Two Biked Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Montengro – Mejde, Albania – Suc, Albania

It’s a little bit dizzying to go through so many countries so quickly. In the past four days we’ve been through Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, and, now, Albania – the twentieth country on our trip so far . . . 

We haven’t reported much on Montenegro yet. 

In short, we weren’t there very long, but we loved it.

Here’s my Montenegro story . . . 

When I was growing up I had a Great-Aunt (my Dad’s Aunt) named Elsie. Elsie was married to Ernie. Kind of interesting. Elsie was my Grandpa’s younger sister. And Ernie was my Grandma’s older brother. I know it sounds kind of incestuous, but it was all legit. It’s just that my Dad’s cousin, Weslie, was basically the exact same genetic stock as my Dad. So I guess it would have been a bad idea for them to have kids together . . .

Anyway, Elsie had kind of an outsize influence on my life. She taught me all kinds of card games – like Kings in the Corner, Rummy, Gin Rummy, etc. I’m sure Ernie was a good guy at one point, but by the time I knew him he was just kind of a shell of a man. He had fought in World War II, and my sense is that he never recovered from whatever he saw. 

Elsie had diabetes – and for good reason. She was a healthy eater – and by that I don’t mean that she ate spinach. No. There was plenty of soda pop and sweets. She was always baking. But the diabetes was kind of a bummer. First she lost her toes, and then one leg, and then the other. Sad.

I remember Elsie talking about when they lived in Montevideo. It seemed like her life was better then – and for the longest time I kind of had Montevideo, Monte Carlo, and Montenegro all mixed up. They were just one big happy place. 

It’s only in the last few weeks that I’ve begun to realize that these are three very different places. 

First, Monte Carlo. I never really understood what Monte Carlo was before; but after our close brush with Monaco, I finally realized that it’s a fancy city – with casinos and big car races and stuff. 

Then Montenegro. At least for me this was one of those obscure countries that I kind of knew existed, but that’s about it. Well, I’ve learned now that it was part of Yugoslavia, it’s part Christian and part Muslim, it has a beautiful coastline, and it broke away from Serbia about twenty years ago. 

Montevideo? It’s just a little town in Minnesota – near Fergus Falls – where the old family farms were a hundred years ago. Population: about 5,000 – and dropping. Not sure where the “Mont” – as in mountain – came from . . . But let’s just say it’s no Monte Carlo or Montenegro . . .

Yesterday, we passed into Albania. 

For us, it was like going back in time. Specifically, like going back to Mexico, or Central America generally. Lots of trash lying around, sullying streams and rivers. Smelly. Yucky. People selling things along the road – like potatoes. Or used clothes. Old train tracks in disrepair. Cars in disrepair. People driving really old motorbikes around for transportation. And super friendly people. 

Can I just say that the further we go into Eastern Europe the more down I am on Western Europe. Spain? We basically didn’t talk to a single Spaniard – outside of immigrants from Morocco. France? The French were a little better, I guess – but I think we’ve already met more Albanians in ten hours than we met French in ten days. Italians? Forget about it. 

Maybe it has something to do with the wealth of a country. Seems like the better people are doing the less they care about anyone but themselves. (Sound familiar?). Which is fine. Totally their prerogative. But considering that I get a great amount of joy out of conversing with people and getting their stories, I’m not sure I want to go back anytime soon . . .

There weren’t any (open) campgrounds in our destination area today. And the hotels are super cheap anyway. We ended up staying at a nice place – for only $5 more than we pay at some of the campgrounds. Everyone was super accommodating – and we all did our best to communicate even with the limited common languages. Fortunately, most young people in Albania seem to know English – and there is a seventeen-year-old – Hamish (sp?) working here. 

As we go south the temperatures are going up. By the time we rolled in yesterday afternoon we were hot. The upshot is that Diana was disappointed that there was no pool. But when Diana asked if we could swim in the nearby river, Hamish demurred, but said the water was very cold

The water was frigid, but it was fun to go. Some local boys drove up soon after our arrival and jumped off the rickety bridge that was nearby – yelling and screaming because of the cold. I think Diana ended up going in and out of the water like ten times. Love seeing her enjoying the water – she’s like a mermaid who needs to be immersed every so often lest she melt away . . .

Afterwards, we decided to go check out a nearby “castle.” Castle Danja. All we knew is that Google showed it, and the map seemed to indicate it was on top of a big hill/mountain thing that overlooked the town. The directions showed a line to the back side of the mountain and then a dotted line – apparently to the top. 

We headed over. The density of tourists was not quite the same as Dubrovnik, but there was a lot of crying and bleating, and scrambling around happening. Some of the tourists had horns, and they were all amazing climbers. Eventually we came upon Antony. He was walking around shirtless, trying to keep everyone in order. 

We asked him about the castle. His English was limited, at best, but he conveyed that there was, indeed, a castle on top of the mountain. Danja! He also managed to tell us that Albania was playing Serbia in soccer – starting at 9 p.m. We hadn’t asked him about this, but it was obviously very important to him.

(Later, I ended up seeing a news item about a match between these countries that took place about ten years ago. I guess an Albanian fan displayed some type of flag or something that was associated with the idea that maybe the Albanian borders should be expanded to include part of Serbia – where there are, apparently, a bunch of ethnic Albanians living. That didn’t go over so well, and I guess total chaos ensued and they had to stop the game. Last night they had tons of police around and things went okay. Final score: 0-0.)

Afrter we left Antony, we ended up finding our way to the top of the hill. Quite a winding path – and not necessarily fit for people wearing crocs. On the way up we heard a cuckoo bird singing. The thing is a few days ago I didn’t even know there really were cuckoo birds – I thought clocks just made that noise … It’s pretty fun to actually hear them – although I’m not sure if they really understand time at all because they’re singing doesn’t seem to happen on the hour or anything…

While the castle was not quite as grand as some we’ve seen, and was maybe showing its wear a bit, the views were amazing. We walked around on top, took some pictures, and then . . .

A SNAKE!!!!

We’re not talking some ninny Minnesota snake either. 

This one was probably 3’ long and as big as my arm. It was brown, and ugly. 

And slithery. 

And clearly wanted to eat us.

There is maybe no way to describe in words just how awful this was. But here is a 100% accurate, true and correct picture of what happened:

Now, fortunately, because of my bravery, we survived. But it was a close call; I think I saw the afterworld for a moment . . . 

And it looked like Albania.

It’s a day later now – and I’m sitting in a churchyard campground writing away. And I have to say, Albania is probably my favorite country that we’ve been to. 

The mountains are amazingly beautiful. Not too steep, or too high – but lush and green and rolling. 

The people we’ve met are so friendly and kind, frequently going out of their way to greet us and welcome us to their country. I’ll come back to this point in a minute . . . 

And the food – again, I think it’s the best food we’ve had on our whole journey. First of all, I love Greek salad. Not the sad version that we have at home – with our plastic tomatoes – but real, Meditteranean Greek salad. Check. And when they give you a dish around here it is not just one thing. Like in Chile you would order a steak and they would give you a steak. No potatoes. No rice. Definitely no vegetables. Just a piece of meat. Here? Your plate is an embarrassment of riches – maybe kebab meat, feta cheese, a relish salad, vegetables, olives, yogurt sauce, and potatoes.

And the price? Almost like being back in Latin America again. 

Back to the people . . .

Usually I try to be somewhat reserved and just comment on the small subset of people we have met. But that just seems wrong around here. Everywhere we go people are smiling and reaching out and being helpful and welcoming. 

A few examples . . .

This morning we stopped at a gas station to get some water and supplies. I noticed that this woman had a hose and was washing down some cars. After a few minutes she paused and put the hose down. I picked it up and mimed spraying off our bikes, asking if it would be okay. She mimed back:

”Yes, fine. But only use the water for washing. Not for drinking.”

”I understand,” I told her, using our momentary mind meld. 

We took the bags off of the bikes, wheeled them into position, and I went to start spraying. Before I could even think about next steps – like turning the hose on – the water started, and I saw that she was over at the spigot, acting as my assistant. I sprayed Little Ann down, and then went to turn the hose off while I brought Old Dan into position. Again, before I could even put the hose down the water shut off. Once again, my new assistant had taken care of it. This went on for a few minutes while we re-positioned the bikes for more spraying . . .

When we were done I thanked her and gave her a little change for her troubles. “No, no,” she said, and she added “I couldn’t possibly take this,” in our mutual mind meld language. 

Nonetheless I pressed the change into her hand and then asked if we could take a picture together. She was happy to oblige, and then started blowing us kisses as we biked off. 

Later, we’re biking along when someone drives up  beside Diana and asks if she needs any help. Thinking that they were joking, Diana said yes, she did need help. They immediately pulled over. Not a joke. Just friendly people being kind and generous. 

Finally, at the end of the day, we’re looking for a restaurant that is open and serving food. I ask in some cafe type place, and the young man that I’m talking to tells me that they are serving pizza and sandwiches, but nothing else. 

“Hmm, no. That won’t go over with Diana,” I think. 

We ask if there is anyplace else that might be serving more. Ten minutes later, he has pulled up info on my phone, he’s showed us the menu, and he’s called the place he’s recommending to make sure it was open. And then he maps the location and sends us on our way. When we asked if he learned English in school, he told us: “No, I learned it on You Tube when I was a boy…”

If we had asked a question about another restaurant in Spain or France we would have been lucky to get a disgusted look. 

Just sayin’.

Okay, just one more thing I wanted to add . . . Your little history lesson for the day . . .

Albanian communism was of the totally crazy variety. Basically turned away from the world and were militant in their Marxist beliefs. The way our campground hosts describe it, it was like North Korea is now. Sounds bad. 

I guess in the late-‘60s the government decided to ban all religion. That’s not the bad part. The bad part is that they destroyed all the churches and mosques. 

On our way back from the castle last night we came upon a church and a plaque that talked about this. The current church was re-built after the old regime was toppled. But the old church was built in like 1300 or something and was a pretty important place. Some king and queen were married there. 

And then the “campground” we’re at today is, as I said, in a churchyard. Nice little stone church. Just built since 1990, when the old regime fell. Because the old regime destroyed the church that had been here . . .

I guess you know I’m not super religious or anything, but destroying 600+ year old buildings because of your political zeal is crazy. 

My sense is that after the years of Communist rule, the Albanians are pretty excited with what’s ahead of them . . . I don’t blame them. This is clearly like the little train that could. 

My only regret is that we won’t be here longer . . . Tomorrow we keep trucking toward Lake Ohrid, which is supposed to be amazing. And then North Macedonia, and finally Greece. 

That’s the news from the Balkans. Where the cuckoos are cuckooing and the people are generous and kind.