I don’t exactly know where or how I learnt about Lake Ohrid, or from there how the suggestion appeared on my bucket list, but there it was in the spreadsheet. Number 43 -Visit Lake Ohrid, one of Europe’s deepest and oldest lakes, with a unique aquatic ecosystem, and swim in its waters.
It was just one of several other European environmental entries on my living bucket list. ‘Living’, because firstly, no bucket list should ever be closed off, and new items should continually be added to match your enthusiasms as you come across new ideas, suggestions, or when the unusual catches your attention and that little voice inside goes ‘OK, there’s something here!’ In Lake Ohrid’s case, this ancient freshwater lake forms part of the border between Albania and North Macedonia, but apart from that interesting geographical pub quiz answer, I had very little other information on it, had never heard its name and simply wanted to find out more.
A year later, I received an email alerting me that TUI was offering a very attractive flight fare into Ohrid Airport from Manchester Airport, and a very simple plan came together, namely buy a ticket, go to Lake Ohrid, and stumble blindly around its countryside for a week and then travel through North Macedonia. After extensive research, which took at least five minutes, I bought a return flight ticket. I thought I would fill in some of the less interesting details in the two months before I departed, but first, I had to obtain senior management sign-off permission for the trip from the current Mrs Marshall. This was an essential step if I was successfully going to be allowed to travel solo on this trip.
In scenarios like this, I find a carefully crafted diplomatic approach works best in the Marshall household!
Photo by AZGAN MjESHTRI on Unsplash
Prelude & Scene Setting.
Imagine the scene where a tired General Practitioner returns home after a hard day’s work. She had direct patient contact with 21 ‘grateful’ patients (an awful NHS phrase developed in their management-speak laboratory to mean she has sat down face to face in her appointment room with a real live human being twenty-one times that day) and has had a further telephone consultations with a further twenty-seven. She is now faced with a mountain of post-supper paperwork (prescription requests, pathology reports, consultant letters and other inquiries), before bed with its realisation that the whole endless cycle repeats itself tomorrow. In common with Prometheus, as punishment for looking out for humankind’s well-being, she is picked away daily by people’s constant demands, only for those demands to be replenished and as plentiful the next day. She is tired, mentally whacked, and wants her first gin and tonic of the evening!
Imagine our sightless hero entering stage left, his hands outstretched like an overweight zombie, the recently retired husband. He is relishing freedom from the tyranny of the corporate necktie, the institutional yoke and the absence of inane Human Resources memos so beloved by the Civil Service. He has happily spent the day in idle bliss, in faffing (the ancient and honourable art of doing absolutely nothing actively all day, and in the knowledge of thumbs well twiddled. Admittedly as a wooing gift, he has just put on a fresh load of laundry and emptied the recycling basket. Not only is this a monumental demonstration of his love but also evidence of how active his day has been, and a male ape demonstration of ‘Look how good I am at providing for the family, and I do housework as I promised!’. He is, however, quietly hoping that she will empty the washing machine, transfer the washing to the drier, remove and fold the clothes and then put them away (aka the easy bit!). Domestic godhood successfully established, he is keen to progress the second part of his artful plan and gain approval for this travel!
He is confident and eager to tell his news; she is tired and is debating what level of seismic shock a triple gin would have on her liver enzyme levels and if the tonic is necessary midweek to get a much-needed alcoholic hit. She has propped up a medical magazine, ‘The Doctor’, in front of her – partially as a shield from the world and as she is still expected to remain knowledgeable on the latest research on haemorrhoids coming out of Bhutan hospitals. Just in case a future Barrister asks her the question when she is sued by a patient who hasn’t sat comfortably for seven years.
Unsplash+, In collaboration with Aakash Dhage
Act 1 – The Travel Announcement.
‘I’ve bought a return flight to North Macedonia’ was my subtle opening gambit in announcing my next travel project!
‘Why’ came Jane’s distant voice, barely bothering to look up from ‘Why Be Kind’, a dull article on the vital importance of crafting an insincere bedside manner she was reading in her magazine, as she casually flicked the full beam of her reading light into my remaining vision Gestapo style.
‘I want to go and visit a lake’ I pressed on confidently.
This caught her attention long enough to look up briefly before returning to the next article, ‘ Symptoms of a Crisis!’
She had also adopted that look that many other married women have that successfully combines the dual thoughts of ‘Why did I marry a complete idiot?’ with the more remorseful ‘I should have married that accountant when I had the chance?’. Finally, after a long pause, and almost as if she was in dire mental pain, she stirred herself to ask.
‘A Lake, Why?’
‘It is one of the oldest in the world, has a unique ecosystem, is supposed to be very beautiful, the region has a UNESCO listing, and Ohrid Town is jammed full of Ottoman architecture’.
I was babbling uncontrollably as I desperately tried to remember the information that five minutes of research had gifted me. Oh, why had I used that list so quickly? These points should underline my whole case, not just get dumped onto the table in a flow of words. Seriously, I thought, what was wrong with the woman? This place sounded brilliant!
‘Where is it?’ her tired voice asked.
‘North Macedonia!’ Great, I thought, she is beginning to express some interest.
Where? She asked.
Damm, she was good. ‘North of Greece, to the left-hand side of Albania, not as far as Bulgaria, achieved independence when Yugoslavia broke apart in the ’90s, has never won Eurovision!’
‘What language?’
‘Macedonian naturally.’ I responded, thinking at last some easy questions!
When?
Last week in June, the first week of July!
Now she finally looked up and became fully engaged in the conversation, I could tell this by how she had just put down her gin and was sharpening her nails on the granite kitchen worktop.
So, you are planning to visit a place and country you know nothing about! You don’t know a single word of the language! And finally, you are planning to do this trip without me guiding you around and then travel solo around the rest of the country! What can go wrong? Perhaps your brother isn’t the weirdest family member, and where is that little black book of past boyfriends’ numbers?
‘OK, but let me see how much your jaunt will cost me!
Photo by Jonas Stolle on Unsplash
Act 2 – What Succes feels like.
Whew, I had successfully passed through that interrogation. All the approval committee’s questions had been answered coherently with, logic and forethought, I had even expressed humility. To top it all, I hadn’t had to use my PowerPoint presentation this time, nor had she repeated her threat of free colonic irrigation. Life was looking good for the Blind Globetrotter!
The Lake Ohrid shoreline at Ohrid Town, Blindglobetrotter 2023
That was the rather casual start to this trip out to North Macedonia. Over the next few weeks, I put together my itinerary, booked most of my ‘there and back’ travel tickets, arranged for Travel Assistance at Manchester and Ohrid airports, resolved a route around the country and did some online surfing of where to visit within the cities and towns I had chosen.
Please read the following two Blogs to find out how the trip went:
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