Here is the first part of our adventure in Kelmend - North of Albania.
Continue your reading with Trolls of Kelmend - Part II and Trolls of Kelmend - Part III
The news was overflowing with warnings about a snowstorm hitting the north of the country. That abundance of snow meant also a high chance of risk for anyone adventurous enough to want to drive in the middle of a snowstorm. But, we, as residents of a city like Tirana, which hasn’t seen snow in ages, were bursting with a desire to go and dive deep into the snow from head to toe. Our boring capital didn’t offer anything more exciting than the usual grey sky and the constant dull rain.
Both of us needed in our core to see the snow, to touch it, to feel it, to swim in it, to play with it, and to feel the burning heat of the ice, and the sensation of a real tough winter.
The kind of winter that I never experienced since I was a child. With heavy snow weighing over the roofs, bending down trees, and hiding under its cover the old life we used to know—the white canvas of our wildest imagination. Snow is a magical mystery, full of untold stories.
Winter in the city is boring not just because of the rain and humidity. It has this kind of flair of putting you into a sleepy floppy mood, sucking up all your energy, and giving you the shape of an inactive-incompetent-yeasty-dough, that crawls slothfully from one couch to the other.
Storm or no storm, we needed to go. After some superficial Google search, we decided to go up north, more precisely to Lëpusha, located in Kelmend's region. My job was to take care of our accommodation, book the cottage, ask the right questions, and prep the bags.
My husband instead had to check the car and study the road from start to finish with the help of his inseparable friend, Google Maps.
After more than an hour of being completely immersed in the search for the perfect cottage, I hear my phone ringtone singing in the background: “Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao”…
I picked up the phone. It was him. With the deepest regret, he informed me that his car had some problems with the *ghdghsgdsh* and we couldn’t drive it to our destination. I don’t know why, but every time I hear someone talking about their car using technical words, I can only hear *ghdghsgdsh*. Even some weeks ago, when the car service guy checked my car, explained to me that the cause of that horrible sound coming from my car, was because of the toe link in one of its tires. What I heard was just *ghdghsgdsh*. And then I went home and told my husband that my car had a problem with her feet. True story.
When he told me about his car, we understood that we had only two options available in front of us: we could either postpone our trip for the upcoming weekend, or we could use my car.
For everybody who might be curious, I drive a small blue Ford Focus, with a sneaky black cat tattooed on its bumper, and that family and friends refer to her as Buki. That’s right, Buki. Even my husband used that name when he was ranking our alternatives.
̶ I think you should call the host of the cottage you just booked and ask him what kind of car is advisable to take according to the weather. So we can decide if we should take Buki to get there or postpone our trip to next week.
The host reassured me with absolute certainty that even though it's snowed for days, the roads were completely clean from snow and ice. He also told me that there wasn’t the need for snow chains and that we could drive up to the cottage’s doorstep, - dry, warm, and happy.
The level of my trust struck 100% and not because of the words that I heard on the phone from the host, but because of my uncontrollable desire to take that trip on that precise weekend.
When I forwarded the information to my hubby, that evening, he gave me a suspicious look. If the snow hadn’t melted yet, it meant that temperatures were below zero, which translated to a very high chance of ice on the road. We both were aware of that possibility, but we are adventurers and we always love a little bit of risk in every trip we take.
After we made up our minds that we would take the trip that weekend, with Buki, I packed all the thickest clothes and made some sandwiches for us to snack on along the way. I’m a foodie and I always make sure to have something to eat during trips. Food is not just the primary basic need of our body, but also therapy. It gives me joy, tranquility, and pleasure. These are basically the exact same words a drug addict would use to describe his addiction. So, yeah, there you have it… I’m a food junkie.
The following day we left Tirana’s grey sky and dim light and headed to our much-awaited winter. I took with me the fluffiest coat I had and the woolen scarf that could have been easily mistaken for a blanket.
The road started with great energy and laughter, and we kept it that way throughout the whole drive. We were so happy to finally see some snow and enjoy the winter we were so craving for. Comfortable settings can get exhausting in the long run. We as humans are not used to staying in one place all the time. We are nomad creatures, we need to explore new endeavors, experience new emotions, make new memories, and try to disclose unfamiliar situations without fear. Or as Yes Theory calls it, we need to seek discomfort.
The more we were getting closer to our destination, the more the sky was clearing up. The grey clouds were slowly disappearing and, the infinite space above our eyes looked promising for an epic starry night.
When we arrived in Shkodër, the last civilized city from that point on, it looked like spring was just around the corner. Warm weather, clear skies, streets full of people, houses with open windows, and babies in their strollers wearing light thin clothes.
I looked at my bag behind me. 'Do I really need all those thick clothes with me? What if the owner of the cottage was wrong? Or worst, what if the snow was already melted?'
My heart sank for a second, but it immediately throbbed back excitingly as the view in front of us appeared. Leqet e Hotit!
We stopped the car and walked to the small panoramic spot, that could easily be missed when passing the turning point. There was this small balcony made of wood and glass, extending from the edge of the road over a deep hollow space. The landscape was spectacular!
I felt like I was on top of the world. In front of me lay a great valley, surrounded by enormous mountains, with huge canyons, leaning side by side with one another. It gave me goosebumps. The heavy stubborn wind that was blowing my hair in the air, spreading it like tentacles, was freezing, but standing in front of that scenery, made us immune to the cold.
High mountains, winding roads that curled slowly over the ridges of the mountains, climbing on top of them, quietly, slowly, without making a fuss. It looked like they intentionally built the road that way. To not wake up the trolls sleeping in the mountains. Owners of that biblical-idyllic land. They felt our presence, as we were the only ones there. They gently shook their muscles as some small stones and dirt rolled down the crest.
Cluelessly we were standing on that balcony, holding hands, feeling the adrenaline rushing in our veins. Pleasantly we were looking at the landscape without even knowing that the Trolls of the mountains woke up, opened their eyes, and quietly stared at us.
Continue your reading with Trolls of Kelmend - Part II
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