Zrenjanin, Serbia

Breakfast in the morning was a Russian Breakfast. No coffee, but very good tea was served. The buffet table had the obligatory cucumbers and tomatoes and black, Russian bread was in the bread basket. We ate and started our ride along the West end of the Danube River, following close to shore.
After leaving Kladovo the road became very twisty and would have been fun to ride if it were not for the condition of its surface. Seemingly at random, large rectangular or square patches had been cut about 2 or 3 inches deep into the surface of the road. Let’s call them planned potholes!
Dangerous and with sharp edges they were cut into the road in preparation for repairs but those repairs never happened. The potholes were placed at angles that are very dangerous to a 2 wheeled vehicle. Entering at the wrong angle would certainly lead to you spilling your bike and leaning your bike would definitely create a severe crash. Carol and I tried to miss as many as we could by riding in between the cut outs yet we hit some doozies. Not only do those mean holes shake up your bike and your bones and rattle everything on and in the bike, but the sharp edges of the hole cut into the tires, also. Riding became a slalom run on curvy roads. I think somebody planned this with a vicious idea in mind. Just when you think you have it all figured out, this devious mind added tunnels. And yes, within the tunnels were those holes, too. Then, this mind does not add lights to the tunnels and now you ride in the dark with your headlights only, trying to find those potholes. After you think you found a solution this sick mind adds curves inside the tunnels to screw with you a bit more. Observing the color changes in the roads makes the cut outs somewhat visible and you can pick a line to avoid them, even if it means riding on the left side of the road sometimes. Sure, some holes go across the whole width of the road and there is just no way. BAM! You hit one of those suckers. Your bike shakes; you check your tires and add 25 cents to the swear jar. After 50 miles of riding like that you notice you never looked at the panorama. You are fighting to get going and 3 hours have passed by. Now something new is added. Tar has been painted in some of the holes so it is harder to see the color change. BANG! You hit another one! Then, some holes are fixed, some are not. You cannot tell, really since they come at you fast, 2nd gear is actually fast enough but you are in nowhere land, in a National Park kind of setting. Very few cars pass you, they have it a bit easier since they have 4 wheels but they too, hit hard. Some buses creep along, you pass them and ouch, you hit another cut out. Whoever thought about fixing roads like this has never ridden a motorcycle. The condition of the road was awful. We managed to get across the Gap section of the River Danube but I cannot say I enjoyed it. From the little we saw the panorama is not worth the difficulty we encountered. Bad suggestion, Mr. Croatia, we should have gone a different way across Serbia. Coming out of this nightmare at the small town of Veliki we took a well needed break and sipped some water to cool off our tempers. The sun had beaten us up at 37 degrees Celsius ( 104 F ) and we were glad to ride on a normal road.
Our next experience was a ferry crossing near the ancient town of Bela. I did not know there were only two ferries per day. Arriving 10 minutes before the afternoon ferry was pure luck. The ferry itself was homemade. The warped boards of the deck stood at nutty angles but we got across. That we had to ride unto the ferry using a gravel ramp and full speed, that we were almost the only passengers, that getting off needed a shovel to create another gravel ramp and good balance on our part we will not consider dangerous. By now, this is part of travelling in the Balkan region. Expect the unexpected. Live from minute to minute. Adjust to every kind of conceivable satiation. Make do with what you have, what you find along the way. Get help if you can, help yourself the best you can when you need it. While waiting for the ferry we had another quick drink at a restaurant next to the ‘terminal’. Another passenger, proud to practice his English had many questions and was in awe at our endeavors. Two Romanian men travelling on foot back to their country, after having found work for 2 weeks in Serbia told us of the hardship in surviving the ‘no work’ situation in Romania, This guy had a wife and 2 sons yet could not find any work at all in his homeland. His father or father-in-law, I cannot recall, was in the same situation. I could only listen; I could understand their plight yet could do nothing to help.
After getting off the ferry we rode through the small ferry town and took a look around. I felt like I would see and meet Huckleberry Fin around the corner. This was a small, sleepy town in nowhere land trying to hold on; the ferry serving as the only connection with life, arriving and departing twice a day. We left and were on our way, glad to have options available to us that others do not have.
The roads we took finally got us to the bigger town of Zrenjanin; an industrial town in the middle of the now totally flat landscape. The heat index was unchanged at 104 F or more. It was time to call it quits for the day. Naturally we have to find a hotel. I rode around town but saw nothing. One of my tricks in finding a hotel is to ask a taxi driver. Those guys know the towns well, know of good and bad hotels and can, if you do not understand their directions, drive you there. You just follow their cars and voila, you are at a hotel. You pay them for their service but at least you get a room without the frustrating effort of finding it yourself. This time, however, I asked a car parked nearby and not a taxi driver. The 2 guys were extremely courteous and nice and drove us to a hotel about 8 miles outside of town. No charge! It was their pleasure and our pleasure, too. Thank you!
The hotel was in the middle of wheat fields, near a major road but away from everything. Why they built a hotel here I do not know but does it matter? Does it matter that the large room we had, an apartment really, had a shower without curtains; that the water was yellow even though we ran it for 30 minutes? Our bikes were safe! We were safe and even had air conditioning. The place had a restaurant and we ate well. We slept well that night because it was quiet in the middle of the fields.
We survived another day and tomorrow we will leave for Hungary!

Kladovo, Serbia

When we left Macedonia our Croatian Harley friend told us to take a ride along the Danube on the border between Romania and Serbia. Here the River, over the last Millennium, carved a gap into the mountains and created, according to him, a wonderful and picturesque panorama. Kladovo serves as a gateway to this area and is used by many people as a stopover as well. Approaching town we saw the high rise hotel, Derdap, sticking out from the rest of the buildings.
Built on the banks of the River, the hotel is a multifunctional hotel that serves as a catch all for every kind of conceivable traveler and for groups as well. It is a hotel used for corporate meetings, for conventions, for functions such as weddings, etc. When we arrived, it was hosting the Serbian National Volleyball team plus another group I could not identify. We had people everywhere. Our bikes were parked in front of the building, away from foot traffic and we were told they would be safe there. Yet, while we had the bikes covered, they still seemed to be in the way. After some time, I saw cigarette ashes on the covers, some wet spots make clear that water was poured on them somehow; Carol’s bike was hit with a ball from the practicing Volleyball players who played in front of the main entrance and right next to the bikes. A pack of stray dogs used my front tire to mark their territory. It was a bit of mayhem. I felt we and our bikes were in the way. Not that things were intentionally done but we were out of our normal environment. I am not used to having a small band practice their Serbian music in front of the hotel. Some guys seemed intoxicated to me, dancing Serbian dances while holding a beer bottle in their hands. On the outside terrace young ‘business’ men neglected their dates or wives to close deals on their cell phone in loud, obnoxious voices. The young waiter, not just serving coffee or tea to the young women at the next table, but also getting a bit physical, touching and kissing and making out in general, to our amusement and certainly with the women’s consent.
Carol and I took a walk along the Danube River and watched, somewhat horrified, as young people swam in the River despite the obvious, non-sanitary condition of the water. The beaches were pebbled and yet people were lying on towels, sunbathing. A regular promenade had been built to make a section of the beach into a boardwalk. Not luxurious but not dilapidated yet, either.
The town of Kladovo itself had a small ‘Pedestrians Only’ area. Small shops had their doors wide open yet there was hardly a customer in sight. The sales personal sat outside, having a cigarette, drinking coffee, waiting for customers. I am not sure if the ambition of the townspeople was misadjusted or if the expected tourists did not show. The town was ready and I remembered a line from a movie; “If you build it they will come”. Well, here nobody came and the ones that did come did not come to visit the town. We ate dinner at the end of the row of open for business places without anyone else near us. We were the only people in this restaurant. The food was good and plentiful. It was a bit of a surreal experience. As darkness fell we moved into our room and worked on the blog, Carol called her mom, and we sorted our stuff in our luggage out and made ready for tomorrow’s early departure after breakfast. The Serbian Music in front of the hotel had stopped; the volley ball team no longer practiced their skills next to our bikes, the time was right to go to sleep. Unfortunately, the barking of a pack of wild dogs kept us awake most of the night.

Niš, Serbia

Plotting our route for the day is something we do the night before or early in the morning of the day of our departuresometimes with the help of the locals. We had accomplished our task of finding Zagoriče and mentally are now on the way back to Germany. We have plenty of time left but finding Zagoriče yesterday was an underlying current of our travels in Macedonia. We can now leave Macedonia with a feeling of accomplishment.
We picked a very local road to cross into Serbia. Finding the road was OK and we proceeded through small towns, past plowed fields, over wooden sections over a not so great road towards the border control. Getting out of Macedonia was easy enough. Even though the control at the border was as slow as molasses, we got out. A bit down the road we ran into the Serbian control and were turned back. Oh, our passports were OK, our bike papers were OK, all of our papers were OK but this border crossing did not have a booth that could sell us the needed Insurance for Serbia.
In Europe you need a ‘green’ card to show that you have Insurance when you cross the borders. Stefan Knopf did the paperwork for us and got us coverage for a lot of countries through the ADAC Insurance group. ADAC is a German Insurance group that underwrites Insurances for a lot of European countries; well, for almost all European Countries but not all. Some of the former Eastern Bloc countries are not included in the all encompassing coverage. We had to pay extra Insurance in Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia and now Serbia. I am not sure how the prices are calculated but I am sure it is a rip off as we paid anywhere from 10 Euros to 62 Euros per bike for the required insurance. So now we are stuck in nowhere land. We are out of Macedonia but not into Serbia. What to do? Our Passports are stamped rejected and we are sent back to Macedonia. The exit from Macedonia now became our entry again. When entering Macedonia the first time I fudged a little, I had 2 motorcycles written on one policy. Not exactly legal but it was good enough to get an entry into Macedonia and save some money. Nobody checked that closely the first time but now? Will they let me into Macedonia with the fudged policy? I noticed even the Macedonian side on this small outpost did not have an Insurance booth. All this legal mumbo-jumbo could be a disaster for us. So I played the clown on the way back from the rejected Serbian side and with a lot of talking, with asking for help instead of just being inactive and quiet and we entered Macedonia once more. Nobody noticed the not so valid Macedonian Policy; I just flashed it around without letting them read the details. I made a clown of myself, they all had a laugh and I rode away after my performance glad that I managed to get back into Macedonia.
The next border crossing was 90 minutes away but involved a ride all the way back the not so great road and a complicated search for the right road in the town of Kumanovo. We also ended up on the toll road. Well, all went well this time, we got out of Macedonia and into Serbia after paying the 62 Euros for each bike for insurance for a 2 week stay in Serbia. I am not sure how good the coverage is anyhow, how effective the Insurance would be in case it is needed. I just pay, like anybody else. I have no choice. Those are the expenses of the road.
Naturally we had to get our money exchanged again. Selling the Macedonia money, of course created a loss. Then buying Serbian money, the Dinar, created another loss. This exchange of currencies, the constant calculations of new values for anything is complicated. I like the Euro System. One currency for everything; no matter what country you are in. Like the US Dollar, no matter the State you are in, all States take the Dollar. With so many small countries, all having their own jurisdictions, all having their own sovereignty, all having their own currency, travelling becomes cumbersome and irksome.
So how far do we travel in Serbia before we stop for the day? The next big, meaningful city is Niš. We arrive in Niš in the late afternoon and I immediately see a sign for a hostel. Perfect! The road to Hostel Europa is under severe construction and we slide and slip on the gravel getting in but we make it to a nice place. The entire inside of the building is new; all the amenities are there including Wi-Fi. Yes, it is away from the town but that makes for quiet sleeping. The rooms are great, clean and large. The shower, after so many home made showers is a blessing. This is the latest in shower design. You can dial up a rain shower, let the music play while splashing yourself with water, have a blue light give you a great look, adjust the volume of the music built in, have 8 side jets hit you with water wherever you want to be hit and adjust the spray level and pressure points, too. If only we had hot water. It took me a while to figure out we had to put the hot water heater on to get hot water but after some time, all was well. The shower was great.
We took the local bus to town. The receptionist wrote down our stop in Cyrillic and with the help of the locals we made it to town and later back to the hostel without much difficulty. People are amazingly helpful if you ask for help.
Carol and I had an exploratory trip. We discovered an underground shopping street that went on forever. We traipsed from shop to shop only to get lost in this underground world. Coming back up to reality and some fresh air, we discovered ourselves in the middle of Niš and had to find our way back to a more recognizable spot. As luck would have it, we found the old part of town. An old castle, near the river gave us a respite and we joined the local tourists in taking a small toy train ride around the ancient complex. It was getting dark so now we experienced Niš at night. A rather modern town with some ancient roots, it was a good stop over for the day.
The bus took us back to our hostel and we slept well on our first night in Serbia.

Veles, Macedonia

We left Struga the next day for the town of Ohrid, a few miles to the West. I found the local road that winds itself along the water’s edge. The morning was crisp and lovely and just 30 minutes later we arrived in Ohrid, the most popular town on Lake Ohrid; the town with the history, castles, beaches and the target for us that day. We found downtown Ohrid without trouble but not the old city. I cannot say why but we just looked at each other, shook our heads and moved on. Maybe it was the challenge of finding Zagoriče that drove us, I cannot say. We left Ohrid to hunt for the small village of Zagoriče
I am very target oriented. Give me a cause and I will pursue it until it is done. We had located the village of Zagoriče on the map but getting to it was another matter. Carefully we plodded along, following signs in Cyrillic that lead us near. We missed it. In the town of Demir Hisar we had to ask and were guided by the gas station attendant back to a small exit off the main road and finally arrived at Zagoriče, the partial roots of Carol’s Children. It was an emotional experience for Carol and I am glad we did this trip to get to know, to see for ourselves, how a difficult life can dish out inequities. Zagoriče was indeed a few houses along a dirt track leading into the mountains. Not much had changed here for decades if not centuries. The faces of the people we met in town spoke of their life. If dental hygiene is an indication of civilization then the modern world has not arrived in Zagoriče. We are fairly sure Carol’s first mother-in-law was born here; Carol admired and loved this woman.
After some time trying unsuccessfully to solve the mystery of Carol’s former mother-in-law’s birthplace, we moved on. The road we were on now, moved deeper into the mountains. All the signs were old and in Cyrillic. We found our way, having had the previous experience with this signage. When the word spells mountains it evidently means twisty roads, hairpin curves and harsh drop offs. Being on non-touristy roads, being in a county that needs basic infrastructure, you can imagine how the roads were. Each corner could spell disaster. The detours we ran into did not help. One stretch had old cobble stones as pavement and I shuddered at riding this road for a long time but then it chanced into a fairly modern highway. Macedonia is in transition. There are things here that are very good, but other things are sill old and need a lot of work. Along the way I saw ecological disaster sections. Rivers were so full of trash that it left me shuddering. We proceeded carefully and while we encountered difficult sections we made it undamaged to Prilep only to find out that the next hotel would be in Veles, about 1 hour away. Ok, so it goes, planning and timing or flexibility is essential in countries without modern setups. Oh, there was a hotel in Prilep but it was an old time Russian hotel, 5 Star rating, for about 85 Euros per night; a bit out of our league even though the locals saw us as rich Americans or Canadians.
We rode the additional hour on a good road to Veles and a guy on a motorcycle, riding way too fast and showing off because we were there, guided us part way to the Motel Montenegro. This motel was built in anticipation of tourists but lacked some basics, like being able to close the bathroom door. The shower had no curtain so the water ran freely, flooding everywhere. The prices, since this was the only motel about, were too high but we had no choice. We paid left the next morning after a breakfast shared with an older Croatian Harley Motorcycle rider
who made his money in Germany. He now lives 6 months in Germany and 6 months in Croatia. This man, speaking the language of the old Yugoslavia, gave us some tips as what to see in Serbia, our next target.

Memories Old and New ( Carol Taub )

My journey to Macedonia began many years ago with stories of remote rural villages, hardship and Greek oppression, related to me by Dimana Vassos, the mother of my first husband and the grandmother of my children. She’d had a difficult life, married at the age of fourteen and bearing her first child at the age of fifteen. After the end of World War 1, with no work in the area, her husband and many other young men of the village left to try to find work in Canada. By this time Dimana had two sons and lived frugally on the little money she was sent from Canada and by taking in laundry. Since she was the only woman in the village who could read and write (taught by her mother as there were no schools), Dimana became the unofficial letter writer and reader for the women of the village whose husbands had travelled to Canada. The village was called Zagoriče (sounds like Zagorichee).
Eventually, Dimana was sent a ticket for her and the children to join her husband in Toronto. In order to obtain a passport, Dimana had to change her last name and that of her children from the Macedonian spelling of ‘Vasoff’ to the Greek ‘Vassos’ since her village had been given to Greece after WW1. At this time the people were forbidden to speak Macedonian and were required to speak Greek. But since transportation in the area was by mules and they only responded to Macedonian commands, the people said they were talking to their donkeys if caught.
Dimana arrived in Toronto and again survived by taking in laundry. Her husband paid infrequent visits but managed to father two more children before disappearing altogether. She eventually learned enough English to get a job in a garment factory where she was paid piecemeal for sewing sleeves on men’s coats. She was so quick that the other women were angry because she made them look incompetent; so to keep the peace, she held back on her finished work and handed it in when there were fewer work orders. She worked hard to put her youngest son, James Dimiter Vasoff (registered with the Macedonian spelling of his name) through High-school and help support him in University.
Dimana developed a strong network of friends in the Macedonian community in Toronto but abstained from the often heated discussions on the future of Macedonia – Socialism, Communism, Independence etc. She was an emotionally strong, independent woman; she was an intelligent, kind, caring, gentle soul. She died in 1975. I admired her tremendously.
So it became a bit of a quest – to try to find the village of Zagoriče where this amazing woman had her roots. We think we found it after leaving Struga and with some backtracking to locate the unmarked, narrow, one lane, paved, laneway leading into the village. There was a grassy playing field on which a horse was grazing at the entrance to the village. The buildings were mostly of clay brick construction, some of which were very old and in disrepair. Others were newer. The village was quite clean with no trash but obviously very poor. It was sad to me to know that Dimana’s village and the people in it still struggle to eke out an existence.
We met a family (mother, daughter,son – about 9 yrs.) in the village and at first they were reluctant to speak to us. The young boy spoke very limited English and I think we won him over when I gave him a Canadian Flag pin. We tried to explain that my husband’s family had come from this village but had limited success. It seems that even an older neighbor who joined the discussion had not heard of the Vasoffs. Were we in the right village? I don’t know for sure as there are similar sounding villages in nearby Bulgaria. We did have it confirmed that we were in Zagoriče when a man (the woman’s husband?) who understood minimal English arrived in a car.
This discussion took place at the side of the road beside what seemed to be a barnyard with chickens, a dog and cat. There was a barn but we did not know if it was used for animals. The area was quite muddy and the road beyond turned to rutted dirt so we made our goodbyes and carefully turned around to backtrack the way we’d entered the village.
It was with mixed feelings that I left this area. I admire Dimana even more than ever for carving out a life for herself in Canada after such a humble beginning. She restarted her life in a strange country, essentially by herself; she successfully raised four children putting the younger two through school and eventually she owned her own home. She was an amazing woman.
Thank you Hans, for the opportunity to tell this story and for assisting me in locating and identifying David and Brian’s roots.

Struga, Macedonia

The roads after the first 100 Km greatly improved in Albania. So much so that we made it to the capital, Tirane, in no time the next day. Tirane is large, busy and business-like. We first thought of spending some time in this town but then decided to just head for the border town of Pogradee on Lake Ohrit instead.
Now that we had entered the mountains and were riding east, Albania became more idyllic. I like the genuine towns, the old ways we saw on the side of the road. Men were cutting grass using a scythe, women helped stacking hay. The ancient implements used are handcrafted, wooden and work well even today. Grass was also being cut using motorized sickle movers of various models and with even greater variety of configurations. Fifty years ago, when I worked on a farm in the Black Forest in Germany, we used similar equipment. Am I getting old? The fields in Albania are well tended, however, and food grows in abundance.
Just after we passed the town of Perrenjas we ran into road construction. I asked the workers how long the construction site was and they told me about 30 Km or all the way to Pogradee, our target town. What to do? We would have loved to stay one more day in Albania, since a one night stay is nothing and no indication of a county. But given the conditions of the predicament we were in, riding on loose sand and gravel for 30 Km plus the threat of imminent rain, we decided to take the lesser evil and enter Macedonia at Radezha, especially since going back to Perrenjas was no option and we didn’t know if there was a hotel there.
There is no exchange booth to exchange the Albanian Leke to Macedonian Dinar at the border. The bike insurance needed to enter Macedonia costs 50 Euro per bike. Ouch! While the personal at the border tried to help, the language and the Cyrillic added to the difficulties in communication. I managed to get most of my Albanian money changed into Euros at a local store on the Macedonian side. Carol tried, too but did not like the way she was treated by the 4 – 5 young men in the store. She left the store without getting her money exchanged.
We were in Macedonia, the country - no, not the part of Greece or Bulgaria that was once called Macedonia. The conflicts with Greece about the name, about the territory and the language are ancient. No love is lost between the two countries. Macedonia is a very old land, the birth place of Alexander the Great. Naturally, Pella, the actual Birthplace of Alexander is in today’s Greece. But when Alexander was born, this was part of the Macedonian Empire and therefore he was Macedonian. Confusing? No matter, we are just riding and visiting, we do not have to solve any of the animosity between the two countries.
Not far from the border, the first larger town we come to, Struga, is our stop for the night. Positioned directly on Lake Ohrid it serves as tourist destination for many Balkan Nations. The lake is unique in the world and Wikipedia spells out:
Lake Ohrid (Macedonian: Охридско Езеро, Ohridsko Ezero; Albanian: Liqeni i Ohrit) straddles the mountainous border between the southwestern Republic of Macedonia and eastern Albania. It is one of Europe's deepest and oldest lakes, preserving a unique aquatic ecosystem with more than 200 endemic species that is of worldwide importance.[1] The importance of the lake was further emphasized when it was declared a World Heritage site by UNESCO in 1979. However, human activity on the lake shores and in its catchment area is resulting in the ecosystem coming under stress
Similar to Lake Baikal in Siberia, Lake Ohrid has a unique ecosystem. Although the beaches are fragile and endangered I wanted to see them and the uniqueness of it all. We later passed on the beaches when it turned cold and stormy. We walked around town, enjoyed the many shops in the pedestrian only zone, took a picture of the Poet Bridge, where once or twice a year international poets read their latest creations in their own language to onlookers along the river’s edge. We made the best of the town before the thunderstorm drove us for cover. Timing is everything and we enjoyed a wonderful, local meal while the rain drummed in buckets on the roof.
We were in Macedonia, a land locked country with a history so old, so long, so complicated it boggles my mind. We are in Macedonia, with a future that boggles the minds of many people. What will this country look like in years to come? The language is ancient, complicated. The writing is Cyrillic and again, complicated to the modern Western World. Most of the land is mountainous. Half the land is too rugged to farm. Split into Muslim and Christian faiths Macedonia struggles along. Yes, it has applied to join the EU. In better condition than Albania, it too, has Mercedes Benz cars in the streets. Again it is said that Russians buy the nicest, best parts of Macedonia for their vacation homes. Techno music sounds from coffee bars in bigger cities. Men wear horizontally stripped T-shirts and Gym trousers with a stripe running vertically along the outside of the pant legs. All men I saw smoked cigarettes. Many men had ultra short hair cuts. Women are made up, dressed well but in colors and styles quite different than my eyes are used to. All the signs I describe are signs of heavy Russian influence, if not of Russia itself. There is money in Macedonia but I would say it is Russian tourist money, not money from the GNP of Macedonia. I have seen no factories; I cannot say what Macedonia produces that is needed worldwide. While the past of Macedonia can be studied, the future cannot be predicted.
Carol will write the rest of the Macedonian story as it was a more personal journey for her.

Lezhe, Albania

A glorious morning started us off, the weather was wonderful. Finding our way through Montenegro is easy enough and once familiar with the road signs, it is not difficult to find your way. Naturally we got lost a few times because I did not see the one sign giving us directions, but we managed well. Montenegro is not large. The valuable land is along the coast, and I am told is mostly owned by rich Russians. I have rarely seen so many Mercedes Benz cars in one spot. Not the latest models, mind you, but the Mercedes Star is on about 50% of the cars on the road. Smoke puffs out of their maladjusted mufflers, choking you when you ride behind them. The same is true for the busses and trucks that run on diesel fuel. Most emit a visible, black exhaust. I felt a scratchy throat at the end of the day from riding in traffic, at a slow pace behind clouds of emissions.
The whole coastline of Montenegro looks wonderful and there are towns that are exclusively for the very rich. Sh. Stefani is such a town. I only saw it from afar since it is placed on an Island and to get to it was too difficult and time consuming. We followed the coastline and the roads are in basic good shape. Yes, we went through the resort towns of Budva and Petrovac but did not stop there. These towns were busy metropolitan towns, lots of traffic, lots of noise, lots of cars, and yes, they had some beach sections but we went on. The high, rugged mountains to the left of us probably had some awesome riding roads but we wanted to make it to Albania and with a short dip towards the capital of Podgorica we took a short cut and entered Albania.
What a shock it was. The crossing into Albania was without difficulty. Yes, we had to change money (I Euro = about 140 Leke), yes I bought a map of Albania since I could not find a map outside of Albania and yes, and we had to by extra Insurance for 9 Euros each bike. All the formalities were very friendly; it was a cinch getting into Albania. What shocked me and especially Carol, were the road conditions and the way people lived. The housing was old, made of concrete blocks and not well taken care of. The first 60 or so Km of the main road was like a washboard. I took a BMW strap I carry for emergencies and tightened it around Carol’s Givi top box. The box bounced so much that we were afraid it would fall off. Everything rattled that was not tight or screwed down tight.
Potholes abounded. The road took our full attention and concentration. We missed the chance to take some pictures of missing manhole covers in the middle of town but we did see in time that the covers were missing. One uncovered manhole had an old tire stuck in it to warn drivers, another was just there, no warning, no barricade. In the middle of the road, in the normal tire track I passed a manhole with no cover. I felt like I was back in Siberia. Albania has applied for entry into the EU but I cannot see how they can manage to get in. The roads are deplorable; the living conditions are one of the poorest I have seen on this trip. And we just entered this country and it is early afternoon. Where will we sleep tonight? Entering Albania is like stepping back in time. A lot of merchandise is still transported by horse. I saw coal delivery wagons, trash and scrap iron hauled this way. We shared the road with pigs, cows, horses, a very over-loaded hay wagon and even a woman pushing a wheelbarrow filled with water jugs.
After a few miles we entered the larger town of Shkoder. I could not see a hotel, yet I also saw smoke spewing Mercedes Benz cars. So there must be some money here. I was concerned about finding a hotel. Where do you start when you do not speak the language? To make things worse, a lot of signs are in Cyrillic. When we entered the next bigger town of Lezhe I stopped and asked a police man sitting in a car if the town has a hotel. He thought a little and then indicated to follow him. This nice guy led us into town and stopped in front of the, presumably, only, hotel in town and with a smile, left us there. Naturally, it started to rain just then. I left the bikes with Carol and walked into the lobby of the only hotel and surprise, they had a room for us for 4200 Leke (30 Euro) incl. breakfast. Parking was in the back of the hotel behind the hanging laundry but was not easy to find since it involved finding your way by reckoning alone through the one-way back alleys of the neighborhood.. We made it; we had a hotel for the night.
It was early in the afternoon but I felt good that we stopped. Firstly we avoided the major rain fall, then we found a hotel with a spot for our bikes and we were in a major town and could explore whatever there was too see. We survived the first part of Albania’s roads without accident and are in one piece. The top box, albeit rattling severely, did not come off. Walking up and down the streets of Lezhe gave us a chance to observe Albanian life on a Friday afternoon with people rushing about. The sun had returned and the weather was pleasant. We could adjust ourselves to our new surroundings.
Yes it was a shock to enter into a county in Europe that is still very much like it was 30 or 50 years ago. The past Communistic Regime’s imprint is still clearly visible and has not advanced much in the last decade. Visit Albania and you will visit like you would have visited in 1980. There is a lot of work to be done here. The people are friendly, helpful, and basically happy but I felt like the leadership, the master plan was missing. Buildings have been started and then abandoned. Old factories are in decay. Lots of young families and/or young men have little work and little income. Friday night’s entertainment was to walk the large main street up and down and to show off your new dress or pants and be seen; or to sit and watch the strollers and enjoy your cup of coffee; strong Turkish coffee that causes heart palpitations. Lezhe is no tourist town but it served us well as our first town in Albania.
Dinner for two was an amazing 1500 Leke that night. Albania is a bargain to travel in if you find a hotel.

Kotor, again!

We woke up to tremendous thunder, to buckets of rain coming down outside our room. Lucky for us we had covered the bikes with our bike covers before we went to sleep. Do we get dressed and ride in this weather? The sky is gray, the town deserted outside. It is early, 6 AM. Breakfast is not being served until 9 AM, we paid for it already. Everything is soaking wet outside. It would be a good time and a good way to leave; we could even fire up the motors and ride out of this Forbidden City since I believe no policeman would be walking his beat in this kind of downpour. Not even a dog is stupid enough to walk through a miserable, cold shower like this.
I did what I very seldom do, I did nothing. It is now 10.30 AM and I am sitting in the bar downstairs writing these words. I had my omelet, a cup of strong coffee and all is updated on my blog journal. All I need is an internet connection, but with weather like this the satellite uplink will not work. Carol solved 2 difficult Sudoku puzzles already. There is just nothing to do but read and wait. The rain is letting up; it still rains, but not as heavily as earlier. We walk from shop to shop around the town. I get to know the town dog that lives by himself in town without ownership. Somehow he survives. I get to see how the town of Kotor moves without any tourists. The rain surly keeps the visitors away. The real pace of Kotor is very slow. The local people talk to each other, say hello, shake hands, give each other a kiss on each cheek and just talk. It sure is small town living. Women sit under a large umbrella, smoking their cigarettes, talking. We are the outsiders, the visitors with the money. They are the owners of this place.
Carol and I walk all over town in the afternoon. By now the rain has stopped but it is too late to start riding. We will wait until tomorrow. We discover little visited sections of town;
see an old hospital built by the Venetians and a fish market. We see dilapidated buildings, too. We hear the bells of all the churches in town toll. We hear the practice session of the local orchestra, trying to play a Bolero. It sounds terrible. We see things with a visitor’s eye yet we try to be as local as possible. Carols sends some postcards to her loved ones. I just sit and take in this village life; the good of it and the ugly, too.
I know life is the daily in and out for most people; daily routine, daily chores, daily responsibilities. I am very lucky, I am blessed, I can just visit and then leave. The people here have to stay every day, face the tourists every day. Their very existence depends on visitors. Kotor is a tourist spot; not extremely attractive, but good enough for a one day stop over. Cruise ships are the main source of income for all. The lack of parking spaces makes visits by car cumbersome if not impossible.
We will leave Kotor tomorrow, rain or shine, yet I also had a great time doing nothing but watch.