It Takes a Village

 

“You know, instead of us both buying houses in Dublin and Sunderland, I bet we could buy a whole village in Kosovo for the same price”
“Lets do it!!”
And here is the plan…

It Takes a Village

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Where have all the Slovenians gone (long time passing)?

With a miserable start to our evening in Maribor, due to a malfunction of the loose egg location unit, or indeed location of any loose foods, as every restaurant/bar we approached immediately began packing up the tables, we eventually gave up trying to find the thronging hub of the 2012 City of Culture and stumbled into a dubious looking doorway claiming happy hour all night, where we demanded a litre of wine and directions to the happening night spots, which were met with derisive laughter and shaken heads along with apologies that it wasn’t as good as Ukraine, where she was from. Thus began the start of another new friendship, sealed over local firewater boozes which a young couple called Anna and Igor kindly thrust upon us, as she had an English exam next week and could justify an evening of drunken debauchery as studying. Returning to our hostel at some ungodly hour, we were met with crowds of punks and hippies, soiling out of a load of squat nightclubs which appeared to of sprung or of every random doorway behind the building! Fool of a Caxter Barman wandering around town looking for life when it was right here on or doorstep! Obviously wandering around the city centre looking for craic was an amateur move when the graffitied tenements on the outskirts of town were the place to be! And even more amazingly, Transvision Vamp was blasting out of one of them! Put the rest of this in your face

Koman the Barbarian Ferry and our Journey into Skyrim!

After some initial panic (running around Bajram Curri in the dark at 5am trying to find the chef in his car, then watching the ferry pull out of the dock as we drove up) we caught the Koman the Barbarian ferry through the Nice Nice t Nice Nice Northern Albanian Alps, crammed in with a variety of locals and their sacks of potatoes (Potato!) who had scaled down cliffs to the lakeside to clamber on board at random points throughout the journey. A furgon filled with old men playing a sitar and singing obviously bawdy Albanian songs (probably about Jill’s buubs) later, and having missed the bus to Thethi as it leaves at 7am, we met a pie fingered Albanian Brummie who arranged a car and house for us in Thethi. 4 nerve racking hours in a jeep with only right side suspension, packed in with 2 Albanians, 2 Spanish, 2 Germans, 1 American, 3 crates of beer and a sack of dubious meat (on Jill’s lap), took us to the beautiful remote mountain village of Thethi – only to find that those 3 crates of beer were not for us and our all inclusive house stay had no beer in the fridge! Only homemade plastic bottles full of crazy fire water that we politely tried to sip and were dismayed only to have it refilled by the little old woman as soon as we managed to get any down! And despite calls from our organiser demanding they give us beer, none arrived :o( therefore we went in search of a bar and ended up lost and stranded halfway up a mountain just as the sun set and had to resort to trespassing across peoples fields and houses, commando style, to find the main path – only to backtrack to let some cows pass on the narrow path (which Susan touched – animal no. 3, check). In search of a bar, a nice loose egg and to touch all of the animals (we are sure the stories of the cackling, large breasted, beer demanding, animal touchers will abound in Thethi for generations to come), we finally stumbled upon a hut/bar where we spent the last of our meagre funds on beer and had a rousing game of dominoes with the mountain men who insisted on giving us lots more beer Put the rest of this in your face