After a good nights sleep, surviving Ben's smelly feet (which is probably the most hazardous event of all my travels to date - bar the Israeli gun in my face in Nablus) and a hearty breakfast of cheese, grape jam and savoury doughnuts 'a la casa Tomor' we set out on a trudge up the many cobbled and winding alleyways of Berat, not unlike the winding paths and steps my Gran would lead us up and down in the Welsh valleys when I was a boy. If we had only glanced at a map for an instant we would have known none of these winding alleyways we were exploring would end up at the castle but it did make for excellent exercise for the buttocks.
Barat is a little gem tucked neatly into a deep valley. Its traditional houses climbing the steep hillsides on either side of the river and its newer suburbs drifting up and down the valley with its stark socialist architecture, squares and promenades. Crowning the town is an Ottoman castle which still hosts a thriving neighbourhood within its fortified walls.
The mountain top presented stunning views of the valley beneth us, byzantine churches, socialist monuments, a sheep on a leash on its daily stroll and a very pretty cow enjoying the lush grass of the Kasbah.
Rain threatened so it was time to head back down the mountain and head to our next town. However, if you want to leave Barat you do so in the morning, which was one minor detail we had omitted to investigate beforehand so after bidding a confused Tomor goodbye (and watching him ride around town on his bicycle looking for his next guests) grabbing a bite to eat and scratching our heads at the bus stop, we found ourselves on our way back to the distillery which is 'la casa Tomor'.
Being blissfully unaware of the bus timetables did ensure we got to see some real life here, including kids playing football (or Soccer as every Englishman knows its really called) and aged women nimble as mountain goats in high heels making their way up the cobbled steps to their houses in the sky. It's on this walk one such aged old lady clad all in black (and funky runners) take great amusement at watching Ben take one of his many slips and trips... and it was with great pride that a local lad of about 7 or 8 practiced on us his only phrase in English, 'Fuck You!' - I was giggling too much to return the favour.
On our arrival back at the house, still protected by the all knowning all seeing Smurf, we were greeted with a plate of rich sticky grapes from the vine, laced with honey and moonshine; 'you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave'.
Wednesday, 20 October 2010
Hotel California, Berat
Ne Komputamibob!
Been a while I know. I'm still alive and well but now in Macedonia. Long story short Internet cafes are few and far between since leaving Albania (go figure), you'd think it would be the other way around!
Chapters to catch up on are:
Hotel California (Berat)
Smelly feet
Milk bottle glasses
Moonshine
Peace Core
Rain, Rain and more Rain
Horid Orid and backgammon on pharmaceuticals
Viva la Vincini
Hotel Tutto, the 15,000 sq ft hotel with only seven rooms
Monastic interlude, Baptise the sinner! Gay icons, Oh, and Ben the sex slave to Sweaty Jovan - last I saw of him he had a smile on his face
Debar, oh how we loved Debar
The psychedelic Art Hostel
Quebecois speed junkies in Skopje
Free running socialists
Pickpockets fuck off!
7 o'clock curfew
Sorry to keep you waiting but there is only one computer in Skopje and there is a line up of horsey women playing cards with the pungent (and rather sickening) smell of rancid olives which is clouding my brain somewhat, so its back on the Macky D wine (Macedonian) a good nights sleep and onto Pristina bright and early.
Monday, 18 October 2010
Moonshine Tomar de Berat, al Albania
After misreading my flight details and finding the Istanbul tramway down for maintenance the journey to Istanbul airport was a little more stressful than I had planned but the journey was uneventful after some initial adjustments and I arrived in good time to catch the plane journey from hell.
Queuing isn't a strong point in these parts and the process of security checks and boarding the plane would have tested the most patient - business men and old ladies alike aggressively pushing the queue and with bags and umbrellas taking out the odd eye as they made their way up the isle of the plane. The actual flight was quite subdued but immediately on landing and as the plane was still taxiing off the runway half the passengers proceeded to jump out of their seats, open lockers, drop bags on peoples heads, argue and push their way to the front of the plane... only to be first on the bus to the terminal and get into the terminal last - genius! This didn't stop them pushing their way through the immigration line and then impatiently climbing onto the moving carousel to look through the luggage hatch one after the other - there was a common attribute I notice and it wasn't that they were all skinny.
As luck would have it, mine was the first bag out and I was the first through customs and onto Albanian soil proper, finding my airport pickup waiting for me; with a genuine friendly face which has defined my impression of Albanian's... The airport pickup was just as well as it meant I could avoid the mob of taxi drivers touting for business which hits you like the Moroccan sun immediately as you exit customs.
After meeting up with Ben at the hotel - it was very weird meeting up with a work colleague in Eastern Europe, especially as I am usually travelling alone given most of my friends and acquaintances aren't up for roughing it in dictatorships and ex-dictatorship states - and finding the owners had given us our own rooms at no extra charge - nice hotel too! - a walk around downtown Tirana to see the pyramid mausoleum for the late Stalinist dictator (only 25 years old and looking the worse for wear, daubed with graffiti, windows broken, tiles falling off) and checking out the local hot spots. After walking around in circles on a fruitless hunt real Albanian food (we we rent about to make our first meal in Albania pizza, burgers or pasta!) we headed back to the hotel for a feast of home cooked food and more Albanian wine than was sensible.
A few games of backgammon, more wine, a massive plate of olives and peppers, a liberal helping of duty free whiskey (and a Kinder country bar, weird with whiskey but still yumm!) and bed was the only remaining option. This morning, all good intentions to get up at 9am were lost to a hangover, with love from Albania.
After breakfast we caught a cab which we thought was to Berat (for 7 Euros) but which ended up at the bus station where we watched the world go by and let the reality of our hangovers sink in and waited to depart for Berat (Ben had a turn of the shakes and I felt more than a little ick)... a 2 hours bus journey (for about 2 Euros each) stopping and starting, hotter than a camels snatch in a heat wave and feeling a little more than queasy and we arrived in Berat, a UNESCO World Heritage Site - with its old houses, mosques and churches built on top of each other with half tubular ceramic roof tiles (not unlike Mexican or Spanish roof tiles) and scaling the valley walls in a moody mountain setting - the real Albania.
A very friendly older local, Tomar, approached us straight off the bus and offered us a room in his house with a home cooked breakfast, how could we refuse? ...and are we glad we didn't as we found ourselves in one of the very same old buildings right in the thick of the old district - to further delight we found grape vines growing over the inner yard from which Tomar turns the juice into wine and the skins into Raki, a local moonshine... Tomar even gave us a tour of his fermenting and distilling equipment and we ended up tasting and buying a bottle of the good stuff to ease our hang-overs; Ben's face lit up like a kid at Christmas - Ben, being able to consume inhuman amounts of alcohol and safely operate dangerous machinery at the same time (he must be a communist!) - and the very welcome hair of the dog cemented our approval of our new accommodation.
I should note here the various stuffed toys we saw hanging on the outside of homes from Tirana to Berat, some funny, some weird, some new and others looking a bit worse for wear. A little while after settling into our accommodation I noticed a smurf above the door to our room - Tomar doesn't speak English but he does speak Italian which is thankfully similar enough to Spanish to render my singular and most basic of foreign languages skill very useful - the conversation still isn't without its challenges but it did enable us to figure out the purpose of these little, or in some cases large, oddities - it turns out these are considered to bring good fortune as would a horse shoe in England; who knew a stuffed smurf or a bugs bunny could solve all my problems? I'm considering buying one and securing it to the back of my backpack, I'm sure it will meet the approval of the locals. The smurf you see above protected us from the darkness during our stay with Tomar the local moonshine cook.
After settling in we took a casual walk around the centre of town, past the old houses climbing the valley walls on one side and the socialist architecture on the other, mobs of birds making a racket in the trees, men playing domino's in the local coffee shops, kids football training on the town's central football pitch (the first we've seen without chickens and cows outnumbering the players) and after more difficulty finding a place to eat (no food and only water, beer, coffee and strangely herbal tea only on the cafe menus) we finally found a place to eat and play a few rounds of backgammon - my tried and tested method to finding local and edible food is to find the most basic cafe with fluorescent lighting and this time was just as fruitful, with a local meat dish we've forgotten the name of and we aren't even sure what meat it was, but it was top nosh for 3 Euros each.
Hangover creeping back so its time to sign-off now and hit the moonshine again, purely medicinal of course.
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Balkans! ...no really!
It's with a greater awareness that comes with old age I knew how the week leading up to my trip would eventually pan out...
No fewer than five house guests, a maddening amount of work admin and late nights has meant I've arrived at my destination feeling a little deflated in the energy reserves. Something was watching over me this morning though, I awoke naturally and checked the clock at 6:30am, half an hour later than planned, to find whatever I was attempting to do with the alarmclock before I fell asleep it wasn't setting the alarm!
Long story short, I made it with uncharacteristically low stress and got an hours kip on the plane. Plane was a bit worrying, given the amount of duct tape holding overhead baggage and TVs in place, but it flew ok and I arrived in a now familiar Istanbul.
In the wonderfully basic Hotel Sipahi now considering a duty free bottle of whiskey but knowing food should really be my first thought. The Turks know how to make food look appetising and the walk from the hotel down to the blue mosque has plenty of food and local talent to feast the eyes.
So it's a short post tonight so I can eat, cruise, drink and get a good nights sleep before moving on... 3 weeks, 4 countries and hopefully lots of photo opportunities and stories to tell... Tomorrow Albania, then Macedonia and Bulgaria as I make my way back to Istanbul again before flying home on 6th November...
Stay tuned!
Sunday, 11 October 2009
Day ? - On The Road To Damascus
Finally found a proxy site that hasnt been blocked from Syria. I should be in bed, but the clock maker from Homs has had me walking around the less picturesque sites of Damascus in an attempt to broaden my horizons or impress, I am not too sure.
Aleppo was uneventful unless you count the 12 hour tour of the dead cities and a 150km round trip to Krak des Chaviliers (sp?) in a mini bus of suspect safety record, the feeling I am being followed and the hammam of pain.
Aleppo is a strange city. Full of life and friendly folk but missing something or having too much of something, Ive not yet decided. Police on every corner, shoe shine boys touting for business - not sure whey they think black shoe polish would look good on my green and yellow veggie pumps though! - the odd turf war between the shiners and the usual traffic dodging and hussle and bussle of any middle eastern city.
When I arrived at the hotel the day before I introduced myself to a couple of American girls travelling through the middle east. They were in full swing talking about themselves and their trip - which from my questioning I could only determine a lot of down days and no learnt Turkish or Arabic, not even one word? No.
Next day I awoke late an could hear the American girls talking about themselves over breakfast. I was beat and not up for spending my time listening to down day travel stories so I decided to catch up on some internet research and take an easy walk around the new town, avoiding the touts in the souq as my brain wasnt up for it that day. Back at the hotel the American girls in their early 20s were still in the central courtyard of the hotel drinking Syrian Gin and lemonade while still talking about themselves. I introduced myself for the second time as they didnt seem to know who I was.
Early-ish night and the best sleep for a few days set me in good stead for the tour of the dead cities (Byzantine/Roman) and to suposedly the most impressive castle in the middle east (according to that well known ambiguous character Lawrence of Arabia). Dead cities interesting, castle disapointing, although the contrast between the outter Arab and inner Norman architecture and the warren of cavenous halls and tunels (which seemingly had no plan or design) was impressive, the mounds of trash and unguarded holes (skylights) in the floors, unprotected 100ft drops, rusty and rickety railings all left me with a feeling this country doesnt give a crap about anything or anyone. On the drive back to Aleppo the driver picked up some hitch-hikers, the one who sat in the back with me smelt like horse dung and insisted on showing me his funky phone which also acted like a torch, woo hoo! Trouble was it didnt actually work as a phone! ...and 12 bloody hours later I was back at the hotel famished. The German guy Thomas I met on the tour (which only consisted of 6 of us... a nice Dutch couple, a couple from Costa Rica - who seemed to make out at every opportunity, Get a room! - and Thomas and me) and I went out for some food where we ordered enough food to feed a family (resiting the raw meet and birds on the menu - restraint was always my middle name - but going for the meat and hummus, cherry meat, more meat, some more meat and a Taboule (sp?) salad - 1/2 of our five a day) and then deciding we were both too tired and not really that hungry either... but hey, it only cost us 4 pounds each... Ive made bigger and costlier mistakes.
After another good sleep I was set for a final a walk around Aleppo, this time the souq and the castle - perched up on a seeminlgy man-made mound of considerable stature, enough to give a decent view over the city and be windy enough to blow me over a few times... not good when you consider this is the country of limited health and safety considerations, again with sheer drops unprotected by railings or signs. My britishness has started to internally criticize this lack of attention to my wellbeing.
Jerin the Canuk from Vernon joined me on my ramble, although in true west coast style he was 1hrs late, and only arrived after I made a reminder phone call... I chastised him for being a flakey west coaster and left it at that :)
I am starting to feel like I am being followed. I have seen the same man/boy over the last 2 days no matter where I visit... the souq, the park, the square... I had dismissed it until I again saw him at the castle and pointed it out to Jerin and commented how odd it seems. 30mins later he was getting as paranoid as me after we ran into the same guy another two times in two different locations... spooky!
Time to exit, and a small detour to Lattakia for some R&R. Argument in two different languages with a taxi driver who doubled his fare, a helpful female Lattakian meditator who discussed philosophy and meditation with me on the 4 hour bus ride and Muhammud the super chilled (to the point of vacant) hotel manager at the Tin Tin hostel (Hotel Safwan) on Al-Cornish, the place to be and be seen in Lattakia.
Met up with a Syrian contact I had made and we walked around the town to see the sights (in true Syrian style). The Cornish (Al-Cornish) is a boulevard that runs along the sea front in Lattakia although this isnt any ordinary sea front, this is a container port! Donde esta la playa?
This town has the mediterranian climate and the mediterrainian bohemian attitude (in the younger generation that is) but it lacks the view of the Mediterranian... and Lattakians like nothing more than to walk up and down the Cornish watching the container port in action 24/7.
Frist day in Lattakia I just rambled around and found little of interest except a burger and fries on the American street. Second day it was a staggeringly long 30mins to get to a beach of any significance... I was greeted by four batteries of canons, a host of bored looking army boys on military service, ram shackle beach cafes surrounded by rubble and old metal and plastic containers and the usual mounds and mounds of trash. Mediterranian beauty Syrian style.
I hung out with the locals in the evenings and had some good times smoking the shisha and comparing life in London, Canada and Syria, but by the 2nd day life here seemed like a lifetime away from stimulating so the next morning I up-ed and left for Damascus.
I seem to have shaked my tail for now, maybe it was just a stalker with determination but of limited means to follow me beyond the Aleppo city limits. Time will tell.
After the customary chaos buying tickets, working out who is sitting in which seat etc etc I arrive in Damascus and start the search for a hotel room... but this town has less beds available than Bethlehem on Christmas Eve!
Sleeping on the roof tonight (Thur 8th), Funky!
Friday, 2 October 2009
No Blog for You!
[limited post: added by Dino - limited web access from Syria]
Syria blocks Blogspot! ...please refer to http://twitter.com/dougalville where I will try to update with my basic movements until I am back online.
Day 6/7 Sunrise at Namrut, Turkish Taxi Mafia and The Doctor from Aleppo
[limited post: added by Dino - I have limited web access from Syria]
Asalaam Alaykum!
Harran? What Harran? Met a 20(?) year old Canadian from Vernon in BC hustling his way around the middle east and changed my plans from Harran to visit Kata and take a hike to the top of Namrut to see the sunrise. All plans change, nothing in life is a certainty and life has a habit of asserting itself... on the road this fact is ever more present.
After a self administered atheist baptism at Abrahams cave in Sanliurfa it was Cay (tea) and donners at the souk before heading to the Otogar (bus station) for the trip to Kata for the early morning dash and hike to Namrut.
Negotiating minibus journeys is never easy when you dont speak the language and when there are sharks looking to make a fast buck it becomes ever more difficult. Finally on a bus to Kata the Canadian and I settle in for the journey and talk shite and make heads turn - the Canadian is as loud as an American after all (Sorry Jerin!) and my occasional use of the F word, forgetting its just as prevalent here doesnt help either, oops!
After swapping busses and being passed on like a pair of cheap whores we arrive in Kata and get hustled straight into a tourist office... before long we were in our hotel and booked into a 100km/hr drive at 3am to Namrut...
Two pairs of trousers, 1 tshirt, 1 long sleeve tshirt, 1 merino layer, 1 fleece and 1 wind sheet... oh and the flat cap :) ...and still cold! ... the hike to the top of the mountain, about 400m was made harder by the early hour the lack of any light and the unsteady ground all the way to the top... we still burnt our way past all the round tourists stacked like camels with blankets to the top of the hill. At the top we had 10mins before the sun started to make its mark, so we embarked on a photo frenzy before making a loop around the impressive cone stack of shingles, myan like platform and fallen heads and back down the mountain to awake our driver and make another 100km/hr dash to the bat cave [will explain later] two roman bridges and back to Kata for breakfast with the hotel owner who was afraid of his own dog - Jerin was petting the pooch not minutes before he almost took the hands off the proprietor!
More busses this time to Gaziantep and lack of time persuaded us to shack up in a hotel for 20 TYL for the night (10 British pounds) for the both of us! Run by a man who talked to us constantly - only in Turkish and we guessed his son who stank of skunk weed... add to that an old man who seemed to live in one of the hotel rooms smaller than a broom cupboard and a woman who watched Turkish TV at volumes that could take the plaster off the walls and this was one whacky hotel... cant complain for the price though... squat toilets didnt make for a comfortable morning call though :-S
Got heavily cruised by a hot girly who chatted me up and insisted on taking my picture - 40 and still got it! Unfortunately 'it' is not what I want or need! - then she disappeared into the night... spent the rest of the evening learning backgammon and drinking Cay in a real mans tea house... Nargeili (sp?), soccer and winning at backgammon! 8) - ok I was being tutored into my winning position, but it impressed the stash adorned Turkish studs, Grrrrr!
A good 8 hours of surprisingly restful sleep, shower (only after the TV lady finished whatever the sign language of fingers between the legs means) and its off again.
Breakfast of lentil soup - YUM! and we are back on our quest for the Syrian border ... long story short, we came up against more sharks the Turkish taxi mafia who wouldnt let us leave Turkey by foot and the saviour in the form of a Syrian taxi driver and Doctor (who spoke impeccable English). We still paid way more than expected to get to Aleppo (30 British pounds for the both of us) but it was half what the mafia were charging!
The Doctor (not of the Who kind! - although he now has cult status in my book) was instrumental in getting us across the border in an impressive 30mins, leaving an American and a Russian who have hitch-hiked their ways through Turkey and through northern Iraq - they didnt look like they were going anywhere fast after the lack of Visas and Iraqi passport stamps.
Should mention here the medical checks - on passing over our passports we were whisked away for a medical check where we filled in forms and were taken one by one into a side room (without a door) - I took a detour to the most scary toilet I have ever encountered anywhere ever ever ever! Camping loos have more romance! ... and arrived back to hear the doctor instruct Jerin to drop his pants for an injection!!!!!!!!!! I stood up and was just about to protest and started gesturing to our taxi driver... at which point the doctor laughed for some time, long enough in fact for the adrenalin to subside and all we where subjected to was a temperature check (thankfully electronic by ear - after seeing those toilets I didnt want anything in my mouth from this doctor!).
After the fifth checkpoint in less than 1km we were now in Syria and on our way to Aleppo... sigh, smile, hand shaking, congratulations, copious greetings!
In Aleppo there was a short but successful search for another hotel for myself this time - Jerin is off couch surfing on his hustle tour and I opt for the 600 Syrian Pound (6 British Pound) hotel which thankfully has more character than our Giazantep and Kata hotels and a lot cleaner! Images of the border crapper subside.
Getting my bearings after a search for an ATM - Jerin's cards dont work so I sub him the money for the treck and dinner - luckily mine work, thank my atheist god I dont have Mastercard, Cirus or Maestro anymore, Visa all the way! (although they do bang you for the 2% charge). Three Kebabs - we are in Syria now, no more Kebaps! Yes they are different, one is spelt with a P and one is spelt for a B :) - two with Chicken and one with french fries (but tasted like tasty sauce and pickled peppers - try and say that fast!) and a Coke for less than 200 Syrian Pounds (2 British Pounds), so no more Europe prices, hello french fries kebabs :)
So its Aleppo for the next 2 days at least and see what happens next. Have misgivings over Lebanon after the border issues coming into Syria but once I acclimatise I may well feel different. For the time being its historical sites, souks, tea, more meat, maybe some hardcore flirting and see where fate takes me...
This is my last blog for a while as blogspot is blocked in Syria... will put the basics up on Twitter, with account info to be published in the next post.
