Spring Break Vlorë 2010

Awaking in Fier to rain and thunder wasn’t the most reassuring sign of a successful day ahead but we continued our flight from the aggressive northern weather front closing in.  The next stop was  Vlorë, which you’ll of course remember was the site of some congress of important Albanians, or the signing of some sort of pact or constitution, or something*.  I would have known a whole lot more if I have been allowed to go to the museum and find out, instead of downloading the entire Wikipedia database onto my iTouch at a later date and then sporadically reading about the gradual etching out of an Albanian state in 1912. 

So, Vlorë.  It was nice, but from what I recall the weather was pretty bleak and we didn’t have much of an opportunity to enjoy it.  It is right on the ocean with a nice stretch of beach, however, and was evidently an important Byzantine naval base.  But the most important thing that I learned about  Vlorë that day was that buses to Saranda leave unfashionably early on Monday mornings.  So depite getting there well before noon we discovered that we had dead-ended on the coast.  This would have been awesome if we were on a Spring Break Tour of Albania and had a seemingly endless supply of money to spend on 3-star 30-euro hotel rooms that seem to be both everywhere and empty. It also would have been awesome if the weather had been better.  As fate would have it, however, we were on some sort of deadline (1/2 of us had to go back to “America” or whatever within the next two weeks).

We walked for a good length along the shore and sat at a resto-bar on the ocean eating pizza and asking literally everyone we could find if there was a possibility of catching a bus.  Averaging out all the feedback we got, the answer was a definitive maybe.  We then decided hitchhiking was not only our best option, but our only option.  Running over a rough topographic draft in our heads of what the road to Saranda would be like (I, reared on the West Coast of North America, expected it would be exactly like the Big Sur in California; my ethnic Albanian host was expecting something exactly the same, only how it was before California had entered confederation).  In any case, in what will eventually follow is a concise account of our trek from Vlorë to our Ksamil terminus.

*Albanian DofI, evidemment.  I love this picture.  I imagine a bunch of men suddenly opening the window and making a huge to-do to the passers-by to get their attention and then once everyone stops to see what is going on, one of the men on the balcony says, “Okay, so guys, we’re a country now” and then everyone goes back to whatever they were doing before because most people in the former Ottoman realms had poorly-conceived notions of any real consequences of post-Westphalian statecraft.

¡Special Post!: Top 10 Most Memorable Pizza Experiences of 2010

There has been a lot of buzz on this blog among my many readers about why pizza and its widespread appeal as the food of choice for today's up-and-coming adventurer. Reader "Gary" has raved about pizza being the universal comfort food, and wants to know why.  For me, pizza is not so much a riddle wrapped in an enigma shrouded in mystery, but in fact the perfect food. What may surprise you, probably not nearly as much as it does surprise me, is that I did not take ONE single picture of the many, many pizzas I have eaten in Europe. I can count on one hand the number of times I decided to purchase a whole pizza in Canada, but for some reason it was the one thing keeping me going through the long winter of eastern Europe. Perhaps my words can paint a lovely picture for you.  This list is in no particular order, and does not pertain to the best pizzas, but simply ones that I remember and have left a lasting mark on my continual development as a human being and functioning member of society.  So this one's for you, Gar!

1. Nagorno Karabakh: This was awful. This was the worst pizza experience of my entire life. In fact I am not sure I can include this in a list of pizzas because I think, by definition, this culinary abortion cannot count as pizza. A round, spongy crust, a ketchup base, sliced hot dogs, and rubbery cheese does not a pizza make. This is why I am not recognising your country.
2. Kukes, Albania: omfg, this was the best pizza ever, partly given the circumstances, and partly because it was actually the best pizza ever. The chef had trained in an Italian pizzeria (and all North Americans blindly believe that anything Italian is the best when it comes to food and fashion, if not political or fiscal management). He held up various fresh ingredients from his table (the tables and seats were positioned around his work area) and then put the masterpiece in the wood-fired brick oven right before my very eyes. And after a long day of fleeing Kosovo by foot and dreaming of freedom and euros and pizza and showers and dubbed television, this is exactly what I needed.
3. Tirana, Albania, central park: Thin crust, about 52 inches across, fresh tomato sauce, prosciutto ham, arugula, fresh grated parmesan. If I felt I needed to say more I would. A little bit more expensive so you certainly pay for the privilege of dining with Albania’s elite and the company of a young, Harvard-educated dilettante.
4. Sarajevo, Bosnia: At 7 in the morning when my feet were wet, this equally soggy Quattro Stagioni pizza was not the warmest welcome for me to Bosnia. I had to ask for a touch-up in the brick over, which did cook the dough in the end, but it was memorable in its unmemorableness.
5. Dr Oetker’s Prosciutto. This is the best pizza in existence. These little discs of joy go for $9 in the Canadas but you can dine away for $2 in continental Europe, which is the main driving force behind my decision to live here.
6. Iasi, Romania: THIS WAS SO GOOD. This is exactly why pizza is the greatest food ever, because it actually tastes better cold at 3 am when you have to transfer at Dej Calatori and are waiting for three hours and you knew it would be a good idea to buy a pizza to take with you on the trip and because you got it pour emporter you received a 30% discount. Epic win!
7. Budapest, Hungary: Pizza King needs to watch his crown because it’s quite undeserved. The quality of ingredients-to-cost ratio are way off kilter and if the situation of me barging into their delivery-only establishment in the rain and sitting in their kitchen waiting for them to make me my pizza and hand it to me hadn’t been so comical it wouldn’t have made the list.
8. Tunisia: Comment tu dit “leave it in the oven longer. This isn’t cooked at all!” en francais? This was something I really struggled with for a long time in Tunisia, and it was really hard to make the cheese brown at all because I’m starting to suspect it wasn’t cheese at all.
9. Chisinau, Moldova: Andy’s Pizza. They really, really plug Andy’s Pizza. But here’s the thing I don’t like about Andy’s Pizza: the waiters don’t ‘get’ me. Something I would have left in the comments box (if they had one) was that the waiters should never question my ability to eat two pizzas in one sitting, and should certainly never tell me that I am not allowed to order two. Aside from a dry crust, the ingredients seemed quality enough for this connoisseur.
10. Sarajevo, Bosnia: My second attempt at pizza in BiH, up the hill from the first place, was an absolute success. Thin crust, ham, mushrooms, all for $2 and so good that I returned several times.  They also had beer and couches and let me nap upstairs.  Or at least they didn't know that I napped upstairs.   

Some interesting trends we can deduce from this well-researched list is that the best pizza experiences have been in Albania, which is reason enough to warrant a visit.  The worst, as we are seeing, is in the former Soviet Union, with the notable exception of Moldova, which is no doubt due to its ethnic Romanian status—they are shipwrecked Italians, after all.  Unfortunately, as I noted before, I don’t have pictures to accompany this list but this is what happens when I am so caught up in eating pizza—I completely forget where I am. But I can still remember the taste of each one and much like when I order a pizza, all I really care about is my own happiness in this regard.