Dr Albania

It was a soft and nice beginning. Memorial meal and pizza at Artut with half the family, the work crew, and friends. You don't want to miss your own memorial meal, so it’s important to be proactive.

Then I went to Rånäs to visit my cousin and their new baby, rural and wonderful in the woods by a lake. Dogs and kids and tomatoes, but no homemade apple wine, as they have plum trees.

I saw a sign for Knutby on the way there, and I could hardly think of anything else. I had no idea where it was, so being so close stirred the dark tourist within me.

Then there’s an eternity at the airport. I was going to sleep at Tirana airport until the buses started running. I found a corner of people like me who were stingy, who had made a bed with thin scarves and balanced on cold hip bones on the marble floor. So incredibly PREPARED for this, I pulled out my thick, lovely air-pumped sleeping mat and thought everyone would see me as a real prepper. But I didn’t pull out the thick, lovely air-pumped sleeping mat that I had seen so much use for on the trip. I pulled out a flying tent, a hammock with incredibly difficult ropes that I had already counted out. I had discarded the wrong small roll when I tried to slim down the bag. Not a catastrophe, of course, but try using a short backpack as a sleeping mat. I lay like a praying cricket over it, with my knees propped up on the neck pillow. It was tough to sleep.

Then I was at a bus station without either a building or service desks, just a sea of buses on a dusty prairie that smelled a bit like urine. All the men took bags and stuffed them into various compartments, pointing this way and that with a cigarette between their fingers. I love bus men.

I had the warmest bus ride of my life. Compression stockings and jeans, 33 degrees outside, 43 degrees inside. Sit straight. Think about Jesus. Feel the blood vessels boiling. Try not to even touch the aura of the guy sitting next to me.

But it was spectacular outside the window. Steep valleys, turquoise foamy water several thousand meters down, powerful mountains everywhere, in every direction. Mountain goats standing on tiptoes and sleeping in the ravines.

Finally, I got off in Himarë. The mountains are close. Dogs bark and roosters crow, bells jingle. I can't see the sea from the balcony, even though it’s close.