Ever been stranded way far away from ... anything?
In the interest of keeping this blog interesting ... I've decided to relive a moment in the past that was extremely ... interesting.
Over the years, Fiona and I have led a lot of trips for providing aid or assistance through humanitarian efforts, church efforts, or eventually through the Andando Foundation for many people in many countries.
Way back in 1999, this effort took us to Albania - a little known (almost unknown) country with a rather mixed history of violence and hostility - so we found ourselves on our way to that destination on a trip to Europe seventeen years ago.
We were actually in the process of a trip to Venice and other nice destinations, but since we were so close, we decided to take a sojourn to Albania (because of the political situation at that time) with the purpose of setting up a near term aid and assistance effort for refugees in a crisis.
The source of the crisis was Kosovo, where a war had broken out spilling over from the conflict in Bosnia and Serbia. Note: This area has been a source of conflict and war since ... the beginning of time. Ironically, the Kosovars were fleeing ethnic violence to ... Albania.
To give readers a perspective on this choice, it would be like jumping off the top of a ten story building to escape a fire. In other words, either option is really bad. For the Kosovars caught in the crossfire of a war, it was almost like they could choose to die in Kosovo or suffer a terrible fate in ... Albania.
The biggest problem for us in this endeavor to provide help is that Albania is not an easy place to get to. In fact, it's an extraordinarily difficult place to get to - something we found out in person. As we plotted our journey, it contained no options but to travel overland from Greece.
We made our way to the best jumping off point - Thessalonika, in Greece. This is a rather enchanting coastal city that may be familiar to many as the target of the Biblical book of Thessalonians.
At any rate, we found ourselves there in Thessalonika with the challenge of getting to Albania. You might stop and question this rather unusual scenario where Fiona and I are putting ourselves in harm's way to help people we've never met in a place we've never been to. We eventually adopted that frame of mind through a curious turn of events.
So the only way to get to Albania from Greece is by bus, over the mountains from Thessalonika to Korce (pronounced core-cha), where we hoped to make contact with a name we had on a scrap of paper. Hey, this was a while back, in the days before the internet - or common sense, for that matter.
Turns out the bus leaves at midnight. This became quickly apparent as the worst possible time to begin a bus trip. Why? Because the unruly passengers chose to pass the time before the bus left by drinking vast amounts of alcohol. As they began to board the bus, everyone began to push and shove and ... this led to drunken men throwing punches and it got very rowdy.
However, we had tickets! So we pushed and shoved our way to the front of the line and (because we look like affluent foreigners) we were allowed to board. Others were not so fortunate, and things got very rough, as it became obvious that everyone would not fit on the bus. There was a lot of shouting and obscenities in foreign languages, and more punches thrown. Worst boarding procedure I have ever seen. It was dang near a riot.
So, off we go, with a very uncertain feeling about the whole thing. It is very unsettling to begin a trip to God knows where with a brawl and no one speaks English and we don't even know what we're going to do when we get there.
The bus trip starts off okay, but quickly descends into chaos. We climb a mountain range over treacherous roads in the dark until we reach the top of a hill and stop. All the men get out and go to the right side of the bus to pee. All the women get off the bus and go to the left side to vomit.
And we've got a long way to go! We're just getting started. So we sort of pile and stagger back on to the bus and the driver decides to check for tickets. Keep in mind that the driver at this stage ... well, he is the Law. He is a big gnarly dude and he is going down the aisle and checking for tickets. I'm thinking "how did people get on the bus without tickets?"
He found out some lady had no tickets and he slapped her hard! Geez! This is getting weird. Then he found some "stowaway" guy who had no ticket and he became furious and began to thrash the hell out of the guy, beating the crap out of him! And the driver dragged this guy to the front of the bus and grabbed him by the collar and back of his pants and hurled him off the bus! The passenger tumbled off over the side of the hill!
Fiona and I shrunk down in our seats. We waved our tickets in the air so the driver wouldn't beat us up, and he smiled and said we were fine. Whew! Dodged a bullet there, or at least a beating.
So we continue on into the night over hill and dale into one of the more remote parts of the world. At this point it was hard to sleep, we were very nervous and began to second guess our decision to make this trip.
As the night wore on, we made progress over the mountain range separating Greece from Albania. As the early morning light began to appear, we came to a remote passport control post, the border between the two countries. It was SO not close to anywhere. All we could see was mountains and hills and guys with guns.
So the driver announces, "Everyone off the bus! Go to the office!"
Of course, no one spoke English, but we could get the picture, so we just followed the rest of the bus crowd into the office. It was a fairly crude operation with antiquated buildings. All the Albanians went in one line, and the few Greeks went in another line, and we (the only Americans, or any kind of foreigners) went in a third line.
This whole process took forever. You think American bureaucracy is a hassle? ... try the stuff overseas. And right on cue, when the Albanian border guard realizes we're American, the price goes up. "You need to pay more money!" he says.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because!" he answers.
So we play the game and wait while he stamps the numerous papers. It takes a long time. We notice that the other lines are moving faster, and most of the people are back on the bus. Pretty soon, EVERYONE is back on the bus - but us. What is taking this border guy so long?
The bus begins to move. It starts rolling forward. I say to Fiona "surely, he is going to stop ..." But the bus keeps rolling and picking up speed. I ask the border guy to hurry up - he has no idea what we're saying and doesn't really care.
I again state (for my own reassurance) "This bus guy is going to stop isn't he?" and the bus keeps rolling. Our border guard couldn't care less and is oblivious to the situation. Fiona and I stop and stare with our mouths wide open and realize - the bus driver is not going to stop. And the bus drives off!
Are you kidding me? Our bags are on the bus - we are in the middle of nowhere - it's about 4:30 in the morning, we're not far from a war zone, nobody speaks English, and we have been abandoned by the only connection to the outside world. Hey man, this really sucks! I have rarely felt so alone or isolate in my life.
What the hell are we going to do now????
I hate to do this, but the story gets even more complicated.
To be continued ...
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