Boomboomboom. Here it comes. The biggest surprise so far. Tirana with a capital T. Never imagined that Albania, a country that has topped Europe's lowest GDP surveys constantly, would be one of the must-return places of the trip.
We got in Tirana in early morning, after a bumpy, sweaty, overnight bus journey through the rocky landscapes of southwestern Balkans. Once again, the border crossing took an hour of idling; stamping passports seem to be a real brainteaser for the border guards. 6 am we reached our hostel, Freddy's, with huge IKEA bags in the eyes. We were received by this well-humored short Albanian in his fifties, & we had a hilarious conversation regarding our reservation in Gerlishano, a mixture of German, English & Italiano (several Balkan countries including Albania have been under Italian & German ruling, so the heritage lingers on in form of a new language). It's gonna be the 21st century Latin, I'm telling you. Anyway, even if we had booked Freddy's only for the upcoming night, we were already grated the key to our three-bed dorm, and had a well-deserved dream-filled REM sleep.
Before going any further, here's a back cover intro to Albania & Tirana. The three-and-half-million Albanian country has had a tumultuous, topsy-turvy history full of bloody clashes. A little longer ago it was against the Ottoman's & more recently against the Serbs. The red line is always the same. Fight fight fight. Get conquered. Fight fight fight. Gain independence. After a few years of self-reign, fight fight fight. Get conquered. Fight fight fight. And so it goes, basically, for a whole century. This proves one thing: Albanians are a tenacious crowd, proud of what they are & make their own way. This is how they feel about international military coalitions.
The three-quarters-of-a-million capital Tirana is one appealing sight. This colorful, lively city has a few set of faces. Perhaps it's the one capital in the Balkan's where you can notice most visibly the barriere between haves, & have-nots. Skyscraper-like investment bank buildings mix with rigged rugged semi-detached houses. Trendy bar-and-cafe-minded Blloku-district buzzes with the well-dressed nouvelle bourgeoisie hanging out in bars or zipping between boutiques. Where their money comes from is a different story. But hey, no-one's perfect. The grand central avenues have alluring relics of its Ottoman, Italian & communistic past, always guarded by bored-looking chain-smoking guards with fast-looking AK's. And remember: the easiest way to get killed in Europe is to cross a road in Tirana. No need for that hangman's noose, these need-for-speed maniacs can't drive shit. It's always a plus if you can wine & dine for a few coins; Tirana is no exception. However, the 136 leke rate for a euro might come costly weather you enter a newly opened trend-hip-melange bar of Blloku area. There's everything for everyone. Tirana is daring & dirty; the jackpot backwater.
Freddy's hostel (Bardhok Biba) was once again a win-win choice. The manager, Alfred Salku, is one well-humored, big-hearted guy. The whole hostel reflects the all-smiles man; really no complaints whatsoever concerning the place. 12 euros for a three-bed dorm, laundry service, wifi; the guy even offered us breakfast even if it isn't normally included for dorm-bunkers. “To my best visitors, always breakfast!”. Ever go to Tirana to cross a road, we strongly recommend this place as your last stay.
Before heading out to the action-packed streets of Tirana, we decided to have a local bite. Exited Freddy's, turned just around the corner & found this local joint. On one table there was a band of retired grey/no-haired men dashing cards with an entourage of beers & whiskey, & on the other one a middle-aged guy who was alone in a corner-table smoking & watching a cartoon from TV. This had to be a good place. There was no menu, so once again we had to explain to the manager in our by now fluent Gerlishano, we wanted some local meat-filled dish. He got it, and one of us made the mistake to say “grösse für mich, big man!”. Now all the farts were laughing their asses off, and we thought it was all about the joke. Well, didn't take long until they arrived with my steak, which was pretty good especially accompanied with local Tirana beer. Now to the other guy's surprise, he got a bean soup with one little pathetic-looking meat peace. So “grösse” ended up meaning bean soup in Albanian. Yummy yummy. Just like in Albania if you nod, it means no & if you shake your head it means yes. Pretty chaotic at first, I can tell you.
So we met a guy. All good stories start with meeting a guy; it's never a girl. He was from Chicago, born-and-raised (as he righteously stated), 33-year-old teacher bunking in our dorm. He's one of those latter-generation guys you just click with instantly. After a day strolling around Tirana, we got together for a beer at Blloku. Shared great stories with varying topics around global politics, religion, jew history & short skirts. Really intriguing stuff..the bar wasn't bad either. Hailed as one of Tirana's coolest bars, Radio, on Ismael Qemail 27, met all expectations. The joint was coveted in old radion station logos, Guernica paintings & typewriters. It was the perfect place to chill & chat, beer at 300 leke.
From there we headed to the real contender of Tirana nightlife, Folie. Free entry, although beer at a salty 400 leke. The place was jam-packed with Albanian crowd, and our foreign faces attracted much-pleased gazes from Albanian girls & a few V-neck guys. We ended up partying with this group of twenty-something girls, and one of them even turned out to be queen bee, Miss Albania. The DJ was even kind enough to play some requested epic anthems in between the mainstream music.
Even met this guy called Leonardo from “Iiiiitalyyy” who was studying in Tirana because after three failed attempts into Roma med-school, was feeling “a bit not-smiles”. So we asked how's Tirana working for him: “Albanian women..they do not...give the pussy” With that Fabio-accent, he just sounded devastated. We too had to face cold facts: we had an all-male-threesome in our dorm. No pics. So it goes.
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