Sunday, 7 May 2012
Here Comes The Sun
BGY-SKG
I got up and went to freshen up and perform morning prayers. Then I dropped off my bag and went through security check. We left a wet Bergamo on time and I slept all the way until we landed at bright and sunny Thessaloniki (interestingly, the locals still call it by its Turkish name, Selanik).
No immigration check this time and my bag came out early. Bus 78 that services the airport and the city had arrived so I hurried to catch it. The fare was €0.90 but as I didn’t have change, I paid €1. The machine didn’t give any change.
I rode the bus until the last stop, at the Central Bus Station or KTEL as they call it. I struggled to find someone who could speak English to determine this was the right station for me to take my evening bus from (I read there is another bus station in the city). It was a good thing I located my next destination but I was told I could only purchase the ticket after 6 pm (the bus would leave at 8 pm).
I walked around a few times and asked around but no, there was no left luggage room or locker. WTH! That left me no choice but to lug my suitcase along with me. Took bus 8 to the city and walked around. It was such a hot day in Thessaloniki that I decided I would not be ambitious to locate all 15 of the city’s UNESCO designated World Heritage Sites but only those that I could reasonably reach. The high street shops were all closed seeing it was a Sunday; the only establishments opened were the bakeries, cafes, restaurants and souvenir shops. There were people having lunch together with their large families and friends and you’d be forgiven for forgetting the Greeks are facing a financial crisis. I walked up to the White Tower and sat down reading for a while seeking some shade.
After the miserable weather in London, the heat in Thessaloniki got to me. And yes, while I come from a tropical country, I don’t think I will ever get used to this heat. Generally, cities are worse as they have urban heat islands
Here Comes The Sun
BGY-SKG
I got up and went to freshen up and perform morning prayers. Then I dropped off my bag and went through security check. We left a wet Bergamo on time and I slept all the way until we landed at bright and sunny Thessaloniki (interestingly, the locals still call it by its Turkish name, Selanik).
No immigration check this time and my bag came out early. Bus 78 that services the airport and the city had arrived so I hurried to catch it. The fare was €0.90 but as I didn’t have change, I paid €1. The machine didn’t give any change.
I rode the bus until the last stop, at the Central Bus Station or KTEL as they call it. I struggled to find someone who could speak English to determine this was the right station for me to take my evening bus from (I read there is another bus station in the city). It was a good thing I located my next destination but I was told I could only purchase the ticket after 6 pm (the bus would leave at 8 pm).
I walked around a few times and asked around but no, there was no left luggage room or locker. WTH! That left me no choice but to lug my suitcase along with me. Took bus 8 to the city and walked around. It was such a hot day in Thessaloniki that I decided I would not be ambitious to locate all 15 of the city’s UNESCO designated World Heritage Sites but only those that I could reasonably reach. The high street shops were all closed seeing it was a Sunday; the only establishments opened were the bakeries, cafes, restaurants and souvenir shops. There were people having lunch together with their large families and friends and you’d be forgiven for forgetting the Greeks are facing a financial crisis. I walked up to the White Tower and sat down reading for a while seeking some shade.
After the miserable weather in London, the heat in Thessaloniki got to me. And yes, while I come from a tropical country, I don’t think I will ever get used to this heat. Generally, cities are worse as they have urban heat islands
The heat finally got to me and I returned to the bus station knackered (having had to lug my bag everywhere) and perspiring. I settled down to continue my second novel of the trip. Bought my ticket just after 6 pm (€29) and went to freshen up at 7.25 pm.
The bus came slightly after 8 pm. It was not full when we left the bus station but it quickly became full when it stopped at a street to pick up some Albanian passengers. Everyone on the bus except yours truly was Albanian, I suspect even the driver was Albanian too. Turned out there’s a sizeable Albanian population in Thessaloniki.
We reached the border less than 3 hours later. I was praying hard that I’d clear border controls without a hitch. I remember having to get up and out of the bus in the freezing Balkan night just before entering Kosovo last year. Let that be the first and last time please. The Greek border police was cute (yes, I noticed!) and he told me in good English that while I could leave the country, he wasn’t sure if the neighbouring country would accept me. I told him I’ve made my research and I’d take my chances. Still, I said some prayers for a smooth entry.
Monday, 7 May 2012
********
When I first went to India for work, I met three women from Albania. As far as I knew then, I had never met anyone from Albania before so when I found out about them, I tried to observe them: how they look, dress and talk. They looked somewhat like south Italians and could speak adequate English. Their sense of dressing, posture and the way they carried themselves however caused this word to flash in my mind: vulgar. They also didn’t set a good example, often disappearing from our meetings and discussions and absent from our study trips. Still, I was intrigued in them and when I came back, I tried to find out more about the country and why did I exclude it from my Inter-railing trip? It was then when I discovered that Albania had remained largely isolated from the rest of the world in the 20th century.
Three years ago, I read The Wrong Way Home which tells of the travelogue of its author, Peter Moore, who attempted to travel from England back to Australia (he made it as far as Indonesia) in the early 1990s. If you recall, the Balkan at was during the third Balkan War – unstable region! – and Peter actually travelled to Bosnia and Herzegovina and Albania (he also travelled through Iran and Pakistan). I can’t imagine how anyone could travel through that region then but he did and reading his account resuscitated my intrigue and curiosity in Albania. But I couldn’t fit it in my previous trips before. Until now.
********
Thank God, I managed to clear both sides of border control. We pulled into Tirana (Tiranë) at 5 am. It was still dark (unlike in England at this time of the year). I wandered around trying to find my bearings and then went in search of the apartment I’d booked earlier. I finally found the right road and location but as the apartment was located somewhere in a big building, I had no idea which side of the building it’s at and how to enter it. Dejected, I finally decided to go back to Miniri hotel, whose staff gave me the direction. The friendly chap helped me call the number provided by the apartment and relayed to me that someone would come and take me to the apartment at 12 noon. 12 noon! I almost yelled when I heard it. It was not 7 in the morning yet and I was supposed to wait until 12 noon?! Needless to say, this really spoilt my plan to make a side trip to another city called Berat. Buses in Albania don’t run on regular schedules and if I leave too late, there’s no guarantee I’d be able to catch a bus back to Tirana.
After reading a bit on the city, I decided to venture out. The chap who helped me had finished his shift at 7 and ran up to me asking if he could show me around. I decided to let him and so he brought me around, pointing out buildings and giving their brief background/explanation to me. He had to meet a friend at 9 am so we parted ways then.
I wandered around and located the Tourist Information Office (behind the Natural History Museum). The chap manning it was friendly and helpful enough and he directed me to where I could catch buses or furgons (mini buses which look more like mini vans) to Gjirokastër the next day. I decided to check it out, having nothing better to do. I’d rather sort out and determine any location beforehand and not have to wander searching for it at the last minute.
Having determined the furgon stand (a struggle when very few people speak English), I walked back to the main square. Changed some Euros into Lek, the local currency (€1 = 139.6 Lek). I then went to explore some more and found two hotels at Rruga Murat Toptani: Guva e Qete (€20 for one person) and Hotel Kalaja, ensconced in the ancient walls of Justinian Fortress (€10 for one person). Kalaja means ‘castle’ in Albanian.
I went back to Miniri hotel to wait for the person who was supposed to bring me to the apartment I booked earlier. The old man came at 12 and didn’t speak a word of English. Thank God the hotel staff could speak English and they helped me communicate. Finally I told him that I’d changed my mind and would not be staying at the apartment after all. He didn’t look too angry to my relief.
I went back to Hotel Kalaja and checked in. Then I freshened up and laundered my clothes before resting. It had been a tiring evening the day before and half-day today.
Despite the sunny day outside, it was cold in the room. There wasn’t any hot water in the bathroom - and when I queried, the hotel staff struggled to communicate with me. I went for an evening walk, walking first to the money changer where I changed money on the morning. I didn’t check the amount when I received it earlier but when I reflected on it, felt I was short-changed. By €10 worth of Lek. There was a new team behind the counter but thankfully they managed to confirm my claim and returned €10 back to me.
I bought some pies for dinner and continued my walk around Skanderbeg Square before returning to room. The TV in the room didn't work while the room continued to be cold if not colder so I decided to eat my dinner at Murat Toptani, watching the night life. I retired shortly after as I had an early start the following morning.
The bus came slightly after 8 pm. It was not full when we left the bus station but it quickly became full when it stopped at a street to pick up some Albanian passengers. Everyone on the bus except yours truly was Albanian, I suspect even the driver was Albanian too. Turned out there’s a sizeable Albanian population in Thessaloniki.
We reached the border less than 3 hours later. I was praying hard that I’d clear border controls without a hitch. I remember having to get up and out of the bus in the freezing Balkan night just before entering Kosovo last year. Let that be the first and last time please. The Greek border police was cute (yes, I noticed!) and he told me in good English that while I could leave the country, he wasn’t sure if the neighbouring country would accept me. I told him I’ve made my research and I’d take my chances. Still, I said some prayers for a smooth entry.
Monday, 7 May 2012
********
When I first went to India for work, I met three women from Albania. As far as I knew then, I had never met anyone from Albania before so when I found out about them, I tried to observe them: how they look, dress and talk. They looked somewhat like south Italians and could speak adequate English. Their sense of dressing, posture and the way they carried themselves however caused this word to flash in my mind: vulgar. They also didn’t set a good example, often disappearing from our meetings and discussions and absent from our study trips. Still, I was intrigued in them and when I came back, I tried to find out more about the country and why did I exclude it from my Inter-railing trip? It was then when I discovered that Albania had remained largely isolated from the rest of the world in the 20th century.
Three years ago, I read The Wrong Way Home which tells of the travelogue of its author, Peter Moore, who attempted to travel from England back to Australia (he made it as far as Indonesia) in the early 1990s. If you recall, the Balkan at was during the third Balkan War – unstable region! – and Peter actually travelled to Bosnia and Herzegovina and Albania (he also travelled through Iran and Pakistan). I can’t imagine how anyone could travel through that region then but he did and reading his account resuscitated my intrigue and curiosity in Albania. But I couldn’t fit it in my previous trips before. Until now.
********
Thank God, I managed to clear both sides of border control. We pulled into Tirana (Tiranë) at 5 am. It was still dark (unlike in England at this time of the year). I wandered around trying to find my bearings and then went in search of the apartment I’d booked earlier. I finally found the right road and location but as the apartment was located somewhere in a big building, I had no idea which side of the building it’s at and how to enter it. Dejected, I finally decided to go back to Miniri hotel, whose staff gave me the direction. The friendly chap helped me call the number provided by the apartment and relayed to me that someone would come and take me to the apartment at 12 noon. 12 noon! I almost yelled when I heard it. It was not 7 in the morning yet and I was supposed to wait until 12 noon?! Needless to say, this really spoilt my plan to make a side trip to another city called Berat. Buses in Albania don’t run on regular schedules and if I leave too late, there’s no guarantee I’d be able to catch a bus back to Tirana.
After reading a bit on the city, I decided to venture out. The chap who helped me had finished his shift at 7 and ran up to me asking if he could show me around. I decided to let him and so he brought me around, pointing out buildings and giving their brief background/explanation to me. He had to meet a friend at 9 am so we parted ways then.
I wandered around and located the Tourist Information Office (behind the Natural History Museum). The chap manning it was friendly and helpful enough and he directed me to where I could catch buses or furgons (mini buses which look more like mini vans) to Gjirokastër the next day. I decided to check it out, having nothing better to do. I’d rather sort out and determine any location beforehand and not have to wander searching for it at the last minute.
Having determined the furgon stand (a struggle when very few people speak English), I walked back to the main square. Changed some Euros into Lek, the local currency (€1 = 139.6 Lek). I then went to explore some more and found two hotels at Rruga Murat Toptani: Guva e Qete (€20 for one person) and Hotel Kalaja, ensconced in the ancient walls of Justinian Fortress (€10 for one person). Kalaja means ‘castle’ in Albanian.
I went back to Miniri hotel to wait for the person who was supposed to bring me to the apartment I booked earlier. The old man came at 12 and didn’t speak a word of English. Thank God the hotel staff could speak English and they helped me communicate. Finally I told him that I’d changed my mind and would not be staying at the apartment after all. He didn’t look too angry to my relief.
I went back to Hotel Kalaja and checked in. Then I freshened up and laundered my clothes before resting. It had been a tiring evening the day before and half-day today.
Despite the sunny day outside, it was cold in the room. There wasn’t any hot water in the bathroom - and when I queried, the hotel staff struggled to communicate with me. I went for an evening walk, walking first to the money changer where I changed money on the morning. I didn’t check the amount when I received it earlier but when I reflected on it, felt I was short-changed. By €10 worth of Lek. There was a new team behind the counter but thankfully they managed to confirm my claim and returned €10 back to me.
I bought some pies for dinner and continued my walk around Skanderbeg Square before returning to room. The TV in the room didn't work while the room continued to be cold if not colder so I decided to eat my dinner at Murat Toptani, watching the night life. I retired shortly after as I had an early start the following morning.
To be continued
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