From Finland to Albania by Vespa

There are still a few weeks to go before one of my dreams comes true. I’m not reading this for mid-life follies or fifty-something fads. On the contrary, the starting point for this dream is decades away.

Once upon a time, my friends and their older brother used to ride mopeds with and without permission. I, a 12 year old man-child, rode a bike and accelerated with the rubber handlebar end of the handlebars. As I approached the age of 15, I dared to ask my mother about getting a moped. In her typical fashion, my mother made no comment and for a moment I thought that soon we would have a shiny new Solifer Sport in our yard.

However, a ten-speed gearbox, the Kulkurikymppi, appeared in the yard as a birthday present. It was also a handsome revelation and my pain was eased by the fact that my best friend got one too. We rode them all over southern Finland. The moped fever gradually subsided and my fitness increased, at best by a few hundred kilometres a day of stage riding. A few times we even went as far as Norway.

A few years later, I got my AB licence. One that I didn’t even realise the value of at the time. In ten years’ time I would be able to buy any size motorbike I wanted without any training. One that I could ride on the bane and post wild YouTube videos, risking my life.

But I didn’t buy a thousand cube bike and I still can’t bowl. Instead, I admired the legendary Vespa, named after the Piaggio company director Enrico Piaggio who exclaimed: “It looks like a wasp!”

In general, the name Vespa evokes the legendary moped, which is very easy to sympathise with. Now I’m going to ride its big brother, the Vespa GTS 300, which is not exactly a moped but a medium-powered motorcycle.

In June 2024, I will be travelling by Vespa across Europe to Albania, via nine countries. My journey goes through Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Montenegro. Changes to the constitution can and probably will come, once we get going.

My destination is Vlorë in southern Albania, on the Adriatic and Ionian Seas. Vlorë is the third largest city in Albania and one of the oldest cities in Albania.

The current plans are for an eight-night trip. Daily distances will vary between 150 and 500 kilometres. I’ve been driving to Albania with a two-night tactic, but now I’m going to take it much more easy.

My intention is to avoid motorways as much as possible and to take quieter routes where I can look around.

This is where I update my travel blog. Come along and follow my journey!

The trip to Albania is approaching and the travel bug is starting to set in. One more month of hard work ahead, planning for the next academic year and the new school. Then I let the pupils go on summer break and lock the school doors for the holidays.

My plan is 4. On June I’m going to drive from Jyrinkylä in Ylämylly with a fully packed Vespa towards southern Finland. The itinerary has changed somewhat. The Baltic countries will be missed out, as part of the journey will be made by Finnlines by sea. This will reduce the journey by around 500 km, saving one night’s stay ashore.

Here is a map of the new route. The safe speed on Vespa is 80 – 100 km/h, so I like to drive on small roads and look at the scenery. I prefer to skip the motorways. The number of countries along the way will be reduced to seven unless the route changes even more closely.

The serviced Vespa has now been put into service after the winter and there is still time to do some practice driving. The fitting-out of Vespa is underway and the installation of accessories has begun. The necessary bags and navigation equipment are already in place. I’ve found some good tips on how to get them in Facebook two-wheeler groups. For example, the footwell bag(Seansand) specifically designed for Vespa was found that way.

The blog will continue in the near future..

4.6.2024
My journey to Abania began after several days of packing. The open bag system worked, i.e. the bags were open and I filled the bags with items as the need arose. At least so far, I haven’t noticed any equipment being forgotten.
There were dark talking cloud clusters in the sky, the highest of which indicated that thunder was in the air. I had time to loop my Vespa for about 15 kilometres and turn onto Varkaudentie when the first rain shower splashed the road wet. Fortunately, my Vespa has a high windscreen and a wide bow, so I didn’t get wet at speed, although I did get a few drops on my pants from my helmet visor.
In Varkaus I filled up the gas tank for the first time and at the same time I emptied the bladder. In front of me at the petrol pump was a real motorcyclist – I only have a flatbed bike. I bravely asked the man how much further he had to go. He told me he was going to Puumala harbour for lunch. We also chatted about this and that – I felt a kind of kinship with the other biker.
I had decided to avoid motorways and so from Varkaus ABC I headed towards Jyväskylä, where the water came for the second time. This time, too, I survived without getting wet in the shelter of my Vespa. Gradually my body began to report a feeling of hunger and I stopped for lunch in Kangasniemi. From there I continued via Joutsa to Sysmi along beautiful roads. At this point the clouds had already receded from the sky and the Finnish summer was at its best.
After Sysma I stopped to refuel and again I happened to be with another motorcyclist at a succession of pumps. I had to have a chat with him and it turned out that he was taking milk to a summer kiosk on the Pulkkila ridge in Päijänne. He invited me for coffee and told me that he had the best doughnuts in Europe for sale. I turned into the courtyard of Rantaterassi Reimar and there the owner of the kiosk was outside smoking a cigarette and chatting with another biker.
This other biker was a real biker, because he had ridden 6,000 kilometres in America in a couple of weeks. His vehicle was a legendary long-horned Harley, which brought to mind the song Born to be wild. Unfortunately for me, the café owner did not offer me one of the best doughnuts in Europe, but I had to dig a well for coffee and buns.
I had time to sit in the sunshine on the lake for a while when I was joined by – I can’t remember how many motorcyclists, but after that I realised that we motorcyclists have a kind of feeling of togetherness. He had time to tell me stories about his own life before I slammed a surprise Once in a Lifetime trip to Albania on the table. We talked about it for so long that I had to say that Vihti and my godson were waiting for me. From there, I drove to the end of the first day of the trip.

Travelling companion Raimo Luukkonen

5.6.2024

The day started in a festive atmosphere in the kitchen, filled with the smell of delicious rice porridge cooked by my sister-in-law. In the morning courtyard, the rooster crowed and the brother’s family prepared for a summer day of work. I packed my bags and washed Vespa’s windbreaker of mosquitoes and butterfly remains from yesterday’s drive.

I said goodbye, closed my helmet visor and set off. The journey from Vihti to Helsinki took about an hour, through the beautiful and lush fields and forests of southern Finland. I have to admit that driving in Helsinki for the first time by other means than a car was a bit nervous, but with one wrong turn I arrived safely at the Finnlines terminal in Vuosaari, even a little ahead of schedule. I had a few moments to wait for my travelling companion, Raimo Luukkonen, who was driving from Kuopio by scooter straight to the port. The next leg of the journey would be on the Finnlines Finnmaid ferry to Travemünde, from where we would continue by scooter through Germany to southern Europe.

While waiting to board the ship, we met a biker (Aki Savonen) who was on his way to conquer Europe. I admired his style of not worrying too much about the future. He was going somewhere and didn’t really know where he was going. For him, the journey was clearly more important than the destination. At least we in Raim knew where we were going and the route was fairly well planned.

Route planning arrows with Aki Savonen & Raimo Luukkonen

This new acquaintance reinforced my understanding of the sense of community and togetherness among motorcyclists, which I am just entering. MotoNews wrote on 2 January 2019 that there are 24 things outsiders don’t understand about motorcycling. These things make motorcycling a motorcycling experience, which is the sum of many things. Motorcyclists often choose a longer ride home than motorists because every ride is an adventure. Motorcycling can be a way of life that you never learn enough about.

Tying the scooters in the hold with the ship’s own linen was not an easy task and so I had to ask the staff for advice. If there is a next trip, I will take my own cloths. That’s how complicated the instructions seemed. There was no congestion on this boat, because surprisingly there were only three of us motorbikes on board and there didn’t seem to be any cars on board.

The ship disembarked more than two hours late from the port, but the time passed quickly as we chatted, had a sauna and a meal. On the open sea, the rocking of the ship was hardly noticeable and we were able to listen to the trubadour playing his magnificent Gibson Hummingbirds in peace.

6.6.2024

The night went by with calm and good winds and a relaxed sleep. With the work mode still on, I woke up after 6am, but tried unsuccessfully to catch up on sleep. The ventilation in the small cabin could have been more efficient and the light in the cabin easier to reach. The windowless cabin required the use of a phone light in the dark to find the circuit breaker next to the outer door.

Morning brunch by shower beckoned hungry travellers. The ship’s staff welcomed us with a glass of champagne and the meals were tasty. The view of the open sea from the restaurant window provided an added spice and eye candy. On the other hand, a surprisingly expensive food package should include plenty of good table fare. I reflected that such a long sea voyage would have been rather boring without the company of Raimo and Aki – the scenery at the window does not change very often and the ship’s equipment is not on a par with Swedish and Tallinn ships. In any case, the boat trip cuts down the asphalt kilometres swallowed up by Vespa nicely and in that respect it serves its purpose.

After an afternoon nap, we went to the “world’s smallest” gym to take a nap. It was undeniably a great feeling to pedal a cross trainer while looking out to sea. I also had a pretty nice office during the day in the restaurant while typing on my laptop and checking emails. After a gym workout, I relaxed in the sauna and jacuzzi. The water in the jacuzzi was so cool that my cold allergy was close to being activated.

The last meal was one that should keep me going until the morning. Even the dessert section was almost like the best pastry shop. I watched the little kids over the treats. Their expressions were telling as their eyes grew wide as they pondered whether to have this or that. After all, they took their plate of everything and went to sit down having made a good choice.

After the ship anchored in Travemünde, we drove the first few kilometres in a foreign country and after a little adventure we found our hotel, Jägerhof Ostsee in the village of Holm, about 15 km from Travemünde. My Tomtom navigator tried to direct us to turn at a junction that didn’t exist. Along the way was a ferry, whose employee looked visibly fascinated by my Vespa. The reason for his fascination became clear when he pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed me a picture of his 40-year-old Vespa. He took a picture of us and wished us good luck on the beach.
The key to our room was hidden under an ashtray and we carried our things inside. We did a little tour and found the actual museum, with walls full of stuffed animals and in one room, weapons lining the tables. A bit of a creepy feeling at dusk looking a boar in the eye from half a metre away. I crept off to bed, but Raimo, braver and thirstier, persisted in his quest for a drink. The search paid off and we soon tasted a bottle of the local excellent apple juice.
Tomorrow, a new adventure ahead in search of the next stage, which we do not yet know.

Day 4 (Germany)

7.6.2024

Hotel Jägerhof in Ostsee was a good night’s sleep. From morning shower to breakfast with dead animals. The breakfast was meagre compared to what was served on the ship, but it was good to keep the hunger at bay for several hours. Navigators and helmet phones charged and on board. About 360 kilometres to go.

I have to admit, I hadn’t realised how beautiful the countryside is in Germany. Stunning oak-lined country lanes winding through fields of grain and corn. Along the way there were numerous huge wind farms, the number of which is still far behind in Finland. Every few kilometres there were quiet little villages where people were doing their own thing. There was hardly any congestion and most drivers obeyed the speed limits. Of course, we did see a few reckless overtakes. There were no police officers on our route.

Now was a good opportunity to practice cornering and counter-cornering on Vespa. It’s obviously a basic motorcycle riding technique, but it’s a completely new thing for me. After all, I’m of an age where I’ve never needed a motorcycle licence. Now I’m learning a lot of things the hard way, but with motivation.

Today we ended up in a village called Bad Liebenwerden. Perhaps you are now wondering about the etymology or meaning of the name as we were. The DeepL translator knew the answer. Anyway, the village is very charming with its stone houses, beautiful gardens and lush woodland. On our evening walk we saw a deer feeding in a field and on the footpath through the thick forest we could well have been startled by a wild boar. I can say that I know birds and their sounds quite well, and yet on the walk I heard a sound the likes of which I have never heard before. That remains a mystery from the German passage.

A surprising observation during the couple of days is that the Germans don’t speak English, which we usually take for granted – it’s almost the third official language of Finland and so you can’t say you’re linguistically proficient if you know English and Finnish. In none of the shops, petrol stations, pizzerias or even the hotels we have visited have we been served in English. We explained things by hand and with our fingers, and people really persisted in talking to us in German, as if they were wondering whether we really did not understand. Of course, our route is off the main roads and we are unlikely to stay in any four or five star hotels, which may have an effect.

As I write this, it’s approaching midnight German time and I’m enjoying a Spanish red wine from Lidl, chosen by Raimo. “Carinena monte plogar” says the label. The price was 2,99€ and it still tastes good. The sad fact is that in Albania, wines are surprisingly expensive, as similar wines are around a tenner.

Tomorrow Saturday is the 5th day of the trip and we will cross the Czech border.

Day 5 (Germany/Czech Republic)
8.6.2024
On the fifth day of our trip, we crossed the border of another country on our two-wheelers, although we didn’t leave Bad Liebenwerden (Germany) until around noon. Our hotel did not serve breakfast and so we had to go for a walk to get something to eat. Even during the walk we admired the houses and courtyards of the private estate. With German precision, many gardens had been created and fences trimmed. Lidl was easy to shop in, as the store was built according to the same concept as in Finland, but it was a big surprise when many products were much cheaper than in Finland.
As soon as you stepped out of the hotel in your driving suit, you could easily sense that this was the first hot day of the trip. The name of the hotel, Sonnenschein, predicted a sunny day. I was already sweating as I loaded my things into the car. The plan for today was to drive about 360 km to Jihlava in the Czech Republic.
We met our first pleasantly English-speaking young German man at a petrol station as we were paying for our petrol. At the second rest stop we bought cappuccinos and were evicted, where only indoors did we attempt to go for a drink. We were told that the tables were in a private area and that the other places were not really appropriate either, according to the vendor’s expression. So we drank our drinks in the parking area. The young people were riding around on mopeds from the former GDR, known for their durability, such as MZs and Simsons.
Before crossing the border, we drove through Dresden in heavy traffic. We drove past the stunning old town with its imposing buildings on the banks of the Elbe. This time, however, we didn’t have the chance to explore this historic city in detail, but instead glided through it at speed. The pace only stopped at the charming centre of the small town of Königstein, near the border, where people were spending a summer’s day sitting in cafés. We parked the scooters in front of a café on the corner of the square. I had a lemonade there and Raimo was treating himself to something a little more substantial. When we returned to our scooters we saw that someone had parked a cute red Vespa next to my Vespa. We found the parker, too, as he waved cheerfully at us from a table with a coffee cup in his hand.
The border region between Germany and the Czech Republic was so stunningly scenic that I felt like making another trip there, at the latest when I got a slightly bigger motorbike. There were tubes of motorbikes, so obviously other two-wheelers had found the route. The road to the border ran all the way along the banks of the Elbe, surrounded by mountains.
So the Germans didn’t speak English, but they didn’t greet us scooter drivers either, although I tried to be proactive and wave to all the motorcyclists I met. An interesting change happened on the Czech side. I didn’t have time to raise my hand before the oncoming motorcyclists were already greeting me. My self-esteem was greatly boosted by this reaction, even though I ride a recumbent bike. I even saw deer bouncing off the road into the cornfield.
The names of streets and roads were such that it was difficult to type them into the navigator without checking them several times. On the other hand, I learned the info text in the men’s room without any difficulty. Men should choose a toilet that says Muji. Our hotel for the next night was in a village called Třešť, which requires skill to spell with extra characters.
We arrived at dusk at the Chateau Třešť, a hotel with a long history dating back to the 1400s. It was originally a castle, but has since been restored for hotel use. It is also known as Třešťský zámek. Unfortunately, our room was not in the magnificent main building, but in an adjacent building that may have been the farm workers’ quarters. Our scooter was sheltered in the stable building. After a hot drive, we changed clothes and ran to the hotel bar for an evening beer, which was still open for a few minutes.
Třešť as a place also has a lot of interesting history behind it. It was home to a close-knit community of Jews who traded in handicrafts and other goods. Gradually, however, the community declined and eventually disappeared as a result of the Holocaust.
Day 6 (Czech Republic/Austria)
9.6.2024
Now that I’ve read my own travel diaries, I can see that the texts are clearly in need of some stylization. After a day of driving and relaxing, the writing moment has already been the next day and my reading skills are not at their best at that time. However, writing at night is relaxing and at the same time you can go through the day’s events yourself. Who corrects grammar in their diary with a stick? I’m proofreading on my website (www.albaniaan.fi) at a better time.
If anyone has ever said that it’s not worth going on a long trip with Vespa, this trip will prove that argument wrong. Today we have already covered two countries and would have gone further if we hadn’t been caught by threatening clouds. As I write this, it is thundering and lightning. We left the Czech Republic and swept through Austria. Now we are in Hungary. We have to hope that during the night the clouds will clear and we will be able to drive on dry roads.
Today, Sunday 9.6 in the morning, we set off towards Austria. On the Czech side we had some funny moments when a two-wheeled tractor, a horn tractor, was pulling a big load of wood along the road. I am quite familiar with this type of machine, as I used to own one myself. The horn tractor was a very sympathetic machine, which made me curse and smile. I had to order spare parts from the Czech Republic. However, it was not entirely suited to cottage landscapes because of the hilly and wooded conditions. It was later replaced by an ATV.
The legendary two-stroke Wartburg, a car from the Eisenach factory in East Germany, was also on the scene. Later, that manufacturer also had links with the BMV brand. As we approached the Austrian border, I marvelled at the statues of Christ on the cross along the roadside, as well as the metal balls standing on a high pedestal.
As in Germany, there seemed to be huge wind farms in the Czech Republic and Austria, with at best dozens of turbines rising from the ground and winding through the grain fields. All in all, it seems that the whole of central Europe is one big cereal fence.
The heat of the drive and a slight feeling of hunger urged us to look for a place to eat, which we found. I ordered the cheese and vegetable soup, which did the job and was very tasty. A man in the restaurant struck up a conversation with me and told me that he had had a Swiss girlfriend who had originally been Finnish.
On leaving the break, the navigator made another mistake and we went for a pointless jog of a couple of ten kilometres, until we were back in the same place. With another navigator we got ourselves on the map and were able to continue our journey.
In Germany, the number of small towns was surprising. They were always there after a few kilometres of driving. There they were a bit more prosperous than in the Czech Republic, but in both the yards were very clean.
At the Hungarian border, we had to show our passports to a border official for the first time before continuing on a much worse road. Then dark and heavy clouds started to threaten us and after a little negotiation we decided to look for a place to spend the night. The Barok Hotel was just around the corner and we pulled into the courtyard. As the name suggests, this was a hotel that looked straight out of the Baroque period. A castle with its magnificent gardens and interior. The only thing missing was the castle maiden at the fountain.
Day 7 on the road to Albania! (Hungary/Croatia)
10.6.2024
We woke up a couple of hours too early because of the wrong time and it was raining really hard. It didn’t look good for travel. We looked at the weather reports and cursed that it might be a gloomy day. There was no way we could bear to lie in a hotel room all day in the pouring rain.
In any case, the breakfast at the castle beckoned and we were eager to see what delicacies we would find on the breakfast table this time. It was more or less what I eat at home – a breakfast of bread and yoghurt. Not even close to what was served in the first castle. A busload of schoolchildren had come to eat with their teachers, probably on the way to the excursion.
After lunch, I spent an hour in Teams at the project meeting for the new school in Reijola, followed by a look at the weather maps. It looked bad and I went to book the same room for the next night. When I came back, Raimo had found a small ray of hope in the rain front. We decided to take a risk and packed our bags and jumped on the scooters, despite having paid for a hotel room.
Mosonmagyarovar was left behind as we turned our bows towards Croatia. We watched the clouds and the bad road with excitement. Unable to see both at the same time, I at least smashed Vespa’s front wheel into a few big moguls. Then it started to rain, but luckily the rain only drizzled and didn’t completely drench us. On the other hand, the rain was warm, so it was very accurate. I didn’t take a single photo during the whole trip, because today’s journey was all about reaching the destination. Fortunately, the weather gradually cleared and we made our way through Hungary with a few stops, pizza and ice cream in 30 degree heat.
At the Croatian border, all the border guards had disappeared and the officials’ booths were empty. So the border formalities took no time at all and we found ourselves in Croatia. We had failed to pre-book a hotel and in the first town, Beli Manastir, we dug out our mobile phones. We found a hotel that seemed really cheap. The price was 40 euros, which Raimo paid on Hotellit.com from the booking site.
However, the hotel seemed quiet and I called the number at the gate. My female voice answered and I realised quite quickly that we couldn’t understand anything each other was saying. Our conversation ended as quickly as it had begun and there was silence. A few times I shouted into the phone and then the lower door opened and the lady stepped out. She was clearly not amused by our arrival and we found out that reservations would have to be made at least four hours in advance. We came to an understanding when, with the help of the telephone translator, we managed to explain to her that the room had already been paid for. So he went to put the room in order. The clock again rolled past midnight and it is now 1.47am local time.
Tomorrow it’s Bosnia-Herzegovina and Sarajevo.
Day 8 towards the mountains of Albania (Bosnia and Herzegovina)
11.6.2024
It rained heavily last night, which is probably rare for this time of year in the south. It was still drizzling in the morning and so we delayed our departure, checking the weather forecast. We managed to leave Beli Manastir in Croatia at about noon. We did a sightseeing tour of the town before leaving for the highway, as Vespa’s registration needed to be printed and Raimo was looking for a couple of screws to fix the air filter at the local hardware stores. We also refuelled as we left, because you never know. At the same time I studied the right door of the toilet. It should read: muzak!
The journey progressed at a good pace along good roads to the Bosnia and Herzegovina border. For the first time there were customs formalities, where they asked to see not only passports but even vehicle details. The border official quickly looked at the papers, after which the border was opened for us.
Then the pace slowed down, because the ribbon of villages was almost endless and the maximum speed was about 40 km/h and there was no sign of the green wave. You had to stop at every red light and the number of cars on the road increased. Some of the villages reminded me of the desert towns in western films, with the wind blowing and the metal parts of rusty wind vanes screeching. As we moved further from the border, the scenery became more spectacular and the villages more prosperous. Flat farmland became forested mountains. Driving along the back roads of central Europe, you realised how much food production there is in Europe and what grain fields we have. Now the fields were turning into fir forests, but I didn’t see a single clearing.
As I was climbing up the hill, I noticed that there is always a truck pulling the car trail. The queue is constantly chasing a small gap, where accelerating and wedging in front of another car can save up to half a second of your life. At first I tried to keep a safe distance from the car in front, but I soon found it pointless and dangerous for myself, because there was always someone to fill the gap. Voids tend to fill up. I started driving close to the centre line and behind the car in front. That’s when the speeders stopped, but that’s when my own reaction speed came into its own.
From the mountain we descended towards Sarajevo and admired the villages deep in the valleys. Unfortunately, we missed the photo due to the road, which required all our attention. Fortunately, the pictures remained as lasting images in the recesses of our brains. Sarajevo is the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina, perhaps best remembered in Finland for the 1984 Winter Olympics. The blue and white athletes enjoyed great success then. Later, in the 1990s, Sarajevo will be remembered for the Bosnian war and the break-up of Yugoslavia. Sarajevo is also considered the starting point of the First World War because of the assassination of Franz Ferdinand.
We arrived in Sarajevo in the early evening and found the hotel easily. At the reception, a customer service representative told us that he hoped we wouldn’t mind that the room only had a double bed. “No problem”, I said. However, once in the room, I informed the receptionist that we would need two more blankets and a towel. We then set off to explore the nightlife of the old town with a cold beer and food in mind. For a Tuesday evening, being used to the Finnish summer evening, the city was bustling with people, either just walking around or sitting in bars. We also found a place in a dark alleyway on a street with mood lighting and people of all ages smoking hookahs in good spirits.
We scoured the bars and found one that was suitable, I asked the waiter for a menu and we were about to order, but I happened to ask for a beer to drink. The waiter told me that they don’t sell beer. Could it be religion? I saw more veiled women in Sarajevo than in all of Albania at all times. The next attempt went better, but even then we had to buy food and beer from a different bar. The waiters at both bars carried them to a specific table for us and we had to pay at different cash desks.
By the way, I recommend Sarajevsko beer – the best I’ve tasted so far on this trip. Hunger passed and we were ready to head back to the hotel. Except that we stopped at a kiosk to buy some wine, which we managed to enjoy a glass of before we got tired.
Day 9 (Montenegro)
12.6.2024
Sarajevo was left behind in a torrential downpour. While refuelling, lightning flashed like never before and at the same time a thunderclap shook the ground. The warm rain was refreshing and the gear dried quickly as we climbed the mountainside. The mountainside today was quite a climb up the winding road and then back down again.
Today I remembered why I am taking Vespa to Albania. This is exactly why: beautiful valleys, towering mountains, cows and sheep on the road, winding roads, wind in your ears, sunshine in the sky, people doing their daily chores along the roads, easy parking in narrow spaces. You could add queue-jumping to the list, in the style of a proper motorcyclist, once you learn it. I have to say that I’ve never even ridden a moped before, so not everything can be expected and demanded after the first few thousand kilometres.
If all goes well on the last leg, it will be difficult to sing seriously at the trubadour rides that Sundqvist’s Motorbike is a motorbike and a scooter is a scooter. If a scooter can make the journey from Finland to Albania in a week or so, then Vespa is Vespa and others can follow suit! At the border with Montenegro, an official looked at my vehicle and laughed out loud. I wanted to say that you should follow me, but I didn’t dare. The main thing was that I got through with my Vespa registration papers, which I had printed myself.
It was great to drive through the beautiful and charming little villages of central Europe, past the grain fields, but the mountains and the sea are what my soul craves. Today’s stage gave me what gives me not only a personal life, but also a counterbalance of work and an elixir of life. This is what summer holidays are for! Taking a trip like this makes me even more convinced that dreams and dreams can be fulfilled. It is not necessary, but it is possible. A dash of courage, a dose of determination, the ability to dream, a little “crazy”, good planning and the support of those around you! That’s what dreams are made of! Sweet dreams! Budva will be quiet, but only for a moment!
“Up Where We Belong”
Day 10 (final leg)
13.6.2024
My Vespa to Albania project came to an end after ten interesting and rewarding days of travel. My part was Joensuu – Vlorë. My travelling companion Raimo Luukkonen made his last leg on the 11th from Vlorë to Saranda.
For the last leg of the day, we set off for Albania from Budva, one of the oldest cities in Montenegro and on the Adriatic Sea. Stunning beaches, narrow cobbled streets, lively nightlife and cultural events are characteristic of Budva. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to explore them on this trip because we had to check out of our hotel room at 10am and, surprisingly, there was no breakfast available. Obviously, the descriptions on Booking.com and Hotels.com cannot always be trusted. So the city tour had to be replaced by a trip to a local shop. Now there was no more rain in the forecast and the temperature was rapidly rising to thirty degrees. Shorts were replaced by jeans and the driving jacket fluttered open in the wind.
In some ways, the travel experience was different from the other days of the trip, and not just because we packed our scooters for the last time. There’s always something wistful about the end of things – on the one hand, a great effort was about to culminate and the goal was almost achieved. In Budva, we could already see the Adriatic we were heading for. In Saranda, the Ionian Sea gleams turquoise.
We took the bend in the road that the navigator thought was the fastest. In fact, after driving 10 kilometres behind every car I came across, I didn’t share the navigator’s opinion on the fastest route. The Albanian border on the way to Shkodër came up quickly. There was a long queue of cars at the border, which Raimo smoothly scooter-style overtook and took a place at the moderate front. I, of course, followed behind and drove alongside Raimo. The driver behind obviously didn’t like the motorcyclists in front of him and was making hand signals. I felt awkward, but it was a bit of a relief to pretend not to notice the queueing motorists’ indignation.
It was getting hot in the queue when an official walked towards us. For a moment I thought he was going to order us to the back of the queue. Not so – he motioned us to move forward to the other side of the control booth. At that point, another motorist appeared to come through the windshield and roar into the car, waving his arms. That was a far cry from Albanian friendliness. We did not have to wait there either, as the Montenegrin border official took our papers and asked us to move on to the next gate, where the Albanian official waited for us and gave us permission to cross the border.
So this was us in Albania, which felt very familiar. Almost like coming home, with its dangerous overtaking and irregular roundabout behaviour. We got stuck in the Dürres traffic jams, although we did use the little corner to get ahead here too. The infrastructure is not fully ready for the explosion in tourism, although much has already happened. Traffic bottlenecks are to be found in several places and this road from the north to Dürres is one of them.
The total distance covered was about 3500 kilometres, part of which was by boat from Helsinki to Travemünde. The boat trip saved some fuel and one day of driving. The Vespa consumed about 3 litres of petrol per kilometre, or 90 litres. Along the way we passed through Germany, the Czech Republic, Austria, Hungary, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina and Montenegro.
These medium sized scooters are not designed for touring and so we tried to avoid motorways and we did very well. We didn’t have to pay any tolls or vignettes. Our scooters held up well and the journey was completed without any major equipment problems. I had to add a little oil to the Vespa and tighten the side mirrors. The air filter on Raimo’s Aprilia had come loose and was hanging precariously on the pipe. We found suitable screws in the shop, but in the end the screws were put in the bag and we moved on. The air filter stayed in place all the way to Saranda.
As someone with more experience, I can recommend a helmet-mounted video camera or remote control. Now I had to stop at the side of the road to switch the camera on and then switch it off a second time. For a moment I wondered whether I could reach with my left hand to turn the camera on at speed, but almost immediately I decided that the idea was dead and decided to concentrate on driving.
Thank you to everyone who followed our journey! Thank you also for the nice comments and encouragement! This was one more step along the way. The journey is something we all have to do and miles are accumulating for each of us. Sometimes the navigator leads us astray, but we can find new wonderful things in those moments. Let’s enjoy our journey and live a wonderful and fulfilling life.
At the time of writing, it is 28 degrees in Vlorë. I just went to the local market to buy some fruit. The shopkeeper, an elderly lady with whom we do not share a common language, gave me a bag of cherries as a present.
To get there
have to get out of the way.
Who gets there
learns that after a while
have to move on again
Who will never
fall off the rails
and go broke
always the same old story
and is safe
from great sorrow
and great happiness.
Tommy Taberman
My last week in Albania started today. I have seen and done a lot again during this trip, although I have avoided long hikes because of the midday heat.
We have visited the old town of Vlora for the opening of an art exhibition and sampled the delicacies as a special guest. The pastry shop in Orikum was not to be missed this time either. This time the cappuchino and ice cream were just what I needed. On several evenings, I attended the Chiro in the centre of Vlora, either eating or sipping local beers.
I was also part of the football atmosphere in a pub when Albania scored a record-breaking goal against Italy. It felt like the whole city exploded into a roar. I also watched, undoubtedly at close quarters, the fireworks that someone had set up in front of the pub in the middle of the promenade. The sky was raining fireworks ash and bits of cardboard down on me so much that I had to take cover. The waiters held their ears and apologised as humbly as they could. Even the dirty table was cleaned up pretty quickly.
Morning lunches took us to the seaside several times before the sun had time to rise in the middle of the sky. The Lungomare 3 project in Vlora is making great progress and the long-awaited pedestrian walkways and footbridges over the sea are nearing completion. Perhaps next summer they will provide a safe way to jog southwards, other than along a very busy road.
I also spent a couple of days exploring the southern Albanian tourist towns of Saranda and Ksamil, and the magnificent fortress island of Butrint. My guide was Raimo Luukkonen, who seemed to know these places almost like the back of his hand. We criss-crossed Saranda on scooters and I still wouldn’t know how to get around there without a hub. These are great places to visit on future trips.
My longest walk in 30+ degree heat was a total of 8 kilometres. I wanted to see what the estuary of one of the longest free-flowing rivers in Europe, which flows into the Adriatic Sea, looks like. To see it, I had to drive 40 kilometres from Vlora along a road through small villages and finally through the village of Poro, near the Vlora airport, which is under construction. There are several words in Albanian that are also found in Finnish, but the meaning is very different. One funny example is “Joo”, which means “No” in Albanian. Albania is full of small bunkers, but on this trip through the estuary we found 5 big bunkers standing in a row.
I parked in the courtyard of the Vespan duck farm by the sea, and set off to walk along a virtually empty sandy beach. No sunbathers, no buildings, no bars, no private area signs. There was plenty of sea litter and jellyfish that had been massacred. On the walk back, the temperature began to rise to excessive levels, but fortunately I was prepared for the hike with plenty of water.
I would have liked a midsummer sauna, but that’s not the custom here and at the nearby hotel the sauna was only for hotel guests. In the end, I ended up at a boutique hotel called Chic, which charged me €30 for the treat. But I thought it was worth the price. The sauna was set at 60 degrees and didn’t really hiss when you threw the water in. However, I found an adjustment option and raised the temperature in the semi-heated room to 80 degrees.
The stove was placed on a wall paneling that was charred. Apparently the Finnish building regulations had not been followed. I was a little nervous about the wall’s susceptibility to fire, but it got me in the mood and I even enjoyed the sauna. It was by no means a match for our cottage sauna, but for want of a better one, it was good enough. I alternated between the traditional sauna and the adjacent steam room for an hour and a half. There was no congestion, as I was the only customer during that whole time. Finally, I enjoyed a Korca beer on the lounge chair before leaving.
The coming week could bring new adventures. Today’s hottest hours were spent washing dishes and cleaning.