Back to the UK to warm up, where cold is better understood than Greece.
We always start with a visit to Liverpool. To prevent overstaying our welcome and limit school week distraction, we did 2 quick dog sits in the Liverpool suburbs
Formby was our first sit. Highlights:
It was near the Red Squirrel preserve, nice place to walk the dogs. Gray squirrels are crowding out the native red squirrels. Unfortunately, we did not see one. Fun fact, gray but not red squirrels like hazelnuts so contraceptive-laced hazelnut butter is being trialed. https://www.wildlifetrusts.org/where_to_see_red_squirrels
The owners preteen kids were nervous about meeting us because they had never met Americans before.
This family had done day trips to Spain- early morning flight out of Liverpool, a walk and dinner in Alicante, then evening flight back. With discount airlines, cheaper than a night out in Liverpool.
Next up was on the Wirral peninsula, the Irish sea side of the Mersey river. Our sit in New Brighton might have been one of our favorite sits. Two big English style golden retrievers (more like hairy labradors), exceptionally nice hosts, comfortable and fun house plus a wonderful elderly neighbor named Ken-who the dogs demanded to visit on each walk. The town was cute too.
Train stationSymbol of the townGift bag, tons of GF snacks plus she made us scouse-Liverpool stew
From Liverpool we took a day trip to Chester, which is a perfect storybook version of an English town. We walked the city walls around the cathedral, passed the horse racetrack, strolled along the river, looked over the ruins of a Roman amphitheater (in most European cities it seems) and looked over the super cute main street.
River Dee diverted into canalsPerfect field trip to a medieval citySince 1539
We wrapped up this trip with a packed short stay in Manchester. Everything was better than expected. The museums were particularly good; the traditional Manchester museum at the University, the European museum of the year https://www.museum.manchester.ac.uk
The People’s History Museum, the national museum of democracy (oh so needed now) https://phm.org.uk
Patricia’s favorite, the Manchester Art Gallery (https://manchesterartgallery.org) which had a wide variety of pieces, with the information placards next to the pieces just as varied; some traditional descriptions, some written by 8 year old visitors, some a comment on a current event of the time, others gossip about a piece or observations by the museum’s security staff.
Public art also totally hit the mark
“Victory Over Blindness,” WW1 soldiers. Of the 77,000 War Memorials in the UK, this is the ONLY one to honor men disabled in war.
We really hated to leave Europe again, but two of our favorite people were getting married, so we were very happy to go on to Los Angeles.
Nafplio was a 6 night finale to our month in Greece. We took a very scenic, twisty bus ride, from Pyrgos to Nafplio with a stop at every village, no matter how narrow the road. The ride ended with a very dramatic approach as we reached the Argolic gulf.
Nafplio is a star on the ex-pat and Peloponnese travel sites, so expectations were high, but so were the winds and the temperature kind of low. The high expectations coupled with no heat in our apartment, may have tempered our enthusiasm but things did improve when the lodging owner, after 3 days, had told us that yes, the solar heated water could be warmed if we just flipped the switch in the bathroom, but yes heat is very expensive in Greece, so, if possible don’t use it. And, BTW the apartment heater doesn’t work. Yeah ,we noticed. Greek buildings are not built for temperatures in the 40’s. The apartment was lovely though with lemon trees in the garden. But the travel guides were right when they praised the Italian architectural influence, the beaches, the restaurants,
and the proximity to ruins and the islands. We don’t really know about the restaurants (we did walk by a lot) and winter denied access to the islands but we did appreciate the nearby prime archeological sites.
As mentioned, they are typically built at the highest point in an area, using stones larger than cars, appear to defy gravity and are still or partially standing after thousands of years; attesting to the engineering aptitude of the builders. Whereas, we struggle to construct an Ikea coffee table and have it last longer than a Swedish summer. Another chapter in the big book of astonishment and embarrassment for us.
We learned the official word to describe these structures made of giant rocks, Cyclopean, meaning only giant Cyclops could have built them https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyclopean_masonry. So all our architectural questions answered. Mystery solved. The area around Nafplio is prime cyclopean country, easily explored by bus or by foot.
First stop was Tiryns, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiryns, a straight 4 km shot north of the Lidl market, with a good mix of sidewalk, dirt path, wide roads and curse-worthy thorn filled paths on narrow roads. A collage of our Greek walks, but as always, worth it. Another salute to winter travel, Tiryns was just us and 2 middle aged British guys.
The tombs were a kilometer or two away from the ancient city, but these tombs were not just off the main road rather they were nestled in orange groves which were nestled in a residential area. While the tomb was noted in blogs and guides, it was pretty hidden and it was an absolute gem.
Plus we ended up with a few oranges. Very tasty, not street oranges.
backpack full of oranges
Our second trip was to Mycenae (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mycenae). A bus dropped us off just outside of the town of Fichti. Taxis waited at the bus stop, but why take a taxi when you can walk 3 miles, uphill. Our politely stated preference for walking, shocked the persistent taxi driver who now had to change his vision of Americans from lazy to crazy. It was a great walk, primarily because we were joined by a dog, who happily led us on a leash free stroll right up to the Tomb of Agamemnon.
Like the tombs at Tiryns, the Tomb was just outside of the ancient city site .
And the city was huge, able to easily accommodate the school and tour groups, which we had not seen at really any of the other sites outside of Athens.
The pictures are better at doing the heavy lifting of describing the ruins.
There were other sites- some we could see from the road (Castle of Argos) and a few others a bit further away, but still doable, but we decided to spend our last few days in Greece exploring Nafplio and its 3 supermarkets, happy to have a kitchen and not constantly on the move. However, due to an unrealized mixup at the checkout, we ended up with a kilogram (2.2 pounds) package of spaghetti noodles that had spilled over on the conveyor belt from the order before us. Since Patricia doesn’t eat wheat, it became spaghetti week for Nick. Doing the math (Nick is always willing) that was 167 gm of spaghetti a night. A normal serving size 75-100 grams. A six night marathon of Cyclopean portions of spaghetti. Carbo loading for no event, but all the pasta cooking kept the apartment warmer.
Our month long odyssey through mainland Greece over, we returned to Athens for our flight back to the UK. Thank you (efcharistó) Greece for a perfectly ruined vacation.
We don’t really like to bounce between towns with one night stays, it feels pretty superficial and it’s difficult to cook when you are leaving the next day (our packing is pretty tight, we try not to carry a pantry). In order to approximate what we wanted to do with the KTEL schedule, that is what we did.
We were really happy when we met our new travel chefs; adorable, easily transported and pretty good.
So, in preparation for our next KTEL designated stop-Kalamata, we got a tub of olive tapenade. With time to kill waiting for the bus at the Sparta depot, and eager to get a preview taste of Kalamata, we ended up devouring the entire tub of olive tapenade to the point of feeling sick and never wanting to see another olive. We recovered on the smooth bus ride via a very nice freeway looping through the central valley, avoiding the windy coastal mountain road (our stomachs appreciated the chosen route).
Kalamata’s lovely central plaza and park were full of families, shops were bustling, beach was breezy, all just very pleasant. You could envision this area being packed (like olives) with tourists in the summer. Kalamata even had its own version of the LA River. It’s understandable that it keeps showing up on lists of great places for ex-pats (ex-pits?). In contrast with the olive tapenade, we could easily have had more of this Kalamata.
Our next KTEL required stop on our way to our ultimate goal of Ancient Olympia was Kyparissia. Since we had very briefly lived in Olympia, WA we were eager to connect with its ancestry. Kyparissia is another beach town, but with unusually boggy beaches of seaweed drifts (felt like walking on sponges). This town did not feel like it was reliant on tourists.
Other than the beach, we struggled to find things to do for the 20 hours we were there (and 3 of those hours were spent waiting on the boggy beach to check in). In fact, Kyparissia may mean struggle in Greek as we also struggled to find our lodging in Kyparissia, then we struggled finding places to eat especially since it was Sunday and markets were closed. Actually, neither of those things were unique to Kyparissia for us.
Pyrgos, our next KTEL destination, and our stay for a couple of nights also did not feel like a major tourist draw, which we appreciated here as it felt like just a working city. It was a short 30 minute meandering local bus ride to the site of Ancient Olympia.
Like Sparta, many travel guides dismissed Ancient Olympia and like Sparta we found it pretty emotionally compelling. Maybe these guides focus on restaurants, easy access, transportation time and shopping which apparently are low on our list of important things.
Ancient Olympia was magical, Nick’s favorite place in Greece (Nick also likes modern Olympia in WA state). While the ruins were ruins, good written descriptions plus an imagination made it feel complete. You could envision the grandeur of the Ancient Olympic Village. The pageantry of the Games. To be able to walk or run on the original track. A true celebration of art, sport and athletics. You could feel the appreciation they had for the athletes and competition.
Entrance to the trackThe Track
The museum was tremendous and there is something special about seeing these items where they were found rather than in a city miles away.
These two displays, positioned across from each other in the museum and originally on the east (above) and west (below) pediments of the Temple of Zeus. Beautiful, and fascinating to imagine fully intact in ancient times. The east depicts the chariot race of Pelops and Oinomaos (the fundamental myth of Olympia, which was a battle for the hand of Hippodamia, Oinomaos’s daughter). The west (below) depicting the Battle of Lapiths and Centaurs. A drunken revelry, with the Centaurs (those beasts) attempting the abduction of the lovely Lapith women and fighting during a wedding. Sounds like a modern day TV reality series told in statues.
Another highlight of our Ancient Olympia visit occurred as we were walking over to the site. We had a a chat with a very gregarious gentleman who seemed to be the unofficial city greeter. Called into his souvenir and jewelry shop, he proceeded to share with us files and files of pictures with celebrities; a lot of US military, George and Barbara Bush and tourists from all over. His photo collection included a picture of him as a teen carrying the Olympic torch as it began its journey from ancient Olympia to Montreal for the 1976 Olympics. Our send off was a picture with him, wearing our laurels and holding an Olympic torch.
Back to Pyrgos, we tried to celebrate our triumphant day with a cup of hot milk (Centaurs, we are not!). Nick put a cup with a gold painted handle in the microwave. It cracked and the handle broke into 3 pieces. He grabbed the pieces then realized they were burning hot, torching the tips of multiple fingers. The pieces were hurled to the ground. The place started smelling, he thought it was the microwave, but it was the broken pieces singeing the rug. A quick clean up of the burned rug and slight shift of the coffee table to cover the medal-sized burn spots. He re-glued the cup handle with super glue we had from an earlier shoe repair of Patricia’s boots but the results were not a winning effort. We then dashed to 5 different stores in Pyrgos to find a decent substitute to replace the broken mug. The final result is we really got to know Pyrgos, saw a rainbow and Nick found a 10 euro bill on the street. We bought a matched pair of mugs, but once back we noticed one had a cracked handle, so he raced off to exchange it, completing the accident pentathlon. Quite an Olympic day! Be careful when you reach for the gold!
Having successfully mastered Albania’s no bus system-no bus station minibus-sedan-tag-team transportation we felt ready to tackle the Greek bus system. Greece had big buses and actual bus stations with staffed information counters, tickets, gift shops and cafeterias. However, efficient travel off season was mythical. Greece’s Achilles heel was its bus schedule.
Buses usually ran twice a week; typically just Fridays and Sundays, and connections usually did not line up. Partially because each municipalities had its own bus company (and website) and there was limited to no coordination between them, even if they were all called KTEL, all 62 of them. KTEL Leftkadis, KTEL Ioannion, KTEL Fokidas, and on and on.
From Athens we debated our next move studying geography, schedules and timing. Multiple Venn diagrams later, the conclusion was we’d have to stay someplace longer or shorter than desired, and skip planned stops since the buses did not stop where we wanted in the winter, there are no trains and we don’t rent cars. Solution was to go to places not on our plan or that we had never heard of. Our travel planner became the KTEL buses. Unfortunately, not the always reliable/always dependable K-TEL of Veg-O-Matic, Miracle Brush and other late night products infomercial fame.
Our goal was the south east tip of the Peloponnese peninsula, Monemvasia. The added benefit of this journey would be passing through Nick’s Papou’s (grandfather’s) birthplace of Sykea. It was a long ride, an exciting pass over the Corinth canal https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corinth_Canal and then a transfer in Sparta. (Looks far but just 4 hours of car driving, 6 hours by bus)
The buses often stop in every little town, but Sykea was so small and insignificant that the bus barreled through (barreled=30mph). Sykea was a good place to be from. It appeared to consist of a few houses, a soccer field and an Orthodox Church.
Monemvasia, just a bit further down the road, was a bigger draw because it had the Rock with the fortress at the top. Momenvasia is the rock that seems to have rolled a bit off the tip of the continent, that little tip is the tiny town of Gafira.
Definitely a summertime place so we went in the winter. A bit of the end of the world feel with empty streets except for the occasional tourist (oh, that would be us).
Stayed in a family run Inn. The innkeeper, who looked like a Greek version of Patricia’s mother, set up the little guest breakfast buffet each morning then sat down with her husband, read the paper, they drank their coffee and ate their breakfast. Starting to really feel like home? Patricia’s roots were felt, as well.
Starting at the bottom layer, it’s all up hill, leveling out a bit to a small plaza and you get the first view of the sea.
Each layer, a different flavor with churches, parts of undetermined buildings and views of the Myrtoan/Aegean sea.
At the top, now overlooking Gafira
Coming down we were slowed down by some construction traffic, horses hauling bricks and dirt.
We actually really enjoyed this little town so we and the KTEL bus schedule decided we should stay an extra day.
After wrestling the rock, we decided to go on to Sparta. A lot of travel guides discouraged but not KTEL, it was the only stop we could do and hey, it was Sparta. It defines our lifestyle, so we went. Thank you K-TEL, the Spart-a-matic stop was a good deal, we really loved it, we couldn’t live without it!
Walked through the small but vibrant downtown to get to the Spartan ruins. Nothing fancy, no gates, no fences, you could walk right into them. Evocative and really, really beautiful.
It was glory. “But wait, there’s more”. The next day we bused up to the larger ruins Mystras.
But decided we were happy with just Sparta, turned around and walked back since it had been like a week without walking along dangerous narrow roads.
And of course, found hidden gems, off the beaten track.
The spiritual high of walking through the majestic monasteries perched on the Meteora lingered as our bus traveled southeast towards Athens. The landscape changed to familiar, looking like the drive south from Northern California through the Grapevine on the 5. But then the snowy caps of Mt Olympus, home of the Gods, came into view.
Far more impressive than the ungodly Mt Olympus in Los Angeles. Different idols, different snow.
It was nice to have a landmark to guide us in a new city. The Acropolis sitting atop the hill in the middle of Athens served as such. Walking around town, it directed us back to our apartment in the Makriyanni neighborhood. We knew to approach it from a certain side, swing around until it was behind us to find our street.
Seeing it daily made us think of the ancient Greeks who looked up to it daily, as well. What was their life like, always looking up to where the gods were honored? For Los Angelenos, similar to the Hollywood Sign. Building of the Acropolis began in 415 BCE, but with each subsequent owner (Mycenaeans, various Greeks, Romans, Byzantines and Ottomans) and earthquakes it was remodeled. Just like a LA.
The first day we walked up to the Acropolis; no reservation needed, half price tickets because it was January (2025).
Of course it was awe inspiring, but maybe more thought provoking was seeing graffiti spanning thousands of years or hearing people speaking languages from all over the world, common curiosity.
While it was magnificent, in some ways more striking were the remnants of the village below on the flat lands and the archeological sites that popped up through the city. On the hill below the Acropolis, you could see outlines of houses and shops with the scattered ruins.
The winding dirt roads providing another sense of the ancient city planning around the Acropolis center. Throughout, striking juxtaposition of buildings, one communicating with the other from across the city.
The Tomb on Filopappou Hill as seen from the Acropolis
But Athens is not just the old. it’s a nice mix of modern, ancient with a lot of in between, but mostly the 1960’s. A new building adjacent to an archeological excavation adjacent to midcentury apartment blocks adjacent to a mini-mart in a 1920’s storefront.
Socrates’s prison
Socrates’s prison eerily like the old Los Angeles Zoo in Griffith Park
Like all of Europe, wandering through the streets and museums of Athens was like seeing snapshots from a rotation of civilizations and governments.
Consistent with most mediterranean cities, Citrus trees (and cats) lined the streets. Despite our continued enthusiasm for city fruit trees, we’ve learned from experience in Cyprus, Croatia and Spain, not to pick because of course we have. They’re terrible. But not wasted, they are used to make marmalade, but more commonly for compost. The plants though were kinda of as beautiful as the buildings- the citrus trees, cypress, bougainvillea, lone pine, oak, the ubiquitous olive, and even the random jacaranda tempering the massive, massive, massive city metropolis sprawl from the the sea and up along the surrounding low lying hills. Again, kinda like LA.
We joined the crowds to watch the sunset on one of Athen’s 7 hills and then time to leave the next day.
We walked to the bus station at the edge of town to head to the Peloponnese, of course not taking the tram, but walking the couple plus kilometers to the bus station. Walking along the outskirts, away from the original town centers you get a more complete view of what life is like now. Those off-the-beaten track, hidden gems everyone wants to find. We do enjoy the meandering, especially when there are good sidewalks.
A scenic bus ride out of Albania; snowy and mountainous, entertained at the Greek border bus stop with stray dogs and puppies (nice watching the border patrol guys get bags of dog food from their cars and feed the dogs).
Dropped off in the parking lot of a cafe on the edge of town, which made a lot of sense since although we were now in Greece, the bus originated in Albania (see last post). We walked towards our lodging in the town of Kalabaka. A typical walk for us along an unsafe road with Patricia complaining about the road being unsafe as we hugged the edges when cars and trucks passed. And then this appeared in front of us.
Pictures do not come close to showing how massive these are. A series of enormous pillars shooting out of the ground creating a compact forest of rock, like rainbow magic rocks from childhood. But these were not the only awe inspiring features.
At the top of the columns were massive monasteries plus one convent, all built in the 1300s.
We took a bus up to the top to the first monastery, Agios Stefanos, then walked to Roussanou, Varlaam, Great Meteoron, Agios Nikolaos, and Holy Trinity.
We walked, of course, on a somewhat narrow road, which would have been a bad idea in the high season.
Stopping frequently to pause and stare.
The town of Kastraki at the base of the Meteora
Again, another example of people the finding highest point(s) in an area, and then the insane addition of a seemingly impossible to build religious structure (or sometimes defense structures). Gods and Wars, describes almost all of history.
So many buildings, in so many places, massive edifices, exceptional efforts. Tsarevets in Veliko Tarnova, Bulgaria. Mont St Michel in France, Santuario Madonna di San Luca in Bologna, the Alhambra in Granada, Spain……. Just crazy in terms of devotion, labor, and engineering ingenuity.
In awe, we then returned back to town, following a path down through the Meteora.
There’s a degree of inherent awkwardness to foreign travel, and we took it up a notch in Albania. Simple conversations, grocery shopping, figuring out other countries appliances. Anything can turn strange, and everything turned strange in Albania. That’s a part of the experience we really enjoy.
Since there are virtually no trains in Albania, our only option to get to our next stop, Greece, was by bus. We truly enjoyed Tirana and were not ready to leave Albania. We had heard the coast of Albania was amazing, the beaches were being strongly promoted as the Albanian Riviera, it was January, but why not go?
We decided to work our way down towards the Greek border by first attempting the intercity bus from Tirana to the nearby coastal town of Durres. Sounded straightforward, as it was only 25 miles away. The Tourist Information Center agent gave us guidance and assurance that our plan to head south to Greece via the Albanian bus system was indeed sound and straightforward. She also awkwardly mentioned that she had heard that the LA fires (it was January 2025, the LA fires were raging) were started deliberately by homeowners so they could build new nicer homes. Conspiracy theories everywhere. This should have been our first clue that we shouldn’t trust the Tourist Information Center.
So, we headed out to Durres. We quickly learned that the bus system in Albania is arbitrary and we were clueless (but, we knew that). They do not follow any listed schedule, not online or posted at a bus depot. Actually, bus depots, were empty lots or a spot on the street, maybe identified by a food stand. We took a regular city bus to the edge of Tirana, fortunately, a local rider, an older woman with shopping bags told us where to get off – without us even needing to ask, she knew (otherwise we may have ended up in a bunker in the hills). It was a large lot with buses coming and going, white minibuses/vans, food stands, and multiple guys hustling around trying to convince us to let them take us the final 24 miles to Durres. Everything had to be in cash (in Albanian Leks which convert to about 1/100th of a dollar, so 100 L equaled 1 US dollar). We were able to bypass the hustlers find a bus, not the bus we were looking for, but still headed to Durres.
Durres in Duress.
We were dropped off in a new busy lot with vans and buses and a new group of transport hustlers inviting us to get on their bus or van, we successfully ignored them, and walked through the city, along the beach boardwalk to our hotel- The Peaky Hotel. The best part of the Peaky Hotel (unknown to us until we entered the lobby) were the multiple references to the British TV show Peaky Blinders, apparently the hotel owner was a huge fan of the show. Admirable attention to theme.
Our rate included breakfast (fancy for us) and we finally got to taste homemade Albanian mountain tea (which every Albanian kept pushing on us), not bad.
Another awkward Albanian moment occurred in the Peaky Hotel. First, we had to pay. We assumed in Leks and had gotten the exact amount ready, but it was Albania, so the receptionist preferred Euros, but didn’t want any Euro coins). Then Nick needed to count it out, again. A bit problematic since we needed the Euros for the transport to Greece and Albanian ATMS give Leks. So, the receptionist took most of our Euros. Use of credit cards, like trains are rare in Albania.
An hour later the power went out, so Nick went out to the hall to check, then a young man also came out into the hall from next door, except he was only wearing a towel. Apparently, he was in the shower when power went out. He spoke minimal English. Nick started to go to front desk via emergency stairs, and the hotel neighbor followed in his towel. We were on the second floor but, the door to the first floor was locked so the toweled guy started banging on the door. Finally, someone opened door, the receptionist Nick had just flashed all this cash while checking in. Some Albanian irritation and shrugging between toweled neighbor and front desk woman while Nick innocently looked on. Then, the lights went back on mid conversation. Towel guy started to leave back upstairs, Nick smiled at receptionist and she gave him a weird smile back. Nick confused said thank you in Albanian and followed the towel guy back up the stairs.
Durres beaches seemed fine, nothing incredible, but it was hard to judge due to the extensive construction of new hotels/resorts that was going on along most of the beach front.
No, that is not a fisherman, it is a sculpture of a fisherman. A lot of public art in this plaza.
Although, we did get to see Tina , John, Bob and Mick along the promenade.
Not sure how these famous four were chosen. We were more intrigued by all the stray dogs roaming the streets. Many European cities have numerous street cats, Albania had some, but the dogs were everywhere. And, they were extremely friendly, big, beautiful and seemed very healthy. They also seemed to understand the roads and when to cross much better than us.
Similar to other European cities, there were the requisite Roman ruins (even Albania couldn’t keep the Romans out), but Albania differed in these were just “there”. In the neighborhood.
Again, consistent with post-communist countries, a lot of graffiti and we generally like street art, but knowing how novel it must have felt to be able to actually DO street art for Albanians, made these even better.
And of course, statues honoring invasions and war
After two nights of Peaky Blinders, we continued our blind path to Greece. Our goal was Gjirokastër, Albania near the Greek border. Per the internet there was a direct 4 hour bus once a day from Durres to Gjirokaster. We walked a mile to the original pseudo bus station, they told us to go stand at the “semaphore”(whats a semaphore? A traffic light, at least in Spanish-semaforo) to catch another bus to the southern direction pseudo bus station. At the semaphore bus stop, a local bus for 40 Leks (about 40 cents US) took us to another empty lot with a snack bar on the outskirts of Durres. No physical station, just guys trying to get you on their minibus or taxi. We talked to the food stand guy, he pointed out a guy to talk to. By this time we were running low on Leks, and didn’t want to convert anymore Euros, so we began to barter for transportation. We asked about the daily bus to Gjirokastër. Guy said no bus (not sure if he was completely honest) but he would take us to Lushnje for 400 lek each ($4) in his minibus and his friend would pick us up and take us to Gjirokastër for 800 Lek. He then drove us in a very slow white van (no 4th or 5th gear), the whole time he was making phone calls. Finally, he dropped us and our backpacks off at a gas station next to a roundabout outside Lushnje(?), said wait here for 10 minutes.
Another white van eventually did come, not in the promised 10 minutes, but maybe all the white vans lacked 4th and 5th gears. The new driver asked for another 1000 leak each, but the other guy had said it would be 800 each (and that’s all we had left), so he took us. He then drove most of the way before dropping us and another woman (she was not happy) off to an older couple (we think the driver’s in-laws).
Our new drivers in their sedanDrop off locations, more dogs and a hint of how scenicl this drive was going to be
The father-in-law loaded the three of us into the backseat of the car for the final stunningly beautiful 15 mile drive (40 minutes) to Gjirokastër before unloading the 3 of us at some random corner in Gjirokastër. Once in town, we (minus the woman from the backseat), found the private bus company to buy tickets to go over the border to Kalabaka, Greece with our last 40 euro. An exact change trip. (With a lot of left over awkward.)
Taken from the window, sheep, shepherd, sheep dogs, and crazy light blue water from the calcium deposits.
Little tiny Gjirokastër has had a huge impact on Albania as the birthplace of the dictator Enver Hoxha (and author Ismail Kadare). Its history is as multi-layered as is the town. It was Greek, it was independent Epirus, it was Albanian, etc. Then about 1300 it was contested by Serbians and Italians, eventually won by Albanians, then eventually taken by the Ottomans, followed by the Albanians again in 1909-1912 The Greeks tried to reclaim it during the first Balkan wars (1912-1913). The Italians took over during WW2 and of course the Germans had a short stay. Despite the constant change, Gjirokastër seemed to stay uniquely itself.
The ugly new town was at the bottom
and the old town was just straight up beautiful and straight up the mountain.
Our tiny apartment was just as cute as Gjirokastër, but colder than being outside. It was good that we were just here for 2 nights because it was just way tooo cold to shower.
A more successful attempt to find our bus this time, first going to the bus company office where we had bought the ticket, they pointed us across the street to in front of the gas station which was apparently the bus stop du jour. Tucked in the warm bus, another strikingly beautiful drive to Northern Greece.
January’s (2025) plan was 6 weeks in Greece but flights to Albania were half the price, and if we had a bucket list, Albania would have been on it, so we bought the tickets. Our trips to post-communist countries; Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovenia, Bulgaria, Romania and Hungary, have been fascinating. In some ways these are new countries, less than 40 years old, but they carry long histories. Some have done better than others; Croatia (aided by tourism) has been stable, although in many ways still recovering from the Croatian-Serbian War of the early 90’s. Bosnia-Herzegovenia is still a mess. Bulgaria and Romania struggle with corruption and political and economic instability. Hungary has slid back into a dictatorship. Albania is a completely unique entity. Under the very oppressive, very paranoid dictator, Enver Hoxha, it was the most isolated of the communist aligned countries, even breaking ties with USSR (1956) and China (1978). Hoxha died in 1985, but real changes did not begin until after 1990.
Albania felt like a mash up of Ottoman, Communist , Italian and Baltic style. Our first few hours were a perfect snapshot of the country. Driving to our lodging, through a narrow, graffitied, dilapidated alley we arrived at a very modern row of little bungalows, absolutely beautiful and perfect inside.
Despite flight delays causing us to arrive many hours after our original time, our super nice apartment host was waiting for us, speaking perfect English. After a good night sleep, we easily found our way from our alley through a little passage, and the center of Tirana was right there.
A confluence of buildings of all different eras and styles with multiple large construction sites in progress. All signs of an establishing tourist industry and a solid jump into capitalism.
We were told that drivers just ignored the single elevated lights so the entire streetlight, pole and all, light up. Smart.
People were extremely friendly, many spoke English and everyone made a point of offering help even if we didn’t need it. The new Albania is changing their narrative; a lot of the hero of the Ottoman rebellion, Gjergi Kastrioti Skënderbeau
and favorite daughter MotherTeresa but not a lot of Hoxha.
The former dictator’s house sat in the middle of town. A beautiful, baltic interpretation of midcentury modern, but completely vacant, not marked on maps or with signage. Strangely not repurposed as a museum or government building. He was so hated, that after 41 years, they don’t want to be reminded. (update: a few weeks after we left, the building was put in use for an artist in residency program in partnership with the French organization Art Explora)
How do they tell the story of those hellish, repressive years that truly affected every Albanian? Two thoughtful, low tech museums devoted to the Hoxha regime were created in two underground bunkers. Why bunkers? Hoxha’s paranoia led to the building of between 173,000 and 750,000 bunkers throughout the country https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bunkers_in_Albania. Like other memorials and museums made by the people who suffered through the events, as in Timisoara, Romania https://chosenfugue.xyz/2019/07/12/timisoara-the-revolution-will-not-be-televised/ this was heartbreaking. One was on the far edge of town, built into a mountain, the other in the middle of town with just a small entry on the street.
The bunkers traced the history of the county’s quick slide into isolation, highlighting the rise of Hoxha, the paranoia of Hoxha, the cruelty of Hoxha and life under Hoxha, while honoring and memorializing the opposition and those who were murdered by Hoxha
The approach to the hillside bunker was through a loooong tunnel, where we were greeted by a faux guard and a bunch of stray puppies
This was a secret bunker, built for Hoxha and the political elite in case of a nuclear attack. The bunker’s structure is unchanged, Hoxha’s bed and room are still waiting (he never slept in it).
It is hard to describe how massive the bunker is; multiple very long hallways, a large assembly room and 106 rooms now telling the story of the surveillance, torture, murder, propaganda, constant threat of chemical warfare and the use of concentration camps for Albanian men, women and children.
The exhibits did an amazing job of emphasizing the absolute constant day to day control exerted by the government from surveillance,
to forced haircuts (to combat foreign influences),
to the standardization of everything people owned and encountered- everyone had the same furniture and kitchen.
The bunker in town told other stories, and shared names and images of the thousands of people killed by Hoxha. While this bunker felt smaller, it actually was five stories deep.
The bunkers were filled with fake mustard gas mist and the sound tracks of screaming, sirens, singing and bombing. . Incredible. Just very powerful, evocative and overwhelming documentation of the years of horror the Albanian society endured.
Leaving these, walking in a very vibrant city, felt very significant.
We are predominately off-season winter travelers, so weather has a huge influence on our perception of place. Usually the effect is positive, like when we strolled through an empty, beautiful and warm (inside) Uffizi Gallery in Florence in mid January or not needing reservations to go to the Acropolis, again in January (plus all Greek archeological sites are 1/2 off in winter). Croatia for us was a moody, snowy Zagreb cemetery, warm Raki in an old stone apartment in Split rather than a beer on the beach. The primary negative effect is bad weather! We need to be outside, we like to be outside, we bus, train or walk everywhere and dogs (and Nick) need to be walked, so we are outside. Being Californians we only have bad winter clothes. Yes, we could buy warmer clothes, but generally we don’t. Patricia’s solution is to get hand-me-downs from daughters and sisters who live/have lived in cold weather. Nick’s solution is to basically empty his backpack and wear all his old bad winter clothes all at once, 6-7 layers (“it works because the holes don’t overlap”). A walking closet as opposed to a walk in closet.
Another solution is to seek out more temperate locations. As we were headed to Liverpool to spend Christmas with our daughters, we saw there was a dog sit on the southwest Somerset coast for a week before Christmas. We thought it might be warmer than Liverpool in Northern England. So, why not? Plus the description was so lovely; a seaside Victorian house right across the street from the beach with two smallish dogs. Did we say ignorantly thought? So from Paris, we rode the Eurostar train under the English Channel and headed to Burnam-on-Sea.
Burnam-on-Sea was the epitome of decay, English style. A classic seaside resort gone to seed. Faded in every way. It contained every British trope but not necessarily in a good way.
Burnam-on-Sea is just below the larger Weston-super-Mare, bizarre name apparently derived from its ancient Roman name (Super Mario?). Burnam-on-Sea sits at the mouth of the River Parrett which flows into the Bristol Channel before it reaches the Irish Sea. It boasts the second highest tidal change (49 feet) in the world, with the first being the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia. Apparently we are tidal junkies, always searching for the highs and lows, as we actually went to the Bay of Fundy just because it had the highest tidal change in the world (52 foot change)! https://chosenfugue.xyz/2023/03/12/lohw-canada/ We also went to Gloucester, England to see the Severn River Tidal bore https://chosenfugue.xyz/2018/10/12/wonders-man-made-and-natural/. Maybe we are not the best people to ask for destination advice? And our stay here might confirm that.
When the tide is low you can see the river still flowing. When the tide is high, the river runs under the water and contributes to the dangerous undertow.
These extreme tides (the bay tide can recede over 1.5 miles) are not without risk. The gigantic tidal changes coupled with a severe undertow results in extremely dangerous conditions, especially for a seaside resort. If the out going tide doesn’t pull you away, there is even greater danger if you walk out as the tide goes out and then get stuck in the mudflats, literally quicksand. People get trapped and slowly sink or get caught and even drown as the returning tide comes rushing in. Lifeguards on special hovercrafts and rescue helicopter are always on watch and ready to rush in.
On our introductory walk through town, our lovely pet owner told us to always keep the dogs on the leash when near the water and an eye on the tide and then proceeded to point out gravestones of Victorian children lost at sea as we walked through an old cemetery at the slightly creepy church.
She also pointed out the arcade on the pier. Reportedly the UK’s shortest pier, although the country’s piers peers dispute this claim acknowledging it as a pavilion, not a pier. Burnham-on-Sea is also famous for its low lighthouse built in 1832. It stands 36 feet high. It may have been higher in 1832, but maybe slowly sinking into the quicksand? (pic from Wikipedia)
After the warning walk, we went with our sit host for dinner at the local Chinese restaurant, where she called ahead to secure a table for our party of 3. We were the only people in the restaurant for the entire time. On our way there, we passed the touristy center of town, which was 2-3 blocks of the main street. A row of charity shops, a Costa coffee, a souvenir shop with beach supplies, an Army surplus store, a B&M discount store and of course, a chippy (we are in the UK). Welcome to Burnam-on-Sea.
The dogs were cute while we were at home, but turned into raging wolves whenever we passed another dog on the street. That was not the only issue with going out. It was unclear what was worse: the Hounds of the Baskervilles flying like kites in the gale-force , the risk of being blown into the sea and quicksand, even from blocks away or a wind induced mid air dogfight. In addition to the hurricanesque winds, torrential downpours added another dimension, with all 6-7 layers of clothes getting soaked through waterproof gear. The weather may have explained the need for an Army Surplus store.
Burnam-on-Sea helped us to acclimate to the UK before meeting up in London with the US contingency coming to Liverpool for Christmas. We successfully met up and were on our way to spend Christmas with the Liverpool based contingency.
Started out strong with exploration of British holiday traditions
Trying every Marks and Spencer Christmas food we could plus Christmas crackers-edible and non-edibleChristmas decorations at the Albert Docks
We tempered tradition with Beatlemania ( after the visitors left, we eventually went to each Beatle’s childhood homes) and song inspired sites.
Mainly what we do is walk. Part of the joy of our endless fugue through Europe is walking, just walking. Cities and countryside. The pleasure is being startled by ineffable beauty. You turn a corner in Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria and see the Tsarevets Fotress on the hilltop.https://chosenfugue.xyz/2019/06/18/into-the-cyrillic-part-1-bulgaria-interior/
You leave the train station in Florence, walk a few blocks, enter the Piazza del Duomo and the Cathedral, Giotto’s Campanile and Baptistery of St. John are right in front of you. You understand the word stunning. https://chosenfugue.xyz/2023/04/11/frenzied-firenze/ It is not just the main attractions, but also the everyday beauties you pass as you walk.
New York City, San Francisco (even with the hills) are great walking cities, but Paris is better than all of them. The art of flaneur was invented in and for Paris.
The expanse, the history, the elegance just leads you to wander. We didn’t go to any museums, no fancy restaurants, no tours, no trip up the Eiffel Tower.
Walking through Paris, is following the footsteps of icons like Simone de Bouvier & Sartre, Serge Gainsbourg, Truffaut, Baudelaire, Chopin, Collette, Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde and countless others.
Simone + SartreGainsbourgTruffautBaudelaireChopinColettejim Morrison, Fenced off for protectionOscar Wilde, also, fenced off for protection
After our first fugue from 2018-2020, it seemed odd that we had not really explored the heavyweights- Italy and France. We checked off Italy in January 2024 and it just kind of felt like, oh now we should finish up France, we did not expect how great these five weeks would be with vast differences between regions, between villages, towns and cities. Time traveling from cave paintings to roman amphitheaters to Haussmannian boulevards https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georges-Eugène_Haussmann to the Eurostar cross channel trains. Emotionally, spiritually and artistically, satisfying
Paris was the fitting end of our tour de France. We will be back.
Chosen Fugue 
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