South Central Greece (Delfi, Thiva, Fili, Pili)

Catching the bus from near Meteora to Delfi was mentally challenging. I did it to get back on schedule, but it meant letting go of biking as much as I could. I have had this mental battle twice already, but it still sucks. I had taken a couple buses and have not regretted it, but it still wasn't easy. I rolled through the Greek countryside, up over the mountains, down to the coast, and then back up some more mountains. On the way, I wondered if I had not made a mistake. Yes, the mountains were huge and my legs were tired, but they were gorgeous, even at night, when I could barely see them. I was really bummed not to be biking them. Such is life. I had already extended my trip a couple times and I need to keep a date at some point.


A treasury at the site of ancient Delfi.
On the bus, I met a couple who had spent a lot of time in Amsterdam. I got a quick dissertation about the biking there. The thing I was most interested in is how they give each other rides on their bicycles. Whenever I have done this in the states, the passenger feels uncomfortable on the rack and gets on while we are stopped. They said that they always get on when the bike is moving and that women usually ride side saddle, but their feet hang instead of resting on the bike. I've tried having someone ride side saddle since then and it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. We didn't dare have them get on while the bike was moving. We'll save that for next time.


The stadium at the top of the Delfi.
I was dropped in Delfi at 10pm at night. There seemed to be two main streets in town. One went east. One went west. They were filled with tourist shops. I almost grabbed a hostel, but pushed on to at least look for a campsite. It was really hard to find one, but I eventually found a spot that would work. It was dark enough that I could not really tell where I was or what I had been passing. When I woke up in the morning, I was in for a treat.


The ruins of the Temple of Apollo, home of the Oracle of Delfi.
I had inadvertently camped at the base of Mount Parnassus, the cliff that towers over the ancient site of Delfi. The entrance to the site was just a half kilometer up the road. The secondary site was just two hundred meters below me. When I woke up, I wanted to get to the site early to avoid the crowds. While I was waiting for the sight to open, the first tour arrived. I am not quite sure why, but I was let into the sight first. I had been the first one there, but even after I went in the tour goup had to wait. I spent the first thirty minutes almost completely alone. It was amazing. The morning light was perfect and there was enough ruins to let my imagination build up what it must have been like to live there.


An extreme version of the sexy pose trend.


The Tholos Temple, Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia.
According to legend, Delphi is the center of the world. Zeus released two eagles from opposite ends of the Earth and they met in Delphi. Unfortunately, modern scientific knowledge says we could do this experiment and get those eagles to meet at any spot of our choosing. Details. Delphi is most famous for its Oracle at the Temple of Apollo. This Oracle was consulted on important matters by many different people To respond, she would go into a trance like state, possibly convulse, and eventually the words of Apollo would be channeled through her to be interpreted by those who heard them.


A town in the Greek mountains.


A distant look at the same town.
After spending a few hours at Delfi, it was time to move on to Thiva (which I could not stop calling by its ancient name, Thebes). The ride there was tough. My legs were tuckered and the mountains were huge. It reinforced my decision to take the bus the day before. These mountains were still amazing. Unfortunately, while I was near the coast, I never actually got to see the sea. There was always another mountain in the way. I was following a eurovelo route, which I slowly changed according to what different locals told me. I was swayed by the words flatter, shorter, and more beautiful. I suspect that since my legs were so tired the first two words would have been enough as long as I was not on a busy highway.


Greek mountains.


A big Greek mountain.
When I finally arrived at Thiva, I was disappointed. There just wasn't much there for me to see. I think the name just got stuck in my head from when I studied Greek history. It really isn't on the tourist trail, but one restaurant does make a fabulous white chocolate banana crepe. After Thiva, I pressed onward to the countryside. I rolled through the flat farmland slowly getting closer to the last set of mountains I would cross before descending to Athens. At the base of those mountains, I settled in for a great sunset and sleep.


Another road side attraction (these mini churches were all over Greece).


A war memorial.
My ride the next morning into Athens was tough because there weren't many road signs at crossroads. I just guessed, doubled back to look for signs for the traffic going the other way, and waited until someone drove by. Eventually, I found my way and was descending into the madness that is Athens. I have heard that Greek drivers are the worst, but I didn't have any trouble until Athens. It was mayhe. When I finally found the tourist area that my hostel was at, I had to get off and walk because it was so busy. There were not many cars, but there were a ton of people. It made all the biking I have done in New York City seem easy.


Greek farmland.


Sunset from my last campsite before reaching Athens.


Parnitha national park near Athens, Greece.

Meteora, Greece

My morning tea house.
After my long haul, I only had 40km to get to Meteora in the morning. However, first I needed to warm up. It had been a cold night and I don't think my body had enough food in it to get warm. I stopped in at the only cafe I could find. It seemed like it used to be a house. The kitchen was not any different from a regular one. It was brilliant. Anyway, I don't know what this guy did, but he did it well. His tea was great. Yum, yum. We didn't speak a lick of each other's languages, but that didn't stop him from being helpful and me from being gratious. It set the tone for a great day.


Greek farmland.


The cliffs of Meteora.
Meteora has one of the largest collections of Eastern Orthodox monestaries. Each monestary is built on a sandstone pillar. At one time the monestaries were deliberately difficult to access via long rope ladders and nets. It required a leap of faith to visit the monestary because the ropes were only replaced when they broke. Today, the monestaries are accessed via bridges and steep stair cases cut into the rocks. At one time, there were over 30 monestaries. Now, there are only six, five inhabited by men, one by women.


The old carpenter's workshop in one of the clifftop monestaries.


A monestary.
The ride up the hill to the monestaries was great. My legs were holding up great and the ride was beautiful. It reminded me a little bit of Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs with these crazy rock formations sticking up everywhere, but these were much bigger. As I rode up, I skipped visiting the first two monestaries. I wanted to get my hill riding done for the day and the better ones were supposed to be up top. I locked my bike up and headed into the first monestary. Beautiful. I was more taken with the views than the history, but such is life. At 2 euros it is a steal, whatever you go for. The monestary felt like a maze. I was never quite sure if I knew where I was. We had almost full access to the place because the monestaries have unfortunately become more of a tourist attraction than anything else. A maximum of ten people live in any single monestary.


Varlaam monestary


Roussanou monestary
As I was visiting the first monestary, it got much, much busier. The tour buses had arrived. With the tour buses came a bunch of black SUVs that had ads all over them like Ewan McGregor's SUVs in Long Way Down. The group was driving the old Silk Road. That has to be an incredible journey. The increased population put a damper on my visit to the second monastery. It just wasn't as quiet and I definitely liked having the first monestary to myself and a few other early birds. Oh well. It was still cool, especially since they were replacing the slate roof and throwing the old ones plummeting down the cliff side with a sudden crash when they hit. The one neat thing about this monestary was that they had a net for access.


Agios Nikolaos monestary


Knive scapel cut cliff.
After visiting the second monestary, I biked toward the last two monestaries. On the way, I met a German couple that I chatted with for a while. I was feeling monestaried out, but they suggested I visit the nunnery because it was much different than the rest. This couple travels each year to Greece in their camper van. They were fantastic and nothing I can say about them will do the experience of talking with them justice. They gave me some dried pears from their garden and the old man gave me a push start on my bike when I finally left. I would be lucky to run into them again.


Video panaroma of Meteora, Greece


Farmland on the way to the bus.
Unfortunately, the nunnery was closed for the afternoon meal or praying by the time I arrived. I just had a quick look at the outside of the last two before heading onward to Delfi. I wasn't sure if I would bike it or bus it. I was behind schedule so decided that if I found the bus station, I would take it. As luck would have it, I had to sprint cycle to the station to catch the last bus for the evening. On to central Greece!



Me.

Biking 200km across Northern Greece

Welcome to Greece!
I hate rewriting things. I somehow lost the first two paragraphs of this post. Grr.

Riding through northern Greece is going to stick with me for a long time. Loaded down with all my gear, I rode my first century and then pushed on to complete my first double metric century. That is 200km or 124 miles. The day before I had done 103km/64mi. The two days after I did 85km/53mi and 122km/76mi. While this is an achievement for me, let me put it in perspective. The Ironman triathalon has a 112mi bike ride, but includes a 26.1 mile marathon run and 2.4mi swim ON THE SAME DAY. The Tour de France only averages 115mi a day, but they do it EVERYDAY for 20/22 days. Those guys are machines.


I do believe this woman is carrying a bazooka.
My ride started in Bitola. It was a quiet 20km to the border. At the border, there was a stray dog. I have no idea if a family could not take the dog across or what, but the dog seemed incredibly friendly. I passed it by and went straight to the checkpoint. After the checkpoint, I pulled out my maps to figure out where I was going. When I did that, I also looked a hundred yards back at the dog wondering what its story was. I went back to the map and the next thing I knew, the dog was beside me. It knew I was a sucker. I gave him some bread and a few pets. As I left, it started to follow me. It was so friendly and just looking for a little love. It pulled at all my heart strings to bike away faster so that it would not follow. Ugh.


The precursor to Primantie Brother sandwiches in Pittsburgh?
As I entered Greece, I learned something new that I was not sure if I really wanted to share on here. It is kind of embarassing, but also pretty funny. I hope that sharing adds a little laughter to your day and maybe saves someone else from making the same mistake. Until I visited Greece, I did not know they still used Greek alphabet. I don't think I have ever seen a full word in Greek that wasn't a pronoun or in the context of being ancient. I barely watched the Athens Olympics. I thought the Greek alphabet died out two thousand years ago. I assumed that since the Romans conquered the Greeks and they gave us the Latin-based alphabet, that the Greeks also used it. I lose. It was really weird to see many Greek letters being used that were not in a crazy formula. The great part is that I still remember enough of my Greek alphabet to figure them out on road signs even if they did not have their Latin counterparts.


Look, the greeks use the Greek alphabet. Who would have thought it?
My first stop in Greece was Florina. It was a tiny bit out of the way, but I needed a map. Near the border, signs indicated a certain hotel was also an information center. As I biked up to the hotel, there was a truck with a megaphone driving through the streets selling potatoes. It was kind of obnoxious, but delivery is a modern convenience that we all want, right? Anyway, when I rolled up to the fancy hotel and information office, the woman did not speak any English. This is not a problem. I just needed a map. She offered me a room. I repeated that I wanted to go to Meteora. She wrote down four town names, gave me a map of the local town, and shooed me out the door. The repeated signs on the highway had said information. I had gone out of my way to get there. I wanted more information. I wanted to at least see a map. I was grumpy, but also realized she might not be able help. I went farther into their lobby and found a hotel guide with a map. I showed her a map that would work for me to make it clear what I was looking for. She said they didn't have any and shooed me out again. I opted to go covert. I stole the map out of the hotel guide book.

Poor form? Yeah. I justified it because they had a bunch of copies and I went out of my way because their sign indicated they were also an information center when they really weren't. An old friend once told me that the people that rules and punishments are made for will never follow them. Also, those who follow the rules, don't need the rules anyway. People do what want they, independent of the rules. When I tried to leave Florina, I could not figure out which way the highway was. A wonderful old man and lady set me straight. It was nice to have a positive experience with a stranger to balance out the negative one.

As I got moving, my road dead ended in an autobahn. This one was clearly labeled no tractors. It said nothing about bikes. I am still a little senstive about taking my bike on after what happend in Slovenia when there were no signs, but this one had a sign and said nothing about bikes. I decided to risk it. It was fine. I think I even had a policeman pass me.


Riding on the Autobahn.
I am having trouble remembering details of the ride since it was over three weeks ago. It was a lot of farmland with mountains in the distance. I approached those mountains, but never had to climb them. The traffic was light. I was able to switch to plenty of side roads as well. As I approached Grevina, the last big town before Meteora, I realized that I had ridden my first century, 100 miles. I decided that was plenty. It was more than I had done on my trip to date and that definitely constituted a long day. Grevina was also adorable and I wanted to spend some time there. They had a central square where families were eating, kids were playing, and it seemed all around fabulous. I found a hotel, asked for a room and was told they were full. I was bummed because biked enough and the town was cute that the 40 euro rate did not even bother me. Unfortunatley, the only other hotel was 5km north of town.

I wasn't willing to go back the way I came so I biked onward. By the time, I found the next hotel I was at 175km with an hour and half of day light left. That hotel wanted to charge me 80 Euros and I couldn't do it. I decided that I would move on to a camp site and try to get the double metric century. After a short climb, I descended into a beautiful gorge. Then, I began to climb. When I got to the other side of the gorge, I started to climb a mountain. When it got to dusk, I was ag 185km and still climbing. When it got dark, I was at 190km and I really struggled with whether to push on. I was passing great campsites left and right and I was just pursuing anarbitrary number. However, there is some pride in those arbitrary numbers, the same with running a marathon or climbing all the 14ers in Colorado. While I have been backing away from these stupid decisions as I get older in life, I decided to push on. To balance out the stupidity of it, I pulled off the road the 10-20 times that a car went by. Part of pushing on was that I expected to be exhausted the next day and wanted to make it easier. At 195km, I finally got to the top of the mountain. I aimed by bike down the hill and coasted. I was worried about hitting a pot hole so I couldn't open up, but I eventually made it. At 200km, I started looking for a campsite. At 200.18km, I found a campsite. It turned out to be a great one. It could have been a ditch and I would have been happy.


The bridge between Grevina and Meteora.
To make up for stopping early in Bitola, I wanted a long day of riding. I was really trying to stick to my schedule. However, I was also having trouble getting my legs underneath me when I started this day of riding. I think it had to do with some head trash about being lonely going on. I had spent a lot of fun days with people (biking with Davida and then with a bunch of people in Albania) and now I was back to solo. That mental crap makes me wonder about being at home instead of traveling. Part of me wonders if I didn't bike so far to make it harder on myself, similar to going last for paragliding. Maybe, I just wanted to get back on schedule. I don't know. I just know that I kept going and eventually found a rhythm.

Macedonia

Welcome to Macedonia!
Macedonia is one of the old parts of Yugoslavia. In order for Macedonia to join the European Union, Greece has insisted they change their name to the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM). Greece feels there is confusion between its own province/state of Macedonia and the neighboring country. Some people take this very seriously. I think it is dumb and say boo for politics. Perhaps, they can call themselves Macedonia, the Second Coming, and birth a new Philip or Alexander. Though, that might get Greece up in arms too.


St. Naum Monestary.
My original plan was to hug the coast line of Greece, but there weren't too many spots there that interested me. My new plan was to pass through Macedonia, using it as a short cut. By cutting through FYROM, it would let me check out Lake Ohrid and see Meteora, Greece while saving me a lot of miles.


Central church at St. Naum's Monestary.
My visit to Macedonia started at Lake Ohrid. My hope was to visit the St. Naum monestary, Galicica national park, and the actual town of Lake Ohrid before heading east to Bitola, and then south to Greece. I took the St. Naum border crossing right by the lake. I think I even saw St. Naum as I crossed the border. However, I had to bike another few kilometers passed it to the driveway that then wrapped all the way back towards the border before I was allowed to check it out.


The ornate rooftop of the church.
Near the start of the driveway, a man asked me to get off my bike. He said it was because it was a monastery. The monastery was at least a kilometer down the road. The driveway was just fifty tents of people selling their tourist crap. At the end of it was peace and quiet. It was wonderful. The front grounds were fountains, sculpted plants, peacocks, and two girls taking photos of themselves in sexy poses in front of everything, including a non-sporty red car. They might have trying to out do the peacocks. As far as I know, these sexy poses are a recent trend. I never noticed them before when I was traveling. Someone told me it is a Eastern European thing. It makes me laugh. I need to start doing that, but I have no idea what my sexy pose would be. Maybe, I'll borrow Blue Steel.


Peacocks on the grounds of St. Naums.
The monastery was much smaller than it looked. The largest building was occupied by a hotel. Another one was a restaurant. Another one was quarters for people who lived there. We were only allowed to stroll the grounds and, for a fee, to visit the church. I don't if it was the lake or the juxtaposition of people trying to sell their crap, but it was beautiful and serene. While I was there, I met a guy on a bike tour. He had come all the way from Bulgaria, just to visit this monestary. I wish I had taken a picture of him and his gear. His gear was made out of the material they use for 'hippy' bags. He also had two extra tires.


Looking out over Lake Ohrid.
After soaking up the scenery, it was time to move. I biked all the way, passed the guy who had told me to get off the bike, and towards the main road. On the way, I thought I was going to have my first major run in with dogs. A pack of four or five came running out of the woods. I saw a fence between them and me and was not too worried until I realized there was a hole in the fence right where we were going to meet. Crap. I biked faster. My legs complained, but I out paced them and then took a long breather.


Kicking back.


Lake Ohrid.
I needed that breather to get ready for my big climb of the day. I was heading uphill 1100m into Galicica National Park. On the way, I'd get better and better views of Lake Ohrid. At the top, I'd continue back down to the town of Lake Ohrid, or at least I would have if I did not miss the turn. I saw the road. I just didn't realize that the road I would be taking would be a dirt one so I ignored it. By the time that I realized I had made a mistake, I was already three-quarters into my descent to Lake Prespa. I started back up the hill, but I was completely unmotivated to climb the mountain again. Also, some gnats were pestering me so I just said screw it. I had heard good things about the town of Lake Ohrid, but it will have to wait. I'm adding it to the next time list. That list is getting bigger and bigger.


The road I was supposed to take is somewhere up there.


Lake Ohrid.
Lake Prespa treated me well. The roads were great and there wasn't litter everywhere, but that might just be comparing it to Albania. On its own, it was beautiful, not well trafficked, and led me through apple orchards. Everything about that day felt like fall in Pennsylvania. The leaves were starting to change colors. The apples were ready to be picked (which I did). The temperature was right. The smell was right. I started seeking out apple cider, but didn't find any. The whole scene definitely made me a little homesick.


Lake Prespa


Apple orchards.


Random house.
Eventually, I made it to Bitola, the capital of southern Macedonia. It straddles the Dragor River. I rode in on one side of the river and back out on the other. In town, I found the main street pretty quickly. It was a pedestrian thoroughfare which made biking a challenge. I had intended to just stay there for dinner, but ended up staying the night. It had a great feel about it. I can't really explain what it was. The two distinct things that I do remember were all the 20-something cool kids were in the two adjacent bars. Most of the other bars were empty. Also, when I got lost looking for lodging, a woman responded to my request with 'What's that?' which led me to believe I was just saying a Macedonian word wrong, but she did speak Engligh. It turned out that it was her only response to anything I said. I eventually just biked away. I said goodbye. She asked what's that. Oh, one last thing, almost all of my Internet access in Albania and Macedonia came at Playstation 3 centers. They have one or two computers and then a ton of PS3's for online play.


Central square in Bitola, Macedonia.


The slowly changing colors of fall in Bitola
The next morning after a beautiful 10 hour sleep, I was up way too early and waiting for breakfast. To pass the time, I turned on the television. I think overhalf of the stations were in English which mirrored the way it was in the rest of the old Yugoslav Republics that I visited where I saw TV (Slovenia and Croatia). It may teach their youth English, but seems a little weird to me. Anyway, breakfast was going to be too late, so I skipped it and had a quiet ride to the Greek border.


I love that gummy snacks are marked as Halal (safe for Muslims).

Southern Albania (Berat, Pogradec, and Lake Ohrid)

Biking home with dinner.
After my rest day, I was ready to go. I got packed up and woke up Cynthia, a fellow Coloradan, up to see if she still wanted to go biking with me. She thought it would fun. I was wary since she didn't bike that much and tried to warn her, but she said she ready. I figured I had given her the details and she had made an educated decision. Later on, we discussed that she heard 60-70km instead of 60-70 miles. Before this ride, the most she had ridden was around 30miles, but she did it and did it pretty well. To read her take, go here.


A standard small town with almost all men.


Mud can be fun, honest.
The conditions were not looking great, but with taking a day off and taking a detour, I couldn't sit still anymore. We set off for the coast on a side road so we would not be on the busiest road in Albania. As we got closer to the coast, we encountered our first hills and our first drizzle. By the time we hit the coast at Durres, the old capital, we had rain. Then, we turned south onto the highway. There was a lot of traffic, but we were able to use service roads for some of it. One of those service roads was still being built and was covered in clay that I am still scraping off my bike. If we were on the highway, it was smooth though. That wasn't the case for the service roads. They had mud and potholes. All of these put together would have made for one of my worst days of riding if I had not had company.


Fruit stands on the highway (Photo by C. Ord)


The Balkan nations have the curious custom of building long lasting roadside memorials. I am not sure if the body is near there or if that is just the scene of the death or some other option.
Cynthia hadn't eaten any and I was not thrilled about her trying to do bike so much on just bread. Also, since the conditions were miserable, it seemed like a good idea for a morale stop. I walked right into the cafe, but they would not let Cynthia in. They directed her direcly to the lavazh special where she was supposed to hose herself down. Brilliant. There are so many things you can communicate without knowing the language.


Sing it . . .At the car wash, at the car wash yeah . . . (Photo by C. Ord)


Lavazh special? This is not suggestive.


You might think this sign means don't ride your bike here, but the gas station attendant says otherwise. Ride on. (Photo by C. Ord)
After a long breakfast which included a hot chocolate that was thicker than a milkshake, it was time to get moving. The first thing we did is hose some of the clay off our bikes. Then, we hit the road for some easier riding. We were moving pretty well until we got to an autobahn. The sign clearly said 'No Bikes.' The gas station attendant across the way said no problem and told us to keep moving. We saw two other bikers, including an old guy going the wrong way on the road. Gas station attendant one. Sign zero.


Potholes.


These potholes are ridiculous. (Photo by C. Ord)
I don't remember too much from the last third of the ride. A headwind picked up to round out the full list of biker woes. Cynthia started to fade, but she kept pushing on. I encouraged and harassed her until we made it. We were both pretty happy when Berat finally appeared. Once we were done, Cynthia said she felt like she had paid someone to take her on an adventure trip. I might need to consider that as a line of work. For me, it was just a day's ride. It could be easier than I think.


These kids rode a couple kilometers with us doing tricks and almost wrecking all the way. (Photo by C. Ord)


Berat!
Berat is two cities, the quaint beautiful part you read about in tour guides and the ugly regular city around it. Stick to one and you'll enjoy it. Go to the other and you'll take a pass. The one you should visit is two collections of white Ottoman houses climbing up hills with one of them ending at a castle. On the castle side of the river, there are restaurants, roads, and cars. The other side of the river is more residential. There are almost no cars because the cobblestone streets are not wide enough. That is where are hostel was surrounded by whitewashed walls and tile roofs.


Arriving at Berat, Albania. (Photo by C. Ord)


The lawn mower at Berat Castle. (Photo by C. Ord)
We checked into the one hostel available in town and got a double room. It is so nice to travel with someone else. Usually, for just one or two Euros more, you can get a private double room instead of being tossed into the dorm with who knows how many people. That lets you spread out and usually get a better night's sleep. Yet another reason I need to find someone to go on these trips with me.


Our room at the Berat Backpacker.


Berat residential streets.
We went up to the castle to catch sunset. The castle, Kalasa, surrounds an old neighborhood called Kala. It is beautiful to look at, but there was one very large problem that permeates all of Albania. Garbage. I don't think there is any official garbage disposal in the country. I have heard a number of reasons why, but the gist is this. Under communism, there were huge fines for littering and almost everything was recycled. After communism, the people are lashing out a bit like a teenager in their first year at college. The second reason is that with the open market, a lot of money poured into the country which allowed them to buy more new goods. Before everything was reused, but now used items are tossed out the window. One garbage can on the main street of Berat had a bottom. The rest were rusted out. We watched cafe owners empty bags in the street. The final straw for me was seeing a UNESCO World Heritage site, the castle, have a pile of garbage as tall as the castle wall piled against it. Yuck. A lot of Albanians don't understand why they aren't in the EU yet, but things like this explain it in a hurry.

Other than the garbage, the castle was great. Sunset was amazing. At dinner, I tried to do something I have not done since living in the US, customize a dinner order. The waiter knew just enough English to let us order a half and half a pizza and pasta order. It was fabulous. The next day, we were supposed to do a bunch of stuff, but it didn't happen. We hiked to some ruins, strolled around town, found a turtle, and enjoyed a slow day. It was wonderful to really take a breath before heading out for the next adventure.


A turtle in Berat.


Berat.


The countryside behind Berat.
As luck would have it, the next adventure came sooner than expected. There was no bus. I have no idea why. Some people at the bus station spoke both languages and could not figure it out. The schedule said there was a bus. A bus was labeled with my town. Yet, there was no bus. I looked at taking other buses and biking farther, but eventually just scraped it. I chose the path of least resistance. I would catch a 4:30am bus the next day and take it all the way to Pogradec on Lake Ohrid instead of half way there. I was irritated, but it ended up being serendipitous.


Cynthia and I at Berat Castle. (Photo by C. Ord)


Berat at night.
There were more people at the hotsel that I knew and we had a great night. We ate food. We did 'the tour' that Albanians seem to do every night where they dress up in their finest and walk on the main street. I don't know why they do this, but they do. It was great to see and even greater to see the attention our shenanigans drew. Somewhere in our tour, we rode bumper cars. So much fun. I have not done those in over a decade. Also, we got ice cream, but this was different that my usual ice cream. It was medicinal for Wilma. Her throat hurt and her doctor prescribed ice cream three times a day to reduce swelling. We wanted her to drink hot tea, but she was having none of it. I don't know if ice cream works, but I might need to switch doctors. Perhaps, that will fix my shoulder too.


Berat Castle.


Berat Castle at night.
Odds and ends. At the hostel, there was a Norwegian who worked on the Israel Lebanon border for NATO. He is basically doing the same trip as me, but on buses. He said that I should have no problem visiting southern Lebanon which I had planned to avoid, but am now considering it. The bridge over the Osum River that connects the two sections of white houses in Berat has a blue light underneath. It is very Las Vegas and incredibly tacky.

I am curious what people, particularly Americans my age and older, think when they see the Albanian flag. It is a deep red with a two headed eagle emblem on it. My first instinct when I see this flag is to think negative thoughts. I believe it is tied into the dark red background that is similar to that of the USSR, China, and other 'evil' nations. I realize that notion is complete crap. Albania is not even on most Americans radar as existing, let alone being evil. Does anyone else have this instinct when they see the flag? In Tirana, there was a German who had the same impression.


Flag.


Sometimes they call themselves Facebook centers instead of Internet cafes. That is scary.
Under Hoxha's rule, he wanted enough bunkers built for everyone in Albania. That resulted in around 750,000 concrete bunkers being built around the nation. Some have been removed. Some have been converted. One became a tattoo parlor. Others are garbage bins or toilets. Lonely Planet says they are a quiet place to get away with your lover. The story goes that they can withstand a full tank assault and to prove it, the lead engineer had to stand in one while it was bombarded.


Bunker.


Lake Ohrid.
After catching a bus to Pogradec, I biked towards Macedonia along the shores of Lake Ohrid. Before I left town, I stopped at a pastry shop to spend the rest of my coins. I got some ridiculous yummy stuff and some ridiculously weird stuff. Unfortunately, they put it in a box which made it pretty hard to bike with. The strangest one was something I thought was a cupcake. It turned out to be just be a whipped cream like substance that was rolled in something to make it look breaded. That was too sugary, even for me. Next up, a day in the Former Yugoslov Republic of Macedonia.


Me. (Photo by C. Ord)