Hard Exterior, Soft Interior
Current Destination: London, UK
Next Destination: Saskatoon, Saskatchewan
When I think back to earlier this year, when we announced our plan to travel around the world with our kids for over half a year, the number one question people asked after their initial shock was, “Why Albania?” The list of countries I rattled off made sense to most people, but Albania always seemed to give them pause. They’d get this confused, quizzical look on their faces and ask, “Wait, what—Albania? Isn’t something going on there now? Where exactly is it in Asia? Isn’t that a communist country that was under Russian rule? Or was it one of those breakaway Balkan republics that fell apart after the war in Yugoslavia? Isn’t it dangerous? They always seem to come up as dangerous people in Guy Ritchie movies.”
Patiently, I would explain that, no, nothing is going on in Albania other than the usual challenges a country faces. It’s no more dangerous than Toronto—in fact, based on our time here, I actually think it’s safer and cleaner. It was a former communist country until the early '90s and is transitioning to a capitalist economy. It had nothing to do with Yugoslavia, nor was it part of that country. It’s in Europe—fully and not in Asia.
In fact, the more questions I answered about the country, the more I was forced to learn about it myself—to “defend our choice” and explain our rationale. Not that we needed anyone’s permission to go.
The Republic of Albania has had a checkered and troubled past, like many countries. Its story fascinates me. For over 40 years, Enver Hoxha served as the de facto ruler of this country of just under 3 million people. He was an ardent supporter of communism, siding with Russia at first. Then, seeing the error of his ways, he decided China was the horse to align with. Eventually, he figured that neither regime offered much value to Albania, and for a period of years, the country was shut down, closed, and not open for business. Can you imagine? For that period, people were not allowed to leave or enter the country. Hoxha was so paranoid about coming under attack that there are more concrete bunkers per square mile here than anywhere else in the world. These bunkers litter the countryside as a reminder of what once was.
After navigating different driving styles and deciphering random road signs in Australia, New Zealand, Jordan, and South Africa, I thought I was ready for anything. But then came Albania. I went down the rabbit hole of reading horror stories on Reddit and had friends who had traveled there specifically warn us not to drive and to hire a driver instead. Naturally, being the daredevil I am, I decided to ignore all sensible advice. I figured it couldn’t be that bad—we were in for an adventure.
From the get-go, I realized I needed to channel my inner action hero. I adopted the motto “hesitation leads to devastation.” I may have taken it a bit too much to heart for the family's standards, but hey, we arrived early and in one piece. It was like a real-life version of Mario Kart, only with more Mercedes, BMWs, and Audis than I’d ever seen. I felt out of place in our rented Ford Kuga which was an upgrade from whatever K car we had initially rented. The rule seemed to be: the nicer the car, the crazier the driver. Coupled with quintessentially narrow European roads, there was absolutely no room for error. One wrong move, and it was game over.
The most entertaining part of driving in Albania is the parking. If you find a spot where you can squeeze your vehicle—even if it’s sticking out into traffic—it’s a parking spot. I was timid at first, not used to this wild, wild west of parking. But soon enough, I was kicking pylons out of the way and wedging our car into places that would make a Tetris champion proud. I’d see someone stop on a busy road, put on their hazards to pick up groceries or coffee, with all of us blaring our horns. Ten minutes later, they’d look out to see what the fuss was about, leisurely pack their bags in the trunk, and carry on like nothing happened. It's a unique blend of chaos and comedy, and somehow, it works.
Albanians are an enigma. They are good-natured Europeans, but you really need to dig deep and peel back those layers of the onion to get to them and their personality. It’s like the country has a tough exterior, thanks to its turbulent history and chaotic driving, but once you peel back the layers, you discover a soft, warm interior. Many years of communism have left a bit of a malaise among Albanians. There’s a sense of unhappiness or a bit of distraught, perhaps exacerbated by the stifling heat or the skyrocketing cost of living for locals. At times, there was a heaviness in the air.
However, as soon as nightfall descends upon the country, it’s like it transfixes everyone. Xhiro, as it’s called in Albanian, is a pastime I wish was replicated in all parts of the world. As soon as dusk hits, the entire city descends onto the local piazza and square to walk, meander, and chat with each other. It is a sight to behold. At times, I wondered how all these people could live here. Where were they during the day? No wonder everyone seemed cranky during the day—it was too hot. But at night, glasses of delicious Albanian white and red wine flow, beer glasses clank against each other, and coffee is sipped over delicious gelato. People are enjoying and loving life, and the sense of community is palpable. I love the evening walks, kids playing soccer in the square, toddlers running around, and just a plain sense of joy. Can you imagine if the whole world lived like this how many of the world’s problems we would solve?
Albania may have a tough exterior with its chaotic driving and concrete bunkers, but once you peel back the layers, you find a warm, welcoming community that knows how to enjoy life. So, the next time someone asks, "Why Albania?" I'll just smile and say, "Why not?
