THE LOST WATCH

A couple of days ago, I lost my watch. It didn’t have any particularly sentimental value, but it was a substantial hunk of stainless steel that kept perfect time, and I liked its heft on my wrist, the closest I come to the feeling of testosterone-fueled masculinity these days. The only reason I was using it again after 25 years was to avoid having to charge my Apple Watch every night while I'm traveling. My iPhone, laptop, and camera battery chargers take up enough counter space already, and the counters of some ‘hotels’ I stay in, not to mention the lack of power outlets, often relegate my charging stations to the floor.

I was in Albania, and how’s that for a name drop! When I was growing up in England, Albania held the same mystery as North Korea does today. It was a secretive, closed country with no one allowed in or out, and it was just over 30 years ago that the communist regime was overthrown and the country slowly opened up to foreigners. While Dubrovnik, in Croatia, is overrun by tourists hemorrhaging from massive cruise ships, Albania, only a few miles away, is largely ignored.

I didn’t know anyone who had visited Albania. It is the least known corner of Europe, and that was the irresistible attraction. I was there with a small group of photographers on one of our Lumaria Photo Workshops in conjunction with our partner, Mejdi Tours. Andréa Johnson and I designed these workshops specifically to get beyond the obvious highlights and spend time with people whose stories are often overlooked.

We had already been to Serbia, Bosnia, and Montenegro, never far from other tourists who occupied more of the landscape than we would have wished. Eventually, we reached Kotor in Montenegro, an ancient and charming but tourist-dominated town, a stop on the Adriatic cruise itinerary that skirts the Adriatic coast. The population of the old town of Kotor is around 1,400, but the town attracts well over 250,000 visitors every year. You get the picture.

A massive, 1,960 passenger cruise ship blocks views from the old city of Kotor

The good and the bad of Kotor

This UNESCO World Heritage site deserves better than this, but like Dubrovnik, unless there is some control of cruise ships, change is not in the air. The solution for those of us not bound to the indulgences, or indignities, of cruise travel is to get out early and stay out late when the cruise ship passengers are stuffing their faces at the all-you-can-eat buffets on board their over-priced, floating theme parks.

During these edges of the day, the cobbled streets of the old town can be explored in peace. The myriad of shops selling tourist tchotchkes are not yet open. A few coffee shops lining the narrow, cobbled streets cater primarily to locals. The aroma of freshly baked bread creeps out of a tiny bakery just off one of the squares that will soon be filled with tourists. This is old Europe as we always hope to experience it.

Deliveries are made early morning on the steep, narrow, cobbled streets of old Kotor

Albania is only a four-hour drive from Kotor, but the winding road that skirts the Adriatic and crosses mountain passes leads to a country clinging to authenticity. After the intense crowds of Kotor, Albania is refreshingly unspoiled. Of course, there are still tourists; I’m not the only person intrigued by the unknown, but in this surprisingly mountainous country, foreigners tend to stick to the towns, leaving the countryside the way it has been for centuries.

Mountains loom over Berat in central Albania.

The coast of Albania is a different matter. This has been discovered over the past few years and while it still isn’t the zoo of most European coastal resort destinations, the atmosphere is more international than Albanian.

We were more interested in rural Albania. Where else can you visit a remote donkey farm and drink fresh milk straight from the donkey?

Gomarca Donkey Farm, Elbasan, Albanis

As a photographer, one of my primary interests is documenting disappearing cultures. In Europe, this is becoming an increasingly difficult quest, but there are still pockets in Eastern Europe that cling to their traditional way of life.

I can get obsessed with finding the best shots, but the best experiences often don’t involve photographs at all. A family of musicians in a remote Albanian village invited us into their home. Food appeared on the table, plate after plate of local delicacies, some savory, some sweet, maybe a bit too sweet. Then came bottles of raki, a potent brandy made from local grapes, with an alcohol content over 50%. It didn’t take long for the music to start. These are the memories that never leave you.

And then the party started. Photo: Andréa Johnson

A late-afternoon espresso in a Bosnian village evokes a link to another era.

Anyway, back to my watch. Last Friday, I had a late dinner with my group of photographers in Berat in the heart of Albania. Berat is known for its Ottoman architecture, which has earned it UNESCO World Heritage status. The town is famously known as the City of a Thousand Windows, although I’m not sure if “famous” applies to a place few people have ever heard of.

Ottoman houses cascade down a hillside in Berat.

It was late evening when we left Berat and got back to Tirana, the capital, at midnight in time for early-morning flights home.

I always take off my watch just before I get into bed and place it on the bedside table. This is an automatic ritual and like most things we do by rote, I’m not even aware I’m doing it. I was up at 6 the next morning, ready to leave for the airport at 7. I took my usual morning shower, dressed and looked for my watch by the bed. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the bathroom. Maybe I had put it down on the bed. Not there either.

I had packed very late the night before so had I put it in my luggage by accident? Not as far as I could see.

We all lose things at one time or another and usually they reappear when you least expect it. Sometimes they don’t.

Over 40 years ago, I bought a Radio Shack TRS-80, one of the first truly portable computers. I took it with me to Bhutan in 1986 and while I was there, I wrote the final article for a series I had been assigned by a British photography magazine. Something in the rarified Bhutanese air lubricated my writing chops and the article effortlessly flowed out of me.

The TRS-80 had limited internal memory so I used memory modules that plugged into the side of the computer.

I had to file my copy immediately after spending 4 weeks on the road. The public internet didn’t exist in those days and hard copy had to be sent by snail mail. I booted up the computer, plugged in the memory module, and opened the file to print, or, at least tried to. Nothing came up. There was no trace of anything I had written. I’m sure many of you have experienced this feeling, when you can’t believe something has really disappeared. It was days before I accepted that a couple of pins in the memory module had bent during my travels and shorted out, erasing everything on the card. I could never satisfactorily recreate what I had written.

And so it was with my watch. I thoroughly searched the hotel room, or so I thought. I called the hotel twice to see if the maid service had found anything. I searched my luggage repeatedly, but nothing! I still can’t believe it just vanished, and I cling to the hope that it will appear in some forgotten corner of my bags. I’m not holding my breath.

A few years ago, after flying through Miami, I realized I had lost both my Global Entry card and my Green Card. I had obviously used them to get through immigration, but they had disappeared. Again, I searched everywhere. At a significant expense, I replaced both cards. Three years later, I was cleaning out my closet and felt something in a pocket of a travel vest I used to wear, one of those vests with over 20 pockets. Sure enough, it was my lost cards. How I could have missed them is beyond comprehension. I hold on to the hope that my watch will similarly, magically resurface, even though a big chunk of stainless steel is hard to overlook.

The good news is that I found an identical replacement on eBay, and I won the auction. It arrives this week. I just hope it’s not the one I lost!

WHAT I’VE BEEN WATCHING

I’ve been taking a lot of long-haul flights recently. Trapped 38,000 feet up in the air is potentially a perfect time to catch up on movies I’ve missed. The problem on my last four flights has been to find anything worth watching.

However, I’m an unapologetic fan of Neil Diamond, and who doesn’t know the words to Sweet Caroline? I’ve wanted to see Song Sung Blue for the longest time and this was my chance. Both Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson gave remarkable performances as Mike and Claire Sardina, who were a real couple. The movie sticks closely to their actual life, and they really did open for Pearl Jam and sing with Eddie Vedder. Their story is not what I expected. I won’t spoil it, but I certainly recommend it.

On my next flight, I watched Hamnet. High school English literature purged any interest I may have had in Shakespeare, but as there was nothing better to watch, it was either Hamnet or solitaire on my phone! What a surprise! It was one of the best movies I have watched in a very long time. Everything about the film was wonderful: acting, sets, costumes, script. Everything.

In my defense, Queen Elizabeth II had a similar aversion to Shakespeare, but thanks to Hamnet, mine has been renewed.

PET PEEVES

I guess the vast majority of people have smartphones these days. Even my daughters had a mobile phone in elementary school over 25 years ago, but QR codes replacing printed menus drives me crazy. I enjoy perusing a menu and wine list; it adds to the pleasure of dining out. Reading it on my phone doesn’t do it for me. I understood the necessity during the Covid pandemic, but now, 6 years later!!

EMBARRASING MOMENTS

Deluxe hotels have featured in my embarrassing moments with a disproportionate frequency.

Visiting Washington, D.C., for a meeting at National Geographic, I stayed at the Capitol Hilton, just a 10-minute walk from the White House. Charles Kogod, who at the time was the head of Special Publications at National Geographic, invited me and George Steinmetz, another Geographic photographer, for dinner at his house. Charles and I had a shared interest in wine, and he gave me a special bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that was produced to celebrate the National Geographic magazine’s centennial. I carefully put the bottle in the camera bag I was carrying over my shoulder.

Charles gave George and me a ride back to the Hilton, and when I got out of the car, my camera bag swung out, catapulting the precious bottle across the hotel entrance, smashing it into tiny fragments and spraying the dark red wine far and wide. It was quite the entrance.

You can read more about my travels and adventures in PASSAGES, a memoir available from Lumaria Editions.

Also, I give regular photo tips on my Instagram page at bobholmesphoto. Hope to see you there.

And that’s it for this week! Feel free to like this post, assuming you can find something to like, leave a comment, or share it with a friend. See you back here soon!