Our writer, who traveled to 17 countries for his latest book, finds himself captivated by Albania—a nation with a complex history, unmatched hospitality, and endless surprises—leaving his heart there
In the span of four years, I embarked on a journey across 17 countries for my book, “Goodbye Eastern Europe.” Within its pages, I aim to portray an Eastern Europe that has faded away—a realm where cultural diversity and religious acceptance prevailed as the norm, not the exception. Among the few places where this legacy remains a vibrant reality is Albania. Witnessing it firsthand filled me with hope, not only for the Balkans but for all of Europe
In 2019, prior to my first visit to Albania, I was filled with apprehension. This feeling could be attributed to what the Bulgarian scholar Maria Todorova referred to as “nested Balkanisms,” where each Eastern European country tends to view itself as the ideal standard while harboring suspicion towards its neighbors, especially those to the south and east. As a Polish traveler who has journeyed extensively through the region, I have encountered various forms of basic discomfort. However, being old enough to recall the images of Albania following the fall of communism and the civil war that engulfed the country in 1997, I was uncertain about what awaited me, despite the passage of time
From the church porch, the panoramic view of the valley extended for countless miles, reaching all the way to the majestic Tomorr massif, often referred to as Albania’s Mount Fuji
The point of entry into Albania was one of the most breathtaking border crossings I have ever encountered. It was a rugged and untamed stretch of shoreline along Lake Ohrid, where Albania meets North Macedonia. A short taxi ride from the border to the nearby town of Pogradec was all it took to dispel any remaining concerns. After rejuvenating myself with a cappuccino by the lake, I boarded a bus headed for Korçë, the cultural hub of Albania’s striking eastern highlands. Upon my noon arrival, the city appeared deserted. However, as night fell, the bustling bazaar came alive with people enjoying outdoor dining at both Italian trattorias and Albanian qebaptorë establishments. I settled down to savor a plate of lamb qebap and Greek salad (referred to as “village salad” here, as nationalism lingers) while relishing a complimentary concert by the French indie-pop singer, Clio.
My purpose in visiting Korce was to explore the remnants of Voskopoje , also known as Moschopolis or the “city of shepherds.” It was once the unofficial capital of the Vlachs, a nomadic people who primarily spoke a language resembling Romanian. Nestled in the western mountains of Korçë, they constructed their own miniature Oxford, complete with an academy, printing presses, and intricately adorned churches. The town thrived for a century before its devastating plundering by Ali Pasha, a warlord dubbed “the Muslim Bonaparte,” toward the end of the 18th century, leading to its gradual decline into obscurity.
Presently, Voskopoje is a charming village situated in a small valley enveloped by fir-clad mountains. Although the printing presses and academy have vanished, one can still marvel at the masterpieces crafted by renowned Albanian icon painters like David Selenica in its numerous churches. Occasionally, gaining access requires a phone call. Upon my arrival, the church of Saint Nicholas was closed, but I encountered two couples from Germany and France at its entrance—the sole tourists in town that day. Together, we dialed the number displayed on the door, and within minutes, a benevolent Vlach priest clad in black robes welcomed us into a treasure trove adorned with multicolored frescoes.
Later that day, I embarked on a solitary journey along an ancient caravan trail that once connected Voskopojë with prominent trading hubs of the Balkans. As I ventured through the pine forests for an hour, not a single soul crossed my path until I arrived at a quaint stone pilgrimage church devoted to Saints Constantine and Helena. From its porch, the vista of the valley extended for miles, reaching all the way to the awe-inspiring Tomorr massif—the central Albanian equivalent of Mount Fuji—renowned as a pilgrimage site for both Christians and Muslims.
Filled with delight from my initial excursion to Albania, I was resolute in returning. However, life’s circumstances and the onset of the pandemic intervened. Nonetheless, in 2022, my wife and I finally made our way back for a two-week tour, commencing in Tirana—the capital of Albania. Tirana boasts numerous attractions, including eclectic architecture, vibrant café culture, and bustling restaurants. It also serves as an excellent starting point to familiarize oneself with the darkest chapter in the country’s history: the 40-year rule of Enver Hoxha, the Stalinist dictator who governed Albania from the aftermath of World War II until his demise in 1985.
Theth, shaped by the forces of glaciers, boasts the most awe-inspiring landscapes in Albania
Situated near Skanderbeg Square, a captivating villa that formerly served as the headquarters of the secret police has been transformed into the House of Leaves, a museum of surveillance. Its compelling exhibits, featuring eavesdropping devices, manipulated surveillance footage, and firsthand accounts of individuals who endured imprisonment, offer insights into the extensive measures employed by the communist regime to maintain control over the population. Shifting to a more artistic perspective, the National Gallery of Arts, renowned for its exceptional collection of socialist-realist art, stands as one of Eastern Europe’s most remarkable treasures. While currently closed for renovations, it is scheduled to reopen in early 2024. The gallery’s paintings depicting women soldiers wielding machine guns, heroic welders, and sweat-soaked construction brigades evoke a vivid and exhilarating portrayal of a bygone era, comparable in their impact to the vivid illustrations found in Renaissance chapels
Tirana’s museums are notable for their profound and inventive exploration of a challenging history. However, to truly immerse oneself in the essence of Albania, one must venture beyond the capital. Our initial destination was the northern region, renowned for being home to the country’s Catholic minority and its majestic mountain ranges. This area, historically characterized by feuds and a rugged mountaineer culture, corresponds to the “High Albania” vividly depicted by Edith Durham in the early 20th century. Our journey commenced in the city of Shkodër, where we visited the Marubi National Museum of Photography. This exceptional museum showcases the captivating works of Albania’s esteemed photographic dynasty, initiated by Italian revolutionary Pietro Marubbi and carried on by his Albanian apprentices. Through its exhibitions, we gained insight into mid-19th-century Albania, featuring Ottoman pashas, Catholic warlords, harem girls, and even a female freedom fighter.
Continuing our expedition, we traveled three hours north to the Theth valley nestled in the Prokletije mountains, near the border with Montenegro. In the past, Theth remained isolated from the outside world for six months each year due to heavy snowfall, earning it the moniker of “Albania’s Shangri-La.” Until recently, reaching Theth necessitated traversing a winding gravel road with precipitous cliffs—only last year was the final section finally paved, providing a somewhat safer passage.
