Spent the entire evening paranoid about the holy orange that was being thrown around. Not able to let the orange touch the floor cause it will insult the God’s, probably all of them but mainly the Greek ones. That’s when you realise how much alcohol and weed have consumed. When you stand in a circle for hours transfixed on a fucking dumb ass orange that’s being chucked around randomly. Making odd runs to the local spar to stock up on beers and vino. Monging out in the local shops, freaking out the locals that are trying to understand spaz-dick English from 3 junkies. Fucking about in the hostel room cause we don’t have the brain power to talk to anyone else. Struggling for an hour on the phone to your parents cause it’s your pops birthday. Just having his slightly drunken rambles about how he’s going to buy a pig keeping the level of retard at a constant state. £100 for a days lesson on how to slice the body of a pig. Decapitate or whatever the fuck the word is. Butcher cunt remembered it. But at least at the end of the course you get 16kg of pork to take home with you. Shkoder has been a surprising place for interesting times.