2-21-12
The sun was shining and we were preparing to enjoy the bumpy ride to Saranda to fetch a package from home. Little boys in the bus were lightly quarreling, pulling each others coats, and slapping each other on the head as we wait to leave town. Providing more entertainment then concern, as their rambunctiousness as they travel alone on public transportation between neighboring towns is quite normal.
The sun glinted brightly off the sea as we came around the corner near the foot of the hill of the monastery ruins. Here we were greeted by two high school age boys joyfully playing with a hawk they had captured, swinging it around by it's wing before throwing it to the ground where the dog they were with ferociously tore into its heads. Momentarily all eyes of the bus passengers were on this scene and then we silently, with little more then my own gasp, continued along.
Nearing the turn off to the main road a frequent stop, as it is also the intersection for villagers traveling East, I at the last moment glanced to see the new attraction of the young devious boys sitting in the seat ahead of me. Coming up from being face first down a man was being helped by his friend. Another man had already darted across the street in front of the bus and jumped on. Despite the cries of the people for taking the man to the hospital, we traveled on leaving behind the man who once turned I saw had a large gaping bloody gash on his forehead and stumbled towards us. Possibly intoxicated, as drinking raki (The equivalent of which in the US is moonshine.) throughout the day in lokals is normal. We left that man behind, and the driver called out that he wasn't a taxi.
We headed home after a short shopping trip, a quick soup and salad meal on the sea, planning of our spinach feta casserole dinner, and reading of the troubles and interests of those across the ocean in our homeland. Ten people packed into the furgon and we picked up two drunk guards along the way. Just another day in Albania.
The sun was shining and we were preparing to enjoy the bumpy ride to Saranda to fetch a package from home. Little boys in the bus were lightly quarreling, pulling each others coats, and slapping each other on the head as we wait to leave town. Providing more entertainment then concern, as their rambunctiousness as they travel alone on public transportation between neighboring towns is quite normal.
The sun glinted brightly off the sea as we came around the corner near the foot of the hill of the monastery ruins. Here we were greeted by two high school age boys joyfully playing with a hawk they had captured, swinging it around by it's wing before throwing it to the ground where the dog they were with ferociously tore into its heads. Momentarily all eyes of the bus passengers were on this scene and then we silently, with little more then my own gasp, continued along.
Nearing the turn off to the main road a frequent stop, as it is also the intersection for villagers traveling East, I at the last moment glanced to see the new attraction of the young devious boys sitting in the seat ahead of me. Coming up from being face first down a man was being helped by his friend. Another man had already darted across the street in front of the bus and jumped on. Despite the cries of the people for taking the man to the hospital, we traveled on leaving behind the man who once turned I saw had a large gaping bloody gash on his forehead and stumbled towards us. Possibly intoxicated, as drinking raki (The equivalent of which in the US is moonshine.) throughout the day in lokals is normal. We left that man behind, and the driver called out that he wasn't a taxi.
We headed home after a short shopping trip, a quick soup and salad meal on the sea, planning of our spinach feta casserole dinner, and reading of the troubles and interests of those across the ocean in our homeland. Ten people packed into the furgon and we picked up two drunk guards along the way. Just another day in Albania.
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