A 3 hour road trip to Vlore ensues. The birthplace of Albanian independence in 1912. Our driver and comrade Edmund at the wheel as we retrace our descent through the Albanian mountain range overlooking the coastline. Words cannot describe the beauty of this vast scenery, so figure it out yourself.
Last night's gig was yet another raucous rowdy affair. A more than healthy serving of sweat and drool to help relinquish the feast of Albanian cuisine and alcohol intake/misuse. Weight gain is an increasing inevitability. A nice late night dip in the hotel pool helped the guys fight some flab. It also presented a rare chance for Jake to perfect his swimming skills. We can report his ability to doggy paddle is coming to fruition.
"It seems pointless going to bed now if I've spent all this time getting pissed" George exclaimed shortly after our meal on the way to the hotel. Chris, George and I decide to stay up a while longer to check out some Sarande nightlife. Naturally, the nearest and most seedy nightclub to the hotel was our port of call. 500 Leke each to gain entry, and with that a drink at the bar. Seemed fairly reasonable we thought. So the kid who looked about 12 on the door took our money and we went in. So in we go, unperturbed by the booming Albanian techno and the dingy cave like lighting. Ready to boogie. Lets get the drinks in then. Oh what"s this? A young bulimic Albanian girl wants to try my hat on her peroxide head. No probs. Yes those are my festival wristbands. Anything else? No, she just gawps for a few seconds and responds to my perhaps overly refined English like a dog who's just been shown a card trick. "Is she a ho or a hooker?" I ask George. Who knows. Anyway she's cavorting on the podium with another girl now as everybody looks on. Soon we lose interest as there's virtually no interaction taking, just an assortment of prick tease for entertainment. We drink up and head back.
The rest of the Albanian vibe is great. Lots of happy faces, lots of kind words. Great to be hanging with The Martin Harley Band, despite their collective sexual dysfunction becoming ever more concerning. Nearly made it to Vlore now, slight delay due to a Mafia shooting taking place last night on the mountain side between the Greeks and Albanians. Sounds like handbags to me. Stopping for some food to let the procession pass by.
