Triana to Ioaninna

The bus journey is predicted to take between 7 & 9 hours. Due to the border crossing from Albania into Greece it is hard to be accurate. Ourbus leaves Tirana at 4 in the afternoon. We present ourselves at 3.30 to the travel office. The bus driver and office clerk are sharing a smoke. I ask a few questions about the journey. Its about 4 hours to the border, then we wait to cross (this could take a while as its peak holiday time), then we proceed to Ioaninna. The bus actually travels on to Athens after that, so we have two bus drivers and an assistant. The office clerks English is good and he asks `where we told that the bus doesnt actually go into Ioaninna when we bought the tickets?` `No!`.  Apparently it stops bout 6k out on the ring road. This isnt good news especially as we will be arriving at gone midnight. `Will there be taxis?` `Yes`. So, bags stowed and off we go..

The bus goes via Durres. The roads are packed and the going is very slow.

Then we hit the main road south. The scenery changes to vast open plains with small hamlets and farm houses. Its a very poor scene, almost biblical in a modern way. Old men sit watching their few goats or turkeys in scrubby fields. The ocassional tethered cow and a few chickens scratching about. We saw donkeys laden with hay. People say `well, its all these people have known so they are content with their lot`. This may be true of the older generation, but the youngsters have smart phones and internet access. They see what life is like outside and they want that life. The young people we met were all working and studying to get a better life. Its going to ge a hard struggle as the government seems to put obstacles in their way. 

The bus is full and we are the only foreigners. On these long bus journeys little communities form. We all start as strangers and end as aquaintancies. There is a lady sitting across the aisle who is Albanian, but lived in Germany for a lot of years and speaks a little English. As we approach the border, the driver makes a phone call then makes an announcement and every one groans! Our English speaking friend explains there is a 3 hour wait at the border. It is simply down to the weight of traffic and processing so many people. Its dark when we stop at the end of a very long queue. Up ahead there are lights from some food outlets. So we all get out on the side of the road to stretch our legs, search for food, toilets etc. We have bought our bus picnic of cubes of cheese, cherry tomatos and hard boiled aggs. So we go in search of the toilets. There arent any! Or to be precise, there are but there is no water supply so they are not working. People are still using them, I will leave it to your imagination what they are like! Norman and I go for a stroll and find a quiet corner in a car park. Needs must!!!

After a couple of hours our bus has crept to the front of the queue. It is total chaos. The border control guards gets on to collect passports, half the people have got off and cannot be found. Eventually we are all accounted for. And we crawl on. The border area is very poorly lit, swarming with people and it is very hot despite being late at night. Then our lovely translater tells us the next stage is baggage checking. We are told to get off and get all our bags off the bus. We can see a big brightly lit table near a bus a little way further in the queue. People are having to empty their bags out! This makes my heart sink. Packing our bags is like performing reverse surgery. No space however small is wasted. The thought of having to do this publicly in a hurry fills me with dread. However, we are told to open our bags there, on the tarmac, in the semi dark on the roadside in amongst the puddles of oily water. The customs man approaches, he crouched down, gives the contents of the bags a gentle squeeze and moves on! PHEW! Reload the bus and crawl forward again. (I dont know why the other bus was singled out for scrutiny). Finally we reach the Greek border, all get off the bus again and enter the passport control office. The greek official couldnt have cared less, he scanned the passports while talking to his mate with a cigar clamped between his teeth. He didnt even glance at the photos! 

At last we are back on the road in Greece. Ioaninna is only an hour or so away. The bus driver has a conversation with our translater friend and we know its about us by the body language. Then she explains that the bus will make a special stop at a 24 hour fuel station just for us where we can get a taxi easily. True to their word, they stop at a brightly lit fuel station, the bus driver has phoned ahead and we are met by the attendant who has already called a taxi for us which arrives 5 minutes later. Hows that for service? Hows that for caring? We are constantly amazed at how wonderful people are. Yes, there are some swines, but most people are lovely (so far).

Wow!

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