Shenjin, Our Last Albania Port

Our last port in Albania is Shenjin. This Asian sounding town is named after St. George. It is really a very small village that happens to have a small port mostly for commercial fishermen. We decide to anchor our in a nearby bay and avoid the congested port. Just about dusk, Steve notices a guy waving to get our attention on shore. It ends up being the harbormaster. Over the VHF radio he tells us we are required to go into the harbor to do paperwork. When we get there, we are informed we have to pay 100 euro to the port authority even if we are not staying at the harbor. I am pretty sure this is not legal but the harbormaster and agent insist. We end up spending the night tied up to a tugboat. There wasn’t even a berth for us to stay in. As we are leaving I tell them I will pay the 100 euro but I am also reporting this to the tourist ministry. I then pull out my camera to take the picture of the two guys. The harbormaster turns away. Yeah I think they totally were just trying to get a fee out of us. It is sad that our last port in Albania would leave such a bad taste in our mouths. I am ready to move on to Montenegro.

North to Durres

We sail north to Durres, which is about 8 hours sail. The coast offers no safe shelter in between. The weather was nice and the ocean calm so it made for an enjoyable day out to sea. The port of Durres is the largest port in Albania. It is where all of the importing and exporting of goods change hands. Large cranes surround the harbor and high cement frame the docks. This port is really not set up for visiting yachts, but are glad to accommodate us. The town itself is also pretty industrial. This is not a town for vacationers. Tall residential apartment blocks ascend into the sky creating canyons to the streets below. The architecture is at least an attempt to do something more than square refrigerator type housing, and often are quite successful. But the abundance of tall building still gives the city a no nonsense industrial feel. In the early evening, the harbormaster boarded our boat. He is a happy guy in his late 50’s with gold braiding on his sleeve advertising his rank and authority. As it turns out he just wants to chat with us. So we discuss life with someone who has lived through the communist period and is now still working for the government. He talks of his two children, a boy and a girl going to university and his wife working as a teacher. He is obviously much better off financially than most of his fellow citizens. But it was not always so. He also talks of those dark days of communism when all food and gas was rationed if you could even get it; Of waking up at 3 in the morning to stand in line in hopes of getting some milk and still being turned away when the days allotment was gone. Very few people had any kind of refrigeration. So the neighbors would plead with those few who had such a convenience if they could store their meat, or other perishables. The refrigerator barons would do what they could but often there was never enough room for everyone’s needs. “Come back tomorrow maybe someone will eat their meat tonight and there will be room” was often heard. Now the food is better, and plenty of goods are available. But the wages are still very low. Average wage seems to be around $450 a month. Workers tell us they can’t afford to buy coffee in a café that sells for only a dollar. Families rarely can move out of mom and dads, so generations pull together to make things work.

Dressed to the Nines

This is certainly a city where what you put on in the morning is important and well though out. It is not unusual to see women in stiletto high heels walking down the street during the day in tight jeans or very short shorts. Their shoes and purse precisely match what they are wearing. Colors are strong and fashionable. Absolutely nothing looks just thrown on. This may be a Muslin country, but there is not a trace of Muslin influence on what is worn on the streets. The guys attention to their attire is the same. Hair coiffure, just the right pair of jeans, tailored shirts ironed and starched and expensive shoes. People wear clothes that fit them. There are no baggy pants hanging down past their butts, hardly any shorts on the guys, and no sloppy sweatshirts thrown on to run to the store. I decided I needed a new pair of jeans, so did a little shopping. The pricing was not cheap and the selection was very upscale designer type of choices. The most amazing thing to me is the size range was from 29” waist to 32” waist. That was their entire size range. As you look around it was all the size needed. Hardly anyone even has a soft stomach. Both the women and men are extremely fit. Even the old people stay in pretty good shape. This is a culture that prides itself in taking care of themselves and looking good. Oddly enough, it is also the first place in Europe where it has been a bit difficult finding any diet drinks. While they may be neat and tidy in their clothing, their telephone lines are a mess. There are wires everywhere in some neighborhood. If you want to add a new phone line, I think you just do it yourself.

Tirana

We took a packed mini bus into Tirana, the capital of Albania. It is about a two and a half hour trip of being tossed, bounced, jostled and bumped some more along heavily potted and rutted roads connecting smooth highways through a verdant countryside sprinkled with small family farms. The city itself is quite large with grand boulevards and spacious parks at the center of town. You can feel the eastern block Soviet influence in the government buildings. But any sign of communist rule has been scrubbed clean. Albania is boldly trying to push themselves into the modern world. For me, the most exciting place to visit was the Art History Museum. I love socialist propaganda art with its workers of the world as heroic figures. Massive arms pounding iron with hammers big enough to demolish a house and women charging into battle with rifles in hand wearing angelic faces fighting for glory. It is a style that eastern block countries perfected and Albania had some astonishing examples of this genre. I loved it. We stayed at a nice hotel near the center of town that was reasonably priced and convenient. The restaurants are incredibly inexpensive. It was not difficult to have a nice lunch for less than 500 lek, (only about 5 dollars) a huge dinner with appetizers and all the trimmings still only ran about 1000 to 1200 lek ($10-$12). Typical main courses were about 400 lek ($4) We tried lots of the local cosine and loved the mixing of unusual flavors with simmered sauces and oven-baked meat. Lamb is probably the most common meat served in Albania. Pork not so much since this is a predominately Muslin country. Our favorite was a fried white cheese with a blackberry sauce. Wow, my mouth loved that combination.

The Bunkers of Albania

As you sail up the coast of this country, the one thing that is impossible to ignore are the concrete bunkers that look like they are out of a scene from an old WWII movie. They are strung out along the seashore like a cement strand of pearls. It is difficult to gaze at the landscape without it being interrupted by a round domed concrete bunker. The communist leader of Albania, Enver Hoxha, who was in power from the end of WWII until 1985 feared an invasion of his country from the west so decided to fortify it the way it was done in the war. He built over 750,000 of these bunkers. They are not only on the coast but are scattered throughout the country like buckshot. You see them in residential neighborhoods, plowed around on farm acreage and on city roads. With a population of just over 3 million, if there were two people in each bunker, they would fit about half of the population of the entire country. It is kind of sad to see how much effort and money was spent on something so useless when this country needs its resources going to much better causes. But then I could make that statement about most countries and the waste that is spent on fear of war.

Things You Notice in Albania

We tied the boat up in Orikum, the only tourist marina in Albania. It is about half way up the coast in an area that wants to be a tourist destination. Long pebbled beaches punctuated by small family-owned resorts surround the large bay. For a couple of months a year the locals tell us it is very busy. The rest of the year, hotels stay pretty empty and beaches deserted. In the middle of May, there were still a lot of very new hotels that haven’t even bothered to open yet. We were about the only tourists in the small town. And everyone knew we were foreigners. They were all a bit shy, but very friendly. The next morning we hear some loud explosions out near the harbor entrance. It turns out the way to fish in Albania is to drop dynamite over the edge of the boat. The explosion stuns the fish and a guy using a snorkel gathers up the fish stuffing them in his Speedo, surfacing to throw them into the boat. And yeah, the fish are stunned but still alive. We asked a local guy if this was legal and he said no, but who is going to do anything about it? If someone complains, they just throw a couple of dollars their way.

Arriving in Albania

Our first port for the summer is Saranda on the coast of Albania about 2 hours sail from Crofu. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was expecting from this country that time has passed by. We have heard wild rumors telling of misadventures, thievery, pirates, and bribes as well as friendly people, beautiful unspoiled coastal cities that welcomed visitors with open arms. Fortunately, it was the latter that welcomed us. Agimi, the port commissioner, met us when we were throwing our lines to the cleats and helped us secure the boat as well as the immigration papers and official entry stamps. This former Communist block country has settled into democracy and has quickly adapted to the western culture. We walked around the town for the first afternoon. Since it was May Day and an official holiday, not much was opened. But we managed to find a pleasant restaurant playing Mick Jagger’s classic “Satisfaction” and young Albanians sharing the afternoon with each other in Levis and tee shirts. Though this is a predominately Muslin country there was not much sign of it. What I did notice is lots of young boys wandering around, going to the beach and hanging out with each other. Very few young girls were anywhere to be seen. It is definitely a culture where the males rule the roost. We relaxed for the afternoon at a local restaurant, settling in with the free wifi signal and a soft drink. The next day we rented a car and drove to the impressive Roman ruins of Butrint. Butrint was already a bustling port city when Julius Caesar charged through with his army while chasing Pompeii around the countryside. Later when Augusta Caesar rose to power, he poured wealth into this ancient Roman city to make it a first class resort. The most prominent villa was built by one of the Senators of the time. There is a beautiful amphitheater that is surrounded with water and hundreds of turtles that sun themselves on the ancient stones. Somewhere along the way, the seas silted, time swept over the city and it crumbled in the jungle for a couple dozen centuries. It wasn’t until the 1930’s that archeologist dug and dusted off what was left of the crumbling stone to reveal what was once lost.

We then headed in the other direction to “Blue Eyes”, a natural underground spring. On the way we got a little lost. But we had fun with the locals as we use hand gestures, a few words of English that may or may not be the correct words to use and smiles to finally figure out where we made a wrong turn. But it was all worth it to see this incredible natural underground spring that penetrates deep into the earth. Divers have gone down over 200 feet and still not found the bottom. What comes out is crystal clear cool water that gushes enough to form its own river. The color of the hole ranges from turquoise fading to a deep cobalt blue. And the river that flows from it is also crystal clear since there is no silt from rainwater washing into it. The spring and river are both beautiful and amazing to see.

Cleaning in Corfu

We have a couple of weeks to get the boat ready to sail for the summer season. Sails have to be put back in place, the tender has to be pumped back up, supplies need to be bought, bikes have to be lubed and adjusted, but above all the boat needs to be scoured clean. After a winter moored at this island that has heavy rains all winter, we had a lot of scrubbing to do. We scrubbed, and washed and sprayed and polished and then started all over again until the decks are as sparkly white as a Donny Osmond smile. We also decided to redo our bedding. I talked Steve into sewing new duvet covers for all the berths. They look great.

On to Athens

We caught a fast plane and flew directly to Athens with a very brief layover in London. Our plane arrived late because of delays in taking off. As we got off the plane, there was someone from the airport to greet us and shuffle us quickly to our plane taking us from London to Athens. We wouldn’t have made it without his help as he whisked us through security and maze of Heathrow. We left San Francisco on Friday afternoon and didn’t make it to Athens until 6pm Saturday night. Of course there were some time zone changes in there, but I have to say, it feels like a very long day. We are pretty casual travelers and didn’t bother booking a hotel or our flight to Corfu. But everything worked out. The next day was the Greek Orthodox Easter, a week later from the one we celebrate, so the city should be buttoned up pretty tight. We decided to stay a few days to celebrate their Easter and then see the new National Museum on Monday. I haven’t been there since Greece opened the new one up, and I have wanted to see it the last couple of times I have been in Athens. But when we arrived early Monday morning, we found out it was closed for the day. After two days of hanging around Athens to visit the museum was enough. We got on our plane to Corfu that evening and made our way to our floating home. The museum will have to wait for another trip through. It is so nice being back.

A Moving Experience in San Francisco

Once more we spent the winter in San Francisco sharing our time with family and friends. In December, Larry, who owned the beautiful Victorian on Page Place, with Steve announced that he was retiring and moving to Palm Springs. So for the past couple of months Steve has been selling, giving away, and storing 23 years worth of too many items he has collected in his way to much storage space of a garage. It was a lot of work and we are happy to have it all behind us as we look forward to this summer in the Mediterranean.

Into the Gulf

The Corinth Cannel dumps you out into the much larger Gulf of Corinth. It is a huge gulf with lots of towns and villages on both sides. The most famous being Delphi, where the oracles told the future and guided ancient Greece with their mystical powers. We usually take two quick days sailing through this gulf heading to the Ionian Islands. This time we have a little extra time on our hands and find ourselves picking our way through the small villages that dot the coastline. We hung out at the island of Trizonia just off the coast for about 3 days. There is a nice quay that can handle about 10 boats. From there we threaded our way once again through the Ionian Islands and berthed the boat on Corfu for the winter.

Corinth Cannel

The next morning we continue west. Rather than having to sail all the way around the Peloponnesus, we are able to take a short cut through the Corinth Cannel. The cannel is about a 3.2-mile stretch that connects the Gulf of Corinth with the Aegean Sea. Nero first started digging the cannel back in Roman times using 6000 Jewish slaves, but never finished it. It seems a little uprising in Gaul distracted him from the project. Octavia tried to bridge the gap by building a road and dragging his boats across this narrow stretch of lands. The remains of that road can still be seen. It wasn’t until 1893 that the cannel was finally cut through the limestone. In its day, it was quite the engineering feat. A hundred plus years later, it is almost outdated. Too narrow and too shallow to really function for commercial ships, the cannel is used mostly for private yachts like ours taking a shortcut to the Gulf of Patras. As we pass through we can still see many of the original stonework used to hold up the limestone walls on both sides.