729 days ago I booked a flight to Tirana at around 4pm. At 6:30am the following morning I was sitting on a plane, about to depart for my new destination. What was initially supposed to be a 3 day visit, turned into 3 weeks and now two years later I am mother to an Albanian citizen, engaged to an Albanian man, and living here happily with no intention of moving.
The question I get asked the most is “why Albania”? And to this I have no answer. It was a snap decision made with little planning or thought, so much so that I nearly missed my flight, arriving to the airport moments before the gates closed. As we raced to catch the flight, I ummed and ahhed about turning round and going back to bed, but boy am I glad I didn’t.
My first year in Albania was very much about exploration, adoration, and infiltration. My second year has been a baptism of fire that at times drove me to the edge, but all in all, just reinforced my love for this country.
I fell pregnant in September last year, just before my one-year-in-Albania-
Over the last 12 months, I have interviewed people in the Astir part of Tirana about the government’s plans to demolish their homes, I have visited Macedonia in the snow and been to villages where there are coffee shops only for men. I have explored the mountains around Tragjas including a ghost town that was abandoned after WWII leaving nothing behind but crumbling shells that are slowly being reclaimed by nature and drawn back into the earth.
I’ve written the words of moves, shakers, the old, the. young, composers, artists, activists, politicians, citizens, and humans like you and me. I have argued, criticised, and disagreed with many, and laughed at those who have nothing better to do than to plagiarise or slander.
I have visited farms in Shkodra, filling my belly full of pomegranate juice and being gifted paintings of fields full of
I have eaten goat that just falls off the bone, washed it down with fruity homemade red wine, and eaten enough soft, salty cheese to last a couple of lifetimes.
I have watched women weave beautiful fabric and seen them turn them into the most wonderful creations and I have handled silk cocoons before they are turned into unique items of traditional dress. I’ve bought sunflowers and yellow roses from street vendors, had chestnuts roasted and put into paper cones on the street corner and I’ve eaten piping hot corn on the cob, cooked by a woman who sits on a crate near my house.
I adopted a street cat and helped her overcome her traumas by playing her Chopin and letting her sit on my chest and I have named the stray dogs that frequent my neighbourhood, secretly wishing I could adopt them all.
I have stayed in what I am sure is a haunted house and learnt enough Albanian to get me by on a day to day basis. I’ve dodged falling conkers as autumn has descended on the city and laughed at those who have had near misses as I sit, sipping my latte. I’ve been panicked by earthquakes, running into the street half dressed with my daughter only to be adopted (temporarily) by some kind neighbours who helped me and my daughter pass the hours until we felt it was safe to return. I ran a 10k and enjoyed my training, exploring the lake park in the early hours of the morning before the sun was too high in the sky.
I visited LGBT film festivals and exhibitions on deserted islands, I rode on a motorbike, swam in the sea, and quivered on my balcony as I watched a symphony of electrical storms rage above me.
I discovered new artists, writers, musicians and historical figures and I listened to stories told by the older generation of the not-so-distant past of suffering and persecution. I learned the truth, saw through propaganda, said what I feel, wrote what I wanted, and had the guts to say “I was wrong” and to change my mind. I fundraised and contributed, helped out and donated because I have always sworn to give back to this country and never to take.
I mourned those who passed and I welcomed my daughter after nearly losing myself both mentally and physically in the process.
I’ve made new friends and enemies, and realised that some of the former were actually the latter and moved on. I was smeared by the media and laughed in their faces before suing them in court and I was attacked by the police before taking them to court and winning. I stood up to online bullies and trolls and those who threatened me when I was six months pregnant and sick. I passed through adversity and came out the other side, happier, stronger, and more determined than ever.
I’ve attended protests for media freedom, against hate speech, for students, for women, for the environment and for the preservation of the national theatre. I’ve explored this beautiful but troubled city with my daughter strapped on my chest, staring at the trees as we pass.
Now people ask me, but after all of that, has your opinion changed on Albania? And I said “yes it has, it has made me love it more.”
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