26 May-Glimpsing the Future

I always enjoy my travels through Tirana. A few Albanian women cornered me today to ask how their city compares to the others I’ve seen in my travels. After some thought, I said that it had elements of Athens and Paris in it, with its narrow streets, small shops, and surrounding greenery.

I still do not refer to Albanian mastery of the English language. Here are a few more of the English-named establishments I have encountered in the streets of Tirana: Placebo Cafe (Tagline: “Where you only think you’re having a good time”) and Cafe Amnesia (where, in the long run, how and what they serve you doesn’t matter.)

We’ve gotten into a habit of drawing picture-notes for Eri’s Nene and parents when we leave the house, and Karine has perfected the science of thus being understood. We left one for Eri when we left the house today, more out of habit than necessity. It morphed into a miniature novel with a winding plot and copious amounts of death, accompanied by discreet illustrations, and included the following opening line, lifted from Dumb and Dumber: “Weve fone to a place that’s warm, where the beer flows like wine, and the women flock like the salmon of Capistrano.”

The Albanian method of daytime social recreation is to move fluidly from cafe to cafe, spending a few hours at each over espresso, macchiato, or Fanta. The same idea apparently applies to evenings, for when we ventured out later with a group of Eri’s close high school friends, the coffeehouse we met in emptied almost completely around 10p.m. Eri respondered to my query by informing me that all the patrons had “gone for seconds” as the second leg of the night unfolded.

One last note here: all of Eri’s friends spoke perfect English. And so do I. This is how we communicated. I feel increasingly fit for the title of “Budallaqe Amerikane (Stupid American).”

One final portrait of Tirana before I wear the subject out:

Eri and her family live on a dirt road with houses on one side, and on the other, a tangle of a number of things: a junk heap, a pile of concrete barriers, and the practive field for the national football (soccer) team.

But two houses down from Eri’s, at the end of the street, a hotel and restaurant with a world-class rating of six stars and an award from 50 world chefs for its cuisine has just opened its doors. It has been ten years in the building, with every stone and brick cut and laid by specialists, not contractors. Waiters, nearly blushing with pride, showed us gleaming wine cellars and cozy suites upstairs. The owner, who has aged far past his years in the laborious process of building this palace, sat today under a pristine white awning, playing chess with his neighbors. With our caffe Americanos at a distant table, we were the only other customers.

For decades, the muncipal government has promised that this dusty lane will become a main thoroughfare connecting a freshly built neighborhood with Tirana’s economic and business centers. But departments refuse to issue the propoer permits, and secretive attempts to so much as pave the road at private expense are continually squelched by the government and change-averse neighbors.

So the lovely hotel and restaurant sits empty on this hot, bright summer day, standing as an act of faith in Albania’s future. If allowed, it could transform the neighborhood and bring international business into the region.

“I wanted to build something that would outlast me,” the owner told Eri when she was a waitress in high school at her family’s restaurant, which closed last year.  I hope I get a chance to return and bear witness to this hardworking man’s success.