Mystery Meat and Hitting the Road

Last week, my cab driver said driving in Albania is totally crazy.

So naturally, this week, I rented a car and hit the road.

First, I spent a few days in Tirana, the capital of Albania. Walking, eating, working, meeting with gay Italians, you know the drill.

I made a plan to meet back up with the Italian dudes from last newsletter. Half for market research and half because they were chill.

The group alpha told me to go to a “Zgara Supreme” in a certain neighborhood at 9:00. Way too late for dinner for me, but I guess I need to adjust at some point.

Notice how I explicitly say its okay to invite other people. A strategic tactic to signal this is not a date.

Turns out there are TWO Zgaras on the same street, in the same neighborhood, half a mile apart.

I had already sat down, gotten a table for four, and been there for ten minutes with the waiters giving me strange looks. So when we figured this out, I said let’s just eat at the different restaurants. They’re probably both good.

Looking around, I had high hopes. Second floor of a shitty building (green flag), fish tank (green flag as long as we're not eating those), half the customers smoking inside (major green flag).

There was a language barrier between the waiter and me.

After some back and forth: I couldn’t read the menu, he couldn’t understand my “recommendations” question phrased in three different ways (“favorite,” “best,” “you pick”), we both agreed on the word “meat”. I threw a thumbs up. I like that stuff.

I got a plate with a mystery meat (not chicken though), fries, sour cream, and olives. It looked great.

It was horrible. I mean terrible. And I am not a picky eater.

When the waiter came over, because I’m a people pleaser, I told him it was amazing, then asked what the meat was.

He said “Shoe.”

I laughed, embarrassed at the misunderstanding, and pointed at the plate.

“This? Pork?”

Straight-faced: “Shoe.”

Maybe it was a Blundstone…

I'm sure (and hope) shoe means something else in Albanian. And of course, the duplicate restaurant down the street was apparently delicious. Will never forgive that Italian.

Working has been more chill here. I’ve been happier to work because I have so much more to do outside of work.

At home, I was putting so much pressure on myself to do more and more, and bury myself in it, because I wasn’t doing enough outside of it.

I found a nice coworking space to check out. Showed up, knocked on the door, and a dude answered with “who are you?”

I said, “can i get a day pass? i’m here to work.”

He took me inside and explained that he usually doesn't do this type of thing. Then he took me back outside and offered me a cigarette.

My throat had already been hurting, and I'd told myself I'd avoid darts for a while, but I felt like this was hazing/initiation to work there.

We talked about work, life, and whatever else you talk to people about, and by the end of it, I had the greenlight to stay (for $10 in cash of course)

Locals streamed in throughout the day and went straight to the deck to smoke and play board games. It felt more like a dayger than a coworking space, and I was the loser in the corner actually working. Worth it.

I told myself I wouldn’t buy any stupid souvenirs. I’m about to be on the move for 5+ months. Can’t afford to haul around anything unnecessary.

So I put my brain to work: what can i waste money on that I can technically justify?

Prescription glasses. Perfect.

I’m a -0.75, meaning I can see fine, but 20+ feet away things start to get blurry. I knew I was going to rent a car, so it was a bulletproof excuse.

I walked into an eye clinic, got a free test confirming I’m still -0.75, and had the cashier pick out frames for me. She picked some and I asked “looks good?” after every pair for validation.

This is actually an underutilized tactic. Outsourcing decisions in your personal life to experts. I’m going to tell a very stupid story that most of you have never heard…

I've hardly used dating apps, but when I did, it was in LA, and I had some of the most awkward encounters of my life.

One girl I matched with used to live in my neighborhood there (Westwood-ish, right by the massive mormon temple).

We were texting, made a couple plans to meet up, those fell through, got on facetime, made it even more awkward to meet up in person, and finally got a drink. It went fine.

We continue talking, and one night after pickup basketball, I was starving. I called her: “hey, you know my neighborhood, where should i eat?”

She told me this Mediterranean place was her go-to. Instead of asking her what to get, I say “okay since i’m driving, i’m just going to call the restaurant, merge the calls, and you order for me.”

Be honest, pretty sick plan.

I call the place, merge the calls, and she orders whatever her usual was.

Here’s where it starts falling apart.

The place says “hey, we need your credit card number because we’re about to close”

Gulp.

I didn’t know how to kick one line off a merged call, and I knew this was pretty entertaining for her, so i said fuck it and read my credit card number out loud with her on the line still.

The restaurant hangs up, I jokingly ask her “did you get that?” and she proceeds to text me my entire CC info. One date and this girl has my credit card. Whoops.

A few days later, I hadn’t cancelled it yet. If we got married it wouldn’t be worth the hassle.

She came to see my apartment, saw my shoe rack, and said I don’t have any cool shoes.

This was true. I had just thrown away my worn-through adidas sambas, my only casual sneaker, so was wearing Brooks running shoes everywhere: work, bars, beach, dates…

This is expected in Seattle. In LA, it’s social suicide.

I say “you know what? you already have my address, you already have my credit card info, why don’t you just order me some? Size 11. Keep it under $100”

For context, she worked in fashion. This was like hiring an engineer to build an app for me, completely free. Leverage.

Lo and behold, a week later, some cool Asics showed up at my doorstep. Shoes i never would’ve found on my own, but perfect.

I wore them religiously for two years, which is like ten in male-shoe years.

That girl and I never saw each other again, and I cancelled that credit card.

Anyway, yeah, I told the Albanian eye-store worker to pick the frames.

How’d she do?

It was time to hit the road.

I used Reddit and Claude to find a good local rental company and secured a Chevy Cruze for 22 euros a day, insurance included.

If I return this thing without getting robbed, the saying "too good to be true" will officially be debunked.

They even dropped it off at my Airbnb. With no gas and a maintenance light on. She is beautiful.

After barely escaping with my life navigating out of downtown, I spent 3.5 hours going south to a small town called Gjirokastër.

Spring is in full bloom. I drove through mountains, valleys, towns, and made countless unnecessary pit stops.

The driving in Gjirokastër was somehow more dangerous than downtown Tirana. This time it was man vs. self rather than man vs. man.

Gjirokastër is a UNESCO world heritage site, meaning avoid driving at all costs. They didn't have Chevy Cruzes in the 1100s. (Yes, that's when it was actually built.)

Luckily, I felt like I had some practice driving here thanks to Bowser’s Castle on Mario Kart Wii.

I arrived at the guesthouse I'd booked the night before. If you couldn't tell, a guesthouse is someone's house that you stay in. While the family is still there.

I parked down the street, in the only place that looked safe from rolling off the edge, and walked up steep steps to the front gate.

Through the first gate, up more steps, through another door, through another door, into a courtyard.

I pulled out my phone to check the place's WhatsApp number when an 8 or 9 year old kid walked up and smiled.

“Hi”

“Hey, I’m staying here I think.” Hoping i didn’t break into the wrong house.

He immediately ran away.

Fuck.

A few seconds later, a 13-14 year old kid approached, said hi, and I gave him the same line.

He said "great!" and showed me to my room, a quaint spot with cobblestone walls.

I asked about parking. He said, "I'll show you."

We walked to my car and he grabbed the passenger side door. I quickly launched the pile of empty water bottles, banana peels, and wet wipes into the back.

He guided me on a 5 minute journey involving two five-point turns, going backwards, and almost flipping over, until we reached a small gravel spot seemingly a mile away from the actual house.

I can’t imagine drivers ed around here…

There was a cage with pigeons (or some birds) in it by the house. I asked him, "food?"

He laughed. "No, pet."

Imagine someone comes to your house, sees your dog in the yard, and asks if you're having it for dinner. Smooth, Kevin, smooth.

The past few days have been wonderful. Exploring, meeting locals, writing, eating, enjoying the peacefulness after the city.

I only had two nights booked but added a third because I'm loving it.

I'm writing this on my last night in Gjirokastër, sipping homemade raki (Albanian hard liquor) from the family here. They've been so kind.

I played volleyball in a nearby gym with the 14-year-old and some local high schoolers, and showed them hacky sack for the first time.

Driving further south tomorrow, and staying in my first hostel of the trip.

The feedback on the first newsletter was heartwarming. I read and responded to every reply, and I'm grateful to have people reading this stuff.

I've never made anything this long, or even somewhat serious, and I'm enjoying the process. So thank you, really.

Until next time,

KB

P.S. - I made a personal website. You can track where I'm at, what I'm listening to, or even send me a voice message at kevinbaker.lol.