Tag: travel blog

Albania wasn’t even on my radar until fellow backpackers I met in Montenegro were telling me that the neighbouring country was well worth a visit. At the end of my first day in the capital, Tirana, I could see why.

The bus journey here from Sarajevo through Montenegro was an unexpected highlight – a cramped looking minibus was surprisingly comfortable as it transported us through the mountains, in and out of mini tunnels and on the edge of the Tara Canyon which got some whoops from the children on board. I had to spend an uneventful night enroute in Montenegro’s capital, Podgorica. It is known as the ‘most boring capital city in Europe’ but I was still expecting to find somewhere open for food. Pasta and a can of beer in the hostel kitchen was as good as it got (the miserable supermarket checkout lady wouldn’t let me purchase a bottle, which I only found out later was because you’re supposed to return the empty for recycling).

Back on another bus the next day and there was no searching of bags at the Montenegro / Albania border crossing – we didn’t even step off the bus, instead the driver simply collected our passports and handed them back to us nicely stamped into the country. When the slightly gangster looking young man (Albanian mafia featured in the movie Taken apparently) sitting next to me shared his pack of biscuits I got my first taste of Albanian hospitality towards visitors to their country.

Tirana is a really lively city with plenty of space, both urban and green. I was pleased to find a huge park to wander around and especially pleased to find a ‘cooling station’, like an open doorway that sprays cool air as you pass through.

I stayed at the gorgeous Garden Hostel which includes a breakfast buffet in the garden and a very warm welcome from the brother and sister team. I also got to check out the bunker that is under their house, with room for over 80 people (each seat has a number). Bunkers are a common sight in Tirana – by 1983 there were 173,371 bunkers in Albania, built in the 1960s and 1970s during Enver Hoxha’s Stalinist rule. This was known as bunkerisation.

The first thing I noticed in Albania is that almost every single car is either a BMW or Mercedes, and a battered up old car at that. On every corner is a car flashing it’s German logo looking like it’s weathered a fair few accidents.

With just one night here, I wasted no time in joining an evening walking tour of the city with a very entertaining guide. He managed the tricky task of showing us his hometown, presenting a crash course in the history of communismn in Albania and still keeping it fun. Tip-based tours like this are usually a great way to meet other solo travellers as most of the hostels promote them.

I hadn’t appreciated the level of communism in Albania, which did not end until 1992. According to our guide, Albania thought North Korea was ‘not communist enough’. He urged us to imagine suddenly being exposed to banks, bananas and other aspects of life we consider essential – his grandfather would ask for a ‘red banana’ when what he meant was a Coca-Cola.

The expanse of Skanderbeg Square, named after national hero Gjergj Kastrioti Skënderbeu who led the rebellion against the Ottoman empire, appears in stark contrast to the communist-era blocks of flats dotted around.

I’m including a lot of photos of Tirana because of the sheer variety of buildings I saw – including religious ones, in a country that has a population of 80% Muslim on paper and also claims Mother Teresa as their own. Though apparently so does North Macedonia.

A stark reminder of previous times is a piece of the Berlin wall on display next to the entrance of yet another city bunker.

On that note, Tirana has maybe the most unique museum I’ve ever been to – “Bunk Art 1” (a smaller “Bunk Art 2” can be found in the city centre but it’s worth the half hour bus ride out to the original – just ask around for the bus stop and the driver will tell you when to get off).

Note that this is by no means an art gallery – rather it is a huge underground maze including 106 rooms and an auditorium. There are communication rooms where you can pick up a telephone and listen to the voice of Hoxha himself, fully furnished bedrooms and bathrooms. Fairly creepy when you seem to be the only visitor! This was all built in preparation for a war that never happened and as such was never used, rather they were abandoned in 1992 with the fall of communism.

A helpful sign states that you are encouraged to remain calm and stay where you are in case of a powercut – it seemed very unlikely anybody would remain calm if you happened to be in one of the rooms with the life-sized gasmask wearing pretend soldiers and fake snow on the ground.

There is an enormous amount of information in this place, room upon room of photographs and letters, from relations with Italy, to the start of communism, the rescue of an American medical flight through to UK involvement. It was far too much to me to take in – once more I was reminded how little I know about this part of European history.

Back up on ground level, Tirana is an opportunity to eat at vegetarian restaurants again, even a mocha with soy milk is available. I wandered around at night taking in the atmosphere but too tired to join a hostel bar crawl.

Next stop on the backpacker trail in Albania is Berat. Taking yet another bus here was an experience in itself – there are two ‘bus stations’ in Tirana, one serving routes north and south and one serving east and west – it’s important to get the right one. I use inverted commas because ‘bus station’ is a stretch – bus stations in Albania are really carparks filled with buses of varying states of decay. As soon as you arrive, a group of men will shout various city names at you. This is not a scam, it’s how you find your bus as English is not widely spoken and there is no ticket office. I hopped on just as the Berat bus was departing – the lack of following schedules actually means you’re less likely to miss your bus as the driver tries to wait until all seats are filled.

The UNESCO Heritage Site of Berat, often referred to as the city of 1000 windows, dates back to the 4th century. Berat could be visited in a day trip from Tirana but it’s lovely at night when the streets are full of people drinking coffee and eating dessert, and old men playing chess occupy the benches. Apparently if you want to find anyone in Berat, just come to the main street after dusk.

Berat’s main attraction is the fortress on top of the hill, which has a functional town inside of it with houses, shops and restaurants. The walk up is steep in the 35 degree Celsius August heat (even the first bit of rain I’ve seen in 3 weeks didn’t cool the temperature down) but the views are worth it.

I went in the slightly odd National Ethnographic Museum of Berat which is basically a house where I had no real clue what I was looking at, but mostly enjoying wandering along the river in the afternoon and stopping for coffee or food.

I stayed at the Berat Backpackers, a choice made mostly due to the Lonely Planet write up and it’s beautiful setting inside the Gorica area (across the bridge and south of the river Osumi) with a large garden to enjoy breakfast and a beer from the well stocked fridge.

The atmosphere didn’t quite live up to the reviews possibly because of change in ownership – this was a rare time where I was grateful when some other Brits turned up and quite literally brought the party in the form of three 18 year olds – India, Millie (from Budleigh Salterton – she agreed that naturist beach is definitely dodgy) and Millie’s boyfriend, who made me laugh like only 18 year olds can, and Tom who brought a plastic water bottle full of the local liquor ‘rakia’, otherwise known as pure fire, made by an old woman who ripped him off on the street. With a lack of other backpackers able or willing to speak English, a quiet Friday night quickly turned into Brits on Tour as we found the one place that had a pool table. I was slightly concerned we were now in Albania mafia territory and it was unclear how much/ what it was going to cost, but Tom assured me the locals who were by now clearly waiting for us to leave, were ‘just the lads’.

Let’s just say we were not popular in the hostel the next morning (I blame the Czechs who certainly knew how to carry the party on) but luckily I was moving south for some beach time.

With only a week here, I wanted to see the Albanian Riviera and chose the town of Vlorë predominantly because of the direct bus route. First hurdle – no taxis so the hostel owner’s financé drove me to the bus station / parking lot. Second hurdle – despite what the timetable said there were no buses running in that direction today, and no explanation as to why not. Having already booked the next few nights accommodation and on a schedule for once, I had no choice but to pay the fiancé to drive me the hour and a half all the way to the coast. I spotted some other tourists also trying to get to Vlorë and suggested we share the ride but they weren’t interested, expressing horror at the price. What cheapskates, I thought as I agreed to pay the 7000 lek myself (around €55). It was only when we were on the way that I realised I had done my old trick of confusing the currency and quoted them 70,000 lek, over five HUNDRED euros. No wonder they weren’t keen.

When we eventually got to Vlore, after stopping to help two German girls change a flat tyre, we couldn’t find my accommodation despite my lovely driver making several phone calls and looking so hard at Google maps that he backed into a parked car (which he totally ignored). If he was regretting taking me to the bus station he didn’t show it, refusing to accept even take a tiny tip.

My accommodation in Vlorë was the ‘Berti Apartments’, run by the sweetest old couple who did not speak a word of English other than ‘breakfast?’ – the old woman woke me up at 7am by knocking on my window to bring breakfast on a cute little tray to the table outside my room. It was only missing the coffee – with no instructions I couldn’t light the gas to make my own nor communicate this to my hosts. Cue comedic gesturing until the old man called a younger man for me to explain over the phone, who then came around two minutes later so we could all go to my room to teach me that the gas has to be turned on from the mains in order to work.

Vlorë is a beach holiday destination – lovely sandy beach and the warmest sea at the price of a €4 sunbed for the day. Wide palmtree lined streets full of cafes and restaurants turn into thumping clubs in the evening when the promenades are full of people, mostly holidaymakers from the surrounding countries. Still not quite the secluded coves for early morning swims I was looking for but beautiful none the less and with the bonus of very friendly people; as much I as liked Montenegro it is hard not to notice that people don’t really smile.

All too quickly my week in Albania came to an end as I had booked some accommodation back in the south of Montenegro, just across the border from the city of Shkodër, so I headed there for the night. There isn’t much to do there unless you’re going further north to hike in the Albanian Alps or spend time on the lake, neither of which I had time for but I did enjoy the photographic museum which I had all to myself. It contains some stunning old photographs of Albanian life, particularly the random ones of people laughing and joking with no information to explain the who / what / when.

I wasn’t that surprised when once more the bus did not materialise, despite a) my having double checked in advance with two different hostels that it existed and b) this bus was my sole reason for going to Shkodër in the first place as was less than hour away from my final destination. The journey is part of the experience as they say so I had to go almost full circle in the opposite direction, back through my favourite city Podgerica, for a final five nights in Montenegro before heading north to Serbia…