The Country That Wears Its Heart on Its Sleeve

The roads to reach Macedonia's popular lakeside city of Ohrid were more than reasonable. As expected, things changed as soon as we entered Albania. First, a sealed road we were going eighty on suddenly rounded a bend and dropped to gravel and potholes. These kind of breaks in the “premier” road consumed well over half the total distance traveled.

Next, small concrete bunkers lined the shore, spaced a mere 50m or so apart, testimony to the efforts of Albania's paranoid former dictator. Money that was practically stolen from the people went straight into building fortifications for an invasion that was unlikely to happen. For some reason the cloud base always seems to be low over Lake Ohrid and the weather seems to be fickle and cold compared to surrounding regions. At least from our experience and the limited testimony of others.

Gifts from Albania's ex-regime are everywhere

We found spectacular lakeside camping on the Macedonian side of the border the night before but the weather was too chilly both in the evening and the morning to entice me into the lake's clear waters. Despite the cool temperatures the sun still somehow managed to heat my tent up so much that it was unpleasant before I was ready to get up. Again. Its not bad in the way that it interrupts sleep, it usually doesn't. It's just a bad start to the day.

We stopped for an hour at a cafe on the Albania side before heading on. The main road was full of the usual, stereotypical Albanian excitement. Relative highways suddenly change to gravel, causing the local population to meander all over the roads and drive incredibly slow out of fear for their cars. In reality these sections weren't too bad but constantly driving on these roads would be enough to test even the hardiest cars.

The unsealed sections are particularly wide which makes them great for overtakes. I soon learned how to use the horn. In Albania the horn is not an instrument of anger but rather a polite prompt to say, “Hey, I'm here, stay in your own lane and deal with a pot hole or two!” There are all kinds of customs to do with using the horn that are universally respected in this small Balkans country. Many would not be the cup of tea of conservative westerners.

We were heading for the central UNESCO listed city of Berat, hidden deep in a web of roads that deter all but the most curious tourists. The road Google Maps instructed us to take included a sixty-something kilometre section of unsealed road that traversed several towns of at least 5000 people where only the main street was sealed. Albania is an eye-opener. Its the one place I can safely say the stories are true.

Berat is broken into two cities of a sort. First we entered a modern area on flats by the river before continuing through the gorge where the old city is situated. On the otherside of this river gouged valley lies the other, bigger half. Curiously this half contains a huge, neo-classical capitol building like those in America's national and state capitals. I'd be interested to know the history of this. It really doesn't look that new. If it was actually built prior to 1997, during Communist rule, it would be rather ironic. The capitol building stands to me as a symbol of democracy, a symbol of romanticised aspiration towards the world's first test pieces of democracy. 

We stopped in the old city for two odd hours. I love Berat. It lacks any particularly grand buildings, aside from a few intriguing mosques, but the old town has so much intricate detail its hard not to let it intrigue you. The buildings give a little insight into a time long past. They are distinctly Ottoman. When you look around a little more you notice there are both churches and mosques, testimony to the fusion that existed, and still exists here. 

We wandered through the undulating alleyways between the white-washed homes, elderly women beaconing to us to buy jams and other preserved fruit derived foods. The city has almost no infrastructure for tourists. There's only a cafe or two, both part of hotels, amongst the entire maze of houses that I wandered through. Its a weird feeling to be in a place in Europe that has not yet managed to work out they have something unique that can be utilised for tourist dollars.

In the upper reaches of the town a dog suddenly charged us, bursting out of nowhere. We turned on our heels and sprinted, tripping and stumbling down the rough cobble stone streets in thongs. Thankfully the dog backed off once we were two-hundred odd metres clear of its home. Catching our breaths we slowly made our way back down, wanting to check out the fortress that stands sentinel above the city before the day started disintegrating in the lead up to sunset proper. 

You have to pay to get into the fortress. It costs a mere 100 Leke per person. One Australian dollar or thereabouts. The smallest note we had that was suitable to pay with was a 500. Instead of accepting more money the guy on the gate motioned to our wallets, asking if we had anything else. I pulled out a 100 Leke coin. He motioned towards it. So because he didn't have change we got in for half the cost of the already miniscule entry fee. Thus is the nature of Albanian hospitality.

The fortress complex has enjoyed barely any restorations. The ramparts around the entrance feel fairly well maintained and get visitors but other areas are overgrown with weeds and its easy to feel like your the first person that's been here in years.The fortress made me feel like a kid again, hopping from stone to stone along the broken walls, going places just to see where they lead. I'd go as far as to say this, Buzludzha and the like are the kind of places every parent should seek out and bring their kids.

 

 The far side of the fortress offers stunning views down into the valley of the old town and onto the capitol beyond. We sat here just as the light was dying, our time limited by our choice to have a meal once inside the fortress. There's still a whole village living inside. We could have driven into this 12^th century fortress if we wanted. Albania offers possibly the rawest travel experience in Europe. On finishing our meal the owners of the restaurant shook before our hands. Few places feel so warm to be an outsider with no knowledge of the language in. 

 

As darkness properly closed in we drove out of the city. I still couldn't believe that we had spent 6hrs here and I had only seen evidence that five people in the entire city were travelers. In many other locations that your average person would consider very obscure you hear a strong diversity of languages and accents. Not here.