You may recall that in my last post – here, I mentioned that I had damaged some ribs after a fall in Skopje. I had to catch a train a couple of days later and the lifting of my backpack etc. really took a toll on me. So having spent a few days in Bitola, I decided to scrap the idea of 2 buses to my next destination, Tirana and take a private transfer instead. It was a lot over my budget, but I thought it would be good to look after myself. I contacted an English speaking driver through a local Tirana facebook group, agreed a good (for me) price and, on the day, he drove the 4 hours up to meet me.
His first question was whether I was willing to change my Airbnb in Tirana (already paid for with no refund if cancelled), to one of the places he rents out. His next question was rather strange; he asked me if I was from the UK or Israel. I have never been given those two options before. I told him I was Irish, mainly because I am travelling on my Irish passport and I didn’t want him to say anything that might confuse the border officers in either country.
My Airbnb host was coming out from work to say goodbye to me (something which almost never happens) and the driver was a bit tetchy because he had to wait all of 5 minutes for him to arrive. So much so, that the host asked if I was going to be okay. I said a nervous yes as, even then, I wasn’t sure.
Anyway I got in the car and I think before we left the street he got a phone call which he answered. He was obviously very tired having got up so early to come out to me and I was a little worried as to whether I would have to grab the steering wheel if he nodded off. I guess texting and taking calls is not illegal in Macedonia or Albania, as it is in the UK and Ireland.
Once we got out of Bitola, the road went into the mountains, but it became increasingly difficult to admire the magnificent views as we were often on hairpin bends and I was so worried about him taking and making calls with one hand whilst the other was (sometimes) on the steering wheel. I have to admit, I rather admired his ability to have arguments in French and English as well as Albanian, though he sometimes spoke to me in French as if he couldn’t remember who he was physically with. After about an hour we stopped for a break … a cigarette break, although I don’t smoke, at a car park near a small chapel. (See picture.) I didn’t know whether to take a photograph or to go inside and pray. At the lakeside town of Ohrid we had a longer stop, for lunch. It was a lovely day and I can see why so many people had told me to stay there. Incidentally, if I had gone by bus, I would have had to have made a change near here, but the connection was very close, which was one of the reasons why I had decided not to do that. But it did cross my mind to wonder if I could get on a bus now! We had lunch separately (I think he needed time away from me) and he was again tetchy as I was about 5 minutes late for the reunion.
We made our way towards the border with Albania which is only about 20 minutes from Ohrid. When we arrived, we were only processed on the Albanian side where there were two officers in the booth, a male and a female. The male officer got into a long discussion with my driver who was sighing between sentences. Then the female officer came to the car and opened the back door and moved my coat. I thought she was going to search the car and hoped that my slippery elm bark, the natural remedy which I have been told looks like raw heroin, wouldn’t cause me to be slammed into an Albanian gaol. But no, she was making room for herself. My driver had been talked into giving her a lift to Tirana. At first there was some discussion and I understood (somehow) that she was going to the city for a seminar or lecture on security. But after a while the conversation stopped. I looked back and she had fallen asleep.
That proved to be the green light for my driver (though I am sure he would have driven through red lights as well if he thought he could get away with it.) On some of the hairpins we were dangerously on the wrong side of the road and a couple of times I had to shout as he was rushing headlong into some stationery traffic. He then (thankfully) braked sharply, which did my bruised ribs no favours as they pulled against the seatbelt. At one point he told ME off for shouting as he said “it’s all under control.” Of course it is, I thought, until the one time when it isn’t. I didn’t look behind again so I don’t know if our hitch-hiker managed to sleep through this or if she was just ignoring what was going on, but eventually we reached the outskirts of Tirana and my driver stopped to allow her to get out. When she did so, she was already talking on her phone and before he set off again my driver commented “no thanks, no payment offer …”
The last few minutes through the heaving Tirana traffic were relatively uneventful and he dropped me off outside my apartment block. He then pointed out the block in which he was living which appeared to be right next door. His last words to me were “if you need to go anywhere don’t worry to message me.” Hmmmm.
He did message me a couple of times later to see if I was interested in a trip out to the coast, but I always seemed to be busy on those days. I also had a message from my Airbnb host in Bitola checking if I had got to Tirana okay, which had never happened before, he really must have been concerned.
Just to add that I didn’t let that experience put me off. On leaving Tirana, I decided (again) that the 4 hour journey to Vlorë on a full minibus would be too much for me, so got a reasonable price from a local taxi company (half the price of a recommended private transfer company) and I was picked up in a Tesla. Although the driver didn’t speak any English, we communicated well enough to ensure a break part-way for coffee (and his cigarette) and it was just the most wonderful smoothest journey ever. But I probably won’t remember that journey so well as the one from Bitola, having survived to tell the tale!
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