Public transport here is something of a dark art. In fact, it would probably be easier to say there isn’t really a public transport system at all. Instead, there’s a network of buses in every conceivable shape and size and, if you’re lucky, one might even have air conditioning.
The timetables are, at best, a rough guide, and there are very few official bus stops. Instead, there are meeting points that, unless you ask a local, you would never find.
I could have taken a taxi, but I was feeling a bit mean and, besides, it was time to experience local transport.
Our new host had contacted the coach driver, who confirmed he had room for us and agreed to pick us up on the far side of a petrol station hidden away not far from where we were staying. He would call when the coach travelling up from Sarande was getting close to Himare.
We still had time that morning for one last swim, which felt like the perfect way to leave.
The green bus we had been told to look out for turned out to be white, but we flagged it down anyway and, thankfully, it was ours.
The three hour journey, including a thirty minute comfort break, was comfortable enough, helped by working air conditioning. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the apartment waiting for us.
We’ve been travelling long enough to know exactly what we’re looking for and always double-check the important details with the host before booking. So arriving to discover there was no air conditioning in the bedroom, which in this heat is essential, together with clutter that hadn’t appeared in the photographs, was disappointing.
I suppose we were due a bad one. This was the first time in almost five years that somewhere simply hadn’t met our expectations.
We decided it wasn’t for us and immediately started looking for somewhere else to stay. Without knowing the area, and with the day slipping away, it could easily have become stressful. Fortunately, luck was on our side. I found another apartment and, despite a few language difficulties with our Belarusian host, we arranged a viewing.
Within an hour we had moved into a much nicer apartment that was, incredibly, considerably cheaper. We then left Airbnb to sort out the refund with our previous host, who wasn’t especially keen to return our money.
Vlorë feels very different to both Sarande and Himare. It is much larger and marks our arrival on to the Adriatic coast. The beach here is sandy, although I suspect much of it is man made. My first impression was that I wasn’t sure about the place at all, but after a week we had both begun to really like it.
Our morning routine has remained much the same. I tend to drift through the backstreets picking up food during the day, but mostly staying indoors until the sun begins to lose its strength. Then the promenade comes alive. People of all ages emerge for an evening stroll, while the many tasteful restaurants along the waterfront begin welcoming diners. People eat late here.
We’ve also spent time exploring the city itself. There are post-communist apartment blocks sitting alongside more modern and eclectic buildings. Somehow it all works and has a character of its own. There is even a small section of the old town, now beautifully restored, although it amounts to little more than a single street.
I never tire of watching the sun go down, and Vlorë has rewarded us with some truly memorable sunsets.
Dream Chasers 