Day 1: As my body flew and crashed into the pavement, my immediate response was simply to get up as quickly as possible—there was a train to catch.
There’s always a train to catch, places to be, and people to see. I’m wondering when I’ll stop running. For now, the benefits still outweigh the costs of taking such risks. One scuffed-up knee is worth not missing a flight–a flight to Albania, a place I’m still unsure why I’m visiting.
With all that running, I have to remind myself to take a breath, because even after my feet have finally stopped moving, it seems my mind has chosen to take on its own adventure. I’m thinking about the last few weeks and how maybe I’m not cut out for relationships; perhaps people that are always running are better suited to stay by themselves. Besides, I’m never in one place long enough to find out. As I begin to ponder all of this, I’m standing in another security line (apparently there are two when you’re leaving the EU?), holding my overpriced airport sandwich (a tonkatsu burger if you were wondering), and I found out from my new friend in the line that our flight has been delayed.
All that running and our flight was delayed! Is it too late to turn around and run home?
Another breath leaves my lips, and I remember it’s been forever since I’ve meditated. What have I been doing? Maybe Albania is the place I can get back to all these pieces that have fallen to the wayside. I plan to write too, hence why these words are here. I can’t be certain, but I feel like I’m going through a bout of writer’s block or maybe some people call this being depressed? I just feel so detached from the voice inside of me that has something to say.
Traveling has always been the perfect remedy. Maybe it’s my need to run and exhaust myself in the pursuit of knowledge and experiences outside of myself. I’m bored of being sad and despondent over something so trivial as love and boys. Thankfully, now safely in Tirana, Albania, I can feel travel’s effects already. My body feels lighter, despite the weight of my backpack, and the taste of köfte and Greek salad make my taste buds so happy. There’s no perfect solution other than to keep moving, and that’s a lesson I’ve learned primarily through my travels. There are places to be and new people to meet!
Day 2: I’m on the rooftop of my hostel, rocking in a hammock. Last night was relatively quiet. After a late dinner, I checked into my room and I was told there would be fireworks at 12am. I assumed they’d go on for a while, but by 12:01 am they were done (quite odd, no?). I set out on my first journey today to Berat, a UNESCO heritage site. I didn’t start doing research about Albania until yesterday, which invariably shapes the kind of chaos I’ve thrown myself into. There’s something poetic though about simply letting decisions meet you and having life help shape your experiencess. Instead of planning everything out to the tiniest details, I’d much rather be pleasantly surprised.
I’m intrigued by the amount of old men staying here. Are they on vacation, do they live here? They don’t appear to be with any family. I struggle to imagine an older me, particularly because of the lack of representation. I know I’m far from a pioneer, but it feels like I’m forging my own new way of living. I only hope to be given the grace to age smoothly and not feel abruptly deprived of my youth. .
Later in the day: On the bus now to Vlorë!
Berat was beautiful but I’m already regretting my shoe choice—it turns out Albanian streets and platform crocs are not a match made in heaven. I think I scarred this French family for life after subjecting them to the image of me twisting my foot entirely in my shoe while sliding down some stone steps.
Feeling slightly less emo than this morning, if for nothing else than the fact that everything has fallen into place perfectly. My bus from my hostel to the bus station dropped me off right in front of the bus to Berat. While exploring the city’s castle, I ran into the cutest cafe overlooking the most beautiful landscape. Moreover, I arrived back at the station after exploring just in time for a bus to Fier, only a short drive from my final destination.
Fier was slightly underwhelming and also annoying. No one could tell me where the bus station was, and for a good reason I suppose. Apparently, the only way to Vlorë from there is by taxi or microbus, and microbuses only leave when they have enough people. Having a book to read helped pass the time by, and there’s nothing like reading about the collapse of Western civilization to really give you some perspective.
I made it to Vlorë in time to catch the sunset from this quiet part of the beach near my hostel. In those moments of calm, when my thoughts can only go as far as the colors that my eyes can see, it can feel like everything else melts away. I’ve still been running this whole trip it feels like, but at least I can recognize that, and finally really appreciate sitting still.
Day 3: Though it wasn’t my plan exactly, I’ve made it to Gjirokastër! I woke up at 8 and had yummy pancakes provided by my hostel. There are so many French people here so I’ve gotten the opportunity yet again to stumble through my French skills. I set out for some beach time after a little edible moment and had the best time. I found a quiet spot and the water was perfect. Finally! The Albanian Riviera vacation I didn’t even know I was dreaming of.
Again, fate intervened and my late return to the hostel post-beach gave me just two bus options if I wanted to go south. At first, I was bummed because I had a plan to go to Dhërmi and see another beach sunset. Then, I found out the bus would be going to Gjirokastër (or almost lol), another place on my bucket list. After having to turn back and pick up two people that were accidentally left at a rest stop, we were unceremoniously dropped off a few minutes outside of the city. This was not the original plan, but we pivoted and there was another microbus to take me and all these French people to our final destination.
The trek to my hostel was totally worth the view of the city and the mountains that jut into the sky. I watched the sunset behind the mountains at a bar while I read a new book, Victoria Holt’s Kirkland Revels. It was a random find from the hostel in Tirana, but it’s keeping me quite entertained.
Day 4: Well, it wouldn’t be a proper trip if there wasn’t a dash of racism and ignorance. This man wouldn’t let me on the bus without looking at my passport, which I found immediately suspicious. I’ve been on so many buses over the past few days and not once has someone asked to see my passport. Even in the hostels, my plain ID has worked as a form of identification. According to another new friend I made on the bus, they’re not allowing Syrians or Palestinians to ride on the bus?? The whole experience has left a sour taste in my mouth, which is unfortunate given the otherwise cute day I’ve had.
Before recapping that: Last night’s lamb chops didn’t agree with me, which is funny given the lengths I went to secure said lamb chops. I waited almost two hours and watched what I can only describe as an Albanian traditional restaurant gang war. These guys pulled up in a car and just started throwing punches.
Anywho, I started today with breakfast made by Rita, the owner of the guesthouse I’m staying at. My stomach was still a little wonky, and I also started playing this song that now reminds me of my ex for some reason—so not the best moment. I remedied all of this by going to the castle, which is one of the main highlights of the city. I am officially over the cobblestones and brick-clad streets of Albania! My ankles are the real heroes of this trip for somehow holding upthat . Still, I also explored the bazaar, which originally started up by the castle and then moved down to its current location; it also helps make Gjirokastër another UNESCO heritage site and well worth visiting! I wound up running into a lot of the people from my bus yesterday, which was super wholesome.
I went back to my room and finished packing. As I went to pay, this man, whom I can only assume to be Rita’s husband, and a friend we’re taking shots of Raki. Mind you, it’s 11am and my body is far from peak performance, but like how one can always find room for dessert, I somehow managed to take a shot with them.
Next, I was off to the bus station and again made it in time for the bus I was looking for. It was so hot, but for the first part of the trip I was able to stretch out. We made it to Saranda and I had an hour to spend at the beach (and also check out the random Hillary Clinton statue) before catching another bus to Himarë. In a way, my day was mostly spent at the beach with brief interludes spent on buses (low key how I’d describe my trip honestly). I can’t help but wonder how many summers we have left that we will actually be able to enjoy, especially given the understanding that there are people who are already suffering from inhospitable climates.
Day 5: My last day in Albania started with the person in the top bunk next to me falling out of bed. They were ok thankfully, and it was honestly the wake-up call I needed to get up lol
As I packed my stuff up to head to catch a bus from Himarë to Tirana for my flight, it struck me how comfortable I’ve grown in my skin. I remember traveling for the first time years ago and feeling like I could not have been more displeased with spending time with myself. It was another wake-up call–a very rude one at that. For so long, the answer seemed to be seeking out the comfort of others; potentially even just noise to fill the void. Now here I am, traveling through Albania and my favorite moments have been those I’ve kept for myself.
I try to not have expectations when traveling, and this trip was no different. However, I was surprised by not only the warmth of Albanians, but also how empowering it can be to take up space as a Black and queer person in a place where people have likely never seen much of either identities. I was lucky to not have any bad experiences, and I recognize that’s not always the case for everyone. When I think of my history, traveling and running to all these places and people, I see now I might have really been running away from these vulnerable and visible parts of myself. They’re the first things you see when you see me, and perhaps it simply felt easier at the time to keep moving and not think so squarely on why it is I was given the honor to be all these things that much of the world still doesn’t quite understand (I mean I don’t get it all the time either lol). Now it feels like I’m running toward myself. Each day, each moment, I’m just itching to get closer and closer to this place that I’m certain to never arrive at, but the stops along the way keep getting sweeter and sweeter. Did I go to Albania and have way too many free shots of Raki? Yes. But did I also gain a little more insight into how much I love myself, my body, and my journey? Hell yes, and I have the memories to prove it.
