Adventures in Albania: On mysterious ways
Almost no one knows anything about this country right in the south eastern part of Europe. It's small, it's sunny, it has beaches, mountains and friendly people, nice things to eat and wine and beer too. We try to discover Albania, a small ghost under the all the nations on earth. By feet, of course, to have some adventures in Albania on mysterious ways.
It wasn't too long ago that travel to the Balkans was only for the very brave. And only the craziest among them dared to go to Albania, a small state on the Adriatic Sea that was sealed off from the whole world like North Korea nowadays in the decades after World War II. No one was allowed in, no one was allowed out .
That has changed in the meantime. But still the country with its population of not even three million is a piece of mysterious terra incognita in the middle of Europe. Part 1 of the story is here, part two here
In the morning the sun tickles the chickens, the roosters start crowing and the day begins in Terbac, a tiny farming village in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by high mountains and green forests. Nobody who has not traveled the distance themselves would believe that the Mediterranean Sea is only twelve kilometers away as the crow flies. Anyone who has had to do it on their own feet, via the St. George Pass at 1,132 meters and the goat trails up and down Terbac, would swear it was at least 100 kilometers more.
Homemade bread and honey
The second day of the trek begins with a local breakfast, served by the daughter of the shepherd family with whom we are staying. There is yoghurt, tomatoes and juice, homemade bread and honey from our own harvest. The terrace offers wonderful views of the surrounding mountain ranges, peaks lying in the morning haze, forests from which the frost from the night is giving way in the first rays of the sun as a light fog. If you're travelling Albania you have the chance to have adventures on "mysterious ways" (U2).
Packed the donkeys, grabbed the backpack, tied the shoes tightly. It starts, again on the ancient caravan route that used to connect the Roman port of Aulon (now: Vlora) with the Roman colonies inland. The Shushica Valley, now completely forgotten by the world, has ancient oak forests and bizarre communist-era monuments. Old men are sawing wood, a goat looks curiously at the hikers who pass by and in turn look curiously at a monument that shows a gruff warrior leaning on his mighty sword looking heroically at the lost landscape.
On the highest hill nearby stands a massive building from the communist era when there was an attempt to forge this area into the moderne. A completely futile undertaking, because the people here, at least the older ones, never wanted and never want to live in any other way than in their small communities with very low standards of comfort, technology and progress. This is how the survided the last 2000 years. This is how they will survive the next 2000.
The path through a gorge
We are on our way to Kallarat, a place with at least 2,000 inhabitants, so a huge town by local standards. After the first, quite strenuous day of hiking, we're going to take it easy today. The path leads through a gorge at the bottom of which a turquoise river meanders.
Then follow orchards and sparse forest, the ground is rocky as always and full of loose debris. We always have the summit of Kendervice in mind, which at 2,121 meters is the highest of the many nameless (for us) peaks that stretch the horizon in all directions.
It goes higher and higher, closer and closer to a sky in which a blazing sun shines that stings the eyes. In Vranisht, a village at the foot of Cika, which is already at 2,044 meters, we have a coffee break. In the blooming garden of a couple who has two small daughters and speaks English, we are told how everyday life works here. It takes hours for everyone to get to the next real city by car. all the neighbours are familar, all have pets and everyone is ready to help anyone.
It's a good opportunity to get into conversation with the locals and to recognize how different the worlds are we live in. They can't understand why people are doing things like hiking or going to places they never know. It's a mysterios thing fort them because it hasn't any use case. For us it is enigmatic how somebody can live his whole life at one place on one hill in one garden.
A panoramic view
We have to go. From the Iass pass we enjoy the panoramic view over to the St.George Pass that we crossed yesterday, to the slopes of Bogonica and down to our today's destination, the village of Kallarat. This belongs to the town of Vranisht, which was in World War II part of the battlefield of the battle of Gjorm, where Albanian resistance units defeated and routed the troops of the Kingdom of Italy.
Nothing here is reminiscent of those bloody times, just a few large memorials and steles standing in front of collapsed and burnt-out ruins of communist-era houses. Hysen Gino is revered here as a folk hero, and a Sali Murati has also been given a memorial stone on which he poses with his rifle.
But all of that has fallen into disrepair, like the small soccer field and the wall on which hangs a plaque with even more names of heroes and martyrs. A soccer ball, half inflated, half deflated, lies useless in the sun.
It's not far to the village of Kuc, where we find accommodation with a family who will take us back to local specialties in the evening spoiled. We can put that to good use.
Because tomorrow we will.
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