Balkan Snapshot: Mario Kart, Albania Style
This is the part where things go from idyllic to…less so.
We stop in Budva to have lunch, but rather than the touristy old town, Theresa finds us an out of the way hole-in-the wall family restaurant. The waiter is the son, the mom is the cook, and the food is delicious.
The kids all puzzle out how to order in credible local language, which delights the waiter. The restaurant has a semi-separate bar, upstairs patio that’s partially covered and has plant-walls. We spent much of lunch plotting our future family restaurant called “Seasosns,” which will feature a rotating menu of fresh foods themed by our travels. Ava will have a semi-separate bakery called DRW (Desserts Round the World). There will be a playground in the back and it will be dog-friendly.
Inspriration for our future restaurant
GPS has played more than one trick on us to this point, trying to save us 5 minutes by sending us up ridiculous roads and through back alleys, so I am now suspicious of any road that doesn’t have a sign.
We’re also now past any place where I have a connection who could come to our rescue in event of a disaster. I pass several GPS invitations to head up tiny roads into the hills, when finally…
Theresa says, “that’s it, babe. The road runs out. You gotta take this one.”
“This one” was a set of switchbacks on alternating pavement, gravel, and dirt that would have made a mountain-goat puke. Stone walls appeared at random intervals, leaving us inches on either side. Corners were blind, and I just honked and hoped, as I downshifted around and up, whispering silent prayers that the clutch would catch in time There would be an occasional audible gasp from the back seat, and I’m fairly certain that about 20 minutes in I started laughing like a maniac at the absurdity of it all. I have no idea what we would have done if a car had come from the other direction because there was no way I could do this backward.
And then it was done. The road broadened to a lane and a half (for two-way traffic), we started seeing road-side fruit stands, and an actual metal sign or two pointing us to our destination.
Albania deserves and will get its own blog post, but for the purposes of the trip, the border marked a very bright line (teaser alert: also a scene of an important interaction). The language went from “something I can mostly puzzle through” to “incomprehensible set of random letters.” Passing through the border put me immediately on edge.
The roads themselves were fine. The drivers were suicidal anarchists hell-bent on setting world records for “closest pass around a truck at 50mph into oncoming traffic.” The countryside is truly beautiful, with amazing mountains, fields of fruit trees, and hilltop fortresses from the medieval period. The countryside is also full of half-finished houses and hotels, many abandoned gas-stations, and an architecture that combines Classical Greek with Tony Soprano.
And then it got dark.
On the outskirts of Tirana, we started getting passed by ambulances going the other direction, and we saw smoke rising up into the air. The horizon on our left turned red, and it was clearly something large was on fire. We never did figure out what it was.
Tirana traffic is what happens when half a country’s population, freed from generational movement restrictions, moves to the capital city all at once and the infrasturcture struggles to catch up. GPS played games with us, sending us down alleys and passageways more suited to an interior hallway than an outdoor road. The alternative was stand-still traffic on the main roads. Did I mention this was a Monday night? As we got closer to the hotel, pedestrians with suicidal tendencies lunged in front of traffic.
All I will say is that not one minute of time I spent playing Mario Kart as a child or young adult was wasted training.
On the plus side, the Tiranans were 100% accustomed to negotiating these interactions and were happy to alternate or reverse. course when we reached an impasse.
When we finally reached the Hotel Mondial, it was a literal beacon in the night.
I have never been happier to reach a hotel, or been better served when we arrived.
There was a final spasm of alleys and sidewalk driving to get the van parked, but once we did the staff grabbed our backs, showed us through a lovely lobby to incredibly spacious and well appointed rooms. I stripped off my sweat-covered clothing, jumped in a gloriously hot shower, and headed downstairs to grab a well-deserved beverage and meal (which cost $40 for the 7 of us).
It wasn’t until later that night that we realized my passport was missing.
