I am a self avowed “ history-weasel “ . I enjoy investigating and ferreting out the real history behind events that shape humankind . I guess growing up in the US has something to do with that ; revisionist history is what they like ; so they can keep repeating it - they keep rewriting it ...
Slovakia is swaddled by the Carpathian Mountains. As the reader can see from the photo, the range comes up from its start in Romania and swings around to end in the west of our country. The northern flank forms the border with Poland, and the western edge is shared with the Czech Republic. When we explain the history of Slovakia, geography is one of primary importance. The Carpathians, are just a portion of the whole story. They drain their rainfall and thawing snows into the tributaries of the Vah and Hron Rivers, respectively, and then into the Danube. The mountains, arranged from north to south are as follows: 1) Tatra, 2) Fatra, and 3) Matra. The Fatras gird the center north of our country below the Tatra, and the Matras extend from the northeast of Hungary. All three ranges are part of the emblem of the Slovak flag.
Into this land, came many groups of people. The earliest dated materials are from 270,000 BCE; they are pre-Iron & Bronze Age artifacts. The Celts were among the people, coming around 400BC, and were the first to appear in written history. They colonized the the areas along the Danube and up its tributaries. As more of them arrived from Northern Italy, they forced the earlier groups northward into the more mountainous locales. I have been to Havranok above the Liptovska Mara (a reservoir built to prevent floods and provide hydro-electricity). Havranok is an open-air museum revealing the Celtic settlement there; it sits in the highlands above the mighty Vah River. They were to influence the spiritual and cultural communities on the northern edge of Rome until the end of the millenium. The time of tumult and change seems to begin in 60BC., when another group from the lower Carpathian/Black Sea region launched invasions into the Middle Danube. The Celts were forced further northward and usher in a period of Roman and Germanic incursions. This routine was carried on for some time, until the local tribes finally repelled the Romans who finally retreated, and installed groups of Quadi (Germanic tribes) to maintain a foothold on the left (north) bank of the Danube.
By mid-2nd century (350-75CE.), the Romans could no longer withstand the attacks of their neighbours in the frontier and the arrival of the Huns from the Eurasian steppes to the east, pushed large groups of the Germanic tribes out of the Middle Danube, and in the end the Huns would dominate the Carpathian basin until the middle of the 5th century. All of the tribes, Germanic or others, became subjects of the Huns. It is during this time (perhaps prior) that the early Slavs appear in the eastern areas of present-day Slovakia. These precursors to our ancestors would be part of a constantly shifting “great drama” playing out in the Carpathian Basin (also known as the Pannonian Basin), with acts and scenes being occupied by a cast of millions. It is important to make clear that Atilla”s Huns are not where the Hungarians are linked. Their name is based on the language they spoke – Finno/Ugric. The pronunciation could be a result of the sound changes when spoken…Ungarian (“oon-gar-yee-en”).
The period between the arrival of the Slavs and the Magyar inundation of the Pannonian Basin, was a scene of rising tribal empire aspirations, and the disappearance of those “mini-empires” altogether. The Magyars (antecedents of the Hungarian Kingdom…spoken “Mod-yar”) would eventually overcome all rival tribes, establish a kingdom, and subjugate the early-Slovaks for nearly 1,000 years.
In coming posts, I will lay before you how the Magyars overcame the surrounding cultural groups, built a kingdom, and held onto the “Upper Kingdom”, as modern-day Slovakia would be called. Between the 4th century and the 11th, there were many interesting events that took place, before the Magyar/Hungarians overcame the Slavic tribes. This history of ours is vast, the changes are without end, and we have only touched on a very small aspect of it. Also, I will humbly introduce my own theories of how much of Europe became populated, and an outlook on historiography as a whole. I am hoping the blogs will be a mixture of some of my deeds and exploits, with a “History Corner” at the end. I would be happy to hear comments from my readers on this decision. Your comments, dear readers, help me to sharpen my writing. Don’t be shy about letting me know what you think. Anything and everything you say will go a long way toward improving my attempts at being a better communicator. I promise there will be more photos as well. Thank you for being here..::bowing::
My hope with this post is to lay a simple sketch of how we came to be, and subsequent blogs will not be as “history-heavy”. Once again, if you want a fuller more complete picture – I suggest that you spend some time with Professor Martin Homza on his YouTube series. He makes much better sense of our sprawling history. They are entitled: Dejiny Slovenska/The History of Slovakia…there is a big red seal of “Katedra Slovensky Dejiny” (Department of Slovak History) in the search. Also, they are subtitled in English.
I would like to thank my friends in NW Indiana for their help writing letters of recommendations for my residency visa. There will be a formal “shout-out” to all those that have been kind enough to aid in this paper chase that I have been on for the last 5/6 months. The arrival of my bike and perfect Spring weather has gotten me a bit excited. I will post again in the next week. I promise it will a bit lighter now that we laid some of the groundwork for our incredible history going forward. Until then, I wish you all well, and I thank you for taking the time to follow me. Please take care of yourselves, and take care of each other. Namaste ::bowing::
Sticker on the delivery box for my bicycle…it says “a member of the group” clen skupiny.
My bicycle arrived yesterday. I shipped it on the 5th of April, just before I left the US; a 6 week (+/-) from Doma Travel in Palos Hills to Warsaw…to Bratisalva. Oddly enough, it arrived on the back of a bike! The shipping company delivered to a local bike shop, and that is exactly the shop that I have been visiting. The young man delivering the packaged bike conversed with Vlado, my landord, and he returned it to the shop. I have been stopping in and talking to Shimon the owner about re-assembling it and bringing it back to life. He has been nothing less than very cool about it; knowing that the bike is a classic…he is eager to see it. Many deliveries here in the Old Town are done by cycle and the 3-wheelers with a box on the back are a familiar sight. This morning (it is now 9:30am my time/2:30am in Chicago) I am going over to Suhaj (shoo-hi…sorry, no diacriticals) Bike Servis to see about it. At this point, I want to thank Jeff Piediscalzi and John Mican for taking such good care to secure my bike and ensure that I would have it here. Also, I have to acknowledge my old friend from the Erewhon days…Paul Weise. Paul has owned Jim’s Beverly Cycle Shop for many years. He and his crew disassembled the bike and boxed it up for the trip here to Slovakia. And…not to be missed is Bozena at Doma Travel & Shipping for getting it on the boat to Poland and ultimately here. Without any of their help, along the way, I would not have it here… And a shameless plug for Paul and Bozena here; if you are looking to buy a bike and you’re on the Southside, go to see Paul. Let him know that I sent you…the same for any travel or shipping to Europe – Bozena is fantastic!
This past week has kept me very busy, trying to navigate the various agencies here and in the US to corral my documentation for visa. It is coming together, at a snail’s pace, but it is coming together. I have many to thank in this endeavor, and I will include a “shout-out” section soon. I will follow this post with a short history lesson on The Slavs, Slovakia, and Central Europe. That blog will come this weekend; most likely on Sunday 21, May. I am learning more each day that I am living here. I am beginning to get a real sense of the Slavic/Slovak way of thinking, and I am starting to put a few words together to make phrases… but “hearing” it is still somewhat elusive. My friend Daniel and I met for supper the other night and had quite a discussion on the Slovak (Czecho-Slovak) Security Apparatus 1948/89-90. It his area of study, under Prof. Homza’s aegis and what he shares is many things; staggering, insidious, and even comical.
We are in full Spring mode here. The weather has been somewhat rainy, and cooler; in the mid-teens to 20C (60’s to 70F) and we expecting a full 24C (75F) this weekend. That means their will be Slovaks everywhere. I have to say that these are people that enjoy being outdoors a great deal. Sidewalk cafes are busy even when it is in the high-50’s(F)… most sit under massive umbrellas in the rain. I find it refreshing. The Stary Mesto (The Old Town) is getting swamped with turistov (tourists…there’s a perjorative term that I won’t use here), and they come in waves. The river cruise season is just beginning and the liners stack up on the Danube; Bratislava is a stop between Vienna and Budapest. The docks are a 5 minute walk to the main square and then into the Stare Mesto. It easy to spot them; they all dress alike, some are led by a guide wielding some sort of placard, and they bunch up right in the middle of the narrow streets of the “our” beloved place. My two greatest beefs I have are that they complain about having to wait for service in the sit-down cafe/restauracie, and no matter where they are from they can behave rudely. We have a much different pace here; a pace that I enjoy. Although not as slow as life in the Balkans, it is pretty chill.
Tomorrow I have a plan to visit our Slovenska Narodna Galeria (Slovak National Gallery). It is the equivalent of the The Art Institute of Chicago, or the New York Met. I have a day planned with Prof. Homza to visit it also, with his narration, but he is on a speaking engagement on the Balkans (Albania and Croatia) and we will do so when he returns. So, dear readers, I will have more from Bratislava on Sunday/Monday. Until then, thank you all for following me. Please take care of youreselves, and take care of each other.
Full moon over the Dunaj (Danube) on Friday night… 5 May, 2023
I have been a little remiss in posting as I am embroiled in my visa application. It appears that everything is in place except for the required FBI background check. In the mean time I have been working on my papers and enjoying the Spring here in Central Europe. The days have been very pleasant, in the high teens/low 20’sC (60/70F). Rain from day to day, has made the weather nice and cool. I have been enjoying time with friends, and have made a few new ones. My walks always begin or end along the Danube (Dunaj- pronounced “doon-eye” in Slavic) and I was fortunate to get the above photo the other evening.
It is 9:30 am here on Sunday (2:30 am CST/US), and I am getting ready to go out for some coffee, and to do a bit of grocery shopping. My front room is filled with near-dry laundry as I washed yesterday after cleaning and tidying. I love this small space; easy to tend to and just enough room to keep neat.
Our weekly dinners at Zlaty Jelen have become a high point in my week. This past Tuesday I was asked by my dear friend Prof. Homza to aid him in editing the last of his YouTube videos regarding Slovak history. He speaks in Slovak with subtitles in English. There have been a few “cringe-worthy” moments for me, while watching them and I’m incredibly honored and privileged to have been asked. Martin Homza is THE pre-eminent historian on all matters of Slovakia and Central Europe. It has been a godsend to have met him and to count him among one of my benefactors here. I acquired a greater understanding of our past, and in the process I have gained a clearer picture of my own ancestry. I would encourage anyone with Central European ancestry to watch his videos. They can be found under this title: Dejiny Slovenska (I. diel)/ The History of Slovakia (Part I). I’m not proficient enough to do the link, so this will have to suffice for the time being.
I have been doing research on my own papers; it seems as though I will publish them on Academia.edu. Prof. Homza has been a major contributor to the study, and he keeps me focused as my mind tends to run down “rabbit-holes” when I get a new idea. He is also among the many helping me to learn Slovak.
It has indeed been a very busy two or three weeks for me and I am hoping that I can return to posting once a week again. I look forward to any comments that you have and will use them in earnest while writing my blogs. I’m sorry this is not full of my exploits or deeds… it has been very quiet. When I am awarded the visa, I plan on taking a few trips inside of Slovakia, and perhaps to Prague early this fall. I thank anyone and everyone for following me, and I wish you peace. Until next week, please take of each other.
20, January 2023. I have not posted for quite a few months as I have been moving about my old home territory in the US, attempting to spend time with those I missed in the year that I have been living in Slovakia. At first, I’d like to point out how I have been entirely absorbed by living out of the US. The pace of life, the focus on quality over quantity, and overall experience suits me much better here in Slovakia. It took no time to fall back into the “run or die” aspect of living in the US. I look forward to my return to Bratislava. While here, I have contemplated my life’s goals, and sized up a different path when I return.
As fate has determined, I miscalculated my time in the EU and overstayed by a day or two. Upon checking in to fly home on 5 December, I was informed that I was denied access to the EU. In order for me to reset the clock, I am now staying out for 90 days. I also have legal counsel working on my residency visa. I have been assured that both strategies will provide the desired goal. As a result, I am staying with my ex-wife and daughter at my former home. The upside is getting to see my dearest daughter and my future son-in-law. Prior to this arrangement, I was staying with my son and daughter-in-law. If there are is a downside at all, it would be living in the same house as my ex-wife. It would seem that old behaviors die hard. I am continuously checking myself, because I do not want to exhume any of the feelings and mannerisms that I interred as I left last year. I will leave it at that.
While here, I was able to say goodbye to my English Mastiff… Zeus. He had long since run out of energy, but not the will. I have raised, trained, and lived with some 9 or 10 great dogs in my time at this house. Over the nearly 20-odd years, I had the best dog to leave here to stand able to keep my family safe and well occupied. Zeus was one of a kind. We adopted him from a Mastiff rescue. He was given to us by a woman that gave him up in heartbreak. She was called to care for her infirm parents in a small apartment and couldn’t take Zeus with her. He became best friends with our first Mastiff – Roy. Together they were quite a formidable pair. Always near each other, and always deeply involved in whatever was happening at the moment. Whether on the property working with me, watching over me as I did chores, or just hanging with friends – there were no two better companions. Roy left us in 2019 and we quickly adopted a 8-week-old female half Mastiff to lift Zeus’ spirits. Then-retired, I trained her in less than a summer’s time and she is now “Queen of the Roost”, her is Nika – short for Veronika. Zeus was let go right here in the house by a service and taken from us in an afternoon. I still look for him.
Now on 14 April, nearly a week since my arrival, I am once again back on Grosslingova street, in my perfect apartment in the east of the Old Town. We are experiencing typical Spring weather, it is raining steadily these last few days, and fair impetus to set about unpacking. I did my taxes for the U.S., went through the documents that I have to prepare for my visa application process, and generally settled in to the slower pace of life here for me. Although I will miss some aspects of the U.S., I am much more content here in Slovakia. There were no problems getting into the EU, despite the stigma surrounding my overstay. Now I won’t have to leave for 90 days, once my application is in I will be okay to stay for good. I have decided to “sit tight” this summer and save some money, instead of traveling around Europe. It will wait. I may travel to Orava in the north to see my family, and perhaps move around to see some of the places I haven’t experienced yet. It has been good to re-connect with some of my friends and I look forward to weather that will allow us to sit out and visit in the many coffee shops and eateries that populate the area.
I will write again next week to catch up with all of you. There is not a great deal to report at this point in time. I am slowly working back into my language practice, and I enjoy getting the help from my friends in this endeavor. Until I post again, I am grateful to all those who have been following, and I appreciate your patience. If I feel it, I will recount some of the time spent in the US; I would like to share the differences I felt. Please take care of yourselves, and take care of each other.
After nearly 4 days on the move, it is a strangely comfortable feeling to be here in the US. Following a 10 hour flight from Zurich, Switzerland my experience at O’Hare was a bit surreal. I felt like I was watching a bizarre film shot in another time and place. It was tempered a bit by having the new-found friendship of my seat-mate Stef. He is a young man from the Netherands on his way to New Zealand. His trip helped me to keep mine in perspective. We shared the flight together from Zurich to Chicago, and he was setting up for a transfer to a 16 hour airtrip to Auckland, New Zealand still to come after we parted. Somehow, I am still more impressed with the European youth than their counterparts from the US. They get out and travel, they embrace the world, and they do it with a curious smile.
My Son Cezar and his future wife Olivia
A tall early-20-something, Stef was fun to talk to; we shared some common experiences about backpacking and the outdoors, throwing a bit of politics and life in the conversation. After meeting Stef, as well as Max and Marcel (from my Belgrade to Bar train-trip), I feel as though I should stop denying my self the greatest joy and satisfaction of returning to the outdoors with a pack on my back. Since my “farewell to the US trips starting back in 2018, I have sworn off getting back into it as “I’m old and my body is worn out” trope and become my mantra. Having spent the incredible time in the mountain bujtina in Theth, and also meeting people of all ages taking on backpacking (some well older then me), I am infused with the energy that kept me backpacking…thank you all!….Geoff, Graham, Ingrid, Mattijs and Mariah, Max and Marcel, Michel, and Stef…you know who you are.
My daughter Ana and her Tony
After going through the emotional meat-grinder with “The Norwegian Goddess”, I decided thatI would spend my last month out of the EU with my children, my family, and friends to get reoriented again. It’s been nearly a year since I began my retirement in Europe, I thought it would bolster my spirits some to actually see them in person instead of Facetime. In spite of knowing in the back of my mind that it would be a slog to get to the US from Tirana, the cheap airfare was the deciding factor – too cheap to turn away from this opportunity. Little did I know, it was a 34 hour trip from Tirana to Zurich (20 hour layover), to Chicago. My faith in human nature was again put to the test by traversing the world’s airports, and watching more rudeness than kindness. Once again, “God’s hand” places me in the stead of someone like Stef, and although we were cramped in our seats, his good vibe and life story braced up my sinking feeling that this may my last trip back to the US for quite some time. Sitting in tight quarters is not my idea of fun, necessary, but not my best place….So thank you Stef – safe travels.
My Sister Suzka and TonyMy Brother-in-law Jim, and my cousin Randy and his wife Sandymy niece Laura, her husband Rob, and Mason – the newest member of our family.
I was lifted to see my daughter Ana and my ex-wife as well, last night on the way home from the airport. I will spend the next few days reconnecting with my family and friends. I am already looking at airfare for my return trip home to Bratislava. Hopefully Vlad, my best friend, landlord, and legal counsel will come for a visit as well and we will return home to Bratislava together. I am staying with Cezar and Olivka and luckily they have plenty of room. It will be quite a time.
Family and friends have always been at the heart of what I have been, done, and what I have become. In many respects my life is just as everyone else’s. The photos represent some of the people I have missed the most, at events that I have not been able to attend, and I wanted to illustrate some of those involved in the wrestling match that pops up from from time to time inside of me. Leaving them behind (esp. Ana &Cezar), was and has been, my greatest source of conflict within. I have been gifted with an incredible family, like firemen, ready to stand with me at every turn of my whimsy. They question me, they cajole and sometimes coerce me; always compelling me to look deep for the proper behavior and direction.
Being one of my kind that makes (and keeps) friends for life, my family sits at the core of my existence. If I am the burning inside, they are the surrounding mantle; like the earth, they encase the magma of my labors, thoughts, and being. Sometimes they add to my burning core, and sometimes they give me places to vent from the inside out. Always steadfast and solid, it is a great comfort to fling ideas and thoughts at them, and in return I get the intelligence, wit and peace from them. My best friend Greg has been there for me since the 1st grade. How many can say that? We have often fought fiercly, pushed and pulled each other, and in the end affirmed each other’s existence with love and grace. His family has been “my family” for nearly 60 years, and his Brothers and Sister are mine as well as his. My cousin Randy, no less. My earliest recollections of growing up have always included him. I have a Brother that preceds me by 6 years, but with Randy (as with Greg) the tether is every bit as old and has slackened and become taut as the years march on. As I have mentioned in prior posts, I have been gifted in the highest with a Brother and Sister with whom time has ironed out the wrinkles of “sibling rivalry/dysfunction” to reveal an extension of myself in two other people.
Surely this feeling of being in a movie by Bunuel or Fellini will wash away in the next few days. I plopped myself down in this strange but familiar culture, and I chose to do it freely. I will revel in reconnecting with everyone, take my time moment to moment, and goodness willing I will get a chance to see everyone that wants to see me. My mind goes back in fleeting fits to Theth, Tirana, and some of the places I have been recently. Always truly happy to be anywhere, I look at the surroundings and wish upon wish that they can be right beside me – seeing what I’m seeing, inhaling the breezes, and standing in shoes alongside me. I am here among them now, and will not waste the opportunity to tell them that I love them, and to thank them for always supporting me – no matter how cockamamy or off-the-wall my notions have been. This is my last post for some time. I will most likely not post while here, and will write again when I return to my home in Bratislava. Ever and ever; I thank all who take the time to read my ramblings and musing. I wish you safe passage, wheter you are traveling or not. Be well, and please take care of each other.
I’ve been in Tirana now for nearly 4 days and my mind always drifts back to Theth. Tirana is the capital of Albania, and its constant movement, noise, and people have me wondering why I didn’t stay a little longer in my dear mountain valley. I met Pavlin Polia last May when my friend Elton sent me on a tour of Valbonne and Theth to look at prospective rivers to fly fish. I blogged that trip in earlier posts, and I decided if I had to leave Slovakia again that I would return to Theth for a prolonged stay with Pavlin and his family. Although Theth sees a throng of hikers, it retains a wildness that is intoxicating. I can recall seeing both wolf and bear scat as I traversed the lower reaches of the Shala River. I recalled my numerous visits to Montana and Wyoming,and in their remote stretches having the identical flavor of Theth. Valbonne, just over the mountain is a great deal less populated, and wears its wildness proudly on its chest. I had planned to visit Valbonne, but after considering my financial bearings, I decided it would have be one or the other.
Pavlin (R), Vlora, their Son Tom, Arian, with Greta (far left back).
I have written extensively about my fishing excursions on the Shala that bore no fish, and I have also remarked about the incredible variety of people – “the cream of the world”- that I have met at Bujtina Polia. I want to focus this post on the staff, Pavlin and his wife Vlora, and my day-to-day mixing with them all.
Pavlin is a quiet man with an epic beard. He exudes patience, especially with my many questions, and he is surrounded by a warm aura at the same time. Vlora is just as patient and kind as a person can be; knowing that in my long stay I would need clean clothes, she instructed me to leave my wash near the door of the laundry room. After my first two weeks (I stayed nearly a month), I felt as if I was sort of family. Their attention would be given to everyone; my couple welcomed people through their open door with the same kindness, and open hearts that I was given.
In the kitchen! Vlora and Pavlin were everywhere. No task was a burden, and they switched roles seamlessly.
I was in awe of how quickly either would change roles and pick up a task that had to be taken on, with no grumbling, and without missing a beat. They could entertain quests, move to the kitchen and help with prep, serve, and clean up with the staff. One just doesn’t see this everyday; they worked together as a team…I wish I had this influence in my own failed marriage. I will truly miss them both until I see them again.
“Mirko”
Aside from Pavlin and Vlora, there is a wondeful staff made up of Greta, her guy Aldo, and Mirko. In the kitchen, when Vlora is away in Shkoder with the kids in school, Mikel and Marija ably put out Breakfast and Dinner each day. Some days there are just a few guests, other days and evenings there are upwards of 40+. The entire staff gives even the most mundane task or question their undivided focus. I know from my experiences in the hospitality industry in my earlier days, this is what makes or breaks a hotel, inn, or hostel. The devotion to serving the guests is unparalleled, and all five of them practiced this dedication without fault. “Mirko” is a young man with energy and focus. Aldo has a worldly ability to know what is needed at any moment, and became a great conversational comrade to me. Greta, a darling young lady, was in charge of the operation of the finer datails; the books, and payment of bills. She went beyond just housekeeping to make sure that everything was in place for a comfortable stay. This didn’t just apply to my near month-long dwelling, but for folks that would seem to appear out of nowhere for lunch or coffee. Nothing was beyond reach, they all committed with grace and poise, to even the most demanding guests.
Aldo and Greta
I am very glad that I chose to stay at Bujtina Polia; on days that the weather kept me from the river, I was able to read and write in the dining room, as well as my own room. I had the freedom to relax, unwind on the property, have a cup of Aldo’s coffee, and focus on my work. We always had the most hearty and solid meals for dinner. While I wsn’t going into the mountains like most of the guests, I always felt well-sated by the dinners. In the morning after Breakfast there would always be a side table with bread, meat, cheese, and veggies to make pack-lunches with. If I was headed to the river to fish, I would always avail myself of that table. The food is the purest and best I’ve eaten in a long time (the US not included, no quality there). For me, there was something very satisfying about having a small sandwich, or two, along the riverside, and then finish with a perfect apple. At least I had a full belly as the Albanian Speckled Trout denied and befuddled me.
Marija & Mikel
From the kitchen, the aroma of food would waft through the bujtina all day long. Marija and Mikel, were up early to have Breakfast out and would be up late cleaning the dishes and cook-space after our late dinners….again – the dedication. It was always a lift to greet them in the morning as I would get coffee first, head out to the fence-line to finish my chanting, and then head back in to refuel for the day. Until their children started school in Shkoder, Vlora was always a presence in the dining room, or on the patio. She has a quiet strength, and it is easy to see where the staff gets their dedication from. Pavlin was always on hand to answer questons from the trekking guests, and at time to clear routes with some of the guides. They are a dynamic duo, and they have made a great place to stay. When I talked to some of the other guests about their stay, they would brim with glee and state that they were glad they chose this place and wouldn’t hesitate to stay again.
Starters for Dinner
It is almost a 4 hour trip to Theth from Tirana, but it seems a world away now as I think back to the friends and acquaintances I met there. I have joined a “meet-up” group from the UK, and will look forward to a trip with them, backpacking and visiting far-flung provinces. Geoff and Ingrid (the whole group, actually) took me in as one of their own. I met a couple from The Netherlands, Mariah and Mattijs were great people to talk to and visit with. There are too many to list and I won’t fill this space. Although there were moments that I felt alone, I never felt lonely – there is a big difference. I always had short talks with Pavlin, or anyone else to stymie those feelings…I am very thankful for the experience that Bujtina Polia granted me. I had the time of my life fishing waters that I had no idea about, trying different flies and different methods. Coming away from the Shala River empty-handed was never bitter, after all, fly fishing is like Buddhism – “it’s the seeking, not the finding, that reveals the answers”. Upon reaching the patio, I was always greeted by one of the many dogs, and any number of guests. That alone bolstered my spirits. Every morning in the yard facing the “great wall”, I would finish my askance, and come back in to rub the prayer flag Pavlin had hanging in the dining room…just like home. He had been to Nepal in his travels, he grasped my devotion to Buddhism, and I am forever grateful for that peace and freedom to practice…(bowing).
Although there dozens of places to stay in Theth Valley, I will never consider any other shelter than Bujtina Polia. “Bujtina” is translated as inn or hotel. It can also be loosely inferred as “home”. Pavlin and Vlora made it my home at 700 meters. After my 4-day run through the ringer with the “Norwegian Goddess”, I was comforted by the Bujtina and those magnificent mountains. Pavlin wished me well before I set out after her, was a guidepost along the way, and welcomed me back when I rounded the patio. I would recommend Bujtina Polia to anyone traveling through the Peaks of the Balkans. No one knows the mountains better than Pavlin, and he is THE source for enjoying them to the fullest. Coupled with that knowledge, his warmth, and the overall standard he has set, Bujtina Polia is a must-stay in Theth. Thank you Vlora, Pavlin, and the incredible staff; I will return again and again…(bowing).
Mattijs and Mariah as they headed off into the mountains
Thursday, 22 September
My last post was about fly fishing yesterday, and I let go of the fact that I haven’t been able to land a Speckled Trout. I returned from the river in good spirits in despite having a good-sized trout on the fly only to have it snap the hook off and return to its life’s journey, and so instructing me to revert to mine. Standing at the agreed-upon spot for my ride back to Thethi, I watched as truck after truck went by to resupply the asphalt team laying a new road beyond me, down the valley. I was dropped off 4 hours earlier by Besmir, and we agreed that he would stop here to get me around 3 o’clock to take me back to Thethi. Thethi is the name of the actual settlement here in Theth National Park. To call it a town or village would be complete misnomers. There are 2 or 3 actual retaurants, and 1 grocery-type store. The rest of it is a crowd of bujtinas populating elbowing each other for guests. In a few years it will look like Aspen, or any other US mountain town. There is a rough gravel track, bearing little resemblance to a road yet, and only slight drainage when it rains.
While I was waiting for more than an hour, the road manager of the asphalt company approached me and in broken-English explained that no traffic would be coming through until much later. He asked if I was going to Thethi and I nodded, he asked if I wouldn’t mind riding up in one of the massive, four-axle dump trucks, and I shrugged and said yes. I offered him some money and he scowled, I apologized for the disrespect as this is how the Albanians are. They will help if they can, or they will find someone who will. The next truck would be mine. The breeze had increased to fluttering my coat and nearly pushing my hat off my head. I knew that it would be a long walk back to Bujtina Polia, at 12/13km (7/8miles), and it was mostly a grinding ascent. After hopping from rock to rock along the river, and scaling the steep banks, I was well shot physically.
Jimmy pulled up and I clambored up into the cab, with him taking first my fly rod, then my daypack. Again, I asked with no disrespect if I could offer him something for the ride… maybe beer/coffee money, but he refused. His English was very good and after introductions we began to talk about truck driving. I told him that I drove a Mack truck in and out of Chicago and the surrounding area for 33 years and he was in awe. I was in awe of his skill with our Mercedes behemoth. The road was sheer drop-off and barely wide enough for him to expertly navigate. We did the “Brother handshake” as he wished me well. I then began my walk from Thethi up to my bujtina, about a 4k (2.5miles). Looking up and around, I marvelled at the continiously-changing scenery, as the gusty weather was driving clouds in front of the sun and over the peaks, giving the feel of a time-lapse film as I stumbled up and down the rocky track.
The patio, the dogs, and our staff always welcome me as if I had lived here forever. I am always swaddled in their warm embraced, never feeling like a stranger, and offered something to eat or drink upon my return. As I came around the corner onto the patio, I met Geoff, a guide from the UK, and we began chatting. He was an affable man and we got on well as we discussed mountains, travel, people, and our past exploits. Geoff was co-leading a group that was well-peppered with folks from all professions and heritage. Later on when we were assembling in the dining room, I went to the little side table that I occupied most often. The staff and I call it “the little boy’s table”; it has become a running joke among us. The groups that come through here are, for the most part, very insular and exclusive. Every now and then, I will be invited to “the big boy’s table” and join whomever I had connected with earlier, or if there was more space due to smaller groups. The night before, I was invited to join Mattijs and Mariah, a grand couple from the Netherlands. It is not usual for me to be asked to join at the big tables, but every now and then, I am able to sit with “the cream of the world” as I have them. This was definitely the case with Mattijs and Mariah, and tonight with Geoff and his group.
Mattijs and Mariah were among the nicest couple of people I’ve met yet. They are from the Netherlands and really enjoying themselves here in the Balkans. Our conversations were spirited and open, with neither of us having to hold back. I will miss them. Meeting people like them really helps me to get through my odyssey. Later on, after talking to Geoff, he and his lady Ingrid plucked me from the “little boy’s table” and into their group. We pushed chairs down and I squeezed into the group. I was amazed at the life-stories of my table-mates. Geoff and Ingrid, among a couple others, have been leading these “meet-up” groups and hiking/trekking/walking through various parts of the world. I realized a bit of a common thread that runs through most of our lives here. We are on some sort of journey; to replenish, to seek, and to shake off the dust of our lives. The length and breadth of careers among us is varied and vast. Retirees and people actively still working, trying to reset their compasses as it were, and the opportunities to meet people you may not in everyday life. Mattjis spoke of many places near them to get out and enjoy the outdoors. I was surprised, as I am not that familiar with the Netherlands to know how much open space they have at their disposal. My group from the UK was the same in their touting of the innumerable sites to get out and enjoy a walk or more. As I sat and listened to some speak about their travels and travails, it was a modern Homer’s tale of broken-pledges, mis-directed hopes, and sirens and monsters.
The group from the UK. Geoff is on my left, Graham, my right, and the two Steves beyond him. In red is Reg, born and rasied in Baltimore, now living in the UK…they were a true joy to be with.
I also met Paul and Pip from the UK, and they were nothing short of endearing and sweet. They regaled me with stories of their travels all over the world. After doing Antarctica in 2023, they will have been on every continent on the planet. At our table, I was positioned between Ingrid and Steve, across from Geoff and Reg. Reg was born and rasied in Maryland, spent most of his life around the US as an exec, and retired to the UK. Reg is one of many US expats I have met here in Albania, and our reasons for living in Europe are nearly identical. As a solo traveler, it is an immense joy to be welcomed into a group, and to have intelligent conversation about anything and everything. Eleanor Roosevelt is commonly known to have said, “great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; and small minds discuss other people”. I’m paraphrasing, of course, but I have always tried to adhere to this principle. Here, in meeting the cream of the world, we rarely go any lower that the “events” portion of Mrs. Roosevelt’s adage. Being grateful for this experience never eludes me, and I give thanks in a constant manner, both inward and outward. After talking to the staff, they all agreed that the UK group (Geoff’s group), were one of the best groups to come through since June. I think it’s pretty high praise, considering the amount of people I have witnessed come through the door. I will see Geoff and Ingrid in the future. Geoff has actually swung me on SE Asia; A place I was certain to avoid because of the heat and sun. Thank you Geoff!
I have been reading Homer’s Odyssey, I think it is only fitting, and I have been through some of Odysseus’ trials. I am not sure if I can claim ownership of the Trojan horse, nor have I shoved a stake in the eye of the Cyclops, but I can fully grasp the loneliness, and the sporadic good fortune mixed with confronting people and events that test my resolve. I will omit my lost weekend with the Norwegian goddess a week removed from now. Let’s just say it involved a trip all the way down to Tirana, two pairs of socks, and a lost bank card… we will leave it there.
Monday 25, September
As of this moment, on Monday morning, I am in the dining hall watching a group load up to head off into a pouring rain. It has turned cooler, and fall will be fleeting as the rain we had dusted the remote peaks with snow. The rule is if it rains down here, it is snowing up there. I leave here a week from tomorrow, 4 October, and I will truly miss everyone here. The next post will entirely cover the staff, Pavlin and Vlora, and my inclusion in this place.
The South end of the gorge from the open floodplain, looking back North up the Shala River into Thethi.
In the end, it has been a wonder-filled trip here to Theth. From stepping onto the bus at Nivy in Bratislava, to Belgrade, the train to Bar Montenegro, and my transportation to this Shangra-la has been nothing short of an Odyssey that continues yet to Tirana next week. The people I have met have been , for the most part, long on kindness and warmth. I am a European now. I have reset my standards of living and desire more than the US could ever offer…better quality of food, less work, less pay, more “being present” in life, and the lives around you. I will post from Tirana, once I have settled into my apartment in Blok. Thank you for following me. Please take care of yourselves, and take car of each other.
I have been here in Theth for nearly 3 weeks and still cannot believe it. The scenery is spectacular, the visitors are never-ending, and the trout are still elusive. I remain determined to catch one, and have narrowed down to three flies that the trout are attracted to. If I could get quick enough to actually set the hook, I would at last land one. A few days earlier, on the lower Shala, where the canyon opens up to a broad, flat rocky plain, I was granted an entry into the very private world of the speckled trout. I stood on a VW-sized boulder and cast a bright yellow stonefly midge (the correct terminology would be “Flasher Yellow Pupa”). From the shadow beneath a boulder, and into a faint boiling pool, came two dark speckled trout. I kept my cool as first one , and then the other chased it down and then swam back to the shadow. This feint and retreat went on all afternoon. I went from pool to pool, boil to boil, and had nothing to show for it but a serious tan from the unrelenting Balkan sun. I had hiked the roughly 7k long road, up and down until settling onto a meadow at the point where the gorge peels away from itself on the western side.
The dance has gone on for three weeks now, and I have come to the conclusion that if we are going to bring fly fishing to Theth and Valbonne, it is better left to the local guides, with their flies and the local techniques they would practice. I have decided that there is no chance that I could guide outside fisherman, owing to the fact that I don’t have the knowledge of the local bugs, and I have only now begun to “crack the code” with the trout in the Shala River.
The Speckled Trout are rising to the only two flies that I have left, and after pitching all the flies in my arsenal, it comes down to two Chubby Chernobyls. The large Wooly Buggers (size #8) draw only passing interest, and anything else that’s “wet”, has to have at least a bead-head on it, or the fish will turn away immediately.
The most galling part of this experience is the fact that I can draw the trout out of the boils and eddys, pull them into the light, tempt them to hit my fly, and be ready for the strike – but it all falls apart as they close in. These gorgeous trout, speckled like swimming leopards, are equally confused by all of the dry flies that have hit the water above them. My “can’t miss” Adams, Parachute Adams, and all Blue Wing Olives are lost on my swimming quarry. In the end, it is the Chernobyl Ant, and the Chubby Chernobyl Hopper; they are smaller (size 10 to 14) and activate the fish.
At the end of the day, I will persevere; I know the fish are here in this river, and I finally understand how to find them. They lurk in the boiling waters behind massive rocks that stand like sentries in the fast moving bouncing flood of this gorge. I see them where the gorge opens into the flat plain heading down and out to the Koman Reservoir, and then into the Drina River to fill Lake Shkodra. From high up in the Albanian Alps, in peaks shared with Montenegro, fall the water. I hear this ancient watercourse at night through my open window as it lulls me to sleep, filling my dreams and at times haunting me. I am reminded of my favorite line from Norman Maclean’s “A River Runs Through It”: “Eventually all things merge into one and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters…”. Since discovering fly fishing and trout at an early age, I have been eternally held rapt by their lives in the moving liquid, clear in my mind as thoughts, as cold as a body can stand, and always luring me from the places that I dwell. I credit my Grandfather and my Brother John, and my dear departed Brother Steve for incubating the love and curiosity in me for fly fishing.
I will be leaving Theth, and the Shala in two weeks to cover my obligations in Tirana. This will be my last post regarding fly fishing, and I just want to assure the few dedicated readers that have been following this journey – that I will return to things perhaps more interesting to them. I love fly fishing as much as reading, writing, or playing the drums. For me, fly fishing makes me feel a bit perspicacious, simply because it is dually complex and simple in practice. My senses and mind see and process the difficult, and unobvious aspects of this life. It allows me entry into a focus on the circle of my existence, and involves moving meditation on my part. All senses are cued to the wind, the water, the sounds of life around me… and images and visions that are availed as a result of it.
Thank you all for joining this wonderful adventure. In my next post I will try and recount some of the highlights of my trip to this point. While here at Bujtina Polia I have met the cream of this world, people from far and wide, taking part in the best coffee/dinner conversation I have had in many years, and along the way I have been enlightened. I have been deeply gifted. Please take care of yourselves and each other.
Without knowing the entomological basics here in the high mountains of Albania, I have been dwelling in a house of trial and error. The local fishermen use “spoons” with a treble hook. The spoons spin, and cause a reflection, imitating a small fish or shiny bug, and the trout hit it. By contrast, I am using artificial flies, trying to mimic a particular stage of a bug’s life. There are 4 different stages that insects go through in development. They are as follows: 1) Nymph – when the insect first comes out of the egg. 2) Emerger (or Emerging) Stage – when the insect is just coming out of the water with wings and still apt to hang around the surface of the water. 3) Adult (or Dry Fly) – the insect has reached adulthood, is fully winged and is searching for a mate in or near its home waters… and 4) Spinner – the insect has mated, passed on, and is floating around on the surface of the water. Spinner can also be used to describe an insect that hasn’t made it past the emerger phase stuck in their shells, or having a hard time flying.
There is a maxim in fly fishing called “match the hatch”, and the idea is to come as close as possible to mimicing the bugs the trout know and will feed on. While I have been getting strikes on the flies that I have been casting, my biggest problem seems to be speed. I am still not quick enough; the trout here, speckled and rainbow, are much more wily and demand guile and invention from a fly fisherman. So far, this has been the most difficult fishing I have ever attempted. I know full well that it would be no problem to throw a spoon into a pool and yank out out a trout. What game is there in that? The trout up here spook very easily, and it would be easy to stand over a boiling pool and drag a spoon through it, and nail a trout.
Without a guide, and with my Balkan entomology lacking, I am at the mercy of the river, and ultimately the trout. I have used the time-honored method of turning over rocks to see what is hatching, or emerging, but this has not yielded much information. So, the burning question is – what is the missing link here for me? Beside the fact that I have to get quicker on the strike, the question remains: what is the fly at this time of year that the trout will strike with zeal? Because this is the first a many essays on fly fishing in the Balkans, it is imperative that the reader does not think me impatient, or even greedy. Fly fishing for most of us is a contemplative pursuit. Included in the familiarity with bugs, and the often difficult access to trout waters, fly fishermen usually stick to the theory that the pursuit is more important than the catch itself. When I tell people that I have never eaten a trout that I have caught, they cannot grasp the concept. I am always faced with, “then why do you fish?”. The best answer I can offer is that I put myself in the cycle (circle?) of nature, without trying to “conquer” it, or “control”, or even to “change it”. These three reasons alone are enough for me to continue to fly fish. I am of that ilk that can look at one hundred square miles of forest and appreciate the beauty of it all, without saying…”man, look at all those trees – thanks a lot of money in lumber”. The previous three reasons are also a human reaction to the natural world. For this fly fisherman, our pursuit is a way to keep those shackles unlocked and open, so we can truly appreciate where we are.
Sunrise over “The Great Wall” from the patio at Bujtina Polia
I did not fish this morning after meditation. I wanted to get this post done. There are some places that are considered “morning” or “late afternoon/dusk” trout waters. I have had strikes in the boiling pools of the Shala River here in Theth, also in the side pools of the descending runs of the flats in the mid-day and the heat of the Autumn Balkan sun.Up here at nearly 750m (2,440ft.), the altitude clarifies all things. The scenery is some of the most spectacular I have ever seen. That is taking into account all of the mountains I have seen in the US and Europe. I hope that more fly fishers take the trip up here and the other mountain rivers Albania has to offer.
This post is the first in a series of at least three that I plan to write considering Albania’s fly fishing options. I will go out later this afternoon and continue to search for the missing link, between what I think I know, and what actually works to land trout here in Theth. I am grateful to be in pursuit of such answers in this beautiful place. In the waters I am used to fishing – Montana and Wyoming – the trout attack most flies like a Great White shark goes at a seal. Here in the Albainian Alps, and most of the places I have wet a line in Europe, the trout have a tendency to be more demure. The link between where I am and where I would like to be lies with these coy and crafty mountain trout. There are other resources beside trial and error to teach me, and I intend to experience them first-hand. My stay at Bujtina Polia is quite enjoyable, and comfortable, Our meals are more than enough to keep our active engines running, Vlora is supremely imaginative, and we never eat the same thing twice.
Until we meet again, I wish you tight lines, blue skies, and a cozy place to rest your bones. I will continue to look for the missing link in the chain up here in Theth Valley. Be well and thank you for reading.
Into the mountains, with one last look at the Adriatic Sea.
Friday, 8 September. This morning early, today’s rain moved in ahead of schedule…that’s life in the mountains. I will fish today, but I am wisely going to hold off until the lightning moves on. Common sense would dictate that standing in a lightning storm with a long stick studded with metal, is just not prudent. The fish will be there. I went out yesterday after getting settled in here in Theth. I was reminded very quickly of the difference between the trout in the US and their cousins here in Europe. The European trout are much more wily and they don’t attack the fly like they do in the mountains of the western United States. Yesterday the score was: Albanian trout 4/ Niel 0.
I would like to finish the rest of my journey, to the end point so far. Wednesday 6, September I left Bar Montenegro. I explained that I was going to drop the idea of the train and bus; the idea of traveling North to go South didn’t make good sense. Yes it was incredibly cheap, and yes I would see more of the countryside. Bar lies almost directly west of Shkoder, a one hour (+/-) drive, and I thought it would’ve been fun to drive it. I talked to Zuzana at the front desk about this prospect, and she quickly connected me to Dusan (Dushahn). He was concerned with “manual or automatic transmission” and the price was 60 euros. I thought that even though it was twice the cost of train/bus, it would be fun to drive, and stop and look at some sites that Elton (Albaniantrip.com) had pointed out. Well, Dusan was at my hotel right on time, very nice fellow, and as we were looking over a very sporty little Peugeot, I asked him where I would drop the car in Shkoder. Dead stop. Apparently they don’t rent cars from country to country here. If so, it would be 7/800 euros. A day rental was 60 euros and a great bargain. We laughed at my miscommunication, and he was very kind about it.
Now with gear in hand, I trundled back into the hotel and saw Jazzmina, at the front desk. I had just checked out, and we had spoken. Her face looked troubled as I reappeared. I explain to her what had just happened, and she smiled as she reached for phone. We were talking about shared experiences earlier, as I had worked in hotels in my younger days. It was all about problem-solving. She spoke to Emil (eh-mil, or eh-mi), and she got excited as she hung up. “My friend Emil is going to Shkoder today, as luck would have it…does that sound good?” I couldn’t believe my luck. “He is asking 50 euros, and I told him no problem, because I knew you were going to pay Dusan 60 euros for the rental car”, her voice trailed off. I said, “ano”, and insisted that she take the 10 euro difference for her. After a back and forth, she relented. Very sweet, and very smart, the qualities that ring true for me. I thanked her profusely, and she came around from the desk to give me a kiss on both cheeks to wish me well
Before we knew it, Emi was walking in the door. His English was good, and we worked through with basic Slavic root words. Thank goodness that I have begun to grasp Slovak, it really helped. Emil was driving a sleek 5-series BMW. “Wow!…really?” was my reaction. He shrugged like it was no big deal. We loaded my bag into the trunk and he insisted that I sit in the front passenger seat. Emil asked if it would be ok if we stopped at his house to pick up his luggage since he was going to stay in Brajse (bry-shuh), just inside the Montenegrin border from Albania. I told him it was no problem, of course. To my great surprise he lived in Stari Bar (Old Bari). It is a very famous fortress town, and a trip that I missed with Marcel and Max the day prior. It was incredible! Very beautiful hillside fortress, overlooking the modern Bar down below and the Adraitc Sea. Of course it was his home town, so we stopped alot and talked to his friends, and yelled as we exchanged horn-toots with others in town. It was clear that we weren’t going to take the highway as we began to climb up into the coastal range. As we weaved in and out of mountain shadows, windows down and a perfectly dry 75F day with music blasting…we talked, pantomimed, and laughed our way through a laid-back and scenic drive to Shkoder.
Stari Bar. Founded on top of an old Roman town known as Antivarium, it lies at the base of Rumija (roo-me-yah) Mountain. Stari Bar was ruled by many and held by few. Most notably, the Ottoman’s bear the bulk of it’s history.
Coffee break with Emi in Brajse…with the mountains that ring Shkoder in the background.
At Brajse, the innkeeper insisted that we have a coffee and rest for a bit. He spoke English, German, French, and of course Albanian and Montenegrin. Azo was very nice, and upon learning that I decided to retire in Europe, announced that coffee and water (sparkling) was on him. Emi joked that it will show up on his hotel bill, and Azo smiled. There was never any hint of hurry, and when all had been consumed, we bid him farewell, Emi would return here later. We jumped into the Beemer and headed for the border. We smiled because there were no cars as well pulled up to the post, the guard smiled as Emi told him what I was doing, welcomed us to Albania, and in 20 minutes were winding through Shkoder. Emi found my hotel, “Petit Hotel Elita”, Pavo set me up, and I spent 64 euro for a suite. Emi wished me luck, handed me his card, as I pressed another 10 euro into his palm. He put up a valiant fight, but I won in the end. He drove off, honked once and disappeared down one of the narrow alleys.
After a short chat with Marija, my front desk head, I stumbled into my suite, and couldn’t believe my luck…again. I truly believe that some of the snags that I encountered along the way, were easier handled because I may have access to a bit more money than most travelers. It has helped to no end, and I am by no stretch a rich man, I have saved, and I am careful to not broadcast it. I cooled down in my suite for an hour as it was much warmer down in Shkoder (85F/30C). I actually watched tv for the first time since I arrived last December. Aside from going to a coffee house to watch football or Formula One, this was the first time that I pointedly turned on a television. I have one in my apartment and it has never been on. I spoke to Marija on my way out for a bite and she confirmed that I had a reservation for the minibus to Theth the next morning at 7am. Thanking her (bowing), I headed out onto the streets of Shkoder.
Shkoder sits on the shore of Lake Shkodra, the largest lake in Southern Europe. Lake Shodra is shared with Montenegro, and is split evenly by the two countries. Shkoder is a brawny, up-and-coming town in northern Albania, and besides being one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the Balkans, it is also considered to be the “Gateway to Theth National Park”. The architecture of Shkoder is dominated by both mosques and churches, it is very diverse, and the mood is very ebullient and light. I was looking for surf slippers to fly fish with, and despite the language, all the shopkeepers were very warm and accommodating. I didn’t find them, but they weren’t key. Lunch was a pizza and sparkling water, it set me back 7 euros ($7.10). Now superbly sated, I wandered back to Hotel Elita a sweating mess, addressed Marija, and laid out in the air conditioning watching a football match. I slept hard for three hours. My trip with Emi was a fun-filled 2 1/2 side trip to Shkoder arriving at 1230/1 o’clock. I awakened at 5pm, and took a cool shower, feeling refreshed, and headed out to take a walk in the breezy warmth of early evening. If midday seemed busy to me; now there were people everwhere. Families with kids, young women dressed well on their way to a party or disco perhaps, and always the older folks milling about the innumerable cafes. The cafes, with the rich smell of coffee and tobacco wafting and then lingering in the soft warm evening breeze, what a heady mixture for this midwestern boy. There is something here in the Balkans, an intangible, that has a sense of the exotic for me. “Two worlds colliding”, if you will. This land has an incredibly “ancient” feel about it. I know..I know, I have stated this many times, but for someone who revels in a connection with the past, to be standing in it, eating it, consuming it , and in turned being consumed by it… is a dream come true.
The Albanian Alps on the up and over to Theth
Of course I didn’t sleep on Wednesday night, in anticipation for my drive to Theth early. Thursday morning I was up early at 5am in order to meditate and chant prior to the start of my day. I re-packed the evening prior and was set to go at 6:45am. I said goodbye to Marija, and promised to stay again at Petit Hotel Elita, and loaded into a car to be taken to the bus. My driver for the minibus was Zimi, and this wasn’t what I expected. I thought I would be in one of the little 4×4 Mercedes buses from the ’90’s…yeah but they are so beat up they look like they are from the ’60’s or ’70’s. Zimi’s minibus was a newer model, and in great shape. We drove out of Shkoder and swung northwest around the lake to Koplik, and then veer to the northeast into the Albanian Alps. As we ascended, I could look down and saw Shkoder, lying alongside the glistening lake, and ringed with a lofty necklace of mountains. I could also see the Buna river meeting the Drina and turning 90 degrees into Lake Shkodra.
The “Great Wall” from Bujtina Polia’s patio
As I walked down the driveway to Bujtina Polia, Pavo appeared out of a mass of Germans, and smiled ear-to-ear. We bowed to each other and I gave him a big hug. Bujtina in Albanian means “inn or hotel”, or more simply put “home”. I am home now until at least the end of September, and maybe a week or so into October, that is unless Pavo and Vlora get tired of me and I get booted. Thursday was spent decompressing, and about 1:30pm I got on the water. I found a nice pool among sharp falls in a steep drop. First cast, strike but I wasn’t quick enough and missed him. I stayed with the pool and lost another two strikes. Further down the river became less steep, but the pools were non-existent. I went with a smaller fly, and still was not quick enough to bring the strike home. Done in by the relentless Balkan sun after almost 3 hours, I hiked back to Bujtina Polia, retired to the patio with an Italian lemon soda, and the shade. The bujtina was inundated with a massive group of Germans, and dinner last night was their last night and a loud, alcohol-fueled din filled the hall. Our meals here are beyond imagination. Vlora and the staff put on a full spread for both breakfast and dinner. I am quite used to these breakfasts with fresh cows milf and granola, tomatoes, slaw, eggs (hard-boiled & scrambled), breads, and coffee. Breakfast is included with stay. There is always a side table overflowing with meats, cheeses, fruits and vegetables, and yogurt spreads; this is the “pack-a-lunch” table.
One of the “classic minibuses” being loaded with the departing Germans, on a rainy morning. Friday, 6 September.From my window…the river is just over the blue car
…. and now we are all caught up. I have had a great time getting here, and the journey continues. Although I am nestled here in Theth, everday seems still a passage to somewhere else. I have yet to take a hike down to “Theth proper”. It’s a nice 1.5km (+/- 1 mile). It is 1:30 here (6:30am/Chicago) and the clouds are becoming lighter. I am going to venture further down the river. I had not intended to write a post of this length, and so soon after my last post, but I will busier from here on in. There have been several requests for more pictures and once I learn how to get the photos into my WordPress cache, I will populate the posts with a few more than usual. For once in my life, I am writing for you the reader, please feel free to let me know what you like. Since I began writing in my teens, I have always considered writing a “personal exercise in art”, I was not interested in being read, and worked at crafty an expression of my own art. I am now in some sort of umbral stage, where I am writing from inside the shadow of my own sun. I would like to be read. It should be known also, that the following posts will be geared a bit more to the fly fishing world and a bit less on my travels and travails. My goal is to let the world know about the fly fishing here in Theth, and Valbonne should I get there on this trip. The waters are wild, and the conditions are a bit more difficult than anything I’ve fished in the past. I will be plugging Bujtina Polia shamelessly, and my many connections along the way.
I am grateful for those of you who are taking the time to follow me. I am cautious to keep my posts short as I know most you don’t have a great deal of time. There will always be exceptions to that rule. It is time to get on the water and figure out how to land an Albanian Trout. I wish you all well, and thank you for staying with me. Please take good care of yourselves, and take care of each other.
One World , One Muddyslovak 