The last port of call was rather difficult in its own way. Certainly the closest to third-world conditions I've encountered so far. The westernmost point of the travels; the pre-Roman name was Epidamnus, which made them slightly uncomfortable. Like the Yugoslavian cargo port/resort city to the north, one of the ports across from the principal trade routes emanating from Bari (St. Nicholas, translated -- an iconic saint for commerce, and international travelers). Odysseus ventures into the underworld at his westernmost point, and there were a few uncanny experiences. The rental turned out to be about an hour's walk from the cultural sites (e.g., old Roman amphitheatre and forum), and that part of the world in February is no one's notion of an idyllic place to be, so there was much reading at the kitchen table and baking bread. The streets outside seemed not to have been washed in a long time, and there were plenty of (amiable--a characteristic of the south) strays about, so no runs, and no walks into or back from the cultural center after dark. I showered and changed clothes after each journey out, even to the grocery a short ways off -- the usual practice in southern Europe a century or two ago. The small grocers seemed like the places that I would seek out, rather than the garish national chain, but given the short stay and the non-EU food regulations, I thought it wiser to stick to the highest path, however inviting the small shops might have seemed. And after discovering a few unwanted visitors in the morning muselei, I adopted an airtight-container-only rule for the food. But there was an old-fashioned, 1950's-America type kitchen in the old masonry building, and a firm table, so it proved to be a good place to work for a bit.
