Never say never again

Never say never again

approaching tirana airport i search the landscape for concrete mushrooms, the thousands of bunkers built in albania during the cold war paranoia. an albanian english newsletter carries a strange title about the practice of blood revenge in the mountains up north. i have come to tirana for a two week training course about landmine software. the airport has changed a lot since i arrived here some seven years ago; the big book in which an immigration officer wrote down my name is replaced by a computer now. lots of pizzerias and cyber cafes line the streets, and really every other car is a mercedes. big apartment blocks are being constructed, in funny bright colours- i guess the answer to decades of grayness. i have an espresso in a bar where men are chatting, smoking, drinking coffee, and watching soccer on this quiet sunday afternoon. i remember how seven years ago it was not obvious at all to find a place to stay and food to eat in this country, but nowadays there is plenty of choice- bar Manhattan, bar America, Lucky Strike, cafe Firenze, hotel California, Euro supermarket.. this country lives on italian espresso, greek salads, german cars, american money, and yet there is a strong sense of albanian identity that even extends across its borders.
during my two dollar haircut the hairdresser's apprentice complains to me in english about the poverty and lack of jobs. he says his boss is stupid and does not understand a word of english, and in the mirror i can see it is true, the man keeps cutting with a big smile. most of the young people still want to get out of the country, but it seems that many also return, speaking english, german, or italian, and they bring the country out of its isolation into europe. i try to find the same super kitsch plastic flowers i bought seven years ago, but they almost look real today. i wonder if fate will ever bring me back to this country.