Tuesday, 8 May 2012
A Whole New World
Woke at 5, freshened up and performed prayers. I wanted to avoid the passenger traffic so I left shortly after 6 and walked to the furgon stop. It took me almost half an hour to get there as the wheels of my suitcase decided to make the trip less smooth for me. I practically had to drag my suitcase the last 200 metres as the suitcase wheels refused to cooperate.
It being Albania, I ended up waiting in the furgon more than 50 minutes before we finally set off. The road became really bad the closer we got to Gjirokastër. We also stopped at a roadside restaurant for R&R for about 20 minutes and this one area where fresh water is channelled from the mountains to fill our water bottles.
We reached Gjirokastër after 4.5 hours of bumpy jolting ride. We got down at the collective gathering place for buses and furgons along the shoulder of the road at the entrance of the town. I had earlier emailed a guest house enquiring if they had a vacancy but because it was such a hot noon, I decided to stay at the first hotel I saw for the main reason that it was much nearer to the stop for my bus out the next morning. I was quoted 200K Lek (around €15) which was the amount I’d have to pay had I stayed at the guest house. It was here when I realised rather belatedly that when the locals looked at me and asked, ‘Kina?’, it meant they were wondering if I was from China. Heh.
After performing prayers, I set off for the old town on top of the hill dominating the landscape. As they say, no pain, no gain. The cobbled street leading up to the old town was so unbelievably steep and it was a challenging climb alright. I finally reached the old bazaar and lingered at a souvenir shop before trekking up yet another steep climb to the castle. The castle is said to be the second largest in all the Balkans. Entrance fee is 200 Lek (less than €1.50). I spent more than an hour there, wishing and willing the stones to talk to me.
I returned to the old bazaar and walked past the mosque to find the guest house I had booked earlier. The mosque is the old mosque left in Gjirokastër. See, in 1967, those in the power (namely the dictator Enver Hoxha, himself born a Muslim) embarked on a violent campaign to ban all religious practices in the country. All churches, mosques, monasteries, and other religious institutions were closed or converted into warehouses, gymnasiums, and workshops by year-end. Gjirokastër Mosque itself was transformed into a circus training centre before returning to its original state. Outrageous!
I found the guest house, a charming one too, in one of the cobbled streets near the mosque. I thanked God that I decided to stay at the first hotel I saw (I don’t think the hotel even has a name! It just states ‘Hotel’) because I don’t think I could lug my uncooperative bag up those wicked steep cobbled streets. No, the buses don’t come into the old town so I’d have to take a cab. And I was planning on leaving early the next morning. So yes, thank God I saw that first hotel and decided to just stay there. The cost is the same anyway.
After that, I made my way to Zekate House, said to be one of the grandest examples of Gjirokastra architecture in the Ottoman style. I had to trek more steep hills to get there and at one point, was gasping repeatedly, ‘Are you kidding me?’ I mean, who would live there anyway? Sure, the view is fantastic but it involves such pain to return to once one leaves the house to run daily chores. The entrance cost 200 Lek but I paid in Euros as I was afraid of running out of Lek (I still need to buy dinner, pay for entrance to the Ethnographic Museum and buy some souvenirs).
I then walked down the cobbled street and down some steps singing A Whole New World on repeat and made my way to the Ethnographic Museum. This was once Enver Hoxha’s house, restored after it was burnt down and displays clothing, kitchenware, tools and other cultural artifacts. The entrance fee is 200 lek. The lady was in the process of locking up the museum for the day (although it was still within visiting hours) when she sighted me. A car with three men also stopped at the same time; the men also intended to visit the museum so the lady turned back and opened the museum again. She gave me a whirlwind tour.
This song is my standard humming song when I travel
I then left and walked slowly around the old bazaar again. I also stopped by the mosque and went in, up to the ladies’ area. I peeped in through the keyhole and the imam must have seen me for seconds later, he came out to greet me. He hailed from Turkey (I didn’t catch the name of town he was from but it’s somewhere near the Black Sea) and kept apologising for his poor English. I assured him his English was fine and then the mufti also came out to join us. He explained that the mosque was the only one which remained following the religious ban in 1967. I was sad to hear this and remarked that I wouldn’t be able to recognise if one is a Muslim or not (I did notice a few Muslim women in Tirana who were all covered up). The mufti also explained that Gjirokastër is one of the towns which suffered most from the religious ban – hence why the mosque is the sole survivor. I chatted with them before taking my leave.
I walked down to the new town and stopped by a ‘fast food’ restaurant. I only noticed it was a halal restaurant after stepping in. Bought a chicken wrap for dinner and lingered at the restaurant for a while, perusing a local daily. It was then when I discovered the footie results of the weekend – that Spuds drew too and Newcastle lost. Hah, I must be the last Gooner to find out about that! I chatted with the girl who served me about football, even showing her pictures I took at the Emirates before returning to my room to rest.
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
Today was a day of travelling. I left at 7.15 am and walked to the main road. I had asked two coach companies the previous afternoon (before exploring the old town of Gjirokastër) the schedules of their coaches to Athens, which would stop at, among others, Ioannina (spelt locally as Ianine). One leaves at 7 pm daily while the other company, ASI Tours, leaves at 7.30 am. The fare was €5 or 700 Lek. I paid in Lek.
We reached the border and had to stop twice – once in the Albanian side, and when we were done, we drove the few metres before stopping in the Greek side. Our passports were collected and presented together at the Albanian side but we all had to get down from the bus and walk through the immigration/border control at the Greek side. The whole process at both sides took less than 45 minutes, including queuing time.
We drove on to Ioannina and I was dropped off at the outskirts of the town with two other passengers, one of whom spoke reasonably adequate English. We waited for a local bus to take into town (fare was €1.10). We parted ways in town and I asked for direction for a passerby to KTEL. I asked for directions twice again to be certain and it was a good thing too for I almost went into the wrong direction.
This was another time on this trip when my suitcase decided to annoy me when I practically had to drag it, or rather, pull it behind me.
I finally reached KTEL and bought ticket for the next bus to Igoumenitsa. The ticket cost €9.80. As it was not yet 12 noon and the bus would only depart at 1230, I decided to return to a supermarket I had passed earlier to buy some provisions. Yes, despite the stupid suitcase.
Just before we boarded the bus, a woman came up and asked a man repeatedly if the bus was going to Igoumenitsa. I overheard her and said I believed it was (see, the characters were all in Greek and it was literally all Greek to us). We then got to chatting and I asked where she was from. she replied, ‘Israel,’ and I hoped to God that my face didn’t betray anything. We also introduced ourselves to each other. Her name is Millie (Milly?).
We boarded the bus and she invited me to sit next to her. She turned out to be a well-seasoned traveller. I was surprised to discover she is retired and has grandchildren. Honestly, she didn’t look like a retiree or a grandmother. We chatted about a lot of things: her travels to Cuba, Central America and South America. She had been in Greece for more than a week then so I asked how she found Athens and how the situation there was. She told me that life in the capital is harder, more stores have run out of business, there was desperation felt everywhere and people generally looked to have lost their hope. I told her how I found Thessaloniki, of how there were still crowds of people going out for meals and the absence of signs of businesses folding. We also talked of our countries; I was curious about Israel and told her how I wished I could visit it.
The bus ride took about 90 minutes and we reached the port of Igoumenitsa just after 2 pm. I’d told Millie that I hoped the bus schedule is such that we’d reach the port in time to board the next ferry out and was pleased to discover that the next ferry out was at 2.30 pm. The fare was €10 and it would take about 100 minutes to reach our destination. I sought the air-conditioned comfort of the dining saloon and tried to nap.
We reached the port of Kerkyra after 4 pm and as it was pretty hot and as we had quite some luggage with us, Millie suggested sharing a cab. She’d decided to come along with me to my hotel and try her luck there (she didn’t pre-book any room). I was reluctant at first but as I was getting increasingly exasperated with my stupid bag, I eventually agreed to share the cab. The cabbie wanted to charge us €8 but we bargained with him and agreed to pay €6. And it was a good thing that we shared the cab too as the hotel location on the map I’d printed out was way off.
No such thing as Cash Cab Corfu. Boo!
To be continued
A Whole New World
Woke at 5, freshened up and performed prayers. I wanted to avoid the passenger traffic so I left shortly after 6 and walked to the furgon stop. It took me almost half an hour to get there as the wheels of my suitcase decided to make the trip less smooth for me. I practically had to drag my suitcase the last 200 metres as the suitcase wheels refused to cooperate.
It being Albania, I ended up waiting in the furgon more than 50 minutes before we finally set off. The road became really bad the closer we got to Gjirokastër. We also stopped at a roadside restaurant for R&R for about 20 minutes and this one area where fresh water is channelled from the mountains to fill our water bottles.
We reached Gjirokastër after 4.5 hours of bumpy jolting ride. We got down at the collective gathering place for buses and furgons along the shoulder of the road at the entrance of the town. I had earlier emailed a guest house enquiring if they had a vacancy but because it was such a hot noon, I decided to stay at the first hotel I saw for the main reason that it was much nearer to the stop for my bus out the next morning. I was quoted 200K Lek (around €15) which was the amount I’d have to pay had I stayed at the guest house. It was here when I realised rather belatedly that when the locals looked at me and asked, ‘Kina?’, it meant they were wondering if I was from China. Heh.
After performing prayers, I set off for the old town on top of the hill dominating the landscape. As they say, no pain, no gain. The cobbled street leading up to the old town was so unbelievably steep and it was a challenging climb alright. I finally reached the old bazaar and lingered at a souvenir shop before trekking up yet another steep climb to the castle. The castle is said to be the second largest in all the Balkans. Entrance fee is 200 Lek (less than €1.50). I spent more than an hour there, wishing and willing the stones to talk to me.
I returned to the old bazaar and walked past the mosque to find the guest house I had booked earlier. The mosque is the old mosque left in Gjirokastër. See, in 1967, those in the power (namely the dictator Enver Hoxha, himself born a Muslim) embarked on a violent campaign to ban all religious practices in the country. All churches, mosques, monasteries, and other religious institutions were closed or converted into warehouses, gymnasiums, and workshops by year-end. Gjirokastër Mosque itself was transformed into a circus training centre before returning to its original state. Outrageous!
I found the guest house, a charming one too, in one of the cobbled streets near the mosque. I thanked God that I decided to stay at the first hotel I saw (I don’t think the hotel even has a name! It just states ‘Hotel’) because I don’t think I could lug my uncooperative bag up those wicked steep cobbled streets. No, the buses don’t come into the old town so I’d have to take a cab. And I was planning on leaving early the next morning. So yes, thank God I saw that first hotel and decided to just stay there. The cost is the same anyway.
After that, I made my way to Zekate House, said to be one of the grandest examples of Gjirokastra architecture in the Ottoman style. I had to trek more steep hills to get there and at one point, was gasping repeatedly, ‘Are you kidding me?’ I mean, who would live there anyway? Sure, the view is fantastic but it involves such pain to return to once one leaves the house to run daily chores. The entrance cost 200 Lek but I paid in Euros as I was afraid of running out of Lek (I still need to buy dinner, pay for entrance to the Ethnographic Museum and buy some souvenirs).
I then walked down the cobbled street and down some steps singing A Whole New World on repeat and made my way to the Ethnographic Museum. This was once Enver Hoxha’s house, restored after it was burnt down and displays clothing, kitchenware, tools and other cultural artifacts. The entrance fee is 200 lek. The lady was in the process of locking up the museum for the day (although it was still within visiting hours) when she sighted me. A car with three men also stopped at the same time; the men also intended to visit the museum so the lady turned back and opened the museum again. She gave me a whirlwind tour.
This song is my standard humming song when I travelI then left and walked slowly around the old bazaar again. I also stopped by the mosque and went in, up to the ladies’ area. I peeped in through the keyhole and the imam must have seen me for seconds later, he came out to greet me. He hailed from Turkey (I didn’t catch the name of town he was from but it’s somewhere near the Black Sea) and kept apologising for his poor English. I assured him his English was fine and then the mufti also came out to join us. He explained that the mosque was the only one which remained following the religious ban in 1967. I was sad to hear this and remarked that I wouldn’t be able to recognise if one is a Muslim or not (I did notice a few Muslim women in Tirana who were all covered up). The mufti also explained that Gjirokastër is one of the towns which suffered most from the religious ban – hence why the mosque is the sole survivor. I chatted with them before taking my leave.
I walked down to the new town and stopped by a ‘fast food’ restaurant. I only noticed it was a halal restaurant after stepping in. Bought a chicken wrap for dinner and lingered at the restaurant for a while, perusing a local daily. It was then when I discovered the footie results of the weekend – that Spuds drew too and Newcastle lost. Hah, I must be the last Gooner to find out about that! I chatted with the girl who served me about football, even showing her pictures I took at the Emirates before returning to my room to rest.
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
Today was a day of travelling. I left at 7.15 am and walked to the main road. I had asked two coach companies the previous afternoon (before exploring the old town of Gjirokastër) the schedules of their coaches to Athens, which would stop at, among others, Ioannina (spelt locally as Ianine). One leaves at 7 pm daily while the other company, ASI Tours, leaves at 7.30 am. The fare was €5 or 700 Lek. I paid in Lek.
We reached the border and had to stop twice – once in the Albanian side, and when we were done, we drove the few metres before stopping in the Greek side. Our passports were collected and presented together at the Albanian side but we all had to get down from the bus and walk through the immigration/border control at the Greek side. The whole process at both sides took less than 45 minutes, including queuing time.
We drove on to Ioannina and I was dropped off at the outskirts of the town with two other passengers, one of whom spoke reasonably adequate English. We waited for a local bus to take into town (fare was €1.10). We parted ways in town and I asked for direction for a passerby to KTEL. I asked for directions twice again to be certain and it was a good thing too for I almost went into the wrong direction.
This was another time on this trip when my suitcase decided to annoy me when I practically had to drag it, or rather, pull it behind me.
I finally reached KTEL and bought ticket for the next bus to Igoumenitsa. The ticket cost €9.80. As it was not yet 12 noon and the bus would only depart at 1230, I decided to return to a supermarket I had passed earlier to buy some provisions. Yes, despite the stupid suitcase.
Just before we boarded the bus, a woman came up and asked a man repeatedly if the bus was going to Igoumenitsa. I overheard her and said I believed it was (see, the characters were all in Greek and it was literally all Greek to us). We then got to chatting and I asked where she was from. she replied, ‘Israel,’ and I hoped to God that my face didn’t betray anything. We also introduced ourselves to each other. Her name is Millie (Milly?).
We boarded the bus and she invited me to sit next to her. She turned out to be a well-seasoned traveller. I was surprised to discover she is retired and has grandchildren. Honestly, she didn’t look like a retiree or a grandmother. We chatted about a lot of things: her travels to Cuba, Central America and South America. She had been in Greece for more than a week then so I asked how she found Athens and how the situation there was. She told me that life in the capital is harder, more stores have run out of business, there was desperation felt everywhere and people generally looked to have lost their hope. I told her how I found Thessaloniki, of how there were still crowds of people going out for meals and the absence of signs of businesses folding. We also talked of our countries; I was curious about Israel and told her how I wished I could visit it.
The bus ride took about 90 minutes and we reached the port of Igoumenitsa just after 2 pm. I’d told Millie that I hoped the bus schedule is such that we’d reach the port in time to board the next ferry out and was pleased to discover that the next ferry out was at 2.30 pm. The fare was €10 and it would take about 100 minutes to reach our destination. I sought the air-conditioned comfort of the dining saloon and tried to nap.
We reached the port of Kerkyra after 4 pm and as it was pretty hot and as we had quite some luggage with us, Millie suggested sharing a cab. She’d decided to come along with me to my hotel and try her luck there (she didn’t pre-book any room). I was reluctant at first but as I was getting increasingly exasperated with my stupid bag, I eventually agreed to share the cab. The cabbie wanted to charge us €8 but we bargained with him and agreed to pay €6. And it was a good thing that we shared the cab too as the hotel location on the map I’d printed out was way off.
No such thing as Cash Cab Corfu. Boo! To be continued
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