Our tiny twin room is like a sardine can when compared to some of the pads we've bivouacked in so far this trip. It's one way traffic when moving around, however it is on the corner and thus has two windows with amazing views, one is the aforementioned balcony which is a delight to experience as well as having good spots to dry clothes which have been handwashed in the (pokey yet functional) bathroom sink.
Back to the here and now though..
Things to to do in Gjirokaster...
Visit the castle (tick)
Go to the museum (no tick)
Visit the castle (tick)
Go to the museum (no tick)
(They are focused on showing war relics...they're even selling helmets with bullet holes in them on the street..yeech).
Watch the soccer in Germany. (Can't avoid)
Watch the soccer in Germany. (Can't avoid)
Take photos of everyone else taking photos.(tick)
Eat (tick)
Drink (tick)
Buy fridge magnets.(tick)
As we have 2 nights here we had always planned to visit the thermal baths somewhere over there (picture a pointing figure loosely aimed at the mountains across the valley) and so we did.
The drive there seemed to take hours, the drive back in no time at all. This is a wierd phenomenon, happens all the time. Suspect its to do with way memories are consumed by the brain. Time slows when absorbing new experiences. Time speeds up when reliving them. Thus returning over the same path always appears to be quicker. To those watching externally (e.g. the mountains) it makes no difference at all. They couldn't care less. They're more concerned about the next ice age reshaping their bones. Or the constant scraping of their skins by the insistent weather forces, leaving the resulting flakes lying in flat plains between them, creating a bed for those pesky plants to creep back up their sides and start gnawing away at the next layer of them, then again sometimes that green stuff does provide a nice shirt to protect them from the elements. Then there's those hot lava beds they sit heavily on, and the cracks in their bones that let that annoying etching water trickle down there, get really hot and push its way back up (etching all the time) and then finally expunging itself into more of those pesky rivers.
At least someone has dammed the outflow to stop the erosion somewhat. And built a cool bridge to get to them.
We people call these the Benje' thermal pools.
We drove around one signifant mountain to get there, a few misconceptions on the way because we are relying on modern day tech instead of the old method of printed paper and human intelligence. No stress though, we got there. So had a reasonable amount of other people. Enough to stop us partaking in all the pools of slightly sulfur smelling warm water flowing over the walls with abandon. It was great. The healing powers of the rich mineral springs quickly repaired the torn tendon in Non-Blogger's shoulder and sore legs that this blogger has been surruptiously referring to over the last two weeks have all but disappeared. Not bad for a 20 minute dip. We figured that the new building's scattering the area will soon be commissioned. Hopefully one or two will be toilets. Being outoftowners and not knowing the protocols, we left stressed due to full bladders and no obvious civilized remediation methodolgy. No-one else seemed stressed at all, and they were spending hours there...how did they do that?
Eat (tick)
Drink (tick)
Buy fridge magnets.(tick)
As we have 2 nights here we had always planned to visit the thermal baths somewhere over there (picture a pointing figure loosely aimed at the mountains across the valley) and so we did.
The drive there seemed to take hours, the drive back in no time at all. This is a wierd phenomenon, happens all the time. Suspect its to do with way memories are consumed by the brain. Time slows when absorbing new experiences. Time speeds up when reliving them. Thus returning over the same path always appears to be quicker. To those watching externally (e.g. the mountains) it makes no difference at all. They couldn't care less. They're more concerned about the next ice age reshaping their bones. Or the constant scraping of their skins by the insistent weather forces, leaving the resulting flakes lying in flat plains between them, creating a bed for those pesky plants to creep back up their sides and start gnawing away at the next layer of them, then again sometimes that green stuff does provide a nice shirt to protect them from the elements. Then there's those hot lava beds they sit heavily on, and the cracks in their bones that let that annoying etching water trickle down there, get really hot and push its way back up (etching all the time) and then finally expunging itself into more of those pesky rivers.
At least someone has dammed the outflow to stop the erosion somewhat. And built a cool bridge to get to them.
We people call these the Benje' thermal pools.
We drove around one signifant mountain to get there, a few misconceptions on the way because we are relying on modern day tech instead of the old method of printed paper and human intelligence. No stress though, we got there. So had a reasonable amount of other people. Enough to stop us partaking in all the pools of slightly sulfur smelling warm water flowing over the walls with abandon. It was great. The healing powers of the rich mineral springs quickly repaired the torn tendon in Non-Blogger's shoulder and sore legs that this blogger has been surruptiously referring to over the last two weeks have all but disappeared. Not bad for a 20 minute dip. We figured that the new building's scattering the area will soon be commissioned. Hopefully one or two will be toilets. Being outoftowners and not knowing the protocols, we left stressed due to full bladders and no obvious civilized remediation methodolgy. No-one else seemed stressed at all, and they were spending hours there...how did they do that?
In order to resolve our specific circumstance we headed off home and found a big petrol station that also had a Cafe and thus facilities. Figuring it the right thing to do, purchased a can of coke, a bottle of water, two bottles of wine, and a packet of chips (oregano flavour) just so we could justify using their loos. Would have been cheaper to pee in the woods (or the pools themselves) but overall, a win-win for everyone. The drive back though the strange geographical cleft in the mountain range from one big valley to the next was thoroughly enjoyable. The mountains themselves were too busy otherwise to even notice our passing.
After a timed kip we hit the olde town to soak up some more ambiance, liquids, views, cheap souvenirs (finally succumbing) and just a general hang until dinner. We have learnt two significant tips for future travelers to the locale.
1. Do not do a bus tour. They look painful as you traipse through the heat - up steep inclines that everyone else drives up.
2. Avoid coming here when there is a major soccer event on. This degrades the local ambiance due to the locals desire to broadcast it all on every available screen.
Don't get this blogger wrong here..we know football (e.g. beginning of this post).. however....well ok then.. maybe you should come here when the locals are in something big. It's not historical, but it is current local culture. So no.2 lesson is retracted.
3. Avoid the peak tourist season. Given climate change it`s incomprehensible how anyone could survive here in 40+ degrees surrounded by the milling hordes.
We've hit it perfectly though. The only regret for this blogger is sitting up the top of the hill (yep... did the hard yards up the steep road to get there) in the most recommended traditional restaurant in town still wearing a sleeveless tank top.
Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi Oi,.....yobbo, yobbo, yobbo comes to mind. Must admit though - it was comfortable as the warm evening breeze passes through. We were the first customers for the evening, and so were shunted under the verander. As the rest drifted up - always out of breath - the tables outside and over the road filled up and we hope eventually overflowed to the other establishments next door that did not have the TripAdvisor ranking (they all looked as good as each other).
Wandering back down the steep cobblestone streets soaking up the warm breezes and the extremely picturesque views of the town in the foreground and the mountains in the distance beyond its hard to ignore what a fabulous orb we have the privilege to reside on.
Here but for a fleeting moment in time, yet not letting that fact diminish the poignancy of it.
The kids in the streets, run around, screaming and yelling as kids do wherever they grow up, paying games in whatever space is available to them. Their parents and grandparents are around them, all negotiating this new dynamic of all these wierd people coming through, device's going snap, snap, throwing money around and believing every embroidery story,
Old uncle Yurst(?) still leads his horse down the cobblestone streets in the morning and comes back up late in the evening - sidesaddle. While elder cousins look so cool driving around (very slowly of course because the physical nature of the roads dictates that) in cars thumping out beats which everyone knows is not what should be done.
It will be interesting to see how it all transpires in the years to come.
The mountains on otherhand have no interest whatsoever.
P.S.
22:17 ..Monday night. On the Balcony. 24 degrees. Slight breeze. Nice local wine. Aforementioned Oregano Chips. Whilst Blogging... Local tower starts warbling. Is this a call to prayer this late at night? Should I wake the family, get them up in order for them to pay homage?
Thinking allegiance to the AFL religion is more rewarding on a number of levels.
After a timed kip we hit the olde town to soak up some more ambiance, liquids, views, cheap souvenirs (finally succumbing) and just a general hang until dinner. We have learnt two significant tips for future travelers to the locale.
1. Do not do a bus tour. They look painful as you traipse through the heat - up steep inclines that everyone else drives up.
2. Avoid coming here when there is a major soccer event on. This degrades the local ambiance due to the locals desire to broadcast it all on every available screen.
Don't get this blogger wrong here..we know football (e.g. beginning of this post).. however....well ok then.. maybe you should come here when the locals are in something big. It's not historical, but it is current local culture. So no.2 lesson is retracted.
3. Avoid the peak tourist season. Given climate change it`s incomprehensible how anyone could survive here in 40+ degrees surrounded by the milling hordes.
We've hit it perfectly though. The only regret for this blogger is sitting up the top of the hill (yep... did the hard yards up the steep road to get there) in the most recommended traditional restaurant in town still wearing a sleeveless tank top.
Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi Oi,.....yobbo, yobbo, yobbo comes to mind. Must admit though - it was comfortable as the warm evening breeze passes through. We were the first customers for the evening, and so were shunted under the verander. As the rest drifted up - always out of breath - the tables outside and over the road filled up and we hope eventually overflowed to the other establishments next door that did not have the TripAdvisor ranking (they all looked as good as each other).
Wandering back down the steep cobblestone streets soaking up the warm breezes and the extremely picturesque views of the town in the foreground and the mountains in the distance beyond its hard to ignore what a fabulous orb we have the privilege to reside on.
Here but for a fleeting moment in time, yet not letting that fact diminish the poignancy of it.
The kids in the streets, run around, screaming and yelling as kids do wherever they grow up, paying games in whatever space is available to them. Their parents and grandparents are around them, all negotiating this new dynamic of all these wierd people coming through, device's going snap, snap, throwing money around and believing every embroidery story,
Old uncle Yurst(?) still leads his horse down the cobblestone streets in the morning and comes back up late in the evening - sidesaddle. While elder cousins look so cool driving around (very slowly of course because the physical nature of the roads dictates that) in cars thumping out beats which everyone knows is not what should be done.
It will be interesting to see how it all transpires in the years to come.
The mountains on otherhand have no interest whatsoever.
P.S.
22:17 ..Monday night. On the Balcony. 24 degrees. Slight breeze. Nice local wine. Aforementioned Oregano Chips. Whilst Blogging... Local tower starts warbling. Is this a call to prayer this late at night? Should I wake the family, get them up in order for them to pay homage?
Thinking allegiance to the AFL religion is more rewarding on a number of levels.
1 comment:
Finding the loos in foreign places can be a pain. Literally!
I bet everyone else "went" in the pool. (Yuk).
Anyway, glad that it relieved all those aching bits!
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