Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Travel

During every trip I have an "Addy, are you really here?" moment. This moment was even more pronounced in Albania. Here I was sitting on a park bench, eating byrek- exhibit Z that fried dough stuffed with meat and/or vegetables is an international phenomenon- and I couldn't help but be amazed that this was all real. Am I actually in Albania right now? I wondered if I could get a day in Black History Month for this. I'd take the 29th. I'm not greedy. Okay so maybe I wasn't first solo black female traveler in Albania but I was surely the first female child of Ethiopian immigrants to the U.S. to make my way there. Perhaps this was a reach (okay it was) but the way folks were staring at me I might have been on to something.

I didn't know much about modern Albania before making my way here. I was inspired to visit by a series in Slate and an interview with former leader Hoxha's wife in Riccardo Orizio's "Talk of the Devil: Encounters with Seven Dictators." Hoxha had done a number on the nation and Albania was slowly joining the global economy. Tirana was a microcosm of this shift. The capital eased from modern cafes where the upwardly mobile set mingled to alleyways filled with rubble and patchy unpaved parks. The apartment buildings in the suburbs, probably built in the 1950’s, looked like boxes set atop of one another. Some were recently painted yellow, blue, pink, and purple. Most buildings were concrete gray under Hoxha's rule. The paint job was a concerted revitalization effort, and perhaps an artistic rebuke of the former leadership.

There wasn't much in the away of "tourist sites" but I was more than content to walk around and explore. I saw signs of home as I made my way through the city. A butcher shop named after Kennedy, a street named after George W. Bush, and a fast food spot that was clearly inspired by McDonald's, golden arches and all.

I finally made my way to the center square. It was named after Skanderbeg, the national hero who held off the Ottomans. Unfortunately I couldn't enjoy it- the square was fenced off and dug up, a renovation effort paid for by the Amir of Kuwait. The Opera House was similarly inaccessible but a huge banner announced that 2010 was the year of Mother Teresa, the nation's most famous citizen.

There was so much more to discover in Albania. Other pockets of Tirana and the Adriatic Coast awaited. In the meantime, I was going to sit and enjoy my byrek, and marvel at how circumstance and a reading list brought me here.