“I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
It’s now 11:30 p.m. on 24 April and the boys are sleeping in bunk beds—Maxim on top, just like in Iowa. At 8:30, I lay down with them and tried to tell them a story, but I kept loosing the thread. They were on the ball, though. Maxim asked me once, “Papa, how does the story go from the being about the dead shark we found today, called Bad Luck Charlie, to a truck driver in Colorado.” I fell asleep too for about 90 minutes.
(During the last night, Maxim fell out of the top bunk. He cried a bit as I hustled him into my bed and put two blankets on him. He was probably awake for no more than 60 seconds. He woke up 3 hours later and asked, “How did I get down here?” No injuries.)
We had a fantastic time on Saturday. The day began at 7:00 with me sitting under a blanket in the hotel room writing while the boys read their books or played with the Bakugans. I must interject here and the Bakugan toys are remarkable. They begin as plastic balls the size of a golf ball. When they are near a magnet, they pop open to reveal several layers of appendages that require ingenuity and not a small amount of dexterity to fold together again. The boys are totally enthralled with them. We have discussed several times why it is that these things capture their attention so completely. If I find the secret, “it will be bigger than the microchip.” (Ghostbusters—1984)
After 30 minutes that turned into 45, we took our gear downstairs and the boys rode their bikes while I practiced my guitar sitting on the bumper of our little red car. The place had a massive parking area (one of five in Albania) with many columns that divided the under-building area into sections. It was great fun for them to weave among the concrete and the laundry.
After an exhilarating drive over beautiful mountains, we arrived at our destination about 12:30. Five km from the place, Maxim yelled, “There it is!” We had seen a photo of the place on the internet and it was easily recognized.
Porto Palermo is a peninsula that is virtually an island about the size of a high school baseball field. It is separated from the mainland by a narrow piece of sand. A guy named Ali Pasha built a castle here in the 1700s. http://www.ecoturist.com/
The boys and I were down on the rocky beach by 1:30 and we didn’t come back in until 6:00. At last we left after Oskar did his second ‘final swim.’ I promised that we would come back Sunday. I don’t blame them—I have not experienced water this clear since Thailand. At 2:00, I went for a swim, expecting to jump in for a bit, freeze the hairs on the backs of my hands until they snap off, and get out shivering. It was mighty cold at first, but soon I was feeling fine. Thankfully, this time I remembered to bring my swimming goggles and it was like swimming in a delightfully low-chlorine Iowa pool. There weren’t many fish, but the exquisite rock formations were like watching a continuously changing movie. I felt like Jacque Cousteau. Thirty minutes later, I got out and the shivering began. My eyes certainly had to be creative as they struggled to follow the words on the page of my book (about Alaska) until I retrieved my Obama sweatshirt from our ‘bungalow.’
This place is great because the boys can be totally self-contained and there is hardly anyone around. The biggest population on the beach is cows.
At one point, about 6 came charging down the highway accompanied by bellows that could be heard a half-mile away. The cows already on the beach gathered in anticipation of the six interlopers’ arrival. It was like a bovine rumble. The first salvo was a red heifer and a light red heifer ducking their heads as they came together in what seemed to be a totally mild confrontation—it was difficult to tell whether they were facing off or doing a big-boned animal impersonation of the European kiss-on-both-cheeks greeting. I didn’t really get to find out though, because almost immediately the dude who had taken 100 lek ($1) from me as entrance fee to the castle started yelling and throwing rocks at our four-legged friends. I could never understand what he wanted them to do, so I can only imagine what the cows, with their probably more limited skills at interpretation of human behavior, where thinking.
One activity for Maxim is finding ‘sea glass.’ I am trying to convince him that although genuine sea glass has been tossed and turned by the sea until it is clouded and smooth, much of the stuff he has found looks like it has recently been tossed by morons who don’t care about their impact on the planet.
We explored the castle—10-foot-thick walls and numerous rooms with precious few, and tiny, openings in the walls and ceiling, making the inside damp and unbelievably cool. I love to see the boys run around the rooms and suddenly jump in front of each other—the other kid shouts out with extra-huge fully animated shock. They do a little dance as they see each other. Later in the evening, Oskar will recreate the little dance and say, “Maxim, remember this?!?”—with the previous joy once again.
After the castle, I was attracted by the water on the other side of the causeway and the variously shaped rocks jutting out into the sea. I thought that I should go for a swim there…I wanted to maintain my reputation as a land-locked Iowa farm boy who likes to swim. At the same time, I was not looking forward to the cold-water shock that was coming—after all, it was nearly 4:00, long after the hottest sun. I was pleasantly surprised, however, to fill my lungs successfully after less than a minute of gasping. How marvelous to float nearly weightless suspended like a leaf in the wind in crystal clear water where mermaids would feel at home! I called Maxim over to take some pictures. I wanted to try to get an image of the transparent water. Then I swam away from shore. Not since Maura and I learned to scuba dive have I looked in the water and felt I was in a nearly limitless expanse of area. As I moved farther from the shore, the bottom moved farther down. The words ‘inky depths’ came to mind as the water became darker and darker blue. I am afraid that I can’t adequately express my feelings of freedom and exhilaration. I can’t deny that I am a bit confounded at this point because some might feel insignificant when confronted by the unbelievably immense and powerful water all around them. Water that can cause tsunamis that crush and destroy. I wasn’t exactly ‘scared’…as I swam, I decided that ‘thrilling’ would best describe my feelings.
As we walked up the steps to our cabin, Oskar said we would need a shower. Normally, I would agree—salt water and sweat. In this case, however, I deflected his plans as I said, “The shower has low water pressure, and we are simply going to get back in tomorrow, so let’s just change our clothes.” Comfortably, Maxim had the great idea of simply putting on the same clothes he wore before going swimming, AND when we left Tirana. I’ll bet I know the kind of person who cheer when I said only half jokingly, “You know, boys, my goal is to go the whole weekend without changing clothes or taking a shower.” (Goal realized.)
The boys are most looking forward to walking along the rocky shore while I swim the same route.
Maxim, “I told Oskar that this is what boys do.” I think he meant that boys climb on rocks and stick their noses in places as they explore. Maura has read how mothers need to suspend their in-born worry about safety once in awhile and let boys be boys. Maxim’s statement to Oskar may have been born after over-hearing one of her descriptions of her reading.
I told Maxim that my goal is for him to learn to swim so he can come out with me to see all the stuff I see.
“You want some company,” he said.
“Not exactly. I just want you to experience what I do.”
“Then I need to tread.” He’s right. During the last two years of swimming lessons, he has learned strokes and random skills, but he has not learned to tread water. As I mentioned/complained to the organizer of the lessons, I don’t give a hoot whether he can do a back stroke or a front stroke or an upside down stroke or a “flutter kick” (whatever that is); I just want him to tread water so he can survive if he ever finds himself in over his head.
Oskar's onion treasure
Our tidy little red car. A Renault Senic. As we were driving around Albania, we paid $7 per gallon of gas--174 lek ($1.75) per liter. 1.75 x 4 = $7 per gallon. In Croatia, it was 9.76 kuna ($1.95) per liter. 1.95 x 4 = $7.80 per gallon.
At the beach.
We stayed in bungalow #4.
Beautiful water.
