The international mystery of wearing grape smugglers

Macedonia immediately felt like a world away from Albania. From the moment we crossed the border there was a different atmosphere and appearance to the country. Where Albania is a chaotic mix of almost feudal traditions and cultures coupled with a modern ‘coffee culture’ that would put Paris to shame, Macedonia immediately felt far more settled and relaxed than its neighbour. Gone were the piles of rubbish along the side of the road, the half completed building projects and unkempt gardens. In their place were manicured lawns, red tiled houses and a distinct lack of farmyard animals making the roads seem less like Mario kart and more like a 21st century highway. This may be to do with Macedonia’s less turbulent history that saw it become the only former Yugoslavia nation to peacefully leave the former federation after its collapse in 1991. This is not to say that it has been an easy transition. Economic turmoil in the 90’s was created when shady take overs of previously state owned infrastructure created a number of oligarchs. There has also been immense political pressure from its neighbours (Greece, Bulgaria and Albania) over the very creation of a Macedonian identity and the sovereign future of Macedonia is not immediately clear whilst they are continually blocked from joining the EU and NATO. Our first stop in Macedonia would be the town of Ohrid, its leading tourist destination.

The town combines a beautiful old settlement with a not overbearing modern twist of restaurants and bars that look out across the expansive waters of Lake Ohrid.  Reaching depths of 300 meters and estimated to be 300 million years old the lake is one of the oldest and deepest in Europe and crosses into Albania at its furthest point.  This also means that the entire Macedonian navy (comprising of one small vessel) is based on the lake and gave me a lot of amusement as it passed the town on its patrol around the lake!  We spent our time in Ohrid swimming in the lake and visiting the famous churches, castle walls and ruins that overlook the town.  The iconic sight of the church of Sveti Jovan is set among trees on a cliff edge overlooking the azure waters of the lake below.  It makes for a Kodak moment from both above and below as you can also swim around the base of the cliff and gaze up at the remarkable setting.  Traveling further up the hill away from the church led us to Car Samoil’s Castle.  Although not much in terms of the ruins the views over the town and lake from the restored ramparts were well worth the walk.

The only drawback with Ohrid came on the small pebble beaches that surround the lake.  For me there are three cardinal sins when sitting on a beach and unfortunately all three were in abundance along the shore:

1.          Dire music blaring out disturbing an otherwise idyllic setting
2.     A beach that resembles a Weatherspoon’s ashtray
3.     Men parading around in tiny speedos

We were initially forced to move from the first beach we laid our towels on when a man started singing classic Macedonian ballads (judging by the reaction of the locals signing blissfully along), accompanied by a keyboard backing track that is normally only found at the most classy of establishments worldwide.  Sin number two was then made clear as we fled the scene shaking the cigarette ends from our towels, thankfully rounding the nearest corner of the bay before the next song had broken out. Unfortunately one man took beach depravity to a whole new level as we settled down below the shadow of the church, away from the dulcet tones of the Macedonian Tom Jones.  He lay in front of us on the lake edge, reclined with one knee cocked up in the air, legs stretched out before him wearing the smallest and tightest speedos imaginable. It was as if he had woken up with the expressed intention of offending everybody along the beach.  To put into perspective how bad his appearance was he was rejected from a loud game of cards his friends were involved in that even a Brian May look alike in pink speedos and a gentleman that proceeded to make animal like nasal snorts every 30 seconds were welcomed into with open arms.  This however sent the banana hammock wearing cockwomble back into my vision and he proceeded to settle back down two foot away from my face. Having spoken to friends of both sexes about the merits of wearing grape smugglers I am left in no doubt that both sexes are equally insulted by them and yet so many men persist in marching about in them like Napoleon Bonaparte on beaches the world over.  The mystery of mans need to wear speedos is a  complex topic and not one I am able to solve on a blog.