Girl Travels World

“What one do you like?” Mirgim asks, holding out two items. One is shiny and clean – “This one, it is 300 years old, I think, but I don’t know what pape it is.” I turn over the amult of Virgin Mary and look at the clear etching of the pope, wishing I knew my European history a little bit better.

“This one,” he says, taking out another Virgin Mary, “is more expensive, older, but small.” It is another amulet – half the size of the other one, so old and well worn you can barely make out that it is a emlem, with the greenish tint of old Roman coins. “It is a gift for you…for me, I have many others. Pick.”

It is amazing what difference a day makes.

I began my day early – around 8 – and caught a mini bus out of town to Kruje, a site of historical importance from the 1400s and home to the greatest Albanian leader, Skanderburg, whose coat of arms is still on the flag today.

Of course, this was a process in and of itself. The night before, I asked around town to find the correct bus stop, and how the hell to get out of the city. The women at the various travel agents were mostly very helpful and assured me that if I used my head, the city was perfectly fine at night.

Fortunatly, I made it to the correct area, where minibus drivers call out various cities. Unfortunately for them, the first one that barked out at me felt he had to take responsibility for me and get me on the right bus. In a situation that reminded me of that in Cape Town, I sat on the bus until he barked at me to get off, and into another.

Away we go, to the city…or so I hope. However, as we near the turnoff, a passenger says, “Kruje?” and gets out, motioning for me to come with him. Turns out the bus is continuing on the main road and we have to take another one the 5 of so miles up the steep hill to Kruje.

This ride was uneventful except for my first spotting of Albanian bunkers, created at the cost of $100,000 each (or so Mirgim says) by a paranoid communist dicator, who decided that the country must be self reliant in case someone wanted to attack this area of 3 million people, barely any infastructure and seemingly little natural resources.

However, once I got off the bus, another man who had been staring at me felt compelled to walk me to the castle, pinch my cheeks and generally make me uncomfortable with his insistance of coffee. There is a strong tradition of hospitality in this country, however, he still made me feel uneasy with his aggression (and, like the other guy, lack of English…so what would we talk about?) so I ditched him with a wave and thankfully entered the castle-eque must-pay musem of Skanderburg, with the top attraction being the beautiful views over the valley. I was, it should be noted, the only person in the entire museum, which took up three floors.

I hopped past the ruins from the 1200s and entered the ethnographic museum – basically, a house from the 1700s with many, many artifacts and a non-English speaking but demonstrative guide.

Then, I began top shop.

Like Sarajevo’s copper alley, there is a baazar with a few dozen shops lining a cobblestone pedestrian road. However, unlike Sarajevo, I was the only person storlling down it. The merchants sell traditional textiles with amazingly cheap antiques, fake pistols from China, copper pots, silver working from elsewhere in the country and, in the case of Migrim, all this plus coins dating back to the Roman age.

By the time I reached Migrim, I had bought a 100-year-old traditional apron for $10 (it may be even older, I am just guessing), a small decorative wool square with a traditional design for $3, a bag for $5 and intricate silverworked earrings for $8. Everything is unarguably handmade, with amazing skill and design. At one shop, I looked at the massive rug – 9×3 feet – that two women were working on continuously. Its price? $310. Total time it takes to make? Around 2 weeks, with two women working at a time.

As I left that store, feeling shopped out, Migrim encouraged me to come in. “What do you have that I haven’t already seen?” I asked. He smiled, and that began a two hour conversation that included a showing of his 100s of pictures and postcards from Albania in the 1900s, his selction of coins (including an American Indian Head $5 coin from the early 1900s in what looked to be perfect condition, and a Roman coin with the head of a Roman emperor), stamps, how I was traveling on my own after traveling with my boyfriend, his take on communist rule, why he loves America, the crazy expensive prices people have paid for artifacts, the prices he has unknowing sold things for, and how all his collection of arms went to Kosovo.

In the end, all this cumulated in a) his gift and b) my purchase of a cross from the 1940s or so for my sister (Abby, are you reading this? I am not expecting that you are!!) I do believe the price I paid was too high (I returned home to see a faint ‘Italy’ stamped on the back), but considering the conversation and all that I learned about Albania, it was worth it. I have no idea of the amult (I picked the old, hard to see green one) is worth anything at all, but it is a token of a memory, with is much harder to price.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 11th, 2006 at 11:36 am and is filed under Albania. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.