New Apartment, New Passport, and More to See in Tirana

 

I was not going to miss that last place.

As has become my habit while in Tirana, I arranged for a week in the new place to start the day before I had to be out of the old place.  This allowed me to take my time to pack and clean up without having a gap between the usual 10 or 11 a.m. checkout and the 2 or 4 p.m. check in.

This time the cab ride was an easy one. The host sent me a link to an easy to find restaurant.  We pulled up and not 5 minutes later, the host appeared to take me to the entrance to the building located next door to the restaurant.

The new digs are small, not as ‘eclectic’ as the last place (which was obviously someone’s home – not my favorite places to stay), and doesn’t have all the amenities of the last place.  But it’s functional, clean, bug-free, and in a great location.  I can work with this.

I do like this city.  I’d even go so far to say that it’s good enough to put Albania on the list of places I can live after Türkiye and Cyprus (Portugal ain't never leaving the top of the list). The only reason Tirana is at the back of the list is because the city is landlocked.  I really need to be by the ocean now.  

But at least this new apartment puts me closer to the lake.

There's no swimming, which sucks because of the heat, but it's still a nice place to hang out.  There's a trail that goes all the way around (about 4 miles) and other trails that connect to the wooded part of the park.  Good exercise and great views along with some ducks wandering around.

And now for part two of ‘Daphne’s Trip to the American Embassy in Tirana, Albania’. 

It had been about 2 ½ weeks since I’d applied for my new passport and I received an email telling me it was ready to be picked up. Nice.  I was concerned for a while that the current state of my home country would lead to delays, but nope.  Cool!

I walked to the embassy, showed them my passport, and let them know that I received the email.  “Did you print it out?”  No.  The email didn’t say to print anything and it specifically said I didn’t need an appointment.  “Okay.  Wait until we call.”

More waiting in the hot sun.  At least this time when I got to security, I was a seasoned vet.  I already knew to take out my USB drive, MP3 player, and phone.  Went through security thinking everything was gravy when the guy came over and asked to see the umbrella in my bag.  Okay.  Though you obviously already know it’s an umbrella.

Then he wanted to see my keys, asking to take off the little light on my key ring.  Are you kidding?  It’s a light!  I barely remembered it was on there and even had to confirm later that the thing still worked.

Then he wanted me to take a sip from my Yeti. 

What. 

It’s water, my dude!  It’s the same container of ice water I carried through with no issues the last time.  Because June is hot as balls in Tirana and I drink a lot of water.

Sigh.  I sipped the water.  Look at that.  I didn’t poison myself.  What do you want to see now, the filling in my f889ing tooth?

Finally, they let me through to the other building.  After checking in, I sat down to calm myself.  It’s not a big deal.  Bureaucracy sucks, but what are you gonna do?  Eyes on the prize and keep the blood pressure in check.  And remember, this embassy trip still beats having to go back to the states.

After a few minutes, I was called back to the same guy I’d spoken to before.  He smiled and said, “that didn’t take too long, now did it?”  Nope.  And for that I was grateful.  A quick inspection of the new doc led to me signing it while he punched holes in my old passport.  Then I was on my merry way.

Phew.  No worries about too few pages in this baby.  I ordered the one with double the pages, the expiration date is now 2035 instead of 2032, and it is so shiny!

They Can't All Be Gems

 

Time to move to a different part of the city.  At the very least, Tirana is a great city to stick around in while I wait for my passport to come back.  It's also easy to haul all my crap from one place to the next as there are taxis everywhere.

Unfortunately, Albania has the same problem with addresses that Portugal has.  The only info I get from the Airbnb website comes from the owner of the place and that info is spare at best.  I can only tell the cabbies what I’ve been given and we both end up having to figure things out from there.

This move is the third time that the cab has brought me to the approximate location.  And this dude kept passing the place before he would let me out.  Even after we’d stopped at a second location and I’d paid him, he insisted that I get back in because our GPSs hadn’t quite synched up.

Dude, while I appreciate your dedication to get me to the right address, please let me out of the car.  I’ll figure the rest out on my own.

He did drop me off near the near place, but it still wasn’t near enough.  Once he left, I kept trying to orient myself based on the pictures provided by the host, but I just couldn’t find the place.  My confused tourist vibes came to the rescue again as a passing man on the street was able to point me in the right direction.  Seriously, if he hadn’t helped, I’d still be lost.

Located down this sketchy looking alley, I wondered (not for the first time during this journey) what I’d gotten myself into.  Each of these places seemed to get worse than the last and, despite the homey looking pictures on the website, I had my doubts about this new place.

Turns out I was right to be apprehensive.

Everything in life is a matter of tradeoffs.  That holds just as true for apartments.  I wasn’t crazy about the last place compared to the first place I stayed in Tirana (nice place that I could see going back to). But the new place actually makes me long for the last one.

The last place:  8^th floor apartment best accessed by a creaky coffin-sized elevator, but the building was in a good location.

The new place: located on the first floor, but hard to find.  Getting to the main road requires a risky shimmy between parked cars and on-coming traffic.  The coffin-like elevator would be replaced with a coffin-like shower stall (more on that later).

The last place: great views, but noisy as it overlooked a busy intersection.

The new place: quiet, but no view.  And dark even in the middle of the day.

The last place: very little cookware, busted stovetop, and no microwave, but spacious.

The new place: ample cookware, microwave, and the place is a decent size, but it’s still missing basic items like dishwashing liquid and toilet paper.

The last place:  beautiful shower with no curtain/partition.  I chose not to wash my hair that week for this reason.  I already made enough of a mess just cleaning myself.

The new place:  enclosed shower, but it was a tiny corner model.  I washed my hair on my first full day and can’t count the number of times I hit my elbows in that thing.

And the clincher: the new place has a broken toilet seat.

I encountered this issue in Cyprus and made the same assumption I made then.  Whoever cleaned the bathroom knew of the issue, but didn’t bother to fix it. Just allowed it to be a nice surprise for the next sucker -- I mean guest. 

I let the host know so she wouldn’t accuse me of anything.  To her credit, the day after I texted her, she had her husband and a plumber come by to fix it.  So, a point to her.

Still won’t be enough points to put this place in the positive.

The dining chairs are very uncomfortable.  I couldn’t sit in them too long or my ankles would start to swell (one of the side effects of my HBP meds).  That only left the sofa on which to sit – a sofa that is way too close to the ground and murder to get out of.  My knees are not happy.

The patio door was open when I arrived.  If you’ve been reading the blog for a minute, you know my issues with Europe and screens … and my issues with bugs.  I spent the first night in a strange bed getting repeatedly stung by mosquitoes.

The water heater in the bathroom leaks after a shower.  The flushing mechanism for the toilet is tricky – the thing made noise for hours before I realized that I had to jiggle the push button to reset it. 

I hate this place.

The one nice thing I can say (other than the responsiveness of the host) is that the refrigerator is big and tall.  The lower part doesn’t want to close, though, unless I really push it. 

Yeah.  I don’t think I’ll be extending my stay in this place either.

But there is something I’ve been enjoying in every apartment: they don’t show commercials on Albanian YouTube!  That is so refreshing as I spend way too much time watching videos.  In every other country I’ve been in, any video longer than 8 minutes will have at least 3 commercial breaks.  It is truly insane.

One last note; the Albanian word for the day is Shqiperise (written without the accents).  I kept seeing this word everywhere with no idea what it meant.  Then I realized that it’s also on the local currency.  It’s the name of the country in their language. 

Albania!  Who knew?

Adventures Continue in Tirana

 

Summer has hit Tirana right in the face.  The days are sunny with record high temperatures most days (high 80’s to low 90’s F).  That doesn’t stop people from getting out in it.  The city is still just as busy as always.

Something I noticed while walking the streets.  Even in the heat, most women don’t wear shorts.  Lots of airy pants and tops and a surprising number of all black outfits make them look a lot more put together than me, the sweaty tourist.  Also, most of the younger ladies have long straight hair.  Really long, like to the waist or beyond.  Impressive and very pretty.

And now an account of ‘Daphne’s Trip to the American Embassy in Tirana, Albania’.  When I originally scouted out the location of the embassy, I figured I could go into the lobby and get more info on getting more pages in my passport.  Nope.  Security is so tight that you can’t even enter the building without an appointment.  I waited until I returned to the apartment to look up the requirements.

As they did not provide services to add pages, turns out I’d have to get a new passport.  The cost would be a $130 and would take 2-3 weeks for the doc to come back from the states.  Pretty standard for getting a new passport while in the county except I wouldn’t have to fly back there to wait for it.  Just hang around Tirana for an email telling me that the embassy received the passport, then I can go pick it up.

They did require paperwork, of course.  My first attempt to fill out the form online stalled for some reason.  Then it took me a couple of attempts to fill out the payment info.  I made the appointment online and was then told I needed to print everything out as the embassy had no printer.

Why?  They regularly deal with tourists and immigrants who might not have access to a printer.  Why make me wander around the city looking for one?  Eh.  Because it’s still the U.S. government.  That’s why.

The day of my appointment arrived and I’d scoped out a place to print all my info.  The lovely man who ran the copy place didn’t even charge me for the 10 pages I printed, just handed me back my USB drive and waved me off when I asked what I owed him (thanks again, sir).  I headed to the embassy, got redirected from one entrance to another, waited in a short line outside to confirm my appointment (the lady didn’t even need the confirmation they’d asked me to print out, only asking for my passport), then waited some more outside in the hot sun.

Once I finally got inside, I was suddenly at the airport again.  Security took all my electronics (phone, MP3 player that I forgot was in my bag, and the USB drive), putting them in storage before waving me through the scanner.  At least they let me keep my Yeti full of water as they sent me back outside through a small courtyard to another part of the building.  Flashed my passport again to another assistant then waited in the overheated sitting area to be called.

When it was my time, the Albanian man behind the window was very nice as he asked how he could help me.  I gave him all the paperwork, including the receipt for my online payment, and the spare picture I had from two years ago when I got my most recent passport.  Barring any issues, I’ll have the new doc in a couple weeks.

Traveler’s tip:  I picked up a tip that it was a good idea to have an extra passport-ready picture with you while traveling, just in case.  I’m very glad I followed this advice as it saved me the trouble of trying to find a photographer and paying for more pics.  Also good to carry a copy of your birth certificate and passport/ID.

I extended my stay in the place for a few extra days which was all I could book as the place was not available.  Otherwise, I would have booked it for the rest of the month.  It’s a nice place and you can’t beat the location.

But, alas, I had to leave.  At least it was easy to catch a cab since at least three are parked outside of the building at all times.  A quick $5 ride and I was left to find the new place and … yeah.

The elevator is the size of a coffin, barely big enough to fit me and my bags.  The doors are stupidly slow, the elevator clunky as it takes me to the 8^th floor.  

The apartment itself is a mixed bag.  While a nice size and cheap, the kitchen is woefully understocked.  No microwave (the listing lied), no corkscrew, or small cooking pot.  The stovetop is gas (yay) but the burners don’t work (seriously!).  Fortunately, the stove was functional but that’s all I could expect.

I got so seduced by the pictures in the listing of the lovely tile work in the shower that I failed to notice that there is no curtain or partition.  Showering means just nakedness, an open window, and free-flying water.  Great.

Sadly, I can’t hear the call to prayer on this side of town.  What I do hear (constantly) are honking cars. The apartment is on the corner of the building overlooking an insanely busy intersection.  Rush hour is absolutely nuts with the pedestrians, motorcycles, and emergency vehicles trying to turn directly into oncoming traffic – it is a mess.

So, no. I won’t be extending my stay in this place beyond a single week.  Hopefully I can get back to the other side of town.

Tirana Exposed

 

Green is the name of the game in Tirana.  There are trees everywhere.  One of the things l always liked about Atlanta’s skyline is that it is heavily dotted with wild trees.  Tirana is even better with that.  The buildings are kinda worn down and built all atop each other, but the vibrant bursts of green brings it all together.

My first night in town, I had a yummy pizza at a place right across the street from my building.  I ordered a strawberry basil drink and watched my waiter go out the front door and pick the herb from the little box just outside.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.

After a good night’s sleep, I headed out to the grocery store I’d scoped out in the basement of the mall (love that about European malls).  I was a bit early and the doors weren’t open yet, so I began to wander around. 

The city, again bustling with people, reminds me of so many other places.  The red rooftops of Portugal, the mosque of Türkiye, and, oddly enough, the tree lined streets of D.C.  I haven’t been to that city in decades and yet I sensed a bit of it in Tirana.

Speaking of trees, I passed this gorgeous café on my wanderings. 

I did a circle, retracing my steps to get back to the grocery store and had to stop again to just stare at it.  While I was standing there, gawking like a goober, some random guy sitting at the café drinking his coffee beckoned me in.  I hadn’t planned on eating breakfast out but … okay!

This is the Millenium Garden Café and it is all about the vibes.  The bar is in the middle of the outdoor space with chairs all around and living green things everywhere.  It’s like dining in a treehouse.  So cool!

I was eating my Royal Breakfast

when something fell on my chest.  I assumed it was a leaf … until it stung me.  Only as I brushed the object away did I realize that it was a bee.

Huh?  I’ve never been stung by a bee in my life.  Why did this one decide to sting me?  I didn’t even see it before the pain so it couldn’t have been anything I did.

I took the stinger out and noticed the bee flopping around on the ground.  That just made me paranoid that something else might attack me.  Bugs do love me after all.  As the area on my chest began to swell, I checked my face for any other signs of reactions, taking deep breaths to make sure my air passage wasn’t closing up.

I finished my meal, picked up my groceries, and got back to the apartment.  By then the redness had disappeared, but the welt remained and would occasionally itch. That sucked, but at least now I know I’m not allergic to bees.

This body has never been runway ready (and never will be), but it is strong.  I am always grateful for that.

*****

The country’s currency is the Albanian Lek with a current exchange rate of 86.8 Lek/1 USD.  English is widely spoken which is awesome.  As I mentioned when I visited Montenegro, I still have too much Portuguese and Turkish in my brain to process any other language.

Fun fact:  the Albanian word for hello is pershendetje.  There are some accents on the word that I can’t do with this keyboard. 

Yeah, no.  Sorry, Albanians.  There are Turkish words that are easier to say than that.  Now that’s saying something.    

Something I’ve noticed while walking around the city.  I’ll go out on a limb and say that Albania is a very pale nation.  Despite that, not one person stares at me like they’ve never seen a black person before.  They’re too busy minding their own business.  Hell, I stare more at the rare black person that I see. 

There are places in the U.S. that would have me getting strange looks for “not belonging there” despite being born in the country along with my parents and grandparents.  This speaks more to the bone-deep racism of my home country than to the progressiveness of the Albanians.

This place is almost a little too convenient. Cafe culture is big here as it is across Europe and there are multiple shops within feet of the apartment.  Along with all the random trees, there are several parks and playgrounds amidst the traffic and mountains as well as one huge park about a mile from my place.  The building below is the arena that is surrounded by restaurants and shops that are open even if there's no event going on. 

The university is nearby as is the American Embassy. I sought out this building because I'm running out of pages in my passport.  I thought the only fix was to return to the states, something I absolutely dread.  Turns out, the embassy should be able to handle it.  I initially thought that I'd at least have to get a cab to get to the place, but nope.  It's about a 10-minute walk from the apartment.  Unbelievable.

(I haven't gotten the passport situation settled yet as I have to make an appointment first.  That should be interesting.) 

Coming back from brunch one day (an Albanian breakfast which was pretty tasty),

I went on the search for a bookstore.  It was in yet another mall that was even closer to the apartment than the one I visited before.  It’s mostly empty, though, which makes me think that it’s an older mall and the other is the big draw.  But this is the one with a bookstore that has a decent English section.  It also has a supermarket on the first floor.

Books in hand, I was heading back to the apartment and noticed that a pharmacy was open.  On a Sunday.  Not only did the pharmacist speak English, but she carried my pills.  They weren’t as cheap as in Türkiye (still the winner in the drug Olympics) but they’re close.

Are you kidding me with this?  Is it just me or is this place kind of awesome? 

It’s very impressive considering where the country was just a few years ago.  This video on the country's history came out just as I arrived in Albania.  It was eye-opening.

On to a New Country

 

Alas, that time has come again.

It's time to leave Portugal.  I am so tired of writing that phrase.

But there’s nothing for it.  I’m still trying to get the store to be profitable.  I published an eBook last month for anyone looking to start their own solo travel journey Amazon.com: Have Fro, Will Travel: Tips for the Solo Female Traveler eBook : Squire, D J: Kindle Store, but still no sales yet.  And until I can get the money coming in, I can’t secure my visa.  I’ll have to remain nomadic for now. 

I have no interest in returning to the states, even for a visit.  All this travel might necessitate one, though.  More on that later.

I told myself that I would not return to Türkiye as my fallback position.  Yes, it’s familiar and comfortable for me to go there, but there are plenty of other places to visit that do not fall within the Schengen Zone.  After already being in my three favorite countries this year (Cyprus, Türkiye, and Portugal), it was time to try somewhere new.

I had heard good things about the capital city of Tirana, Albania.  It was supposedly very supportive of tourists aa English is widely spoken (Americans are so behind the rest of the world in their grasp of other languages).  The country is not in Schengen, no visas are required for Americans, and, at least according to one website, U.S. citizens can remain in the country for up to a year on their passport alone.  Cool!

There were some worries in making my new plans.  I couldn’t get a direct flight from Faro Airport but managed to get one that only took 6 hours with one layover.  The problem with that is the flight was at 8:30 a.m. and Portimão is an hour away from the airport.  I was nervous about finding a ride at 5 a.m. to get me there in time. 

Some of the sites I studied for my upcoming trip said that while I wouldn’t need a visa, Immigration would want to document my housing, check my account balance to make sure I had the roughly 50 euros a day to remain, and they’d want to see my return ticket.  Damn, would they want a blood sample as well?

I prepared as much as I could for the trip, but I was at a loss for the recommended proof of vaccination.  I lost that card from the CDC months ago.  No one has asked for it during my entire journey and I was hoping that would remain the case.

I wasn’t sure if this new country would carry my medication.  For those who don’t know, Albania is located north of Greece (in Schengen, carry my pills) and south of Montenegro (not in Schengen, do not carry my pills) so I wasn’t sure where it would fall in the spectrum. 

I have gotten very spoiled lately as each of my favorite countries carries my pills with no issues.  I’d allowed the supply to dwindle down to less than a month's worth.  I spent my last full day in Portugal stockpiling pills just in case.  I also explored a new part of the boardwalk that I missed out on the last time I was in town.

(I do love this city.  I’ll have to resist the urge to go back any time soon as there are so many other cities to visit in Portugal.)

Moving day arrived and … went off without a hitch.  I easily found an Uber and got to the airport in plenty of time.  I got on the plane (Bye Portugal!  I’ll be back as soon as I can!), headed to Stuttgart, Germany (Hey!  A new country!), made a way too long visit to Passport Control, then boarded the plane to Albania.

Landing in the airport after 1 ½ hours (and no food since they nickel and dime you for everything on Eurowings), it was time to go through Immigration.  After a very long wait that made me nervous … I sailed through with no issues.  The guy just looked at my passport, stamped it, and sent me through.  I didn’t have to answer any questions or provide any other info.  Whew.

I LOVE it when I expect a hassle and don’t get one.  And I still have the ticket I booked to get me back to Portugal in 3 months.

I was immediately reminded of Montenegro upon landing as the same mountain range is shared with Albania.  After being handed over from one taxi guy to another, I finally got a ride into the city.  My driver was from Egypt and spent most of the long trip speaking to someone on the phone in Arabic.

Traffic made the 45-minute trip take over an hour.  Just like in Montenegro, there’s only one major highway and both lanes were completely clogged.  In addition to that, the driver’s phone showed a different route than the one I got from the Airbnb site so we ended up going to the wrong address first.

The streets of Tirana are just as narrow as those in Türkiye.  Multiple times we had to back up on a street because there was another car coming directly into our way.  Add the pedestrians and bikers and parked cars and I was wincing through most of the trip.  I will hand it to these drivers though, they know what they are doing.  They are highly skilled at managing the streets.  I’m also glad that I don’t have to navigate them in a car.  Walking looks dangerous enough.

The host of my new home for the week had another lady meet me at the cab, saving me the trouble of having to contact anyone.  Awesome.  The lady showed me in, very carefully pointing out the features of the place.  This is a nice size apartment.  The pictures did it justice.

After she left, I got unpacked, set up my computer, and headed out for a meal.  I hadn’t eaten all day and was starving.

One thing I will say about Tirana – this city is hopping!  The streets are busy, there are tons of pedestrians, bikes everywhere, and cafes full of people.  This was a warm Wednesday night in late May, but you’d think it was a Saturday with as many people that were around.  Just walking around to get my bearings before it got dark, I found several restaurants, pharmacies, a park, and a mall within just a few blocks of the apartment.

And then there’s this. 

A little touch of Türkiye in Tirana.  There’s even a kitten hanging around and multiple calls to prayer!  Love that!

Spring has Sprung in Portimao

 

There are now more sunny days than not in Portimão and I’m grateful for them.  The signs of spring are everywhere, both the good

And the bad.

I’ve extended my stay in the apartment for the remainder of my time in Schengen.  It’s still not the pink palace or even the last place I stayed in, but I’ve settled in and don’t feel like moving.  The hyper kid who lived upstairs was apparently just a renter.  There are now a bunch of dudes who party late and come in talking all loud and scraping the chairs across the floor.

Not ideal but still better than that freaking kid.

Monday 4/28/25 rolled around, sunny and bright.  It was hair wash day, so I’d planned to spend a good chunk of time indoors.  The morning was going well, and I was in the process of washing out the last of the conditioner when the power went out.  This was around 11 a.m.

I checked the breaker box to make sure it wasn’t me.  I’d had this problem in the last apartment in Portimão when I tried cooking dinner using three burners while the oven was on.  But the only thing I had on this time was my computer and the light in the bathroom.  It couldn’t be me.

I finished up my hair and decided to go out.  Seeing the emergency lights on in the hallway confirmed that the whole building was indeed out of power.  No worries.  I’d walk to the beach, which was about a mile away, confident that the power would be on there.

I took my usual route to the water, taking extra time to watch the waves.  The wind was kicking up something fierce.  It meant there were few people on the beach but there were some folks who were wind and kite surfing.

I love watching kite surfers.  Anytime someone catches some wicked air it puts a huge grin on my face.

Sighing, as it’s always hard for me to turn my back on the water, I headed back to the boardwalk on the hunt for some lunch.  I passed by a bunch of people lining up for one ATM and thought it odd.  There were several other ATMs around and I’d never seen such a long line for a single one.

It didn’t occur to me that something bigger was wrong.

I saw a couple of restaurants, including the one I wanted to go to, appear to be open … but not really.  Either there were chairs across the entrances or the staff were just milling around.  The few restaurants that were open were insanely crowded.

Still didn’t occur to me that something bigger was wrong.  A lot of restaurants in this area are closed on Mondays after being open all weekend.

Once one of the restaurants cleared out a bit, I went in and sat down.  When I placed my order, the guy kept saying no because the power’s out.  He then explained that this was a COUNTRY-WIDE issue and not just in Portugal.  He mentioned Spain and France were out as well.

What.  The.  Hell?

Spain and Portugal hit by major power outage

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; the world is going to hell in a handbasket.

I got by relatively easy.  I had cash on me.  I was on foot and not reliant on a car when there are no traffic lights or a train/bus that runs on electricity.  But since I’ve never heard of a country-wide outage, I had no idea how others are coping with this … bizarreness.

I take that back.  At least on Praia da Rocha (Rock Beach), people were playing games and getting snockered as per usual.  No panicked people crying in the streets and rending their clothes.  This is Portugal. Chill is the name of the game here which is why it took me so long to catch on to this unique event.

I’m still not sure how the restaurant continued to function, but I was happy to have my steak and rice meal.  I figured it would be the last meal I’d have for the day as nothing I had in the apartment can be eaten cold.  As I ate, I noticed a bunch of people trying to get into their nearby hotel.  But since the door was electric … yeah.  I had the same issue in Türkiye and it is a serious problem.  The world is far too reliant on one system to get everything done.

Fortunately, that was not an issue for me this time.  The host had provided keys to the front gate and the door to the building, but I didn’t even need those.  The gates had both been propped open.  Then I just had to climb up 8 flights of stairs (fun!) only to discover that the water was out as well.  That’s new.  Never had that issue during a blackout in the states.  A few hours later, the Wi-Fi went down.  I was surprised that it stayed up as long as it did.

I read my book until I lost the light and then called it a night.  I had a feeling this would last a while so best to just buckle down.

The power came back on at 11:30 p.m.  How did I know the exact time even though I’d gone to sleep hours before?  A mighty cheer went up around the city that woke me up.  Lots of hollering and clapping.  These are probably the same people who’ve been drinking beer all day so they were well lubricated for the celebration.

I smiled in relief, got up to turn off the bathroom light, and went back to bed. 

I’ve mentioned multiple times that this journey has had a lot of weirdness in it.  The last few months have been pretty normal, relatively speaking.  I didn’t think I’d have anything else happen that would trip my weird meter.

I think this one takes the cake.

Another Trip Around the Sun

 

My month in the apartment was coming to an end.  Time is passing by so quickly it’s astonishing.

Since I couldn’t get into the pink palace, I considered visiting another city while in Portugal. But first, I once again checked for lodging in Funchal and … yeah.  The prices have gone nuclear.  Most places wanted $900-$1000 for a week’s stay.  These are the same 1-bedrooms I usually book, not entire houses or anything fancy.  Are you kidding? I was looking to pay that much for a month of lodging, not a single week.

So, I remain on the mainland.  Hey, it’s still Portugal.  I still love it here so … moving on.

I then considered other cities in the Algarve but then remembered that I’m cheap and also still comfortable in Portimão.  Leaving here would require taxis or shuttles to get to nearby cities and the thought of doing that so soon was too much for me to handle.

The company that owns both apartments I’ve stayed in owns other properties in the area.  I chose one that is a short walking distance away and made the transition.

I knew this place wouldn’t be as nice as the others. And I was correct.  But I’ve come to trust this rental company so I knew it would be a clean, decent place to stay for a few weeks.

One thing I didn’t count on was my upstairs neighbors. That apartment has children that sound like they’re playing hockey on a nightly basis.  Running back and forth, dropping stuff, scraping the wooden chairs on the tiled floors, and of course, the crying.  For hours.

I am so glad I don’t have kids!  I don’t even like to be around those things!

I got well acquainted with the noise because Portimão keeps doing a will-I-or-won’t-I thing with rain.  The mornings will usually be bright and sunny.  Then sometime around noon when I’m ready to go out for a walk, it will start to get dark and rumbly.   I’ve risked it a couple of times and ended up soaked, even with my umbrella. 

With all the unexpected time spent in the apartment, I’ve still managed to keep up with my haircare.  I decided to do an amla treatment (a mud mask made from Indian herbs). Mixing it up caused the powders to get into my nose and throat.  Applying the paste triggered a burning sensation on my skin.  Rinsing it out, I got some of it in my eyes that led to even more burning.

I think one of the powders was either expired or had gone through too many airport security scans. The result of all this was a persistently itchy scalp, congestion, and some seriously red and irritated eyes for several days.  Had me looking like Quasimodo just in time for my 54th birthday photo. 

Ahh … good times.

(Photo not included because again – Quasimodo.  My hair was the only thing that looked good in that shot.)

I did treat myself to a spa visit on my birthday.  It was a unique one to say the least.  I’d been to the spa before when I was in Portimão last year, but this massage was different.  Targeted for sleep and relaxation, the treatment involved an extensive face and belly massage in addition to the usual routine.  Lots of essential herbs and good smells.  And yes, it did make me sleepy.

The spa is located near the beach so, of course, I walked along the water.  It was a sunny warm day which brought out the crowds.  There were also a couple of setups for volleyball which attracted a bunch more people.  There’s always something going on at that beach.

A few days later, I was sitting at the dining room table on my computer when I heard a tapping sound behind me.  From the balcony.  I’m on the 8^th floor.

With trepidation, I turned around and found this guy standing at the sliding glass door.  When I tried to approach to get a picture, he flew onto the railing.

I’m used to attracting stray cats (even while pet-free, I’m still a crazy cat lady). I guess now I’ll start attracting birds as well.  Is that my birthday gift from the universe for turning 54?

No offense, but I’d rather have a steady source of income and a visa.

The Long Rocky Road Home

 

And continuing with the theme of little annoyances …

As I was packing up my stuff to leave the hotel, I broke the spoon rest I’d been using since Porto.  That thing lasted a whole year of travel and I break it in Georgia.  Nice.  I’m still going to use it though.

The flight I’d booked out of the country would take me to Philly and then onto Lisbon.  I actually prefer this method of getting out of the U.S. as it makes the transatlantic flight shorter (6 hours as opposed to the direct flight out of Türkiye that took 12 hours).  A good choice … except the flight got delayed.  Twice.  Then, for the first time ever in my traveling life, my flight got cancelled. 

Awesome!  Now what?

At least I’d already had a surprisingly good BBQ chicken pizza (served in a paper bag -- okay) so that I wasn’t starving during the delays.

I got into the very long line of disgruntled passengers for the front desk and heaved a great sigh.  I stood there for about 5-10 minutes, getting more annoyed as the through line for foot traffic was right in front of me, when my phone started pinging.  American Airlines had already rebooked me so there was no need to stand in line.  That was the good news.

The bad news was that instead of going to Philly, I was now headed to O’Hare (that airport is spooky), and Heathrow (yay!  Another stressful run-in with security!), on the way to Lisbon.  This route also meant that I would be too late to make my separate flight to Faro Airport and would have to rebook that one on my own.

Have I mentioned lately that I’m really tired of moving around so much?  That it’s the airports and the crowds, the waiting and the expense that is really getting on my nerves?  

I managed to get through O’Hare at a run so I wouldn’t notice the creepiness and quickly boarded my flight.  In Heathrow, my already tired self got into the stupidly long line for security and prepared for another hassle.  When my computer bag wasn’t flagged, I said Hallelujah so loud the woman next to me snickered.  Lady, you have no idea what I’ve gone through in this airport.

Happily, I arrived in Lisbon, an airport I know so well now I can maneuver around with ease. I was equally happy to see that my two checked bags made it to Lisbon with me (the cancelled flight had me worried). Except … where is the ticket booth for Tap Portugal?  I see the dedicated area for checking in bags, but what about arranging for a new flight?

After wandering around for a while, a woman pointed me in the right direction.  I got to the desk and explained my situation only to be told that the next flight was at 11 p.m. (it was around 3 in the afternoon) and for the privilege of waiting around in the airport for hours, I’d have to pay them another 150 euros.  Seriously?  For a 45-minute flight?

Titanically heavy sigh.

After being extorted, I got my ticket and grabbed a quick meal before heading to security.  This should be a breeze, right?  I mean, I’d traveled across the pond with everything intact and even avoided a long search at Heathrow.  So, nao faz mal (no worries in Portuguese), right?

Except … both of my bags had been checked for the overseas flight.  In order to do that, I had to shift some weight from the large roller bag to the small one.  One of the things I moved over was my big bottle of leave-in conditioner that I can’t get anywhere except from Amazon.  I’d also just filled it up so it was nice and full.

It’s trash now.  Thanks, Portuguese Security!

And I still had an hours-long wait for my flight.  I’d arrive in Faro after 11 after all the shuttle services were closed.  That meant another 100-euro taxi ride to the apartment – which the guy couldn’t even locate at first. And neither could I.

I mentioned in a previous post that the Google Fi service on my phone recently switched my home region from the U.S. to Portugal.  As expected, the service no longer worked in the U.S.  No big deal.  I’m still not a big phone user and most of the time I could just hook up to the hotel Wi-Fi if I needed anything.

Well, I’m back in my beloved Portugal.  Does my phone have full functionality in what is supposed to be my home country?  Nope.  I kept switching from Google Fi to the Esim I’ve been able to use in Cyprus, Türkiye, and Portugal and only the Esim will connect.  What am I paying Google Fi for again?  Oh, right.  Just to annoy and piss me off.

Just … why … this is ... I don’t even know.

The beauty part?  After all that, I finally did make it to the apartment in Portimão and I FREAKING LOVE PORTIMAO! I am very happy to be back here.  I couldn’t book the pink palace where I stayed for two months last year, but I scored a month in the other apartment I stayed in which is almost as good. 

 

And it's a good thing I like this apartment as I've spent more time inside than I'd planned.  The first week was marred with off and on rain almost every day.  The mornings would be sunny and glorious, then by the time I was ready to go out for a walk and lunch, the torrential rains would come.  Kind of annoying.

On one of the days I finally could get out, I went to the beach (of course).  After a long walk, I stopped by a restaurant I liked by the water.  As soon as I sat down, a waitress came over to remove the other 3 place settings.  She looked at me and said “Caipirinha?  Mr. T?”  I just stared at her.  The drink order was correct, but I didn’t recognize the Mr. T part.  I got the menu and noticed that Mr. T was their 30-euro steak entry.  Not what I ordered last time but similar to the steak that I did order.

THE WOMAN REMEMBERED MY FACE AND ORDER FROM 4 MONTHS AGO!!!  HOW?!  WHY?!

The waitstaff I’ve met on my travels have been wonderful.  They’re also a little scary.

Something else scary.  A little over a week after I arrived in Portimão, Heathrow was shut down because of a power outage.  Being a major hub, this disrupted travel for thousands of people.  It might take weeks to recover full function.  It looks like I slipped through just in time.

London’s Heathrow Airport closure causes global travel disruption

Short-Timing Istanbul

 

In travel, as in life, it’s the little annoyances that add up to a huge pain in the ass.

That pain started back in February while I was happily in Cyprus.  The renewal notice for my P.O. Box in the states was up for the year.  Okay.  I tried to log in to pay the bill, but my account had been disabled.  Okay.  Contacted USPS to get it enabled – never got a response.  Great.  Decided, screw it, I’ll send them a check and hope for the best.

Two weeks later, the check hadn’t cleared.  The expiration date on my contract was the last day of February, but the USPS gives you a grace period of ten days after that.  Tried calling the office in Georgia for confirmation that they had at least received the check even if they hadn’t cashed it and never got an answer.  As the date rapidly approached, I tried to open a new account and pay that way.  Nope.  The new account would only turn on automatic payments going forward – it would not allow me to pay the existing bill.

So, now what?

By this time, I had moved on to Istanbul with every intention of staying there until my visa expired in 90 days.  Now, with no other options that I could see and not wanting to risk having the box shut down and all my mail reforwarded, I was left with choice of last resort.

Sigh.

I did not want to return to the States … um … ever.  But certainly not so soon.  I’d just gotten off a plane and felt like my time in Türkiye passed way too quickly.  It didn’t help that the great apartment I’d landed in wasn’t available past the week, so I would have to move anyway.  Just getting out of the apartment was difficult enough in itself.

I mentioned in the last post that my most recent place couldn’t be found on Google Maps.  Apparently, that holds true for Uber as well.  Why does the GPS show my exact location but the driver has stopped a few blocks away?   We tried to message each other to connect, but I finally gave up and just started walking …

With all my crap, up a steep hill covered in uneven cobblestones.  Oy.  Fortunately, the cab/Uber pulled up behind me, so I didn’t have to go too far up that hill.

We had an easy trip to the airport.  I got out of the car and thanked him Turkish only for him to tell me that I owed him 2000 (about $50) lira.  Huh?  I’d used Uber to call him which means that my card would be charged.  I figured there had been a problem with the card as this had never happened to me before. He insisted I owed him money, taking out his calculator and showing me the amount.  I had no money on me – what the hell was I supposed to do?

The nearest ATM was inside, past the security scanners.  So, yes, leaving my luggage with the cabbie, I had to wade through security to get to the machine.  Cash in hand, I dashed back out only to find that the cab had disappeared.  This wasn’t a complete shock as I know you can only park in the drop-off area for a short time. But … where is he?

I wandered around for a good five minutes, getting increasingly upset and annoyed.  Finally, I spotted the guy and paid him.  It felt like paying off a kidnapper to get my luggage back, but I was so grateful he returned that I let it slide.

Thinking I’d resolve the issue later, I went through the usual rigmarole at the airport.  While I like Turkish Airlines and would prefer to just get a transatlantic trip over with as quickly as possible, I still had to prepare my butt for another 12-hour ride.

And that was a fun one, stuck in an aisle seat next to an elderly couple.  Any time the woman said anything, the man’s response was “Huh? Huh?”.  I didn’t know if he was hard of hearing or if he’d just learned to tune out his wife’s voice over the years.

Still irritated by the Uber issue, returning to the states, and the whole reason for the return in the first place, my first choice of in-flight entertainment didn’t help matters.  I’m a big Marvel fan and saw most of the movies in theatre through Avengers: Endgame.  I loved the first Deadpool movie and thought the second one was okay.  I was actually looking forward to seeing Deadpool and Wolverine … until the first scene.  I knew instantly that I wasn’t going to like the movie.  I was wrong.  I hated that movie.

It made my already bad mood truly take a nosedive.  I watched Inside Out 2 to try to lift my spirits.  It was okay.  Not nearly as good as the first movie, but it made for decent entertainment.

Back in the states and thrilled as always, I managed to get a shuttle directly to the rental car center.  Saved me a trip on the tram so that was some good news.  Not nearly enough to mitigate the outrageous price of car rental, but I’ll take what little perks I can get.

I drove the black Genesis car to the hotel.  Never even heard of this car company before and I’m not impressed.  The steering wheel would periodically jerk the car to the side, much to my chagrin while navigating the dark wet streets of Atlanta. 

I was back in the hotel I’d visited several times over the last two years only because I couldn’t find an Airbnb that I liked.  The two apartments I’d visited before and liked were both booked while the others were too far away or too remote for me to even try to locate in the dark when I was tired.  The hotel was in a brightly lit area and easy to get to.  The free breakfast was still tasty despite the exorbitant price of the hotel room.

Once I’d gotten settled in the hotel, it was onto handling business.  The main reason for my trip had been resolved before I’d even arrived.  One of the first things I pulled out of my mailbox was the receipt for the check.  My P.O. Box was secure for another year.  Whew.

H&R block confirmed that I wouldn’t have to file a tax return this year since I STILL have no money coming in.  That was some good news, but the joy only lasted for a minute.  Turns out, my card was charged for the Uber ride to Istanbul Airport.  What the hell?  That means the guy just mugged me. 

I put in a complaint with Uber and they asked for a screenshot to prove I’d taken cash out at the airport.  Tried to do that and my phone wouldn’t allow it.  Seriously!?  Normally, I would just log in on my laptop, but the bank’s website had been blocked on my machine for over a year.  I had tried to get the issue resolved on one of my previous trips to the states to no avail.

The little annoyances.  Remember? 

The issue is still unresolved because I just ran out of steam to try to get it fixed.  With a writing career going nowhere, an online business that is just bleeding money with no returns yet, and a steadily dwindling bank account, I just don’t have the bandwidth for any more challenges.

I am so tired of being frustrated.