“Hey!” He called out. “You survived Agnesa!”
“She’s a peach!” I called back and waved. “Thanks for the directions!”
He laughed and muttered something I didn’t understand. I really needed to find an Albanian language course. After my visit with Agnesa, I intended to come back here soon.
Ignoring the voice in the back of my head that reminded me I could always ask Besian for one-on-one lessons, I fell in behind a trio of men talking rapid fire Spanish. The tallest of them glanced back and then did a double take. My stomach fluttered at his obvious interest, especially when he grinned and slowed his pace. I politely returned his smile and didn’t discourage him when he moved beside me.
“I didn’t see you on the pass,” he said, his Spanish lilted in a way that sounded almost musical.
“I was staying with a friend for a few days,” I answered, my Spanish obviously not as pretty as his.
“American?” he guessed upon hearing my accent. “Texas?”
“How did you know Texas?” I asked, impressed.
“I work for Repsol,” he explained. “I spend a lot of time at our office there.”
“The Woodlands, right? By the lake?”
“Yes!”
“I’m from Houston. Small world, huh?”
“Very,” he said and held out his hand. “Andres.”
“Marley.” I shook his hand, noticing how strong it was and feeling a curious spark. Even though my heart had been entangled with Besian for so long, I still had moments of interest in other men. I had been on an endless stream of first or second dates that never went anywhere. Smiling up at Andres, I sensed this was a flirtation that would end the same way.
And, God, it was so frustrating.
Why couldn’t I let my unrequited feelings toward Besian go? Why couldn’t I just move on with my life and find someone who actually wanted to be with me?
Those questions rattled around in my head as I walked alongside Andres. We made our way down the trail to the dry riverbed and then took the rocky winding path to the village. The sun was starting to slide toward the horizon as we entered Valbona.
“Do you have a reservation at one of the hotels or guest houses?” Andres asked.
“I had one a few days ago. I want to go by and see if they have a room or any messages for me. I ran into a couple of sisters, and I had plans to meet them,” I explained. “Do you have a room booked?”
He shook his head. “We rarely book anything ahead of time.”
“You like spontaneity?”
“Yes. Miguel has a hotel he wants to try, though.” He noticed his friends had slowed down to wait for us. As we drew near, he asked, “Do you mind if I come by your hotel later? Maybe we can grab dinner?”
“I have dinner plans,” I said, already hungry for the meal Agnesa had packed for me. “I could meet you for a drink?”
“Okay.” Andres grinned and pulled out his mobile phone. “Can I get your number?”
We exchanged contact info and then went our separate ways. The walk through the village at dusk was pleasant, and I wished I had more time to explore before taking a taxi to the ferry in the morning. Maybe I could squeeze in a little night time exploration after checking in and having my dinner.
A woman with a friendly smile greeted me at the front reception of the hotel. I felt bad when she explained how worried she had been after I had missed my check-in and the two Danish sisters had inquired after me. Luckily, there was a room available, and she allowed me to use my pre-paid booking even though I hadn’t canceled according to the hotel’s policies.
With the key in one hand and a written message from the Danish sisters in the other, I made my way to my room. It was the smallest room, high up on the fourth floor, with a cozy balcony that overlooked the village. The mountains in the distance looked incredible, and I almost couldn’t believe I had been traipsing around up there for the last few days.
After washing up and changing into clean jeans and a top, I unpacked the dinner of freshly baked corn bread, soft cheese, pickled vegetables and Agnesa’s own homemade smoked sausage. She had included some figs, an apple and some dried fruit. The first bite of the sausage was spicy as hell, and I was glad for the bottle of water on the desk.
Feeling homesick and wanting to catch up with Aston, I dug my phone out of my backpack. I groaned when I realized the battery was dead. As I nibbled on some figs, I unzipped the various pockets on my backpack and rifled through the carefully packed contents trying to find my phone charger.
Shit.
Realizing I had left it behind at Agnesa’s house, I huffed with irritation. It wouldn’t be hard to find another one in a bigger city, but there hadn’t been any shops on the main road. Considering how bad the cell phone service was around here, I wasn’t surprised that a mobile phone kiosk wasn’t a priority.
A knock at the door surprised me. I had to rise up on my tiptoes to see through the peephole. Andres stood a few feet back from the door, making sure I could see him clearly.
“Hey!” I greeted after opening the door.
“I’m sorry to show up like this,” he apologized. “I tried texting you, but you didn’t answer.”
“Oh, yeah, my phone battery is dead. I left my charger up at Agnesa’s place.”
“You’re welcome to borrow mine,” he offered.
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“No, it’s fine. I actually came over to see if you wanted to join us for some drinks at our hotel. There’s a nice restaurant and bar.”
“Yeah. That’s sounds great. Let me grab my stuff.”
“Sure.”
Andres waited in the hallway while I grabbed my wallet, room key and dead phone. As we walked to his hotel, we chatted about our travels so far. He and his friends had started in the south of Albania and worked their way north. I had started in the north with no plans as of yet to go south.
“The beaches are incredible,” Andres said. “I’ve been to some beautiful places, but there’s some really wonderful about these Albanian beaches.”
“It’s a strange place, isn’t it? Like, not to sound silly,” I said with a sheepish smile, “but it’s almost magical in some ways.”
“I can see that.”
“I want to go home and tell everyone about how beautiful it is here and how nice the people are, but I also want to keep it a secret,” I admitted. “I look around, and I cringe thinking of tourists overrunning the place, you know?”
“I know what you mean, but,” Andres sighed, “eventually, some big influencer will come here and blow-up Instagram. Next thing you know, there will be hundreds of wannabes trampling the trails and acting like entitled shits to all the nice people we’ve met.”
I grimaced. “Ugh. I hate how easy that is to imagine.”
When we reached his hotel, Andres carried my phone up to his room to charge, and I took a seat at the table his traveling party had taken. There were two other groups with a mix of people in our age range all crammed in together. Soon, I had a bottle of Korça in hand and tried to keep up with the conversations swirling around me in English, Spanish, French and other languages I couldn’t place. Andres returned but didn’t squeeze in beside me as I had expected. He sat across from me and winked before grabbing his drink.