Tirana through the eyes of a foreigner – Albania; Beauty and the beast.
Location: Mother Teresa Airport – She’s such a beautiful symbol
Tirana is my city, Albania my country. Every time when I fly in from places abroad, it feels like coming home.
There’s always the little amazement over the parcels of land from the sky apparently much more structured and well divided as when I remembered them last time especially when I think of the character of the farmers and the ongoing discussions over property rights.
There’s the glans of opportunity seeing the sea and realizing the opportunities a sea harbor provides to a country’s economy.
There’s the dusty breath of development while staring over Durres road and seeing it packed with little Mercedes and over the last 3 years having seen the speed with which businesses have opened their doors.
You land on the symbol of Albania’s development; a newly built airport, a growing airport, a port to prosperity, the window of opportunities for trade, tourism and freedom.
Albania, in stead of a muddy road, now has a well paved highway between its airport and city, showing that it understands that distribution and logistics should be taken seriously in a country under construction.
And driving down to Tirana centre, there’s no hiding from it anymore.
While passing QTU, Coca Cola, Casa Italia and other companies having invested so much and providing so many jobs.
While passing the EC building, an organization with so much money that it first can throw away money in a corrupted scheme and now as easily can move.
While almost being able to scratch the top of Casa Italia while driving over the overpass, entering Zogu i Zi, which after so many fights and wise investments, without plans and agreements turned into such an amazingly beautiful square.
While seeing so many newly built apartment blocks shining in the sun, smiling their fabulous colors and figures.
While seeing so many people sitting outside drinking caf鬠not needing to work.
While seeing so many unfit people having their mouth full of Pizza, zipping Kriko’s, throwing coins to old men selling flowers, while picking up their 5th mobile phone, making nasty jokes to the Roma girl, afraid of putting themselves on the scale of the old nanny.
While seeing the lack of coordination between non profit organizations, the battle between UN agencies for funds, which makes you realize that many don’t work for development anymore, but mostly to survive themselves.
While seeing the prime minister on TV stating that the economic crisis does not affect Albania, that the Albanian economy is going strong.
While seeing no action for change by the people, except men scratching their big belly buttons, shown to all, under pulled up shirts.
While looking at a paralyzed and from the outside spoiled country with natural resources, beauty, sea and airports, sun and remittances and many many lazy youngsters, no drive to stand up.
And when you see that that laziness often comes with an arrogance – a deadly mix – which you can see in the stubborn academic and political discussion without sense and discourse, the deaf man’s ears when you try to explain someone something, because they already know best, the disgusted and distaining pose when a Tiranas sees poverty and vulnerability – it could spoil its white shirt, jeans and shoes.
Then suddenly the question strikes me, what am I doing here? What are all these development organizations doing in Albania? What for? If the people only desire money and wealth and nothing more – let them gain it in their own nepotistic, corrupted, naive and childish ways – who are we to judge?
But fortunately, I realize that Tirana is my city, but not my country. Outside of Tirana people live in much harder circumstances, in the mountains, Roma communities, tiny little villages far from the main roads and next to the main roads migrants live in absolute poverty. That it is my nightmare to be hit by a mallok, or fshatar driver and to land in a rural hospital, even worse to have my children’s teacher throwing books at their heads already hungover from his 4th raki in the morning. Or to grow up in a village where positive disciplining is unknown, the naughty rebel exploring freedom, just receives a smack in the face. The boy and girl who do not excel in mathematics, science and English, will never get the full attention they need and will end up last, the 1,400 children which need to stay home because of the bloodfeud doomed.
This is why I stay, why I fight.
But who else cares, right? What you don’t see, is what you don’t need to care about! As long as your uncle is sending his remittances, your ok, right? So lets order another caf顡nd do what we do any other dayƮothing for another, nothing for yourself – lets talk and have fun about what we yesterday did – that crazy 5th caf鮮
For reactions and/or ideas to organize yourself and explore what freedom, organization and participation can offer you – just mail: Tiranaobservervations@gmail.com
