Day 1 Hitchhike in, stay in shithole Day 2 Dentist appt 1, stay in shithole Day 3 Shithole Day 4 Move to Apartment Day 5 Jail cell. Day 6 Monday 18th September. Milingona. Temporary crowns installed. Day 7 Milingona: Permanent crowns installed. Day 8 Milingona: Minor adjustment to bite, and completely happy. Technically now I’m ready to leave Tirana. Finished first draft of Arrested by the Albanian Mafia. Day 9 Milingona: Thursday 21st September, sitting at hostel working. Talked to Joe about working there. Talk verona in morning. Day 10 Milingona: Man in my bed. Hike with Joe. Confusion in evening, solve. Speak with Verona about working there. Day 11 Milingona: Saturday 23rd September: Verona busy in morning. Start working there. Day 12 Milingona:
Part 1: title
Tuesday 19th September
I’ve been in Tirana for six days now. Albania feels a little bit lawless, a mentality of, you do whatever you want. The people are remarkably calm, certainly used to the nature of chaos. People are laid-back; they take life slowly, and value their leisure highly. They seem remarkably humble, often carring big smiles. It is natural to be part of the community.
The city is a reflection. It feels rather mickey-mouse, with the most chaotic of infrastructure - mickey-mouse architecture, spaghetti power lines, a brown river snaking through the city. We joke about construction in New Zealand, but I have almost never seen a construction worker in any of these high-rise buildings under construction in the centre, and the nature of construction has some questionabilities. I believe embezzlement and corruption play some part in the failure.
The bus systems make little sense - inter-city buses are private only, and like the inner-city buses, it is nigh impossible to find good information. Every ten minutes you walk across another set of garbage bins emitting a foul smell, aging trash lining the surrounding street in greater quantity than usual. Policemen stand at intersections, indiscrimiately blowing their whistle while pretending to direct the traffic. Everybody smokes - you’re weird if you don’t. It’s a cash-only society, with minimum 6€ ATM withdrawal feels. But tourism has just begun to explode in this country, and spells good for it’s future.
I’d probably have passed right through the city, had I not a week with the dentists. The first two nights, I stayed in a remarkably shitty hostel. At 6€ a night, it seemed rather attractive at first. The atmosphere felt like that of an asylum. The man in my room would not stop talking to me. The people in the other room, they sat in their beds all day, poking at their phones. The kitchen consisted of a boiler plate, a crusty pot, dirty dishes strewn across the tiny bench. The sink was inside the single bathroom - shower, toilet, laundry, all in one giant room, serving a potential forty guests. It was not an atmosphere for productivity.
The second place was different; an apartment with cheap bunk beds crammed into the two bedrooms. After settling in, the owner warned me about the crazy woman in my room. “Yeah,” I told him, “I know. I already talked to her for fifteen seconds.”
As if I couldn’t fall any lower, the following night was spent in a jail cell… You can read about that absurdity link here. And so, the next morning I resolved to stay somewhere nice. I save money so I can spend it when I need to. But at almost thrice the price, this place better be worth it.
As I stepped into Milingona Hostel…
Photo: A picture is worth a thousand words.
Tucked on a queit dusty side-street behind an inconspicuous green gate, in a city largely devoid of any natural beauty, this place was a hidden gem. Beside the walkway three guys lounged around a table, lazing in the hammock, and we exchanged smiles. I ducked beneath the overhanging branches, jostling limes with the top of my head. I walked up the stairs to the warmest welcome from Rozana and Joe. I’d booked just one night - but immediately extended to two.
Photo: The building opens up to view
After a lovely chat I’m shown to my room - spacious, air conditioned, with a charming feel. I took a much-needed shower, then joined the other guests outside, and I entertained them enough to make Fraser miss his bus. It felt like the first genuine conversations I’d had since arriving in this city.
I was immediately enchanted by this place, and I’d found it at a time I much needed some inspiration.
Part 2: Inspiration
I walked in as a guest for one night, but ended up volunteering there for three weeks. I’d managed to find my own inspiration before Milingona, but it certainly helped fuel it.
In my time there, I managed to progress a lot of things I’d recently been putting off. I finished building a website, tinkering enough to be happy for someone else to see it. I transcribed, edited and published a handful of my favourite stories I’d previously written, including those in German, then wrote the longest story I’ve ever written.
I completely rewrote my cover letter and resume for Engineering, and started firing off applications. I strongly suspect my German language skills are hurting my applications. When four applications came back declined, eight more I sent.
At first, I extended one night, then another.
I fit in with the guests, and developed a fondness for some of the volunteers. After an inspiring discussion with Joe, I decided I’d be interested in volunteering there. I’d talk to them about it first thing in the morning.
That night I went to bed late. As I usually do, I had my bed made, all my stuff packed together neatly, with just a draping towel to identify my bed. I choose the top bunk always. As I reached up to the bed to set down my backpack, I felt an odd sensation. I touched again and recoiled, as he jumped stiff to attention. There’s a man in my bed! After brief confusion, I turn the lights on and check: that’s my bed, my towel is there. The rest of the beds are full.
That morning I spoke with Rozana, who I learned was the sister of Verona - the owner and manager, husband Yuli.