Cake Walk

The accommodations here in Vlora are about 2 miles away from the orphanage. Our immediate responsibility in seeing Ellie is to traverse concrete, gravel, and neighborhood alleys with steep inclines where rainwater and truck traffic have cut grooves into hillsides dotted with olive groves and orange trees. Much of the walk is on concrete where paws and shoes from previous walkers have left their imprint in wet cement.

It’s a great walk shouldered on one side by seawater lapping on soft brown sand and on the other, palm trees and high rises the same color as Miami. But the most distinguishing characteristic apart from buildings and seaside are the people we meet daily in our walk. Enough time spent on our morning and afternoon commutes give Cydil and I the opportunity to see the same people up to four times daily. Students, beach bums, and grandmas babysitting give us eye-to-eye contact. This contact lets us know their compassion, their routine, and their endeavor to get through the daily struggle of life in Albania. Our sidewalk borders a road where brand new BMWs follow tin-can Mercedes and 1957 school buses loaded with children follow modern Italian cement mixers laden for commerce.

A hillside shortcut is where the real fun begins. We walk on back roads by family courtyards in neighborhoods where turkeys destined for a New Year’s meal rub feathers on sleeping guard dogs. Mothers with fresh milk stop and chat at a neighbor’s gate while we hike by, our backpacks brimming with Ellie’s supplies for the day. We’re drawn to these folks whose neighborhoods we traverse, to greet these residents, smile, and offer them cheer in a language they can’t comprehend. It takes about 35 minutes travel time, but we reach the orphanage eventually and rest our weary legs before greeting 3 flights of stairs up to Ellie’s room.

With expectant steps we walk down the hallway to look through the door and see Ellie sitting in her crib waiting for MOM. --gpv