As I sipped the delicious goose soup my friend Matt ordered, I told him I was thinking about giving up my American citizenship.
“I want to move to Albania,” he said. “I love Albania.”
He was joking, of course, but only about the civil rights part, or at least that’s what I think.
Either way, Matt, his wife Ann, my wife, and of course I all share a serious love for a country that most people I know would never dream of visiting, and that most people would have a hard time finding on a map.
Located on the Ionian Sea, due east of Italy and just north of Greece, Albania is a once-lost part of what is collectively known as the Balkan Peninsula. Once-lost because for much of the second half of the 20th century, Albania was closed off from the world by a former Communist regime.
This self-imposed exile ended in 1991 when Albania, caught up in the collapse of the Soviet Union, transitioned to a parliamentary system of government. In 1998, Albanians ratified the constitution and the government became a democratic state.
While enduring the crises and growing pains common to any young democracy, Albania has slowly developed into a popular tourist destination, at least for other Europeans, especially the British.
We first considered visiting Albania in 2006 when my wife accepted a volunteer position teaching law at a university in Kosovo, located in northeast Albania. We spent the better part of six weeks in Pristina, the capital of Kosovo, making friends with ethnic Albanians. Mary Pat considered flying to Tirana, the capital of Albania, but our schedules didn’t work out.
Eighteen years later, after attending the 60th anniversary celebration of Gonzaga University’s Florence program, it finally seemed like the right time to take an Albanian vacation.
We flew from Florence to Rome, then on to Tirana, Albania’s capital, arriving close to midnight. We saw very little during the taxi ride to our hotel in the city center. When the sun rose the next morning, we were struck by how picturesque Tirana was. The city’s main roads are connected by tree-lined avenues, especially one named Boulevard Deshmoret-e Kombit, which translates to “Avenue of the National Martyrs” in English.
As a former communist stronghold, Tirana seems like a place characterized by bleak Soviet-era architecture, but at least its downtown is lined with blocks of recognizable old buildings and identical tree-lined boulevards, each lined with public art and statues of famous people (some of them graffitied), as well as shops, cafes, and restaurants packed with people eating, drinking, chatting, and smoking (yes, people in the Balkans still smoke in public).
We only had a few days to enjoy Tirana before Ann and Matt flew out to meet us, so we were only able to see a small portion of the city’s sights, like the famous Pyramid (once a museum, former NATO headquarters, now a civilian technology center), Skanderbeglia Square (the largest square in the Balkans and named after one of Albanian’s historical heroes), and Mother Teresa Square (named after an Albanian-born Catholic nun who won the Nobel Peace Prize).
We would have also enjoyed visiting the city’s National History Museum, but despite a mention in the Brad Travel Guide, the museum was closed – reportedly damaged in the recent earthquake and will remain closed for the next four years. We recovered from this disappointment with a tour of Bank Art 2, one of two museum-cum-art installations in the city centre, both of which represent the estimated 750,000 small bunkers whose construction was ordered by Communist delusions and which still remain across the country.
But Tirana was just the beginning of our journey. We were advised not to rent a car because Albania has no train service and the traffic is terrible. Fearing that traveling Albania by bus would be too difficult, we decided to hire a private driver, which turned out to be a great choice. Martin Mustafa runs his own company, Eden Rent and Tours, and he spent most of the next seven days showing us around the country.
From Tirana, we headed north to the picturesque city of Shkodra, which shares a lake with another Balkan country, Montenegro. Then, because Martin was busy, we asked his cousin Edwin to drive us to southern Albania, where we booked a room in the seaside town of Vlora. We met up with Martin again in Vlora and drove south along what Martin calls the “Albanian Riviera” to another seaside town, Saranda, and finally back to Tirana.
Martin was a tour guide, not a regular driver, but a wealth of knowledge about his country’s history and culture, not to mention food and drink. Like most Albanians we met, he spoke fluent English, and demonstrated the breadth of his knowledge on the first leg of the journey from Tirana to Shkodra. At one point, he blurted out, “John Belushi is Albanian.” Score 1 for trivia.
Although it feels like living in luxury, Albania is one of the few great bargains in the world. The Marriott in Tirana is a first-class hotel. In Shkodra, we stayed at the Hotel Tradita Geg & Tok, built in 1694 and famously the former home of Albanian poet Filip Shiroka. In Vlora, we stayed at the Priam Luxury Resort, and in Saranda, we found sanctuary at the boutique Hotel da Luz, which served delicious homemade pastries for breakfast and each room had its own private hot tub. And yet, our stay was less than half the price of an average hotel in Seattle.
Then there were the views we saw, like Rozafa Castle in Shkodra, which overlooks the city and surrounding area. Martin was returning to Tirana, so we hired a local taxi driver to get us as close as possible to the former fortress. We had to climb the last few hundred feet up a steep, slippery cobblestone path, but it was worth it, as we got views of both the city and across the lake to Montenegro’s green mountains.
That wasn’t the only experience we had in Shkodra. We took a late-night stroll through the city center, passing the city’s famous landmark, Ebu Beker Mosque, where we sampled some gelato (served by the only rude Albanian we encountered during our entire trip), before asking our taxi driver to show us around so we could see two popular sights in the area.
The first, Mesi Bridge, was built around 1770 and is now mainly used as a must-see tourist attraction. The second is the Venetian Mask Factory in Shkodra, which boasts a collection of hand-painted masks and a taste of Venice, Italy. We learned all about it on a private tour.
Vlora gave us a chance to relax, especially since some of us were still tired from jet lag, the bane of any international traveller, and at that point a lazy afternoon lazing around in the sun was just the rest we needed.
But a few days later, on the way to Saranda, things were looking up again. At one point, as we were climbing a winding road through the coastal mountains, Martin asked us, “Are you ready to see an amazing sight?” and showed us the magnificent views that the “Albanian Riviera” has to offer.
A second “wow” came as he dropped us off at another castle. This one’s called Porto Palermo Castle, named after the bay far below. This impregnable fortress was built in the early 19th century by Ottoman governor Ali Pasha, who ruled ruthlessly (and ultimately disastrously) over much of what is now Albania. Today, the castle has been renovated and offers visitors another stunning sea view.
Saranda has a seaside promenade, perfect for what the Italians call a late afternoon or evening stroll. But even more impressive is the nearby Butrint National Archaeological Park. This area of around 2,300 acres has been used by various groups since prehistoric times. Surrounded by natural forest, the park was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1992 and is made up of a variety of buildings, including a Roman theatre, a large basilica, and two castles.
But Martin had a few more treats in store for us, including a morning visit to what Albanians call “the blue eye,” a spot at the source of the Bistrice River just outside the village of Muzine that’s dyed the deepest blue color imaginable. And that afternoon, he took us to another castle, the massive Gjirokastra fortress overlooking the town and a UNESCO World Heritage Site by the same name.
Traveling is not just about seeing the sights, and we enjoyed plenty of sights, including some fantastic dining experiences.
In Tirana, we dined not once but twice at Ella Villa, a highly rated restaurant serving both international and traditional Albanian cuisine just a short walk from our hotel. (The final bill for a five-course meal with wine was less than $100 for four people.) On the way to Shkodra, we had a late lunch at Mouriz i Zanabe, an agrotourism farm and winery, where we toured the cheese factory and ate another course meal under a wooded arbor with more than a dozen outdoor tables.
In Vlore we were treated to gracious hospitality both in the resort’s restaurants and in the nearby Yacht Hotel, where we were treated even better by enjoying food and drinks on the terrace whilst watching the sunset.
In Saranda, we had dinner at Black Marlin, run by a father and his three sons, and had the best seafood of the trip. But even more memorable was lunch on the way back from Gjirokastra, at the Grika e Kercielsh hotel, set in a Swiss-like canyon fed by what Martin calls “Europe’s last wild river.” Martin ordered, and a waiter brought over five generous plates of bread, grilled cheese and roast meat, including a sheep’s head.
A few final comments: As well as the accommodation, sightseeing and dining experiences, the trip was characterised by memorable moments. For example, Anne mainly remembers the afternoon walks (passegjatas) along the Saranda promenade. Mary Pat’s favourite moment was our walk through the archaeological park of Butrint.
Driving back from Gjirokastra, with Dire Straits’ “Sultans of Swing” blaring from Martin’s sound system, I was mesmerized by the stark grey mountains and green fields we passed and felt a sense of peace.
For Matt, who is fluent in several languages, a highlight was visiting Shkodra’s Rozafa Castle, where we were greeted by a group of high school-aged students, one of whom mistakenly said with a big smile, “Hello, Germans!”
When Matt responded in Albanian, the children excitedly gathered around him. A few minutes later, as the children were leaving with their teacher, the outgoing teacher shouted, “I will never forget you.”
None of us will ever forget Albania, especially Matt, who insists on moving there permanently. Just kidding, of course.
Or is that the case?
