The Sound of Music:

I remember watching an episode of a popular British Sitcom some years ago when a boisterous party was ended by a furious neighbour cutting an electricity cable and so pulling the plug on the festivities. Come to think of it, this may have concluded with Richard Wilson aka Richard Meldrew blurting out, “I don’t belieeeeeeve it!” before the credits rolled. Now, twenty years on, a similar event could possibly be re-enacted in my neighbourhood any minute now.

The party music hinted at in my last posting has now reached epic proportions. It started Tuesday night and involved my nearest acquaintances in Schoze entertaining the entire street with ear-bursting decibels of Turkish songs until the early hours. That was two days ago and was repeated on Wednesday and has again been rekindled tonight. This evening it is extra loud. What’s more. I’ve since found out that it’s not next door who are sending the bricks of the houses moving with the volume. No, the culprits are two doors away!  And the reason, a wedding in three days time!

Should you ever find yourself getting married in Albania, or to any Albanian, then you will go through a similar initiation process. The most ear-splitting music will serenade your local street for at least five nights before the big day, The message to everyone is, “we’re having a wedding next weekend and we’re so happy.” In reply, the rest of the locality hide their heads under pillows or put on industrial sized ear defenders. I feel sorry for the children who’ve got to go to school early the next day. I sympathise with the people from two kilometres away who are trying to watch the nightly Brazilian soap operas. But especially I shed a tear for anyone who has to get up the next morning.

My friends, Endri and Dyshi from a street away have offered me refuge in their home. Frankly, this will make little difference as they have two very young children who can compete most generously with any loud noises. The option of driving five hours to North Albania, where the din may be a faint whisper, is tempting. However I feel I may have to sit this one out. The slow torture of death by Turkish music isn’t the worst prospect in the world. On Sunday, the bride will be taken from her home in traditional fashion, looking glum until she says her vows. I will be out to witness the scene, take pictures, wish her every happiness and hope fervently that no one else in Schoze will be so unkind as to get married in the foreseeable future. Alternatively, a timely power-cut right now would be just beautiful.

Neighbours

I have excellent neighbours in Schoze, living as I do a mere fifteen minutes bus ride from the centre of Tirana. There are a whole host of excellent teenagers who want to practise their English, and younger children who tend to play outside with various games they make up themselves. This usually involves finding a rock with a chalky substance inside and scrawling patterns on the tarmac. These can often end up as makeshift goals or hopscotch grids.

One set of families which I hadn’t met so far were some of the nearest ones to my house. They arrived back home yesterday in party mood. This was a Tuesday night, so not the usual evening for a big celebration. Football was taking place in Spain with Barcelona winning again, but surely not enough to spark any party. Another well-supported team, AC Milan, weren’t in action until 24 hours later and their early season form has been pretty appalling. Mario Barlotelli could be the reason??

So what was it that caused (beautiful) Turkish music to be blasted to the neighbourhood from 8 until after midnight? To be honest, I have absolutely no idea. The interesting thing was that no one else seemed to mind. There appeared to be no attempts to inquire whether they could lower the volume or quieten down a few decibels. This morning as I left my home at 6.20 all was quiet. Birds, starved of sleep were having a lie in, roosters were bleary eyed and cats were doing what they always do..napping (average sleep needed per cat is 17 hours a day). I conjured with the thought of blasting my neighbours with a World Service programme on the Iraq War (part three of four this week...it is very good).  But, I reckoned that if your neighbours  are having a celebration they must be happy. So I left for school content in the knowledge that my nearest neighbours were cheerful, if not a little deaf.

Sounding off

This week you find me not in the local restaurant enjoying the highlights of the traditional Albanian cuisine, but  at home in my front room (I only have three of them) listening to the barking of neighbours' dogs. I'm unaware if the language of dogs is the same here as elsewhere in the world, but it is pretty incessant. The sounds of Tirana may be the same where you live. Competing with the canine music are crowing roosters, melodic car horns and  whirring coffee machines.

The journey to school has all of these in abundance, and more besides. As I travel on the 6.30 bus to the centre, I also get serenaded by advertisements on the bus's one television screen. yes modern technology exists in Tirana!. The bus is French with signs like 'mefiez-vous des portes' and 'le conducteur est sur son telephone' displayed. In between improving my French, I can listen to the six commercials which are on a continuous and tedious loop. I know them all and their theme music. Do I want to buy Cheeries Chocolate cereal? No. Do I need a new washing powder? Don't think so. A holiday in Turkey perhaps? Tempting. Change your deodorant? A little too personal.   Off I get at my stop and face three lanes of traffic to navigate. Remember that for most drivers here, a red light is merely a suggestion rather than a law. I head unscathed to Skanderbeg Square in the centre of the city and can here a cockerel right next to the police station. Thirty minutes later I am in Rruga Don Bosco and my school. Thirty seconds from the school is the cafe I use owned by Arban. We get on really well. He brings me a coffee each morning and I don't even have to order it. "Don't forget just leave the money on the table when you leave, " he reminds me. I stroll off to school and chat to the 24 hour security guys who are simply outstanding.

One noise you won't be hearing in Tirana for a few months is the romantic sound of trains. Albania's transport system is archaic. Cars, mini-buses and normal buses vie for a place on the road. The country's few rail lines are crumbling. Rolling stock is ancient and slow, tracks are being vandalised and carriages are falling apart. I have been lucky in the past to take most of the routes that exist. It is quaint. You can run quicker than they travel. In fact, a two hour road journey takes up to seven hours by train. But, in Tirana, the government has called it a day on their one route to the second largest city of Durres. The danger to passengers from children throwing rocks at carriages has become too much. Exhausted coaches will travel no more. A sad day. There is a possibility that the two routes outside of the city are still functioning in Skodra and Vlora. I will investigate.

Albanians just love their cars too much. There is even a local version of Top Gear. For me, the chance to catch the 6.30 train service from my home in Schoze to school is one thing which I fear will never happen. The problems of over-crowding, leaves on the line, the wrong kind of snow and strikes by train drivers have all passed this country by. The Tirana train is now destined to become a museum piece.

The end of a working week:

Many Albanians are creatures of habit. They tend to live in the same town or village for most of their lives, especially if they are men. Their families stick close by, and they are extremely generous to visitors. "You can't out give an Albanian," is a well worn phrase, but one which best sums up this race.
Two events of note in recent days. I had a visit to a solicitors. It's not that I had done anything illegal, or that someone was threatening to take me to court, possibly for driving too cautiously. Quite simply, to get a twelve month visa, I needed to have a housing contract. I do want to stay the full year, and at the moment the stamp in my passport allows me to reside just three months. Come to think of it, having travelled to Kosovo last weekend, I was stamped out of Albania, but didn't receive a stamp back in when I returned the next day. Perhaps the Albanian police think I'm in Kosovo and the Kosovan police think I've absconded. Perhaps I do need a solicitor after all.
My first brush with the lawyer was on Wednesday when I met my landlord, Bedri, in the centre of Tirana. He speaks no English. We went together to the solicitor's office, I with my passport and he with his identification card and house deeds. We got the housing contract drawn up in twenty minutes for the price of 4400 Lek. I fully expected to pay it all, after all I was the one who needed this document. Bedri insisted on paying half, while the solicitor offered a compromise. She suggested I paid 2000 Lek, Bedri 2000 and that we used the remaining 400 lek to have a drink. We walked back into town and enjoyed a coffee as I tried in my best Albanian to express my gratitude to him.
Second act of kindness was at the Art Grill restaurant where I am right now. A beautiful place that makes excellent risotto and traditional dishes. Last Friday, one friend, Gary,  left his camera here by mistake. The meal was good, but the giving of a digital Nikon would have been an excessive tip. We left about 10pm. On Monday, Gary mentioned he'd misplaced his camera and thought he may have left it in the Art Grill. Sadly, I didn't get back to the place until Thursday. I went in just before it was about to pour with rain. I was met at the entrance by Artan, the owner who greeted me with the word, "Camera!" Someone had handed it in and he'd held it for six days not knowing where I lived.
So now the weekend lies ahead during which I hope to visit local mountains for a much-needed run. The Tirana Marathon is looming up fast and my training schedule needs to get back on track.

Kjo rruge eshte e keqe

Simply translated the title says, 'this road is bad'. It's been more than a week since I last posted and now it's Sunday evening at 9.15pm and I have just arrived home from 'the north.' 

Tirana is based in the middle of the country, so unlike London it really is central to most Albanians. All points north, south, east and west are reached easily by car. An Albanian would laugh at travelling any other way than by road. The trains are virtually non-existant, they don't have trams, and there are no domestic flights for a small, economically-challenged country.

This last week I have finally decided to become more Albanian and climb aboard my Citreon C3. Nervously, I drove the four miles to my school on Tuesday certain in the knowledge that hidden perils lurked in every side street. It's not that the local drivers are poor, they are quite simply unpredictable. Take, for example, joining the normal flow of traffic on a busy road. You, like me, would probably indicate, check your mirrors and gently pull out. Here, most simply just pull out. Red traffic lights are to bring you to a halt, but if the road is clear, then many will just carry on with their journeys. Pedestrians take note. Also,should you show an act of kindness to another driver, you won't be thanked. It's not that anyone's being rude. It;'s more likely that your fellow motorist is on his phone, lighting a cigarette or quite possibly both.

Journey one to school went smoothly so I repeated the venture the next day and returned home with my car unscathed. This weekend it was the big one, a four hour, 190km drive to North Albania, through Kosovo. I had a fellow passenger with me on the outward journey who lived in Bajram Curri, a town of stunning beauty that has rarely changed in the last hundred or so years. I stayed with an amazing family Saturday night who I have known for three to four years. They show generosity and hospitality to incredible levels. This Sunday, at 8am we drive, or that is I drove, to Valbona. This is a beauty spot in the mountains where the sun was shining, the sky was deep blue, the rivers were flowing and the birds and insects were busy. 

Back to the journey. Bajram Curri to Valbona is 25 kilometres, but with 10 kilometres of unmade road. My car didn't enjoy this one bit. But it was well worth every bump and scrape as many four wheel drive cars passed us in a choking cloud of dust. We arrived for breakfast of cornbread, free range eggs, local natural yoghuirt and coffee. The road was at one time strewn with sleeping goats and local children on horseback rounding up sheep. Cows wandered with bells ringing around their necks. It was an amazing Sunday.

I returned safely back to Tirana on the smooth autostrada refreshed and ready for a week at GDQ School. My car will have a few days off as I take the infamous Uzina Autotracktorie bus. Something to really look forward to.

Before I Forget. Thank you to everyone who has posted comments. They mean a great deal, as do emails and Facebook comments. It has been hugely encouraging.

Saturday in Tirana

If your normal weekend starts with a lie in, a visit to the Supermarket, a trip to the gym or a coffee and pastry at your Wi-fi friendly high street, then you should be living in Albania. This Saturday started as a normal day except that I had no hot water and the kettle had also stopped working. The cooker (both gas and electric) were in fine form and I was able to heat up water, wash and eat and plan for the day.  Then my landlord, Bedri, called and he installed two more light bulbs. I had three in the house already, but room for five. In my extra-luminous home I thanked him and he assured me that an 'engineer' would be round to sort out the water boiler. Ten minutes later another neighbour, Ermiliano, popped round and fixed the problem immediately. He then took me into town to purchase a mobile phone and car insurance.

The phone was bought at a store called Neptun (no 'e') where there are about three staff for each customer, and there are many customers. We left, but as we put the SIM inside it asked for a PIN which I had, but then an authorisation code, which I was missing. Helpfully, all the instructions on the phone were given in Hungarian. We went back to the shop and explained the problem. Different staff helped and provided a second phone which accepted the SIM with just a PIN, but still displayed all messages in Hungarian. I changed this to English somehow, but will now be useful if I ever need a NOKIA fixed in Budapest.

The next visit was to the wholesalers. Ermiliano was after cheese, meat, cigarettes and other items for his father's store in Schoze. We bought in bulk and took them back to the car, parked randomly on the side of the road near a police station. Ten minutes later I was buying car insurance for my English-registered Citreon. For this we met up with another family friend and walked to nearby offices. A very helpful staff member wrote and signed an insurance certificate after seeing my documents. She signed it and so did I. I paid 120 euros and am now insured on the streets of Albania for twelve months.  We picked up Ermiliano's wife, had a delicious ice cream, and were soon home in Schoze. My genial host and chauffeur then attempted to mend one of the headlamps on my car, but was beaten by French technology.  I enjoyed lunch, listened to England winning the Twenty20 match with Australia and then went back into the city. This time I took the bus, and with temperatures in the 70s had a brilliant afternoon getting to know what is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful cities in Europe.

Starting School

It's the calm before the storm as far as school in Albania is concerned, although we did have a literal storm today of great intensity. 
This week has marked the start of preparation day for staff at GDQ School with the children returning back next Tuesday into the classrooms. This has meant 7.30 departures from my home in Schoze and then deciding how I will cover the five miles to the school building. Yesterday I took the bus to the centre of Tirana and walked the rest. It took just over an hour. This morning I waited for the same bus, but was given a lift to the city by great neighbours Ermiliano and Alda. This saved time and also the uncomfortable proposition of standing squashed like sardines for twenty minutes.
From the centre, it's a twenty minute walk to GDQ down Don Bosco street and past the huge Catholic Church.
There have been a variety of school meetings with plenty of new information to absorb and names to remember. There have been great lunches put on by kind-hearted staff, with the byrek and fruit much appreciated today. There has also been the joy of getting my Year 6 ( I should say Grade 5 as we use American numbering) classroom organised. 
Back to the storm. Around two o'clock this afternoon the clouds gathered over the mountains and they looked angry. A few rumbles of thunder with lightning and then heavy rain fell on the city. It's a little fresher with temperatures about 21 degrees tonight, but with more rain tomorrow. I reckon it was darker than on the final day of the Ashes Test at The Oval.
This brings me to cricket. Albanians don't get it. Americans sometimes think they understand it, and most other staff members just looked confused. But the Grade 5 class (all girls at the moment) will soon be playing and reliving important matches of the past. They are so lucky.

Love
Steve x