Goodbye to Albania

I'm writing this with a sense of loss ... because I have left Albania and I miss it a lot!  I'm currently sitting in my favourite bar in Kotor, Montenegro, sipping on a Lav (pronounced 'love') which is the local beer and (finally) getting some internet.  So time to get this blog up to date.

'My' bar, Bokun, with my favourite Filipino waitress, the local cats and the gate to my plush apartment.

After Tirana, I travelled north to Shkoder (or Shkodra) which is close to the mountains, a lake and the border with Montenegro.  I had booked a rather lovely apartment, right in the centre of town, that was very comfortable apart from the fact that your feet had to be in the shower if you sat on the toilet.  Hmmmm!  Shkoder has a big pedestrian area, lots of churches and even more mosques (it was the first time I have seen a lot of women wearing head scarves) and more coffee shops than anywhere else.  

The Holy Church Nativity of Christ - got scammed by a cute old man into buying 2 candles.

Ebu Bekr Mosque - my accommodation was close by and the calls to prayer were loud, frequent and really, really weird times during the day ... and night!

Shkoder was full of old buildings, often sporting lots of plants growing out of the roof or gutters, looking deserted but actually not.  This (evidently) was a dentists!

Shkoder's favourite ex-resident is/was Mother Theresa.  There you go ... I never realised she was Albanian!  When she was 18 she moved to Ireland, then India.  There was a very sad story that she asked baddy Enver Hoxha if she could come and visit her dying mother.  He said no (this was when the borders were closed).  Eventually she was allowed to return to Albania, where she put flowers on her mother's and sister's graves and prayed for them.  Then she did the same for Hoxha's grave!!!  Now that's a saint!

I mentioned in the last post that I visited the Site of Witness and Memory.  I think that Albania is to be commended for their commitment to truth-telling and I am often surprised at how many visitors to these museums and memorials are locals.  The emphasis of understanding why the atrocities occurred and the determination that they are never going to happen again is admirable. It makes me wonder why we Australians seem so reluctant to embrace this with regards to First Nations peoples.

Priests, ministers, clerics, imans - no religious person was safe.  

I was itching to get out into the countryside (I'm really not a city person) so I booked a bus out to Komani Lake, where I was going to take a tour up the Shala River.  It was meant to be drop dead gorgeous with opportunities to swim in the crystal clear waters and to hike up into the mountains.  It didn't quite work out that way ... I'm just lucky I didn't wear shorts!

Komani Lake is one of three that supplies all the power of Albania, via a network of hydro-electric stations

After two hours of hairpin bends and appalling roads, I reached the lake only to discover my boat was (a) open (b) small (c) not a tour and (d) driven by a maniac ...

... hence the number of crosses in the lake, on the shore, in the boat.  And it started to rain ...

It's funny how adversity binds you together.  I am now very good friends with the Albanian couple now living in Manchester, the German girl who was going home, the poor Japanese couple (I think they were on their honeymoon) who were wearing shorts and the father and son from Egypt (he liked my scarf).  We were COLD!  And WET!  And UNCOMFORTABLE!  Aaahhhh, but how we laughed!

The views (wet and cold) were also lovely in a wet, cold and miserable way.

We got to the Shala River but it was now really raining and the path up the mountain was treacherous and there wasn't a hope in hell that anyone was going swimming, so we sat in a restaurant and ate overpriced food and talked about our travels.  Meanwhile, the deck chairs and beach umbrellas sagged in the rain.

The next morning, I packed, put my feet in the shower for the last time, and caught a bus to Kotor,  Montenegro.  

But I'm missing Albania already.  I'm missing its coffee shops, filled with shy but welcoming men.  I'm missing the huge grins and the offers of help.  I'm missing the feeling that people are so glad I came.  I'm missing the beautiful food.  I'm missing the lack of tourists.  I'm missing the reasonable price of everything.  I'm missing the relaxed pace of life.  If I could, I'd turn around now and go back.  If I could, I'd go and live in Berat for a month.  If I could ...

Tirana & Albania's Story

A quick post ... I think it's time to share the bits and pieces of Albania's history that I've discovered through the many excellent museums in Tirana (and now here in Shkoder).  I hadn't done a lot of reading and research before I came to Albania so hadn't realised just how new this country is.  Which makes its growth and transformation even more impressive.

Men in traditional Albanian costumes (they were advertising a tourist show) - not the most flattering of costumes.

Tirana was full of cool arty things - sculptures, murals and ...

... fairly gruesome but fascinating.

So way back in time (1400s), the Ottomans decided to invade - causing all sorts of problems for the (mainly) Christian Albanians, who decided to flee.  Except for Skanderbeg, the great Albanian hero, who put up a good fight for quite a while.  This is where Albania's two headed eagle on their flag comes from, since it was on Skanderbeg's flag.  The Ottomans eventually took control and from this comes the large muslim population and the glorious mosques.

I've become totally used to hearing the call to prayer ... since I always seem to choose accommodation that's right next to a mosque.

This is a 'don't walk' sign for pedestrians.  The 'walk' sign was predictably green.  I thought this was really cool!

In 1912, Albania declared its independence and in 1913 was given its new borders, unfortunately leaving most Albanians outside in countries like Montenegro, Serbia and Greece.  But then Greece wanted bits of the south and Yugoslavia wanted bits of the north and Italy just wanted bits of power so it all got a bit messed up ... and there was a small civil war.  Then they elected their president to become king so they became a monarchy and King Zog 1 ruled until the second world war.

The House of Leaves - the headquarters for the secret police, now a museum showing the methods and techniques used by the Sigurimi to spy on the people of Albania (and any foreigners ... especially Yugoslavians)

At the start of WWII, Mussolini invaded, King Zog ran off into exile (taking with him most of the gold from the national bank) and the Italians decided Albania was part of Italy.  When Mussolini fell, the Germans took over and life became even worse for the Albanians.  In 1944, partisans managed to liberate Albania, led by communist Enver Hoxha.

Why are the school kids running across the road?  Because of the crazy traffic ... that will drive through stop signs, pedestrian crossings, pavements, whatever ... unless there's a policeman.

I found the only secondhand bookshop in Albania ... with books in English.

No room to stand - unfortunately I added to the mess because I wanted a book halfway down the pile.

And then things really went belly up!  Hoxha closed the borders (the first tourists visited in 1988), purged anybody who disagreed with him, imprisoned tens of thousands, had neighbours spying on one another for fear of being denounced, encouraged torture, persecuted any and every religious institution (Albania became the first (and only?)  atheist country ever) ... for 4 decades.  Even when he died, his influence meant that the communist party kept up his policies and methods.

Bunk'Art 2 - one of Hoxha's bunkers is now a museum about the awful history of the 20th century

A harrowing history in pictures, words and objects

Boards listing the names of executed political prisoners

The faces of some of those killed for their religious beliefs and actions

The Site of Witness and Memory in Shkoder specifically looks at the effect of Hoxha's policies on religion

The cells at the Site of Witness and Memory have been left exactly as they were found in 1991 when the regime was overthrown - this was a more harrowing experience than seeing lists of names or reading individual stories.  

There was a photo exhibition in some of the cells of portraits of those who had been held in the prison - I don't know if it was the atmosphere of the place or my imagination but I felt as though I could see their painful memories in their faces ... and maybe their hope for the future.

And then, in 1991, the students protested and people joined them in their thousands.  And the communist party fell.  Albania still had a few problems to come, like most of their money being caught up in a pyramid scheme, but they were free.  Now, they have universal health care, free primary and secondary education, low unemployment and they are becoming a modern nation.  They've joined NATO and are on the road to becoming part of the EU.

One of the more traditional of the traditional restaurants - I looked at the lamb intestines stuffed with its offal but chose the chicken instead!

A posh meal in Tirana - linguine with seafood (cost me about $12)

My favourite bar in Tirana - a pint of Kaon draught and a sausage for 400 lek (about $7) ... and yes, that IS a tree growing in the centre of the room.

Fried whole fish and village salad and local beer ($10)

HOWEVER, people are constantly telling me how corrupt the government is.  As one man said, it might not be the communist party but the people in power are their sons and nephews.  Another told me not to go into any of the new buildings in Tirana because they will all fall down if there's another earthquake ... the concrete is mainly sand.  A lovely man, who made me very strong coffee, agreed that there was low unemployment ... because all of the young people leave for the UK and EU as refugees, since there are no jobs here.

OK, they might be going to fall down but they are pretty impressive

But whatever the past and the present, I am constantly struck by how welcoming these people are.  The older ones were born into an era of terror and repression and yet they are genuinely grateful that you have come to visit their country.  Every time I tell someone how much I'm enjoying Albania, they break out huge smiles and say thank you, thank you, you are so welcome. 

My first delightful days in Albania

Albania - I apologise in advance because I'm probably going to do much more posting than normal, rather than do REALLY long blogs.  There's just so much to tell you.  So far, this country has been a joy to visit ... I am constantly humbled by how much people want to do things for you and the pleasure they get from showing you their place.  I haven't had a taxi or bus ride yet, where it hasn't turned into a mini tour.  And as for asking where the bus station is ... be prepared for some bow-legged old man to pick up your pack and walk kilometres out of his way to take you there.  The food is fantastic, fresh and wholesome, the wine is delicious and everything is so cheap.  And the scenery ... I'm writing this now, sitting on a balcony and staring at mountains wreathed in cloud, old stone houses crawling their way up the hillsides and a river winding its way along the flat, fertile valley.  And that's not even the best view in town!

Gjirokaster was my first stop after crossing the border from Greece into Albania.  This is a bustling modern town but I was staying in the 'old town' which was all steep cobbled laneways, grey stone houses looming over the pathways and cascading down and up the hills.  Above all this, loomed the ruins of the Gjirokaster Castle, Albanian flags fluttering in the cool breeze.  Unfortunately, I had also brought a rather snotty Greek cold with me, so many of my excursions here ended with a couple of pills and a sniffy nap.

I decided to put my struggling lungs to the test and walked up to Gjirokaster Castle.  It has a rather dark history since Enver Hoxha, the communist leader/dictator turned the castle into a prison for political prisoners.  The communist era (1944 - 1991) seems to colour everything that I have seen and many of the conversations that I've had.  It obviously has had an appalling effect on the older generation, with so many killed, imprisoned or repressed.  But the younger generation are also very aware of their dark past and are fighting to advance ... they are so keen to join the EU (hear that UK?) and to show the world that Albania is more than awful memories.  

One of Hoxha's obsessions (and he seemed to have quite a few!) was the fear of being attacked so he built 750,000 bunkers!  True!  The country is riddled with bunkers, tunnels, nuclear-proof rooms ... so I went to see the Cold War tunnels of Gjirokaster.  They are an extensive system of rooms built under the hill of the castle.  There was room for 200 people (although the toilet facilities were a bit limited for that number) and rooms for government ministries, interrogators, party elites, sleeping, power generation and water storage.

Cold under control with Greek and Albanian drugs (no idea what they were but they seemed to work) I left Gjirokaster in torrential rain and took a bus to Berat.  Now I need to tell you about Albanian coffee (an essential that morning).  Firstly, it's not as good as Greece but, and it's a BIG but, it's also everywhere ... but only drunk by men.  So every coffee shop I've gone into, it's like one of those Westerns ... all the men stop talking and stare at me.  I walk timidly up to the bar and say "Americano, ju lutem".  The man behind the bars stares at me.  Then turns to the coffee machine and starts making the thickest, darkest, strongest long black in the history of coffee ... and everyone smiles and starts talking again.  Appropriately caffeinated (I had two), I came to Berat.

I should explain the physical appearance of Berat.  There is a river, the Osum, flowing through Berat, with grey muddy water.  Over the other side of the river is Gorika, a Christian settlement.  My side is the main part of Berat, Mangalem, crowned on the top of the hill by the ruins of a castle.  Surprisingly, there are quite a few mosques in the city.  But what makes Berat different and special are the houses.  The architecture, noted for the many windows, earned Berat the nickname ‘the city of a thousand windows (or eyes)’.  The narrow, steep, paved streets and the white stone houses with their wooden balconies create a timeless atmosphere.

The next morning, I walked over the bridge and visited Gorica.  I walked around the quiet laneways and eventually found Saint Spyridon's church.  It was a beautiful, peaceful building, but its main interest for me were the original frescoes, one of which showed a black person in chains, beneath the feet of the saint.  Unfortunately the old man who had let me in didn't understand english so I couldn't find out if the saint was saving the slave or oppressing them. 

My lungs having decided to work, I then decided to walk up to Berat castle.  And when I say up, I actually mean UP!  I have to say that I'm coping very well with the walking, the ups and downs and all the steps and stairs.  Leg ... tick!  I walked around, admiring the ruins and the views.  At one stage, I watched an old man (one front tooth in an enormous smile) playing chess against a German woman.  He won ... convincingly!  It cost her 1 euro and she said afterwards that it was well worth it since she learned so much from his tactics.

My last adventure in Berat was taking a bus out to Osum Canyon and the Bogove waterfall.  Although it was only 60 km away, it took nearly two hours to get to the canyon.  We passed huge market gardens and hills covered in grape vines and olive groves, before coming to where the Osum River has carved the sandstone into a steep canyon. 

While others looked at the views, I was impressed with the flowers in the meadows, including many orchids.

I leave Berat tomorrow, heading to the Albanian capital, Tirana.  But, in case you haven't noticed,  I am in love with this country.  I feel so wanted, so safe, so engaged.  I feel for Albania as a place which has rarely been free, invaded by many, warring with others, repressed by an awful dictatorship.  It seems like the country is relishing the idea of freedom and self-determination.  And let me leave you with a sample of the food that I've been eating ...

Qifqi - a Gjirokaster traditional dish.  Rice balls made with a combination of rice, egg and cheese.

Stuffed eggplant (patellxhane) with village salad (what we would call Greek salad)

Japrak (stuffed vine leaves) and Fergese (cottage cheese, tomatoes and red and green roasted peppers)

Biftek Vjenez (pork steak stuffed with cheese and nuts) - a Berat specialty