Albania: Vlora

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Our plan for the next day or two was to make our way down to a small coastal town called Dhermi on the Ionian Riviera.  When I first bought the Lonely Planet Western Balkans book there was a picture of Drymades Beach at Dhermi that looked like paradise on earth.  I knew I had to get there.

Since this was Albania though, getting there was a major problem.  You need luck on your side, and, fortunately, we had just enough.  My brother spoke to the girl who worked in our hotel and arranged for a morning taxi ride to the random area of the city where the minibuses departed.  Well, our taxi guy didn't show up.

We had to get another taxi, worried that we may miss the morning bus to Dhermi.  Apparently there is only one per day.  The taxi dropped us off in some parking lot, with no Dhermi buses in sight.  We asked a couple of the drivers and they instructed us to cross the busy boulevard and jump on the old school bus that was sitting on the side of the street.

We boarded, and, within ten minutes, we were off.  If we had missed that bus, who knows what would have happened.  Except this bus wasn't going to Dhermi, as there are no direct buses to Dhermi from Tirana.  Instead we were headed to another coastal town, Vlora, from where we would find another bus to Dhermi.

Within an hour, we had arrived in Durres, the second largest city in Albania.  Traffic was at a standstill along the coastal road due to the large beach crowds.  There is a huge stretch of beach south of Durres, although it looked rather grimy.  It wasn't quite the Montenegrin Riviera which wasn't quite the Dalmatian Coast. 

We cruised down the coast, exhausted, and pulled into a parking lot in downtown Vlora, a large city of 85,000.  We had absolutely no idea where we were going from here, but, thankfully, a young couple on the bus spoke English and told us they would find out where the Dhermi bus left from.

A few minutes later we were in a beat up taxi, driving aimlessly through the streets of Vlora.  We had no idea what time the Dhermi bus left, or if there would be one.  It didn't seem our taxi driver had any clue either.  As a matter of fact, he seemed quite lost.  At least twice he stopped the car, got out, and consulted with the locals.  Finally, he turned onto a dirt road in the middle of a deserted industrial section of town and dropped us off. 

We were hesitant to get out of the taxi, because there was absolutely no way a bus would be leaving from this road which was far off the beaten track and outside the downtown.  There were a few people hanging out on the sidewalk who I guess were trying to tell us the location was correct, but we didn't believe anyone. 

The driver took off though, and we were stuck.  To think this place was a bus stop absolutely baffled me.  Who picked this spot and why?  The kids on the street told us the bus didn't leave for at least an hour, so I took off back to the downtown to buy some souvenirs from a stand I saw on the ride in.

My brother stayed with the luggage as I made the Albanian souvenir stand owner rich.  I bought football uniforms, keychains, sleeveless t-shirts, a scarf, and some random Kosova plastic thing.  On my way back to the "bus stop" I picked up some tasty burek (cheese and meat filled pastries) for the long ride ahead.

As I turned the corner onto the random dirt road, my brother yelled at me to hurry up because the bus was leaving.  And, in some strange custom, no one would get on the bus until I arrived.  I felt like a King, it was rather nice.  In yet another strange twist though, the bus wouldn't leave for another half hour.  Bizarre.

As we ate on the bus, every Albanian would stare at us.  I guess they rarely see American tourists.  They literally could not take their eyes off of us.  I found it hilarious; my brother did not.  The bus was quite small, and we were sure to each get window seats on the right hand side because the journey along the coast was supposed to be one of the most spectacular bus rides in Europe.

And it didn't disappoint.  Before we hit the coast, we went through the downtown and picked up four young Albanian girls who frantically flagged the bus down.  Only there was no room, so they had to stand. 

As the journey progressed, the old man next to me tried to have a conversation.  But he didn't speak English which complicated things.  One of the girls who was standing, Linda, did speak English and basically acted as a translator for a while.  Eventually he told her that she should speak to me because she knew English.  Fairly awkward.

The bus went through a valley and ascended a steeply graded road at the Llogara Pass.  Once we passed through the trees and a national park, the bus came out on top of the pass for a sensational view.  Thankfully the bus stopped for a break, and we looked down a mile below to the Riviera, with the Greek Islands in the distance. 

There were long stretches of beach that seemed to extend for miles, and Dhermi was right in the middle.  The bus quickly, and sometimes frighteningly, weaved down the mountain's zigzag road towards Dhermi.  The panorama was stunning and unforgettable.  An absolutely brilliant ride.

The bus dropped us off, along with the four girls, at the top of the road to Dhermi, although I had hoped the ride would take even longer.  It was a miracle we made it here in one afternoon.  As someone later said, "If you see a bus in Albania, get on it because you'll never know when another will come around."