Stepping out from the plane into the comfortable warmth of 26 degree air was a promising start to a week of holiday. Sitting in the bus I noticed a pair of tiny knitted wool socks and a head of garlic hanging in the front window. Not sure if was for sentimental, touristic, or supersticious reasons, but it was an interesting sight.
The bus ride took us past flat landscape with new and old buildings side by side, and at times seemingly on top of each other. We saw the contrast between extravagant buildings, probably from years past, and houses with rusted roofs and a patchwork of materials to keep them together. Pepsi and Amstel were visibly advertised with huge billboards on the hillsides, and we'd spot familiar shop chains along the way. Entering the centre of Durres we were thankful we weren't driving, as the bus had to navigate packed streets and a variety of creative parking along the way. It felt like a mixture of tourism starting and a people going about their daily lives. Restaurants and shops interspersed a seemingly unending row of hotels lining the coast, and after a while we arrived at Diamma Resort, our abode for the next week.
Quickly changing into beach clothing, and with our yellow wristbands securely fastened, we took in first impressions of a pool full of laughter from families and children, potential places for refreshment, and finally the beach. As true tourists we went straight to the sea to dip our toes in water which was definitely to be enjoyed to a greater extent during our stay.
And so here I sit; typing away safely covered by a bamboo parasol, so as to slowly adjust my skin to a sunshine that is stronger then at home. Around me I hear the sounds of people and see life lived out by the many beach vendors, all embraced by the familiar sound of the waves crashing towards the shore. And I feel that much longed for winding down peace fill my soul. It's going to be a good week.