At around 4 in the night we’re dropped off by the bus in a small park-like place in a small town on the north border of Albania, the bus can not take us across the border because we didn’t come with it in, and they are afraid of being accused with smuggeling.
The park is tiny and has a tagged-down statue of a little man holding a gun in the air for a salute, and a few red benches labeled with the name of the bank that baught them. There’s not really any grass.
So the girls go to sleep in their sleeping bags on the statue and benches, and i decide i can’t sleep anyways so i’ll keep awake in the night. The city is completely dead, not a sound to be heard but the very rarely passing car.
The first sound comes after about an hour, and it’s the sound of hounds howling. There’s a lot of them here, i guess strays. In not too long one comes along and lays himself down not too far from us, i eye him suspiciously, but he just seemt to be lugging about.
After another half hour, along comes an old weatherbeaten man on a scooter, he drives up to a pair of dumpsters, rummages trough them, finds a bottle, stomps on it and puts it in the sadlebag of hes scooter, before he drives on to the next trashcan and repeats the process.
Some minutes after him comes the garbage truck, and empties the dumpsters the old man just went trough - going exactly the same route as him, seems like he knows the garbage route and has learnt how to go just ahead of them. How it can pay for itself to go by scooter to do this, i cannot really understand.
Soon after the garbage truck comes the first minibusses, they are in no way uniform, just seems to be any odd truck owned by any odd person. They stand for a little while, leave, and not long after comes another minibus. And then comes the young guys in ther old VW Golfs, not really with booming music like i’d expect to hear at home from such kids. And even a big streetwashing truck starts cleaning the asfalt.
Then along comes two men and sit themselves on the bench next to us. I grow suspicious, not at all knowing the place or being used to sleeping just anywhere, i kind of keep an eye on them and hope for my friends soon to wake up. After a little while one of them asks me something to the effect of what we are up to, why we are sleeping in the park, and these are kindly cureously asked questions that serves to relax me.
After not too long my friends wake up and we are talking and the guy on the bench is telling us that we should have come and slept in hes appartment, they are very helpfull trying to get us where and what we want, one even stops a car of the roaming teens for us to hitchhike with, but we’d rather want some food first. They also give the impression of not loving their city, telling how no one ever comes there for the purpose of comming there, everyone is just passing trough.
Apperantly there is nowhere to buy food at that hour, but we manage to get apples at a little roadside store and some hot chocolate in a bar. And not long after me and my travel companion leave for the Montenegro border in a brownish Ford Transit minibus wich has had its window broken, and seems to have mended it purely by glueing a CD over the hole.Jun012011