The Wild East

"Taylor was worried that I’d uncover a skull before long"

Got the train to Durres – tickets were 20p though a number of carriages had broken windows. The coaches were battered 1970s Czech coaches. I presume the Czechs took pity on the Albanians and donated them. The Czechs consider Albania to be backward and 3rd world – not helped when some Czech backpackers disappeared without trace a couple of years back.
Most things in Albania seemed to have been stolen, donated from a charity or scrounged. Economists talk about the Albanian miracle, but everyone seemed to know someone who was working illegally in western Europe and sending money home and that seems to be the only thing keeping the country going.

In our carriage there was an old man in his 80s and a boy of about 14. the boy spoke some English and was very friendly. The old man spoke none, but were able to converse through the boy. We found out the old man had fought for Stalin in the war and had spent some time in Russia in his youth. However, he pretended(?) not to understand Russian. Both liked Sali Berisha, the recently re-elected pro-western president. Nano, the defeated socialist, was a filthy dog according to the old man. The Albanians hate dogs, I don’t recall seeing any the whole time there.

A couple of stops later they got out and at Durres so did me and Taylor. We’d actually got out in a suburb at what was a ‘station’ – a piece of crumbling concrete representing a platform, no name, no timetables and certainly no ticket office. There were some very new and smart beach hotels nearby and we spotted the “Hotel Philadelfia” which looked promising. A double room was 15E. The receptionist was friendly and spoke English – she seemed pleased to be able to practice it for the first time since leaving school, 15 years ago.

We headed into Durres centre though the roads were so difficult to walk along in sandals that we headed inland and had lunch in a fish restaurant. A large bunker was in the middle of the patio, now converted into toilets (such a violation of state property would probably have resulted in at least 15years hard labour in Hoxha’s day). Durres seemed very quiet compared to Tirana and there are now two Durres town – the old grim, workaday port with it’s Stalinist blocks of flat and wrecked bunkers and the New Durres by the beach with it’s new developments, hotels, restaurants and bars (my mind immediately called it Daytona beach for some reason). The day was very hot and it was time for some more beer. Albanians seemed very fond of the Italian Peroni brand. For some reason imported beer was often cheaper than the local stuff, but I didn’t try and fathom the reasons why.

Later we tried to check out Zog’s former palace, but it was blocked up with barbed wire. We were getting a lot of long, suspicious glares from the locals and I didn’t think that our presence was welcome – they probably thought we were Serbian spies and we headed back to the town centre. There is a Roman Ampitheatre in Durres – in fact Durres will have a lot going for it in a few years and the tourist ecomony is just starting to get going. Heading back to the Daytona Beach, the best plan was to follow the locals who walked along the main railway track. It wasn’t for the squeamish though, human(?!) excrement was spotted on more than one occasion and a fat rat crossed the tracks in front of us.

We spent a couple of hours on the beach in front of the hotel. I began to dig a hole to bury some orange peel “Will you stop that!” hissed Mark. I protested that the beach was already filthy and a bit of bio-degradable orange peel wasn’t going to do any harm. But Taylor was worried that I’d uncover a skull before long. He was probably right. Although 90% of the bunkers had been smashed in Daytona Beach there were still dozens of them facing the Adriatic almost challenging the Italians to try and invade once again.

The back of the Philadelfia had a 5 a side football pitch. Ready for when Bramhall Rangers do their tour of Albania in the next few years? Heading back into the hotel MT was given a stern telling off for walking through the dining room in his beach gear. The bathroom was brand-new and smart, the only problem was that there was no water for most of the time and when the water was on, there always seemed to be a backflow from the drains. Usually some form of waste (which looked suspiciously like rabbit droppings) appeared from the plughole in the sink.
We paid Dogsbody (the receptionist) the money for the room. The economics of the hotel didn’t seem to work out and I wondered whether it was a money laundering front for more sinister activities. The boy on the train said there were thousands of rich Albanians (i.e. those from Kosovo) in Durres and I wondered if Dogsbody was one of them. The dining room of the hotel was very plush yet there was never anyone eating there.

The nightlife of Durres was very good – lots of cafes and bars around and lots of people usually in big family groups. I’m no sociologist, but the Albanians generally seemed pretty happy with life, relaxed, and families went out together in a big group though it was noticeable that money was tight for most people. Almost the exact opposite of the UK where people can’t spend money fast enough yet a lot more people seem alienated and angry with life in general.
We finished up in Marple Phil’s bar. The owner was a studious-looking guy in glasses, though the beers seemed more then the going rate at 150lek each.

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