Journey Around the Balkans – Montenegro

Leaving Edinburgh on 22nd September and flying SleazyJet to Dubrovnik, Croatia, I was met by my chauffeur and whisked immediately to the border with Montenegro where the 12 cars in front of us caused a 50 minute queue. #FutureBrexitProblems.

Met the tour guide in the hotel and was surprised to find that I was the only one that had arrived – a first for me! Wandered for 25 minutes into the neighbouring fortified town of Kotor to explore the lower part, buy some souvenirs and eat! They like their cats. They are everywhere.

The following day, the rest of the group (17 in all) had arrived and we met after breakfast for a standard briefing with our guide – Misa (Misha). The itinerary for the day was mostly about climbing. Walking back to Kotor, we started up some steps to the Kotor fortress with some amazing views back over the red roofs and tall Cyprus trees to the Bay of Kotor – a secluded T-shaped piece of water that still manages to fit a cruise ship or three in.

Some Bulgarians had encouraged some Merkins and others to dance on the top of the fortress.  Meanwhile, the rest of us were just trying to escape the 28°C heat! Descending, we crawled through a hole in the wall (likely not there when they were defending the town from the Ottomans) and headed down a short cliff to a church, and then zig-zagged down the path to the waterfront.

After a quick stop for lunch of squid stuffed with rice and squid, I managed an ice cream before meeting the group for an afternoon boat trip in the Bay of Kotor. The boat included the other Explore group and bounced around a bit, comically soaking some of us, but also damaging a camera of the other group.

After a couple of hours of bouncing around, we passed the natural island of St George, with a monastery on it. The island next door was called “Our Lady of the Rocks”. Every 22nd July the locals have puts rocks in their boats, sailed out and dropped them in the water to create the island. It has a Catholic church as the only building apart from the toilets. Tours of the church were conducted in hushed tones whilst a very officious woman controlled entry and ushered us on. Silver plates that had been donated to request prayers for things mostly featured boats. At least one person obviously wanted their legs included in a prayer though.

The short journey to Perast – not Paris, although the two are easily confused – allowed us to browse more churches, towers, ice cream shops and semi naked locals trying to catch a few rays away from the tourists, by planting their speedos in all the photos. The place only has a population of 350, but there are 21 churches! Outside of each, are tablecloth sales folk who were having a hard time persuading anyone of the need for their wares.

As the sun started setting behind the steep black mountain that gives Montenegro its name, we headed back to Dobrota and our hotel. An uneventful group meal followed (dodged the Scottish Indy questions), but the gruesome threesome found a pub within staggering distance from the hotel. Despite the lights being off, we persuaded the bar staff to pour a few rakija (the local spirit). Tried the Quince and the Apricot flavours – both nice. Apparently you supposed to sip them! Ah well.

The following day, the group piled into a yellow minibus fully filling all 18 seats. This was to be our home from crushed home for a while. We followed the road to Budva (no relation to the similar sounding drink) which is on the Montenegran “Riviera”. Not many took up the option to swim, when they saw the the narrow “sandy” beach fully of small pebbles. To get there, we were dropped at the local dogging area and had to walk through the most unattractive part of town, past a mini Eiffel tower. The marina was full of boats of varying sizes, some gin palaces and some that might struggle to fit a couple in.

Budva old town was demolished by an earthquake in 1979 and rebuilt over the next 10 years. It maintains its quaint alleyways and tourist based shops whilst having overly clean stone that makes it looks almost modern. A quick trip to the citadel provided a chance for €3.50 to make its way into the local economy for no particular reason. There were great views, but the overly frilly library tablecloths required a sharp exit. The small “old ship collection” of small ships was the high point of the visit.  Mostly because it was near the top of the citadel. The strains of Abba have been heard most places, but this town could have doubled as the film set for Mamma Mia.

After more ice cream, we rejoined the bus and headed for Sveti (Saint) Stefan, a posh hotel on an island (Novak Djokovic got married there!) It was connected to the mainland by a small causeway, but us riff raff weren’t allowed anywhere near.

We continued on the coast road to Virpazar, passing through tunnels and being regaled by tales of motorway construction from our tour leader. His mobile phone also has the loudest bike bell notification sound in the world. I mention this only because the motorway stories sent the bus to sleep and his popularity kept waking us up.

Arriving at the hotel, we discovered that every room had a balcony that was larger than the actual room itself. They were also arranged such that we could have a group meeting without too much effort. We headed to the pekara (bakery) that was recommended by our guide, only to discover that despite the sign, the tourist information office that now occupied the building did not serve lunches. We settled on the pub next door instead. Good choice for much cheapness and chicken stuffed with ham and cheese. I’m getting the feeling that they will stuff anything with anything. The cats were nervous.

After a short trip to the supermarket to stock up on supplies, the group boarded a boat and settled in below. As we headed out onto Lake Skadar, the captain descended to baton down the plastic windows, blocking our photography. He snorted somewhat when I asked him to leave one open, not quite understanding. Egg on my face, however, as the “storm” waves rushed over the bow and the waterproofs were donned by everyone else. I did contemplate a jumper. Thankfully, the two large trays of cakes we bought in the supermarket earlier were in waterproof containers and managed to be shared out amongst the group. I had more than my fair share. #DietFail.

We had been hoping to spot the Dalmatian Pelican (aka the white pelican), but the closest I got was the picture on the wall. The boat headed away from Albania and towards the smaller part of the lake. If we had been able to see it through the rain, I’m sure it would have been spectacular. I did spot some cormorants and coots though. The sky cleared on the way back and some spectacular scenery was eventually to be had.

Back on dry land, we were left to our own devices for the evening meal, but the majority headed out to the restaurant owned by the boat captain and we descended, past the toilets, to a lovely cosy wine cellar with eclectic stylings. There were just about enough seats, although we got the children’s table height-wise. Ordering first, we were almost finished the meal before the other two tables had even got their drinks. The waiter did have a small crisis with a tray containing red wine and beer, but he missed everything except the floor. A very nice schnitzel and some red wine later, and we were tempted into some free rakija. Apparently, you are still supposed to sip it. Not content with the great banter of the waiter and owner, the majority of the group headed back to the lunchtime pub for a few drinks, only to discover that our guide was staying there. We made it back to the hotel safely.

Leaving the hotel the next morning, I befriended a rather cute dog. Would have been an odd souvenir but I could have taken him home to fatten up. We drove to a viewpoint on the top of the nearest hill for some last fabulous views of Skadar lake and Virpazar. The road was very steep and the cows using it were not used to a minibus getting in their way.

We came back down to head north into the mountains of Montenegro, skirting the capital of Podgorica, and heading to our next stop – Moraca Monastery. We did pass the construction that Misa had mentioned for the new motorway, with a rather spectacular viaduct being constructed.

The landscape changed dramatically, with towering cliffs overlooking river gorges that only increased in size as we headed further north. Not quite sure why they put solar panels on the shady side of the road tunnels, but we had total confidence in our driver overtaking in the pitch black without being able to see the road ahead. The views were spectacular and no photo can do them justice.

The monastery itself was surrounded by accommodation and ancillary buildings. Large courgettes hung from trellis and young kittens sleepily basked in the sunshine. A water spray kept the vegetables happy in the garden and a large stone monument commemorated the dead of three wars – 1875-1880, 1912-1918 and 1941-1945. Old men in long flowing black cassocks hobbled around the grounds. It was a scene of perfect serenity. Then we turned up.

Inside the church itself, the Serbian Orthodox setup was pretty normal, with an iconostasis at one end and various blue frescoes on the walls. Not overly impressive, but well preserved/restored.

Moving on, we stopped for lunch at a restaurant, as we’d decided as a group not to accept supermarket shopping for a picnic (the choice wasn’t great!) Unfortunately, the choice at the restaurant was even poorer. I had a ham sandwich, which consisted of two large chunks of dry bread and some overly smoked ham. Thankfully, I’d had the common sense to order chips as well. Following that I stretched my legs downhill to the fish pond which they were raising money to create/restore. They hadn’t quite got enough for the fish yet. Or a pond cleaner. Or grass.

I rushed back to the bus, panting from the uphill run, to discover that I was indeed last back. An event that will not be repeated.

Following the Tara river, we reached a bridge that was built in the 1930’s, and then blown up to prevent the Nazis advancing in the 1940’s. One of the men who helped build it was also responsible for blowing it up. His statue was erected as a reminder of events. The bridge is 170m above the water, giving plenty opportunity for the two ziplines that operate from each side of the canyon. Lots of other activities on offer, but no time to do any of them unfortunately.

Arriving at our hotel in Zabljak, we had time to appreciate the spacious rooms, large cloakroom and tiny bathrooms – most with a glass sink where the taps were hidden below and the door had to be carefully squeezed past the basin. We changed into winter gear and headed out into the Durmitor National Park to walk around the Black Lake and its smaller sibling. The path started off well, but degenerated into a rather uneven stoney affair.

We stopped briefly at Tito’s cave, where he spent 9 days in 1943 sheltering from the people trying to kill him – there were a lot of them. Misa gave us the 10 minute talk on the background to the most recent Balkan political issues, dating back over 100 years. It didn’t all sink it, but basically Tito was a communist who did a lot of good, and the people look back on him mostly fondly. The Serbian King fled to London during WWII and his son, the prince didn’t even know the language when he was due to return. Tito took the opportunity and declared a republic (after an election). Tito died in 1980 and things slowly went to pot following that, culminating in the Balkan wars in the 1990’s. Bosnia still has issues. Serbia and Kosovo have issues. Basically it’s all likely to blow up again soon. People have long memories and past issues and current borders don’t really help.

As the sky grew darker, the black lake really took on its name. The road back was a touch chilly and we were all glad that the minibus came to pick us up, despite only being five minutes from the hotel.

We did venture out again for food and took the shortcut across the darkest path in the world. The restaurant offered “traditional” food, which I was suckered into accepting. Durmitor Steak – rolled steak stuffed with ham and cheese. Thankfully, I hadn’t ordered the burger, which was a large slab of mince that had been stood on by an elephant, with nothing else!

My upset at having the pancake order cancelled by the tour guide was tempered by the arrival of a birthday cake for one of the group, completed with rocket candle. A nice treat and probably better than pancakes! The entire group were offered grape rakija, but with some refusing it, I ended up with two.  Must remember to try only sipping it the next time.

Overnight, the hotel heating was well used, with temperatures sinking to -5°C. As we drove off in the morning, snow was spotted on one of the village roofs. We were at 1450m.

Petrol Station best buys

Petrol Station best buys

The following morning we headed off back to the Tara bridge, and turned north towards Serbia. After a petrol station stop, the border post was not long in coming, and we crossed the border in less than 25 minutes. The long queues of trucks, however… #FutureBrexitIssues

Overall, Montenegro has been a most unexpected country for me. Full of stunning birthdascenery, nice people and lots of nature opportunities. I didn’t expect to like it so much, but I did. Not really one for the beach though! Am surprised how little industrial agriculture there appeared to be. With a country of only 700,000 people, they do import a lot – even the well known prosciutto makers import their pigs. Would be more than happy to return!

Day 6 – Barra

You can tell the ferry leaves early in the morning, as the campsite traffic started at 6am!

Later, just as I was about to get up, the rain started.  The forecast had been 1% chance of rain, which was a bit disappointing.  I rolled over.  However, it was brief.  A gentle start today meant catching up on the blog and some more Peter May before the owner, Donald, turned up for his money.  Could have been any random stranger, and no receipt!  Still hopefully he will replenish the paper in the gent’s toilets.  Thankfully there was a shower in the next cubicle!

Headed back to Castlebay for a late breakfast courtesy of the Co-op and then joined the very short queue for the boat ride to Kisimul Castle.  Strictly every half hour for the 5 minute ride to the castle in the bay.  Only 12 allowed in the boat.  We had a couple of Canadians, a local and 2 young kids, so that pretty much filled it.  Deboating (how I love that word), we climbed a few steps and crossed into a small courtyard with a tower and four doorways – one to a chapel, one to the great hall (closed for restoration), one to the kitchen and one to the heir’s house aka tickets & shops.  The Macneil’s of Barra are most closely associated with the castle, although it is now in trust to Historic Scotland.  The boatman said the next boat leaves in 25 minutes, but surprisingly, it took almost 35 minutes to view these, and the battlements.  Love a good flag fluttering in the wind!  The next 20 minutes was spent on the rocks outside the gate, listening to the lies the Canadians were telling the kids about having to eat seal blood when it was cold.  They didn’t look that desperate to me!

Leaving the castle, the boatmen did a lap around it, allowing for plenty of photos from all sides.

I then headed north, along the eastern side of Barra.  The single track roads here were owned by the sheep and care had to be taken to avoid them, or end up causing a shortage of the local Barra lamb.  I could see me living at the picturesque Northbay.  Heading north and ignoring the turnoff to the ferry, I arrived at a long sandy beach, otherwise known as Barra Airport, with the red signs proclaiming that thou shalt not walk on the beach when the windsocks are flying.  Which they were.

I therefore turned in to the car park, and joined the masses to watch a Loganair plane come in to land.  It must have been a busy day at the airport, because within the next 20 minutes, another plane from Flybe arrived as well.  Apparently Barra has more runways that Heathrow, because they need to be able to adapt to the changing conditions.  The baggage reclaim area was an adapted bus shelter outside with a rusting metal roller conveyor.  Inside, at the café, come check-in, come gate, there were far more people than the planes could possibly accommodate.  It’s obviously a tourist attraction in its own right.  Some people apparently fly in and then out again on the next flight, just to say they’ve been there – no doubt picking up some of the souvenir t-shirts on the way.

Outside a horse, owner and dog, sporting matching fluorescent jackets were also proving popular.

After watching one of the planes depart, I moved further north to the spectacular scenery of Eoligarry and found two further campsites with views and access to the beach.  Climbing some rocks on the Atlantic side, I searched the rock pools and found many deep red aneanomies that were later indentified by the power of FaceBook.

Passing the airport once more, it would have been rude to not sample some of the now quieter café’s wares.  And their free WiFi!

Heading back down the east coast, I stopped at many of the scenic places for photos, but to be honest, I could have stopped every minute if I’d continued with that.  I was however hunting for the deserted village of Balnabodach.  Whilst there were some ruins obvious, they were in amongst some new housing.  It’s at times like these that a local guide would have been helpful!

I passed through Castlebay, stopping only briefly at the Barra Heritage & Cultural Centre (open 10am-3pm Monday-Friday only).  As this was Saturday, I abandoned all hope.

On the road south to Vatersay, I stopped at the top of the hill next to a very modern looking war memorial.  It also offered a panorama of Castlebay including Kisimul Castle.

Crossing the causeway to Vatersay, the single track roads managed to somehow become even narrower.  Thankfully the tourists were all going one way.  Mostly.  No accidents were had, although several close shaves were attempted.

The information sign at the Vatersay Community Hall had a 4 mile, 3 hour “moderate to demanding” route around the island shown, with “waymarked route markers” promised.  A walk along the eastermost beach proved an easy start, but no such markers existed after the first 40 minutes.  The sign had also indicated that it may be muddy – understatement of the year!  I ended up staring down cows, missing the south most beach and generally climbing the hill to see where on earth the waymarkers were supposed to be.  None could be found.  I headed cross country, with my peely white skin taking on a touch of the red.  A sudden confrontation with a bull caused a deviation, but I arrived relatively unscathed at Vatersay village.  A path to join the rest of the walk was not apparent, so I headed straight to the westernmost beach, which had a large group of nutters trying to surf.  They at least had wetsuits on.  However a solo (older) woman was valiantly battling the wave in a bathing suit.  I averted my eyes to the cuttlefish washed up on the beach. (Again identified by Facebook later on).

With the wind turning chilly, and the rescue helicopter hovering overhead, I headed back to the warmth of the car, double checking the sign for waymarked paths again, just to make sure I hadn’t dreamed it.

Driving back along the now deserted roads, I stopped at a memorial to the victims of a crashed Catalina plane (12^th May 1944).  What was unusual about this was that the plane was still there.  The bomb loading platform still clearly labelled and this and other pieces lying in what is now a small stream.  A small bunch of artificial poppies were stuck in one of the wings.

Before arriving back at Borve Campsite, I stopped at the Isle of Barra Beach Hotel – 5 minutes walk from the campsite, in the hope that it might prove to be a dinner option.  With starters at £9 and mains up to £32, it was too posh for me.  “I’m nae payin’ fir that!”

After meeting my new (male) German biker tent neighbours, I headed for the shower – only to be chased out by a father and small child who had been “in the sea”.  Well, really, you would have thought they’d have thought that through a bit more!

Abandoning the Germans to a hoped for pizza delivery, I headed back to the Castlebay Hotel for a slap up meal.  Hot smoked salmon, followed by Hunters Chicken.  It was the last night after all.  I felt not at all guilty to return to the campsite and charge my phone, only to be surrounded by campers all wanting to wash their dishes.  They were a multilingual lot – I caught French, Swedish and of course German.  Although they had already put their washbags down on the only two seats and wandered off.

With the sun setting and the wifi almost exhausted, I prepared for the early morning rise and finally managed to finish the Peter May book – always a twist at the end.  Hope that isn’t the same for me.

Day 10 – Sharr National Park & Into FYR Macedonia

Managed a late breakfast of yellow flakes and stale cake, before departing on the happy bus.

Leaving Prizren we meandered through a very narrow gorge and across a narrow iron bridge that would have been safer to walk over than drive over. Tzar Stefan Dusan IV’s monastery and castle was a pile of stones now – some probably removed to build the mosque in Prizren. The sole monk obviously ran retreats as there was a huge modern complex beside the old stones. The castle walls ran up the steep hill, and a stone bridge crossed the river – very scenic.

After an hour and a half drive, and accidentally driving too far, we arrived at the start of our forest walk. The cloud was low and although we were only climbing 200m, we ended up in a forest cloaked in a spookily silent cloud, dripping onto our backs as we walked through. As self nominated back marker, I had time to absorb the wonderful scenery – missing only the scent of a Scottish pine forest. Just as I commented to Tom that all the thistles were dead, a purple one popped up.

We met some locals who were intriguingly photogenic. We also saw our first highland refuse bin. Unused. But much better than the previous walk.

Made friends with a little dachshund who then followed me constantly until we reached the top end of a village used as a ski resort. Plenty houses under construction and some lived in. Most were for rent. One looked like a caravan gone wrong.

At the local restaurant we ate our packed lunches, after fending off more amorous dogs. There is nothing that can’t be fixed by the addition of the rather generous sugar sachets. Half milk, half yoghurt drinks being an exception.

After a 60 minute drive, where most of us were severely affected by the fresh air, we reached the Macedonian border. Goodbye Kosovo. Nice country. I hope I can return. Faleminderit.

Our driver and the border police in Macedonia had a bit of a shouting match. The rules for crossing borders here as not as lax as Albania/Kosovo. The rather burly man climbed on board the bus to brusquely collect our passports. Unfortunately he returned them without a stamp.

We were delayed further crossing the next barrier – customs. Fati earned his wage to present all the correct paperwork. 30 minutes after starting, we were through. Welcome to FYR Macedonia! The flag may be bright, but the weather is the same.

First stop was of course to the petrol station to exchange money. Spent £2.50 on a box of pringles, but took away the pain of that by also purchasing 2 white lion bars for 35p each.

Driving on to our hotel in Skopje, we arrived at a derelict, graffiti covered high rise. The prospects were not looking great. However, after climbing two flights of stairs we stepped into the most modern hotel yet. Each room is named after a city and has a mural appropriate to the city covering a whole wall. I had Barcelona and Gaudi’s Park Güell.

After a quick freshen up we met Endrit who gave a few brief blah blahs regarding our stay in Macedonia. Showed us a map and let us get on with it. The center was over 3km away from the hotel but most of us walked in.

We passed lots of big statues – mostly men on horses with guns or swords. Some fantastic sights greeted us on the centre with imposing columns for Alexander the Great and Philip II. Multicoloured fountains danced pleasingly and children tried to avoid getting wet. Hint – don’t go near the water.

We wandered across the Stone Bridge – aptly named. Picked up a few stray dogs again. Can’t resist a pet, even if they are a bit the worse for wear.

Found loads of tat shops in the Old Bazaar. It wasn’t so old – very modern shops, bars, cafes and restaurants – but a nice area to stroll around. Although Orthodox is the main religion in this country, they did manage a mosque or two in the middle.

We ate a large shared meal of mixed meat which was beautifully prepared. Tom (not sharing) had a bit of confusion regarding his order and ended up with a paltry amount of meat. We shared.

Wandering back, the Alexander the Great column was now lit up spectacularly with water cascading straight down from the top and lions squirting water at the base.

Avoiding a taxi, four of us walked back safely to the hotel with the bright lights of the Millenium Cross guiding us from its hilltop prominence.

Tomorrow a local guide will hopefully explain everything to us properly. Until then, Google is my friend.

Day 6 – Peja

Started off a relaxing day with a casual breakfast of hot dog sausage, cold fried egg and chicken pate on a fruit scone. Oops.

The promised thunderstorm was not present when we departed for a drive to the start of the walk. The drive was through a steep sided rock valley, with a narrow road, hairpin bends and tunnels hewn through the rock.

We arrived at a picturesque restaurant come viewpoint, where those that were not walking could spend the day. Plenty dogs to keep them company.

The walk started at 1428m and would rise about 400m. We climbed steeply on muddy paths covered in pine needles that would have been treacherous if wet. Passing some wildlife and rubbish strewn campsites, we stopped regularly before arriving at the big lake. This is the view used on the front page of the Kosovan travel guides.

I then stupidly decided to climb further to a saddle to let me look down on the next valley and the lake from above. Not worth the effort.

Back at the lake, my knees knackered from the steep muddy descent, I opened the driest chicken roll known to man. It sucked the moisture from the air.

The rest of the group had discovered that the lake had newts, together with bottles, plastic bags and chunks of bread floating.

As the clouds descended quickly, we started our descent.

On the way down, Tom smelt the beer in the restaurant, which helped speed up the decent. I passed a squirrel knocking its nuts together at the top of a tree.

Trail marker

On the way down, the wombles performed a litter pick, but even they gave up at the campsites. Back at the restaurant a skip was available, but it was unlikely that the locals would look after the countryside. Unfortunately.

Kosovo in a nutshell

We had time for a refreshing drink, before heading off to another Serbian Orthodox church – home of the Patriarch. This one was guarded by three policemen.

We met the nun who handed us brand new audio guides. These confused Endrit no end as he had never seen them before. The nun directed us to the randomly scattered numbers and then constantly checked we were standing in the correct place. It would surely have been easier for her to just give us a tour!

The frescoes were nice, but the broken English, highly technical, art & religious based commentary drove most of us mad. Less words, more understanding, please.

Back at the hotel, I wasn’t feeling particularly well, and ended up violently vomiting up something and at the same time doing my back out. I then slept from about 4pm until 7am the next morning, being woken every couple of hours with the nagging feeling that I’d missed the bus.

Day 4 – Walking in the Valbona Valley

Actually,  we walked in the neighbouring valley. After getting the bus to breakfast!

We were offered eggs – fried, omlette or scrambled – together with pancakes,  bread, cheese, butter,  jam and mountain tea.

Derek had bowed out of the walk and breakfast but our driver, Fati, joined us instead. We trekked slowly across a dry, stoney river bed and up to a mountain village consisting of two houses (took about 75 minutes).  Here we were amused by the dogs, cat, chickens, rabbit and other animals kept by the muslim owners.

The group were treated to two out of three of raki, turkish coffee and yoghurt with honey. I missed out the former.  I may be Scottish but I’m not alcoholic. Everyone seemed surprised at my choice, so I’ve got challenges to break the stereotype.

We did pass several large clumps of thistles on the way. It probably didn’t help that I referred to them as English repellant.

Trying to blend in with the people that go on beach holidays

Endrit took us a bit further to a meadow – he is not great with distances or times  so apparently the 30 minute walk took only 5 from the house. We were then able to walk on further ourselves or just relax for a couple of hours. More than half the group walked up to a higher meadow and sat and relaxed there.

The packed lunch was a hunk of bread,  some sausages and some things they apparently call “fruit”. I had my emergency ration of pringles to help out.

Fantastic views and the perfect temperature with a light wind made it the perfect activity for the day.

We wandered back for the appointed time, narrowly avoiding the cows with horns on the same narrow path.

I headed downhill in record time chatting to Fati about the corrupt Albanian government and how his taxes are all spent on the wrong things.  I empathised with him. We also discussed the difference between the north and south – “all these Northern Albanians keep coming south without paying taxes”. Basically a lot of Albanians leave the country because there is no employment (they send money back to families here), but he reckons that some are now starting to return.

Mountain biking, rafting and canoeing are apparently also very popular.  (See we did talk about other things as well! )

Back at the bus we side stepped it in favour of the local café where Endrit and Fati demonstrated their (lack of) basketball skills whilst some other young tourists tried not to be caught smoking the wrong stuff by two policemen who were also inside.

Albanian policemen are used instead of speed cameras.  There are lots of them.  They don’t look like they have an awful lot of work to do in the Valbona valley though.

A man on a horse rode past whilst using his mobile phone. I wonder if that’s illegal?

Driving back to the residence, we passed a lot of mushroom shaped bunkers, originally built in the late 1960s. There are over 700,000 of them in Albania, but they have never been used. Somebody thought it was a good idea at the time. The locals are now breaking up the concrete to get to the metal.  This is now being “recycled”!

After a quick clean up and repack, I headed off to a tranquil spot where I could watch the families working.  All ages, including toddlers were helping with the corn harvest, picking potatoes or tending to the horse.  Then four cows were herded up past me by a 12(?) year old girl keen to try out her very good English.

Off we piled in the bus again for another meal in the restaurant. This time quite eventful. Firstly one of group was a bit unwell when the soup arrived. Probably too much exercise but was also diabetic.  I was also keeking myself when Janice innocently asked Georgio if he “had a 7 incher”. He managed to keep a straight face as he confirmed the size of his tablet.

Derek however wasn’t having a good day. He hadn’t felt well all day and ended up in hospital after briefly going unconscious at the table. The ambassadors from Slovakia, Czech Republic and Poland who were dining at the next table thankfully hadn’t arrived by that point.

The meal itself was cremated lamb chops and peppers stuffed with rice –  disappointing.  I managed to struggle through the Albanian for “do we get dessert?” Unfortunately the answer was no.

This left as with no bus and no bus driver and the prospect of a 1km walk in the dark back to our accommodation.  Luckily 3 of the group had torches and we texted Endrit to tell him what was happening, together with a time to meet in the morning. Google translate also helped us arrange breakfast with the restaurant for 8:15am.

We walked slowly back along the tarmac road with only a solitary car stopping to ask if we were OK. My suggestion of a three legged race on the stoney part was not acceptable to the rest of the group. Spoilsports.

After 14 people were counted successfully back into the residence, room 6 balcony was again declared open and the orange liqueur and pringles were promptly finished off after a wide ranging political discussion between Tom, Steve and myself.

Early start for a busy day tomorrow.  Hope Derek is alright.