Albania. We’ve been and gone, but won’t forget you fast.
Our first impressions were that there was almost no graffiti in the city except for political slogans and jewels of street wisdom such as “fuck me hardcore.” We also knew at least of our suitcases hadn’t made it with us. But before even leaving the airport we began to see the hospitality that this country is rich in. The airport is where Morcky accidentally met who was to become our unofficial tour guide, Irte. Biggest thanks to Irte for helping us with everything from finding materials (and the only place in town to buy real spraypaint), speaking with people about painting their walls, defending us the few times it wasn’t welcome, andshowing us great places to eat, as well as sharing the “real stories” about the local politicians, restaurant owners, tv hosts, and other characters we met while in town.
This was proper street exchange and shared experiences using our paint and their walls as currency. Tips were accepted in the form of a beer or raki and smiles and stories were traded freely.
If a picture is worth 1000 words, then we antied up for something like a million. Check all the content here.
