Every snowy cloud

But so warm inside...

The past few weeks has seen me in full traveller mode. As I've been telling people, 'I'm not chasing rainbows, but heating!'. Given that it was so cold at the start of the year on the island, I was happy to accept an invitation from my lovely friend Lou to go to Zagreb. The apartment there promised wall-to-wall central heating with the added bonus of access to snow. We had a perfect week with various diversions which I will write about as-and-when, so I considered hot options in other capital cities. As Lou sadly flew back to London, I caught the 1950's inspired Niš-Ekspres to Belgrade. After a wonderful week there in a snug modern flat, I needed to head back to Split. So naturally Sarajevo was a convenient half-way stopping point. After another entertaining 7 hour bus trip, here I am.

And this week has been warm and comfortable, physically. I'm back in the flat which I stayed in last year and finally met my host and his family. When travelling is going to plan, it is pleasant and unremarkable. So inevitably for February - my most hated month - there have been some difficult times. For instance, mentally and financially this week has been a perfect trial. I’m ‘stuck’ in Sarajevo waiting for a new pair of glasses. Then last weekend my computer broke, my accommodation became uncertain, I was worried about my friend in Split, suffering heartsickness from the idiot I fell for over the summer – and worst of all the anniversary of my dad’s final illness. Feb and March are usually spent in a melancholy haze when in London. So I’m exploring how I feel in this uncertain time, against a backdrop of worldwide uncertainty. Damn reading the news on a daily basis!

The heart of this blog post was taken from an email exchange with Katy of the Bittersweet Life. I had been talking about my worries. She wisely pointed out, 'and when it comes to your life -- where you are -- the in-between-- feels lonely or confusing perhaps, but you know - that is where we all are. In the in-between ...'. I had been pondering why I was in this most 'in-between' capital, even discussing it with my Split friend. Anyway my laptop drama went some way to illustrate why negatives become positives, when looked at from a different point of view.

So after a computer shop recommendation I went exploring the new part of town which, like everywhere in Sarajevo still exhibits war damage and bullet holes in tall residential buildings. Ladies sit begging for food and pennies, and everyone looks at you with open curiosity. Maybe it’s because I walk with London confidence but perhaps I don’t look as local as I feel in Split or Dubrovnik. As the streets got rougher and the graffiti more disturbing, I only felt more curious about this shop.

As an aside I find that if you have a knowledge of the language, the graffiti becomes meaningful and gives an insight into the local politics and atmosphere. This piece said ‘smrt fegotima’ – as I worked it out, knowing smrt is ‘death’, and the -ima means ‘to the’ (pl), I cringed. Death to faggots. Perhaps some parts of Europe have something in common with Trump and the far right. How can hate of difference form such bonds across continents? 

This shop looked like no shiny computer superstore I’d ever been in. Bearing in mind I hate shopping and think that all transactions should be carried out as quickly and communication-free as possible. Add to the fact that I’m woman buying a computer in a totally male dominated part of the world. I was expecting horror! As I went in there was a row going on but I just looked at the shelves, wanting to see something perfect and go.

The lady sat behind the desk caught my eye and said izvolite? What could she do to help me? Leave me alone and cry... I went over and in English asked if they had any more laptops. She told me to take a seat and being English and given an order, I sat. She carried on arguing with the lady and there was a final door slam as the woman left. She turned and smiled at me, saying apparently this lady wanted a refund on a phone she had had for a year and parts of it had clearly been damaged negligently. She explained that the woman wanted to pick an argument because her husband was being difficult.

Oh.

Whilst debating laptop options with her, we discussed politics, religion, family, prices, new technology and VR and facebook, their new shop, and why I was travelling, and currently stuck in Sarajevo. We talked London, history, places, music... Her view of Trump was ‘many people here in Bosnia are Muslim, why didn’t he ban us too?’ She said her god taught us not to kill, but to love, be peaceful, and care for others. And given that it was the same as Trump’s god, what was the problem with him and Muslims?! My host incidentally has given up joking about Trump and is extremely worried about international business relations. He was also stunned by Brexit and wonders why that when he asks people about it, they are all pro-European! He wonders who voted. One hesitates to comment.

When we finally got round to sales she asked to see my old laptop. I promised to bring it in and they would see if my data was accessible. I left after a couple of hours and I walked back home along the river and through the market. I made an English chicken and mushroom pie for lunch and waited for the call from the shop. When I headed back with the dead computer, I was quite looking forward to seeing them all again. They had fixed me up with windows, an English keyboard, and took my old one apart to rescue the hard drive. Unbelievable service from three people! I finally left the shop at 6.15pm with everything I needed. And the guys thinking I was nuts because I didn’t have any games.

I walked home again thinking that if I hadn’t had this catastrophe I wouldn’t have had so much contact with people. My most interesting parts of being abroad have always been the interactions with others. Even if it is terrifying to step out of comfort zones. People value the exchange of information and views, and it's been great to use apps like Tinder and Facebook to arrange beers and cevapi. I had a wonderful couple of post-work drinks swapping thoughts last night.

Regardless of how low I feel, which admittedly isn't entirely rational at the moment, there are silver linings to every cloud. As I've written about before, it’s so full of colour and detail here, with a raw edge of reality. It’s a good place to be melancholy because you realise how little your problems are, in comparison to the suffering here. After all, the shop assistant’s father was killed in the war. It doesn’t lessen the grief concerning mine, just it comforts me that we are all in this in-between together and we all survive. And live to ponder another day. 

Bussed and bust!

In true British style, I would like to apologise to the people and city of Durrës in Albania. It turns out that you can't travel all night on a bus with a dicky sciatic nerve without some serious consequences. Either that or I'm out of practice at being up all night. After nearly 15 hours sleep and some serious bed rest yesterday, I realise now that getting off at the wrong bus stop in Durrës was probably the least dangerous thing that could have happened. I was certainly in no fit state to run away from trouble, let alone try to explain where I wanted to be! But the exhaustion and pain does mean that I've missed some of the city's classical architectural highlights, evidence of recent struggles, and certainly not done it justice. Once again it's tapas tourism, with a promise to return to this incredible European/non-European country, preferably with company. 

I left Ohrid reluctantly; mostly because of its beauty, but partly due to the 3.30am start. Yes I know, again no rest for the wicked. Sensibly opting for a taxi to the bus station, I had already checked that there was an actual real life bus. Balkans and the Internet are not necessarily reliable witnesses and I was assured that there was a 4.30 bus. I arrived and the taxi driver assumed I was off to Skopje. Dumping my bags I waited. And waited. The ticket office opened and I asked for a ticket for the bus to Durrës. 

What 4.30am bus?

Suppressing an eye roll, I enquired if/when it went. 4.50am. Ok, that I can live with. Carefully stowing my ticket, I went to the waiting room and joined the diverse bunch of people there. Someone asked me when the next bus to Skopje was...another lady asked if I was going to Tirana airport. It must be the air of resigned painful calm on my face that screams 'librarian'! I got chatting with the lady going to the airport because she was on the same bus as me. Finally a minibus/people carrier turned up and the two of us got on board. 

The red neon and gold glittery bus interior barely registered as I collapsed across the back seat. The lady was horrified, and immediately offered paracetamol and ensured my bags were on board. Every. Single. Bump. From Macedonia to Albania went through that nerve and I was pretty much shrieking inside. As I relaxed into the pain and the tablets kicked in, I was able to hold a slight conversation with her. She was heading back to Istanbul after a holiday travelling around the region without her family. Blissful, she said! We talked about London and life, and the unwise judging of people by nationality. 

The border crossing happened, and she held her breath, anticipating issues due to her Turkish passport. We could have been there 3 mins or 3 hours, I think I fell asleep again. All must have been well because we reached our Albanian coffee/loo stop, and I eased myself out of the spangly red cocoon. There was discussion as to where this bus was going and it turns out we were diverting miles to Durrës because of me.  Otherwise they could have gone direct to Tirana. 

Oh. 

As we clambered back on, there was rapid discussion and I was told to get off. The other van at the stop - which happened to belong to the company that I'd emailed the previous day - contained passengers that were going to Durrës. So I was hustled aboard this one, bags popped in the back, yelled at for a ticket, and I waved, boggling, to my friend. This bus was definitely not glistening, it was thoroughly basically and had seen many many miles of mountain road. We took off in a cloud of oil, and I closed my eyes against the dubious overtaking, radio fiddling, and left it all to the hands of fate. 

I think I'm now done with buses for this trip. There will be a train in Italy but my next mode of transport is ferry, so I only have a couple of massive international ports to negotiate. What could be more simple!? 

Overwhelmed in Ohrid

I left you in Kotor wondering if I was going to get out of there, and whether a bus would arrive. The suspense was maintained for at least another half hour, before it turned up; clearly late because it had come straight out of the 1970s. Comfort, style, fashion - all of those buses were going elsewhere. Still, there were no annoying chaps, it was quiet, clean and I was on my way. I'd actually had a very pleasant time in Kotor, a lovely lady called Tracy had given me use of her shower so I was fresh for the 10 hours. We'd shared a beer and compared Balkan notes so it just goes to show that delays whilst travelling aren't necessarily all bad. 

All things considered the journey wasn't bad. Not for the faint hearted, delicate, or easily tired. Which is why I arrived in Ohrid feeling like a teddy bear which had been through a spin cycle. My first experience of Albania was endless curling mountain roads, a bright moon, a dark sky and cold which froze the breath. On a 2am comfort break, one touching episode was the kindness of people on the bus to a polite dog; clearly famished, quivering and nervous he hoovered up every crumb of bread offered. The other memorable episode was the kind Singaporean promising to hold the bus for me as I was last in the queue for the loo - the sympathetic look he gave me when he came out of there told me everything about the cleanliness. Character building...and germs are good, right?! 

My presence on the bus was clearly a matter of some debate and I'm not sure if a bet was won or lost. A lady, who was returning to Ohrid from a holiday in Montenegro asked me where I was from, and a number of people said 'aaaah' in that relieved 'we would never have guessed' way. My new colouring is confusing everyone, not to mention an ability to be friendly. Not a normal Brit apparently. Ok so my warmth didn't extend as far as hugging the guy at an Ohrid garage/service station, but the open and clean toilet was incredibly welcome. 'Gdje je WC' is pretty much the best Croatian/Macedonian I've ever learnt. 

Where was I? Ah yes Macedonia.  Don't be fooled by the Albanian excursion, it's better than coming to Macedonia via Kosovo, so I'm told. It was 5am by the dark deserted bus station, on a wide main road in a strange country. I had no idea where I was going and I was being pestered about a room by an elderly man on a bicycle. Armed with my best 'ne hvala, imam sobi' and google maps I headed into the old part of town. Inevitably the winding roads on the map translated into a steep climb, and a walk through a quiet park. I paused at the top; the pink light was coming over the hills and a call to prayer sounded up from the new town. I was later to discover that these three-hundred-year old mosques were mere new comers to the religious mix of the town. The dreamy atmosphere of the place would have been very much in evidence, even without the sleepless high I was experiencing. 

I entered the town through the ancient and very narrow stone gate, and the fortress rose up to the right of me. A man sweeping the streets looked as if he knew the area and I asked him the whereabouts of 27a ulica ilidenska... again I thanked the language fairies for being able to understand his answer. My host was thankfully waiting for my message as I was arrived and he welcomed me and made coffee. This was the start of a firm friendship, once again, the warmth of people was to leave me totally charmed. After promising me a tour of the city, and pointing out the 4th century basilica mosaics unearthed at the end of his tiny street, he left me to fall face down on the biggest bed I've ever seen. 

The sciatic nerve which had been brewing a storm for a few days finally broke that morning and it has made anxiety of the non-arrival of buses fade into the background. In short, it's been agony for the past 24 hours, leaving me enjoying ibruprofen inspired sofa rest all yesterday morning. I was supposed to be in Durrës but frankly I was going nowhere. My kind host wouldn't let me stay on my own in misery, and after a trip to the colourful food market for fruit, invited me to make myself as comfortable as possible whilst he mended a load of iPhones. I chortled at him as he performed delicate operations on dead technology, saying he was destroying my illusions of what was inside my phone. Surely it's all witchcraft, not shiny odd shaped parts?

However for that first day, it didn't stop me from enjoying a slap up brunch with mandatory homemade rakija, walking all around the captivating little town, getting a proposal of marriage from an elderly guy in speedos on the beach, climbing King Samuel's 10th century fortress, talking opera and Prodigy in the ancient amphitheatre, admiring the truly astonishing newly cleaned frescos in St Mary Peribleptos, and boggling over the recently unearthed mosaics from the early Christian era. 

All I can say is, if you enjoyed Pompeii, Macedonia has its very own smaller version and it's just as impressive and well worth a visit. Finally hunger and thirst caught up with us, and over beer (for me) and Italian brandy (for him) I said I felt guilty for keeping him out site-seeing all afternoon. Apparently he doesn't have many guests that are art history- music- archeology- culture- foody- nuts  so he was just happy to see someone fall for the town he also loves. 

That evening was unwisely for my back  - in hindsight  - spent on a high stool in a cool bar. However nothing can detract from the feeling of this place; the ancient spirits of nature have been here for thousands of years. The classical mosaics whispered of the wild and domestic animals that lived here and were a part of everyday life. The goats, pigeons, pheasants, wild cats, horses, deer, and of course, the fish. Although the landscape has seen such terrible human struggles, still the mountains and water teem with life that is as familiar today as it was then. Everyone should experience the sun setting over Lake Ohrid just once in their lives, and just say thank you for the experience. That's clearly why there are so many churches here...