There are several interesting things to see and do in and around this charming city. Most of these, such as the extraordinary 'Crazy House', the short rail journey to Trai Mat, the Datania Roller-Coaster ride, the cable car ride from Robin Hill to Truc Lam Monastery, views from the Night Market and, indeed, the gardens and other floral arrangements in all their splendour, have been covered in detail in two past blogs. I was not going to bother to repeat them. I suggest you go to my blogs, ĐÀ LẠT Parts 1 and 2, in January 2020 to view. In fact you should because, as I am about to point out, 'fings ain't wot they was' three years ago.
The first thing I did on this visit was to take a walk around the large 'artificial' Xuan Huong lake. It is a walk of about 2 miles and good exercise after my bus journey. I passed this interesting 'ark-like' construction (left). It had a sort of 'crib' display inside.
Right: This was a rehearsal for a fashion show along a pontoon on the lake. The show was due to take place the next day. It was noticeable, compared to my previous visit nearly 3 years ago, that the spectacular floral displays on floats on the lake were absent. In fact the whole ambiance was somewhat more subdued.
I stopped off at the Gardens on the north-eastern side. Again, rather lacking in custom. On my previous visit the car park was full of tourist buses (lots of Japanese) and the place was thronged with visitors. It was almost empty this time.
Right: Inside the gardens the flower displays had obviously not been tended so assiduously, the topiary 'animal sculptures' were badly in need of a trim, all the magical fountains were switched off, some of the 'arty' displays looked in need of renovation and there were none of the usual hard-grafting gardeners in evidence. Also the place was almost totally devoid of visitors. It was rather a depressing sight. In fact this was to be the nature of much of my following visit. Presumably this is all due to the after-effects of the blasted worldwide 'panicdemic' and although life is more or less back to normal here now, with no restrictions, it has obviously had a seriously detrimental effect on the tourist trade.
On my continued walk around the lake I noticed that the many 'swan style' pedalos were all tethered to their moorings. A few of the horses harnessed to colourfully decorated 'carriages' which used to gallop down the road from the gardens to the town in profusion (dangerously but fun) were still there, the horses dozing, as were their drivers. None seemed to be being hired. It was all a bit downbeat.
Left: The entrance to the enormous Night Market. Still popular but, again, lacking in the vibrancy of previous times and no dancing or music which I fondly remembered.
The weather this time was also cooler and more overcast and, on two days, surprisingly windy. I nearly lost my hat, twice.
Right: My favourite bar, The Maze, on an upper-level street north of the market. It is the most extraordinary building inside. It is on 6 floors with a roof terrace on top and a basement. It appears to be hewn out of wood, and stone blocks, with tiny dark alcoves, uneven steps up narrow winding spirals with tree roots for handrails, small irregular, dark, unmanned, bars on each floor and 'Gormanghast' gothic style spooky sculptured walls.
Left: It is difficult to photograph to give you the idea. You have to order your drinks at the entrance and carry them up, hopefully without spilling them, to whichever level you wish. It would undoubtedly fail every 'Elf 'n Safety' regulation in the UK. I went there twice and on only one occasion was there anyone else in there (a couple of delightful English girls whom I met on the roof terrace). It used to be busy with tourists.
This town has a profusion of hotels, some very large and luxurious, and guest houses. They are wall to wall in some streets. I began to wonder how they are managing to cope with the lack of custom. Certainly the little place I was staying at did not seem to have many guests and with several empty rooms.
I booked myself onto a 'guided' tour for the next day. Unusual for me, but hoped to see a few new sights. Which I did. To be revealed next..........
I wanted to return to Đà Lạt (Dalat in English spelling which I will use for ease of typing) because it is a lovely, jolly city and with beautiful surrounding countryside. It is about 250 miles north-east of Saigon in the Central Highlands at an altitude of 5,000ft and set amongst glorious pine covered hills. In the French Colonial days it was where they had their vineyards and smart holiday villas, away from the heat of the lowlands. Indeed one needs to wear a light jersey in the evenings. I had booked a 'night bus' with the 'Futa' bus company which was due to leave the Pham Gnu Lao area of Saigon at 11.00pm and arrive in Dalat at 6.00am. The last time I did this journey it was by day; a very different kettle of fish as it transpired. I was asked whether I wanted an upper or lower deck seat. Not having done this before, I assumed it was to be a normal double-decker bus. I opted for 'upper'. The cost of this 7 hour journey was 300,000 Dong (£10 aprox). Good value, I thought. I feel the following embarkation and 'bedding down' process deserves a full description if only as a warning to those that might follow me. Forgive the length, as it were!
We were taken from the Futa agent's premises in District 1 in a mini-bus to the main bus terminal out of town. The Dalat bus pulled in and I could see that it was not what I had expected. It was the same height as a normal bus, but inside it had 3 longitudinal rows of head to tail upper and lower bunks down the sides and centre. We had to take our shoes off and put them in a bag then squeeze down the very narrow (2ft wide) aisle to find our bunks. There was no room to pass anyone therefore human 'traffic jams' ensued. I had my small backpack and a carrier bag with me plus the bag with my shoes in (suitcase in the cargo hold). My 'upper' bunk was at head height. It soon became apparent that this accommodation was designed for those of Vietnamese size and agility.
Left: A poor photo of the centre and side line of bunks. Now, I am not exactly fat (I like to think); I would suggest of fairly average 'British' build at 5'9" weighing about 12st7lbs. Neither am I disabled in any way, if a bit creaking at the joints. However, getting up and into the bunk demanded something of the skills of a double-jointed gymnast! There were footholds, in the wrong place, but nothing else to hold onto. Maybe there is a technique to it but it was one hell of a struggle, completed eventually with much grunting, groaning and kicking some poor Vietnamese in the adjacent bunk. Once installed there was no place to put any bags, so I rested my feet on my backpack and balanced the two carrier bags on the top of the seat head which, after another struggle (because the toggle to release it was well hidden and I had to get help) could be reclined to the horizontal. The bunk was just wide enough with my shoulders and thighs tight against the edges and only just long enough to lie at full stretch. Curtains could be drawn along the windows and along the aisle side, so one is cocooned, indeed jammed, into this private space. It was quite comfortable thereafter. There is absolutelyno way that someone of the characteristically hefty, indeed lets face it, obese and unathletic nature of many of my fellow citizens (see many previous photos) could hope to get up to and fit into one of these bunks!
I managed to get some sleep. I woke up at about 2.30am and wanted to have a pee. I had foolishly failed to do so long before departure. I assumed (I really should stop assuming) that there would be a loo on board. The descent from the bunk proved almost as difficult as getting into it. Combined with the fact that the interior lights had been switched off and the bus was veering around a bit, it was a hazardous procedure. I made it without injury and squeezed my way around the aisles in search of the WC. There wasn't one! I feel we should have been advised. On getting to the front I asked the co-driver what to do. He told me, by sheer good fortune, we would be pulling in to a 'stop' in 5 minutes for a driver change and where there were 'facilities'. We did, and thank goodness for that. It doesn't bear thinking about if we hadn't! On remounting the bus and, with the same difficulty as previously, the bunk, we set off again; now into hilly country with much swerving around unseen tight corners. We arrived at the out of town bus station at Dalat at 5.30am. There was a free minibus transfer into town, but I couldn't check into my hotel until much later, so just got dropped off somewhere near the centre.
On the plus side, there was never ever a requirement to wear those ridiculous face-masks at any stage of this journey. Of course, some ot the Vietnamese did.
I made my way to the nearest little coffee shop (even at this hour many were open) and, not having a clue where I was, set about orientating myself. I did have a poor (old) street map, and a compass which came in handy. With no rush, and a few more coffee breaks, I eventually got my bearings and, chancing it, made my way to the little and remarkably inexpensive hotel (called, quaintly, The Lovely House Hotel) hoping that they might let me in, or at least leave my bags, at about 9.00am. They did with lots of smiles and, indeed, said that the room was ready. I went up for a much needed kip!
This little saga probably explains why nobody in their right mind would ever wish to travel with me.
Dalat was advertising it's annual Flower Festival from 1st-31st December (right). It is a city which is famous for it's standing as one of the world's biggest exporters of flowers. It is 'Flower City'. I soon gathered that, thanks largely to the world-wide covid 'panicdemic' (which Vietnam has now thankfully got over) there is a lack of tourists on which the Festival rather depended. As such the Festival was closed down after the first week of December, is due to recommence during the week after I will have left and due to continue into January (the Têt festival).
Left: A view of part of the city from an observation platform. I publish this short travel revue because I intend to spend a couple of days visiting a few places around here not covered previously, and will report back eventually.
This city is just as hectic and more or less as I remember it when I was last here in January 2020. There are a few noticeable changes. The shops and streets in the centre seem cleaner and with more shiny upmarket shops, smart bars and restaurants and they now have modern 'countdown' traffic lights and even pedestrian crossing lights at the major street junctions.
Left: This is still 'scooter city' (they call them 'motos') but there are many more cars on the roads. These cars, often 'top of the range' models, all have tinted windows and are driven by presumably the more wealthy and 'important' citizens in a rather arrogant horn tooting manner. Saigon was designed for 'motos' and bicycles (you rarely see bicycles nowadays). There are also more one-way streets. Fortunately some anarchy still prevails with the motos; if they want to go the wrong way up a one-way street, happily and with no objection, they simply drive the wrong way up on the pavements. You could always walk steadily across a busy street and the motos would calmly flow around you. You still can, but the cars would mercilessly run you down! Such is progress.
Right: Le Loi street which runs for a mile west from the Opera House on Lam Son Square. This has experienced ongoing roadworks for years, but is now impressively open for business. There is also an (closed) entrance to the 'underground Metro' on the left side. This Metro project, partly funded by the Japanese, has been ongoing for at least 5 years and, as I was 'reliably' informed, would be operational, if funding continued, 'sometime' next year.
Left: The front of the vast covered Ben Thanh market in District 1. It covers a few acres. There was noticeably little traffic around, as above, at about mid-day. I don't remember that previously.
Right: Inside the market (chó) are row upon row of 'stalls' interspersed by narrow passages which sell just about anything you can carry, or eat. To wander down the often congested (mostly by tourists) little passageways you are constantly harangued by stall-holders touting their wares. If you know what you are looking for, and adept at haggling, you can sometimes get a very good deal. There are lots of 'designer' goods, mostly fakes, but bearing in mind that many flash designer goods, such as clothes and bags etc., are actually made in Vietnam, there are sometimes 'genuine' products on display at cut-prices. I wouldn't have a clue!
There are also several enormous multi-storey shopping centres around town such as The Saigon Centre, at the Lam Son end of Le Loi. It is a maze of 'designer' stores which sell vastly expensive goods, plus loads of cafés and restaurants. Once inside it is easy to get disorientated and difficult to find your way out! Nothing on sale would interest me, and I much prefer the simplicity of a UK Tescos, or similar. Left: The hideously 'jolly' Christmassy entrance foyer, including a 'Santa's Grotto' with a 'Winter Wonderland' of which they have probably read about in books. Sounds like the 'Winter Wonderland' in UK at the moment is not proving so popular!
Right: Having a sit-down with a couple of elegantly dressed local ladies.
Face masks! One of my (many) 'bête noirs'! I was conscious that there would be many in evidence; locals usually always wore them riding their motos, against pollution rather than 'bugs'. However they are now compulsory on public transport and much more in evidence on the streets (but not compulsory there, and few tourists wear them). At one point I took a bus and walk up to Tan Binh District in the north of the city, where I once lived, to revisit a few old haunts. There is a very good, easy to understand and cheap city bus service. On entering the bus I didn't have a filthy snot-rag. The smiling conductress told me I had to wear one. I said "I was British, and we don't wear them!". To avoid any unpleasantness another lady passenger generously gave me a spare one, a new one I hoped, (of dozens) that she was carrying. Of course, out of politeness, I put it on, sort of, much to their amusement!
I still find it amazing, as with the situation during the 'panicdemic' in UK, that the locals here will happily sit, or stand, crowded together in or around a bar watching the football for example, or in a restaurant, without face-nappies, but willingly wear them when well separated, and not even facing one another, on buses or trains (my taxi driver didn't wear one!). The logic escapes me. It always did. It is all rather sheeplike behaviour; unthinkingly following 'the rules' and serves no real purpose.
My visit to 'old haunts' reminded me that no structure stays the same in this place for long, with the exception, fortunately, of the more old and iconic, often French Colonial, buildings. Of the several well used places, bars, shops, restaurants and such that I used to either live in, frequent and enjoy only one was in it's original configuration. Buildings go up, come down and are replaced with monotonous regularity. A Vietnamese, visiting a friend of mine in a German city after a gap of 10 years, was amazed that nothing significant had changed there.
Left: This building, the City Hall, at the north end of the wide pedestrian Nguyen Hue Boulevard, with the statue of dear old 'Uncle' Ho Chi Minh at the front, will last forever, I'm sure.
Right: As indeed will the iconic Central Post Office, just north of the city centre. It was built by the French between 1886-91 and is very popular with tourists. I sent some postcards from here. Unlike in UK post offices, there are seldom long queues!
Left: The elegant interior of the Post Office. The portrait at the end is of 'Uncle' Ho, unsurprisingly.
Right: Several years ago, when they began to infest Asia, a MacDonalds monstrosity was built at the northern end of the Post Office. Along with face-masks, the poisonous universal MacDonalds are another 'bête noir' of mine (the cause of obesity and diabetes amongst otherwise healthily dieting Asians). I was heartened to see that it is now abandoned.
Near the Post Office is the impressive Notre Dame Cathedral (left). Another French construction. Normally a most imposing building, it is now a masterpiece of intricate scaffolding. Think of the man-hours spent erecting that lot! I'm not sure what the problem is. Dry rot? Bats?
Right: Another photo op. Not of my choosing, I hasten to add. These pretty girls instigated it. Why they should want a 'selfy' photo with an ugly old git like me I cannot understand. It seemed to amuse them.
I paid a visit, only because I happened to pass it on Ly Thu Trong street near my hotel, to the Ho Chi Minh City Museum. £1 entry. It contained nothing particularly interesting. Much about local arts and crafts and industry and a section on the French and American conflicts (nothing like the War Remnants Museum). There was a whoIe room, full of photos and documents, dedicated to a bloke called Vo Van Kiet. I discovered that he was a much admired revolutionary and eventually Prime Minister (b.1922-d.2008). He was credited with bringing the dour post Vietnam War communist system into the 20th century, and rekindled good, and profitable, relations with the West.
Left: The sleeping quarters of a revolutionary soldier. Hmmm! How interesting. I was going to pretend it was my accommodation, but you probably wouldn't have believed me.
In fact, having an elegant interior and a wide sweeping staircase, this building's main function is as a setting for the mandatory 'pre-wedding' photos. Several teams of lovingly betrothed couples with their film/camera crews were in evidence. I gate-crashed one photo shoot. Right: They were more than happy for me to do this.
Left: Parked outside were a few old military guns and vehicles, including this T62 (?) Soviet built tank.
Right: .....and this charming old jalopy; a vintage Citroen in a sad state of dereliction.
Left: One of the many reindeer-horned waitresses about town. These, and Father Christmas hats, were the favoured head-gear of the staff at many venues.
That will do for the time being. It has taken me three Tiger beers to write it. I am off next, by bus, to the charming city of Da Lat. I will, hopefully, report from there.
PS. Most of what I have written, and will write about from Da Lat, has already been covered in previous blogs, but expect my reader will have forgotten. I don't intend to do all the interesting things in Da Lat that I did the last time. Déjà Vu! Just to relax and admire the flowers.
Well, it's time to escape on my annual 'Bah Humbug Chrexodus' and, as far as possible, avoid all the hassle and commercial exploitation of the sordid 'Festive Season' in the Western World!
So, off on a well-trodden path to the lovely country of Việt Nam. OK, you can't even avoid it here. As I write this I am sitting in a pleasantly warm outside café in the centre of Saigon with a glass of beer and goddamn 'We wiss yu a Melly Clissmas' playing loudly on speakers in the backgound plus lovely waitresses wearing reindeer horn headdress. I mean, they have absolutely zilch idea of what 'Clissmas' is, except it's an opportunity to sell things to tourists like me! You try to explain the connection between 'Jinger Bells', Snow (which none of them have even seen, likewise reindeer), 'One Horse Open Sleighs', Father Clissmas, Wise Men with camels and babies born in mangers and you soon find yourself floundering.
I had booked a flight with (to me) a previously unknown airline called 'Bamboo Airways'. I had done some research and found flights with major airlines to Ho Chi Minh (Saigon) had doubled in price since I last visited in 2019 (I think). 'Bamboo' were advertising prices considerably cheaper and easy to book, so I did.
The flight was due to depart London Gatwick Airport (or Gatport Airwick as it is sometimes known) at 10.35am on 7th December. After a night endured at the local Gatwick Travelodge I arrived, as is my habit, with plenty of time to spare. I found the 'No.1' VIP lounge in departures which, at a 'reduced' cost of £25 offered unlimited time for breakfast, food and drinks. I splashed out (a Clissmas plesant to myself) and actually much enjoyed the facilities. They provide a great 'traditional English' breakfast, other food and as much drink of whatever variety you wish. As always, I made sure I got my money's worth. (nota bene 'apostrophe tsar' Bernie!).
I was informed at the boarding gate that this was 'Bamboo's' inaugural flight from UK to Vietnam and was given a complimentary decorated biscuit to mark the occasion. The flight boarded on time and the aircraft was a spanking new wide-bodied Boeing 787-9 'Dreamliner'. It has a capacity of 280 passengers and there was not a seat unfilled! It was just as well I had booked early. The passengers consisted of about 50/50 western tourists and Vietnamese (I presume). I, of course, was in the tourist class seating (they had a very expensive business/1st class of which I have no experience nowadays).
Right: My complimentary biscuit from Bamboo Airways. I will treasure it.
Amongst the 4 flight-deck crew was a British Captain. The cabin-crew were delightful and attractive Vietnamese. They wore face-masks, sadly! Talking of which, I was worried that we passengers might be forced to wear the hideous and useless blasted things. We were not, and I only noticed 2 'TIMs' on board (see a previous blog for what they are).
It was to be a 12.5 hour flight. I hoped they had filled up with plenty of petrol! It was a pleasant enough flight and we were well attended to by the delightful and charming cabin crew (kneeling down to serve you). There were no fat super-annuated old bats as employed by some of the more 'established' airlines. If some of those had knelt down to serve you they probably wouldn't have been able to get up again. The lunch, supper and breakfast meals provided were very decent by tourist class standards. The seatback video machines were easy to operate and had a wide variety of things to watch and listen to, plus a good 'air-map' of where we were at any time. My only complaint was that they ran out of beer and wine after about 5 hours! I was not entirely responsible for this.
Left: The route. We passed just south of Mt. Everest, to the nose of the aircraft in the photo. It was dark and I had no vision outside as I was sitting in a centre section aisle seat. I think the distance we flew between London and Saigon was about 6,500 miles at an altitude of 33,000 ft. Click on to enlarge.
We landed at Tan Son Nhat (Saigon) airport at about 6.00am local time, hassle free through passport control and with no baggage checks. I always find it interesting that all the staff here, and they look smart, are Vietnamese. If you arrive at any airport in Britain you would be forgiven for wondering, seeing the scruffy staff (if they are not on strike), which country you are in. We are 'diverse'; they are not, which is a whole different story.
Taxi to my hotel, the Hotel Thiện Hải in the centre, District 1. A bargain at about £20 per night. I last stayed here in 2019 and was greeted like returning Royalty! They have amazing memories. I must have done something to impress them; probably my efforts to speak Vietnamese which always causes amusement, if not comprehension. Anyway, it is a very comfortable and friendly place and if any of you end up in Saigon I strongly recommend it. Forget the lavish 5 star jobs. Talking of taxis, and if you read my previous blogs you will realise my antipathy towards taxis! Fortunately I know the ropes here. Greeted by 'cowboys' at arrivals where they tried to rip me off with quotes of 350,000 Dong (about £12) to District 1. I knew to use the metered Vinasun brand and found one at the end of the line. It cost 150,000 Dong (£5) to the front door of the hotel. The driver was also a cheery chap who appeared amused by my futile efforts to chat in the local lingo.
I spent the day firstly by having a good kip, visited a couple of coffee shops (they all have good WiFi) then to supper at a great bar/restaurant called The Refinery on Hai Ba Trung St (Two Old Ladies St. There is a story to that). It's origins were as an opium refinery and den in the 19th century. When I was last here it was owned and run by a French lady ex-pat, the wife of an English friend of mine. It is popular with the ex-pat community.
Then on to the swish Caravelle Hotel in the main Lam Son Square. This was a famous watering hole for press and reporters during the 'American' war (as they refer to it here) up to 1975. It has an elegant roof-top cocktail bar on the 9th floor. They normally have a good band playing, and that night it was, as often, a Cuban salsa outfit. Great stuff, and I treated myself to a dry martini and watched. Lots of people got up to dance (right); of course I didn't. It is a lovely bar and wasn't even that expensive.
Left. The view from the bar down to Lam Son Square. The buildings, many of French colonial style, are all beautifully lit up. In the foreground is the Grand Opera House, and behind it the Continental Hotel. Very expensive. The author Graham Greene used to have a suite there. This author could never afford to stay there!
Right: The Opera House. Currently doing The Nutcracker.
Left: The City Hall.
Right: A typical street-side Vietnamese restaurant. They serve delicious and remarkably cheap food. My sort of place.
That will do for now. I have no great plans but intend to travel around a bit. Most of the places I will visit have already been covered in previous blogs so maybe there will bea lack of repeat 'reporting' from them. I just intend to enjoy a non-Christmas holiday.
PS. The concept of people going 'on strike' in this country is unthinkable. They value being employed whether as a street cleaner or a businessman. If they have no job they invent one. As an example, I have just had my shoes cleaned by a street urchin and 'friend' (organised gang probably). They not only polished them they put on much needed new heels. It cost me the equivalent of £3. They were happy, as was I. Good luck to them. The likes of that bolshy trades unionist 'leader' Mick Grynch would get laughed off the streets here!
The statue of the Unknown Partisan, or maybe the Partknown Unisan.
There were bits of blue sky on Monday! Only temporary of course. The statue above is to the east of the Square. I think it relates to the partisans in WW2 who were largely responsible for getting rid of the Germans in 1944.
Left: Tirana Castle, or what's left of it. This 'castle' is in the centre and the original dates back to before 1300, a remnant from the Byzantine era (of which I know little). It was fought over for hundreds of years and is now almost non-existant. The gate at the front, guarded by these odd looking 'sentinels', is rebuilt and there is little, if anything, left of the original walls. Inside there are lots of smart restaurants, cafés and upmarket shops stretching along a wide 'mall'. I believe there are efforts being made to restore the original, but there really isn't an 'original' to restore. They would have to start building from scratch.
Right: The Orthodox Church of the Holy Annunciation. It was close to my hotel on Rruga Ibrahim Rugova. It was only built in 1964 but closed in 1967 after Enver Hoxha began his anti-religion crusade. It became a sports club until 1990 when it was restored to it's original use.
Left: The tall and elegant bell tower at this church. It contained lots of bells, but I never heard them ringing. Maybe only on 'special' occasions.
Right: The New Bazaar. An extensive covered market to the east of the Square. It sold all sorts of things, including fruit and veg, souvenirs, jewellery, tat and elaborate rugs as in this photo.
I had a good lunch at a very pleasant restaurant nearby (left). I still couldn't get over the sheer number of such eateries and bars in this part of town.
....most of which catered for the large number of enthusiastic smokers (right).
Over the few days I was here a large open-air auditorium was being set up in Scanderbeg Square (left) to show the World Cup footer. It was enclosed on three side by tented cafés and bars.
Right: On Monday (21st) the England v Iran game was being shown. It cost nothing to get in but there were very few in the audience. They were still in the process of setting up the refreshment stations. When I went in it was still 0-0. The games were being televised in most of the restaurants and bars around the city. You couldn't avoid it.
Left: Interestingly, this construction was sponsored by Coca-Cola and, of all things, Hamley's Toy Shops. The heavens were about to open again which might explain the empty seats.
There were many other sights to see which, largely because of the rain, I didn't.
I should have spent more time visiting some of the museums but rather idly spent too much time in the local hostelries!
I departed on Tuesday morning having booked a flight back to London via Frankfurt.
The airport buses (LUNA, behind the girls) left from the south side of Scanderbeg Square, on the hour every hour. They seemed very efficient and the journey, which took about 50 minutes, cost a mere 400 Lek (£3 approx), payable on the bus.
I left at 9.00am and the traffic coming into the city was gridlocked. Miles of queues. It must take a long time to get into town at rush hour. Not too bad getting out.
On the way we passed this 'grand' looking building with a statue of a charioteer on the top. Poor photo (right) taken through the bus window and it was raining, of course. I have yet to discover what it is. I expect my 'OMPITA' research department will let me know.
The research department at OMPITA came up trumps yet again! This building above is the Amadeus Palace Hotel, about 10 miles NW of Tirana. It is a very posh and expensive place with swimming pools, a spa and golf course etc. Well above my pay station!
Tirana airport was, compared to most others, a delight. It was uncrowded (OK, it is not a large major hub) with no queuing for anything.
It had decent cafés (right) selling good food including delicious sticky cakes.
.....and, naturally, plenty of smoking areas.
I discovered the 'VIP' Lounge (right), rather later than I should have. I had arrived with a couple of hours to spare. It was a bargain! For the equivalent of £15 you could spend as long as you liked in there and help yourself to unlimited food and drink. It was very comfortable with all the electronic facilities for your computer etc. I think that there were only two of us in there at the time. I certainly got my money's worth.
Checking-in was entirely hassle-free, and the checks through security were courteously, efficiently and quickly conducted with none of the 'hassle' and 'bossiness' (and queues) you often get at places like Heathrow.
Left: Check-in desks displayed this seemingly omnipresent 'Kastrati' sign, as per most of the petrol stations. Kastrati, as I found out, is a privately owned petroleum company based in Albania. Rather an unfortunate name in my opinion.
The flight back, with Lufthansa, was fairly straightforward except for the transfer at Frankfurt which involved walking for miles, and partly by bus, to another gate, badly signposted, with 40 minutes to do it in. I was convinced I was going to miss the connection but, sweating and irate, I made it. Frankfurt airport is a nightmare.
So that concludes my short stay in Albania. I was left with a most favourable impression of the place and the people. I expect it is a great place to go for a beach holiday in the summer...when the rain has stopped. Definitely recommended!
The first thing I did on this visit was to take a walk around the large 'artificial' Xuan Huong lake. It is a walk of about 2 miles and good exercise after my bus journey. I passed this interesting 'ark-like' construction (left). It had a sort of 'crib' display inside.
