Desafected Factories.

Gramsh was erected during the regime of Hoxa to produce weapons. The city was built around a factory of Kalashnikov and one of submarine batteries. It is also said that to confuse the enemy, he named 4 cities of Albania by the name of Gramsh. Some 15 years after the end of this regime there is not much left from the diverse factories, most of them are still standing but falling in ruin. Today we decide to visit the old battery factory.

On the way to the factory, we see a fig tree carrying nice big purple ripe figs. We are walking on a sort of bridge and the tree is growing up from the bottom of it so we are at the right hight but still a little to far to reach the fruits. A men at the next door terrace notices we want figs and comes over to help us with a big smile on his face. He arrives with a long metal hook, grabs a nice branch full of fruits and pulls it towards us. We now have easy access to the sweetest figs i have eaten in a looong time. Tauschia uses her knowledge of Albanian, or Ship as they say here, to communicate with the cafe owner on a very even basis. She explains to me this is not usually the case, foreign women alone don’t get the same treatment. Same situation at the small fruit and veg mini market where she has an other friendly conversation as we ask for a plastic bag for the figs.

Tauschia exlpains that she mostly gets a lot of staring and sometimes a “hey baby”... I am lucky enough to get only the staring and this is already annoying enough. Especially in Gramsh, everybody stars at me as if i was an alien. A real insisting look, they wot take of me until i disappear from their sight and it seems like they are studying me like a kid would discover a strange cat for the first time. The look is really that of a kid, innocent, curious and insistent. We still get this look but at least Tauschia now also gets the due respect.

Tauschia knows the guys at the entrance of the site and we pass the gate saluting them. Even though the place is no longer producing batteries, it has been converted to host buses and diverse small workshops. Walking through the falling apart red brick buildings, we meet the new occupants, a horde of sheep. Quite shy but curious some jump and run away some stay, starring and some even get a little closer. I can imagine what is going trough their head right now, something very similar to what i was thinking as people on the streets were starring at me. “damn, what does he look at, whats so special about me??”

Some doors are locked some opened, we puss the door into a great hall where pills of unfinished batteries almost make it to the 6 meter high ceiling. The floor is covered with strange shaped ceramics, the windows are broken, the walls no longer white and here and there, someone seems to have attempted to start a battery fire... It really seems the factory was abandoned from one day to the next, taking everything that can be used elsewhere (tables, chairs etc...) and leaving the rest standing as it is. After the falling of Hodxa, no one seems to have wanted to run the factory. This seems to be true for everything created during the communist era, now inspiring just hate and destruction. Some of the next buildings roofs have collapsed, burned or rotten. We find an other, coal covered huge hall. This one seems to be dedicated to the elaboration of CO2 filters for submarines, the floor is covered with small cylindrical black sticks. Again, devastation and destruction, boxes are teared up, smashed open on the floor...

In the back of this great area, lower buildings hold workshops, in the distance we can her machines and voices. at least this art is being use to something useful. We decide not to disturbed and leave. On out way out, the men are still sitting at the cafe, sipping coffee and what seems to be water. Tauschia knows the woman working here from the tie she was at the Baskia –the town hall. She was working there before the new major was elected. Because here, when the new major is elected, the whole staff of the Baskia is changed. Most of the documents are also taken away by the leaving party. The newly elected major starts off from scratch with a new staff, there is no continuity. A difficult working environment for the Peace Corps volunteers. So she decides to say hi. She is not here at the time but we still stay around since the men having coffee invite us to drink one with them.

At this point we realize that the 5 litter bottle under the table and the 1dl glasses on the table dont contain water but Raki. We soon get one of those glasses. Tauschia says no but still gets her glass filled. I am amazed by the smiling men serving huge glasses of Raki from his 5 litter bottle. His name is Andre and he just got this bottle from the distillery, like most people here, he makes his own Raki with his own grapes but everyone makes it in one place, hidden somewhere underground :) I tell him i ll drink just one but as we talk, sip coffee and Raki, the glass is refiled as soon as it is empty... Tauschia tried to warn me with her shaking head but i was to slow to react. I now have a second glass off this transparent, strong, but not so bad drink. Fortunately, the water glass also is automatically refiled. This process of emptying and refiling goes on, the glasses get bigger and bigger and they dont wait until the glass is empty anymore. After about 3 or 4 glasses, i start to get tipsy and the conversation more and more unreal. After explaining the difference between Shiptar and Albania, they are now arguing that Bush has an Albanian cousin or Grand Mother. We joke and say that Obama has a summer house in Gramsh. Everyone laughs. i might say that Americans are beloved in Albania for their involvement in recent history in the Balkans. The conversation turn around Albanians, how peaceful they are and how much mafia they are running outside their country. Inside Shiptaria, Albanians are the best people ever, peacefully living together, no matter if they are Muslims, Jews or Orthodox. Outside, it is an other story, they are mafia, drug lords, weapons sellers and make a bad reputation for Albanians.

This remembers me of something almost every Romanian apologized for when i was in Romania. The Roma people made a bad reputation for their country but in fact they, real Romanian are all the nicest people. So it seems that the bad people always are the first to leave and to handle with drugs, women and weapons... But in the Romanian case, only the Roma people made a mess :)

We finally manage to say goodbye and stand up from that crazy table, slightly drunk... i still have the regret that i refused an invitation for tomorrow night. I think i needed a bit of calm and mechanically refused the invitation. The new culture and 4 month traveling got me a little tired. No doubt, i now regret it and will get no other chance to share a traditional Albanian table. Before we walk out of the area, an old men brings us to visit the workshops in the back. There we meet Soni, he speaks perfect English and shows us around his workshop. He cuts all sorts of shapes out of local stones. Mostly plates for floors or walls, nice stones, nice cuts.

Tonight Peace Corps volunteers from Gramsh once again gather and we eat delicious vegiburgers and talk late into the night about education, volunteers, life...

Gramsh factories 1