Tirana, The Capital

We took a packed mini bus into Tirana, the capital of Albania. It is about a two and a half hour trip of being tossed, bounced, jostled and bumped some more along heavily potted and rutted roads connecting smooth highways through a verdant countryside sprinkled with small family farms. The city itself is quite large with grand boulevards and spacious parks at the center of town. You can feel the eastern block Soviet influence in the government buildings. But any sign of communist rule has been scrubbed clean. Albania is boldly trying to push themselves into the modern world. For me, the most exciting place to visit was the Art History Museum. I love socialist propaganda art with its workers of the world as heroic figures. Massive arms pounding iron with hammers big enough to demolish a house and women charging into battle with rifles in hand wearing angelic faces fighting for glory. It is a style that eastern block countries perfected and Albania had some astonishing examples of this genre. I loved it. We stayed at a old stone hotel near the center of town that was reasonably priced and convenient. The hotel had an inviting restaurant attached to it right off the lobby. While we were checking in, I noticed one of the waiters walking his eyes all over us. He especially would just stare at my crotch. My gadar was pinging but, hey it is Albania and there are no gays in Albania.(lol) A couple of nights later we ended up eating at the hotel restaurant and the same guy was our waiter for the evening. He numbly broached the subject asking us where we were both from. When we said we were from San Francisco, he asked us if we lived together, then confessed to us in a hardly audible voice that he was gay. He wanted to talk to us but was terrified to do it at the restaurant. If anyone found out, he would be instantly fired. So our new best friend came up with a plan. After we were done eating he told us to order coffee be brought up to our room. We went up to our room and in a couple of minutes he brought in a tray of coffee. The waiter was still as jumpy as popcorn in hot oil, and was scared to stay more than a minute, but so wanted to talk to us. He said that he got off work at 11:30 and asked if we could wait for him at the end of the block far from the restaurant. Intrigued by the plot of a spy novel unfolding, we rendezvoused at the coded spot. We ended up walking around town with him as he spilled his story and life of a gay man in Albania. He had actually never been with a guy before. Our buddy was married and recently became a father of a baby girl. It is what you have to do if you are gay in Albania, and he was resigned to playing the part society dictates. There was really no place he felt comfortable being gay. No bars, no dance clubs, even the internet seemed too risky for him. My mind regressed back to my own life when I also thought the course was laid out for me what was expected. Maybe in 30 years, things will change.