The two faces of Albania
I have visited Albania twice. I entered the country overland from opposite ends and at different times of year. There were 2 years between the trips, and my impressions could not have been more different.
In April 2015, while travelling around north-western Greece, I came up with the idea of visiting the country. The Tre Urat - Melissopetra border crossing was only a dozen or so kilometres from where I was staying; I had a borrowed car, a bit of time and a great appetite for the adventure.
Without much deliberation I chose the nearest town, Leskovik, as my destination. The border check went fairly smoothly, although both the Greek and Albanian border guards examined the borrowed car's documents with suspicion. To this day I do not know whether the papers I had entitled me to cross the border and gave me insurance cover. Oh well, “no risk, no fun”.
A picturesque and fairly good tarmac road ran along the river, surrounded by meadows and pastures. There was no traffic at all, and the driving was easy.
At the junction where we had to turn right towards Leskovik stood a small restaurant. Seeing our car with Greek number plates slowing down, the owner, standing outside his business, beckoned us in, but we were not tempted. At the time I thought he was pushy; today I think he was simply enterprising and looking after his business. The road beyond, though undeniably picturesque, was in a terrible state. The tarmac ran out, and there were potholes, stones and rockfalls from the steep slopes.
The few road signs bore bullet marks. Could bored shepherds have been taking potshots at them?
Leskovik, bunkers and a wrecked suspension bridge
As we approached Leskovik we saw the sight we had been expecting: we were greeted by two large bunkers, of the kind built so eagerly in the days of the dictator Enver Hoxha.
The town of Leskovik did not make a good impression: crumbling houses, wrecked cars, mess, and blocks of flats scattered haphazardly, neglected for years, reminiscent of those on Poland's derelict former state farms. We did not feel at ease.
We took a few photos and set off back. Passing flocks of sheep guarded by sheepdogs, we drew closer to the Greek border. Once again we drove along the Vjosa river, with a short stop at a wrecked suspension bridge.
From a distance it looked as though you could use it to cross to the other bank, but up close it turned out to have collapsed, with untrustworthy planks for a deck and a rusty frame.
Crossing the border, despite the lack of traffic, took us a little longer than before; the Albanian guards searched every nook and cranny of the car. They were probably looking for contraband, but what kind?
From Montenegro to Shkodra - fuel and paperwork
My second trip to Albania was in August 2017, when I entered the country from the north, from Montenegro. A winding road from Ulcinj in Montenegro took us towards Lake Skadar, and then in the village of Vladimir we turned off towards Albania. Vladimir is the best place to fill up, as fuel in Albania is more expensive than in Montenegro. The modern Lukoil station in the village sells 95-octane petrol at 1.22EUR, while across the border the same litre costs a few cents more. The green card I received with the car hired from Hertz is valid in Albania, so there was no need to buy extra insurance, as you have to when entering Kosovo. However, when hiring the car at Podgorica airport I did have to pay an extra 42EUR to have a stamp put in the rental agreement confirming that the hire company allowed the car to leave Montenegro. A good, if narrow, road leads to our destination, the city of Shkodra.
The long queue of cars waiting on the other side of the border to enter Montenegro is a little depressing. Oh well, we will worry about that on the way back. Off we go. As we pass through one of the villages, a huge pig ambles slowly across the road in front of us: the epitome of the organic free-range dream. It goes where it likes and eats what it likes. Simply a happy Albanian pig.
In the next village, on the outskirts of the city, we see two astonishing buildings. On a rise to the left stands an eclectic palace. Its mirrored windows and the golden chariot by the entrance seem to draw their inspiration from the architectural horrors of 1990s Poland.
Opposite stands a similar castle-like pile, overhanging the river. Before we enter Shkodra, the area's greatest attraction awaits us on a hill (not counting Lake Skadar on the border, which is better explored from the Montenegrin side).
Rozafa Castle and Shkodra's pedestrian street
The ruins of Rozafa Castle cover an area of 3.6 ha. Those with a good imagination will be transported back to the 4th century BC, even though the name Rozafa first appears only in medieval writings.
The three spacious castle courtyards once served various purposes; walls, towers, wells, the walls of a church and underground tunnels have survived. The tunnels, although they do not form a labyrinth, make an interesting change from sightseeing above ground. A winding staircase leads down to a tunnel about 15 metres long and 1.5 metres high.
Walking through this tunnel can be quite an experience, especially for children, who will remember such an exploration for a long time. Admission costs 200 ALL per person. We have no Albanian currency, so we pay the equivalent in EUR, 3 EUR for two people. After exploring the castle and taking our fill of the panoramas of the nearby Buna and Drin rivers, we head towards the centre. We park on Skanderbeg Boulevard, a short walk from the Rruga Kole Idromeno pedestrian street.
We pass a large but not overbearing mosque and stroll slowly through the pedestrian zone.
Cafés, restaurants, shops, hostels and clubs line both sides of the street.
This picture has nothing in common with my experiences on the first Albanian trip. The surroundings feel safe and orderly.
When the pedestrian street ends, we turn into the side streets, and a man selling live cockerels passes us, holding them upside down by their legs and loudly praising his wares. Narrow streets, little houses with gardens and ever-present elderly Mercedes. Few people about; they have probably taken shelter from the midday heat.
We return to the car along a parallel street, Rruga Qemal Dracini, which is bustling with trade. The pavement is crammed with stalls selling “original” products of global brands: adidas, gucci, hilfiger. A few coins apiece.
Our eye is caught by an elderly woman with three light-brown bundles laid out on the pavement. Their texture is rather like moss. It is home-made tobacco, each bundle with a different flavour: sweet, natural and strong. We photograph the old lady's stall, letting her step out of the frame at her request.
Two micro-visits to Albania and two completely different worlds. I much prefer the second Albania, of course, and I believe that if I turned up in the south now, near Leskovik, I would not feel the disappointment I did back then. Perhaps it is worth going to this still mysterious Balkan country a third time, to make sure that Albania is open, smiling, well cared for and living an unhurried Balkan café life.
