Albania was a natural candidate for this year’s holiday. Helen has developed a strong interest in Albania over many years, including the sponsorship of Kondelia, a student from Durres who has just completed university. We wanted to see as many of the major sights of this mysterious Balkan country as possible, and also to visit Kondelia, as she had visited us and other sponsoring families in the UK in previous years. We opted for a tailor-made package from Regent Holidays, run in partnership with Albantours. The adventure started and ended in Tirana, the capital. It also visited various other locations in the centre and south, including Durres, Kruje, Apollonia, Vlore, Saranda, Butrint and Gjirokastra. This was possible through the use of a guide and chauffeur-driven Mercedes. Although the trip was expensive as a result, it would not have been possible to do in any other way, for reasons which will become clear.
My own interest was not just in the inherent attractions of Albania, but in trying to form an impression of whether the country is ready, willing and able to launch a successful drive to expand its income from tourism. At the end of eight days, I concluded that, to coin a typical Albanian phrase, “It’s hard to say”.
The country has many qualities which should attract more tourists than at present. Like the other Balkan nations, its history is complicated, with some of the earliest inhabitants being the Illyrians. (Lovers of Shakespeare will recognise Illyria as the location for Twelfth Night.) The Greeks, the Turks – through the Ottoman Empire – and the Italians all exercised major influence on the territories which finally came together in 1920 as Albania. The Russians, and then the Chinese, have loomed large in Albanian affairs since Enver Hoxha’s Communist Party took power after the Second World War. Democracy arrived in the early 1990s, although it suffered a major setback in 1997 with the collapse of the pyramid banking schemes and subsequent riots by people now worse off than they had been under Communism.
For anyone with an interest in ancient or modern history, there is much to absorb and intrigue. The Ethem Bey Mosque in Tirana provides a rich display of floral art, produced by the Bektashi Islamic sect and hence different from the geometric style which one can see in Istanbul and elsewhere. Ethem Bey was the only mosque in Tirana not destroyed after the Second World War by the Communists, who preferred to leave it as a ‘monument of culture’. Although the paintings are over 200 years old, they remain vivid. The caretaker explained that this was due to the use of quince leaves boiled in raki to derive the colours. He was also happy to chat about the career of Yusuf Islam, formerly the 70s pop singer Cat Stevens, who has donated £160,000 towards the maintenance of a mosque in Durres. Interestingly, although the country is a mixture of Muslim, Catholic and Albanian Orthodox, there does not appear to be much religiously-based conflict. Maybe the political conflict takes up all the activists’ energies…
The new and very smart Skanderbeg Museum in Kruje charts the life and times of this 15th century national hero, who frustrated the invading Turks for over 25 years by choosing and defending castles across mountainous terrain. One of the highlights of the trip was a visit to Apollonia and a virtually deserted archaeological site. If Roman town halls, amphitheatres, gymnasia and so on fascinate you, this is a must-see. So is Butrint in the south of the country, a better-known site.
For more modern interest, try the castle at Gjirokastra. This houses an interesting weapons museum, from which, unfortunately, many exhibits were looted in the 1990s; and a truly eerie main entrance, where you run the gauntlet of an assembly of menacing looking cannons and other weaponry. There is also an American Lockheed fighter plane, shot down by the Communists in Cold War times, when they claimed it was on a spying mission; and the remains of cells where political prisoners were held by the regimes of King Zog in the 1920s and 1930s and of Hoxha thereafter.Quirky insights abound. The ethnographic museum in Kruje gave many insights into the traditional Albanian ways of pressing olives, grinding corn, making clothes and much else. The enthusiastic local guide even gave us a handy hint for guessing which part of Albania a local hailed from, by the shape of their hat – pointed hats for mountain dwellers, rounded for those from the hills and flat hats for people from the plains. One of the churches in Berat displays ostrich eggs – apparently “to keep spiders out” – presumably by falling on them. In the Onufri museum in Berat, we discovered that in Albanian religious iconography, St George kills brown dragons with red wings, while St Theodore slays red dragons, or people wearing red robes. A dragon in a blue wrap might stand a chance. Back in Tirana, Enver Hoxha’s old house still stands in “The Block”, a prestigious area of houses once inhabited by Communist officials (and nothing to do with Jennifer Lopez). The house is now used by a private American association with religious / educational aims, and is awash with the latest computer equipment and motivational posters extolling the virtues of leadership.
If you don’t want to bother with the past, there is breathtaking scenery. The combination of lakes and mountains is more than vaguely reminiscent of Italy or Greece. Berat clings proudly to a hilltop, earning its nickname ‘city of a thousand lights’ from the way in which the windows of the town’s houses light up at night. For those willing to take on the Albanian road system – of which more later – dramatic mountain drives, such as that from Vlore to Saranda, await you.
If your holiday habits dictate that life’s a beach, then once again Albania has plenty to offer. The beaches at Durres and Saranda, the latter being the proverbial stone’s throw from Corfu, provide excellent, fine sand and shallow bathing ideal for families with small children. Saranda’s evening promenade of locals is a very Mediterranean affair.
When hunger calls, the range of clubs, bars, cafes and restaurants has expanded enormously in the past ten years. As you might expect, there is much Greek and Turkish influence on the local food, with Italian recipes becoming increasingly popular, too. We encountered and enjoyed familiar specialities such as baklava, involtini, seafood, risotto and tsatsiki - a yoghurt dip with cucumber, although it has a different name in Albanian. There was also the opportunity to sample Albanian mountain goat. Although Albanian cuisine offers salad options, a strict vegetarian or a vegan might struggle to find much variety. Collectors of amusing menu entries would have enjoyed the appearances put in by “hard cheese”, “grilled screwier” and my favourite “mixed croquet” – which, sadly, was unavailable that evening. Maybe they had run out of hoops?
One of Albania’s greatest strengths is its people. Our guide and interpreter, Ilir, and driver, Jonadri, could not have done more to ensure that we enjoyed our stay. Mr Hoxha – no relation to the late dictator - from Albantours was also extremely helpful. In Tirana, a casual expression of interest in visiting one of the universities led to a short but illuminating interview with the Rector and Vice-Rector, who were more than happy to discuss structural, funding and other issues. Both had spent much time in UK universities, namely UMIST and Exeter, which might have explained their willingness to talk with us. Ilir commented that he would have been most unlikely to obtain access to these people on his own. As we don’t speak Albanian, it can only be a guess, but maybe the Rector thought we were someone important. The city’s Archaeological Museum was closed on our initial visit, so Mr Hoxha arranged for it to open on our final day in the country, just before we left for the airport.
Kondelia’s family took us out to dinner for one evening and kindly invited us to their home the next evening. While sampling the local delicacies of cherries in preserve and Albanian pie in filo pastry, I asked Kondelia’s father what was best about being Albanian. He had no doubt: “Albanians will give hospitality to anyone who needs it. And, once you have the word of an Albanian, he will honour it.” Having been in touch with Kondelia for almost ten years, it was a great pleasure to meet the rest of her family.
However, while people are Albania’s greatest strength, they are also its weakness. Corruption remains either endemic or widely suspected. On our orientation tour of Tirana, Ilir explained that it is common for police to supplement their meagre salaries by stopping cars, demanding that the driver display the relevant documents and then extracting a fee. Less than five minutes after this explanation, a policeman stopped our car. No money changed hands on this occasion. This may have been because Jonadri remained calm and polite, or possibly because of the presence of two tourists with cameras in the back of the car. Although sceptical of our guidebook’s claims of regular phone tapping, Ilir was concerned enough to enquire further with his contacts in the police – with inconclusive results. Car washes are widely rumoured to divert water supplies illegally from homes in order to operate. On a greater scale, many potential foreign investors leave disappointed by the excess of red tape, the propensity for backhanders to local firms and the inability of Albanians to complete contracts at all, never mind on schedule or within budget.
While Albanians may be naturally hospitable, the service culture, and the instinct to compete for and satisfy customers, has only taken root in patchy fashion. This may be a legacy of the Communist regime, or it may be natural antipathy to market forces, or both. The elderly caretaker of the museum at Apollonia didn’t seem too pleased to see us at all, at least until we bought one of his pictures. He then grudgingly agreed to give us a tour. This led to one of the more memorable pieces of conversation in which your correspondent has ever been involved.
Through Ilir as interpreter, I asked: “Why are these statues headless?” In other words, had the Christians or Barbarians removed the heads, or were they displayed elsewhere, or was there another reason? The answer given was: “Because they have no heads.”
The reply was positively Delphic in its ambiguity. It was impossible to say whether the local guide had taken the question absolutely literally; whether the subtleties of the question had, as it were, gone over his head; or whether this was the Albanian sense of humour at work. When I followed up the question, the guide concluded magisterially that “It’s hard to say”. I asked Ilir to thank him for an illuminating response.Another example of the Albanian approach to customer service occurred in the Archaeological Museum in Durres. Again, we were the only visitors. As a local guide took us round, another employee turned out the lights of each area as we left them. It was very tempting to ask if we could go round again, if only to see how the museum would have coped. Similarly, at the Skanderbeg museum in Kruje, we examined some murals in one room before going upstairs to view further displays. When we returned to the murals room, an attendant had turned out the lights because nobody was in the room. It was not clear where he thought we had gone.
The various hotels in which we stayed displayed variable qualities. Our Tirana base was the Hotel California - spelt Kalifornia in the brochure, inexplicably. We chose it simply from a perverse mental association with the Eagles’ classic pop hit of the early 1970s, from the lyrics of which the title of this article is taken. By a Kismet-like feat of serendipity, the Albanian national symbol is the eagle. Our perceived status as honoured British visitors undoubtedly led to us enjoying one of the most luxurious rooms in which we have ever stayed, at the Hotel Arvi in Durres. Two cream sofas on which to lounge was a dizzying choice of facilities by our normal standards.
On the other hand, we also stayed at that traditional nightmare of British tourists, the unfinished hotel – the Hotel Palma in Saranda. The hotel boasted a superb view of the harbour, but this was offset to some extent by the sight of toilets in the reception area, waiting to be installed in the rooms. Only through Ilir’s intervention in the morning did we receive any breakfast – he was told by the management that this couldn’t be helped, as the staff came in to work late. Although the hotel was far from uncomfortable, there were some unnerving hints that the hotel staff might have thought that Fawlty Towers was one of the training videos made by John Cleese after he hung up Basil Fawlty’s hat.
However, we did at least have reliable power and hot water supplies, which is more than most Albanians receive. Revealingly, when Kondelia’s cousins dropped in to visit on the same evening that they entertained us at home, the first question asked by each family of the other was: “How is your water supply?” It is apparently common for families to have only one hour of hot water per day…unless you live in the same street as a government minister, in which case (so the gossip goes) the supply is extremely reliable.
For an ambitious young Albanian such as Kondelia, who grew up as the country discarded Communist one-party politics for multi-party democracy, the whole scenario is depressing with no solution in sight. “Many young Albanians are leaving the country because there is no hope here,” she said, “And the Government does not seem to care. How can a country function without reliable power and water?” Many Albanians do go abroad to seek their fortune. They often send money home to help with building projects, with the result that many buildings are left unfinished until the next instalment of foreign earnings arrives.
If the power and water problems are solved, that leaves the roads, which are truly terrible. Apart from one major highway between Tirana and Durres, and a couple of new roads, the local transportation is a potholer’s delight. Jonadri, an excellent and careful driver, spent much of his time slaloming from one side of the road to the next to make the most of what road surface there was. When done on precipitous drives up narrow mountain roads, this can be terrifying. It is hard to enjoy the views when you think that you may be hurtling towards them at any second. At one point, Ilir asked Helen: “Were you expecting a road as bad as this?” She replied: “I was expecting a road.”
One of the few positive side-effects of the poor road system is that Albanian drivers are careful and courteous, invariably observing the speed limit and using the horn as a warning of overtaking, rather than as a rebuke. Crossing the road in Tirana is not the death-defying act it would be in Paris, for example.
The country’s airport - note the singular - is in Tirana. This is so small that it is impossible to get lost once inside. It was still being constructed as we left. Having said that, our flights to and from Heathrow to Tirana, via Budapest, all arrived on time. The rail system consists of a few single track lines on which you are more likely to see grazing cows than trains. Kondelia told us that local buses were scarcely more reliable.
**
It is clear that, if Albania wishes to expand its share of the European tourism market, there is an enormous amount to do. As a starting point, the infrastructure needs massive and sustained investment. Of course, it is fair to observe that power, water and transportation are basic human necessities for the Albanians, regardless of tourists’ needs or wants.
The combination of excellent beaches and nightlife at Saranda with a major archaeological site at Butrint cannot be properly exploited at the moment because the country’s only airport is many hours away in Tirana. One way round this might be to promote Saranda as a long weekend destination in combination with a visit to Corfu.
The implications for an aggressive drive to promote tourism go deep. To take an example: one of the reasons that we had the site at Apollonia virtually to ourselves was because it is so difficult to reach. If anything like mass tourism takes hold, how far will that compromise the unspoilt quality which could be Albania’s biggest selling point? And which market should Albania aim for in any case? My suggested answer to that question would be: families with small children (beaches etc) or mature couples with interests in flora, fauna or history. The 18-30 brigade should be left strictly to the Greeks and Turks. Albania is competing for the tourist Euro – or dollar, or pound, any of which its locals seem happy to accept - with three neighbours, Italy, Greece and Turkey, which have over 30 years’ start and established reputations for attracting and satisfying holidaymakers. It may take years before guide books to Albania are anything more than a temporary basis for negotiation, in terms of the reliability of their content. The Blue Guide to Albania and Kosovo (3rd edition, 2001) which we used was very hit and miss in the accuracy of its advice.
In its own way, our visit was summed up by my encounter with Customs officials at Tirana airport as we attempted to reach the departure lounge on the final day. The official to whom I gave my passport studied my face at length and then gestured for me to remove my hat. This did not seem to dispel whatever his doubts were as to my suitability for leaving Albania. (In retrospect, he may have been wondering how I got into the country because, on entry, my passport was stamped on a page already bearing a stamp for a previous foreign trip, and hence the Albanian entry stamp was easy to miss.) After conferring with a colleague, he called me into a small office behind his own booth, leaving Helen behind to wait. I met two other officers, one of whose English, like that of many Albanians, was excellent, and this conversation followed:
Customs Officer: “When did you enter Albania?”
NAM: “The 11th of July.”
CO: “What was your purpose, business or tourism?”
NAM: “A holiday.”
CO: “Where did you stay?”
NAM: “Tirana, and I travelled around too.”
CO: “Did you travel alone?”
NAM: “No, I was with my wife.”
CO: “Is she English or Albanian?”
NAM: “She is English.”
[Pause]
CO: “Did you enjoy Albania?”
NAM: “Yes.”
CO (smiling): “Would you like to come back?”
NAM (also smiling): “I have to be allowed to leave in order to come back…”
At this point, the officials either accepted the inexorable logic of my last statement, or thought that I was a dangerous lunatic best out of the country. Whatever the reason, smiles broke out all round and I was allowed to proceed to the departure lounge. The inherent friendliness, but also the red tape, the bureaucracy and the interrogative manner, seemed to me to be quintessentially Albanian. But, on reflection, there is no doubt that I would return to Albania. It is, after all, “such a lovely place (such a lovely place)”.
First published in VISA issue 53 (December 2003)
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