Leaving the House, Carrying the Warmth
Daily miles: 32.32 | Total miles: 12,414.90
After a short night of sleep, my alarm rang at 5:50 am. I crawled out from under a heavy, somewhat warm blanket and stepped straight into winter. I was still wrapped in layers, not quite ready to face the cold, and needed a moment to get dressed. Brrr.
I hadn’t even left the room yet when I saw Bardhi’s car headlights arriving. We had said 6:30 am, but there he was. I let him in and prepared a cold coffee while he was already moving through the house, checking things, doing what he does. I quietly got ready, aware of the rain and carefully organizing my dry clothes, just in case I needed to change later on.
By 6:30 am, everything was loaded into Bardhi’s Mercedes. Techno music playing from the radio, we drove down the gravel road, through potholes and bumps. Bardhi, of course, handled it all with ease. He’s a great driver and thinks of everything. What touched me most was the pride he carries—for his house, his family, his country, the nature, and the future possibilities he sees ahead. His smile and enthusiasm were contagious. I love people whose words and actions clearly come straight from the heart. That’s a gift.
I had already sensed it the day before, the moment he got out of the car and started helping, arranging, caring. Meeting people like you, Bardhi, is a blessing. (And yes—sorry again for misspelling your name in the reel. I should have double-checked.)
He seemed a bit confused by the whole idea of leaving me alone in the rain, in the cold, with just the road ahead and the buggy not even fully assembled yet. But I thanked him, and he drove off. Cold and already a bit wet, I was still in good spirits.
About three miles in, I passed a gas station in Kote. A man sitting inside, drinking coffee, waved me in. Of course—coffee with locals is always a good way to start the day. They invited me to a strong espresso, and I told them about my run. I took one jacket off, warmed up, and we all moved on with our days.
In town, I stopped at a supermarket and found the scones Dimitria had given me the day before. They’re called Kulaç—Albanian soda bread. Further down the road, some women were selling börek and other homemade goodies. I bought one with spinach for dinner. It was very, very good.
The day stayed mostly dry—just drizzle now and then—and I appreciated that. I passed the Arch of Drashovice, a monumental structure, and somewhere along the way met a man named Aristoteles. We had a short, friendly chat. Bardhi had offered me a Red Bull the day before, so I carried one along for the stereotypical moment: drinking a Red Bull in Albania, halfway through the day, just to see if it really gives you wings.
Later, I ran past a large cemetery—Varrezat Vlorë. It was beautiful and unexpectedly emotional. Childhood memories surfaced, and tears came to my eyes. Thinking of all those individuals, each with their own story, reminded me how much we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us. It was a powerful moment.
The road then ran parallel to the highway, with the ocean visible in the distance. I felt lucky again—mostly dry, surrounded by beauty. I saw many sheep and goats, and today even a flock of about 30 wild turkeys. I caught myself imagining the males doing their springtime dances. I love that.
During the last part of the day, I reflected on how being in nature for so many hours, day after day, puts everything into perspective. It teaches me patience, humility, and gratitude. I’m deeply thankful to live this life, to have this opportunity.
Once I arrived in Levan, where I had booked a room—and after communicating clearly ahead of time to avoid unnecessary confusion—I stopped at a small market. Oranges, milk, a banana, a pepper, and water. Simple things. Then I checked into a beautiful room with a heater. I took a hot shower, washed my hair—hallelujah—and finally sat down for dinner.
Another full day.
Thanks for checking in. Andrea
P.S. Sorry I can’t add pictures today due to a server error.