One of the bad habits of travel is placing our own expectations on a place. We bring preconceived notions and comparisons, instead of just experiencing it for what it is. I heard Eckhart Tolle explain this recently. It's a type of presence (classic Eckhart) and to do the opposite is to choose aliveness. Openness. Fully experiencing and saying an open-hearted yes to what is in front of you.
Tirana, the capital of Albania, required the fullest and most open of hearts. As my wife and I ate salads in a cafe on our first day, having moved here for 9 weeks, cigarette smoke slowly filled the room. My mouth tried in vain to relay to my brain the flavours I was experiencing, but my nose sent conflicting messages. It seemed that most of the people seated indoors in the cafe were smokers, pausing briefly between cigarettes to enjoy their salads. They didn't seem to be having any mouth and nose malfunctions and I wondered whether they'd considered just ashing directly into their meals, such was the pointlessness of it.
'Say yes to this', said Tirana.
This was my struggle early on, saying yes. On top of their lax views on smoking, Tirana is slightly jarring on first impressions, especially if held against the high standards of other European cities. Communist era buildings fill large parts of the city. At street level, it has that particular kind of grit, chaos, and energy of Southeast Asia. The heavy heat and humidity of summer only adds to that. New developments are everywhere, a sign of the booming growth that Albania and the capital are going through. This adds to the contrasting nature of the style of the city. On the outer edges of Tirana in particular, it looks like everyone has had a go at designing their own building and didn't bother to compare notes.
The most exclusive area of the city is Blloku, an area of the city out of bounds during the communist era unless you were an elite party member. Its popularity these days is representative of what happens when you tell people they can’t go somewhere or have nice things, and so end up wanting them even more. In this way and many others, Albania seems to have swung in the opposite direction. If you walk around Blloku what stands out immediately are the brand names, which are everywhere. People wear their designer labels proudly and across every inch of fabric real estate on their bodies. Givenchy t-shirts. Adidas tracksuits. Boss waist bags. Often all on the one person. Any spare space of skin an opportunity to showcase a high-end brand. If Tommy Hilfiger or Guess ever decided to release a line of branded ear lobe covers, Blloku would be where you'd likely see them.
Driving around the streets there are only slightly less Mercedes per square metre than a Mercedes show-room. Even out of the city, all around the country you see Mercedes in all manner of states. Driving up north we came across a Mercedes sedan carrying a huge roll of barbed wire fencing on its roof. The lack of roof rack made me wonder briefly whether it had simply driven through a barbed wire fence and this was the result. In this way, it is also the family car and used for every occasion. The top-end, luxury models feature prominently all around the city though, along with Range Rovers, BMWs, Bentleys and many more. It's hard to imagine more luxury cars per square kilometre existing anywhere else.
As far as first impressions go, it was a lot to take in.
Part of the problem in settling in early on, with my preconceived notions and comparisons lingering around, was the realisation that we were, in some ways, still grieving our old home. The house we'd lived in and the life we'd built back home, and one that we'd loved and couldn't return to in the same way we left it. It was exciting to be on this adventure, but also unsettling to have an open and unknown expanse ahead of us. This was all mixed in during those early moments as we tried to enjoy our smokey salads and wondered what on earth we'd signed up for.
One of the big turning points in adjusting early on was discovering the Grand Park of Tirana. It's a name befitting. The park is both grand in size and in beauty. A lush masterpiece of sprawling greenery in the middle of the city. It welcomed us in, providing a leafy embrace when we felt lost. And when we were wavering, it placed a comforting vine-wrapped branch around our shoulders and convinced us to stay.
It became an important presence to us during our time in Tirana. Just as it is to the people who call Tirana home. The park is 289 hectares including a huge artificial lake and is affectionately nicknamed 'the lungs of the city' because of its diversity of plants. It's a focal point and also one of the few central areas of nature to find respite in, offering your own lungs a wee break if required. There are many ways to enjoy it and people of all ages do so. Walking around it you felt part of a community, all joined together by a love of the grand park.
On our first walk into the park, I was immediately caught off guard by how big and wild it felt. Entering via a snaking dirt path, we were very quickly enclosed by towering trees and dense undergrowth. And with it a sudden drop in temperature, a cooler change that would be gratefully received on every one of our walks through the park.
A perfectly minimal brick path led us in from that point and it wasn't long before we were making decisions at a fast rate on which way to go next. Established brick paths, but also a plentiful array of dirt tracks leading off into the forest. A buffet of walking options for every kind of park-goer. It was a beautiful feeling to have in a park and that feeling of wildness would stay constant, despite it also housing many amenities by way of cafes and bars amongst other things.
We encountered this early on in our first walk through the park. After having navigated a number of different intersections, we'd come across yet another path veering off into the forest, and noticed one of the trees nearby displayed a sign that read 'Caution: Party Zone'. Looking around beyond the sign at a lot more forest, and at the end of the path, a small cafe where a solitary man sat drinking a coffee, there seemed to be strong evidence to the contrary of this indeed being a party zone. A forest zone maybe, or a quiet cafe zone, but not so much a party zone.
Having walked further down the path towards the cafe at this point, I noticed more signs attached to the trees. One of an army tank, another of a german shepherd and another advising us that we had in fact entered a new zone, this one being a Beer Zone. I wondered whether this zone was more of a subzone within the Party Zone. The whole vibe was something similar to that of how a 15 year old boy might decorate his bedroom door.
Another man walked out of the cafe and joined his friend, also quietly sipping his coffee. The party was clearly getting out of control, doubling in size since we'd arrived, and so we decided to hastily make our exit, out of all the zones we'd entered and back into the forest and the greenery.
A lot of parks I've encountered in Europe tend to be set up this way and are very different to Australian parks, in that they're often filled with lots of cafes and bars and many other things that are not park. That is, not nature. Walking through Bologna City Park during our time in Italy we even came across a go-kart track. And along with the wide bitumen road that wound through the park, it felt a lot like nature was a second thought. Tirana's Grand Park had plenty of offerings like this (though not the go-kart track), but still felt like it maintained the charm and wildness of how nature should be. An impressive and tricky thing to pull off.
Another place we visited in Tirana didn't fare so well in this balancing act. Catching the cable car up to Dajti Mountain provided us stunning views as we climbed high up the mountain over dramatic terrain. Below us vegetation waged a slow and impressive battle enveloping the mountain face like moss on a rock. We dined out on this beautiful offering of nature, ready for more once we got to the top. And we did with incredible views over the city, but less so with our surroundings, which featured a hotel that resembled a spaceship, a roller skating rink, a paintball shooting range and an area which offered you the choice of either riding a motorised buggy or a horse (the original motorised buggy). I'm yet to meet anyone who gets to the top of a mountain and thinks 'this is a great mountain and all, but to be honest, I'm feeling annoyed by the lack of roller skating facilities up here'. I'm not against roller skating or paintball obviously, but as a general rule I think nature should be the main attraction. Especially if that attraction is a mountain 1600 metres above sea level.
It was after our trip up the mountain that we visited Bunk'Art 1. A huge underground bunker built under the orders of communist leader Enver Hoxha during the communist period, designed to house himself and his cabinet in the event of a nuclear attack. These days it's a museum displaying the way that many of the living quarters once looked, with the rest of the rooms featuring installations explaining Albania's harrowing history, none more so than the brutal communist period that spanned 48 years. We were warned that many people who visit the bunker describe feeling quite low afterwards, and you can understand why. The Albanian people have suffered a lot, and only really entered the world again in 1992 after being bunkered down and hidden for decades, North Korea style. Our tour guide told us that prior to 92', his parents had never actually seen or eaten a banana before. Forget masks and remote working, try adjusting to a new normal where, amongst having to learn how to open a bank account for the first time, you're also suddenly living in a world where bananas are now a thing.
As we came out of the bunker, the weather had changed dramatically and a storm had rolled in from nowhere, despite being hot and sunny when we first went in. We stood for a long time at the entrance trying to adjust to this new weather situation. Later, after making it onto a bus and soaking wet, we drove along through the streets of Tirana back to the center as rain pelted everything and other people dashed on board in a damp flurry.
I noticed a man seated facing me who looked to be in his seventies. He looked tired and gazed out the window. At one point he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The heaviness still with me from the bunker, I couldn’t help staring at the man and feeling like I'd just read his diary. No wonder he looked tired.
I thought about the city and the country and felt a deep empathy for this man and everyone else who'd been through all this. After everything they'd been through, you could forgive Albanians for wanting to do whatever the hell they want for a while. Including wearing all the brand names, enjoying their smokey salads and putting roller skating rinks on mountains.
Tirana felt like a well-written character in a tv show. The rough-around-the-edges type that puts you offside in the first episode or two, but by the end - after learning their back story and understanding who they are and what they've been through - you find yourself rooting for them.
Later that week we went back to the park. It was early evening and we joined in on the slow moving foot traffic that followed the path around the lake. Everyone was in fine form. The trees and undergrowth were looking extra rainforest-y. The lake was sparkling from the late sun and hefty-looking ducks trundled around the water's edge, so big they could very well have been toddlers in duck costumes. Joggers came past on the gravel track, weaving around older people who looked considerably more dignified than anyone around them. Young people walked with purpose through all this en route to one of the many cafes and bars around the lake, none I'm guessing proclaiming themselves to be operating within party zones. A woman clearly fed up with the subtlety of actual brand names, rounded the corner wearing a t-shirt that just read 'Luxury Sportswear'. We were all here, brought together by the park.
That walk had been a final baptism of sorts and by the time I came out of the park, all my preconceived notions and baggage and expectations had been washed away. I was all in on the city. Committed and ready. Heart fully open.
Wow! I loved reading this. I was transported away, amused, and somewhat glad I did not experience all of this firsthand. If it were me, I don’t think I could have seen the wonder of it all and appreciated it the same way you did. Luxury Sportswear was the cherry on top.