Along the way I notice some crumbling 'pillboxes' or bunkers and ask Dhendri whether they are from WWII, or later. The question seems to disagree with him, however, as he mutters 'there's nothing there' and drives ferociously six times round the same roundabout. Whether he's offended or superstitious I daren't ask, clinging onto my seat as best I can...
Orange trees and black chickens
The roads are wide and quiet, soon we arrive safely at Dhendri's friend's restaurant and go up to meet the family in the apartment above it: a couple with two young children and a baby, and the husband's unmarried sister, who lives with them. Dhendri leaves us in our room to unpack, saying he'll be back later to bring us our dinner, and not to bother the family too much. His friend goes back downstairs to the restaurant with him.
We go out to the balcony for a while, looking down at the orange trees and black chickens in the garden of the house next door, and beyond them the Port and the sea, over which the sun will soon be setting. (It is thought that the name 'Albania' may come from Italian 'alba' meaning 'dawn', as the sun appears to rise over this side of the Adriatic Sea.) The Principessa seems happy enough enjoying the view, the warm afternoon and the clothes pegs, scraps of sequinned fabric, flowerpots and other odds and ends she finds under the chairs, so I think we should manage not to disturb anyone. From down the hall I hear only faint sounds of tv, and children playing. However the two older children, one girl of eight and the other about four years old, can't hide their curiosity for long and are soon whispering outside our door. Their mother calls them back several times but of course it's pointless... impossible for two women with young children to sit in separate rooms, ignoring each other, and so by the time Dhendri returns we're all in the kitchen and Zonja and I have got the xhezven (coffee pot) on the stove and are nattering over our 'kafja turke'.
A power cut and a visit
Dhendri returns briefly the next morning with fruit, crisps, biscuits and peach juice, before leaving for work - driving casual workers to factories in nearby towns. He won't be back until the evening, so we'll be spending the day here. His friend is already in the restaurant, making breakfasts, and Zonja's sister-in-law is getting ready to walk down to the hospital, where she is a nurse. Durres beach is down that way, she says, and we'll all walk down one day while I'm here, as on a good day it's still warm enough to swim. The children watch tv in the kitchen and Zonja sends me out to the balcony here at the front of the apartment, from which we can see any customers arriving at the car park below - if it gets busy she can go down and help in the restaurant. For now it's quiet and I watch the staff from the 'byrektore' (pastry shop) across the road sit outside reading newspapers.
Mid-morning the tv goes off, suddenly. There's a daily two hour power cut, usually at about this time - electricity is being rationed. The children play with a small toy we've brought, Aladdin on a magic carpet with wheels, or 'Turki me rrote' (Turk on Wheels), as they call it. They eat the rest of the crisps and, as there are no sweeties, Zonja gives them sachets of sugar from the restaurant, printed with the names and colours of international football teams.
In the afternoon her mother and sister visit and, as the power is now back on, we watch subtitled Mexican soap operas, sitting in a row on the sofa with an electric heater in front of us and a blanket draped over our knees and the heater.
History
In the evening we drive around Durres with Dhendri, who has arranged a day off work for the day before we sail back to Italy. We'll go with him to Tirana, the capital city, about 20 miles from here, as he has to take some papers to the British Embassy in support of his visa application. He shows us the 'bright lights', all the newest places, the apartments under construction near the beach, flat-roofed pastel coloured buildings stretching away to the rocky green hills in the distance, and has no time for history... Durres is one of Europe's oldest cities, founded around 627BC by colonists from Corinth and Corcyra. It was part of the ancient kingdom of Illyria, where Shakespeare's Viola is shipwrecked in 'Twelfth Night'. Corinth and Corcyra soon began to fight over it, however, this and other 'conflicts of interest' leading to the Peloponnesian War... so we drive around oblivious to history for a while, and then go to eat barbecued chicken.
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