Category: Aroma
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Tbilisi doesn’t really wake up till 10. Every city has its rhythm, and Tbilisi’s is late — the restaurants open at 9 if you’re lucky, the streets stay quiet, the buses run half-empty. On Day 4, with this knowledge in hand, I made my own breakfast. Groceries from the Day 1 run: eggs, bread, whatever…
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Breakfast of champions at Santino. I ordered an egg omelet — tasty but I couldn’t finish it. Two cups of coffee instead, because I had a long day planned and needed the fuel more than the food. The kind of morning where caffeine is reconnaissance: mapping out the hours ahead while the city wakes up…
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I swore off bus tours after Montenegro. Then I signed up for Lake Bovilla — 4.6km² of striking blue reservoir, 14km from Tirana, 400 displaced families, zero birds, and one hidden viewpoint behind a restaurant that no tourist bothered to find. The redemption arc.
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Morning in a contemporary art gallery with Krist Dimo’s ‘Vuoto’ — paintings of fragmented figures and shared human experience. Evening at an Albanian wedding show, dancing in a circle shouting ‘opa.’ In between: a $6 pita, a produce vendor who now knows my face, and the realization that Tirana is starting to feel like home.
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The Great Albanian Fry Crisis solved in one pan (it’s the oil). A billion-dollar Spider-Man matinee, 26 minutes of waterfall peace before the ghouls, the data on why women run Albania’s economy, and Delibros — the best burger in the country, with impeccable fries to prove the oil theory.
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A hands-on Albanian cooking class (byrek, sheqerpare, përshesh, cornbread), the secret of Kalinjot olives, and a walk through Tirana Castle — besieged in 1817, demolished in 1832, now woven into the modern city.
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The connective tissue between cities: a mini-bus to Tirana, a pizza joint with robots on the wall, a bottle of Berat olive oil, a €70 massage, and a forensic KFC investigation into why every fry in Albania tastes terrible.
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Last day in Shkoder: cleaning the apartment, stocking up on cheap meds, and a farewell dinner at Marina Seafood where the red porgy was unavailable but the smoke was, miraculously, also absent. The first 100% smoke-free meal in Shkoder — and it was the last one.
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A rest day with grocery-burning and future-planning, then dinner at Fisi: FËRGESE with Berat-region olive oil, baked lamb I’ll spend a lifetime trying to find again, and the ongoing war with cigarette smoke. Plus: why the bees of Albania might be seeking me out for fresh air.
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A rest day that became a meditation: the Site of Witness and Memory (26 prison cells, 987 dead), the strange numerology of 26, fried pancakes at Nam Bistro, a regrettable Whopper, and the discovery of the single best bench in Shkoder — shaded, windswept, and miraculously smoke-free.