In Shkipëria-Land
In Shkipëria-Land

In Shkipëria-Land

Quite agitated, I explain to the firm gentleman with the dark sunglasses the next day for the third time that I do not want to buy a bus ticket to Kotor, but expect someone from Kotor. The bus is stuck somewhere outside the city at a gas station and I restlessly putter back and forth, hoping that the shrieking Roma woman and her unhealthy-looking children will let me wait unmolested.
With one hour delay the bus arrives and with it Louie together with bicycle and luggage. Finally!
The next day we say goodbye to Sorbus, who has to cycle the last 80 kilometers to Tirana alone, and let ourselves drift through the city.
It is a bicycle city, the flat landscape leads itself to this. There are enough cars on the streets but they seem to be aware of bicyclists appearing out from behind the next parking. With our Kathmandu biking experience we feel comfortable on the streets with the chaos, noise and dust. The similarities don’t end there, the city has a Nepal vibe to it. People set up store where ever they find two square meters. The products displayed as if a toddler just tipped out his toys. Coffee holds the same position Chai does and older gentlemen frequent the many cafes throughout the city. Even though it is the second biggest city in Albania with the bike you can quickly be outside the city boundaries. We spend two afternoons with exploring and find our way to the lake beach, the castle and an unmarked -ask us for the details if your ever in Shkoder- look out over the river and city.
After another night in the friendly hostel “Mi casa es tu casa” in the heart of the city we finally leave. Even if we don’t aim for Tirana, we still feel the haze of this big city. Again and again we drive together with the heavy traffic on the bigger roads. The landscape is flat and dominated by industry. During a detour to the beach of Shengjin, we marvel at the construction sins and the absurd character of this sea access. I feel slightly under pressure: After the absolutely brilliant driving days during the last ten days, I am sorry that we have to start our adventure with such an unspectacular route. Fortunately, our overnight stop today makes up for the day. After the targeted small lake has turned out to be unsuitable, we talk with the help of Google Translate and my “Magic letter” some locals. No problem, we are allowed to camp in their garden with a great view, are pampered as a start with Rakia and (!) a cup of delicious honey and get to know the whole extended family. Also a warm shower in the house and the use of the WC`s is for the cordial people no problem at all. Schan, Nina, Adi, Anton, Daura and their children live together in two houses as a large family. They cultivate a large vegetable garden, keep chickens, cows and sheep and even the honey comes from their own production.
After a quiet night, we load our bikes early the next morning, when Anton shows up with his cell phone, offers Louie rakia and cigarettes, and then excuses himself to work with his donkey.
Also today the route remains rather unspectacular, but at least Tirana is now behind us and it can actually only get better. We make it to the coastal town of Durres. Glass-coated skyscrapers and half-ruined real estate dreams line the beach and tell stories of busy summer months. Just before we pitch our tent on the windy beach, Serges approaches us and unceremoniously invites us to join him in his apartment. My initial distrust soon gives way to curiosity. Serges is quite an interesting person. He comes from Siberia, spent the first thirty years of his life there and moved to Germany with his family after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Now he lives in Denmark, has an apartment here in Albania and drives around with a Swiss license plate. From Serge we learn a lot about life in Siberia. The area is so big that in the north people live in snow and ice and in the south melons ripen. If you were to move Switzerland to Siberia, “I don’t think you’d find it as fast,” Serge says. Love and respect for his “Mother Russia” shines through in many of his expressions. Seen through his eyes, the rest of the world seems small and insignificant.

Serge spoils us with a Siberian-Southern style dinner: pre-cooked, frozen tongue with bread and olives tastes quite excellent!
After a hearty egg and ham breakfast on the balcony with a chic beach view, we set off in the direction of Divjake National Park, one of Albania’s numerous lagoons. The drive there surprises us again and again with striking similarities to regions in Nepal or South India. The simple, neat houses, the freely roaming domestic animals, the manual field work, the simple tractors and smoking waste fires at the roadside make us marvel. Many people here are at least partially self-sufficient. The people wave us friendly and the drivers greet us with a short honk.
Finally we cross a first canal and find ourselves in a completely different world. Suddenly the road leads through dense jungle and the somewhat unspectacular and hot plain seems far behind us. We dive into this new, inviting world and learn in the visitor center that this park is home to flamingos and pelicans, among others. Pelicans! Flamingos!!! All this in Albania? We unload the bikes and set off on an exploratory ride. On salt-encrusted, sandy ground we bump avoidingly towards the sea and meet two guys who are operating their archaic-looking fishing net in the evening sun. Also bumpy, we communicate through Google Translate and learn that the two are cousins, they think little of stressful work and we should beware of the snakes on the way back. “Don’t fall over,” Nikola advises us. The connected sister in Greece greets us kindly in English and then unceremoniously sends her scantily clad son in front of the camera, who also wishes us only the best for our journey. We make it back to the visitor center without snake bites and almost fall off the bike when we suddenly come face to face with a real pelican. While the pelican after its evening toilet tucks its huge beak including head under a wing and sleeps, we are woken up countless times during the night by the park dogs, which choke out balls of fur every hour right next to our tent or fall into excited yapping.
Our stay in the Divjake park becomes around some longer than thought: First I and then Louie become ill and after we got rid of ourselves both finely cleanly of our stomach contents, we need in each case still further 24 h around again to come to some extent to forces. We take a room in the jungle and are happy to be stranded in such a special place.

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)

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