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Balkan Beginnings

June, 2015
Albania

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I wrote a very silly poem (the only kind of which I am capable) about my first impressions of the country’s capitol: combining two of my favourite things: travel and neologistic collective nouns.

Tirana:

In a confusion of collective nouns

 

 

The Marrakech of Eastern Europe

with its clattering of cafés

on every street

patronised, each and every, by

idles of old men

collusions of couples and

intrigues of lady friends

despite it being a working day.

An entropy of motorists

in Skanderbeg Place

play chicken with

a boldness of pedestrians

(huddles or muddles in wintertime)

and on Hoxha Thasim alone is

a bobbing of fruit stands

a swish of shops: mostly second-hand

and surprisingly, to the poetess at any rate

an onomatopoeia of pet shops.

Poor pups pant in their cages

As people sweat out their time

pleasantly ignoring the

haunting of pill box bunkers,

(steel casings with a urine-reek)

sitting in cafés with names like

Dublin

Oslo

New York

Havana

collectively pretending

they are anywhere

but Tirana

Obviously it did not include my trip up to the mountain in a cable car, my appreciation for Albania writer Ismail Kadare and his talented translator, (both seen here)
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nor my trip to the old town of Kruje, its castle, craft merchants and that jerk who followed me around, pretending to be a tour guide half the time and asking to see my breast the rest, who, after I couldn’t take the harassment (he called them compliments) I turned around to go back to the modern town, cutting my trip short. I won’t lie, it mostly ruined my day. I went to a café and tried to write, but wasn’t managing much so I decided to write my frustrations and call it a blog. Which brings me to poor traveller guilt. The only benefit tourists bring is money. A poor tourist (me) who buys no souvenirs from craftspeople who obviously need to make a living is worse than useless. Do we, as tourists, invaders and consumers of cultures, have an obligation to spend money on these things? Is it my duty as a tourist? I feel yes, but my pocketbook says no.

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“Thanks, I’m privileged enough to travel here but not enough to purchase any of your lovely things, sorry.”

When they say tourism helps local economies, they don’t mean my kind of shoestring tourism- making a 50 cent pack of soup last 2 days. I don’t think my splurging once a day on 100 leke tea really helps the economy.

Note: the barman, speaking in German (our only shared tongue) just said I look like a writer. Thank you, barman for improving my day, even though anyone scribbling away with notebook and pen looks like a writer, but all the same, you’ve given me a positive note to end this entry.