What should have taken fifteen hours took closer to thirty-six. A delayed flight, then a missed connection, then a twelve-hour layover, then a reprieve, then an unscheduled trip to Athens, and finally back north to Tirana. Oh, Tirana. Tirana in flux. The Hong Kong of the Balkans. So much has changed, but this is the story of the world, and our job is to document. That’s it. It’s quite simple, really. Walk, look, think, record. Pen and paper. Pixel. Add, subtract, compile, spit and polish. Release like a dove on wedding day. If there were a word to sum it up, it would be “construction.” Entire blocks are gone. Our favorite market, gone. The entire roundabout, surrounded by some of our favorite places and restaurants, is gone. We retrace our 2023 route, searching for stone remnants of the past. Gone. I wave to a security camera, and the guard comes. I show him a spread from the magazines. He shakes my hand and says, “Restored.” They will end up in the new museum, but for now, they are faint whispers. Empty promises from behind the locked gate.
The city is buzzing.
Cafes, bars, and restaurants are buzzing. The streets outside the hotel are in lockdown. Foreign visitors come to see Eddie, who works next door. We are told to leave through a path at the rear of the hotel. “How long will you stay?” I ask the officer. “Ten PM,” he replies. “Then what?” I ask. “Then I go home,” he answers, looking tired and frustrated. It’s been this way for months now. Kick the hornet’s nest of the general public and find out what it feels like to be stung. The end is unclear, but the motive is not. A worldwide problem coming home to roost on an island just off the coast. An island that, it turns out, was not for sale. Americano greed heads learning the hard way.
Walking across an open space, I see an old man holding a pole. He is tentative, scared even, releasing his hand, leaning forward, then grasping the pole once again. Like a swimmer leaving the edge of a concrete pool for the first time. I walk back and extend my arm. His face lights up as he gently takes my arm. We push off into the unknown. He speaks to me, but I understand not a word. Rounding a corner, I see a bench with a small bag of goods. His home. We part ways, and I return to the hunt. Bunkers and billboards. Modern Albania on display.
These early days, before the workshop, are all about logistics. Elena, who has been coming here since 1991, juggles so many different needs that it’s difficult to comprehend until you are in the middle of it. Those who don’t lead this type of expedition will say things like, “How hard can it be?” At dinner, we begin logistics for a class in 2028, and there are uncertainties already; to a degree, we don’t even know if the class will be possible. No one does. Some countries require eighteen months in advance and full payment, regardless of detail. Others hold their secrets until the very end, making the entire experience tricky and stressful. We venture to one of our favorite restaurants… gone. A ten-story behemoth being built on its grave.
Albania is a lesson for the world, unfolding in real time, quickly. There is a feeling among visitors that now is the time. This is always painful. New, open, undiscovered- which is far from truthful- but to those with a passion for performance art, it can dirty the water. What gets lost are the locals. It is a privilege to be here, to share in their transition. We must step lightly, tread lightly, and always defer. Tourists bring limited time and great demand. They can turn the tide simply by showing up in mass. Expectation is the killer of compassion.
Our class begins tonight. We have a full schedule and sizable distances to travel. Urbanity will battle with rural expanse. Paved streets to high mountain passes. There will be editing, writing, exercises of all types, and time to think and talk. There will be doubt, uncertainty, and mini-breakthroughs. And most importantly, there will be the experience. Not to be trifled with. Experience and story. We will ask, “What’s yours?” So when we reengage with the outside world, we can share and explain.