Chelsea & Rusty's Adventures: Montenegro to Albania - Act 1, or, Reminiscing after 6 weeks

The sound of children playing acts as some comfort to me. It does not matter where you are in the world, children playing, yelling to each other with their high pitched voices, laughing, and even crying; it all sounds the same. From a rooftop in Marrakech, on the beach of a small fishing village in Albania, on a dirt road leading to a remote village in South Africa, or on a park bench near an ice skating rink in New York City; the sounds have all been the same and there is no distinguishing them. It may be the only completely constant sound one can find in the world.

Retrospect and prospect are the two times that travel has its strongest allure. Less than adequate sleep, disorientation, inability to communicate, and a general lack of time, plague the independent traveler. Being adventurous idealists, we decided to visit some of the Balkan nations on our way to Greece from Italy. We found Croatia enchanting, the coastlines are a paradisiacal place; more satisfying and beautiful than any others we have ever seen. Going further south, at a faster pace, we went through the ever beautiful Montenegro with her lofty mountainside shores and hospitable people. Bemused at these gems, we entered Albania with little preparation save a few torn out pages from our European travel guide.

Early Saturday morning, we hailed a taxi to the bus station in Budva, Montenegro. We got on a bus headed for Ulcinje near the border of Albania. From Ulcine we waited for another bus bound for the Albanian border town of Shkodra. Arriving in Shkodra, the bus driver who did not speak any English asked where we wanted to be dropped. Some of the other passengers helped us explain that we wanted to get a bus to Tirana, Albania’s capital city. Dropping us off on the side of a dusty nondescript road we followed another English speaking passenger to some buses sitting in a small parking lot, he urged us onto a nice bus, where he began to ask us where we were from and where we were going.

Having read too many travel blogs and travel guides explaining the dangers of scam artists, we have been wary of anyone offering us advice or asking too many questions. Especially after having people constantly asking us for money after giving us “help” in Morocco, we have had our guard up. The fellow on the bus suggested that we do not go directly into Tirana, but head to another town nearby and catch a bus headed to our destination in the South. After some time and personal deliberation we began to talk to him more, finding out more about him, he seemed like a nice fellow who was just trying to be friendly and helpful. So we took his advice and alighted the bus outside of Tirana with him, as he was going that way anyway. We stood with him on the roadside as he negotiated a fare to Durres with a toothless furghon (large taxi) driver, who subsequently offered us a ride for about 3 dollars apiece. Our friend, who was on business in Albania from Kosovo, narrated our drive with historical and anecdotal repartee about the Balkan states, specifically, Albania.

At the behest of our Kosavoan friend, the driver dropped us off in the main traffic roundabout in town and instructed us to wait for a bus bearing the name of the town we wished to go to, Vlore. We bid farewell to our friend and waited, all the while rejecting offers from taxi drivers to take us further for exorbitant fees. Desperate for a ride, we hopped on a dilapidated furgon heading south to Vlore.

Rattling recklessly down the road we made it about three quarters of the way to Vlore, before the frughon, with flashing dashboard lights, broke down. Instructing us to exit the vehicle, whilst attempting to hail another passing furghon, we again waited helplessly. Within minutes, a passing car with a nefarious looking driver offered to take us to Vlore, for a small fee. Our flustered firghon driver demanded full payment, to which we eventually acquiesced. He took the money and gave a portion to the would-be Samaritan that offered us further passage to Vlore.

Unable to communicate in this very foreign environment and without any real idea where we were located in Albania, we entered yet another ramshackle vehicle headed to a place that we knew little about. Within about three minutes of embarking with this disreputable looking driver, he turned onto dusty road; parking behind an unmarked furghon, stating simply “Vlore, here.” On guard, I quickly rebuttled that he was to take us to Vlore and this certainly wasn’t Vlore. Vlore was at least 15 kilometers from there. He then proceeded to help me understand that he wanted us to take the furghon to Vlore. Not being able to really argue with him, due to our language barrier. Again we gave in, with no local currency left over, we began to negotiate a fare to Vlore with a ten Euro note that we fortunately scrounged up. Suffice it to say the exchange rate this furghon driver offered seemed neither fare or honest to us. Disheartened, disoriented, and discharged; we quietly squeezed into the little decaying van between some melancholy looking locals.

Driving in Albania seems to be more of a thrill ride than a means of transport. Most of the roads that we encountered were a mix of newly paved unmarked thoroughfares speckled with deep pot holes and old bumpy dusty roads that had not been paved or repaired for decades. Apparently there is a high traffic accident rate in Albania, driver’s barrel down these roads at hazardous speeds, disregarding the laws of physics and the direction of traffic flow. Repeatedly we found ourselves facing what looked like certain death; playing chicken with big rigs (while entirely in their lane), flying around cliff side bends with wheels screeching while in the lane of oncoming traffic, with only the horn honking to declare our arrival.

One Taxi, two buses, three furghons, and a beat up car later; we arrived in Vlore; the driver dropped us off in the middle of town so that we might find some sort of accommodation for the night. The main drag in Vlore was lovely, we found a nice hotel for a low price, recomposing ourselves we found dinner and went to bed early in hopes of finding a church in the morning.