Balkan Odyssey
MonteNegro
With the RometoRio app, I'd discovered a really neat route down to Thessaloniki in Greece via Kotor, Montenegro; to Skopje, capital of North Macedonia and then a train ride to Greece.
A really cool German guy called Davide, originally from Munich, but now living in Leipzig accompanied me for the journey. Davide speaks 5 languages fluently: German, Polish from his mum, Spanish, as he did Erasmus in Barcelona, and excellent English. He's a DJ, musician in a rock band, and edits Podcasts on his travels.
Kotor was just a two-hour bus ride from Dubrovnik, a quarter of which was spent leaving Croatian customs, and entering Monte Negro, with quite the friendliest border guard we had encountered yet.
On the bus I made friends with an English guy called Aaron, from Canterbury, a city I know and love well from my second degree at ChristChurch university. A word about the bus: it's raining, the mountains roads are steep and winding, and yet the bus driver drives with one hand, and holds his phone in the other, chatting.
We got off in the bus station, and walked the short journey to the old walled town, the Adriatic sea lapping at its ancient walls.
After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1989, the former Yugoslavian states broke into 5 new countries: Slovenia to the North, Serbia, Montenegro, Croatia hugging the Balkan coastline, Bosnia and Herzegovina. In 1992-1994 (Catholic) Croatia and Serbia want to war. Sadly the warlord, Slobodan Milosevich was not content with ethnic Muslims in Soviet controlled Serbia and ethnic cleansing of Muslims began. The new state of Kosovo was formed, and ethnic Muslims moved there. The war was bloody and over 100,000 died. Most families in Croatia and Serbia were affected, and PTSD is common in those who fought.
Macedonia is a divided country: Northern Macedonia is a separate country, whilst the rest
Macedonia is still fighting for its Independence from Greece. Like Kashmir or Northern Ireland, the Imperialists are not keen to give up these regions.
None of the Balkan states except Slovenia are yet members of the EU, but are next in-line, for the reconstruction funds which will flow into the area when they do join. Monténégro (Black Mountain) uses the Euro.
We checked into Old Town hostel, where beer pong was in full flow. We cooked a dinner of pasta with two Canadian girls. I slept really well in my small curtained bunk.
The next morning I climbed the mountain, and the City's Venetian built embattlements. 
I ate a delicious Vegan lunch at Teraca restaurant where you can watch the fish in the river below. I went for a walk around the Fjord like harbour. That night the beer pong crowd excelled themselves, and came crashing in at 3 am, waking in anyone trying to sleep, aka me. It was the full moon also.
I ate a delicious Vegan lunch at Teraca restaurant where you can watch the fish in the river below. I went for a walk around the Fjord like harbour. That night the beer pong crowd excelled themselves, and came crashing in at 3 am, waking in anyone trying to sleep, aka me. It was the full moon also.
Next morning I got up at nine and after a delicious Vegan breakfast of scrambled tofu, flavoured with cumin with Davide at Teraca restaurant, said our goodbyes, I sped off in a minibus to Budva, he went via beautiful National park, onto Bar, to catch the overnight train to Belgrade.
The hostel in Old Town Budvar was the cutest yet. I spent a lovely afternoon on Mongren beach, and even treated myself to beer at sunset.
I walked around pretty Old Town, and went to clean, modern, almost trendy supermarket, Voli for supplies. So I have hostel cooking down to a pat now. I bought aubergine & courgette (zucchini) at Voli supermarket.
Then I had the pleasure of watching a live band at Kuca bar attached to the hostel, before sharing a quiet room with my new roommate, Sophie from Austria, and a Taiwanese lady, who has been hiking all over Europe, some of her stories were hilarious, like being turned back from Norwegian border for not having a European Covid passport. She tried to argue with the border guard, asking how w Taiwanese passport holder could ever a get a European Covid passport, but did not get to see beautiful Norway.
On my second day in Budva, and last day in Montenegro, I set off from my hostel in the Old Town for the 9km hike to Sveti Stefani. I set off past the fishing boats outside the cute Old stone town. Budva is undergoing what can only be described as a building epidemic. There are new hotels going up everywhere. I walked past & photographed an Old Soviet hotel, which with some love could be wonderful again. The pretty fishing village of Miločer, has been taken over by a very ugly, empty and inappropriate Hotel & Casino complex. After 7km or so you reach the smaller Queen's beach, where the palace was a Spa before the Pandemic. I ate my packed lunch on the larger, empty King's beach before the rain which had been threatening started to come down. Sveti Stefani is an island of 50 cute fisherman's & artisan's cottages which were rented to the rich and famous until the pandemic. I walked halfway back, and got the bus the rest of the way back to the Old town. I was accosted at the bus stop by a drunk Serbian, who was convinced I was Russian.
Back at the hostel, the manager, Miloš, tried to book their sister hostel , the Wanderer in Shkoder , but it had been closed due a Covid outbreak. Really that should have been my warning not to visit Albania.
Albania
Thing is, if you get ripped off at the bank, it costs more, leaves a bad feeling and that is what happened to me entering Shkoder, Albania. The taxis in the Balkans are a rip off, and it cost me €10 to get the short-hop from the Old town to the bus station, for the tattiest bus I have seen in a long time, to Tirana. It went through capital of Montenegro, Podgorica, which looked poorly laid out and totally forgettable. We left Montenegro, an American on bus taking a photo of the border guard (!!), and getting told off. We could see Lake Shkoder on our right complete with hunting towers. I wonder what animals lurk there. I have seen maps with bear marked on them. We arrived in Shkodor by lunchtime. I was expecting a Swiss or Montenegran mountain resort by the lake. Shkoder is polluted, chaotic, with huge, ugly new hotels towering over the town. I looked for a banks, and found German Raffaisen bank under Hotel Rozafa. It cost 800Lek (about 8 Euro) to get 5000 Lek out, so I walked away and went to Fibank, where my card was useless, so I had to take the Raffaisen fee. I tried to go into the bank to change the 5000 Lek note, but miraculously the bank was not allowed to change money except for customers. The Security guard tried to manhandle me and rucksack out , so they got a complaint on Twitter. I tried to ring the Hostel I booked to get direction as a Vodafone were now charging data at £6 per day, but got cut off, my data limit having been breached. Luckily I am quite good on directions, and walked away from the centre and eventually found a sign to my hostel of second choice. They had not received my booking via Hostel world, and then the lovely Lady tried to rip me off on the cost of the room. I can honestly say I am not enjoying Albania. There are beggars outside the central mosque, the roads and pavements are full of holes, it's not cheap, and its very polluted, especially by high range German cars everywhere. Many of the ladies have Botox in their lips. The rubbish bins stink. That which makes it into bins. There is litter everywhere, and I even picked up plastic bags and bottles myself to improve the appearance of the place. The Tourist information was closed, so luckily one of the hostels told me the times of buses to Tirana. I can't believe I have to spend another night here, just to get out.
I'm trying to see past the begging, the fly-tipping, the broken pavements, the unfinished buildings, the scams, but not feeling or seeing it.
Next day I wake early, drink 2 cups of Nescafe in my room, and collect up my still damp washing and head to Central square for the midday bus to the Capital Tirana. When they say two hours in the Balkans this can mean 3-4 hours, but in this instance we arrive in dusty, rubble strewn bus station out side Tirana at 2pm. On the bus there was a full on argument with one baby crying, an auntie asking the driver to stop the bus to let the kid pee, and the driver got up and a few "che catzo" were thrown (an Italian insult, look it up!) I can tell it's not going 15 mins that Google claims walk to the hostel, so I get in a yellow taxi and tell him I have €10. Surprisingly the gets me through the heavy Tirana traffic to the hostel for this. The hostel is an oasis. Someone is practising Bob Marley songs on guitar. The lovely Monica at reception tells me about crazy Communist dictator Enver Hoxha, who ruled Albania for 40 years from 1945-85 and for whatever reason built huge underground bunkers under the City to protect the people from whatever threat the paranoid dictator perceived. I set off from the main square on the bus for 40 Lire. I soon reached the dusty bus station again. I tried to show people on the bus picture of Bunker'Art where I wanted to go, so they sent me back on the same bus in the opposite direction. The buses are ancient recycled buses from Netherlands complete with original signs in Dutch. 
As I was re-entering the City centre, a German traveller called Michael, tried to board with his bicycle complete with puncture from the awful Albanian roads. At first the bus conductor tried to shoo him off, but when he saw that we knew one another he let Michael board. I never did get to see Bunker'Art, as we were soon back in central Tirana. I pointed Michael in the direction of the hostel, and instead set out to walk to the central park, and artificial lake. I can honestly say Tirana is one of the ugliest cities I have ever had the bad luck of visiting, and that includes Quito, Ecuador. I returned to the hostel, to be surprised by my lovely Austrian room mate Sophie from Budva, checking in. I hung out with the German speaking crew. That night my friend Daniel, also from Austria messaged me to say he also was in Tirana. Daniel is travelling for one year on his dad's 1950's Puck moped. We arranged to go for early Kaffee u Kuchen at one of the posh cafes on Skanderbeg square. I slept really well, and rose at 7 am to play with kittens and drink coffee. The staff served us a breakfast of Turkish coffee, bread, tomatoes and cucumber. Yum. I chatted with Tomo from Netherlands, a biker travelling from Greece back to the Netherlands. Daniel arrived at my hostel, very disturbed. He had had his "The Beach" hostel moment, a drunk & paranoid Dutch guy in his dorm had kept them awake most of night, accusing people of stealing his wallet, insisting the lights be kept on, going crazy when there was a power cut. Daniel is a lovely, sweet guy from the mountains. I met him in Dubrovnik, as we are travelling the same route down through Greece, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan and India. He then intends to take perhaps a route through Sikkim or Nepal, Burma , Thailand, or take a more northerly route through Kyrgistan, Kazakhstan, Mongolia, China and Japan, if funds and time allows. You can follow him on Instagram @wugge.travels
As I was re-entering the City centre, a German traveller called Michael, tried to board with his bicycle complete with puncture from the awful Albanian roads. At first the bus conductor tried to shoo him off, but when he saw that we knew one another he let Michael board. I never did get to see Bunker'Art, as we were soon back in central Tirana. I pointed Michael in the direction of the hostel, and instead set out to walk to the central park, and artificial lake. I can honestly say Tirana is one of the ugliest cities I have ever had the bad luck of visiting, and that includes Quito, Ecuador. I returned to the hostel, to be surprised by my lovely Austrian room mate Sophie from Budva, checking in. I hung out with the German speaking crew. That night my friend Daniel, also from Austria messaged me to say he also was in Tirana. Daniel is travelling for one year on his dad's 1950's Puck moped. We arranged to go for early Kaffee u Kuchen at one of the posh cafes on Skanderbeg square. I slept really well, and rose at 7 am to play with kittens and drink coffee. The staff served us a breakfast of Turkish coffee, bread, tomatoes and cucumber. Yum. I chatted with Tomo from Netherlands, a biker travelling from Greece back to the Netherlands. Daniel arrived at my hostel, very disturbed. He had had his "The Beach" hostel moment, a drunk & paranoid Dutch guy in his dorm had kept them awake most of night, accusing people of stealing his wallet, insisting the lights be kept on, going crazy when there was a power cut. Daniel is a lovely, sweet guy from the mountains. I met him in Dubrovnik, as we are travelling the same route down through Greece, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan and India. He then intends to take perhaps a route through Sikkim or Nepal, Burma , Thailand, or take a more northerly route through Kyrgistan, Kazakhstan, Mongolia, China and Japan, if funds and time allows. You can follow him on Instagram @wugge.travels
I said my goodbyes and left for the International bus station at the Tirana Ring center where I had less than an hour to wait for a minibus to Lake Ohrid in Northern Macedonia.
North Macedonia
Shortly into our journey the door alarm on the old Mercedes bus started to go off, for which it received not an MOT but a good kicking. We crossed the border without a hitch. Macedonia looked lovely with the mountains covered in glorious red and yellow trees. The air at Lake Ohrid was pure and clear.
I slept like a baby, and woke only at ten the next morning. After chatting with Christine from Singapore about her travel experiences, and lockdown in Singapore, she made me Pendang on toast, a kind of sweet Asian syrup made from coconut, I set off to walk the shore of Lake Ohrid. I had a lovely walk, and came back to our lovely Swiss family Robinson chalet and swung in a hammock. My German room mate, Julian had foraged nettles, so we made nettle soup, and watched Netflix with the lovely family. They had an old lab, who barked whenever she heard or smelt the wild boar on the hillside. I was sad to leave next morning. I caught the local bus back up to Ohrid centre, waited in the sun outside the bus station for a couple of hours until the 12:20 bus to Bitola , an industrial town on the Greek border. I was grateful to a couple of farmers for a lift right to the border, and after just two days said my goodbyes to Macedonia. I do hope to return someday.
Greece
It is a long time since I've crossed a border on foot, perhaps Cambodia-Laos, but this is what I do with my 20kg backpack, and soon reach the Greek side. I'd heard that Greek Covid restrictions were tough, but the ladies are lovely. I login to their Wifi, and complete my Greek Passenger locator form (PLF), and get a QR code, which I can now show to the border police. She also takes a swab from my nose. About twenty minutes later I get an SMS, (in Greek) saying my test is negative. I walk the short distance to the village of Niki, looking for an ATM. A couple of local dogs chase behind me, nipping at my ankles. Its only 14km to Florina, and I sit in the middle of a roundabout for about an hour trying to flag a ride a down. I give up my first attempt at hitch hiking and walk into to local garage, where the kind boss, calls his taxi driver pal, Costas to take me to Florina. We chat about how many Greek islands we have visited. He's very impressed that I have visited ten islands, as he has visited eleven or so. Costas is a cheery grandfather of 5, and whizzes me down to Florina, in time for the 18:30 bus to Thessaloniki. At sunset we set off on this last mini Odyssey across the Greek mainland. The driver crosses himself at every church we pass. We arrive at Domed bus station after 9, and I get a taxi down town to my fab new hostel, in a beautifully renovated old Greek building, run by a pair of Berliners called Gul & Neil. I pop around the corner for a delicious falafel wrap & a beer, at Syrian run café called Rose of Damascus. The waiter is a Palestinian refugee, and I show him pictures of our Free Palestine protest march this summer. I sleep like a baby in the high, pod-like bunks. Next morning I chat with Gul about communism and the problems of our modern society. She too has a teenage daughter. I set off on a walking tour of Thessaloniki. I visit the White tower , and learn about Thessaloniki's Roman past. It was at the crossroads of the Crusades. In the Middle ages the City was divided into Greek, Jewish and Muslim areas . The city fell to the Ottoman empire. The Greeks rose up against Turkish rule, but were brutally beaten down. In 1917 the City was destroyed by a horrendous fire, but was redesigned and rebuilt by French town architect Ernest Hebrard. On October 24th it is a National holiday, and I spent a pleasant morning sketching the Rotunda, which lay at the end of the Roman forum, whilst the Greek airforce shows off its air defences: supersonic jets looping over the huge bay, and chinook helicopters, so loud they set off car alarms and set the children crying on the ground. I spend the afternoon admiring the lovely seafront apartments and bars, deciding which one I'd prefer to live in. I spend another afternoon exploring the ramparts which protected the City from the Saracens in 904, and the Normans in 1104. I bump into Tim & his girlfriend, an actress called Hannah from Hamburg who are also travelling via Turkey to India & Bali, Indonesia. They are flying over Pakistan. I spend another afternoon exploring the Archeological museum & Thessaloniki ancient & impressive Roman forum with my friend Daniel who is riding to China & Mongolia on a 1950s Puck moped.
And so my time in the Balkans, Thessaloniki, Greece and Europe is up and tonight I am getting the overnight bus to Istanbul and a new adventure in Asia. Only 3 countries to go to India.
Follow me on Instagram: @mazza_66
Comments
Post a Comment