the radio I told S that it had been nice knowing them. He pulled over and waited for me, and together we battled the chaos until we won through to a more normal street, and there, the others had waited for us. Thank goodness!
We then circled around Tirane for a while, trying to figure out which way to go. It looked desperately broken down and poor. The cars were rattly old things, and there were ragged looking people all over the place. Workmen rode in the backs of tired old trucks. There were lots of busses, and lots of people waiting for busses. We stopped a few more times so Igor and Boban could discuss the map with the locals. When we stopped, teenage boys would cluster around us, very excited about the bikes. They would chatter in Albanian and make signs asking if they could twist the throttles? Sometimes we let them, and they would rev the snot out of our bikes, and they'd get these huge grins on their faces.
Eventually we found the central square. There was a rectagular plaza, about two blocks that were just paved over and had planters and posts set around to keep the cars out. The traffic teemed around this plaza, and there were fancy buildings overlooking it. This area was in better state of repair than any part of Albania we'd seen so far; even the cars and people looked more prosperous. Robert managed to pull the whole group over into a little space where bikes could be parked out of traffic next to the plaza. He yelled "It's fookin Tirane! Stop! We have to take pictures!" So we took pictures.
A few begging children fought their way through the traffic to us, and Robert gave them Euros. I gave them candy bars. I figured the money would be taken off them instantly the minute we were out of sight, but I saw them eat the candy.
After a few minutes, Igor put his helmet back on and started his bike, so I did the same. Robert, who was parked next to me, had put away his digital camera and was taking pictures with his phone. I called to him to put his helmet on, we were leaving, and he said he'd catch up. As we pulled away I saw that four or five bikes did not follow. I mentioned this to S, who was up near the front of the group, and we dragged our feet a bit trying to slow the group so the others could catch up. We went around three sides of the square, then turned onto a street leading away from the square. I caught one last glimpse of the others, still standing where we'd stopped, and then they disappeared from my mirrors. I pulled to the side of the road, where I could see the square and they should see me when they came around, and waited. I talked to S on the radio, and he told me the group was turning right at the next street. Then we lost contact. I waited, and waited, and the others did not come. Finally I didn't dare wait any more. I was afraid I was now lost and alone. I rode up to the next corner, and turned right like S had informed me. I called over the radio and S replied, thank goodness! A block or two later the road forked, and there was S waiting at the left fork. We continued another couple blocks and the road forked again, and the others were waiting there. Igor asked me what happened and I said the others never came.
After some intense discussion, it was decided that the rest of us would wait here and NOT MOVE while Jordi (who had a GPS he could use to find us again) would go back and get the others. For the next hour, Jordi made ten or fifteen minute loops around the area, back and forth between here and where we'd left them, and tried to find them. He never did find them. While this was going on I had plenty of time to look around. The place where we were waiting looked calm and prosperous. There was a sidewalk cafe and well dressed people were sitting there. Women in business suits with briefcases crossed the street. There was a park across the street, shady trees, and perfectly normal store fronts. No cows or goats to be seen. A few begging children tried their luck with us but no one gave them anything so they wandered off to try their luck at the cafe, where they were run off by the proprietor.
Finally S said "Let's call all their cell phones and leave a message for them to meet us in the next town. We'll never find them in this big city, but the next town is smaller and it will be easier to find each other." So that's what we did. Just as S left the last message, his phone rang and it was them calling back. They were already in Elbasan. They would wait for us there.
After a bit of circling and map checking we finally found the right road. We soon left the prosperous neighborhood and were back into poorer areas. This side of town was hillier, and as the number of buildings diminished the road got twistier. Eventually we were back in the wilderness, and the road climbed up, up, up. It turned into a ridgetop mountain road, similar to the Blue Ridge Parkway or Cherohala Skyway, only higher, and twistier, and narrower, with no guard rails. There were a lot of spots where the ground dropped away and went down forever, right from the side of the road. Not a good place for people with vertigo. We saw herds of goats and sheep, sometimes right on the road itself, and people were selling something on the roadsides. I couldn't tell what it was. Bowls of round, light colored things. Olives?
The road climbed higher and the nuthammers pulled away from us. S and I let them go, and rode at our own pace. After a while we stopped and took some pictures. You could see for miles and miles from up there. It was gorgeous! S worried that we were stopping to take photos when the group hadn't stopped, and wanted to rehearse an excuse, but I'd had enough of this insistance on togetherness that didn't include any attention paid to whether the folks at the back were following or had been dropped. If asked, I planned to tell the unvarnished truth. We stopped to take pictures. If they were worried about us, they would have waited.
Elbasan was a nasty little industrial town. It appeared to be a smoggy, coal fired power plant, surrounded by other grimy industrial plants, and a snarl of towers carrying power lines in all directions. The whole thing was laid out in what looked like a mud pit. In the middle of the wild beauty of the valley farms and rugged mountains, Elbasan looked like the gates of hell. The effect was enhanced by the fact that there was a violent storm going on, with a dark black cloud and lots of lightning. It was not raining where we were; we were looking down into the storm. The road we were on descended to Elbasan via a whole lot of switchbacks, and in between the switchbacks were terraces with groves of what I think were olive trees. We rode onto wet pavement but we never did catch the storm. By the time we got down the hill, all that was left to mark the storm were some suspiciously filthy looking puddles.
We found the others at a cafe at the edge of town. They had found the one local guy who speaks English, and Robert and he were already great friends. Robert and Boban were making plans to return to Albania very soon, and their new pal was going to show them all around. It sounded fabulous, actually. Albania is stunningly beautiful, and it's certainly off the beaten trail. It would be a great adventure to spend a couple weeks there.
The group got underway again, and soon we were at the Macedonian border. Exiting Albania cost EU$2 each and we had to carry forms between multiple windows. Then we moved on the the Macedonian side, and carried forms around over there. It took a long time to get everyone through the border, and while we were there it got dark and started to rain. But eventually they let everyone through, even Elvis. Igor called ahead and our Macedonian hosts came up the hill to meet us. They found us at the gas station. Can you believe that for all our adventures in Albania, we never even had to get gas there? That's how short the distance was.
Our Macedonian hosts led us to the hotel they had arranged for us. We pulled in and parked neatly by the door. Too neatly, because before I'd even gotten off the bike, they'd changed their minds about where to put the bikes. They wanted us to park on the patio. It was tricky. The driveway were were on was one lane wide, and the drive to the patio was a two-rutter with paving bricks in the tire tracks, angled back the other way, so we had to make a tight turn and go up, and there was slippery mud in between the paving bricks. S was in front of me and he lost traction and almost fell over. So I waited until he'd cleared it, before I even tried to go up it. I sure didn't want to have to stop in the middle because he'd fallen in front of me! People started to yell advice at me. They seemed to think I'd stopped because I didn't know how to go up it. I ignored them. They were tired too, or they'd have realized I stopped because the rider in front was having trouble. Once S cleared it, I rode right up without incident.
The rain continued. We were shown to our rooms, and told to hurry back down for dinner because the kitchen would only be open another half hour. I was sharing a room with S. I considered taking a shower, but our bathroom was kind of scary. There was no shower stall or tub, just a drain in the floor, so water went all over the whole bathroom. There was a squishy foam mat on the floor. I just couldn't face it. So I changed into dry but dirty clothing and went down to the restaurant.
There was almost no one in the restaurant. Elvis was sitting at a table near the door and I joined him. Eventually most of the others appeared, and we moved to a larger table back by the bar. There was very loud recorded music playing, and since we were the only ones there we asked them to turn it down. They smiled and nodded and ignored this request. Menus were passed around, and food was ordered. Coca-colas and beers appeared, but no food. After a half hour or so the place started to fill up and a band came on. They were even louder than the recorded music. The place started to get very smoky. Still no food. Eventually some salads appeared. After an eternity for the salad, I was about ready to fall over. I was too tired to enjoy music, especially at these volumes, and I had used up all the voice I had screaming to communicate simple things like whether I wanted another Coca-cola. Would we ever see any more food? I considered going up to my room and having candy bars for dinner. I'd given most of my candy bars to the Albanian beggar children but I might have one left. My head was pounding. Irene and Trond looked even more unhappy than I felt. Even Igor looked exhausted. Robert and Boban were happier, they were staring at the singer with their tongues dragging on the ground. Eventually I couldn't stand it anymore, so I went out to the bike and got some earplugs. Finally the food appeared, and I ate a little bit very quickly, then excused myself. Irene, Trond and S weren't far behind me. I think they felt the same way I did, that if we'd known it would take this long and that the music would be this loud, we'd have just gone to bed without supper.
Later I learned that after dinner, Robert and Boban went out on the town and found a place to go dancing. I don't know where they found the energy.
Despite the exhaustion, the trip through Albania was beautiful and very exciting and I'm glad we did it. When I look back on the trip, the half day we spent in Albania will probably be the most memorable part.
