Returning to the Fallen Kingdom

Okay.

I’ve known for some time that I’d have to go back to the States this year.  Both of my credit cards and, most importantly, my debit card expire in 2026.  I haven’t gotten my mail in over a year.  So, as much as I’ve put off this trip back into the belly of the beast, it was time to book that flight.

And my anxiety just grew in the days before the flight.  Though I haven’t lived in the States full-time since March of 2023, I’ve been keeping track of what’s going on in the country and none of it is good.  Everything is too expensive, people are losing their jobs as well as their homes and their rights, the violence is only escalating, and oh yeah – government sponsored murder is now a thing.

Actually, it was always a thing.  It’s just gotten really overt in the last couple of years.

I had seen the horror stories of people getting snatched at airports for no good reason.  And, despite having a valid passport as a citizen, I’m still a brown woman entering an increasingly racist country.  And I have a very vivid imagination.

I had to keep that in check, though, deciding instead to focus on the particulars of the trip.  I already knew from my last time to Georgia that I would not be renting a car again.  Too expensive and too stressful to drive on those roads especially since I haven’t been behind the wheel of a car since my last visit (and don’t miss it.).  No car in car-centric Atlanta meant I needed to book a hotel by the airport that provided a shuttle so that I’d have access to MARTA (public transport).

The one saving grace of the trip is that the ticket would be round-trip.  Still insanely expensive, but at least I could look forward to returning.

I mentioned this to the lovely taxi driver who picked me up from my apartment.  His name is Skander and we had a nice chat as he drove me to the airport.  He told me about his travels and his family while I told him about my plans to live in Tirana.  We both agreed that neither of our lives were or would be fancy, but the city is safe, cheap, and a good place to live.  In this insane world, it’s the simple things that matter most. 

I have to mention that he apologized for his English not being that great.  I kind of hate when the natives do that.  I’m in their country.  I need to learn their language.  I told him his English was excellent compared to my non-existent Albanian.  Just looking at the written language makes my old brain say ‘nope’.  And that whole thing of having a q without a u is just tripping me up.  I don’t like that but I will keep trying. 

This was not my first trip on Lufthansa but it was my first time traveling them over the pond.  I have to say I’m impressed.  The seats didn’t numb my butt, they served a very nice white wine, and I dug the hot towel service.

What I didn’t dig so much was my seating arrangement.  The flight attendant checked my seat number when I boarded and mentioned that he didn’t like that seat.  Okay.  I quickly found out why when the screen for the seat would not operate.  So I was stuck in the middle of a full row with no entertainment.  And in the row just across from me sat a kid who screamed (not cried, screamed) during most of the flight.  Lovely.

Since we landed in D.C. before I headed to Atlanta, I skipped the usually long lines for passport control in that airport.  I was very glad to not see the orange gestapo anywhere in either location.  That eased some of my anxiety as I tried to figure out where to meet the hotel shuttle.  It was my first time taking one in Atlanta so it took me a minute to get my bearings.

The hotel was … fine.  The room was decent enough and I appreciated the lack of carpeting.  Along with having a shuttle, I made sure the place also had a free breakfast as there was little else around for food.  The spread was barebones, but what are you gonna do?

MARTA has made some changes.  While I was fumbling at the ticket machines, a nice man came over and told me that the machines no longer work.  Now all you have to do is press your credit/debit card to the gate and get charged that way.  Huh.  Just like in Singapore.  Cool.

Taking the train to the end of the line, I ended up as close to my destinations as I could get.  Then it was time to find a car.   The cab driver wanted to charge me $90 just to go the 20 miles to the post office.  I immediately got out of his car and ordered an Uber.  The genial woman who picked me up showed me how to arrange for multiple stops on the app, setting me up to hit the post office, my storage unit, and then the final drop off at a phone repair place.  The whole trip cost about $120.

Still outrageous, but it beats paying 3 times that much to rent a car for 3 days.

I had accumulated so much junk mail over the year that it could no longer fit in my small box.  I had to take the note left in the empty box to the front desk to receive the bucket full of mail.  I ditched most of it as useless while the few pieces of mail that I needed all arrived as expected which was a relief.  The second stop at my storage unit just reminded me again of how long it’s been since my last visit.  I initially went to the wrong unit, then couldn’t get the door up.  The driver had to remind me to pull the handle back first.  Dang, I’m getting old.

So is the storage unit, apparently.  The door was fighting me to open and close it as it appears to be rusting.  I had hoped for this to be the last time I’d need it but …

Last stop at the phone repair place.  I had to search this place out specifically as so few people (even in the U.S.) carry batteries for my phone.  And while I wasn’t happy that the price was double what I would have paid in Portugal, at least these folks actually replaced the battery.  The phone doesn’t retain a charge like it was brand new, but the battery life is vastly improved.  And still it was cheaper than buying a new phone.  I’m trying to put that off for as long as possible.

While waiting for my phone, I hit the Wendy’s across the street for old time’s sake.  It used to be my favorite fast-food place and while I didn’t exactly miss it while across the pond, it still made me nostalgic for the life I’d left behind.  A junior Baconator is still greasy, overpriced goodness.

The next day had me back on MARTA to do some shopping.  You know that Treehouse of Horror episode of The Simpsons where Homer ends up in the real world while remaining his animated 3D self?  Yeah.  That’s kinda how I felt walking along the streets of Buckhead.  While it was nice to see so many other black folk, I still felt like an alien.  I really don’t belong to this place anymore.

After spending too much money for some toiletries (after dropping even more coin for books the previous day), I spent still more green at a Cheesecake Factory for a mediocre lunch and an excellent Paloma.  Everything really is outrageously expensive in the country.  I don’t know how folks are surviving.

Even still, this trip was less expensive than trips in the past.  I didn’t do any clothing or shoe shopping, picking out clothes from my storage unit instead.  I ate as little as possible to both save money and not get sick (yeah, I heard about the recent cases of explosive diarrhea – seriously, America?!).  Fortunately, there were no issues there, thank goodness.  And, again, I saved money (and my nervous system) by not renting a car.

I had a moment of panic with my new debit card.  I had activated it following instructions, but it still didn’t work.  I tried at several spots, then figured I had to get money out first.  Nothing was working.  I got back to the hotel to call for help and was finally able to get it activated. 

I really don’t need any more panic moments.  I was already freaked out by being in the country.   I don’t need more reminders of why I left.

  

And So it Goes

 

Next in the list of apartments I’ve rented in the last three years:  this place is in yet another part of Tirana, near a mall called the Ring Center.  A pretty standard mall with the ever-present Conad on the lower level and a short walk from the apartment.  The building was further from the center than I would like but there was still a lot of sunshine in the early part of autumn so the walk was pleasant enough.

The apartment is nice enough though a bit noisy as it’s beside a busy main road.  A good-sized bedroom, the largest TV I’ve seen in any of these places (that remained unwatched during my stay) and surprisingly comfortable bed.

The kitchen “shelf” is way too small and, uh, Europe?  We’ve discussed these shower stalls.

And I had to wash my hair, which clogged the drain, and flooded the entire bathroom.  Because that’s what happens when the stall is open on one side.  Say it with me, Europe – DOORS.

But otherwise, it was a decent place.  I ended up staying there for five weeks with the only other real annoyance being the multiple power/Wi-Fi outages. 

I continued to look for an apartment during that time, choosing yet another site in the hope that I would have more luck.  Somehow, I found that rarest of creatures – an apartment with a tub!  Cue the heavenly choir!  Of course, I want to see this place so I submitted an inquiry for it along with a couple others and … you guessed it.  Crickets!

 I know I attract bugs, but this is getting ridiculous.

I also tried to hook up with an immigration lawyer.  I got an immediate response from a local lawyer and we exchanged some emails.  But after I didn’t receive a proposed date for an appointment, I figured I’d walk to the office to make one in person.  Got to the place, saw the sign for the lawyer … and could not figure out how to get into the building.  Tirana is all about mixed used zoning so apartments are above every storefront.  This means that businesses might be mixed in with the apartments on the upper levels.  But I could not find a sign to actually get me to the office.

The second response I got (a week after my first inquiry) was from a lawyer who sent me some basic information along with an appointment date and time over Zoom.  All that she required was for me to pay the consulting fee before the appointment and she gave me her account number.  Okay.  I figured I could wire money from my bank into her account.

Except my bank doesn’t allow transfers to a foreign bank account.  Okay.  I figured then I could hit one of the many Western Union offices I’ve spotted on my walks.  A couple were closed when they should have been open according to Google.  A couple that were open didn’t do transfers.  Huh?  I thought that’s what Western Union did.  I had the 50 euros in hand, I had the woman’s bank account – what’s the problem here?

The last guy I spoke to suggested I hit a bank.  I went to a branch and the woman also didn’t know how to do a transfer (at least I wasn’t the only one).  She was very nice, though, and tried to look up the account.  It wasn’t with her bank so there was nothing she could do.

I know the logical move is to ask the lawyer how to make a payment (I actually did do that when all she sent me was the bank account number) but, seriously I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO!!  This is her business.  Why should I be doing all this work?

I had to cancel the appointment because of my issues.  I'm absolutely certain I'll have no problem getting another one.  

And, yes, that is sarcasm.

So, let’s tally this up.  After weeks in the city, I still have no apartment, no lawyer, no visa, and no clue.

Then the email that I’ve been anticipating and dreading in equal measure arrived.  My debit card was shipped out.  Now, all I have to do is …

(sigh)

… go pick it up.

Mounting Frustrations

 

After another two weeks, moving day had arrived yet again.  Please note, I would not be moving around so much this trip were the apartments not booked.  Both were nice places that I would have no problem staying in again.

I caught a cab to take me to the new place.  The driver struck up a conversation and I ended up telling him how I’m trying to move to the city.  And yet again, I encountered nothing but good vibes from a local towards a future immigrant.  He advised that I choose an apartment near the center as it’s safer with more cops around.  He also asked if I’d been anywhere else in the country.  I told him no since I have the hardest time leaving the city.  I did mention to him that I wanted to visit Durres and Saranda on the coast.  He said no, that I should first see Shkoder.  He whipped out his phone and showed me these gorgeous photos of the city that’s only about two hours away from Tirana and on the edge of a lake.  It reminded me of Montenegro which makes perfect sense since it’s closer to there than to Tirana.

He dropped me off and, like before, it took me a minute to figure out where the place was.  There are apartment buildings everywhere and it can be very difficult to point out the right one.  The host did send me a video but I still couldn’t find the place.  Then I realized the red wall I was looking for had been painted white since the video was shot.  The open staircase was right beside that.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you really can’t judge an apartment by the façade.  I’ll be honest and say that a lot of Tirana is crumbling with uneven sidewalks and missing tiles.  Some of the buildings are architectural marvels with odd shapes and interesting colors while other buildings straight up look like they should be condemned.  The outsides are stained or cracked, the stairways are worn, and the hallways look pretty rough.  But then you get into the apartment and it is lovely.  The water is hot with good pressure, the electricity is steady, and even when the places are small, they are clean and tidy.

Such was the situation with the new place. Worn stairs lead past an abandoned washing machine in the hallway and into a decent, if a little dark, apartment.  The kitchen is tiny (again), but the shower is enclosed and the bedroom is a good size.  I just had to remember to shut the blinds before I went for a shower as I didn’t want the flash the café directly outside the window.

Not that you couldn’t do that if you wanted to.  I don’t kink shame – you do you.  I’m just happy to have anyone reading my ramblings.

The entrance to the building is flanked by two grocery stores.  One is pretty tiny but good for incidentals while the other is a more fully loaded store and again, mere steps away from the apartment.  Tirana remains insanely convenient. 

There is also a laundromat near the building.  Why would I need to know that when there was a washing machine in the apartment?  Because the machine in the unit was the same model as the one in the hallway and neither of them worked.  Sigh.  I do hate laundromats.  Especially when the change machine doesn’t work and I had to scramble around for 100 leke coins.  And this is why a washing machine in my new place is not optional.

There are also a bunch of Turkish restaurants in the area and I was so thrilled to spot Istanbul Bakery.  I excitedly ran in and ordered a simit – it has been so long.  But the disappointment continues.  It was too doughy and not nearly crunchy enough.  What a shame.  I guess I’ll just need to go back to Istanbul at some point (real hardship, I know).  Out of curiosity, I did look up round trip ticket prices.  It costs less than $200 to fly to Türkiye from Albania in the off season.  Gotta love that.

Speaking of disappointment, the apartment search continues to be a bust.  The lack of response from anyone sucked all the fun out of looking.  So instead, I started to look into other avenues towards my visa.

In weeks prior, I went to the American Embassy to ask if I needed to take any extra steps to remain in the country for a full year.  They said I didn’t have to do anything more and gave me a card with their contact info for further questions.  I emailed them only to receive no response.

I checked on a visa website that said that I need to register with an office in the city.  I walked there one day only to find that the location had moved and Google hadn’t been updated.  It was already a hot sweaty day in August and I didn’t have the strength to make another attempt to find the place.

Repeatedly running head-first into a brick wall is steadily eroding my nerves.  This process should not be this difficult.  I haven’t even truly started and I am already exhausted.  My nose is bleeding and I have a headache from all the bangs against that wall.

And then my stepmom called to tell me that my father died.

Oh.

Didn’t see that one coming.

Seeing More of the City

 

Leaving Sotir’s place presented me with another bout of in-between time from check out to check-in.  This involved getting all my crap out of the apartment, taking many rests breaks along the way, and trudging across a couple of busy streets to one of my favorite restaurants for a long breakfast.

Did I mention that Tirana in August is hot as hades?  So, lots of sweating to be done as I went the short distance to Bitter.   I discovered this place during my first trip to Tirana last summer and I’ve been back many times since.  The owner of the place always recognizes me and gives me a warm greeting.  I was able to store my luggage at the front of the restaurant and sit inside to enjoy my meal.

After a couple of hours, I finally heard from the host that the new place was ready.  I easily hopped a cab and was let out a few minutes later.  The host had provided a video as to how to get in but it still took me a few minutes to figure it out.  So many building and so many hidden from plain sight entrances, but I did eventually get there.

The place is gorgeous!  A long apartment with a large kitchen, a decent shower set-up (very important as I needed to wash my hair and didn’t want to bother in the last place) and a nice view.  The bed is kind of saggy on one side which made climbing out of it in the morning a daily reminder of how tall and old I am.  I quickly learned to sleep in the middle of the mattress as it offered more support.

Then there is the flooring.  And here I thought it was just how it looked in the pictures, but the wood … it really is so shiny.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses though.  Do you remember the place in Montenegro that was a mosquito spawn point?  Yeah, well this place spawns wasps.  There were two dead ones when I first got there and I killed at least three a day during my two-week stay.  I tried looking for a nest on the balcony but I never found one.  And since this is yet another European apartment with no screens on the windows or sliding glass door, I paid the price for not wanting the place to get stuffy.   As mentioned, I just got really good at killing wasps.

The apartment is on the 8^th floor of a different part of the city so it was nice to get a fuller picture of Tirana’s layout.  Once I was able to orient myself again, I realized just how connected everything is.  I still don’t know the names of roads or regions as I have always navigated by using landmarks.  Figuring out if a place is near the square or the pyramid or the pond helps me when trying to scope out a more permanent home.

After years on the road and seeing more than 40 apartments in 10 countries, I’ve developed a rather lengthy list of demands for my future home.  Must be a 2-bedroom for my copious amount of stuff.  I need an oven and a full-sized fridge in a kitchen that is more than just a shelf in the living area.  High ceilings are a must as a tall woman.  I don’t want to risk bumping my knuckles on a low ceiling or hitting a light fixture while taking off my shirt.  The shower MUST BE ENCLOSED – seriously, Europe, I know you can do it.  I’ve seen several showers that allowed me to make myself showroom fresh while not flooding the entire bathroom. 

Options are location and flooring.  As long as I’m near a Conad (major grocery chain) and a pharmacy, I’m pretty flexible.  As I’ve mentioned before, Tirana is stupidly convenient so as long as I’m not on the very edges of the city, this shouldn’t be a problem.  If it is an option, I would prefer to be near the mosque so I can hear the call to prayer.  I’d like wood flooring over tile and now, after this place, bonus points if it’s 

I would love to return to my blissful state of being a crazy cat lady, so it would be nice if the building allows pets.  Although my current job doesn’t pay me enough for that, I will continue to find new ways of stacking my paper.

Since my first run-in with a real estate website was a bust (still haven’t heard anything from them) I tried a different one.  I expressed interest in one place, telling the realtor that I wanted a 6-month lease.  The response was that they only do one-year leases.  Okay, could I still see the place?  And … crickets. 

I know I attract bugs, but this is getting kinda ridiculous.

To Tirana with a Purpose

 

No shade to Montenegro.  I do love the country as it is very pretty, but I hadn’t been so ready to leave a location in a while.  My urge to leave the place wasn’t anywhere near Jamaica or Costa Rica levels, but with all the issues I had while there, I was pumped to be anywhere else.

I still wish I could have booked a bus ticket as it would have saved me a stack of cash.  But at least the journey back to Tirana through Belgrade went off without a hitch.  After a few hours, I was back in Albania.

And, yeah, it felt like coming home.  The country doesn’t fit the same place in my heart as Portugal (still miss the place while realizing I haven’t been back in almost a year!) but I embraced the familiarity. 

I easily caught a cab to my new home where the host, Sotir, would meet me.  He was a very nice man who led me through yet another coffin-like elevator up to the 8^th floor.  Except the display said it was the 7^th floor.  Okay. 

Getting out of the elevator, he led me to a heavy metal gate blocking the stairs to the apartment.  This is the only such gate in the building, as I would discover later.  The people who lived in the apartment next door just wanted this heavy, locked gate in front of the stairs leading to their apartment.  Okay.

Sotir pointed out that there was a small air conditioning unit on the floor in the bedroom, not one mounted on the wall with a remote as in the living room.  He turned it on and assured me that despite the plastic being horribly burned by previous guests (still not sure how that happened) it would cool the room off just fine.  Uh – no.  The first night using it, the room kept getting hotter with the door closed.  The second night, I didn’t bother with that machine and just kept the door open while running the unit in the living room.  It was still so hot I barely got any sleep.  I slept on the couch the rest of my stay.  At least it was cool and comfortable so … okay.

Other than that stuff, the apartment is decent enough.  A good amount of counter space in the kitchen, a nice sized bedroom (that, again, I only used for storing my clothes after the first few nights), a tiny, angled balcony … and yet another example of my issues with European bathrooms.  Shower curtain, yes (and a lighted cubbyhole for product – nice), but no lip on the floor to keep the water in one place.  I quickly learned to not turn the shower on full blast in order to have some part of the floor remain dry.  Really?

Sotir eagerly pointed out the other benefits of the place.  It was located above a dentist office and a restaurant in a building on the edge of the city center.  He also gave me an extensive tutorial on the movie app he’d loaded on the TV (though I never did use it – I just kept forgetting to turn the thing on).  He even checked on me by text the next day to see that I was alright.  I never require such direct input from hosts, but it is appreciated.

After he left, I did have to ask him about the WI-FI password.  Yes, he had pointed it out to me and I thought I got it but … yeah.  What I thought were symbols that I kept trying to plug in with no luck, were actually all numbers.  What does this look like to you?  Because to me they look like hieroglyphics. 

But as I wasn’t back in Tirana to explore the city or merely squat for my usual three months, I quickly set out to find a more permanent place to live.  Apartments in the city can be pretty cheap, as low as 300 euros for a two-bedroom.  I logged onto a site and began looking.

Picking out three that I liked with the same realtor, I texted an agent and arranged to see a place near the American Embassy.  Out of the three, it was the one I was most looking forward to seeing as the location is awesome.  It was the most expensive of the three at 600 euros a month (about 750 USD), but I figured it was worth a look.

Except no one showed up to the showing.  I had walked across town to get to the place and ended up waiting around for around an hour for someone to show up.  My text to the realty office initially said there was an agent in the area, then it was that the owner had a medical emergency and we’d have to reschedule.  Disappointed but understanding, I walked back to my apartment.

A few hours later, the office texted me again.  The owner was now about to go on vacation.  The only time I could see the place was at 6 that evening.  I was already tired from my day and had no interest in going back out so soon.  Besides, the apartment was a 4-floor walkup in an old building.  No elevator in this heat?  I passed, figuring I’d get a chance to the see the other two places I’d picked out.

And … crickets.  Never heard anything back from that realtor.  Despite all of the supposedly available apartments around the city, this search might be more difficult than I thought.

Okay. I've Had Enough.

 

 

Time to move again.  Tried to book this place for another week but it was a no go.  Life of a nomad.

Once again, I had the host call a cab for me.  We had to wrestle with GPS in order to find my new digs as all of my texts and calls went ignored.  The car ended up in a dead-ended parking lot with the apparent location near by so I paid the guy and hoofed it the rest of the way.

I arrived at what I thought was the building only to realize that there were no instructions anywhere as to get into the place.  I texted the host again while waiting in the lobby before I started to feel very awkward.  Hauling my junk back down the ramp, I waited on the side of the road.

I knew I was early for my check-in.  It was the usual gap between 10-11 a.m. checkout and a 3 p.m. checkin.  So I waited.  And waited.  Have I mentioned how much I love to wait?  In the hot sun with all my crap and still no contact from the host?  Good times.

I thought maybe the host would send an automated text at my check in time.  But that was at 3:00 and it wasn’t even noon yet.  Great.  Since I had not eaten all morning, I figured I’d find go something.   So with heavy heart and heavy luggage, I dragged everything down to the nearest restaurant for a meal and a wait. 

That is definitely one thing I love about European establishments – they don’t care how long you sit around.  The wait staff won’t even bother you to pay.  I usually have flag someone down to give them my money.

There was a nice beach near the restaurant so when I got tired of sitting there, I went to sit by the water, still waiting for a word from my host.  When 3 p.m. hit, I started to head back to the apartment.  But before I climbed back up that hill, I realized that there was no guarantee that I was even at the right building.  Feeling at a complete loss, on thought kept running through my head.

I am done with Montenegro.

I didn’t even want to stay for another week.  I was ready to just head to the airport.  Instead, I checked on a couple of motels I passed and asked if they could put me up for the night.  Nope. Then I figured to just find something on Booking.com.  That site saved me back in Greece when I was at the airport and had no idea where I was going so I called on it again.  Found a vacancy then flagged a cab.

For once, I actually got someone to stop … but he refused to take me.  He said the place was too close and he could only do rides to the airport.  Sigh.

Guy, I’m exhausted.  I’ve been walking in the hot sun, dragging all my worldly possessions while wondering where I’m going to lay my head for the night.  And my phone battery is dying.  I have money to give you to do your job and you refuse to take it.

I am SO done with Montenegro.

Fine.  Let the weary tourist drag her stuff up yet another hill while dodging cars on the narrow road and hope her battery doesn’t die while using the GPS.  Fortunately, I found the place, the owner was at the gate and sent her sons to get me up the 3 flights of stairs (ugh).  The room was small and clean and the host told me that she and her sons were about to go to the beach and would be back later to collect the money and get a picture of my passport.

While my phone was charging, I called Airbnb support to figure out what to do.  The guy said he’d try to call the host then get back to me.  I headed out for some dinner.   

Sitting in a very loud restaurant, Airbnb called me back.  They hadn’t had any more luck than I had in reaching the hosts.  Since I’d already arranged for a new place, I told him that the only thing he could do for me is give me my money back.  He said no problem.  I did indeed get my refund a few days later.

People complain about Airbnb a lot but I’ve been using them almost exclusively for three years.  This is the first time I’ve had a host ghost me and I’m glad the issue could be resolved so quickly.

Next morning:  you know the drill.  Call me a cab, host lady, so I can get to the next place.  The amiable driver drove us out of the city center and down a back road with nothing but houses on it.  After several wrong turns, asking directions of a woman passing by and calls to a host who actually picked up this time, and we found our way to the house.  You know, the one we originally passed because it was under heavy construction?  Yeah, that’s the place.

Really Montenegro?

The host lived in the private house and rented out the two rooms above his place.  He showed me in … and I realized why this place was so cheap.

Studio, tiny kitchen, a shower stall that’s only half-enclosed.

A bed so low to the ground that I have to climb my way out.  Not a mini-fridge like the last place, a fridge that was also so low that I had to bend over to get anything.  I’m an old lady who’s been sleeping in strange beds for three years – could you cut a sister a break?

Nope.

While the patio is lovely (more grape vines!), I couldn’t spend any time out there because of the constant construction.  The workers used the patio to set up and get to the roof. At one point, they asked me to turn off the air conditioner while they were painting just outside my door.

I’d already figured that this was my last week in the country so I figured to just grin and bear it.  My breaking point came when, after a rare afternoon of quiet, the distinct sound of construction began at the prime hour of 9 p.m. on a Sunday.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  Like it’s not bad enough the place is in the middle of nowhere and was built for a little person, but now I have to message the host to tell them not to start a buzzsaw over my head when I’m about to go to sleep.  Seriously?

The next morning, as I left the apartment to head to the grocery store, one of the men working on the house stopped me.  Speaking no English, he pantomimed driving while smiling at me so I assumed he was offering me a ride.  Thanks, but one, I need the exercise, and two, who are you again?  I’ve seen people hitchhiking in this country but I’m still not comfortable with it (says the person who has regularly used Uber in foreign countries).

After I got back, I encountered the same guy.  He came up the stairs with me to help me get through the ladders and mess that the guys had made.  A few minutes later I heard a knock on the door.  That guy, smiling gray-haired guy, held up a plate covered in a red napkin.  A nice assortment of Montenegrin treats waited beneath.

Does the plate of goodies make up for the noise?  H@ll no.  But it was still a nice gesture.

Despite being close to the airport, I tried to get a bus ticket back to Albania.  From Tivat it’s only about 5-6 hours away for a ticket price of around 50 bucks.  But every time I tried to book a bus, whether late night or during the day, the website kept saying that everything was booked.  Seriously? 

Frustration about all things has been the name of the game for months now.

So instead I booked an overpriced plane ticket through Belgrade again and back to Tirana.  As long as I got out of the country in one piece, it was all good.

Back to Tivat Center

 

Can’t say I was upset about leaving that place.

I do have to note, though, that the host was very nice.  When I asked about a kettle (yep, I’m European now), he not only brought me one but also a coffee machine from one of the other units he rented out.  When I asked about a clothesline, he pointed me to the line used by the family which was located in their lovely garden area. 

That garden was another one covered in trellises and grape vines.  I asked him about harvest time (sometime in September) and did they eat the grapes, use them for wine, or what.  He said the family ate them.  That was surprising to me as there were a lot of grapes.

At the end of my stay, the host was also gracious enough to extend my check-out time as there was no one else scheduled in the place.  He also called a cab and kept in contact with the driver as there was a delay in his arrival.  I still couldn’t recommend the place because of the mold and mosquitos, but I also couldn’t trash the place in a review on the website.  I just thanked him for the hospitality and wished him the best.

After waiting for about an hour for the cab to arrive (at least I had some shade from the fruit trees and it wasn’t too hot), I was off to my next home for the week.  This time I actually did make it back to Tivat proper as I wasn’t eager to pay for another expensive cab ride to get to any other city.  Besides, I knew I’d be leaving the country soon and didn’t want to be too far away from the airport.

The host, like the last couple of places, lived on the property.  He was there to greet me and get my back up the three million stairs to my new place.  Upon opening the door, he immediately detected and odor.  I’d just come from mold central so it took me a minute.  He, however, recognized it as coming from the shower.  His brother soon came up to fix it followed by another brother (3 brothers in total – I asked) carrying a brand-new clothesline.  I was just about to ask for one while brother #1 told me this replaced the one broken by the previous guests.  Well, maybe if it wasn’t one of the plastic ones, it would last longer.  I prefer the metal ones.

Yep.  I’m European now.

Every apartment, in Montenegro in particular, seems to be a trade-off.  I wasn’t eaten alive by mosquitos in this place, but at least the old place had an oven and ample counter space.  It had a full-size fridge as opposed to a mini-fridge -- I do hate mini-fridges.  This place has a decent shower and no smell of mold (the shower was fine after cleaning), but I spent the week wedging myself between the sink and the washing machine just to get to the toilet.

I’m too old for this sh!t.

But again, the location was killer, just a short distance away from Jadranka’s place and even closer to the shops and harbor.  And another thing I’ll note.  This was one of the rare places that had electrical outlets for days.  There was even one outside on the balcony.  Nice.