Tag Archives: Albania

Signs of Death

Here’s something you don’t expect to see if you’re an American taking a walk near your home: a poster telling you that one of your neighbors just died.

We’ve seen these death notices throughout our travels in the Balkans and now in Italy.

Gjakovë, Kosovo

Across the region, families place notices about their departed loved ones on public walls and elsewhere. The posters typically include a photo of the deceased and facts such as their age and next of kin, along with funeral plans. In other words, much like a death notice or brief obituary in the United States.

Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina

However, the posters are much more public than a typical American notification. They’re a quick way to alert neighbors who may not be connected online or read a newspaper.

As the comedian George Burns famously said, “I get up every morning, read the obituary page. If my name’s not there, I have breakfast.”

Durrës, Albania

I’ve found something comforting in how this tradition is being maintained, in both Christian and Muslim communities here, while our own methods of announcing deaths evolve rapidly. Published obituaries in local U.S. papers have given way to Legacy.com, Facebook memorials, e-mail chains and other online systems. Social media is now the first place we learn of many deaths. The notifications themselves may be less formal, more personal, even funny.

Bari, Italy

I didn’t expect to spend time thinking about death customs during this trip but the posters are omnipresent. As someone who publishes almost exclusively online these days, I like how these posters brave the elements and slowly decay, like death itself.

When I’m back home in North Carolina and taking my daily walks, I’ll miss seeing them.

Naples, Italy

Top photo: Naples

Rest Stop Paradise

I’ve discovered paradise in an unlikely place: highway rest stops in the Balkans. 

They have great food at reasonable prices, comfortable dining rooms, immaculate bathrooms and other amenities. They’re places you want to stop. 

By contrast, most highway rest stops in the United States are, at best, functional. Their food options typically range from vending machine candy bars to overpriced Auntie Anne’s Pretzels and Cinnabons. You often have to wait in a long line to buy coffee or a burger from an overworked employee, then eat with plastic utensils at a nondescript table. Toilet stalls in the rest rooms may be broken and noise from the hand dryers can be deafening. 

Not all U.S. rest stops are so grim, of course, but plenty are. They have to serve a much larger number of people and vehicles, with facilities that may be aging, but few even aspire to genuinely good food and ambiance. (They are vastly better, however, than some disgusting places I’ve seen in South Asia and elsewhere.)

I was surprised when I encountered the first highway rest stop of our Balkans trip, in Croatia. Their cafeteria served a variety of attractive entrees along with freshly baked breads and pastries. I enjoyed a pistachio croissant with a cappuccino. 

As we continued to travel during the next two weeks, I kept finding good food, good prices and pleasant surroundings — all in a part of the world that’s still “developing.”

By way of example, here are some photos from our stop on Wednesday at the NBT Oil gas station in the Mirdita region of northern Albania, heading on the highway towards Kosovo.

Their cafeteria offered steak, chicken, fish, lasagna and other entrees, along with local specialties, homemade soups, fresh vegetables and desserts. The prices were the same as you’d find in a local restaurant, without the big markup we expect at rest stops back home.

They also had a well-stocked convenience store, a fresh fruit stand, a car wash, an outdoor cafe, a bar (presumably for non-drivers) and a Buddha statue outside the bathrooms, which were large and clean. The gas pump areas were sparkling.

Take a look:

Unexpected discoveries like this often linger the longest with me after a trip. The next time I find myself at the Vince Lombardi Service Area on the New Jersey Turnpike, I expect I’ll recall the Balkans fondly.