When people ask me why or how I came to Albania, I smile and usually give a somewhat diluted version of events. In actual fact, the reason that I ended up living here is down to a seemingly unconnected chain of events, some small, some big, that ultimately ended up in me being where I am today.
The phrase for this is “the butterfly effect”, a branch of chaos theory that refers to a situation where one small change can result in significant differences in a larger state. For example, the simple act of a butterfly fluttering its wings could set off a chain of increasingly larger events, resulting in a tornado many weeks or even months later.
In 2017 I was preparing to get married and living in Malta. I had spent the best part of ten years there and had quit my job in a law firm the year before to pursue writing. In early July, I cancelled the upcoming wedding ceremony and made a snap decision to get on a plane, head to Cyprus and stay with friends.
Over the following months, I decided to move to Cyprus and I gradually started moving my belongings, one case at a time. Then, in October, I felt the urge to travel.
I had a few options and decided on Tirana, Albania. After all, why not? I booked my flight at around 4 pm and was due to fly at 6 am the next morning.
At the time, I was living around one hour from the airport and I needed to be there by 5 am at the very latest. My alarm went off around 3 am and I rolled over and pressed snooze. Little did I know that I had actually pressed “dismiss”.
Suddenly I opened my eyes and I could see the first tendrils of daylight creeping through the blinds. I had woken up naturally and in a second, I started to panic. I glanced at my phone- 4.45 am. I had about ten missed calls from the taxi and at that moment I thought “screw it” and I closed my eyes and rolled over. I wouldn’t make it so I may as well go back to sleep, I thought.
Then suddenly, the energy came from somewhere within me and I found my feet planted on the ground and the covers thrown on the floor. I called the taxi and told him to be there in five minutes and to bring coffee because he was going to need it. I threw on my clothes from the night before, grabbed my passport and hand luggage and was out the door.
The drive to the airport passed in a literal blur. I was convinced we wouldn’t make it despite the taxi driver breaking every single speed limit as we passed through the mountains on our way to Larnaca. By the time we got to the airport, it was daylight and just after 5. I grabbed my bag, paid the rather fraught taxi driver, and ran into the terminal. The gate was deserted but I ran through the barrier and banged on the counter, shouting “hello” frantically. Thankfully, a kind stewardess took pity on me and as they hadn’t fully closed the gate, she let me through.
There were many times I considered not bothering and going back to bed, but something kept me going.
I was staying in Tirana for four days. On the first day, I stumbled across an ex-pats meeting in the lobby of the hotel. Curious and with nothing else to do, I joined in and was invited to go to a gala that night. So I picked out my fanciest dress from my tiny suitcase, and off I went to the ball. I mingled, danced, and drank a fair bit of wine before venturing solo into the smoking area. There was one other girl there who introduced herself as Iris. She was Austrian and working in Albania for a large oil company. We hit it off, exchanged numbers and agreed to meet for a drink before i left.
The next day I woke up with severe pain in my ear and an earache. The hotel called a doctor who came and examined me, prescribing antibiotics and painkillers. He also told me that I shouldn’t fly for the next five days because I would risk perforating my eardrum. I asked about my flight in two days, and he suggested trying to rebook.
By this point I already loved Tirana and I didn’t need much convincing so I logged on and booked a new flight home. It wasn’t until the next day when I checked my email that I realised I had booked the flight for THREE WEEKS from that day. Here I was in Tirana with a small suitcase in an expensive hotel for another three weeks. I considered booking another flight sooner, but something told me no. Instead, I decided to make the best of it and checked into a small short-term rental.
I messaged Iris and explained what had happened and after she stopped laughing she said “it was meant to be”.
By the end of week two, I had decided I wanted to live here. Already Albania felt like home. I wandered the streets, took photos, got drunk with an old couple who didn’t speak English, ate incredible food, went to the coast, took the cable car to Dajti- I was in love. I told Iris that I wanted to live here and she said: “well it’s funny you mention it, but I have a spare room for rent, why don’t you take it?” So I did.
I left, got my belongings and my two cats, and I came back to Albania and moved into my new friends spare room. I was finally home.
A month or so passed and I came down with terrible flu. I was supposed to fly to Malta to meet the Maltese president in recognition of some work I had done for women’s rights, but I was so sick I had to cancel. I was bed ridden for two weeks and saw no one, apart from Iris every so often as she threw fruit at me and poked me with a stick to make sure I was alive.
Eventually, I emerged from my room- looking awful, feeling terrible, but on my way to recovery. Iris was in the kitchen and told me she was heading out to a friend’s birthday party. She told me to come but the thought of socialising filled me with dread. And I still felt sick. But eventually, her persistence wore me down. I found myself still protesting as I put on my jeans and brushed my hair.
As we walked into the bar, I turned to her and said “Just one drink then I am going home.”
That was the night I met my partner and the now father of my baby girl. He, in turn, inspired me to start this blog and guided me through many of the places I have featured in it.
As for my daughter, I had been told the chances of me having children was low following a botched appendectomy some years before. Yet here she is, one year old and very much wanted and loved.
The situation I am in now could not have happened without each of these small, seemingly inconsequential events happening. What would have happened if I didn’t quit my job to be a writer? Or file for divorce? Or decided to get on a plane to Cyprus? Or decided to visit Albania? Or decided to go back to sleep the morning of my flight? Or there was traffic at the airport? Or the hostess didn’t let me through? Or the doctor said I could fly? Or if I didn’t accidentally click the wrong date when booking a flight? Or I didn’t get the flu? Would I have been dealt the hand of luck that I have now? I doubt it.
So was it all chance or fate? Was it meant to be? Or was it all just coincidence? Let us not even consider the fact that my great uncle travelled these lands 150 years ago, writing about what he encountered and painting the scenery. This, by the way, was not my reason for coming and doing what I am doing, again it was another one of those things that just is.
Maybe you don’t know me and you are reading this thinking “what’s the big deal about coming to Albania?” But in reality, it was the biggest deal of my life. It is the only place I have ever felt at home. It is a place I cannot imagine leaving and it is a place that truly has my heart. This country has given me love, happiness, peace, and my daughter- all the things I thought I would never have. That is why it’s a big deal.
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