Tirana, Berat, & From the Heart in Albania

“Eyes are too precious to take risks with.”

Before we left Britain, the vision in my right eye occasionally went cloudy, as if someone had smeared it with Vaseline. Between racing around the country, trip preparations, waiting lists for appointments, and sorting out my dad, I hadn’t managed to see anyone about it. Once we were abroad, an online chat with Specsavers told me what I already knew.

I needed to visit an optician in Albania.

Generally, we avoid large cities, but our best chance of an English-speaking practitioner meant a visit to the capital, Tirana. Our plan was to do our shopping at The Q Centre, then stay overnight in a quiet corner of the car park, but it was not to be. We got moved on at 9.30 p.m., in the dark. It was too late to find a campsite, so after a short drive around the grim industrial hinterlands, we parked up in a side street. It felt uneasy. Who wants to spend the night in the back streets of any city, let alone Albania’s capital? But as Mark said,

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

It was a sultry night. For security reasons and as a vague nod to stealth, we closed all the windows at the rear and on the highway side of The Beast. The temperature remained a sticky 35°C all night.

The following morning, we arose at 06.45 to relocate to the Tirana Eye Clinic for my 11 a.m. appointment. I’m glad we left plenty of time. Three miles through crazy city traffic took two hours.

Albanians are lovely people, but as a local told us later, they don’t back down. This seems to apply especially when driving. Drivers refused to get out of the way of an ambulance. Then, a cacophony of furious hooting berated Mark as he stopped to allow a few cars to dribble out from a huge car conga that was trying to leave an early morning fruit market.

Over a delicious breakfast omelette in a café near the eye clinic, we spied Alban and his beautiful white Malamut, Bora. Alban came over to say ‘Hi’ and told us he had a doggie grooming salon across the road.

I left for my eye appointment. The air conditioning gave me goose pimples as I entered a glass fronted high rise with a modern, clinical white interior. Dr. Lula spoke fluent English, which was unsurprising since he had studied opthamology at University College London. He diagnosed that some humour had detached in my eye. It was not urgent, and I would just have to live with it, since there was nothing to be done.

I met up with Mark at Alban’s grooming salon.

We spent a few hours with Alban. He shaved the pups’ tummies to keep them cool, and our conversation was very enlightening.

“I was in the Albanian army and was kidnapped three times. I sought asylum in England and lived there for a few years. People looked down on me. They thought I was a scrounger, but I worked as soon as they granted me a work permit. All I ever wanted was to come home to Albania.”

In recent years, criminality among Albanian refugees has gained the nation a rather bad name on British shores. Completely matter-of-fact, Alban explained the shocking truth.

“It costs €25,000 to get to the UK illegally,” he said.

“What? There’s a going rate?” It took me aback.

“Oh yes, but it’s funded by drug gangs. So, then you find yourself in the UK illegally. You have no documents. You can’t work – but you owe the gang twenty-five-thousand euros. You’re in complete thrall to them. So, you have no choice but to do what they say. The UK government knows about it, but they tolerate it. The black market keeps things going in a recession.”

Then, he offered a further insight into the Albanian psyche.

“A security guard at Heathrow played car tag with me. He flashed me to pull over. When I got out of the car, he backed down, though. He knew I’d carry it through. Albanians never back down.”

Alban was certainly a tough cookie. He’d been through a lot, but he loved his dogs. In the square outside his parlour, we saw he’d put out food for the strays. He reassured us that the tagged dogs were neutered, and recently, there was less poisoning. He sent us on our way with a gift – some special dog brushes to make grooming The Fab Four easier, and a personal introduction should we ever want to contact the supplier.

Despite all this, the day’s medical responsibilities weren’t quite over, however. Our next stop was yet another trip to Fier for the vet to remove Kai’s stitches. Finally, Kai had a clean bill of health, and could go swimming. In such sizzling temperatures, we really needed to be by the water.

Dr. Andi also checked Ruby and Lani. They both had grass darts in their ears again, and Ruby had developed bald patches on her back. Dr. Andi took me into a dark room and showed me Ruby’s back under ultraviolet light. Specks of fluorescence on her skin indicated a fungal infection. The cause could be sun-related dermatitis, or the poor-quality dry food, which was all we’d been able to buy in the south of Albania. Alban had already given us chlorhexidine shampoo to treat her, but Dr. Andi went further.

Besides saving Kai’s life, we have many reasons to thank Dr. Andi.

He gave us a lecture on dog food and inspected the kibble we bought at InterSpar in Tirana. They sold brands we knew, such as Pedigree and Purina.

“Stop feeding them chicken-based food,” Dr. Andi said. “It can cause allergies.”

We thought chicken was low fat, healthy, and easy to digest. Yet, since we switched to lamb, Kai has had virtually no stomach problems, and Ruby has been a much less itchy dog!

After such a long day, we decided the easiest thing was to return to Riverside Camping in Berat for a chill. The owner, Bona (Valbona), was delighted to see us again.  

The site was less busy, so we proved that we’re under 3.85 m high by fitting underneath the shades, which were marked at 3.85 m. On our previous visit, there was no shade available, but with humidity above fifty per cent and the temperature knocking on the door of 40°C, even partial shade was welcome. The sun was so strong, just one of our four solar panels easily kept our batteries charged.

We did our laundry and had a long, luxurious shower. The heat was such that even when resting, we needed to shower about three times a day. If we actually did anything, we needed a shower immediately.

I asked Bona about the searing weather. She said,

“It’s unusual so early in the year (June), but this heat is common in Albania at the height of summer in July and August.”

We had an apricot tree next to us – the apricots were the most delicious I’ve ever tasted. We had them on our breakfast every morning. The Land Rover next door belonged to a Czech couple from Pilsen. Naturally, they took their beer seriously. As we enjoyed our apricots and muesli, the chap raised his glass to us as he enjoyed a cold one for breakfast.

The following evening, we arranged a rendezvous with Miranda, whom we had met at the vet’s a few visits ago, with her husband Edi, son Bruno, and their little dog.

As we chatted with Miranda and her sons at the excellent Piazza restaurant, a squad van with blue lights flashing suddenly screeched to a halt across the green. An armed policeman with a gun bulging in his hip holster vaulted over a few low walls and rushed towards us.

I felt like shouting, “Get DOWN!” but it wasn’t a police raid.

It was Edi, Miranda’s husband, who is a special policeman.

He greeted us with a huge grin.

“I’m on shift, so I couldn’t join you,” he explained. “But I wanted to come and say hello!”

It was quite an entrance!

Once we’d finished eating, three sweet little Roma girls came begging for the remains of my pizza. Just a few bits of soggy crust, since once I was full, I’d picked off the delicious topping. They wolfed it down as though it were the finest feast. They didn’t bother us again, but when we saw them walk past later, we called them over. We gave them our change, which amounted to about 1.50 lekë each – around £3 in total.

I watched them run down the road, then peer into their palms to inspect their haul. Once they counted it, they all did a happy dance. I felt humbled by how much joy some leftover pizza crust and a few pounds could bring.

Earlier, Alban had said,

“The Roma have more money than me!”

In Tirana, we saw Roma going through the bins, looking for plastic or aluminium cans to sell. In Berat, an elderly man pushed a trolley full of garbage that he’d collected from the bins down the street. They looked anything but wealthy to me.

Back at the camp, we realised Rosie was jumping with fleas.

We think they might have leapt on to her as we spent the afternoon shaded by trees, near to where we’d seen some cats and kittens. Thankfully, the other dogs and the truck were clear of insectular visitors, but we topped up everyone’s flea and worm treatment just in case. In the heat, Rosie seemed to enjoy her shampoo.

As she sent us on our way, Bona held both hands over the left side of her chest. I will never forget what she said, because she meant it absolutely sincerely.

“From my heart, I wish you a good trip. From my heart.”

From my heart, I couldn’t wish to meet kinder or more welcoming people than the citizens of Albania.

Join us next time as we make a decision on one of Albania’s most dangerous roads.