The countdown to "America" has commenced. We made our paper chain today of pink and orange construction paper.
The kids are excited but I'm starting to feel that tightness in my chest that comes with long lists and short, hard deadlines.
While we have our return tickets to Albania for September 1 (and that will be here before we know it!), there are some things we had hoped to do this first term, but for a variety of reasons they just haven't happened.
One of those "wishlist" items was to see northern Albania to round out our cultural immersion. (You may recall last year about this time we took a tour of the south).
In all of my previous visits to this country there were more accessible and safer places to explore. The ruggedness of the terrain maintained a certain sense of isolation, perpetuating mystique and intrigue. Legends have prevailed of blood feuds, road-side bandits, and strictly-held customs that hearken back to centuries gone by.
But as the years pass and roads improve, fewer areas remain 'as they were' and there is a desire to see it before the busloads of tourists and tacky billboards arrive.
The problem with making such a trip (aside from simply finding the time to go) is that tracking down a place to sleep or eat is not as simple as performing an internet search or punching in restaurant options on the GPS.
Last August we were supposed to go up North with Mandi and a village friend from the region, but for a variety of reasons it got postponed and life got busy.
Then, a little over a month or so ago, Mandi revisited the idea, this time suggesting we take the Planters youth ministry staff. Mersin is native to the northernmost regions of Albania and could be our tour guide. Not to mention it would just be good and fun to spend time together outside of "work."
The dates kept changing, but finally, after comparing everyone's schedules it was suggested we leave after Kids' Club on Saturday, May 2, returning Sunday, the next afternoon or evening.
Yes. That would be Saturday, the day after the Santors (family of 7) left at 8PM the night before, after a nine-day visit.
I woke up completely exhausted Saturday, unsure if I could even make the trip. It was nothing I don't normally feel after hosting for an extended time -- I just usually give myself a day to move a little slower with no appointments.
Nathan let me skip kids club to lay back down. I wasn't feeling well -- like someone had doped me with a double dose of Benadryl and I had no power (I blame the orange blossoms in Elbasan for stoking up my seasonal allergies).
After a morning nap and lot of mental back and forth, I eventually agreed to go for it. I think only my fear that another year or two (or more) might pass before I'd get this chance compelled me to stuff a few pieces of clothes into an overnight bag and leave a load of towels drying on the line.
I was so glad I did!
We all fit in a 9-passenger van and made our way to the Kosovo border. Our destination for the evening was Tropoje (yes, you might recognize the name from the Taken movies) and someone else told someone in our group that it was actually easier to reach the Valbona region from Kosovo rather than to drive the curvy mountain road from Kukes (Koo-kess, red flag below).
Neither Nathan nor I have ever been to Kosovo and were extremely curious about our Albanian "cousins" across the border. We skirted Prizren and made our way west to Gjukove where we stopped for coffee and an early supper as we were told there was no place to eat by our hotel in the village of Tropoje e Vjeter (Old Tropoje).
While we were only in Kosove a few hours, my initial impressions were that the country felt more "European" with box-ier houses, fewer security walls, more green space, and less litter. At the same time it was very reassuring to see the Albanian flag proudly waving everywhere.
After supper we set off for Old Tropoje re-entering Albania at a sleepy border crossing on a mountainside, arriving in the tiny village after dark. We were staying on the 2nd floor of a recently renovated old home. The owners were hoping to enter the hospitality industry and had just turned the upper floor of their home into a guesthouse. We were connected to them through their travel-agent relative in Tirana who also goes to church with our colleague Arjan. Yep, that's how just about everything works here. ;-)
It was absolutely perfect -- 3 bedrooms, beds for 9 (with flannel sheets!), and a lounge area for chatting (and eating breakfast). I think we were the first people to stay in our bedroom. The bathroom sink still had a price tag affixed to the pedestal and fresh grout stains marked the edges of new tiles.
Our hosts served us homemade berry juice. The wife wore her hair and earrings in a style more typical of the north while the father and son had short hair and well-kept beards that looked to me more Amish than Albanian. They were friendly but quiet, lingering with us it seemed more out of respect than from an extroverted nature. I think they were studying us as much as we were studying them and our new surroundings. Eventually they asked us what time we would like breakfast and excused themselves for the evening.
Having arrived after dark with nary a street light, I woke up to this view:
Then, if you will, imagine the sound of a rushing mountain stream, livestock braying and the sounds of dozens of antique bells tinkling around necks.
Before our hosts arrived with breakfast, Arjan was ever the host himself, brewing up coffee for us all the Albanian way, in a xhezva (jez-vuh).
After a breakfast of fried eggs, rolls, butter, homemade jam, slices of thick cheese, and mountain tea (an herbal tea which has hints of sage and oregano), we loaded up the van to finish the trip to our ultimate destination: Valbona National Park.
Our journey happened to take us through the city of Bajram Curi (buy-rom tsur-ee), a planned city containing an out-of-place-in-our-rustic-surroundings collection of communist-era buildings named after an Albanian hero who fought the Serbs in what is now Kosovo. Below Mersin shows us the apartment where he grew up... Across the street the ground falls away to fields and a view of the mountains forming the border with Kosovo. He told us that during the war in Kosovo they could see the sky light up behind the mountains while the bombs fell.
We continued driving out of town, past his old school, the new school, and the sports "palace". Eventually we left the outskirts of town and entered a pass between two mountains, a road alongside a river into a canyon of sorts. We were entering Valbona National Park.
The original buildings of this region feature wood shingle rooftops, quite different from the typical ceramic red tiles further south.
Even the "model" on the anti-littering signs sported traditional costume!
There was something to photograph around practically every bend in the road.
Within the national park there were a few guesthouses and campsites, perfect for exploring the trails to village only accessible on foot.
It was a Sunday, the "busy" day of the week for parks like this, yet it was relatively quiet.
I think we visited at the best time of year! Warm enough to go without coats, yet early enough to see the beautiful mountain snow before it could melt!
I include a photo of this sign because this region was/is famous for having "accursed mountains." Now, I guess they are 'blessed.' :-)
Clear, COLD mountain water gushed through the canyon.
Below: mulliri i vjeter (the old mill)
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| on the footbridge to the old mill |
Of course, we stopped for coffee! I mean, why not with views like this??
O Valbona! We will be back!
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