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a crawl past the Montenegro/Albania border
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Today was a traveling day as it would take the entire day to traverse the 150 kilometers by public transport. As previously arranged with my new French friends, I caught an early bus to Bar, to find that there are no buses to Ulcinj until 2 hours after our arranged time. So I split the cab fare with 2 other Albanians who were able to negotiate a decent price. After we dropped them off, I asked to be dropped off at the Velika Plaza 2 km further (appropriately named "Big Beach" as it is the biggest in Montenegro), the price jacked up to triple what it would be normally. Greediness must have set in as the taxi driver ruminated how to rip off an obvious tourist during the 40 minute drive. I negotiated and for double the price, I went 2 more kilometers. I didn't take this cab across the border. Yaya and Homer were there at Milena Canal waiting, uncharacteristically quiet due to the heavy vodka drinking the night before when they arrived. Milena Canal was nice with stilted wooden houses and old wooden rods supporting a large fishing net. We then walked over to the beach. I could see miles of black fine sand ahead of me, no tourist in sight. This would be completely taken over by swarms of sunbathers if this type of beach was in Santa Monica. There were also very interesting seashells and nautili on this beach. I picked them up like a 10-year-old child while the Frenchmen wrestled on the sand. Regressing in our own ways. On the way out, we were fortunate to spot a furgona to Skodhra, Albania. Furgonas are the main ways of public transport around Albania, little 1970's minibuses with 3 rows of old seats and the ability to pack 15 people at one time (two sit on little stools in the trunk section). This was also our first taste of Albanian roads, like a wooden roller coaster ride at Knott's but 3 times bumpier and more exciting. And since I'm not a roller coaster person, also 3 times more nauseating. I mustered all my abilities to sleep and was there before I knew it, sacrificing the gorgeous Lake Skadar view from the Albanian side and little villages. Got ripped off with a 10 euro border entry fee when I learned from James the Aussie later that it was supposed to be one euro. No visa needed though (gotta love USA).Then we caught the last bus to Tirana, Albania.
On the bus ride, we were surrounded by a group of students coming home from a Skodhra university. They conversed to us in Spanish, Italian, and little English. Their Italian came from the days of Communism when they surreptiously rewired their TVs to receive Italian TV broadcasts. They taught us some Albanian and laughed at our tries. The Albanian language is unlike any other language I have heard. It is in its very own linguistic branch (Indo-European) and derived from the ancient Illyrian language from 2nd millennium B.C. I am not sure why it's considered an Indo-European language when it does not sound anything like Indonesian or any other European language. Anyway, I would spend the rest of my days in Albania learning Albanian (didn't want to be taken off-guard like in Trebinje, Bosnia). Then trying to unlearn it in Macedonia where they are not the biggest fans of Albanian. Confusing. For example, the Albanian for no is "yo" (written as "jo") and yes is "po". So I was a po' yo-yo the way I communicated. Another habit is that Albanians nod their head to say no and shake to indicate yes. Utterly confusing.
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