Well, there goes another summer!  Mostly, this has been the year that wasn’t.  Somehow, Alfred and I were never able to get more than a few meters away from our own front door, which is of course frustrating for US – although the reason we couldn’t get away was because of having more-than-ever-before guests, more of whom than ever seemed to be really HAPPY.  Well, we’re glad YOU were enjoying yourselves!  (Sincerely!)

Of course, the high point of doing this is the friends we make – probably there should have been more of you – so many times when I’m frazzled and racing and just trying to make it through breakfast, through check in, through lunch, through dinner, through though the laundry, through making sure Alfred has at least ONE clean sock (thus being able to hop?) . . . . it becomes too easy to brush past guests, as if you were all just so many transitory lawn ornaments — and then someone claims a moment of attention (DAMN them!) and someone amazing is revealed.  Usually someone who gives us something — whether that something is a moment of insight, an invaluable suggestion (oh you woman who suggested the dry erase, taxi board!  What debt we owe you!  Who WERE you?), a belly-laugh — or the friends of this summer who have already contributed so much:  Helen & Lucy who gave their ipad to the kids of Valbona, thus allowing for the recording of precious oral histories (and the making of numerous photos in which everyone in Valbona comes out looking like Shrek), Elisa and Paul who have already revolutionized map-making in Valbona, the bicycle tourists who filled the school’s library with the most creative and random-ever assortment of excess baggage, Anna from Poland who brought printed proof that Valbona is a fairy tale land, Chris and Olivia from Prespa, Amanda and Megan who-will-be-back, and Bonnie Scott who has a lot to answer for every time I say “Bonnie SAYS . . . .”  For tomato plants (despite our black thumbs) and the Great North West Passage to Jezerces Lakes we have to thank Nicole.  To Karin and the whole gang from Prishtina we owe a huge thanks for being exactly the guests who turn our little hotel into the ongoing weekend home we want it to be.  AND you-who-are-not-named-here.  You know who you are, I and I hope you know how much we enjoyed you!

The big challenge – not really met very well (which explains why I am cooking at the moment) – was staffing.  Mostly we failed, and mostly Alfred and I did it, and mostly this is really not good enough, but if there was a bright sparkle in the summer it was the international volunteers we hosted (and took outrageous advantage of?).  Kean Li, you know who you are – and it’s delight for the rest of us to try to get a handle on it.  NO ONE has ever made Alfred laugh MORE.  Not even me, which is pretty nice of me, IF you ask me, not to resent.  But how could I?  Solene & Gaby who did so much (where did you go?!).  And the couple with us now, Wendy Bird and Johan, who despite the fact that they are definitely leaving on Wednesday, will remain in our hearts – and I hope (soon) in your video streams.

Through it all, several good lessons emerged.  One is that we DEFINITELY NEED MORE FOREIGN VOLUNTEERS.  If that’s potentially YOU, please do contact us.  Not only do foreigners frankly understand better the concept of ‘service,’ they provide an invaluable teaching example to local people – much more effective and practical than any number of (stupid) training seminars sponsored by ultimately self-serving aid NGOS in which someone talks AT a room full of people who barely understand them.  We will do whatever we can within our limited resources (don’t forget it’s only for the last two years that even Alfred and I have managed to keep a room for ourselves) to make your time here as pleasant as possible.  Another interesting lesson is finding a graceful way to be fairly paid for the services we provide (with our LIFESBLOOD, dammit – or at any rate with as much energy as is humanly possible).  We emerged from the summer finding ourselves genuinely resenting tour agencies.  As “Bonnie Says”:  “Of course no one enjoys being taken advantage of, but if you ARE being taken advantage of, it’s probably because you’re creating the opportunity.”  Next year we should definitely try to be more direct about selling what we do do straight to customers.  Why are Certain Tour Agencies making a lot of money off of helping YOU walk on trails WE marked, while demanding discounts and freebees from us which make it barely worth staying open at all?  Clearly we need to do a better job of selling direct – your advice and suggestions of how to improve are warmly invited!

The summer did include at least one Notable Victory.  As some of you may know, Valbona has been a National Park on paper for 20 years.  But it’s never had a budget, staff, a management plan, zoning or Any Kind of Realistic . . . Reality.  About 2 years ago, Alfred and I started spending a certain amount of time every year, usually in Spring, banging on various international, NGO and Ministry doors, asking “What does this ‘National Park’ really MEAN?”  The most important thing we learned was that there was an EU-funded project underway to finally draft a Management Plan for the park, which went under the name of SELEA.  However, we were politely put off, in a variety of entertaining ways, from every having any involvement in the project (this, despite the EU requirement of local stakeholder involvement).  Thanks to the MOST AMAZING EVER EU consultant, Sissi (if that isn’t the best name ever . . . .well, it just IS), we HAVE been involved in a secondary project which is — hold on to your Hats! — the drafting of an even BIGGER Management Plan, for an Even Bigger National Park:  The Albanian National Park of the Alps, which will not  only combine the 3 existing protected areas of Theth, Valbona and Gashi, but . . . are you ready? . . . TRIPLE their area to a whopping 30,000 hectares of protected land.  Thanks to Sissi not only were we notified about the July inceptory meeting for the project, BUT we attended, and Not Only Us, but a bunch of other Local Stakeholders from Valbona (to everyone’s amazement) attended, AND it just so happens that this meeting included a Presentation of the SELEA project’s Management Plan for Valbona National Park, which not surprisingly was completely stupid, since it was drafted in two weeks by people who never left Tirana, and the MOST AMAZING part of the story is:  That because we were there and had a fit, we were invited to submit ‘comments’ on the draft.  And despite the fact that we only had 3 days to read 200 pages of draft Plan, it was so stupid that commenting on a total of 15 pages (including the draft zoning plan, which would have divested several hundred people of their land) was enough to cause the Albanian Ministry of the Environment to . . . . (are you ready?) REJECT THE PLAN.  I’m not sure you can imagine what a huge triumph and affirmation this was for local people, who are more used for about 2,000 years of history to the idea of benefitting only from neglect (“We cannot expect mercy, but we can hope for neglect,” in the words of Shangri-La).  In November begins the aggressive planning of the New Park’s Management Plan, which thanks to Sissi should include massive local involvement – and thus the Best Possible National Park for everyone involved.  That IS one nice thing to have achieved this year.

I guess that’s probably enough from me, for now.  The days are getting colder, and the leaves are beginning to golden.  Another summer passes in Valbona, and a long winter should begin, we hope.  ‘Hope’ because this is our time free, for planning, dreaming and solidifying . . . . Please do be in touch.  My godson took the “Facebook” button off this website during the time (years) that I was busy sneering at facebook, but over the last year I decided to stop being such an elitist pig and accept that this is how most Albanians use the internet, (“Bonnie Says” most Albanians confuse ‘Facebook’ with ‘the internet’ and think having a facebook page is the same thing as having a website), so the point IS that we do have a facebook page which you are welcome to follow:  Search Journey to Valbona.  Or just be in touch, however.

All the Best, to you and yours,

Sincerely,

Catherine

For those of you asking if there is still snow, here is a picture I took out the window yesterday morning.  Spring!!!  There is still snow hovering up around 1800m on South-facing slopes, and it’s still difficult to find the path to the pass to get to Theth, but it’s beautiful down here, and there are still 200km of hiking trails on this side of the pass!

Also good to know is that this: http://www.meoweather.com/ is the site we use to predict whether it will be raining or not.  It’s generally accurate for at least 3 days.  Search “Valbona, Kukes, Albania.”

Hope to see you soon!

Hello again!  We were recently contacted by Shije (“Taste”) magazine, a very nice and elegant Albanian culinary magazine and asked to write a contribution for an upcoming article on restaurants in Valbona.  It’s on the stands now and really beautiful!  However, since the very kindly didn’t print the (funny) part of the article, I thought I’d give you the full text and here it is:

My Friend Admira and Me – Masters of the New Malesori Kitchen

The restaurant is warm, the wood stove throws out a beautiful red glow. Twenty-two people fill the tables, with 2 perched on the flokati-covered sofa, the table at the level of their chins, like extra children at a holiday meal. It’s an Italian & Albanian film crew who have been working round the clock and eating every rushed meal at the other end of the valley for 21 days. Tonight is a special occasion, so they’ve come to us. They lift spoons to mouth, taste, and I hear them exclaiming “Pero Buonissimo!” “Merkulli!” The conversation swells and roars a little, as it does when happy people are eating.

What’s on the menu? A thick vegetable soup, normal fare here, but with a twist – it’s thickened with two big “pehars” (spoons) of pureed white beans – also traditional but not usually combined, which makes our own Valbona version of Minestrone. Followed by 2 Salads – one is based on common ingredients – Kastravec, Qep and Djath i Bardh (cucumbers, onions and white or ‘feta’ cheese), but it’s blasted from bland with the addition of dill and balsamic vinegar. The other salad is hopelessly American – picnic food – but delicious: carrots, apples, raisins, with a majonaise-vinegar dressing. Well at least all the ingredients are traditional. The table is filled out with homemade Ngjyem (from Alfred’s Mother) (well, from her cows), white cheese (fancied up with herbs and olive oil from Kruja), Laknor – a thin and crispy treat, with just enough cornbread to stick together the carmelized onions and rich orange pumpkin we ‘skutched’ (or fried) together. Now for the Mish Qingji (pronounced ‘KIN-gee’ of course – no southern Albanian nonsense here!) roasted slowly in the oven and finished with the Saq in the Oxhak (a big iron sort of lid, heated in the embers of the kitchen’s enormous fireplace). Admira and I dance around each other. We’ve been doing this for years now, and we have a rhythm and our own private communication. Our French volunteers ask me something with their out-RAGE-ous French accents, and I turn to Admira and repeat it, in English. Without a blink, she answers me in Shqip, and I translate her answer to the French. We understand each other so well. Now on to the Maze i Zier – literally “boiled cream” but more often a super rich cheesie polenta. Ours has a secret ingredient which you will never never guess. And I’m not going to tell (Admira would kill me!). But Maze connoisseurs from all over Albania tell us that ours is The Best. At last the meal is over, with a Red Velvet Cake – this is also American – a rich chocolate cake died to a bloody red, frosted with an innocent white icing. Red Food Color & Chocolate – it’s Kuq e Zi – I suspect no one is even aware of our culinary humor, but what the heck, at least it amuses us!

Flash backwards 4 years. Alfred and a distant relation are sitting at a small table, alone. The restaurant is empty. It’s almost winter and the nights are long and dark. I have not yet met Admira, and I am alone in the kitchen. Everything is unfamiliar to me. The tools, the ingredients, the dishes. I have eaten a rich and delicious sort of cheese soup at Alfred’s mother’s house. It can’t be too hard, I think, it looks like simply cheese and butter. I find a bucket of something white in the refrigerator, and fry it up. Spooned into dishes and garnished with fried green peppers, it looks nice. I serve it to my silent victims, and retreat to the kitchen as they lift their spoons. I wait in the kitchen behind the door, ears cocked to hear the result. There’s a pause.

“She really can’t cook, can she?” says Ragip. Alfred sighs.

I have made soup out of Kos, or yoghurt. Ugh.

Cheers Admira! We’ve come a long way, baby!

on the topic of “Blissful Uncertainty”  Tirana, 3 May, 2014

 

I would like to talk to you about children.

I do not have children. I’m not a teacher. I don’t work with children. I am not myself a child, although I sometimes play one in my everyday life. When I was an actual physical child, I didn’t much like other children. I thought they were noisy, irrational, prone to cruelty, selfish and often untrustworthy. I much preferred books. Animals were great – straight forward in their communication, capable of loyalty and pure affection. Nature – even better – big, beautiful, and often empty. Quiet. Except when exhibiting some smashing temper tantrum, and then even better. I have fond memories of sitting on the roof of my house in thunderstorms as a child, when the fury of nature seemed a happy echo of the fury in my own adolescent heart. As the child says in a Christmas in Wales “I never hear bells inside me. Only thunder sometimes.”

Thus it is with some surprise that I find my adult life has been constantly invaded by children.

I am at their mercy completely. They find me, colonize me. They stage friendly takeovers of my life. I find myself sticking up for them, against my will. They befriend me, the little tyrants, and appoint themselves my teachers, guardians, champions and owners. I am apparently helpless to resist them. They just turn up and even when I turn cranky and rage at them they simply retreat to a safe distance and wait. I can feel them waiting, and inevitably I give in, and then they come rushing back to boss me around some more. They are like a river I swim hopelessly against. A priestly friend once told me: They like your emotional honesty.

Nice Rhetoric, but what am I actually talking about?

Well, for example. There was a boy in New York who colonized my bookstore. Things were clearly unsettled in his home, to put it mildly. I used to work late, and he would show up later. Eleven o’clock, 12 o’clock. One o’clock in the morning, the rat-a-tat-tat would come on the door and I’d look up to see his pale face peering in. What could I do? I opened the door and let him in. I wondered of course where his parents were. Wondered why there seemed to be no check on his nocturnal wanderings. It didn’t seem right to me, but still, if wander he would, better he wander to a warm if dusty bookstore, an available if oddly solitary bookseller.

He seemed to me to be strangely obsessed with justice for a 13 year old. He was constantly making up laws, chewing over politics. This was the time of one of the Bush wars and military conscription was being mulled over. Many nice New York liberals were actually pushed so far that there was a strange mini-mass migration to Canada. The boy told me one night that if the draft was instituted he would refuse to fight. He would not flee, would not dodge, but would stay and even go to jail, he said, holding his tiny 13-year-old body upright, stiff with conviction.

I’ve probably read too many books. It makes me a sucker for gestures, for the bon mot at the right time, for the epiphany. It was clearly the right thing to say, so I said it: “If anyone ever locks you up,” I said, “I will come and get you out.” His eyes locked on mine. A question. A sort of fearful blossoming. It wasn’t enough. He looked at me. A question. “If I have to knock down walls, I will get you out,” I said. And we sat, in an oddly calm moment, and looked at each other. Without any other words said, I knew I’d made a promise.

This is absolutely and certainly why some weeks or months later, when the crisis came in the family, which of course it did, and the boy showed up shivering, on the edge of tears, in shock really, and I saw that he wasn’t going home again – not that night – that I remembered my promise and called his parents (I knew them vaguely). “He seems upset,” I said (with his permission). “We’re ALL upset” said his mother. Yes, well. “Would it help if he came and stayed with me tonight?” I expected the polite, slightly appalled negative. I expected to be snubbed, and if truth be told, I probably hoped for it. But still. A promise is a promise.

“Okay,” said his mother. I bought him a toothbrush on the way home. He stayed for almost 3 years. It was a very small apartment.

This is probably the most extreme example of the invasion of my life by youth. But it certainly isn’t the only one.

Now I live in Valbona, in a small, remote, almost medieval village in Tropoja, Northern Albania. Space here is defined by families. There isn’t much of what in America we would call “public space.” Within the houses of a given family almost no space is private. Everything is public. And yet between families a decorous distance is kept, mediated by elaborately defined rites of visiting. Children are precious here, partially because people are of a necessity less mercenary – there isn’t much to be mercenary with – so more attention is focussed inwards, onto family. And in some ways more mercenary, in the sense that children are what would elsewhere be called ‘a retirement plan.’ They are necessary. Precious. An investment of the most tender kind. At any rate, whether it’s a case of practical geography or conscious policy, children are kept close to home here. Unless they’re in the mountains, herding goats, they aren’t encouraged to wander around.

You’d think I’d be safe.

But NO.

The Invasion has taken place on two fronts, independently, if coincidentally simultaneously launched. I am alas accountable for both.

The first is the fault of camera trapping. The excellent Albanian Environmental NGO PPNEA has trusted me for 4 years now with wildlife cameras. These cameras are automatic, triggered by a combination of warmth and movement – so if in other words, if you tie a camera to a tree with a supply of reasonably strong batteries, you will catch pictures of bears, wolves, chamois, boars and “lesser” creatures (including us from the knees down) as we all go about our daily business. I put a camera on Maja e Gjarperit, near the Livadhet or meadows there. Over six months or so this camera unfortunately caught mostly cows (149 in one blockbuster month) and people, and one very curious, blond-haired boy. I have pictures of him walking past. Pictures of him doubling back, pictures of him peering into the camera with his head tilted one way, and yet more pictures of him with his head tilted the other. I never ran into the boy, while the camera was up, but after a while it became clear that he was checking on it. It looked as if he had a certain proprietary interest.

After a while, I decided to give up on this camera and so walked up one spring day to take it down. I half expected the blond-haired boy to pop out from behind a tree, but he didn’t. Alone, I felt uncomfortable as I worked, and after a bit I recognized the uncomfortable feeling as guilt. The boy had clearly taken an interest in the camera. Perhaps he’d come to look on it as “his.” It was on his path. In a way I and my camera had been his guests. How would he feel when he arrived the next time to visit the camera and found it vanished? How would I feel in his place? I imagined feeling surprised, disappointed, hurt and then angry. I took a minute. Yes, guilty. That was the feeling. I felt like a thief. Like a bad guest. I sat down, in the middle of the woods, and wrote him a note: “Boy!” I said “I have taken down the camera. Please feel free to visit me and see the pictures. This is my address _____ and this is my phone number _______. Thank you for looking after the camera. Sincerely, etc.” I pinned the note to the tree, in place of the camera. Of course, I didn’t really think he’d visit me.

Of course he did.

And that is how I gained my first Albanian child invader. But an invitation is a promise. And a promise is a promise. Now he is my best friend. We go in the mountains often. He maintains his own camera traps. We’ve marked trails and made signs, and just a few weeks or months ago I ate dinner with his family on his birthday, which my own Albanian family thought was distinctly odd.

He calls me six times a day on average. “WHAT?” I answer the phone “WHAT DO YOU WANT? I’M BUSY!” (that emotional honesty). “Oh,” he says, “I forgot why I called.” He says “Don’t worry – I’ll call you back.” and hangs up cheerfully.

The next front of the Albanian children’s invasion of my very own personal and private life was more orthodox in origin – but the extent to which it’s gotten out of hand is certainly my own fault. I was asked by the YEM program to teach English at the local school for one hour a day for several months.

She should have known better, you’ll be saying to yourselves, and of course I did and of course I went anyways.

At first – of course – it was much as you might expect. I was nervous, they were distrustful and suspicious. Some were suspiciously enthusiastic, if completely indisposed to actually studying, as if they could learn English by osmosis. Which, come to think of it, they probably could. But it was all fairly painful. We limped along for several months, until one day in class the naughty boys seemed especially restless, clustered and crammed around a single tiny desk. As I turned to write on the (tiny, faded) blackboard, I caught the blossom of an artificially bright flash of light on their desktop. A crackling, cracking sound. A puff of smoke. A smell.

I am human. I had a moment of wondering if I should ignore it. If I could get away with ignoring it. I heard sniggers.

I turned back.

“What’s that?” I asked brightly.

The boys nudged each other. The more sophisticated ones had a slightly hostile impassive look. The less sophisticated giggled.

“Come on,” I said again, smiling, “What is it?”

The cockiest child was somehow shoved forward without anyone moving. “Dinamit” he half whispered, leering.

They didn’t really respect me, or they never would have said. And even I could see it wasn’t dynamite, but just a firecracker, split open, its powder poured on the desktop and lit. Grab it or lose it now, I thought. Also thinking: Dynamite – that’s not supposed to be hard to make – what is it? Salt Petre, something . . . nitrogen? Didn’t they make dynamite from seaweed in Mysterious Island? Is that what they’re interested in then? Could I teach them that? In English?

I said the only thing that was really possible, which even you will acknowledge, if you think about it. I said:

Do you have more?

So we lit the firecrackers and threw them in the corner of the classroom and there was a great explosion and the girls were shrieking and running around and even I shrieked a little for fun and the boys were grinning even if they did get a little singed. And later one of the other, proper teachers said to me, with great kindness and concern, “Your class seems a little . . . . noisy?”

And the children huddled behind me and I said “Well, you now, it’s a language class – we’re – um – talking.” I smiled apologetically. “It can probably get noisy.”

And after that they were as good as gold. Not surprising, really – half of them probably expect to be blown up in class.

But it’s gone on from there.

“I think you need a library,” I said to them one day. “You know – books – sofas. Plants. Reading Lamps.” I have, it must be said, a hopelessly 19^th century taste. I heard the girls nudging each other. “Sofas,” she says! “Is she crazy?” “It’s Virginia Woolf,” I said to them “Your body needs to be comfortable, so your mind can be free.”

“Aiiiiii,” said Alfred, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. “Don’t say these things to them – they’ll expect it.” And he was right of course. I’m not sure if planting an idea in someone’s head is exactly a promise, but I suspect it is, and certainly every time I saw them they said “When will we work on the library? Will we work on it today?”

A promise – even the idea of a promise – is still a promise.

And it isn’t so hard to make a library, when you start from nothing. Ten euros slipped to me by a tourist bought wood, which turned into shelves. Other monies bought paint. The children filled the cracks in the walls of an enormous empty classroom, and – a little lopsidedly – turned the walls a warm and dreamy yellow. A tremendous and unlooked for gift from a charity in Switzerland filled the shelves with books and bought beautiful tables and chairs – quality furniture, and science kits. The day the books arrived my friend Rea and I said to them “You should really know more about tourism. There’s wonderful tourism in Albania . . . Berat!” (I’d just been there.)

“Aiiiiii” said Alfred, and he was right.

“When are we going to Berat?” they asked me in a dozen tiny voices, beginning to be convinced that they could do anything.

“Well you know,” I said, “I’m sure we could. We just write a proposal and perhaps next year . . . “

“NEXT year?” a dozen little voices shrieked. “How about May? May is good!“

This was in April, mind you.

“Look,” I said – “I don’t think it’s possible,” I said.

COME ON, they said. “Can’t you write a proposal?” said the littlest one.

“Certainly Not,” I said. “I’ve been to Berat. You want to go to Berat? You write the proposal.”

They looked fierce, and a little crestfallen.

“Okay fine,” I said. “I’ll tell you how to write the proposal, but you write it.”

And do you know what? They went.

Not in May, but in June.

From there it’s mushroomed all out of proportion. If I’m not taking one group of children somewhere I’m taking another.

What did I start by telling you? They’re merciless. What I didn’t tell you is this: I love them. I am so grateful for the invasion. I love their hope, their seriousness, their silliness and their beauty. I love their trust. They make me a better and a happier person than I would otherwise be. They call me on my promises. And remaining accountable to all the children I’ve known is the thing which gives me Besa, which makes me feel like an honourable person, a person of worth. Thank you, children. I hope I’ve always thanked you. More probably I’ve roared at you. Well, I thank you now, and will hope to thank you again later.

The subject today is Uncertainty. My talk has so far been about children, and it has been about promises. My point is probably this: Make promises. A promise would seem to be the opposite of uncertainty since it offers assurance, security. But we make promises without understanding them. The important thing about a promise is not how or why it is made, or what was intended at the time of its making. We cannot know when our promises will be called in. Or how. Or even what we will have to do to keep them. But the important thing about a promise is how it’s kept.

The Important thing about a promise is how it’s kept.

The Important Thing about a promise is How It’s Kept.

 

Please note:  This was truly one of the most exciting brain days I’ve had in years.  I urge you to find out more and support TEDx Tirana.  The organizers, led by Iris Xholi,  are all volunteers doing an amazing job.  I was so moved that I’ve promised to volunteer next year.  Gotta be some envelopes that need licking or something. Bravo!  

Okay – over the years I’ve spent a lot of time grousing about things I think are done badly (what a crank!).  Now I finally get to Whole-Heartedly support something!  Last summer, in some sultry, stormy, silent days, a trio of travellers showed up (to beat alliteration half to death!).  They were Tim Clancy, Kenan Muftic and Elma Okic who found us and to our great good fortune included us in their maiden tour of the Dinaric Alps, scouting for their project: Via Dinarica.  Via Dinarica is at its heart a website promoting a system of trails from Croatia to Albania, but with a difference from the (stupid ol’) Peaks of the Balkans.  This is a grassroots, bottom-up vision – their goal is to link up all the little people along the way who are working hard to look after their corner of these gorgeous mountains – they provide a grand unified platform for all of us to be heard.  As they write: Via Dinarica is a platform that serves to promote and develop the local communities and small businesses active on local, national, and international level in the field of hospitality, service and tourism, as well as agriculture and cultural heritage. Its purpose is to connect the countries and communities of Dinaric Alps by creating a unique and diversified tourist offer.  

What does that mean for you?  It means you finally get a portal to these mountains based on the people working here – not some outsider’s vision of what you should see.  If you look at the website, you will see an exciting world, now open to you!  It looks very polished.  But let me give you a little background gossip and scuttlebutt.  The three of them arrived here excited and brimming with goodwill.  They also explained how it was their vision, which they’d managed to get funded, but which – as is my oft targeted bete noire – had turned into a sort of happy (go lucky?) Bataan Death March-by-choice.  Funding had been held up, leaving them with something like 90 days to walk some 100s of km of trails, mapping, photographing, contacting people, building networks, gathering good will and getting people involved.  This is insane. Kenan and Elma were walking the actual trail (come on – just LOOK at their website – it’s CRAZY!).  Tim was racing around doing support work.  And none of that addresses in any way how much work it is to build a good website which shows in a thoughtful way every nuance of every place along every one of those 100s of kilometers of trail.  Why on earth would ANYONE take that on?  Simple answer of course.  Because they really believe in this project.  Giving a voice to all the little people struggling to do something good.

Well.  I’m delighted to see some Very Good News.  Via Dinarica has  been named Outside Magazine’s “Best New Trail” of 2014.  That’s out of the WHOLE WORLD, mind you!  CONGRATULATIONS Tim, Kenan and Elma.  You absolutely deserve it.  I notice that the article is written by Tim Neville, who I blasted in This Very Journal little less than a year ago.  So congratulations Tim, too – ye’ve redeemed yerself lad!

And now over to you.  I hope you will find the website useful.  There’s a lot of work yet to be done on it (Journey To Valbona appeared on their homepage a while ago, but mysteriously disappeared in some – clearly ill-thought-out edit – we assume that’s just a glitch :).  They’ve been working for months now POST-project-end (and aka – unpaid!) and are still trying to make it better.  We lend them our full support!  I hope you will too.

In all seriousness, I do believe it’s shaping up to be the best resource on the whole area.  Please give them your support.

Here’s a nice picture to finish – that’s one of my favorite nephews, Ermal, standing next to some of our trail signs – which GIZ told us we should stop making.  Thanks for the support, Via D.  Makes all of our work feel appreciated!

My Dear Friend and Fairy Godson – if there can be fairy godmothers, why not fairy godsons?  Or maybe more like Elven God-nephew?  At any rate, my Dear Friend Joey Perr from good ol’ Brooklyn NYC came to visit for a week over Christmas (re-named by us “Merrimas”), taking a break from his current job, teaching English in Bilbao (Spain!).  On his return he gave a little talk – in English I suppose – to the students there, and they all took notes of what he said.  He sent me a couple of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This one is my favorite, although it’s a close run with the one that said Joey was nervous, as our car “fell by a cliff.”  Funny – I don’t remember that part!  Anyhow: Bunnies for Heating!  How did I never think of that?  An inexhaustible fuel source!

Well, it’s that time of the year again.  The season of indoors does make one tempted to tackle crazy projects . . . . So I’ve painted half the inside of Rilindja white.  Of course, there’s no white (aka: snow) outside which makes me wonder what it will look like when there is . . . Just empty window frames, floating in space?  Witih odd decorations hanging in midair?  Stay tuned . . . .

Hello! Kind of a long story (which I’ll try to fill in later), but the Students of Valbona School are trying to to organize a study trip – 3 days, 2 nights – to visit Berat.  They want to see functioning tourism, to get ideas and experience.  I told them I’d help, but they’d have to do the work themselves, and so they’ve come up with the following “Kerkese.”  It’s kind of AMAZING.  They had to use my computer themselves and everything (“Ketrina:  How do you make the letters big?”).  They made budgets, timetables, the map . . . . and they’ve learned to organize themselves to get a job done, too.  They have commitments from donors to pay for Accommodation and Transport, but STILL need another 900 euros to pay for food.  It’s a little pricey, but of course the point is to show them excellent Albanian tourism in action, so they’re going to some of the best restaurants in Albania (Mrizi i Zaneve, Bujtina e Gjelit and Hotel Mangallemi), NOT Fast Food.  If you know anyone who might be interested in donating, please pass it on . . . ?  THANK YOU!  (Well, anyone who speaks Albanian!) (<- Nevermind that, Here it is in ENGLISH)

UPDATE (29 May 2013):  Much as I expected (and promised the students!), offers of help have not been slow to come!  Therefore, we’ve opened bank accounts for the Student Organization in 4 currencies.  Valbona School Bank Transfer Details are:

Raiffeisen Bank SHA

Rr. Kavajes, Nr. 44
Tirana, Albania
Tel: 355 4 2381 381
Fax: 355 4 2275 599

Account Name: Skender Selimaj (Emin)

Customer Number: 767582

SWIFT: SGSBALTX

to send Lek: IBAN AL23 2025 7008 0000 0000 0076 7582
to send Euros: IBAN AL20 2025 7008 0000 0000 0276 7582
to send Dollars: IBAN AL67 2025 7008 0000 0000 0376 7582
to send GBP: IBAN AL17 2025 7008 0000 0000 0476 7582

Thanks to Skender Selimaj for opening a bank accounts dedicated to the Student Organization. These accounts are for use only by the Student Organization, and no other funds will be deposited or withdrawn from them.

 

Here’s the whole original text of what they wrote (but easier, if you download the link above “Kerkese”):

 

 

KERKËS PËR FONDËT

Për të Vizituar Turizmin në Berat

për

15 Nxenësit nga Shkolla 9 Vjeçare, Valbonë

Paraqitje

Ne jemi nxenesit e shkolles “Mushak Haxhia” Valbon. Ne po shkruajm kete kerkes sepse kemi nevoj per ndihme financiare per te bere nje udhetim qe eshte shume i rendesishem per ne.

Turizmi ka filluar per tu zhvilluar ne Valbone. Pese vitet e fundit turizmi ka patur nje rritje prej 30% çdo vit. Popullsia e Valbones eshte perafersisht 230 banore dhe e vetmja mundesi per punesim eshte industria e turizmit. Eshte shume e rendesishme per te ardhmen tone per ekonomine e fshatit dhe mbrojtjen e Lugines se Valbones.

Ne kemi energji dhe deshir, por kemi nevoj per ide dhe eksperienca te reja. Ideja jone eshte per te bere nje udhetim 3 ditor dhe 2 net per te pare maksimumin e vendeve turistike ne shqiperi. Ne jemi te fokusuar te Berati sepse kemi degjuar ne televizor dhe kemi lexuar qe Berati eshte nje nga qytetet me te vizituara ne Shqiperi dhe Europe. Me ndihmen e nje agjensie ne Tirane kemi bere nje program oraret per udhetimin. Ju lutem lexoni orarin tone qe eshte i bashkangjitur. Ne gjith keto vende ne shpresojm qe te shofim sa me shume si zhvillohet turizmi. Shpresojm per te pare shembuj per turizmin kulturor, etnografik, agroturizmin, per bisnesin hotel-restorantve, dyqaneve turistike si dhe aktiviteteve te tjera turistike, gjithashtu sherbimeve si guid, kamarier dhe te gjitha gjerave te tjera qe ne nuk kemi mundesi per te pare ne Valbon. Shpresojm qe kur te ktehemi do te jemi plot me ide te reja.

Ne deshirojm dhe shpresojm qe ju te keni deshir qe te na ndihmoni. Per ndihme specifike ju lutem shikoni buxhetin e bashkangjitur.

Shume Faleminderit.

Orarit

Dita e Pare:

4h30 Takim te Shkolla

4h45 Nisemi me fugon deri Fierze

6h00 Nisje me Anije

9h00 Mberritje ne Koman dhe Nisje ne Shkoder

10h00 Mberritje ne Shkoder dhe vizita:

• Kalaja e Rozafes

• Qender e Qytetit

• Muzeu Marubi

12h00 Nisje per Blinisht

12h30 Dreke te Mrizi i Zaneve, Blinisht

13h30 Mberritje ne Kruje

• Kalaja e Skenderbeut, Muzeu I Skenderbeut, Muzeu Etnografik dhe Pazari i Vjeter

14h30 Nisje per Durres

15h30 Mberetritje dhe Vizit ne Qendren e Qytetit, Amfiteaterin Romak, dhe Shetitorin pergjate Bregut

17h00 Nisje per Berat

18h30 Mberritje ne Berat dhe Akomodim ne Hotel

20h00 Darke te “Grill” Berati

Dita e Dyte:

8h00 Mengjesi

9h00 Nisemi per te Kalaja

• Muzeu Onufri

• Vizit e Kalase

• Tentative: Vizit ne Shkollen 9 Vjecare te Berat

12h00 Dreke te Hotel Mangellemi dhe Vizite per te pare Biznesi

13h00 Vizit ne Qender Mesitare

13h30 Vizite e shkurter ne Xhamine e Beqarit dhe Ecje ne Lagjen Mangellem

14h30 Vizite e Ures se Gurices dhe Lagjes se Gurices

15h30 Vizite ne Hotel ne Gurices

16h00 Pushim ne Restorantin e Hotelit

17h00 Koha e Lire

18h00 Kthim ne Hotel

19h30 Darke

Dita e Trete:

8h00 Mengjesi

9h00 Nisje tek Kantina Çobo

9h45 Nisje per ne Manastirin e Ardenitces

11h00 Vizit e Manastirit

12h00 Nisje per ne Tirane

14h00 Mberritje ne Tirane dhe Dreke te Bujtina e Gjelit

15h00 Ecje ne Bulevardin Deshmoret e Kombit duke bere ndalesa prane ndertesave shtetrore (Ministrite, Kryministria, Kuvendi, Presidenca, Pallati Kongresave, Universiteti i Tiranes, Akademia e Arteve, Stadiumi Kombetare)

• Vizite ne Sheshin Skenderbej, Xhamia e Et’hem Begut, Kulla e Sahatit, Pallati I Kultures, Hotel Tirana dhe vizit ne Museun Historik Kombetare

16h00 Nisje per ne Valbone pergjate rruges se kombit me nje ndalese per darke ne Gjakove prane Pazarit te Vjeter – Kulla e Koshit

23h00 Mberritje ne Valbone

Buxheti

Transport:

Furgon deri Fierze 5,000

Anija deri Koman 11,200

Furgon per 3 Dit 75,000

Totali per Transport: 91,200

Akomodim:

2 Net te Berati 2,100 per person per net, 20 njerz = 84,000

Totali per Akomodim: 84,000

Ushqim:

Dreke te Mrizi i Zaneve 1,000 per person, 20 njerz = 20,000

Darke ne Berati 1,120 per person, 20 njerz = 22,400

Dreke te Hotel Mangallemi 1,000 per person, 20 njerz = 20,000

Darke ne Berati 1,120 per person, 20 njerz = 22,400

Dreke ne Tirane 1,000 per person, 20 njerz = 20,000

Darke ne Gjakove 1,000 per person, 20 njerz = 20,000

Totali per Ushqim: 124,800

Hyrje ne Muze:

Ne Shkoder 200 per person, 20 njerz = 4,000

Ne Kruje 500 per person, 20 njerz = 10,000

Ne Berat 300 per person, 20 njerz = 6,000

Ne Tirane 200 per person, 20 njerz = 4,000

Totali per Hyrje: 24,000

TOTALI PER UDHETIM: 324,000 Lek (16,200 lek per Nxenxe)