No, Vladimir Ilyich and Uncle Joe, you shall not go to the ball

Posted on 21/11/2012 by Michael

Lenin and Stalin under wraps

No, Vladimir Ilyich and Uncle Joe, you shall not go to the ball

No, Vladimir Ilyich and Uncle Joe, you shall not go to the ball seems to be the message given out by the pro-Western government in Albania. Vladimir Ilyich Lenin and Joseph Stalin are covered up by the Albanian reactionaries in an attempt to prevent them from spoiling their Independence party at the end of the month.

This being my last full day in Tirana and my walk earlier this morning took me past the National Art Gallery I decided to say farewell to the group of revolutionaries hidden away at the back of the building in the impromptu ‘sculpture park’. It was with somewhat of an element of surprise I arrived to discover that Vladimir Ilyich Lenin and Joseph Stalin had been wrapped in tarpaulins and all you could see of them were their legs or feet. The 3 ‘Albanian’s’ remained on show.

I thought that this must have had something to do with the upcoming 100^th Anniversary event of the declaration of Albania’s Independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1912. This was confirmed by the young girl who was playing in the area (I assume the daughter of the family that cares for the building) who reacted to my laughing by saying it was ‘por la festa’.

Every time I think of this I can’t help laughing. The whole idea and situation is beyond ridiculous or farce.

In the first place I’m not sure why these statues are still in existence. In my travels and searches throughout the country I have come across few statues of revolutionary fighters and none of the Marxist leaders. So why this little group still remains is a mystery to me. I will describe the group in more detail in another post.

I would like to know at what level in the government this decree has originated. And is this a normal state of affairs at this time of year or just because it is ‘The Big Anniversary’. I was here at around about the same time last year and there were preparations going on, especially in Skënderbeu Square, but they have definitely pulled out all the stops this year.

As I came around the corner I thought I might have arrived at the time of a kidnapping attempt and was quite relieved that this is only a temporary measure, as I assume it to be.

I just don’t understand the mentality of the people who are making these decisions. If these statues are an affront to those in power (which they are as they represent the antithesis of rampant and voracious capitalism and international toadyism) then destroy them. We can always make more in the future.

Are the ones in power so superstitious that they think that by covering them up they will cease to exist, that the ideas they represent will somehow just go away? Or perhaps they think that Vladimir Ilyich and Joe will be upset by all the tripe that will be spoken next week and they want to protect their sensibilities? Or are they so feudalistic in their thinking that they fear the ‘evil eye’, the dorlolec?

Even though I can’t understand most of what is said in Albanian I think I would be affronted by the fatuous and meaningless statements that will be made to comfort the gullible about the importance of independence. All this at a time when the country is probably lees independent, in a real sense, than it has been in any of the past hundred years.

Just like all the efforts that were made in the UK in 2012 to try to create a ‘feel-good factor’ the economic and political problems don’t go away just because you don’t think, talk or even try to deal with them.

The tactic of covering up these two statues is just a demonstration of the feudal, peasant narrow-mindedness that is the basis for the political philosophy of the rulers of present day Albania. This was shown by the return, last Saturday, the 17^th November 2012, of the remains of the self-proclaimed king, Zog, to Tirana. Those in power in Albania have no future to offer the people so they present them with a feudal and subservient past.

Lenin, Stalin and friends behind the Art Gallery, Tirana

Now you see them …

… now you don’t.

Panagia Monastery Church – Mother of Christ – Dhermi, Albania

Posted on 16/11/2012 by Michael

Small altar of the Panagia Monastery Church, Dhermi, southern Albania

Small altar in the Panagia church

Panagia Monastery Church – Mother of Christ – Dhermi, Albania

The rear wall of the Panagia Monastery Church – Mother of Christ – in Dhërmi, Himara province, southern Albania, warns sinners of what’s in store for them if they don’t repent.

Over the years I’ve been inside hundreds of churches and Cathedrals, mainly Catholic or Protestant, and each time it’s been on the look-out for something unusual, different from the norm. For example, the huge (unreal) guinea pig on the table of the Last Supper in Cuzco, Peru, or the black Christ and two Marys in a church in Lorca, in Spain.

But Greek Orthodox churches are new to me and its only in Albania that I’ve had the chance to go inside a significant number of them. And for me they are generally not very interesting. The layout is virtually the same: the rood screen at the front, behind which there is the altar; on the screen there will be the same collection of icons, of Christ and the Apostles; and around the walls there will be icons of other saints, depictions of their miracles and/or martyrdom. The only variant seems to be in the wealth or otherwise of any particular church, some having (from where I know not) acquired huge amounts of money to pay for the silver images on the rood screen, the fine painted icons that decorate the walls or the chandeliers.

When I went inside a new Orthodox church in the small village of Dhërmi, which is along the coastal road from Saranda to Vlore, in the southern part of the country, a woman who was something like a caretaker encouraged me to go to the centre of the church and look at all this silverware with the words ‘Buker, jo?’ (‘Isn’t it beautiful?’) Impressive perhaps, but not the sort of artwork that does much for me.

This has been taken to the ultimate in the Greek Orthodox Cathedral in the centre of Tirana, opened on 24th June 2012.

At the opposite extreme to these clean, almost pristine, new buildings are the ancient churches and monasteries that exist throughout the country. Some of these go back centuries and they are interesting as they are very much in the style of the Romanesque churches that exist in western Europe, a style I’ve grown to like over the years, mainly for its primitiveness, honesty and naiveté.

A couple of those I’ve been able to see were in a really sad state. These were two small churches in the Old Town of Himara. This area had been abandoned I don’t know how many years ago as I’ve drawn a blank when looking for information about when the people decided to live lower down the hill.

These two churches had suffered from damage which I imagine was a mixture of vandalism (the area was always being fought over by different armies) and just simple neglect. In a country which declared itself the first atheist state in the world in 1967 it is sometimes forgotten that churches have been left to go to ruin throughout history, throughout the western world, even in countries that considered themselves deeply and profoundly religious. Therefore not every ruined and abandoned church is as a result of a political act, although political opponents will suggest it is.

In fact, it was the Government of the People’s Republic of Albania that declared these two churches part of country’s heritage in 1963, providing the buildings with a certain amount of protection, indicating that neither the church authorities nor the local populace were taking care of the structures themselves.

One church that I visited that did seem to have had some element of care lavished upon it over the years was in the same village of Dhërmi which I’ve mentioned above. This was Panagia Monastery Church – Mother of Christ – perched high up above the old town.

Panagia Monastery high above Dhermi

When I say ‘care’ that is all relative. Even though in a better state than some of the older churches the space at the back of the church resembled something closer to a garden shed than a church, and the ancient mural that covered the whole of the back wall had a home-made ladder (the sort you see in an orchard) leaning against these fragile images. I’m not one for arguing that these images should be destroyed but at the same time I do believe there’s a certain responsibility incumbent upon the local people not to damage them by carelessness and neglect. If they don’t take care why should the rest of society come in a pick up the bill for restoration?

It was on this wall that I saw some of the most interesting images in a Greek Orthodox church so far.

I’m always on the look out for the unusual, as I said above. What has particularly attracted me about many of the paintings in Romanesque churches is the way that ignorant, frightened, superstitious and gullible people thought of the afterlife. Placing these images in churches was obviously a process of social control. If you were faced with such horrific images of perpetual torture by horrendous, devilish creatures you were less likely to buck against the existing order. The images might be different but religion still plays that pivotal role in most societies – hence the atheist campaign in Albania.

So what is Hell like? I’m always on the search for any clues just in case I’ve got it all wrong and there is a God, there is an afterlife and there is a Heaven and a Hell. Because if I have got it wrong I’m going to Hell for sure – and wouldn’t even contemplate going to Heaven.

If there is a God then these images are not just from the imagination of man – I don’t think many women were painting church murals in the past. They must come from some inspiration from the Almighty and therefore must be an accurate record of the fate to befall all of us sinners.

And that being the case I’m always glad that God has a sense of humour as well as being prepared to cruelly place many of us through torments and agonies for eternity. I particularly like the image that, I assume, depicts what awaits a drunkard when he enters Hell, being forced to drink from a never emptying barrel. I know some people who would rather see that as a depiction of Heaven.

Panagia Monastery – The Drunkard in Hell

Walking from Valbona to Thethi in north-eastern Albania

Posted on 15/11/2012 by Michael

The final challenge to the Qafa e Valbones

Walking from Valbona to Thethi in north-eastern Albania

Two attempts at the walk between Valbona and Thethi in north-eastern Albania and still don’t make it. The reasons why not and perhaps the reasons why the next time.

It’s now official – I’m a failure. In fact, a failure twice over. One of the set plans I had before coming out here was to do a circular route in the mountains of north Albania. This would have involved various forms of getting from A to B, including a boat trip, a couple of furgon (minibus) trips and, crucially, a stretch where I would have to do all the hard work and climb up, and back down, a mountain.

That’s was the part where there was no alternative way other than foot and by failing to achieve that goal was unable to complete the circuit.

This was all intended to take place in the valleys of Valbona and Thethi in the north-east of the country, areas very close to the border with Montenegro. I had been to this area before and knew, more or less, what to expect but the challenge became too great.

The hills and mountains in this area are incredibly beautiful and especially so at this time of year as the shades of green change to shades of red, gold and brown. This area is dominated by beech trees but there are also varieties of pines and conifers as well as many plants new to me. There are supposed to more than 3000 types of plant that grow in Albania, some of them being unique to the country. This is understandable as you travel around and see the changes in the terrain, ranging as it does from Mediterranean beaches to high, stark, snow bound peaks.

It was through the latter I would have to walk in order to get from the small village of Valbona to the even smaller village of Thethi. This would entail a walk of about 14 kilometres, a climb of 815m and a descent of 1000m (starting from a point at just under a 1000m high) so altitude starts to play a part.

My problems started the day I arrived. Incorrect information about furgon departure times meant that I decided to hitch. That has mixed fortunes in Albania which I want to write about later but suffice to say that I ended up getting a lift which I had to pay for, not a lot but thought it better to get to Valbona (thinking I’d missed the minibus) rather than be stranded in Barjam Currie – which is not the most exciting place in the country.

If I had taken the furgon (which left at 16.00 when I was told 14.00) I would have arrived at the literal end of the road and the beginning of the path over the mountains. As it was I was dropped off at a place that was as far as it was possible to be from the trail head. If only I knew then what I know now. There was no problem with the place I stayed in, apart from the fact that after arriving there, a guest house which operates like the British B+B, I was unable to communicate with the old Albanian woman who prepared my meals. So I left the next morning with the intention of going to Thethi not really sure from where I was starting.

This meant a long road walk, which was easy in that the climb was reasonably gentle, and it was cool as even thought the sun was up, and it would get hot later, the high mountains meant that the sun only really shone in the valley from late morning to early afternoon. But it was long, about 8 kilometres. So I ended up walking for the best part of two hours before even starting the off-road trek.

(If anyone reading this considers doing this walk make sure to arrange a lift of some kind to the end of the mettled road if you stay in any of the guest houses that are spread out over a long distance along the valley.)

The next problem was finding the beginning of the route. Now in all the years I’ve been walking one of the matters I’ve never been able to understand is why waymarks are so badly placed at the beginning of a route. I don’t know if this intentional – there’s a growing business in guided walks in the area and I’ve been in some areas where local guides don’t like waymarking as it allows for independent travel – but where it was needed it was lacking. And if you get it wrong at the beginning life becomes difficult.

I asked a local who could speak English and he pointed up the dry river bed and said ‘There’. Where? I thought but didn’t say. The outcome of this was that I spent more time than necessary trying to pick up the marked route as I wasn’t going to start climbing 800m if I wasn’t on the correct path. The result was more time wasted and more energy used up. (I’ll be writing a separate post describing the beginning and what I did of this walk, with the intention of giving a clear indication of what a walker could expect in making this trip.)

And that started to take its toll within an hour or so. I debated aborting until the next day but kept on putting off the decision until I had reached a coll at just over 1400m high. At that point I decided that I just didn’t have the energy necessary to make the final 400m and then get down the other side, on terrain I did not know. So retreated down the track where I did know what to expect and got back to the bar/hotel at the trail head.

Why the first failure? Getting old and not accepting it? A little bit. Not as fit as I thought I was? A contributory factor. But ended up deciding that the reason was the extra, but ultimately pointless, waste of time and energy before I had even started to make the big climb and the fact that the day before a not inconsiderable amount of alcohol had been placed on the table in front of me.

Next day would be different. I knew where the it started and was at the beginning of the real walk. Tomorrow I would get to Thethi.

But I didn’t. I got higher, to just under 1600m, but still about 250m short of the Qafa e Valbones, the highest point on the path. When I saw what that entailed I just lost heart and it wasn’t long before I was again in retreat.

I wasn’t going to try a third time this year as I sensed that the weather was starting to change at the top and although I had two almost perfect days for walking I thought I might be pushing it to expect the same on the third day.

I also thought I knew why I had failed twice. Some of the earlier reasons still had some resonance but now added another, my bag was too heavy. Looking up at the cliff face I had to climb (the photo at the top of the post shows the coll towards the right of the picture) I was sure that I could have got up it, but not with the weight I was carrying.

The trouble was technology. I had pared things down to a minimum with what I thought I would need in the event of the weather turning quickly against me but my camera and computer were just too much. A computer? Yes, a small laptop. So why was I climbing up a mountain with a computer. I could give reasons but they would only sound like lame excuses. Surely only an idiot goes up a mountain carrying a computer. So probably the real reason I didn’t make the round trip to Thethi was idiocy.

Did I bottle out too soon? Probably – I could have just tried to take it very, very steady. Could I have made it with a little bit more will power? Possibly. Do I regret not making it? No, not at all. Don’t need to prove anything to myself or anyone else and saw no reason to do something that was ceasing to be a pleasure and becoming a chore.

Knowing what I know now I’ll do it next year. (But it didn’t happen. Never got around to doing the walk, although I was in Albania on a number of occasions subsequently.)