Fresh Off the Boat: Next stop, Albania

Thanks to a very handsome Australian, I was given the contact details of a hostel in Berat, Albania that was looking for helpers. I jumped at the opportunity as my Schengen Visa was about to expire and I had to get the heck out of dodge. So I made my way to Bari, Italy where the 9 hour ferry would take me across the Adriatic to Durres, a port city along the coast of Albania. Well that 9 hour journey stretched itself long and thin until it reached 14 hours. From Durres I took a furgon (privately owned van that shuttles paying customers from city to city) to Berat where I was greeted by an Ottoman oasis. The important thing, I must recognize, is that I made it to Albania, but the getting there wasn't all rainbows and sunshine. So that's where the juicy bit comes in...

The sun had long since set and after a long, bumpy bus ride to Bari's port, a dark dust had managed its way across the entire harbor. As I stepped off the bus, only to be greeted by a toothless grin and shaky hands. A middle-aged man stood between me and my exit from the bus and from what broken English he had, he was going to escort me through the haunted harbor to the ferry. I humored this "gentleman" and followed a few paces behind him as if to allow him the feeling of leadership and importance and after a few minutes was led astray by a shorter route.

Waiting in line for customs, I took in my surroundings. Dark, worn eyes were plastered to my own and I couldn't help but feel like a black dot on a clean sheet of loose leaf. The ferry was, as you already know, delayed due to a growing mass of human bodies that squirmed against each other while waiting to have their papers signed. In an attempt to avoid the unnerving stares of the queue, I dragged my pack to a welcoming corner as to wait out the crowd. When my turn finally came I approached the customs window with a bright smile and an open passport. He closed it, read the country name on the cover and ushered me to join the rest of the cattle.

Boarding the ferry at nearly 2am, arms dragging and head swagging, I was called to attention by the thick cloud of smoke that hung lazily all throughout the ferry. I had forgotten about the lack of smoking restrictions in Europe. I walked past the groupings of people with their hoards of bags and Italian goods and meandered through the isles. With eyes piercing the back of my skull I knew there was no seat for me there and so I found a smaller room used for film viewings and set up camp in a nearby corner. It was in these hidden nooks, those forgotten corners that I felt the most at ease.

Using a sweater as a blanket I shivered my way through the night, waking up occasionally to curious eyes scouring over me. Exhausted and frustrated, I pulled the sweater over my face and forced myself back into sleep. I just had to get through the night. Once in the night I woke to a different face peering over the sweater. A salt and pepper haired woman with deep tell tale lines that ran across her face in a drooping half-smile shook her head at me once and reached down towards my feet. Naturally I flinched at her touch but was then calmed by her soft old hand when she took the sweater that had fallen askew and covered my feet with it. She was my guardian angel.

When the sunlight began to pour through the portholes and swirling cigarette smoke and voices filled the tiny room, I knew that there was no chance for sleep. I left my bags in the corner and as I stepped out onto the top deck I passed by two of the men who had watched me the previous night. I cringed as our shoulders brushed and thinking it as an invite, they leaned in leaving me with a hissing sound that rang through my ears long after they passed. Forgetting my initial desire for fresh air, I high-tailed it back to my corner and remained hidden beneath my pack until the ferry docked.

In over my head and shaking, I once again lined up for customs. By this point I was already expecting the probing stares that awaited me in the queue and I the second time around I took them with a grain of salt, sure that any Westerner would be greeted the same. Not quite 11 in the morning, the sun already began to blister the streets and left me panting my way through the bustling crowds. Every taxi driver in the vicinity could smell the fear and confusion the clung to my body and they attacked in a disheveled ferocity. I was pulled back and forth like a pack of wolves devouring their prey and had haggles thrown at me with excessive force from every which way. Looking for an out, I broke through the buzzing drivers and ran towards a security officer in uniform. I breathed a sigh of relief when he smiled with my approach that I quickly exhaled upon finding his sole language was Albanian. I was on my own, once again, and in Albania to boot.

Then, like you see in movies, the security guard laughed a deep bellowing laugh and said in perfect English, "Just kidding, I speak perfect English. Now how may I help you?". Pfft, yeah right. What happened next was something no one could have predicted and still, to this day, leaves me stumped. A tall, broad shouldered young man with short brown hair that had a tenancy to fall over his eyes came bouncing up beside me and said, "Hi. Are you lost?". Hallelujah! And hell yes; the answer to his question was and absolute yes.

His name was Bori and he was a 23 year old Albanian truck driver who as it just so happens managed to be in the right spot at the right time. I followed him through the broken cobblestone streets, that looked as if they had just seen a World War, where he led me to the bus station, an ATM, and finally to a cafe for lunch. Halfway through the meal that he had persuaded me to join him in, I asked him the question that had been churning in my gut from the moment we met. "Why are you being so nice to me?" His answer was simple. It was concise and to the point, but the weight of his words stretched further than his mouth would take them. "Because no one else would."

My first impression of Albania was one from a girl still living in a dream world. From a girl who wasn't ready for the toll that was to be taken by a country that's never been given enough. But now, when a stranger asks my opinion of the country, I reply with an open heart and a melting smile that takes me back to the stranger that unveiled to me the good of this world that's sometimes hidden in the forgotten corner.