Fast as lightning, another three months have passed. I swear, time is going by so fast it’s leaving
skid marks in the air.
I didn’t want to leave that comfy apartment. Didn’t want to leave Tirana. I still love whenever I spot a new mural on a building like the one above. But since I still haven’t gotten my visa
situation figured out, I needed to leave.
But where to go?
Instinct, of course, said to head back home to
Portugal. Except there’s a problem. A problem I’ve been tracking for months now. My beloved Portugal is becoming way too
expensive.
I realize that we’re heading into the high season for visiting
the country, but there’s been a serious boost in price even from last year. It’s bad enough I can’t get anywhere near
Madeira because they want $1,000 or more for a single week’s stay, but even
returning to Portimão is out of the question.
They wanted $2,500 for a month’s stay in any of my favorite haunts. As much as I want to walk on a beach again
(one of Tirana’s only faults is that it’s not close enough to the ocean) I am
not paying Portimão prices for the privilege.
I looked around briefly at prices in various locations and
all the data told me to either return to Cyprus (holding onto that location in
case I spend yet another winter on the road) or return to a nice apartment I
remember from 2 years(!) ago. Being both
available and still affordable, I guess it’s back to Tivat, Montenegro I go.
But first, a last gift from Tirana. I mercifully managed to avoid the bees this time
(thank goodness) and instead had some good news at the airport. There was a new addition to the airport’s passport
control. Now for certain passports,
including the U.S., they now have automated gateways. I got to skip the sizable line for an agent
and zip through customs in about two minutes.
Tirana continues to be INSANELY convenient. I kinda love it.
My first time using Air Serbia and I was less than impressed. Ticketing took forever for some reason that had nothing to do with me having to transfer some weight from my big bag before it could be checked. Getting on the plane also took a while, not counting the bus ride to the plane. The airline made everyone check their carry-ons and leave them on the tarmac before climbing the narrow stairs into the small plane.
An hour and 45 minutes later and we landed in Belgrade about
20 minutes late. But I still had to go through security … and
got pinched. My bags and me. It took a few minutes to get the all clear
only for me to realize that my next flight was already boarding. On the other side of the freaking airport.
I’m too old for this.
Even without my large bag, I struggled to run through this
unfamiliar airport on the way to Gate C11.
Gate 8, Gate 9, almost there.
Gate 10 … Gate 10A, Gate 10B, Gate 10C -- are you kidding me?!
Serbians are sadists!
And that opinion was confirmed when I finally reached Gate
C11 only to find the gate agent leaving.
“Boarding is done. Go to the transfer desk.” Where the hell is that? You’re not even going to tell me, are you? You're just going to walk away. Great.
Shoulders slumped, I headed back down the same hall looking
for the desk. Right around Gate C1, I
found the mercifully empty desk and told the woman my plight. She got me booked for a new flight at the
lovely hour of 6:40 am the next morning.
Then she told me to wait until they got more customers so they could get
us to a nearby hotel.
Joy.
After an hour wait, a German couple joined me and the guy
who had arrived at the desk before me to follow a desk agent to the transport
desk. She raced us through the airport
to baggage claim where I could at least pick up my bag. Then she led us to the transport desk.
As I was lugging all my crap after the ticket agent and the
three younger travelers, I was feeling every one of my 55 years. I was slow and tired, my joints were aching
and I just wanted the day to be over. But
no. There was still more waiting at the
transport counter. The only update we
got was when the original desk agent left and we were told to wait for a new
chick to arrive.
When she did, she led us through even more of the airport to
wait for the shuttle. The first thing you
spot upon getting outside is this … thing.
I initially thought it was made of metal but that is actual
crochet over a metal skeleton. In bright
pink. Interesting.
We got onto the shuttle and headed to the hotel. After all the waiting and the ‘spectacular’
service at the airport, I didn’t have high hopes for this last-minute accommodation. All during the ride, I kept thinking, “Please
don’t be a dive. Please don’t be a
dive. Please don’t – why are we passing
through a security gate? What is this
building? What is --
What the …
What?
Hold up. This isn’t a
dive.
The Crown Plaza is a seriously nice hotel. The desk agent explained how to use my dinner
voucher, told me that a box lunch would be waiting in the morning, and that the
transport would be ready for us at the ripe hour of 4:00 a.m. Oy.
But I’d have access to the spa and the heated indoor pool during my 12-hour
stay.
Does this make up for the mad dash to my gate or having to
wait for two hours before getting here?
No. But this is still a nice
hotel.
Over engineered in that it took me several minutes to realize
that the light switches were part of this panel. Dude, I just wanted to go to the bathroom
without needing an engineering degree. And
whoever designed the place with a slight step up into a bathroom that’s directly
across from a mirror so you can watch yourself on the toilet needs to rot in
hell.
Still, I had a meal (mediocre and cold) and a decent few
hours of sleep before waking at the butt crack of dawn. The box lunch was delivered as promised and
was more than I expected. If you ever
happen to find yourself in Belgrade,
check this place out. Be sure to hit the
pool area since I didn’t have time to take a dip.
