HUNGOVER

STORY AND PHOTOGR APHS BY GREGG BLEAKNEY

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ALBANIA

Good company, good times, and good luck in a Mediterranean Eden

IT WAS A TERRIBLE HANGOVER

— one that required a pit stop at a roadside food truck to wash down three Advils with a generic orange drink after 10 kilometers of pedaling. I pushed through my pulsating nausea to focus on following instructions from the truck’s hand-waving proprietor. “Please come inside — out of the sun and dust,” she insisted. “American, yes? Then you pay nothing.” It was a theme that would repeat itself daily during my spin along Albania’s southern coastline: curious locals going out of their way to show their best face to an American bicycle tourist. I wiped my brow with a paper napkin, stared through the food truck’s window into the horizon, and contemplated how painful it was going to be to conquer the climb ahead — a ribbon of tarmac spiraling 2,000 feet over Albania’s Coastal Range. Despite the annoyance of traversing one of Europe’s most spectacular roads under the midday sun in the haze of recent intoxication, I had zero regrets

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All smiles along Albania’s spectacular southern coast.

about the prior evening. The night was a wandering cyclist’s dream — the result of a healthy dose of randomness sprinkled with being in the right place at the right time. Seven days before, I had been sitting in a hotel bar taking brandy shots with a handful of locals in Gjirokastër,

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a village in southern Albania. One of them spoke perfect English, and we began trading stories. I told him that I was traveling with a delegation of journalists on a press trip through the Balkans and was keen to swap my spot in the group’s cooped-up van for a touring bicycle. He spoke about his

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stage in Gjirokastër’s courtyard, pedaling over Albania’s Coastal Range was the farthest thing from my mind. I usually carry a nervous uncertainty before cycling through a new country. Are the roads clean? Do drivers treat cyclists respectfully? Are the locals friendly to foreigners? In Albania those questions had answered themselves within a few hours of spinning away from my recovery stop at the rolling food truck. The gorgeously maintained

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The following night, I arrived at the wedding venue in a chauffeured vehicle dressed in a $40 Chinese outfit I had bought on the street 20 minutes earlier. The paparazzi stormed Julinda with questions about her designer couture. As she exited the car, I sidestepped the frenzy and quietly entered Gjirokastër Castle, a UNESCO heritage site that was already full of dignitaries, diplomats, aristocrats, private security detail teams — a who’s who of the Balkans. They were clad in the finest Italian garments, whereas I was dressed in knockoff Chinese dress pants. The media broadcast the event live on national TV. I drank neverending brandy shots with new friends and danced until near sunrise while trying to keep my camera from losing focus. My cycling tour was slated to kick off from the castle gate the following morning, but at 4:00 am on the dance

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approaching wedding, his perfect brideto-be, and their fairy-tale love story. I went to sleep that night a lonesome traveler, but with dreams of romance, serendipity, and all that is good and pure and electric about stumbling into my own soul mate someday. Five days later, in Macedonia, my press tour was coming to a close. In another hotel bar, an invitation arrived. It turns out the man I had swilled brandy with in Albania was its minister of social welfare. His wedding was in two days and I was invited. My date was to be a friend of his, Julinda Dhame, a publicist and auto rally organizer-turned Albania’s national director of tourism. Julinda had come to Macedonia to personally deliver the message and to let me know that she had arranged a self-guided cycling tour along the Ionian Sea after the ceremony.

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The blue waters of the Ionian Sea are a cyclist’s constant companion in southern Albania.

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road gently cut back and forth over the hills dividing the landlocked Administrative Division of Gjirokastër and the coastal Division of Vlorë. The occasional bus or family car gave me a wide berth while I was pedaling. Several cars offered me water during my frequent stops to take in the views of the extraordinarily blue Ionian Sea surrounding the Island of Corfu, which bobs just off Albania’s southern boarder. That afternoon, I checked into a pastelcolored hotel room just off the beach boardwalk in Sarandë, a fishing village that’s transitioned into a weekend refuge for tourists since the fall of Communism. I grabbed an ice cream cone and strolled the boardwalk. The summer was coming to a close, and a handful of couples waddled hand in hand, their unhurried steps syncing perfectly with the waves lapping over Sarandë’s gravel beachfront. Over the next several days, I pedaled at a leisurely rate as my route bucked and rolled between the sharp mountainous terrain and the Ionian Sea. The views were on par with California’s Big Sur, but with less traffic. It was perhaps the most laid-back cycling I’ve ever experienced. I ditched my bicycle to walk through the hilltop villages of Qeparo and Berat, “the city of a thousand windows.” With the exception of the occasional stray farm animal, I had cobbled back alleys and fortress walls all to myself. From these villages nestled high over the sea, I descended to a string of empty beaches and spent my afternoons lazing in beach chairs sipping Tirana Pilsners with Albanian See Bleakney’s portraits vacationers. of Albanian locals at These locals adventurecycling.org/ soon became my muses. They albaniaportraits. generously allowed me to enter their personal space to make portraits. There was no rub, no attitude, just friendly families and roadside entrepreneurs who were content to share their stories with a random stranger. I felt as if I was truly discovering something — like I’d stumbled into one of bicycle touring’s last secret Edens — and I can’t imagine a better cure for a hangover than that. Gregg Bleakney is a visual storyteller specializing in adventure travel, cycling, and conservation. For more about Bleakney, see gbleakney.blogspot.com.

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Nuts & Bolts Albania GETTING THERE Tirana International Airport is Albania’s principle air hub. Turkish Airways and Lufthansa have regular connections from continental Europe. An alternative entry point can by made by sea via a 30-minute ferry ride from Corfu to Sarandë in southern Albania. BEST SEASON TO RIDE? Mid-summer (July and August) is simply too scorchingly hot to pleasurably cycle Albania’s coastline. Take advantage of more bearable temperatures and off-season accommodation prices during Spring (April, May) and early fall (September, October). FOODIES Beautiful vegetable salads and soups are regularly served throughout Albania. For a light lunch, ask for a village salad (Greek salad-esque) with white cheese (similar to feta), and fresh yogurt with locally sourced honey. For heavier traditional fare try a lamb roast or a spinach-and-cheese Burek pie. Closer to the sea the author enjoyed enormous bowls or Butrint mussels and barbecue fish of all varieties. MISCELLANEOUS For more information on cycling tours in Albania, contact Gent Mati at outdooralbania.com, info@ outdooralbania.com; the Albanian Ministry of Tourism maintains a comprehensive website at albaniantourism.com. READING MATERIAL The works of Albanian novelist Ismail Kadare have now all been translated into English.

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