A heavily pregnant stray dog ran around the beach barking all night, clearly distressed, and my sleep was somewhat disturbed. I half expected to hear a hotel window creak open, followed by a gunshot and then silence.

Once the morning sun had burnt the dew from my tent I set off for Vlorë, aiming to find a hotel. This would give me a chance to charge all my batteries, depleted after two weeks, and give me a place to leave my boat while I explored the city. Plus I hadn’t had a shower since I left Italy, and was starting to feel disgusting, my clothes covered in sweat, ash and tuna oil.

Finding a cheap hotel where I could arrive by boat proved difficult. I paddled along the seafront to the port searching for something suitable, but to no avail. Phone out of battery and feeling hangry, I came ashore and sat down in the Taverna Dangellia to eat away my frustration and sort things out. Whole lamb carcasses were being pulled out the back of a van and butchered in an open kitchen, ready to be roasted on the spit. Balkan music jingled, and surly looking men with big bellies gnawed through huge plates of meat. Albanian men do just look scary, which I think goes a long way to explaining the unfair stereotype, because they’re friendly really. It doesn’t help that Adidas tracksuits, the typical outfit of British thugs, are the preferred wardrobe choice for all men around the age of thirty.

A massive plate of lamb arrived on my table, alongside bread and yogurt sauce – just what I needed.

With renewed strength I booked an Airbnb which then cancelled on me, I’m not sure I’ll ever receive the refund. Finally I found family holiday which was close to the beach and only cost €14 a night. A shower, soft mattress, plug socket, running water – it’s worth depriving yourself of these things for a couple weeks to gain the renewed appreciation for them.

I washed all my clothes until the water ran clear and then set out to explore Vlorë, Albanias 4th largest city with a population of 90,000. It was just a Thursday evening, but the city was buzzing with people, young people enjoying their evening and older generations going for a stroll dressed up in their best clothes. Vlorë has a facade of modern apartment blocks along its clean promenade, glitzy restaurants and high street shops at base level which make you feel like you could be in Italy or France. But walk behind this row and you’ll find a sprawl of crumbling concrete bungalows strewn with rubbish. This is where most people live.

I walked around eating everything I saw – corn roasted over hot coals on the street, fruit from huge stalls, a block of this weird honey and walnut jelly. Sitting on the edge of a busy street watching the world go by, soaking it in, I felt ecstatic. ‘Feeling super good and yeah, there’s nothing I’d rather be doing’. I’ve started recording voice notes as quick way of documenting things that happen, plus my thoughts and feelings. So yes, I’ve started talking to myself.

This adventure is full of highs and lows. What was it about that moment that made me feel so good? Perhaps the energy of the city. Perhaps the freedom of being an outsider in a foreign city where being an outsider is what’s expected of you.