Update: Police and Masks in Albania

I stopped wearing a face mask or even carrying one with me. For the past couple of months, my mask was the snorkel mask I wore almost everyday while exploring the fascinating underwater scenery on Albania’s Ionian coast. Until yesterday, I almost forgot about the pandemic completely.

My family and I left the United States for Albania about two and a half months ago and we have spent most of our time in a small town on the southern coast that has not had any cases of Covid-19. Nestled between the mountains and the sea, Himara has a very remote feel to it, especially in the off season when many of the restaurants close down and the beaches become completely empty except for the occasional lone fisherman. It was easy to imagine the pandemic was a world away.

We arrived in town at the end of August with masks on our faces and extras in every pocket. A “Masks Required” notice was posted outside of the grocery store as well as at other local businesses, but we quickly realized that we were the only ones wearing them. When we wore masks into the small shop around the corner from our house, the owner told us we could take them off. “It’s safe here,” he said.

But then something suddenly changed.

We sat down in our favorite sweet shop. I ordered a baklava and a makiato while the kids ordered an assortment of sweets.

“Look,” Tola pointed out. “He’s wearing a mask.”

The server, who lately had started giving us free cookies as we were such frequent customers, was now wearing a face mask. I took a sip of my coffee and surveyed the street. An older couple dressed like it was the 1950s walked by wearing masks. A family came from the other direction, each one masked. Then a man pushing a wheelbarrow. Also masked.

Everyone in town besides us was wearing a face mask.

We finished our sweets and walked back towards our place, passing by the corner where the police van is usually parked. Today, the van was there, but the police were out of the van walking the streets with serious looks on their faces. Immediately one of them noticed us and pointed at me.

“Mask!” He called out. His colleague behind him, masked only over the chin, quickly pulled it up over his mouth and nose as I glanced toward him.

I patted my empty pockets. “I left it at home,” I told him.

He waved me on, saying “mask” a few more times.

Did the pandemic suddenly hit Himara? No, fortunately not. But in response to a sudden increase in the number of new cases elsewhere in Albania, the government decided to finally enforce the rules.

So as my snorkel mask gets put away for the season, the face mask comes back out.