You Win Some, You Lose Some

I’ll be honest, I had no idea we would end up living and working in a hostel in Albania. But that being said, I could not have foreseen any of the other events that lead up to this moment either.

It all started with a particularly convincing common room of Americans. We were staying in Meteora, Greece, and over a bottle of sangria, a group of four ex-Mormon lads told us about their plans to head north to Albania. Albania? I thought. What the hell is in Albania?

Up until this point my only reference for the country was second hand from my sister, who’d visited on her OE a year prior. She’d told me with great passion about how she despised spending time in the capital city Tirana, but that the coast was nice and she’d had kebabs delivered to her on the beach. Nice, but it didn’t sound like a particularly stand out place.

As we drank sangria at the Meteora hostel, Finn and I had been working under the assumption that we would skip Albania altogether- flying right over the top to land in Montenegro or Croatia. After all, Montenegro had astounding mountains and Croatia was legendary for its stunning beaches. But these Americans had flown 16 hours across the Atlantic and were set on going to Albania. Interesting. However it was the fifth American, Jules, who really solidified it for us. She told us that not only does Albania have beaches and mountains that rival Montegro and Croatia, but it has also magnificent hiking, lakes, culture and history. But what really sold us: it’s cheap. $10 for a restaurant dinner, kind of cheap. So when we found a sale for a €30 flight from Athens to Tirana, we headed to Albania.

Tirana

The flight was on Air Albania, a small airline that’s only been going since 2018. As a result, only a few dozen people lined up on the tarmac to board the plane. In another random stroke of fate, we spotted a black flash in the hand of the man in front of us – unmistakably an NZ passport. Asher was the seventh Kiwi of our trip so far. We joined him for a coffee upon landing, and then he joined us at our hostel.

Three days in Tirana were mostly uneventful, though at no fault of Tirana’s. It just happened to be the first stop after a month on the go with Ben and Sam, and we had a lot of admin overdue. So we spent most of the two days trying to rebuild this website, catching up on writing, photo editing and laundry, as well as visiting a tailor to repair Finn’s shorts which had been torn during our time on Rhodes on an emblem of Helios. There was one tourist thing that I was set on doing in Tirana, and that was the House of Leaves museum. I highly recommend it to anyone. Its a powerful and unsettling look into the recent past of Albania. The museum doesn’t just display artifacts — it invites you to imagine what it meant to live under constant observation.

There is only one (well two) things that I regret missing in Tirana. These are Bunk’Art 1 and 2, gigantic nuclear bunkers converted into museums that detail Albania’s communist past. Apparently Bunk’Art 1 is better, as it is larger, though it is located further toward the outskirts of the city, compared to Bunk’Art 2 which is right next to Skanderbeg square. I will definitely be visiting these next time I’m in Tirana.

So everything was going all well and good for us so far. The next challenge was navigating the infamous Balkan bus system to get to Berat. I’d heard from family and friends that transport in the Balkans was a massive pain in the ass because everything was poorly organised and poorly communicated. We expected to arrive at the bus terminal, figure out the timetable, and grab something to eat. When we arrived, however, there was no terminal because it hadn’t been built yet. There was no timetable either, just about thirty busses and shuttles haphazardly squashed into a carpark. This seemed like it was going to be more difficult than we anticipated. As we got closer, we heard the drivers yelling destinations as if they were fishmongers at a farmers market. We walked into the middle and someone asked us where we were going. We told them and before we knew it, we’d been directed to a bus that said Berat in the window and had our bags put in the hold. Less than five minutes later, we were off. No need to work out any annoying ticket machines, we just paid the driver in cash when he came around on the bus. Sweet as. The only strange thing about the trip was that two hours in, they made everyone get off and change busses. We arrived at the terminal with one other guy, an Australian lad, as it were. We agreed to split a cab into town.

Berat centre

We’d been pretty lucky so far, but here was where my luck ran out. The taxi had just arrived at our destination when I realised I’d lost my wallet. I knew immediately that it must have fallen out on my pocket while I was on the bus. The question was, which bus? But it didn’t matter at that point, I was so exhausted from travel that we resolved just to get to the hostel.

By the time we arrived there, I had more or less accepted my fate. The wallet had contained about $200 in Albanian Lek, three debit cards and one credit card, which I wasn’t too concerned about. What I was concerned about was my NZ drivers license, because I knew it would be a colossal drama to get a new ID issued from within Albania. I was also dreading the insurance process (we’ll get to that). We checked into the hostel and told the owner, Refat, about my situation. To my surprise, immediately offered to help. We got in his car and he drove us to the bus station.

Now, if you know me you’d know I am not good at keeping track of my things at the best of times. You’d think this would be a weakness (you’d be right) but at least this means I came prepared, with tiles on my keys and wallet. Furthermore, we have AirTags in both mine and Finn’s backpacks thanks to my boss Warren, who bought me them as a leaving gift instead of flowers. So at least I knew myself enough to give me a fighting chance.

The only issue was that the location hadn’t updated since about an hour ago. It last pinged on the side of the road in rural Albania. Just when I thought all hope was lost, I got a notification- my wallet had been found. Someone had searched through the wallet, scanned the QR code on the back of the tile, and sent me a message with their phone number. Hoorah!! Refat called the finder and arranged to meet him outside his apartment for the handover. And if that wasn’t fortunate enough, his apartment was literally right next door to the hostel. Everything was there. I couldn’t believe my luck.

Though stressful, this experience was a true testament to the kindness of Albanians. People had gone out of their way to help me at every step of the way. Refat dropped everything to help me search, even though (as I later found out) it was his birthday. The drivers at the bus terminal had rung up their friends to try and track down the bus driver without being asked. And of course, there was the goodness of the man who found my wallet, who could have easily made a quick $200, to instead give his time to try and get the wallet back to me. I am still immensely grateful to this community. We gave Refat a wee tiramisu and a souvenir tiki magnet to say thank you.

Refat and friends at the canyon

As crazy as the day had been, it was not over yet. We met a lovely Aussie girl, Emilia, who invited us on a walk up to the castle for sunrise. We said yes, as we were determined to get the day back on track. But before we could leave, in a devastating turn of events, Finn’s camera pierced a can of beer in his daypack. Beer sprayed everywhere, soaking him, his bed, and completely saturating the camera. It was goneburger.

I was very impressed with Finn’s response. It certainly could have been the final straw after a very long day, but he shook it off like a champ (literally) and insisted we go to the castle for sunrise anyway. And I was so glad we did. Watching the sun go down behind Tomorri mountain and set a gentle glow upon the ottoman city felt like a moment of closure. Whatever had gone wrong today was finally past us, and soon we would wake up and start fresh.

Pics of the aftermath

And that we did. We woke up and embarked on a hostel tour to Osumi canyon, the longest and deepest canyon in the Balkans. The water was so blue and incredibly inviting in the 34 degree heat. We spent the day swimming, sunbathing, and eating an Albanian barbecue that Refat had cooked up using driftwood on the beach. The meat qoftes were a standout, but an honourable mention goes to the grilled zucchini, aubergine, and capsicum. On the way there and back we also stopped at an communist era weapons factory for a history lesson, drove over a 1940s Nazi bridge, ventured down a mythological hole in the rock, and dangled our legs over the sheer drop.

The canyonmobile came prepared for any sudden disco

While we were on the journey, we spoke lots with Refat. He told us about how he developed the dream to open a hostel, got experience working in others, learnt English and German, and finally had the opportunity to start Hanna’s hostel (named after his baby niece). He is a man who takes pride in his work, will do miles extra to make sure his visitors have the best stay, and doesn’t even consider the hostel work- since he lives in the hostel, it’s his whole lifestyle.

We got along very well. We saw how much everyone who worked and volunteered there cared about the place and about each other. So when they mentioned that they were down a volunteer and looking for help, Finn and I immediately knew this was an opportunity not to pass up. We ended up staying on at the hostel for two weeks, volunteering our time to mop the floors, do the ironing and man the front desk for 4 hours per day. It was supposed to be in exchange for accommodation and breakfast, but we ended up being shouted communal dinners most days and drinks on the house.

Family dinners, the awesome ironing machine and my lollycake-raki cocktail combo for our final night

But our time in Berat was more than that, really. We gained an Albanian family in Refat, Ressie and Ben, a hostel-load of international friends, and an excuse to come back to Albania again.

So sometimes, when you’re traveling (or even when you’re not) life can start to feel like you’ve hit a bad streak. But remember to keep looking out for the good stuff, and don’t be afraid to ask for help, because some pretty cool things can come as a result.

Signing off,
Milly xx

Me, Ressie, Refat, Finn and Ben