My other end. Chapter 2. Part 1.

My other end. Chapter 2. Part 1.1

Chapter 2: This is a real Knot.

June 9, 2024
Himarë, Albania

Mountains, Goats, and Sea.

A couple of weeks ago, I started a trip with many illusions and expectations, as you could notice in the previous pages. Perhaps I romanticized this experience much more than I should have.

Spoiler: I am very romantic 😬.

I've experienced good days and bad days. I've felt a lot of happiness, but also a lot of sadness and loneliness. Sometimes I feel like my heart is crushed, but minutes later I feel it swell with real joy.

It's all very intense, and it happens very fast.

I started my journey in a small village in southern Albania, called "Himarë". It is pronounced "Himara", the "e" with the umlaut (ë), in Albanian sounds like an "a".

It was a coastal village surrounded by mountains, goats, and sea.

What am I doing here?
I came to volunteer.

I arrived at a Greek family's hotel restaurant but in Albania. They have difficult personalities, are quite strong, and are bipolar. Their mood could change throughout the day, or in minutes🤯. Good people though.

I never lacked food, I gained a few pounds. Thanks to the zukini, moussaka, and fries. The eggs flooded in oil (but delicious👌), the cakes and pancakes at breakfast. Pastas, rice dishes, and meats late at night. And of course, the galaktoboureko, it was a traditional dessert. But nothing like my favorite, the chocolate dessert 🤤.

I slept in a small room, at the bottom of the restaurant (what a Cinderella).

My roommate was an Albanian woman of about 45 years old. She did not speak English, so she preferred not to try to communicate in any way with anyone. But as soon as she took me into her confidence, she kept trying to make herself understood.

From her, I learned that no matter how much of a hermit we pretend to be. Everything becomes more bearable with a simple conversation. And that we are physically capable of working more hours than we rest. Now, how healthy this is, I don't want to say, judging by her almost sleepwalking, I deduce that not much, but that it can be done, it can be done.

In the kitchen, helping the boss, was a BEAUTIFUL woman of about 40 years old. Two sons, a daughter, and her lucky husband. She would give me special meals, whenever she could 🤫. She loved to watch me dance, and we were accomplices when the head cook would get out of hand, with our looks and gestures that said, "Let's leave her, she's crazy" 🤷‍♀️.

P.S.: she is not crazy, I say it with affection.

From her, I learned how important it is to be patient and prudent. Although honestly, her eyes were not at all cautious as she fixed me all over when I wore tight clothes. Despite her judgmental gaze, she was so tender and special that all I did was avoid shocking her when I was about to exercise.

Then there was the poor husband of the head cook. I joke, her lucky husband 🤥.... 🤫. Who at the end of the month told me something more than "morning", or "sorry". I heard him say, "Puise Soffia" (I don't know how to spell it in Greek), but it means, "Where were you Soffia?", every time I arrived at the hotel after enjoying my time off. He seems like a kind-hearted man.

From him, I learned the importance of being kind and helpful. Although I sometimes felt morbid looks from him hidden behind his kindness, I feel that deep down his kindness was sincere.

And now, the complicated characters.

The head cook (mother of the owner). A 60-year-old woman, but she looked 80. She lived under stress 25 hours a day, 8 days a week. I can't describe her tired face, but I distinctly remember her pronounced green, black, or purple dark circles under her eyes (I don't know what color dark circles are 🤔).

She would complain that no one would help her, but she wouldn't let go of control of anything. Typical person who thinks that if she doesn't do things herself, no one else is going to do them as well as she does (I must admit, this reminds me of something about me that I need to improve).

She had some special ability to always find something wrong with other people's work. Even though she enjoyed cooking (which I could tell because she cooked delicious). She was always yelling. Even the smallest detail managed to get on her nerves.

She is a good and generous woman, she needs to work on her stress. I am fond of her.

From her, I learned how far uncontrolled stress can take us.

And, as particular as she was, the Syrus Black, as we used to call the hotel owner. This was a complicated character. For me, the most complicated of all. Gender: male, more or less handsome, about 35 years old. The most bipolar of all, somewhat self-centered and petulant. Sometimes too rude and crude for my taste.

Spoiler: I'm also sensitive 🙄.

But all in all, a good man.

One day he told me he fancies me a la Gioconda. Which, far from offending me, was perhaps the BEST compliment anyone has ever paid me. Then he told me I looked like a lemon because I was so sour. And another one before I left told me I was a snake because he thought I was badmouthing him behind his back.

From him, I learned how important it is to be honest. Although, I think being honest and tactful can be more effective and beautiful. His crude comments often made me feel bad. But I can't deny that his rudeness made me react the same way to him.

This caused me to make cold and hurtful remarks at times. This hostile atmosphere between the two of us could have been avoided with a change of attitude on his part, which was never going to happen. Or with a change of attitude on my part, which also never happened.

The more we interacted, the more he hurt me, and the ruder and ruder I became to him. So, I decided to limit my relationship with him. Which made my comfort at the hotel very difficult, with the understanding that he was the owner, and interaction was a must.

P.S. I was not badmouthing him. I was simply sharing my opinions about him with the group of volunteers. Six BEAUTIFUL girls who made my life very nice during the month I was in Himarë. All Latinas. I think the Syrus had a thing for Latinas, his wife was Colombian (not surprising in Europe, I guess).

And you, how would you define yourself? Romantic and sensitive, or cold and calculating? And, how do they usually describe you, Gioconda, citrus viper, or cotton candy?

Comment.