So I figured as I recall the past I would also update on a semi-daily basis, based on when I can get Internet access. Now here goes the story of today and how I woke up in Kotor, Montenegro and ended up typing this in an internet cafe in Shkodër, Albania.
I had met two Germans traveling to Istanbul as well in Kotor and they are hitchhiking through the Balkans all the way to the grand city. I had always thought hitchhiking was a crazy idea, especially in a place where I don't know how to speak the language. It just seemed too dangerous. And all those lessons my parents taught me about being careful and not getting into avoidable danger situations rise to the top of my head and tell me it's a bad idea.
But I did it anyway. Sorry, mom.
Turns out, hitchhiking here in the Balkans is easier than most places. I had read this before as I did research for this trip but as aforementioned (I love that word) I had always thought the negatives outweighed the benefits. I figured why not try it out with two people who have experience at it and just go for an adventure.
We split up our trio because taking three people at a time doesn't work too well. I was with Katarina (Hops) (whose birthday it is today, I might add) and Moritz (Moe) went solo.
It took five car rides to reach Shkodër but after we were picked up in about five minutes from our starting point it seemed hopeful. Until the cops pulled us over approximately 20 seconds after getting into the first car. Now here is where is goes to shit, I thought. Well, after the driver got out of the car and talked with the officer, turns out nothing was wrong. He was just trying to give a warning about picking up strangers. Or something. The driver only spoke Serbian so it's not like we really understood what he meant.
Our next driver was of particular interest, considering he picked us up in Budva, told us he was going to take us to another city and then ended up leaving us on this big curve in the road and telling us (we think, no English/German/Spanish/French once more) this was our best chance of getting picked up. Ended up being in the same place as Mo, and so the three of us waited again. After about 30 minutes, Moe was off and we were up. What seemed hopeless turned around as some young guy pulled up.
After 20 minutes of nothing but techno music in his car and not a single word exchanged between us he dropped us off in the next city. Guess who was on that same curb? Moritz. Funny how that kept working out.
The next car was by far the most giving. It was a Russian man and his son. The older man knew some German from four years in school so although it was simple basic words we were able to communicate. Besides that, they had this cool tablet that translated spoken Russian into German (and I take it other languages) so we talked through a machine for a while. Now that is good technology.
They managed to get all three of us crammed into the backseat and took us within 25 kilometers of the Albanian border. Now the real fun began. Trying to flag down the not-so-often vehicles heading toward Albania.
Enter old man with his young wife (daughter, niece, who knows what) and some random guy in the back. He says he will take us to Shkodër for 10 Euros total. We hadn't paid a cent to this point so we were unsure but we figured it was the best decision because there was nobody coming to rescue us in the middle of the farmlands that we currently stood in.
We packed into the backseat and we met by another member of this automobile, a young guy from Albania and who knew a few phrases in English. That was helpful but lively is a far stretch. As we drive and Hops is sitting on one of my legs while the guy offers us wafers and cigarettes (I've smelt like cigarettes for this entire trip almost).
Well life is full of surprises. At the border we found out this old Albanian guy is actually a US citizen because his mother once lived in Canada and his bambino was also there and although he can't speak English he had that blue passport with an emblazoned eagle. Maybe he was born there and then grew up in Albania or something.
Another thing we noticed: no passport stamp. Like what's with that? Don't they know that is everyone's goal in life? To collect as many stamps as possible?
Either way now I am here in Albania after a long journey through some beautiful Montenegrin seaside landscapes and a multi-kilometer walk through some not-so-attractive Shkodër neighborhood. So how do I like it? It is wonderfully cheap. Literally a meal for three of us with drinks and a a coffee included cost six Euros. Like what? But our "hotel" is anything but classy. Imagine a hole where you squat as the toilet and vomit stains and an ashtray included with every room free of charge! But as six Euros a night who's complaining?
Like the corny Helen Keller poster outside my room in Miami reads: Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.
I had met two Germans traveling to Istanbul as well in Kotor and they are hitchhiking through the Balkans all the way to the grand city. I had always thought hitchhiking was a crazy idea, especially in a place where I don't know how to speak the language. It just seemed too dangerous. And all those lessons my parents taught me about being careful and not getting into avoidable danger situations rise to the top of my head and tell me it's a bad idea.
But I did it anyway. Sorry, mom.
Turns out, hitchhiking here in the Balkans is easier than most places. I had read this before as I did research for this trip but as aforementioned (I love that word) I had always thought the negatives outweighed the benefits. I figured why not try it out with two people who have experience at it and just go for an adventure.
We split up our trio because taking three people at a time doesn't work too well. I was with Katarina (Hops) (whose birthday it is today, I might add) and Moritz (Moe) went solo.
It took five car rides to reach Shkodër but after we were picked up in about five minutes from our starting point it seemed hopeful. Until the cops pulled us over approximately 20 seconds after getting into the first car. Now here is where is goes to shit, I thought. Well, after the driver got out of the car and talked with the officer, turns out nothing was wrong. He was just trying to give a warning about picking up strangers. Or something. The driver only spoke Serbian so it's not like we really understood what he meant.
Our next driver was of particular interest, considering he picked us up in Budva, told us he was going to take us to another city and then ended up leaving us on this big curve in the road and telling us (we think, no English/German/Spanish/French once more) this was our best chance of getting picked up. Ended up being in the same place as Mo, and so the three of us waited again. After about 30 minutes, Moe was off and we were up. What seemed hopeless turned around as some young guy pulled up.
After 20 minutes of nothing but techno music in his car and not a single word exchanged between us he dropped us off in the next city. Guess who was on that same curb? Moritz. Funny how that kept working out.
The next car was by far the most giving. It was a Russian man and his son. The older man knew some German from four years in school so although it was simple basic words we were able to communicate. Besides that, they had this cool tablet that translated spoken Russian into German (and I take it other languages) so we talked through a machine for a while. Now that is good technology.
They managed to get all three of us crammed into the backseat and took us within 25 kilometers of the Albanian border. Now the real fun began. Trying to flag down the not-so-often vehicles heading toward Albania.
Enter old man with his young wife (daughter, niece, who knows what) and some random guy in the back. He says he will take us to Shkodër for 10 Euros total. We hadn't paid a cent to this point so we were unsure but we figured it was the best decision because there was nobody coming to rescue us in the middle of the farmlands that we currently stood in.
We packed into the backseat and we met by another member of this automobile, a young guy from Albania and who knew a few phrases in English. That was helpful but lively is a far stretch. As we drive and Hops is sitting on one of my legs while the guy offers us wafers and cigarettes (I've smelt like cigarettes for this entire trip almost).
Well life is full of surprises. At the border we found out this old Albanian guy is actually a US citizen because his mother once lived in Canada and his bambino was also there and although he can't speak English he had that blue passport with an emblazoned eagle. Maybe he was born there and then grew up in Albania or something.
Another thing we noticed: no passport stamp. Like what's with that? Don't they know that is everyone's goal in life? To collect as many stamps as possible?
Either way now I am here in Albania after a long journey through some beautiful Montenegrin seaside landscapes and a multi-kilometer walk through some not-so-attractive Shkodër neighborhood. So how do I like it? It is wonderfully cheap. Literally a meal for three of us with drinks and a a coffee included cost six Euros. Like what? But our "hotel" is anything but classy. Imagine a hole where you squat as the toilet and vomit stains and an ashtray included with every room free of charge! But as six Euros a night who's complaining?
Like the corny Helen Keller poster outside my room in Miami reads: Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.
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