Bhuj Bound

We spent the last ten days in Shqipria (Albania in Albanian) with our friends Ardit and Nick.  Both are dear friends of mine from high school.  Ardit moved to the US in fourth grade, and in 10 years of friendship I’ve heard many stories of life growing up in his hometown Hoxharë.  When he told me his brother Klevis was getting married in Albania around the same time we'd be heading to India, I wrangled an invitation faster than you can say Shqipria. 

We’ve spent the last 4 days in sunny, fruit-filled Corfu, off the northeast corner of Greece.  We stayed in an apartment in the north of the island, in Acharavi, which was idyllic other than a wicked ATM that ate Ted’s credit card.  The friendly Greeks behind him in line for their daily cash ration of 60 euros offered conflicting advice: "Call the police!" "Go to Corfu Town!" "Revolt!" One old lady helpfully whacked the ATM with her cane.  We arrived on the day of the EU bailout referendum.  Other than a chatty No-voting shopkeep (“I want to live!”) and some fireworks when the results were announced (Corfu voted 71% No) we noticed no excitement whatsoever about the vote; everyone seems tired of the subject