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| Boulevard Zhen Dark follows the Lana River in downtown Tirana. Similarly to other urbanized centers, the Lana River has also been channelized. I am surprised by the familiarity of the layout. The presence of green space along the Lana River and the high rises in the distance remind me of downtown Denver, Colorado, in the United States. Specifically, the area where Speer Boulevard divides and follows a channelized Cherry Creek. |
Highrises are just beginning to change the skyline in Tirana. One of the things I really enjoy about the buildings here is not only are they modern, but the city is prioritizing aesthetics over function. This is not common in Albania. As a result, no two highrises are similar, and none are simple square or rectangles. The building in the distance is one of my favorites, but I have had difficulty photographing it in daylight. It comprises a blue (left) and green (right) tower of different heights. I love the striking colors and am especially fond of how the building tapers near the bottom.
After a 40 min bus ride, I approach the entrance tunnel to Bunk'Art 1 as a short distance from the bus stop. I am unsure what to expect and begin the walk through the tunnel. I quickly realize this is simply a concrete tunnel that leads me to the ticket office on the other side of the hill. In the middle of the tunnel is a single speaker, playing a scratchy rendition of an Electronique mix of music. I find it both comforting and disturbing. It is a strange sensation to feel.
After paying my entrance fee, 800 Lek (6.80 Euros) for both museums, I walk up a hill about 300 m to the bunker's entrance. Side note, the USD exchange rate with the Euro has stabilized around 1 USD = 0.96 Euros; however, the USD has continued to slide against the Albanian Lek, about 7 Lek to 110 Lek per 1 USD since I arrived.
When I enter the bunker, I am greeted by a familiar site. A series of doorways. These four are all made of concrete. I try to swing them slightly and realize they weigh a ton and don't move easily. Another bunker that was built and never used. In fact, Enver Hoxha died before it was completed and remained a secret until the mid-2000s.
One of the first rooms I see is near Enver Hoxha's quarters. The concrete walls are covered with fibrous materials to make them feel cozier and to remind people that this is no ordinary person's room. Seems contradictory to the basis of Communism.
The hallways are as I would expect, plain, with some colors. This one is brown and white. The doors to each room are concrete with a metal skin. This seems to be over the top, but if you are paranoid, you can never be too careful. In the distance, I can hear glass breaking, gunshots, scratchy audio tracks, and footsteps, which I hope are from other visitors.
My first impression is that this is not like my experience in Gjirokastër. An eerie feeling hits me. Bunk'Art 1 is a bit unsettling and feels like I am walking through an abandoned torture center.
There are four levels and several hallways. Its story begins with the invasion of Albania by the Italians (1912 AD) and takes me through the end of Communist rule (1993 AD). The rooms are simple squares, typically about < 9 sq m (100 sq ft), and are a unique part of the display. Some have unique art visual pieces, some have historical equipment, and others recount specific historical events. For example, I found this communication room to be interesting. At the time, this was all state-of-the-art equipment anticipated to be needed to keep the country functioning while its officials hid underground.
Another room shares the story of elections during the Communist regime. The US and UK supported Enver Hoxha initially with the condition that open elections be held. Hoxha's solution, hold an election where people were given a choice. One box had a picture of a Communist candidate the other did not. Albanians had a choice. Vote for the Communist party member and support the regime or vote against the party. No one dared vote against the party.
Another creepy hallway.
Standard issue room and gear for everyone staying in the bunker. Far less pleasing than those of the high-ranking officials.
Enver Hoxha was paranoid and feared not only nuclear attacks by the Soviet Union and the United States. He also feared biological warfare. Until the mid-1990s, Albania had some of the world's largest reserves of mustard gas. Hoxha wanted Albania to mass-produce gas masks and provide them to every citizen in the country. Unfortunately, Albanians struggled to produce these devices. Nevertheless, some intriguing prototypes were developed, including a respirator for horses. I frequently say that people project their fears into the world, and this is another example of someone hoarding biological weapons while telling his country that they needed to fear biological weapon attacks.
Another example of a room for high-ranking officials. I find it easy to recognize that those that implemented the ideals of Communism did so for their own personal gain, which came at the expense of ordinary citizens. It is no different than Capitalism. I remember Father Ernesto in Güemes telling us, "whenever someone has something (i.e., resources, power, wealth, etc.), there exists another person from which it was taken. And those that have will fight to protect it." This is the human condition that has plagued us since the earliest of days.
This unsettling experience was beautiful, but I cannot help but feel relieved to be out of the bunker. I did not experience this in Gjirokastēr. Instead, I wanted to keep exploring the raw bunker there. Here, Bunk'Art 1, has overloaded my senses. Bravo! Now, I feel the need to spend some time outdoors.
Not far from Bunk'Art 1 is a cable tram, The Djati Ekspres. The tram takes me to the top of the mountain is 4.7 km (2.9 mi) in length, and climbs to a height of 1,100 m (3,608 ft). I remember Jerome telling me, "When you are finished with Bunk'Art 1, take the tram up the mountain. Then buy a ticket to the adventure park and zipline your way back down the mountain." I was looking forward to enjoying the descent. But, unfortunately, the adventure park is closed for the season, so I will do a roundtrip on the tram. "Last tram down is at 5 pm," says the man taking tickets at the bottom.
I am rewarded with a magnificent view of Tirana, the mountains, and the Adriatic Sea in the distance. From here, I can pick out the few highrise buildings in downtown Tirana. This will be changing soon.
As I stop to admire the fall colors, I notice four QZ Bunkers hidden just behind the edge of the trees. I stop wondering why they were placed there when I stumble into an Albanian military facility to inspect the bunkers.
I notice three more tucked away on the other side of the road. I love these bunkers; each is unique based on location and condition. They are such a cool iconic part of modern Albanian history. Although I never tire of seeing them, I am saddened by the colossal waste of resources in their deployment. 
Speaking of wasted resources. Nearby I notice this yellow structure. An abandoned hotel and bar that was never finished. Only the exterior shell exists.
I wonder about its story. Why was it built? And eventually, abandoned? Was it a lack of resources or some other events that caused construction to stop? As I walk away from the structure, I notice a tattered for sale sign and toy with the idea of undertaking the project for a brief moment. If only I had the right partner? Although I am not seriously considering this as an option, I know a part of me that likes the challenge of renovating rundown buildings and repurposing the old.
Halfway down the hill, panic hits. OH SHIT! I pad my rear pockets, then my jacket's hand and chest pockets. Finally, I pad the pockets on the front and back of my pants again. Damn it! I immediately turn around and jog back up the hill to the lower tram station. The operator greets me, and I inform him I left my phone on tram 14. "It takes 20 minutes one way. Don't worry," he says as he disappears into the office. I can pick up the phone, and a few minutes later, he returns. "They'll check on the other side. No one has gotten on the tram after you," he says. So, I find a chair and sit. This is precisely the scenario I was hoping for and why I jogged back to catch the tram before it reached the upper station.
As I wait for the news, I remember setting my phone down next to my bag so I wouldn't sit on it. Next time, I will put my phone in my bag or my jacket if I take it out of my pant pocket. About 10 minutes later, the operator re-appears. "It was in tram 14. It is returning in the same tram," he says. Thank you, I say. About 35 minutes after arriving at the station, tram 14 completes its lap, and the operator reaches in and withdraws my phone. Faleminderit (Thank You), I say as I tap my heart and place my hands in prayer position against my chest. The operator smiles and nods his head. Please and Thank you are two words I try to learn whenever I am in a new country. I have noticed that local people appreciate hearing those two little words in their language more than any others.
What a day! Yes, Please and thank you, very important to know.
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