Wild, Wild West

One of the most interesting things about my experience thus far in Albania has been learning first-hand about the perception abroad of America and Americans. In Albania, the perception is overwhelmingly positive, but not always realistic. When I tell people that I am from America, the most common response is somewhere along the lines of "Ohhh, American?! Very good. Things are good in America, aren't they?"

When I am asked this question, I try to answer it honestly and take moment to think of the America that I know. I see tidy middle class neighborhoods, abundant stores and restaurants, nice schools, football games, barbecues, parks, happy babies, and the like. "Yes they are," I say.

It is around that time that you can see the glimmer in their eyes. I like to imagine what it is that they are picturing at that moment. My guess is that they see me in the America that they have come to know through movies and TV... floating in a pool behind my beachfront house, a glass of fine scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other. When I finish my cigar, I let a light breeze blow me over to the side of the pool where my tuxedo-clad man-servant Reginald awaits with a new cigar and a light. The light, of course, comes in the form of a burning $20 dollar bill, the likes of which occasionally clutter up our finely manicured yard when a breeze passes through the french doors of my bedroom and stirs up the giant pile of cash that serves as my mattress.

"Yes," they reply, "things are very good there. Not in Albania, though. There is no work here."

There is no work in Albania. If you spend any amount of time talking to an Albanian, you can almost be assured that they will bring the subject up-- especially if you come from a developed western country. It can be very frustrating at times; there is no question that things aren't perfect here, but as an outsider it is all too easy to try to make a quick diagnosis based on what you see on the surface.

If only people would put more effort into their work. If only the business community would try to diversify the markets. If only the education systems were better. If only, if only, if only. The reality is that the roots of the situation-- both the good and bad aspects of it-- are complexly interwoven through their history and their culture and there are no quick fixes.

As such, I have found that patience is perhaps the most valuable skill that I can bring to work every day. On the bright side, many Albanians are putting forth genuine effort to improve their country and progress is being made. I have been told by many people (Albanians and non-Albanians alike) that I would hardly recognize the Albania that existed even five years ago. Infrastructure, in particular-- the roads, water systems, and power grid-- are light years beyond what they were half-way through the last decade.

This infrastructure will provide a valuable foundation for development, but the work cannot stop there. In efforts to improve the economy, one of the primary fields that Albania's leaders are promoting is tourism. They are surrounded by two of the world's tourism giants in Greece and Italy, and the upcoming star of Croatia is within shouting distance to the north. They see all the money that tourists pour into those countries every year and, understandably, want to get a piece of the pie as well.

Albania has the makings of a great tourism destination-- beautiful beaches, mountains, interesting cities, a very convenient location, and a long and colorful history. Now they just need to find a way to package these resources and sell them to the world's travelers.

There are some hurdles that must be overcome before the country is able to truly compete in this market. The infrastructure, improved though it is, still needs work. The omnipresent trash needs to be cleaned up. And, most importantly in my mind, they need to improve the ease with which tourists can find information about this country.

Unless they are an American, a tourist is usually not an overly demanding subject. (I say this with love! But really, we don't have the best reputation abroad.) They just need to know where to go (maps), how to get there (transportation information), where they will sleep (hotel directories), and what to do once they are there (tourism guides). These all exist in some form in Albania, but the quality and accessibility of most of this information leaves much to be desired.

Pogradec, for example, is known primarily for its beachfront along Lake Ohrid. Beautiful though this is, it is not the only thing that the city can offer visitors. In the region surrounding the city you can find historical churches, monasteries, quaint villages, and old stone bridges alongside a wide variety of natural attractions. The tourism guide for the city tells you that these places exist and encourages you to see them, but they forget to mention how you are supposed to find them.

One of things that I would like to help accomplish while I am here is the collection and publication of this information. A simple, "This is the village of something-something. You can hike there using such-and-such route, drive there on this-or-that road, or catch a furgon at the station by that one place. The journey will take so many hours by foot or so many hour by car; etc." could be all the difference between a visitor leaving after one day at the beach or deciding to stay an extra day to visit some of these nearby attractions. It is relatively basic information, but it isn't information that you can expect someone to go out of their way to find while they are on vacation.

One of the perks of becoming involved with a project of this sort is that it calls for research of the most entertaining variety. You can't very well tell people how to go to a place that you've never been to, can you? Last weekend, I decided to commence this research with a hike to the village of Potkozhan- known for its stone houses, narrow cobblestone streets, and a small medieval church. It is located in an area known as the Mokër Highlands- a rural region tucked away into the mountains west of Pogradec. If the land was flat and the roads were good, you would be able to cover the distance between the city and the village in matter of minutes. In this case, however, the roads are terrible and there is a sizable mountain ridge between the two, meaning that the trip takes better than an hour even when you are in a car.

Lake Ohrid, Pogradec, and the mountains that separate us from the Mokër Highlands

A car is hardly a proper mode of transportation for the youthful, the vigorous, and the foolish, however. This is Albania- a world with shepherd paths and without fences that begs to be explored by foot. I convinced one of my site mates, Brad, to join me on this expedition and together we set off early on Saturday morning in search of Potkozhan.

You know a hike is going to be good when your trail brings you to engineering wonders such as this a mere 10 minutes into the day.

We begin our ascent into the hills.

A church, conveniently located next to absolutely nothing. It's pretty, though.

Our first glimpse of the Mokër Highlands

Lake Ohrid from above. If the morning sun wasn't playing havoc on the picture, you could probably see parts of Pogradec along the lake shore.

Navigation strategy of the day: this looks like it goes west, right?

Pictures taken in the midst of talking and while looking into the sun are always flattering.

Hi there, random spring in the middle of nowhere. I sure hope nobody is crazy enough to try to drink out of...

...noooo! Actually, it was cold, refreshing, and delicious. And I'm still alive! Wins all around.

You know what I was thinking would really compliment our nice new stone house? A stone roof.

Tales of better days.

Flowers, trees, mountains. I think that you're obliged to take such pictures.

Eventually, we found our way to the road. This, by the way, is the main road in the Mokër Highlands. When they say rural, they mean rural.

Sa bukur.

A mere four and a half hours after we set off- the church! Which... is... well, they weren't kidding about the small part, now were they?

Or the old part, for that matter. That's an 1159, in case the picture is hard to see.

When we returned to the village itself, we started talking to a group of guys who informed us that a furgon would be passing through town in a few minutes if we didn't want to walk back to Pogradec (the hiking culture doesn't really exist in Albania, so they were quite confused about why we walked to their village in the first place). We sat down and talked with them while we were waiting, with the result being that I managed to fail to take any pictures of the village itself. Oops.

The ride back to town probably qualifies as my greatest furgon adventure to date. It wasn't so much the driving as it was the vehicle (which I assume to be a lab hybrid between a 1980 suburban, a stagecoach wagon, and a Yugo) and the road itself. It was narrow, dusty, bumpy and... well, here's the satellite picture:

The little lightning bolt you see in the midst of the green is the road. We made it back alive, though, and with a full report in hand:

Potkozhan:

Furgon departure location: next to the market

Furgon cost, one way: 200 lek

Travel time by vehicle: about one hour

Other recommendations: Start in Pogradec and walk west. It's more fun that way.

Style Points

Last Wednesday, I worked a half day in the morning and then left Pogradec to make the hour and a half journey to the village of Librazhd. There, I joined several other volunteers for a training in a Peace Corps program called Outdoor Ambassadors. Volunteers who participate in Outdoor Ambassadors organize groups of kids (usually high-school age) in their cities and villages who will take part in events and trips that promote environmental education and outdoor recreation such as hiking and camping. I wanted to learn more this program and therefore joined several other interested Group 13 volunteers in Librazhd, where the older volunteers already have an active program. We tagged along on one of their camping trips in order to learn more about what is involved with organizing and managing one of these groups.

Librazhd is located near the intersection of two of the rivers that flow down out of the mountains of eastern Albania. The river valleys provide a stunning landscape for both the town and for our campsite, which was located about an hour's walk north of the village. From here, I'll let pictures do the talking.

The next morning, as we were all preparing to make our ways back to our sites, one of the volunteers in Librazhd suggested that I take the train back to Pogradec. It was going to be passing through town at mid-morning, it charges less than half the price of a furgon, and the journey between Librazhd and Pogradec is regarded as one of the most scenic sections of the entire train system. I considered all to be excellent points and, a couple hours later, found myself standing on the deteriorating passenger platform of the Librazhd train station, watching my very first Albanian train slow down to a crawl as it pulled into the station.

Just in case you happened to miss my last post, I'm going to take a moment to recap the train description that is provided in the official Pogradec tourism guide in order to set the stage for my journey:

"The District of Pogradec has access to the railway network. This fact is known by few people. [...]The ride, however, is not comfortable. Trains are very old and it takes seven hours to go from Tirana to Pogradec[...] Only the people that are interested in industrial archeology should venture taking the train to Pogradec. [...] On the train you can enjoy looking at both the scenery and the variety of people that board and get off the strange train."

Somewhere between industrial archeology and strange train, I had become convinced that a train journey in Albania would be one of those adventures that you take only to be able to say that you've done it. Considering these low expectations, I was very pleasantly surprised when I found conditions that were actually quite comfortable. A brief summary:

Seating: Cushioned! I honestly thought that I had heard that some of the passenger cars have wooden bench seating. That's not to say that there isn't a wooden bench or two somewhere out on the system, but on this train there were none to be found.

Windows: Destroyed. Every window in the two passenger cars that were on my train (no really, every single one) had been shattered by what appeared to be rocks. When I'm old, grey, and showing my grandkids pictures from this trip in 40 years, though, I will doubtlessly recount tales of wild bandits on horseback riding down out of the hills to raid the trains for women and the tens of lek that I guarded dearly in my leather money purse... because really, they look like bullet holes. I'm pretty sure the culprits were rocks, though. If you read the artricle that one of my old high school friends linked in the comment section of my last post (by the way, thanks for that Andy), you will find out that it is speculated that furgon drivers payed children to throw those rocks in order to deter people from using the trains as a transportation option. This may sound surprising uncivilized if you've never met a furgon driver, but if you have... yeah, that sounds about right. An interesting breed, those fellows are.

Fellow passengers: Pleasant. I once had a seat on an Amtrak train next to a guy that told me all about how he spent all of his disability payments on booze and low rider pick up trucks and was on his way to live with his son in Indiana for a couple weeks while he waited for the next payment to come in. Mercifully, our conversation was cut short when he found out that the girl working on the cafe car was a cutey and went to go work his magic on her. (There are some moments when I am incredibly grateful to be a man. But I digress.) Fair or not, he is what I tend to picture in my mind when I think of Amtrak passengers. I understand that this is Europe and that trains serve a much, shall we say, broader base of the population over here, but Albania doesn't exactly have the silk cushioned luxury lines that you find racing across the countrysides elsewhere on the continent. As such, I was half expecting to be surrounded by the Balkans cast of Amtrak. Instread, everyone on board seemed surprisingly normal. Certainly no stranger than furgon passengers, at least.

Speed: Not so much. Partly because of the age of the engines and partly because of the conditions of the tracks, the trains maintain what surely must be no more than a 30mph clip throughout their journey. This has a way of making a trip from one side of the country to the other extremely long, but it added less than an hour to the trip between Librazhd and Pogradec.

Scenery: Lovely. It is the same countryside that you pass through on the road (the tracks and the highway run nearly parallel for the entire journey), but you get to enjoy it at a slower pace and without the impending feeling of doom that often hangs over the trips on the road. Speaking of which...

Impending feelings of doom: Depends on what you think of tunnels. Namely, tunnels built during communist-era Albania by young volunteers. There are many between Librazhd and Pogradec, including a 2-miler --gulp-- that passes under the mountain ridge on the western shore of Lake Ohrid. Mercifully you are not forced to observe the handicraft of these 15 year old mountain dwarves, though, seeing as how there are no lights on the train cars and no lights in the tunnels themselves. That is a very effective recipe for "dark," in case you were wondering.

Random English Tourists: One. A little over half-way through the trip, some Albanian boys who I had briefly spoken to earlier came running up to me and told me that I needed to follow them. They were quite excited because there was a girl from England on the train and, seeing as how I spoke English and she spoke English, we obviously needed to meet. I couldn't imagine that a tourist would actually be using the train, but I thought I would humor them and see what the story was.

As it turned out, they weren't lying at all. Sitting in the car behind me was a 20 year old English girl from London who was backpacking around the Balkans. By herself. She acknowledged that it was maybe a little bit crazy to do so, but up to that point everything had been going quite well. We talked for a while and, shortly before we arrived at the station in Pogradec, I asked her how long she was planning to stay in town. She told me that she intended to pass directly through Pogradec and make her way over the border to Ohrid that evening due to the fact that Pogradec doesn't offer any hostels.

If this was America, that probably would have meant that our meeting would have ended there. This is Europe, though-- the world of hostels and couch surfing. Inviting traveling strangers into your home isn't quite the oddity that it is in America. As such, I decided to ignore my instincts regarding what does and doesn't qualify as being an individual of questionable character and offered her a spot on my extra bed that night if she had any desire to stay around and see Pogradec.

Somewhat surprisingly, she actually accepted my offer. A wonderfully awkward story about me getting called away to a meeting with my apartment managers as soon as we got back into town follows, but I'll spare you the gory details here. In summary, what I expected to be a short coffee meeting turned into a long Raki meeting, meaning that I left the poor girl alone in my apartment for about an hour and a half (mercifully, she was tired and slept through the entire thing) just to return-- in the middle of the afternoon, mind you-- smelling of strong alcohol (the duet it played with "sweaty camping" must have been quite melodious) and feeling a wee bit tipsy. For bonus points, those same apartment managers informed me that they needed to take some measurements of the layout of my apartment that day, meaning that I returned drunk and with two new strange men in tow. How she restrained herself from dousing us all with pepper spray and running out of the building screaming is something that I may never understand. Let's just say that I'm glad that I didn't still have a mustache. After that, though, things settled back down and I had a very enjoyable evening of showing her around Pogradec.

All told, I am a very big fan of our train system and, if you're even in Albania, I would strongly recommend that you take at least one trip on it. Even if you're not into industrial archeaology.

Over the river and through the woods

When you look at Albania on a map, you're likely to have one of the following three thoughts:

"Hey, that's right on the Mediterranean."

"Wow, it's really close to Greece and Italy."

and

"That's a really small country, isn't it?"

You'd be correct on all three. Today, however, we are talking about transportation, so I want to take a moment to dwell on the last thought. Albania isn't just small. Albania is "smaller than Maryland" small. Whereas Maryland has all sorts of bumps, tails, pan-handles, door-handles, and bow ties to spread it out into a long, odd shape, Albania is basically a tidy little rectangle. 200 miles long, 60 miles wide. When I realized that, my first thought was that a person must be able to get from wherever they were to wherever they wanted to be in the country before it was even time to eat lunch.

Oh, was I ever wrong about that one. For example, there is a beautiful coastal town in southern Albania by the name of Saranda. If you draw a straight line from Pogradec to Saranda, you will find that they are all of about 80 miles apart. And yet if I ever want to go to Saranda, I will need to plan for a road trip that lasts about 8 hours. Probably more. How, a person might ask, does that happen?

To be fair, you must begin by acknowledging that Albania has a terrain that would be a civil engineer's nightmare (or dream, I suppose, if they're a masochist). There are two types of places in Albania: those that are in the mountains and those that are next to the mountains. Flat land is a luxury that is found in very limited quantities here. The mountains aren't all huge, but they are rugged and they are everywhere.

That said, there is a more important factor to consider when trying to understand the transportation difficulties here: before 1991, private citizens were not allowed to own or drive cars. For almost half of the 20^th century (namely, the half when the automobile burst onto the scene), Albania was ruled by a communist dictator named Enver Hoxha (ho-ja) who did not fancy his people driving around in the non-communal bliss of a private automobile. I have heard it said that when the communist government fell in 1991, there were fewer than 60 cars in the entire country. I can't vouch for the exact numbers, but what I do know is that building a highway system was not very high on the priority list of Hoxha's government.

I would not be a very honest man if I didn't say that part of me wants to go back in time and give Hoxha a big high-five on that one. I think that much of the western world is far too dependent on cars and that it leads to many unfortunate consequences. That said, you can't just eliminate cars and stop there. There must be a second part of that transportation plan that sounds something like this:

"We won't have cars, so instead, our transportation system will rely on an efficient network of buses/trains/subways/bicycles/large carrier pigeons."

Unfortunately, when Albania put together their transportation plan, I think the conversation sounded something more like this:

Advisor 1: Yes, so like I was saying, we won't have any cars.

Hoxha: Great idea!

Advisor 1: Thank you!

Hoxha: By the way, that is unquestionably the largest bird I've ever seen. Why is it here?

Advisor 1: Glad that you asked! You see, instead of having cars, our transportation system will rely on an efficient network of...

**Advisor 2 bursts through the doors, the faint smell of raki surrounding him**

Advisor 2: HOXHA! The Americans are going to invade!

Hoxha: What?! What can we do?

Advisor 2: How about building 700,000 concrete bunkers?

Hoxha: Isn't that a almost a bunker per person?

Advisor 2: Yes it is!

Hoxha: That will take years! And all of our money!

Advisor 2: Yes! Every last cent!

Hoxha: I... like your thinking! I like your spirit! We need to start this now!

**exit Hoxha and Advisor 2**

Advisor 1: ... and... carrier... pigeons.

A train system is in place in the country, but it is probably one of the only train networks in the world (certainly the only one in Europe) against whom Amtrak can comfortably claim superiority. One of the official tourism guides for Pogradec describes it in the following way:

"The District of Pogradec has access to the railway network. This fact is known by few people. [...]The ride, however, is not comfortable. Trains are very old and it takes seven hours to go from Tirana to Pogradec[...] Only the people that are interested in industrial archeology should venture taking the train to Pogradec. [...] On the train you can enjoy looking at both the scenery and the variety of people that board and get off the strange train."

What they fail to mention about the strange train, however, is the fact that a) tickets are dirt cheap b) you can bring your own alcohol on board and c) many of the cabooses apparently don't keep the back door locked , thus allowing you to sit on the back deck during your journey. Drinking beer with friends on the back of a train while winding through the mountains? Yes, please. It hasn't happened yet, but I have every intention of making sure that it does someday.

Unfortunately, there are times when life requires you to travel with speed and sobriety. Or, should I say, relative speed and functional sobriety. In that case, you must turn back to the roads and the highway system that they have effectively put together from scratch during the last 20 years. I wasn't around for the early days of the American automobile highway system, but it makes sense to think that things grew together naturally. In the beginning, there were very few rules of the road and nobody really knew how to drive, but they also had wooden wheels and cars that topped out at 30mph. The cars became bigger and faster, but the roads also became larger and more organized and the drivers became more experienced.

In Albania, on the other hand, you have small roads, few traffic laws, relatively inexperienced drivers, and really fast cars. It is not always a winning combination. You could not pay me enough money to drive in this country (although plenty of people do and, oddly, I see fewer accidents here than I ever did in the states). Thankfully, there are many people that are glad to let you pay them to drive you around. The carless traveler has several options: hitchhiking, taxis, furgons, and buses.

Hitchhiking is still relatively common in Albania and can be a great way to travel. It's free, you get to meet people, it's faster than furgons and buses, and, when the furgons just aren't running any more, it might be the only way that you can get where you need to go. I don't use this option often or when I'm alone (mother), but it is a possibility.

Taxis? They are expensive. There are much better things to spend money on Albania. Next, please.

Buses! Buses run between most of the major cities in Albania. They will vary in quality from "industrial archeology" to "hey, this thing has air conditioning!" They are usually slightly cheaper than furgons, but they are also slower and make frequent stops. One very nice thing about buses, however, is that most of them operate on a set schedule. You might need to do some investigating to figure out what that schedule is (Albanians don't really like to post information like that in public places), but once you do, you know exactly when you can hop a ride out of town. That might not seem like such a big luxury when you are in America and have that power at all times, but it is a big deal when your alternative is this:

You might be asking what it is that you are supposed to be looking at in that picture. Is it the slick VW detailing on the headrests? Is it the fall-collection zebra-print seat covers? Is it the group of guys standing outside, wondering why some kid is taking a picture of the inside of an empty van? Well, yes to all, but the photograph was originally intended to show the dark side of furgons: the empty furgon. Furgons are great because they'll take you anywhere, but they aren't taking you even so far as the next block until they have enough passengers to make it worth their while. If you're lucky, you find a furgon that is almost full and will leave mere minutes after you arrive. If you're not lucky, you get to sit in an empty furgon for as long as it takes until they can round up enough people that are headed your way. My personal longest wait was about an hour and a half, but I've heard of worse. Needless to say, you need to plan some extra time into your trip if a furgon is your travel method of choice.

Once you are on the road, you'll usually get at least one opportunity to stop and contemplate things like life, the good times that you had, and some of those things that you wish you had done before you died in a fiery blaze somewhere in the mountains of Albania.  

(Editors note: that last sentence may come across as extremely inappropriate right now due to the fact that a terrible bus crash that killed 14 people did happen a couple days ago in the mountains of northern Albania.  I wrote this before I knew about the accident and in no way was referencing that event.  Maybe I should take the sentence out all together, but I'm leaving it in because the subject of terrifying road trips is a frequent topic of conversation among volunteers.  Hope you don't mind.) 

That by the way, is not a back road. That is the main highway between Tirana (capital and largest city) and Elbasan (3rd largest city). Roads like that are not all that uncommon. That is an especially windy part of the road, but straight, flat stretches of highway are rare beasts in this country. Furthermore, what may look like a winding two lane road to you and me is actually a three laner with a passing lane that fits snugly into those seven feet between you and the cars approaching from the opposite direction. Your enjoyment of furgon rides increases immensely once you realize that this lane is there and that your driver isn't just passing on blind corners for the adrenaline rush. That's what I like to tell myself, at least. I could go on trying to explain what it is like to ride in cars on those roads, but really it is just something you need to experience for yourself to properly understand.

There are a few other fun details of life on the road in Albania. One is the Pilaf Stop. If your furgon or bus is traveling any longer than about two hours, chances are good that they'll make at least one stop along the way to let the passengers get out, stretch their legs, drink some coffee and eat some food. Like, for instance, pilaf (a common rice dish in Albania).

That, by the way, is a picture of my furgon camped out during a pilaf stop. I haven't reached the point of randomly posting gas station pictures. Yet. Another fun feature is the natural spring. Some areas of Albania (such as the mountains between Elbasan and Pogradec) have an abundance of natural springs. If a road happens to pass close to one, they don't let it go to waste. At very least, they'll stick a pipe into it and put some tasteful stonework around it. If the spring becomes popular, an enterprising businessman will often set up shop next to it, giving you a full choice of chips and cookies to complement your spring water needs. If the spring becomes extremely popular, entire stores will be built up around them. Anyway, if your driver randomly pulls the car over in the middle of nowhere and runs out of the car with a water bottle, don't be alarmed. He's just thirsty. (A terrible picture of one of the natural springs/snack bars follows)

I feel like I could go on for three more pages about traveling in this country, but I think that I've subjected you all to enough for one go. Next time... maybe businesses. We shall see.

Home Sweet Home

One of the most difficult things about keeping in touch with friends and family while living in a foreign country is the need to continual remind yourself that you live in a world that most of the people back home simply cannot imagine. I know that I certainly couldn't imagine it before I came here. I spent my first couple weeks in Albania in state of wide-eyed wonder, unable to believe that I would ever come to think of my surroundings as normal. Those were the times during which my calls home (or blog posts) were probably at their peak in terms of their information offerings. I still had clear memories of life in America and was able to compare and contrast my life here with the life that I had left behind quite easily.

Somewhere along the line, though, life in Albania became somewhat unremarkable. Not in the sense of being boring, but simply in the way that you grow used to anything that you see every day. Shopping in open markets no longer feels exotic. A furgon seems like a normal means of travel. I forget that there was a time during which I wasn't familiar with Euro-pop music. Tirana, Korce, and Skopsko mean the same thing to me as Bud, Coors, and Shiner. Byrek is standard lunch. And so on and so forth.

I have found myself casually referening all these things and more during conversations with people back home and am almost surprised when they remind me that they don't have the slightest clue of what I'm talking about. If I do this, I promise that it is not in an attempt to make you feel uncultured or untraveled. I simply tend to forget what the world that I knew looked like while I was sitting in the airport in New York City on March 16^th.

Some of this is unavoidable. Some of these topics, however, are begging to become blog material. Therefore, I am going to make an effort to spend the next few weeks trying to fill in and explain some of these little details of my life. We'll begin today with the most basic of the basics: my apartment.

Most apartments in Albania come in one of two styles: communist block apartments or high rise towers. Many, if not most, volunteers live in communist block apartments. These are usually 5 stories (give or take) tall. They aren't much to look at from the outside (unfinished brick or some dully colored plaster), but inside, many of them are surprising comfortable. Most are relatively spacious with a front entry hall, full kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, and balcony. The size and quality of everything will vary from apartment to apartment and city to city, of course, but they usually make for decent living quarters.

Others of us live in the newer apartments that were built in post-communist times. Almost all of these take the form of high rise tower apartments. Most are ten stories (give or take) tall and can vary in quality from comfortable to borderline luxurious. I would classify mine as being closer to the comfortable side of the scale. A picture of my building from the outside:

I have a bit of the hike to the city center/my office (ten minutes through a lakeside park. Some guys really have it rough), but what it lacks in convenience, it makes up for with the quality of its venue: I am sandwiched directly between the football stadium and the lake. I haven't had a chance to take in a game yet, but the lake is a daily pleasure.

Once you enter my apartment building, you get into the elevator (if you didn't just say, "Whoa. Elevator." you obviously haven't been living in Albania) and dial up the 4^th floor. The discerning rider will notice, however, that you got in the elevator on the 2^nd floor... which is marked as floor 0... so I'm actually on the 6^th floor. Go figure that one.

When you get off the elevator, you will probably be greeted by complete darkness. There are no windows in the stairwell and all of the lights are on temporary timers to save electricity. Not a problem, though. You simply walk straight forward until you hit a concrete wall and then feel around with your left hand until you find the light switch on the wall. Easy peasy! Once you flip it on, you have a couple minutes of light to take care of the business of finding your door and your keys.

Actual photograph of my hallway, before finding the light switch..

I wasn't sure about things at first, but I have come to be quite fond of my apartment. I too have an entry hall, living room, dining room, bedroom, and full kitchen. They just happen to all share the same room. Such is the way of the studio apartment. With a little imagination and some rearranging of the furniture, though, it has worked out quite well. It is also very easy to photograph. From the four corners!

View one: Kitchen (left), entry hall (middle), bedroom (right)

View two: Bedroom (left), living room (middle), wardrobe (right)

View three: dining room (left), bathroom (middle), kitchen (right)

View four: You've seen those part before. What you didn't know was that the pearly gates are located directly outside my balcony. And/or I need to turn on the flash.

Other notable things:

The balcony. Complete with washer (blue and propped up in the corner) and drier (front and center). That's probably the closest that I come to a standard Peace Corps experience.

The view from the balcony. I would be willing to bet that every building you see here has been built in the last fifteen years. If you zoom in, you'll find that half of them aren't even complete yet. The closest ridge line more or less marks the border with Macedonia. Please also note the herd of sheep in the empty lot. Their shepherd apparently decided to make a trip to town that day.

My sweet light fixture...

...and my sweet rug. Aside from the down comforter that I plan to buy for the winter, that will probably go down as my most costly purchase in Albania. But it was worth it. It really ties the room together, man.

The bathroom. It's nice. It's blue. It has a new water heater and great water pressure in the shower. I remember during one of my first posts that I was showing some pictures of our hotel and talking about how our bathroom was missing something (began with shower and ended with curtain). Well, this bathroom is also missing something. Begins with "shower" and ends with... wait, that's the shower?!

That's no trick of perspective, friends. There are about three feet-- if that-- that separate my toilet and the shower. Not the tub, not the shower stall, but the shower head itself. Takes some getting used to, but it is great for multi-tasking. (I kid! For now...) The water, in case you are wondering, simply collects in a drain in the middle of the bathroom. I was slighly annoyed in the beginning, but it does have the advantage of making it very easy to keep your bathroom floor clean.

So there you have it. The humble abode. This coming weekend, I will be doing a little bit of traveling, so the next post will probably be about transportation in Albania. To wet your appetite, I give you... the hokie furgon!