Traversing through Orikum (*new post)

I went to Orikum today to explore its tourism potential with Kacey. We found out about a centuries old church and wanted to explore how to get there so that we can promote Orikum's (and, Orikum being in the state of Vlore, Vlore's) cultural and historical heritage and showcase its non-beach assets.

Though we didn't know exactly where it was, were roughly aware of the direction. We set off due west and asked on the way.

As the town faded we saw more shepherds and dogs. Donkeys were grazing and the path was peaceful. The dirt road was quiet as people farmed, stayed inside and generally kept to themselves. However, they were quite helpful when asked directions, clearly excited that someone, tourists non the less, were interested in venturing out.

We crossed a stream with rocks laid out for passing. The shrub grew taller and more scratchy. We spotted the church in the distance, standing alone, its simplistic, ceremonious white forms emerging from the green bush. Lacking a defined path from the stream to the church, I realized that my navy shorts were no match for the tall brush and decided to stop at the brush. While I stopped I decided to fix the path, getting my exercise the very old fashioned way: by moving stones.

Kacey was determined to forge on, and she did. Her strength and determination did not let the brush get her as she pushed all the way to the church. The insides, though slightly neglected were beautiful.


She deposited a bouquet she had brought in remembrance and enjoyed the quiet solitude.

Walking back we passed a few fisherman and discussed the church's promise. We brainstormed different restoration grants and possible sustainable projects that could highlight this unknown yet powerful gem. So immersed we were that I didn't notice the pack of 3 very hungry attack dogs on the path. Not stray dogs, these dogs were meant to attack. Fear seeping forth from me, both visibly and inside. Even Kacey, a dog lover to the end, was fearful. The dogs came closer and I literally feared for my life. The story of the women being eaten to death in San Fran by her horribly bigoted neighbors came to mind. As the approached within 3 feet I think I started shaking. Precisely at that moment their owner came, screamed at them, and hit them ferociously with a stick. He apologized to us, and we walked on.

Not having much personal dog experience (my mother is deathly allergic so it wasn't an option growing up) I asked Kacey if we had in fact been in true danger. She asked me if I could handle the truth, which I could. Yes, she said, yes we had been.

We made a note that in addition to building a path and marking the church we'd have to discuss the attack dogs as other persons might not be as lucky.