Part IV

Sarande, Albania

What little we saw of this non-EU country was a study in contrasts. On the one hand, unbridled real estate speculation in the late 1990s and early 2000s has resulted in an urban jungle of derelict high rises that had started out with the potential to become luxury hotels and resorts. Now, one in 4 buildings is occupied, although this is still a resort town and very much on the tourist path for cruise ships from Croatia, the Netherlands, and elsewhere. The streets were crowded with tourists, locals, and beggars on every street corner, often haggard women with young children, with a Romany look. But whoever we met greeted us with warmth and kindness, even though here there are far fewer who speak English with any ease. In the evening, the muzzerein called from a nearby minaret; competing with the local bumper cars blaring pop music. No one among the crowds was seen to stop at the call to worship; the chief business of the harborside was vacationing and all accompanying activities.

View of Sarande from the Hotel Palma cafe.

On the other hand, venture just a few miles out of the city into a timeless, beautiful country. We had the opportunity to hire a car and driver twice. The first day, our host and his wife, and Hunt and I, were driven to the ruins of Butrint. There can be found well-preserved evidence of Roman, Byzantine and Venetian occupation. The area was clean, well marked, and very lovely. The ride to and from Butrint took us through beautiful farmland with distant hills.

Roman wall with ancient tree root.

It’s so easy to generalize and stereotype, but we found that wherever we traveled, people were eager to be kind, to take the time to get to know us, and we wished for more time to get to know them. It is a truth that should be universally acknowledged that we are all more alike than different.

Our two crew members had rented a car to go adventuring into the mountains. They found themselves on washed-out roads and had to spend a night far from Saranda, where they were taken in by locals who had never been visited by Americans before. This adventure caused a day’s delay, so we had another day in Sarande. So Hunt and I got another car and driver, who took us east this time, to the Blue Eye Springs, so-called because the combination of water chemistry and the nature of the soil, rocks, etc. causes the pools of water to appear in ranges of vivid turquoise, resembling blue eyes. The Blue Eye was stunning in and of itself, but the drive there and back showed even more glorious countryside. First, past towns and villages (one had a cow walking down the main street!). Then past farmland, and one section that had a hodgepodge of tents, trailers and tarps, with barefoot children, dogs and chickens lurking about. Our guide spoke very little English, so I wracked my brain for the question I had. It came: “Tsigane? Roma? Gypsies?” “Yes!” asserted our guide. “I like that they are here.” A refreshing attitude! Up into the hills, past shrines, campsites, farms, and sheep and shepherds, to the Blue Eye.

Blue Eye, near Muzinë in Vlorë County, Albania.

Hunt and I had been sleeping poorly, so our stay in Sarande was also a chance for a few nights in the hotel right next to the dock. The Hotel Palma is a “luxury hotel” with a broken VISA machine but otherwise comfortable beds, hot showers and a cozy café, where we had many a cup of kaffe and the best marmalade I have ever had. And a warm  and friendly waitress named Luli, who would be a friend if we could have a chance to spend time together. She had virtually no English, so we communicated through a Google translate app on my phone!

Luli (R) and me.

Amazingly, heavenly jam and marmalade.

Finally, the lads returned, muddy and exhausted from their adventures in the mountains. One last dinner out as a family, then a morning’s departure for the first leg of our long voyage to Italy. At first the wind was almost becalmed, then it picked up and gave us a wild ride, gusting to 35 knots at times. We came in and anchored in the harbor of Ereikoussa, one of the last of the Greek Ionian islands. The harbor was much calmer, so we rested and had a light supper and a nap before making our night passage to the heel of the boot.

Soaked from the waves, but triumphant.

Saying a sad goodbye to Greece.