Albanian Adventures: Day 1 and 2
Our first day started with a minor hiccup. I had gotten up, packed, and was almost ready to leave when I decided to give the van a quick clean. A “slight” spring clean soon escalated into cleaning the roof, complete with ladder and other paraphernalia. I was so engrossed that I didn’t notice the time—until Dave arrived bang on schedule to find me perched on the ladder, pressure washer in hand, nowhere near ready to depart. A hasty tidy-up meant we were only a few minutes late.
I had booked a twenty-kilo bag, a ten-kilo carry-on, and the allowed small personal item. Dave managed without his ten-kilo bag, while I ended up stashing some of my things in his suitcase to stay within limits. Note to self: pack less next time.
Silver Parking accepted the van without complaint. This time I remembered both the code for where I parked and to photograph the receipt for our return. Note to self: figure out how to store that photo in the relevant place.
Check-in went smoothly, except for a moment of confusion with the luggage labels—apparently, all I needed to do was align two red dots. Security was quick, and soon we were enjoying chicken salad and coffee at Briggs & Something. Our flight was on time, and as we had requested the front row, we boarded quickly. Bergamo airport greeted us with bright sunlight. The queue for UK passports was segregated from local passports, leaving us at the back. My passport had a small crease that prevented the scanner from reading it properly—something I’ll need to fix, perhaps with an iron.
Both our suitcases were first on the carousel, though Dave struggled with a trolley, not realizing a coin was required. Note to self: bring a couple of 2-euro coins next time.
We retired to the arrivals lounge for excellent coffee before being ushered out to a pre-arrivals lounge, where we waited for our connecting flight. The scene resembled a small refugee camp, with people sprawled everywhere. One young man had even brought a blow-up mattress and made himself perfectly at home. Japanese-style pods were available for €70 each, but we opted for the traditional experience.
After a four-hour closure, the departure lounge reopened. We queued for security, only to realize we were the only passengers with trolleys and massive suitcases—we hadn’t checked in! Dave and I scrambled back, apologizing profusely in every language we could muster. Lesson learned: always check in first.
Finally on our way to Albania, we landed in bright sunshine. Customs and baggage collection went smoothly, and we were soon whisked to our hotel in Qemal Stafa by taxi, just after 8:00 am. Our room wasn’t ready, but we were invited to breakfast and allowed to leave our suitcases safely behind reception.
Our first task was to collect the bikes. A short walk from the hotel brought us to the rental shop. On the way, I pointed out some of Tirana’s amazing murals, including one featuring a bookcase and fireplace. Opposite was a large building site I had nicknamed “Lefter’s Hole” for years, still under construction. The site borders Skënderbej Square, the Albanian Bank (similar to the Bank of England), a museum with the iconic mosaic of a gun-toting woman, and the massive Tirana International Hotel. Adjacent to these landmarks is a controversial new building, which, when photographed, reveals a man’s head and shoulders—some locals think it’s Prime Minister Edi Rama, though I see it as Skënderberg, Albania’s national hero. A point of discussion for sure.
Our evening took us to Rruga Kavaja, to a restaurant I had first visited on its opening day in August. The ambiance was incredible—filled with model cars, advertising signs, children’s toys, and other quirky ephemera. Fortunately, we walked straight in and enjoyed excellent lamb and a beer. Afterwards, I guided Dave to try Parfait, a traditional Albanian dessert, at the London Inn on Bulevardi Zogu. After a brief detour with a taxi driver who hadn’t heard of the place, we found it and settled in with our treats.
Bikes, Rain, and Raki
The bikes had been collected the night before, with Sat Navs and GoPros installed. Note to self: ensure Sat Navs have matching maps and settings. Our first stop was Meri’s Garage to inflate my bike’s tyres and address a dashboard warning light—a pit-stop worthy of Formula One. Within minutes, the tyres were inflated, the chain oiled, and we were ready to ride.
We followed familiar roads out of Tirana, climbing into the surrounding mountains. The road was excellent, but as we ascended, the rain began. I attempted a new route toward the northeast of Burrell, but the cold and heavy rain forced us to retreat and take the known June route. Dave experienced his first slips on a steep, greasy incline, but thankfully, no serious incidents occurred. Coffee stops became necessary, as the rain and cold had soaked me despite multiple layers.
The BMW 800 handled brilliantly, aside from a rear brake lever that was slightly awkward for my height. Once we reached dry roads toward Lezhe, the scenery and roads became rewarding. Along the way, I realised I should track fuel stops and mileage for future trips.
We arrived at Tringa Guest House, a warm welcome after the cold and wet ride. Zef and Adriana, the elderly couple who run the place, were efficient and kind, communicating with Google Translate. Seeing the recognition on Zef’s face as I removed my helmet made the day’s discomforts vanish. I indulged in a hot shower, warm clothes, and dry socks. Zef offered a bottle of local Raki, and I introduced Dave to this traditional spirit. One glass became two… after that, the memory is a blur. Somehow we made the 15-minute walk to dinner.
Dinner was at Miriza Zanophy, a former communist re-education camp now transformed into a symbol of Albanian agrotourism. They serve seasonal dishes, with excellent wine, and a genuinely warm, authentic Albanian experience. The night was punctuated by gale-force winds, but we slept well in our cozy beds.
Mountains, Snow, and Tamare
The following morning greeted us with near-360-degree mountain views. Breakfast was leisurely, with a family from Israel sharing the room. I explained to Dave the Albania of the past, using Zef as a conduit for stories of pre-democracy hardships. Zef’s eyes welled up as he recounted family experiences under communism, a moment of quiet reflection.
We set off for Koplik, then turned onto roads I’d never ridden, climbing to nearly 1,000 metres with breathtaking vistas. Hairpins and switchbacks demanded careful riding, brakes deliberately cooled, and the scenery left us speechless. We descended into the village of Tamarë, famous for its mountain spring water. A coffee stop provided a moment to dry off and gather energy. Ordering coffee in Albanian remains a challenge—my attempts drew polite smiles—but the cafés here are always eager to accommodate.
We continued up the mountains in search of lodgings, guided by a local’s enthusiastic recommendation. Soon, snow began to settle around us. We found a delightful family-run lodge, complete with wood-burning stoves, indoor bathrooms, and ample warmth. Dave took the double bed, I took the single, and electricity and hot showers restored our spirits.
Dinner was freshly prepared by the lodge owners, assisted by their English-speaking son. Across the road, we met a couple travelling in the opposite direction on a BMW 1250, panniers and top boxes fully loaded, heading toward Croatia. The night passed peacefully, snow still on the surrounding peaks, a fitting end to our adventurous first two days in Albania.
Comments
Post a Comment