I remember (Wouter from the Netherlands. Lives with Brenna in Gjirokaster. June 22)

I remember the very first day I arrived in Albania. I had just come from a hot and crowded place on the Montenegro coast and before me lay the unknown and undiscovered land of Albania.

It was August 2009 and it was unexpectedly hot. I had made it all the way from the Netherlands hitchhiking, but it had become really tough the last few days. Just dragging a 2O kilo backpack up a 100 meter hill already meant my back was completely drenched by sweat.

But now came my main destination, the most unknown place in the Balkans and the country I had been looking forward the most.

The border crossing had been pretty smooth and the first ride was a mere 10 minutes away. The next hour or so we drove over bad roads filled with potholes and the land was barren. There were some far away mountains but nowhere in the vicinity was any greenery. The air was heavy and dusty, the roads were quiet and the car slowly moved its way through this desert-like-landscape.

Finally the outskirts of the city of Skoder popped up and I got dropped off at the most random and dull spot in the city.

I made my way to what seemed like a city center. A charming but completely abandoned pedestrian street lay ahead of me and the one bank’s ATM was unfortunately working. I decided this place wasn’t for me, not now, not in the near future and I moved on.

My thumb stuck into the air again. I felt more comfortable. I didn’t take long this time either for another ride. Less than 5 minutes and I was making my way to Tirana already.

A few hours later I stood at the edge of yet another Albanian city, a bigger and busier city and so far I wasn’t impressed, but there was something about the vibe of this place that made me happy.

The people who gave me rides made me feel really welcome and even if there was nothing worth seeing in this whole country the journey was worth it and so were the people.

My old guide book didn’t have any information on hostels and I was curious if this country had one, otherwise I should start one maybe. 

I asked around a bit and the word internet was obviously international enough to send me in the direction of an internet café soon enough.

The place looked more like an arcade with 80’s Nintendo’s tap an internet café, but after a bit of searching online I figured out there was a hostel close to the center.

I wrote down the main streets names and directions to get there and made my way out of this old fashioned establishment.

A good half hour over half torn up roads, bits of asphalt, concrete and dislocated bricks I found my way to a beautiful Italian style vila in a fancy neighbourhood full of stylish cafés.

Through the gate in the garden I went… Tirana’s backpackers was a classic hostel full of energy, a small dose of chaos and a beautiful setting. 

This was the stat of something special, something that would connect me to this country, something that would bring me back here…..