Waking up in Gjirokastra, Albania

That morning i awoke by the chants of the muezzins. At first i didn´t even realize who was singing and where those strange sounds came from. I slept in the back room, which pointed towards the mountains. Up on the hillsides several mosques were scattered, so when half past five the muezzins began singing, a landslight of sound was washed down towards the shore and entered my bedroom, entered into my dreams.

For an endless moment i thought, the mountains were singing. Bewildered and drowsy, i brushed the blankets aside and stepped to the window. Slowly i became aware of the source of this river of voices, slowly i awoke to where i was and what i was hearing. I stood in awe, breathing in the cool, moist, floral air of an early morning in southern albanian Gjirokastra. After some time i got back to bed, falling into a dreamless sleep, almost forgetting what i had heard.