The scenery changed drastically for the better once we headed south from Fier - beautiful mountainscapes, rustic villages, the roads occasionally clogged by a sheep herder; and oil drills, dozens upon dozens of them, dotting the landscape in between the farmlands.
Yet - am I the only person who sees a problem with this? Why do they think their little lakes have rather unattractive black rings around the edges? There are streams of black liquid oozing from these things all over the place; the drills are either poorly maintained or abandoned. Now, they just eat the vegetables and grains grown from their oil-soaked ground. And so do I, I guess!








Night set in just after we crossed a major checkpoint, with half a dozen police officers searching the baggage compartment of the bus and checking everyone's ID. We began to wind higher into the mountains, with me looking out the window as the Carpathians became darker and darker. At about 9pm I arrived in Gjirokaster, a wonderful time to arrive in a town that travel advisories tell me not to visit, and I began hunting around for a place to stay.
My first impression of the place, in the dark, was of another depressing town with no history and plenty of ugly buildings. The first hotel had a list of parliamentary guests on the door - meaning it would probably prove to be too expensive for me. I hitched a taxi and asked him to take me to an inexpensive hotel. The hotelier asked 10,000 Leke for the room - CDN100, or USD70, or rather preposterous if you ask me. His young daughter spoke english very well, and translated; she said the average price for a hotel room was 20,000 in this town, which seemed even more preposterous for a small Albanian town. Hard to conceive. And no one takes credit cards. I asked her where a cheaper hotel was, and her being too young to be in "rip off the foreigner" mode she pointed me up a hill in another direction - a pitch dark alleyway. Always an attractive option when you have all of your possessions on you, and it's your first night in a new town.

Of course I headed up that way - I noticed, after a little walking, that the ugly pavement had turned to smooth cobblestone, all neatly laid out. Old houses and walls, with ancient wooden doorways, started dotting the side of the narrow alley. Finally some real history, and real Europe, in an Albanian town.
The first hotel I checked was full. But across the street was another. It was a fierce five minutes of hand gestures and broken Italian for me to accept the double room - at 1000 Leke, or ten percent of the price of the other one. I still wonder if the girl had added another zero on the end of her price like the taxi driver in Fier did. Either way, one thousand Leke is fine. There were some rooms for 350, but I decided to splurge and pay the seven US bucks.

I dumped my bag and wandered around a bit. This must be the old centre - up on the hill, finally a cozy, human, European feel to an Albanian town. I was thirsty, and wandered into a cafe to grab a beer and a can of Fanta before it closed.
"I'm just taking this, and going out," I said to the bartender, who was washing dishes behind the bar; expecting him, of course, just to wave his hand asking for money to pay for them.
"Sure, you can take the whole thing for all I care," he said. My ears raised up.
"You speak english!"
"Yes, and I speak it well."
I rattled off a few questions to him - yes, many english speaking people come through here. No, none of them are tourists. He kept on assuming I was in Albania for 'information' - that I was a journalist. As always.
He mentioned a castle, on a hill, that I should visit in the morning. And also to come back in the morning for some good cappucino.
I'm glad I came here tonight. Watching sun set in the Balkan countryside looked like many a painting I have seen before. My nerves were on edge during the last half of the bus ride, as banditry is supposed to be prevalent in this region of Albania. But once again, no problems. I hope it stays that way.

Gjirokaster



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