Welcome to travels with Todd

The alarm bells on my phone sounded at 04:30 and, after a series of much needed pandiculations that I think released sufficient dopamine to ease rising in the antelucan dark, I dressed and stepped outside ready for the morning’s sunrise and birdwatching adventure. We would ride into a section of the park on a 12 passenger electric cart (Picture a golf cart on steroids.) that E had prepared with thermoses of coffee and tea, chairs and blankets, and some snacks. We set off at 05:30 from outside the hotel restaurant headed, I believe, for the spot marked “Birdwatching tower” on the Google Maps screenshot below.

I can’t assert this with any certainty because we wandered in the dark as E made a few wrong turns and backtracked more than once. Still, we reached our spot shortly before the sun began its ascent. And it was a lovely sunrise that,

because we were in a flat marshy area allowed for an interesting perspective facing west rather than east.

The sunrise was, however, the most successful part of the morning. This is always the inherent risk when natural observations are identified as a featured element in any activity – touristic or otherwise. Nature has no cooperating obligation. (Recall my trip to the Big Island last year.) As you can see, there was plenty of sunrise to watch but the birdwatching aspect was a different matter. We could hear some different birds and see some in the distance but few, if any, were identifiable or unique and there was no great flock rising from the reeds like the one I experienced as a teen on Assateague Island following a total solar eclipse.

You got me rockin’ and a rollin’, rockin’ and a reelin’ Babunjë

Okay. I went a little overboard with this carriwitchet but sometimes I have to get these sorts of things out of my system. Back at the hotel, we had a full breakfast, checked out, set off to the town of Babunjë where we’d meet a local artist, perhaps have our fortunes told and finish our visit by having a home cooked lunch.

While it wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the Neverland created by J M Barrie for Sylvia Davies as shown at the end of that film,

or even the visionary art I found at Gilgal Garden in Salt Lake City, the front of D’s house hid something behind it that bordered on magical – the artist’s project and workshop.

We had a brief tour in which D explained that, in addition to carving all of the statuary, he’d also done all of the masonry. If he ever revealed whether he sold his art or even how he earned a living, I was inattentive and missed that – probably because I was more interested in learning about the lives of his children – his daughter P and his son A. I’m in no position to judge the authenticity of all that happened with D and his wife M, but E had made it clear that they home hosted not only groups from Intrepid but other tour operators as well so I thought I would gain more insight into this family’s lives by focusing on the people who weren’t the stars of the show.

Once we sat around the table (before lunch), we were served several rounds of rakia – the fruit based brandy found throughout the Balkans that’s more commonly called raki in Albania. Like many nations in the region, Albanians consider it their national drink and, while this wasn’t our first encounter with it, it was probably the first time we were imbibing before noon. (It seems that a group lunch, or any group gathering is quafftide.)

I’d been told that nearly every Albanian family has their own recipe and distills their own raki and this was, as nearly as I could determine, this family’s recipe. The first sentence on the Wikipedia page for rakia is noteworthy:

Rakia, rakija, rakiya, or rachiu (/ˈrɑːkiə, ˈræ-, rəˈkiːə/), is the collective term for fruit spirits or fruit brandy popular in the Balkans. The alcohol content of rakia is normally 40% ABV, but home-produced rakia can be stronger (typically 50–80%).

I think we had two rounds of this more concentrated brew accompanied by the traditional toast, “Gëzuar!” Earlier I’d greeted the family with either “mirëmëngjes” which means good morning or “përshëndetje” that’s a bit more general greeting. One of the family asked me if I new any other Albanian words and I recited my typical litany tossing in an additional “Gëzuar!” Apparently, if you say it, you have to drink it so I brought upon myself a third shot of raki.

Some sort of coffee – probably kafe turke followed and this was another drink I don’t particularly like that I was obligated to drink as a good guest. And this led to more than the simple act of politely drinking that bitter concoction. I can’t state with certainty that M, D’s wife thinks she is an autothaumaturgist but she was going to read the stained coffee remnants of our cups. As an exemplar of an anti-gobemouche, I took it in as part of the show and tried to project as much earnestness as possible in my participation. (I’ll note that while I thought she made one close guess about my personality, her main prediction could not have been less accurate.)

As I mentioned, I spent much of my time chatting with D’s daughter, P, and later with her older brother A. P is a college freshman who will be majoring in a career path chosen by her father who made it clear to her that he thought her preferred major impractical and insisted that she’d adhere to his direction because he was paying the bills. D had painted a portrait of his son and when I mentioned his Dali like moustache to P,

she fetched him because he is, indeed, almost obsessed with the great surrealist.

Everyone else in the group followed D into his workshop where I think he gave them some demonstration of his pottery skills. I remained behind in conversation with P and A.

We washed our hands at the fountain that greeted visitors to D’s workshop and display before proceeding inside for lunch where there would be wine, more raki, and more food than we could possibly consume. (Apparently, Albanians have no concept of the prandicle.)

In addition to raki, boisterous conversation, and large meals, both E and D told us that singing is another Albanian meal tradition. They sang a tune or two but everyone in the group was a bit too reserved to start a song on their own.

So, I did. Twice. My first choice was Yesterday and I made it in deference to G’s jukebox full of Beatles songs. (It dawned on me later that Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da might have been a better choice because the easy to sing chorus invites group participation. In Yiddish we might call this sort of poorly timed realization trepverter.) Fortunately there is no video of me performing the world’s most covered song so you, dear reader, are spared the pain that I inflicted on the group but here’s a performance by Ray Charles.

Nonetheless, my effort was met with polite applause and a hearty, “Gëzuar!” which, of course meant more raki.

It might be that four or five glasses of raki sufficiently stimulated my sadistic side but, when no one else stepped into the singing breach, I subjected them to a second song and sang Moon River in it’s entirety. I’ll let you enjoy the one and only Audrey.

During a moment after lunch when all of the family members had left the room, E suggested we could help the family by leaving a gratuity. It struck many of us as a strange suggestion since we were reasonably certain that Intrepid would have compensated them and, we all hoped, fairly. Some left a tip. Others didn’t.

As we said our goodbyes, D presented several of us with pomegranates from a tree on his property. From there we continued our southerly journey and, although I thought our next stop would be the seaside town of Vlorë we would land about 10 kilometers south in a place called Orikum and that will be the subject of my next report. (Henceforth, as I’ve generally spelled Tiranë as Tirana for the TTS feature, I’ll spell this town Vlora.) For now, today’s pictures you haven’t yet seen are here.