Rolling into Tirana after midnight, I was having misgivings about the trip for the first time. The Alitalia flights had been nightmarish, a half-day of bad omens. Rinas Airport was desolate, the parking lot littered with debris and garbage. And now I was entering the Albanian capital through what looked like a "Road Warrior" set – skeletons of buildings looming in the darkness, some half-built, others half-destroyed, as my driver zipped at breakneck speed over the scarred and pitted highway, swerving around potholes and loose masonry.

As we entered the city center, the view was transformed. Simply but beautifully, the mosque, clock tower and titular statue in Skanderbeg Square were drenched in blue light, a startling and dreamy sight that boosted my tired spirits.

The muezzin’s call woke me early the following morning, giving me an early start on seeing the city. Tirana’s already bustling at 6 a.m. and stays so till late at night – sometimes a detriment to sleep, but never boring.

Skanderbeg Square – or Sheshi Skanderbeg in Albanian – may not be the social center of Tirana (it seems to have fallen behind the more affluent southern section) but it’s certainly a physical center. Streets running in concentric circles around the center, three imposing buildings (the central bank, the national museum, and the Palace of Culture) and two monuments (the clock tower and Ethem Bey mosque) providing landmarks, and in the middle of it all, the statue of the national hero.

The square’s deceptively large– a section behind the culture building is blocked off and apparently unused since Communist times– and it’s also a good introduction to Albanian traffic. It’ll give pause to veterans of the worst streets. Most of the roads are substandard, the traffic lights work only sporadically (and are usually taken as a suggestion rather than an order), and many Albanians seem to be driving with malicious intent. They use their horns much the same way Hawaiians use "Aloha" – to signal "hello," "goodbye," "get the hell out of the way," and whatever else may be on the driver’s mind. In this context, pedestrians are an inconvenience, nothing more.

After orienting myself a bit (and confirming that I’d have to be nimble crossing the street), I met Llazar, a local journalist and friend of a friend. He was the ideal guide– full of anecdotes, background information, gossip, and history. He also set the stage for most of the Albanians I met: warm, welcoming, and unfailingly generous.

We strolled down the city center, me learning bits and pieces about Tirana’s present state and recent past as we went, then had an excellent lunch at the President Hotel, which also added to my Tirana knowledge– specifically, confirming that the local brew, Birra Tirana, is fantastic... and learning the most common Albanian toast, "Gezuar." These pieces of knowledge were to serve me well throughout the trip.

My trip coincided with a few big events in Tirana – Europe Week, with EU officials making vague promises about possible membership someday, and the ruling Socialist Party’s Congress in advance of July’s elections. That night, the party sponsored a concert in front of the university. I dropped by for a bit to check out the music (a mix, far as I could tell, of traditional Albanian and modern pop) and the crowds (though over the Socialists or the music, hard to tell.)

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I woke up the next morning to pouring rain, and the view out the window was chaotic, muddy streets. That along with a mild but persistent cough was enough to make me seek refuge in the hotel restaurant, guzzling espresso and reading Graham Greene. The hotel manager, Kujtim, came over to talk – he spoke some English (with a Cockney accent, oddly enough) and gave me some tips on things to see, as well as some insight into Albania’s dire outlook – he had two science degrees but was working at the hotel for the equivalent of $150 a month.

Fortified by coffee and with the rain letting up, I strolled across the square to the history museum – an enormous building dominated by a giant mural of freedom fighters throughout history, above the entrance. Most of the exhibits were solely in Albanian and thus rather lost on me, but it was well put-together and I could glean a basic idea from the artifacts and displays. It’s laid out chronologically to give a good idea of the country’s evolution and formation. It closed with a stark memorial to the victims of the fascist occupation and Stalinist regime, and then a fairly blunt exhibit illustrating Albania’s post-Communist woes (including, rather morbidly, the clothing and effects of protesters killed in anti-government demonstrations).

Sufficiently into museum mode, I moved on to the National Art Gallery. Much of it was closed off (or at least the lights were out), but what I saw was impressive– good collections of Byzantine-style art, Socialist realism, and some interesting contemporary work.