Adriatic

A Balkans Road Trip Part 4: Slovenia – A Day Trip from Ljubljana to Lake Bled

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Enchanting photographs of Lake Bled and the Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary on its island pulled us into the countryside like a magnet, its attraction drawing us away from Ljubljana to visit the iconic pilgrimage site that’s become a symbol of the natural beauty that awaits visitors to Slovenia.

Via the E61 toll road from Ljubljana, Lake Bled is an easy and quick day trip from Ljubljana, but we chose a route through the foothills of the Julian Alps, an immense area that stretches to the northwest from Skofja, a charming town with medieval roots.

Škofja Loka, the “Bishop’s Meadow,” was founded on the hillside above the confluence of Selška and Poljanska Sora rivers, by a 973 AD land grant to the Bishops of Freising from the German king and Holy Roman emperor, Otto II. By the mid-1200s it was busy walled market town with Skofja Loka Castle towering over it.

The town has persisted through a turbulent history; having survived a devasting 1511 earthquake, and after fires in 1690 and 1698, it rose from its destruction like a phoenix. The picture image of the town today stems from this last rebuilding and the removal of town’s ramparts in 1768.

In Selška Sora’s new town we had coffee at the Art Café and sat outside on its porch, even though it was a chilly day, to enjoy the ambience of the town. Across the street from the cafe was a small memorial park Aleja zasluženih, the Alley of the Deserving. It featured a row of unique artistic busts portraying influential notable people of the area.

Driving across the countryside, every hilltop we saw seemed to be crowned with a small church, which is not surprising considering Slovenia has nearly 2,900 of them. Twenty-four-hundred of them are still actively used, but many of the older churches in rural areas have congregations of fewer than fifty, some even smaller than twenty. With fewer priests nowadays Sunday services are rotated between communities. Our backroads route from Selška Sora to Lake Bled through the area’s foothills was designed to see several of these old chapels in the countryside.

Steep switchback roads climbed into forests which opened to rippling pasturelands as far as the eye could see in the tiny hamlet of Jamnik., on a ridge before a backdrop of the distant Karavanke Mountain range, was the Church of St. Primož and Felicijan which stands quietly as if in reverence, placed upon a ridge; the distant Karavanke mountains, a massive range that forms a natural boundary between Slovenia and Austria, create a backdrop for this lovely church.

It’s a beautiful setting on the Jelovica Plateau which local folk refer to as the “Balcony above Gorenjska,” the name of the surrounding region. First mentioned in the 15th century, the church was named for Saints Primus and Felician, two brothers and early Christian converts who were martyred by beheading in Rome by the decree ofEmperor Diocletianaround 286 AD. It is said that the church holds their relics and has become a pilgrimage site, and in “Slovenian folklore and religious tradition, these saints are often viewed as “guardians” of the landscape. Their hilltop sanctuary serving as a beacon during turbulent times, including the Turkish invasions, reinforcing their role as symbols of Slovenian faith and cultural identity against external threats.”

Regrettably, beauty doesn’t exclude tragedy and several clandestine mass graves from the end of World War II are located near Skofja Loka. They were the work of Josip Tito’s communist partisans who targeted groups due to their ethnicity, or were members of the Slovene Home Guard, an anti-communists force, civilians marked as “class enemies,”[or victims of political purges. Sadly, across Slovenia, 750 of these secret burial sites, concealed by various communist regimes from 1945 to 1990, have been located by the Commission on Concealed Mass Graves in Slovenia, since the country’s 1991 independence.

The road crested and then began a long twisting descent to Kropa, a picturesque village nestled at the head of a lush green valley. During the Medieval Era the village was a prosperous center for the hand forging of nails, which were sold all across Europe. Every July the village hosts an Iron Forging Festival, where folks can watch blacksmiths demonstrate their ancient crafts.

Driving down the hill through the center of Bled, the Church of the Mother of God on the Lake appears perfectly placed in the center of a waterscape surrounded by the foothills of the Julian Alps. Even though we’ve seen thousands of pictures of this iconic setting over the years, nothing replaces the appreciation of this glorious location better than standing on the shoreline and gazing across the glacial waters for ourselves. The scene was visually stunning.

We drove to the far side of the lake where there was a paid parking lot near two restaurants on the lakefront. Then walked back along the road and a section of boardwalk to a panoramic viewpoint. Licensed oarsmen, called pletnars, stood on the stern of their traditional flat-bottomed wooden boats and rowed their passengers, with twin oars, gondola style across the lake to the island. Bled Castle commanded a cliff face on the horizon. A 6 km (3.75 mi) road circles the lakefront, and past where we parked is seasonally closed to allow folks to walk along this narrower section and enjoy the scenery without having to be concerned about cars.

There are many beautiful landscapes around the world – the luck of nature perhaps, or are they perhaps the hand of divine intervention? Which leads me to wonder, when the first pagan temple was constructed on the island in Lake Bled, did the builders appreciate the beauty of the setting, or was the hard-to-reach setting chosen to create a symbol of faith that required effort to reach, reflecting devotion and commitment? Archeological evidence suggests that the island first hosted pagan rituals during the Bronze Age. Later with Slavic migration into the area during the 7th century AD, a temple dedicated to Ziva, the pagan goddess of life and fertility, was established. During the 8th century the local population converted to Christianity and built the island’s first church dedicated to the birth of Mary atop the ruins of the pagan temple. Renovations to the original church followed in the 15th and 17th centuries, when its famous “wishing bell tower,” and staircase was built. Today, the island remains a symbol of fertility and love; it is a popular wedding spot where grooms traditionally carry their brides up the 99 stone steps to the church for good luck.

After walking along the lake we drove to Caffe Peglez’n, where we were lucky to find metered parking nearby. We chose this café for lunch specifically to try its Blejska kremšnita, Bled cream cake, which combines delicious layers of custard and whipped cream between a crisp crust dusted with powdered sugar.  Theirs is reputed to be the best in Slovenia. We were not disappointed.

Afterwards we finished our day trip at Bled Castle, Slovenia’s oldest fortress, built in 1011. Located high on a rocky promontory, it has a commanding view of the lake from its terrace, and an interesting museum that highlights Slovenia’s history and culture.

Here is an island circled round by waves,
In our days it's a pilgrim shrine to Mary;
Against the background stand the snowcapped giants
And fields that spread before them;
Castle Bled Reveals still greater beauties to the left.
The hillocks on the right conceal each other.
Carniola does not have a prettier scene
Than this one: it is truly heaven's twin

A verse from Slovenia’s famous poet France Prešeren’s epic 1836 poem, The Baptism on the Savica.

Lake Bled was a phenomenal destination, and in hindsight I wished we had spent 2 nights there to fully experience the mood of the lake as the light changed throughout the day.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

A Balkans Road Trip Part 3: Slovenia – The Dance of Death, Castles, & Ljubljana

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With a sharp dog-leg turn to the left we followed the E751 across the bridge above the Dragonja River and crossed into Slovenia from Croatia, leaving the cerulean blues of the Adriatic behind us as we headed into the mountainous “Green Heart of Europe.” Across from each other at an intersection, competing ladies had cartons of fresh picked Spring strawberries piled high on roadside tables.

Ljubljana, Slovenia is only 202 km (126 mi) from the harbor town of Pula, Croatia, a fast 2.5-hour trip, on excellent roads, if you drive straight through. But we had chosen several spots to explore along the way, and we’d be happy if we arrived in Ljubljana before sunset.

With a population of just over two million people, Slovenia’s countryside is wonderfully underdeveloped, and rich with pristine landscapes of forests and farmlands. A fresco of dancing skeletons in Cerkev sv. Trojice, the Church of the Holy Trinity, in the rural village of Hrastovlje was our first destination. Along the way a cluster of homes in the hamlet of Podpeč, seemed to cling for dear life on a steep slope below a karst cliff face, on top of which stood Obrambni Stolp Podpeč, a tall 11th century Venetian watch tower, which is said to have outstanding views across Slovenian Istria region all the way to the Bay of Koper and the Gulf of Trieste.

A few minutes later, after driving between buildings along a very narrow farm lane, where we were sure we would have lost the side mirrors on the car if we hadn’t pulled them in, we were standing in front of the locked iron gate of Cerkev sv. Trojice. A placard picturing the fresco we hoped to see listed a telephone number to call. We dialed, no answer. It was a beautiful Spring Saturday; surely, we thought, the site must be open. Fortunately, there was a small taverna, the Gostilna Švab, nearby that was in the process of opening for lunch. Inquiring about the church, the proprietress was very helpful in calling the gentleman, who she assured us would be there shortly. Pouring two coffees she shared, “he’ll be there by the time you finish these.” The coffee was very good, alleviating the chill of the morning as we sat outside on the tavern’s terrace, and it perfectly satisfied our “drive a little, then café, ritual.

By the time we entered the courtyard of the fortress church several other visitors had arrived, and we spent a few minutes admiring the small church and its belltower. The ancient church, built on a rise above rolling fields, is believed to have been built between the 12th and 14th centuries, with the ramparts and corner towers added later in the 16th century to repel Turkish attacks along this frontier region as the Ottoman Empire fought to expand its control across the Balkan region farther into the territory of the Habsburg Empire, but didn’t succeed. It’s not remembered when the clock was added to the belltower.

Inside the small chapel every wall and ceiling is spectacularly covered with biblical teachings. At some time over the centuries the frescoes were covered with layers of plaster and remained hidden until 1949 when the Slovenian painter and art teacher Jože Pohlen, who was born in Hrastovlje, noticed that areas of flaking plaster suggested earlier paintings underneath and thought a hidden gem might be waiting for discovery. Surprisingly, although historians don’t have an accurate history of the church, they do know thanks to the restoration of the frescoes by Pohlen, and the discovery of a signature that they were painted by Janez van Kastav, John of Kastav, from Croatia, in 1490.

All the religious illustrations were intriguing, but the most unique was the Dance of Death fresco, which depicts 11 skeletons leading a parade of everyday souls that includes a prince, a priest and a pauper to the grave. A stark reminder that, regardless of our stations in life, the same fate awaits us, though a Royal does lead the group to their final destination. Leaving the courtyard, we noticed a sign for local Isteria wines for sale on a door to one of the watchtowers. “Red or White?” “One of each, please,” and with that he unlocked the ancient wood door that was almost falling off its hinges and revealed his impromptu wine cellar.

A farmer’s enclosure across from the church had rusted relics from WWI and WW2 nailed to the top of the fenceposts. A silent and ironic testimony to the centuries of conflict that have fallen upon this bucolic area. We had hoped to stop at Lipica Stud Farm, an almost 500 hundred year old horse breeding facility that was started in 1581 with 24 broodmares and six stud horses brought from Spain originally to create a herd of the magnificent white horses for the royals of the Hapsburg Empire. Today the breeding farm remains dedicated to raising Lipizzaner horses for equestrians around the world.

Unfortunately, the equestrian center was closed the day we were in the area, and we continued on to Predjama Castle. The 13th century fortified chateau was dramatically built halfway into a large cave on a towering cliff face, by the rebellious knight Erazem, whom legend believes was Slovenia’s Robin Hood; he pillaged wealthy towns and protected the local peasants. Betrayed by a castle servant who signaled the enemy with a candle, Erazem met an unceremonious death when a cannon ball fired by troops of the Holy Roman Empire caught him with his pants down as he was using the castle privy.

An audio tour of the castle took us through secret tunnels, a dungeon, and several restored living areas, where only the lord of the castle enjoyed fireplaces, while his staff froze in their quarters. We felt the best element of the castle was its picturesque setting, which can be viewed for free, and thought that unless you have never toured a castle before, the entrance fee wasn’t worth the experience they offered. We enjoyed a very nice lunch at Gostilna Požar, which has a patio with views of the castle.

Ljubljana’s extensive old town along the Ljubljanica River is a beautiful pedestrian only area that spans both sides of the river as it flows through the capital city of Slovenia. Our taxi, on arrival and final departure, from the Parking Tivoli II lot to the French Revolution Square was included in our 5 night stay at the Barbo Palace Apartments. The short ride followed a convoluted route due to pedestrian-only and one-way streets. But it was a nice  introduction to the architectural diversity of Ljubljanica, and we took note of which buildings we wanted to return to later in the week to photograph.

First, we passed the National Assembly Building of Slovenia, a modernist building with a contrasting entranceway surrounded by an immense bronze sculpture created by the work of the Ljubljanica artists Zdenko Kalin and Karel Putrih in the 1950s. The artwork is called the Working People and reflects the collective philosophy of communism and “symbolizes the progress of civilization.”

Adjacent to Park Zvezda was the beautiful, architecturally distinct hull-shaped roof and six column fascia of Ursuline Church of the Holy Trinity, a 1700s Baroque style church with an attached monastery. Across the street was the striking Pillar of the Holy Trinity.

On Mirje Street we passed the remains of the defensive wall and gates of one of Ljubljanica’s earliest settlements called Emona, a Roman colony founded in 14 AD on a pre-existing Illyrian village. Located on an important trading route that linked the Adriatic to the Danube River and the northern Balkans, the town with an estimated population of 6,000 flourished until the 5th century when Visigoths and later Huns invaded the area. Afterward the town slowly declined as folks moved away to other areas for their safety.

The short walk to the Barbo down tree-covered lanes passed the conservatory rooms of University of Ljubljana’s Academy of Music, where melodies drifted on the air, and through the recital rooms windows the heads of students intent on playing their instruments could be seen as they swayed with their music.

Around the corner from the Barbo Palace, the 18th-century residence of Count Jost Vajkard von Barbo, was a splendid view of Ljubljana Castle, across the river with its flags flickering in the wind. Our one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor was spacious, with a small kitchen and sitting area. Though rather simple in its décor, it overlooked the interior courtyard and the ancient red tile roofs of the buildings across the way, and it was in a convenient location, the staff was quite helpful, and we enjoyed our stay.

At dusk that evening we strolled along the riverbank promenade to Tromostovje, Ljubljana’s famous Triple Bridge, the center of this historic town, which was designed by Slovenian’s famous architect Jože Plečnik (1872 – 1957). His vision transformed Ljubljana from a provincial town of the Austrian Empire into a modern European city and a regional capital within The Kingdom of Yugoslavia in the period between the two World Wars. Under his direction, while respecting the integrity of landmark buildings, the city center was reinterpreted with new bridges, promenades, streets, squares, and parks. New public buildings which uniquely combined classical and modern designs, which blended the city’s ancient Roman heritage with Slovenia’s traditional character, were added to the cityscape.

We walked variations of this route multiple times to explore this fascinating, very livable city where folks biked to work, enjoying the vibe of the university students, and the numerous restaurants and cafes in old town.  

Sunlight brightening our bedroom window revealed a glorious day perfect for hiking to the top of Grajski Grič, Castle Hill. Detoured by a small antiques street fair, we browsed awhile before crossing the river to find the Reber, a narrow-cobbled path, which rises gradually until it transitions to a steep set of allegedly 115 stairs (I can’t believe they counted accurately!), before winding through the wooded hillside and reaching the castle. Along the pathway there was a spot with a nice view over the old town. The paved walkway was another initiative of Plečnik’s and replaced a dirt path that soldiers from the castle once used as a shortcut into town. Interestingly, the location is prominently featured in Vesna, a classic 1953 Slovenian romantic comedy.

Reaching the castle, we walked around its perimeter, where we watched the funicular from the central market ascend the hillside, and found some interesting historical sculptures before heading to the entrance.

The ticket booth to Ljubljana Castleis situated well in front of the castle, and you’ll need to purchase a pass if you want to visit the history museum and climb to the top of its tower. However, you can enter the courtyard of the castle for free to take advantage of a café there, and climb to the top of the ramparts which have a spectacular view of Ljubljana and the Kamnik-Savinja Alps beyond the city.

We used the funicular to descend to Ljubljana’s central market square, where in April only a few vegetable and clothing vendors were set up early in the shoulder season. Though we did find a vending machine that dispenses fresh milk into a bottle you provide or buy at the machine. Adjacent to the central market are two block long colonnaded arcades, that house several restaurants and a variety of shops. Year-round on Friday evenings the area transforms into Odprta Kuhna, the Open Kitchen Market, a popular festive hub for food connoisseurs to try traditional Slovenian dishes and international cuisines, from the numerous food stalls along the street. Unfortunately, we were not in Ljubljana on a Friday, to experience this for ourselves. But we did find some tasty burek at Okrepčevalnica Bureka short distance away on Poljanska Cesta.

We did enjoy some excellent traditional dinners in Ljubljana, the most memorable being at Ljubljančanka near Prešernov Circle, which is located the base of the Triple Bridge. The plaza is the terminus for multiple streets and is surrounded by beautiful buildings that feature a variety of interesting architectural styles.

Architectural diversity is visible on most of the lanes running through Old Town Ljubljana, and contributes significantly to the city’s livability.

One morning we walked across town to AKC Metelkova Mesto, a center of alternative culture that started in 1993 from a squat in a former military barracks. The one block area is covered in continuously evolving street art and is ground zero for nightlife in Ljubljana, with several music clubs and eateries.

Returning to the old town we crossed the Dragon Bridge, an early 1900s structure decorated with Art Nouveau dragon statues. It was not the first time we encountered dragon symbols in Slovenia. Interestingly, Ljubljana’s love of dragon imagery stems from the city’s creation story and the Greek legend of Jason and the Argonauts, in which Jason slayed a tremendous dragon terrorizing the area, after which some of the Argonauts settled along the river. Today the dragon is a prominent symbol on Ljubljana’scoat of arms, representing power, courage, and wisdom.

We found the two churches in old town interesting. Visiting first Franciscan Church of the Annunciation on Prešernov Circle, one of Ljubljana’s most recognizable landmarks, which is painted pink, a color chosen to symbolize joy and hope.

This Baroque church built in the mid-1600s replaced an earlier 13th-century Gothic church. The richly decorated interior is stunningly adorned with gilded altars, delicate stucco work, frescoes, a magnificent organ, and ornate side altars.

Across the river near the central market was the larger Saint Nicholas’ Cathedral. It is the third in a succession of churches on the site which dates from 1262 when a Romanesque style church was built. A 1361 fire severely damaged the structure and saw it refurbished in the Gothic style. But the church was altered again when the Diocese of Ljubljana was established in 1461 and the church became a cathedral. Notoriously, a suspected case of arson damaged the cathedral in 1469. Two hundred fifty years later construction of the Baroque church that exists today was started. One of the church’s most impressive features were the bronze doors created by Mirsad Begić in 1996 to celebrate Pope John Paul II’s visit to the cathedral to mark the 1250th anniversary of Christianity in Slovenia.

While Ljubljana is very easy to walk around in, the distances between points can be quite far. Helpfully, the city provides a free, on-demand electric shuttle service called Kavalir (Gentle Helper) that tourists can use in the pedestrian zone, and which is easy to arrange through your hotel. The drivers are not tour guides but will share information about the city as they whisk you quietly to your destination.

Ljubljana’s size was just right for us, its ambience charming and as a university town it was a nice mix of young and older. We found the city to be one of the nicest European capitals we have visited, and think it would be the perfect spot for an extended stay.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

P.S. The Ljubljana Card lets you discover more than 30 Ljubljana sights

Croatia Road Trip Part 2: The Istria Peninsula – Plitvička Jezera, Pula, and Rovinj or Waterfalls, Roman Ruins & a Saint

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We experienced an infinite palette of blues spread across the sea, sky and waterfalls of Croatia, as if they were an artist’s inspiration, but in fact were mother earth’s creation. The emerald green, turquoise and azure arteries of the rivers were particularly enthralling; they shimmered with the changing light, almost glowing, as they coursed through their surrounding landscapes. The intense colors are the result of limestone and other mineral deposits that line the waterways, and the angle of sunlight on the water. This majestic display of nature’s wonder is on display at Plitvička Jezera National Park, just two hours from Zadar. 

Created in 1949, Plitvička Jezera was Croatia’s first national park and protects a massive 296.85 km2 (114.61 sq mi) area, situated on a plateau in the mountainous Dinaric Alps of central Croatia, that separate the inland region of the country from the Adriatic coast.

The park has 16 terraced lakes with numerous waterfalls of various heights which folks can view via a series of meandering boardwalks built across the shallow pools below each cascade. The park service has organized these walkways into eight different touring routes/programs.

We visited the park on the Wednesday before Easter, a school vacation week, and the park was busy, but not overwhelmed with visitors. Those in the know arrived early, as convenient parking vanished quickly, and it was a very long walk to the ticket booth.

We chose route E, a three hour, 5100m (3mi) circular walk through the Upper Lakes section past Veliki prštavac, and Mali Prštavac falls to Lake Prošćansko, that included a short boat ride across Kozjak Lake at the beginning and end of the trek.

The falls were enthralling, flowing like delicate veils across the rock face of the hills. The boardwalks above the crystal-clear pools were narrow, and for the most part without railings except for sections of stairs that ascended a hillside. But the walk was very easy, and we encountered folks of all different ages, and parents carrying young children.

In mid-April the foliage on the trees in the park was just beginning to leaf out, making it the perfect season to view the falls without them being hidden by trees. Trying to take photographs of the falls, midday, without people in them was nearly impossible, and you need to be at the park before most folks arrive to accomplish that.

Our destination for the end of the day was the Hotel Katarina in Selce, a modest-sized resort village, on the Adriatic. The two-hour drive first took us through mountains covered in pine forests along Rt D52, past small villages where all the homes still had cords of wood for their fireplaces and wood stoves stacked high. Descending the mountains, the landscape slowly greened and transitioned to a rolling pastureland dotted with cows and sheep. Freshly turned gardens along the way were already planted with spring onions. Some of the small farms had roadside stands offering honey and homemade cheese for sale. It was a very pretty drive, but the roads were narrow and did not have any shoulder area to pullover to safely take photographs. Intersecting D23, we continued our descent to the coast through thinning forests then Garrigue, an evergreen shrubland well suited for the region’s hot dry summers.

We reached the coast at Senj, the oldest town on the North Adriatic coast, with a history that goes back 3,000 years. The town is located on a crescent shaped bay under the watchful eye of the Nehaj Fortress, a 16th-century bastion that helped to keep the Croatian town independent during the centuries of Ottoman and Venetian aggression in the Adriatic Region. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to visit the castle, which also hosts an annual three day Renaissance festival called the Days of Uskoks every July. But we did enjoy a short walk along its waterfront before continuing on.

Large modern hotels like the Hotel Katarina, which cater to tour groups, are not our first choice when we travel, but unfortunately during the shoulder seasons along the Adriatic coast many of the hotels that would normally be open during the summer are closed, and options are limited. But the hotel’s location for a one-night stay, in the town of Selce, worked well with our driving plans, as we headed to historic town of Pula, on the Istrian Peninsula.

The hotel was directly across from a promenade, alive with a chorus of wonderful song birds, which we followed the next morning.  At the town’s port the walkway widened into a small plaza planted with tulips and centered with a large Easter Egg, called a pisanice.  

These fiberglass eggs are painted by local artists with themes that reflect the Croatian Christian traditions, and celebrations of Spring. There were numerous restaurants along the quay, but only a few of the smaller cafés were open this time of year. Even though the morning was overcast, the town’s small harbor was a colorful scene of boats and waterfront buildings.

Our drive north from Selce mostly hugged the coast and was reminiscent of Italy’s Cilento Coast along the Mediterranean in the Campagna region. We found the towns and glimpses of the sea along the Croatian coast fascinating and started to think about future return trips to the area. 

We would enjoy time  to explore in depth not just the small coastal villages like Bakar, where just beyond the village some of the bus stops along the road are covered with murals that reflected the areas maritime heritage, and Mošćenička Draga, beautifully set on a small cove, but also some of the less mentioned larger coastal cities like Jadrolinija and Opatija, which were fashionable Habsburg-era resorts in the 19th century and still retain their fine architecture. We regretted that we only had time to drive through these areas.

The Istrian Peninsula is known for the high quality of its olive oils, wine and regional cuisine which spans from light seafood entrees to hearty meat dishes and stews, the first of which we tried at Tri Murve in Plomin. I wish we could say that this was a well-researched choice, but it was a spontaneous stop, to satisfy a mutinous co-pilot, but we were pleasantly rewarded with a very wonderful lunch. On this chilly day, the temptation to linger here was overwhelming.

The top of Pula’s ancient Roman colosseum surged above the trees as we drove into the center of the port city. Rome’s presence in the city dates back over 2,000 years, but legend believes the city’s founding was a thousand years earlier and linked to the mythological Greek hero Jason and the Argonauts who sailed into the northern Adriatic Sea to escape the pursuit of the Colchians. The Colchians, exhausted after years of pursuing the Argonauts, feared returning home without the Golden Fleece, and founded Polai, the City of Refuge.

In the mid-1500s when Pula was part of the Venetian Empire plans were proposed to dismantle the arena and rebuild it in Venice. But they were rejected after the passionate arguments of Venetian senator Gabriele Emo, who is remembered with a plaque in the stadium. Though his efforts did not stop the removal of stones to build other structures in Pula which continued well into the 18th century. The arena, a masterpiece of Roman engineering, was originally built to seat 23,000 spectators, and is used to host a variety of events that range from film festivals to concerts and soccer matches, though its seating capacity has been reduced to a safe 7,000.

We thought we were in luck when we found a spot in an untended parking lot atop the hill near the Citadel of Pula, and the Monastery of St. Francis, only two blocks from our lodging at Luxury Flats. However, as we were lifting our luggage from the trunk a parking attendant appeared and informed us the lot was reserved for local residents with permits and we would be ticketed, but he was very gracious and gave us 15 minutes to get our bags to the apartment before we needed to move the car to a municipal paid parking lot across from the Roman colosseum, that he suggested. Finding parking for a rental car is always a task in small European cities. This one was reasonably priced, charging hourly during the day, but free after 18:00 until 8:00 the next morning. 

The small studio apartment we rented was modern and had a shared balcony which overlooked an orchard with a garden area that was once tended to by the nuns of the Monastery of St. Francis, next door. The monastery was built by the Franciscan Order in the 1300s and served the religious needs of the community until the country’s communist era. When the complex was then used as a military barracks, then kindergarten, before being returned to the Franciscans in 1992.

While our flat was adequate for our 3-night stay, we wouldn’t describe it as luxurious, but its location on a steep lane in the center of the historic district was excellent, being only a short walk away from everything in Pula. Wanting to take advantage of the sunny afternoon that appeared as we entered the city, we were soon out and about, walking past colorful homes and flowering wisteria along the road to the Citadel of Pula or Kaštel, as it is locally known.

The star shaped bastion was built by the Venetian Empire in the 1500s over the ruins of an earlier Roman fortress and partially used some of the stones from the old colosseum in its construction. It has a commanding view of the harbor and the town surrounding it, and was actively used as military installation by the Austrians during WWI, who built an extensive network of tunnels under the castle known as the Zerostrasse. The tunnels were later expanded upon by the Italians during WWII, and later still, by Yugoslavia’s communist regime, to shelter 50,000 people. Unfortunately, the tunnels were closed when we visited Pula. Near the Zerostrasse’s entrance, at the bottom of the hill behind the Kaštel, there are also the ruins of a small Roman era amphitheater and museum with historical artifacts from the period. The Gate of Hercules and remnants of Pula’s ancient defensive wall are nearby.

Earlier at the Kaštel, we had noticed large idle shipping cranes in the harbor, remnants of Pula’s once important shipping industry. Now from a window in our apartment, as the night sky darkened, we could see the “Lighting Giants” as they are called, lit with colorful lights.

The next morning, in search of breakfast, we headed to Gradska tržnica, Pula’s traditional daily market where the seafood and meat vendors are indoors and the produce and flower sellers are setup outdoors in a shaded park. All the produce in the market looked extraordinary, and we were tempted to purchase some foodstuffs to cook later, but our apartment only had a coffee maker. Excellent pastries and coffee were found at Mlinar, an Adriatic region bakery chain, which we ended up visiting frequently during our road trip through the Balkans.

Our route took us through the Arch of the Sergii (29 BC), a Roman triumphal arch, and main gate through Pula’s defensive wall, which once stood around the city.  The ramparts were dismantled in the early 19th century, when Pula was an important naval base for the Austrian Empire, and the prosperous city needed room for expansion.    

Back-tracking through the arch we walked along the pedestrian only Sergijevaca Street, Pula’s main shopping lane, to the old Roman Forum.  After 2000 plus years, the plaza is still surrounded with ancient buildings that include the 2BC Temple of Augustus, and a 13th century Communal Palace, now used as Pula’s City Hall, and remains the center of activity in this historic town. Cafés with outdoor tables lined the perimeter of the square, though the popularity of each seemed to change during the day as people sought tables in the sun to help relieve the chill of an April day. Across from a busker, folks queued up to lend an artistic hand to the painting of two large fiberglass pisanice, Easter Eggs, as part of a fund-raising event.

Farther along the lane, which is now called Kandlerova, curved with the base of the hill below the Kaštel, and opened into a smaller plaza in front of the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Pula’s main church. It was constructed in the 4th century over the foundation of an earlier Roman temple dedicated to the mythological god Jupiter. In the early 1700s, masons reused stones taken from the colosseum to construct the free-standing belltower in front of the church.

Next to the church was Park Jurja Dobrile, a quaint patch of greenery across from the promenade that stretches along the harbor.

It was very easy to enjoy Pula’s sites in a day and a half, so the next morning we set out for a day trip to Rovinj, less than an hour away. Olive groves and farmland graced our route through the verdant Istrian countryside.

In the fields just beyond Vodnjan we noticed small round stone structures with conical roofs called Kažun. They were very similar to the Trulli we saw several years ago in the Puglia region of southern Italy. Though they share the dry-stone construction technique used to build the Trulli, the Kažun in the Istrian region are much smaller, and were mainly used to store crops, keep animals, and provide temporary shelter for farmers.

Like Pula, parking in Rovinj was limited and the large municipal lot, on the quay nearest to the old town, filled up quickly, even during the shoulder season. Fortunately, we found a parking lot on Vijenac braće Lorenzetto, a little farther away.  From there it was a steep uphill walk until we reached Crkva sv. Franje, the Church of St. Francis, and its Franciscan Monastery which date from the early 1700s.

The rattling of suitcases pulled across ancient cobblestones by vacationers heading to their hotels accompanied us downhill. Surely an annoying sound, and we wondered if it was any better or worse than the hoofs of donkeys or horses, and wagon wheels clattering across the stones centuries ago.

This lane from the church passed several restaurants, but the wonderful aroma originating from Fish House Rovinj encouraged us to stop for lunch. It’s a tiny no frills seafood bar with limited seating on bar stools inside and along the wall outside. All the fish is locally sourced and purchased fresh every morning at the docks. We tried fried calamari, grilled shrimps and fish tacos. Every dish was delicious. Their staff were very nice, and the menu was extremely budget friendly considering Rovinj is a top tourist destination. The place should definitely be considered a destination spot when visiting Rovinj.

The attraction of Rovinj is its beautiful location on a small headland, that juts out into the northern Adriatic Sea, every square foot of which is covered with picturesque buildings which cascade down to the water’s very edge. The iconic picture of this 16th century merchant and fishing town is taken from the sea and captures the town, centered with the belltower of St. Euphemia’s Church at its apex, as if it was an island floating effortlessly on a horizon that seamlessly merges the sea and sky. The town was in fact an island until it the channel separating it from the mainland was filled in 1763, when the town was part of the Austrian Empire.

We had hoped to take our own pictures of the town from the sea, but the weather we felt was too cloudy to justify the expense of the boat trip. We contented ourselves instead with wandering along the harbor front before entering the old town through Balbi’s Arch, an old  Venetian gate, to the once walled citadel, before following the twisting stone lanes up to St. Euphemia’s Church.

The old town was charming, and while many of the alleys have been gentrified with upscale shops and lodging above them, several retain a rawness, similar to the historic quarter in Naples, Italy.

The lanes to the top of the hill twisted and rose before ending at a large plaza in front of the church. This church was constructed in the mid-1700s, to accommodate the growing city, over the foundation of a small church dedicated to St. George which was built in the mid-300s when the region adopted Christianity.

But part of the reason for the new church was to honor the miracle of St. Euphemia, a 4th century martyr, executed by the Eastern Roman Empire in Constantinople, before the empire adopted Christianity. The legend of St. Euphemia’s sarcophagus arrival to Rovinji  begins during the 700s Iconoclast heresy, when Emperor Constantine V, ordered her relics thrown into the sea. One hundred years later “fishers early one morning discovered a marble sarcophagus which had floated ashore like a stone ship. The townsfolk enlisted their strongest men, horses and oxen attempted  to pull the tomb off the beach, but to no avail.  

Miraculously, the saint presented herself to the crowd and singled out a small boy and said, “I am Euphemia of Chalcedon and I have engaged Jesus by blood. You will pull the stone ark with your body to the church at the top of the hill.” Awed, the crowd parted and watched the child pull the amazing weight of the tomb uphill. There priests slid off the tomb’s top and revealed the motionless body of a beautiful 14 year old girl. Next to her was a scroll of parchment paper with these words written on it: Hoc est corpus Euphemiae Sancte. “This is the body of Saint Euphemia.” Saint Euphemia is now the patron saint of Rovinj and her feast day is celebrated every September 16th, the day her sarcophagus floated ashore.

We had great experiences in Pula and Rovinj, and enjoyed learning about their fascinating history and legends.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Zadar: The First Stop on Our Balkans Road Trip Through Croatia, Slovenia, & Bosnia and Herzegovina

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Peering down at the shimmering cobalt and turquoise blue water of the Adriatic Sea relieved the previous day’s anxiety of nearly missed connections. We encountered a long delay at passport control in Paris, before catching our connecting early morning flight to Zadar.

This temporary reprieve was short lived though, as we were confronted with a shuttered rental car window at the Sicily By Car booth, directly across from the small Zadar terminal. It was a Sunday morning – maybe the service at church ran long, or the coffee and pastries at the café were particularly delicious; nevertheless, the other passengers on our early morning flight who had rented with other agencies were long gone. At the terminal’s outdoor café we sipped coffee, waited, and discussed whether or not to cancel our existing reservation.  An hour passed before a car parked behind the booth, and the shuttered window was noisily cranked open. A pleasant young woman greeted us, and the morning’s delay was forgotten. Years ago, we began the habit of asking attendants at the rental car counters for suggestions to non-touristy places to eat. It appears it’s an unusual request from a customer, but folks seem pleased that we sincerely ask for their opinion. “Let me think on that, and by the time paperwork is done and I show you the car, my colleague and I will have some ideas for you.” With the names of three restaurants and a patisserie, “you should definitely try,” we headed off to see waterfalls at Skradinski Buk National Park in a nearly new small SUV, an upgrade from what we had reserved. The park was our first stop on our three-week long Croatian road trip, before our late afternoon check-in at an apartment rental in old town Zadar later.

The sunny April morning was now overcast as we drove into the small village of Benković to see its hilltop castle, and indulge our “drive a little, then café,” philosophy. Unfortunately, the castle was closed and the town seemed deserted in the pre-tourist season. Down the lane from the castle fig trees were setting their fruit and the first flowers of Spring were blooming. The café remained an unfulfilled desire.

We love traveling during the shoulder seasons to avoid the crowds of summer. But one of the drawbacks is fewer, if any, restaurants/cafes are open, especially in the more rural areas.

The drive to the park along Rt56 was semi-desolate, but pretty in an austere way, and passed through Croatia’s garigue shrublands, olive groves, and pine forests. From the road as we drove past Skradin, we could see large charter yachts at their winter moorings on the Krka River, two miles from the sea, sheltering there from fierce Adriatic storms, as they waited for the warmer cruising season to start.  Across the river the road zigged and zagged up the mountainside before leveling off on a high plateau.

Following the signs to the national park we drove down a side road which passed a sprawling abandoned factory site, fronted with several concrete military bunkers. They were relics from the Cold War era like the ones that dot the landscape in Albania. Built in the 1930s, the IVANAL d.o.o. plant was the Balkans region’s first state-of-the-art aluminum processing complex that employed 400 people. It was confiscated by Czechoslovakia’s communist regime in the 1940’s and never upgraded or maintained. Over the decades production fell until the plant was closed after Croatia’s independence in 1991.

The parking lot at the national park was very full, considering it was a chilly Spring Sunday, but the queue at the ticket booth moved quickly. While the falls are quite a distance downhill from the entrance to the park, some folks chose to walk a route through the forest to forage for the wild asparagus that sprouts along its path from March to May.

We opted for a ticket that included a shuttle bus ride to the largest waterfall, Skradinski Buk, at the bottom of a series of equally impressive waterfalls on the Krka River, then a walk back upstream along the waterway to another shuttlebus stop for a return ride to the top of the park entrance plateau. During the summer months the national park also offers a scenic twenty-minute boat ride from the harbor in Skradin,to the base of Skradinski Buk.

The overcast day was actually the perfect weather condition to photograph the waterfalls without heavy shadows or bright highlights, and the falls were thundering, foaming with the snowmelt from the Dinaric Alps, which run through the coastal Balkans region.

Along the way, we stopped at several restored watermills, with their mill races still intact. They were used primarily to grind locally harvested grain into flour, and to wash processed wool. A blacksmith shop also used a waterwheel to drive its furnace bellows to keep the fire hot enough to work the iron, and to power the heavy trip hammers the smith used to shape tools.

A serpentine elevated wooden walkway, without guardrails, twisted through groves of flooded forest, and kept us dry as the spring runoff rushed below us. It’s important to be aware of your footing in these circumstances, and we always waited at a wider part of the walkway for other folks to pass when the boardwalk was too narrow, to avoid fulfilling my mental image of being swept away down the rapids.

Unlike tourist sites in the United States, where everything is fenced to protect us from injury, in Europe you are expected to be responsible for yourself, and aware of your surroundings to guard against mishaps. We thoroughly enjoyed the waterfalls. We don’t see them in the coastal area at home, since we live nearly at sea level.

Zadar protrudes into the Adriatic, on a small peninsula, like a thumbs up sign, its once rough coastline now manicured with a sidewalk that follows its waterfront. Parking was challenging, but after circling the old town twice, we found a metered space near the Apartments Donat, our base for three nights. The rooms in the restored 700-year-old building were small. But the location, on a small lane overlooking the Cathedral of St. Anastasia and the Church of St. Donatus, was very convenient.

The manager of the building, who didn’t live on site, kindly made his parking space, next to the building, available to us for the duration of our stay. While having a rental car provides a lot of freedom, the typical 20 euro daily expense of parking in Europe can quickly add up. It’s not always possible, but we try to stay in hotels that provide free parking when we can.

Later that day we walked along the waterfront to Obala Petra Krešimira, a jetty that was being battered by whipping winds and crashing waves, which lifted large sprays of water over anyone brave or foolish enough to venture out onto it.

Nearby, in front of Zadar’s City Hall was Morske Orgulje, the Sea Organ, an experimental architectural sound installation designed by the architect Nikola Bašić and completed in 2005 to refurbish Zadar’s waterfront which had been neglected since the end of World War Two. The design incorporates polyethylene organ pipes under the marble stairs that lead down to the water. The motion of the waves continuously forces air through these pipes to create a “harmonic symphony crested by the wind, waves, and tides,” that is vented through the rise of the steps. Visually it’s a flat surface, but as we walked across the plaza the ethereal music faded in and out moodily with the motion of the turbulent sea.

The Greeting to the Sun, a solar-powered light installation also designed by Bašić, was a short distance away, closer to the tip of the peninsula. It’s a 22m (72ft) wide disc composed of 300 multi-layered glass plates, embedded into the plaza, which you can walk across. The panels absorb solar energy during the day to turn the disk into a colorful light display in the evening.

We hoped the storm clouds would begin to break apart so we could catch a scene from the spot that “Alfred Hitchcock once declared during a 1964 visit to the city as having “the most beautiful sunsets in the world.”  Alas, during our stay in Zadar the mornings were sunny, the afternoons cloudy, and our sunsets stormy and grey.

The next morning, we set out to properly explore the town, first stopping at the Roman Effigies, a collection of column sections and decorated capitals from the ancient Roman Forum, which stood in the area of Piazza Papa Giovanni Paolo (Pope John Paul II Square). The plaza itself was built over Zadar’s 16th century water cistern.

The piazza located next to the 9th-century Church of St. Donatus and the 11th-century Benedictine Monastery of St. Maria is the center point for the northern end of Zadar. The historic buildings did not open until later in the morning, so we continued down Zadar’s narrow lanes, enjoying the fragrance of orange blossoms while we strolled to Pekara Dalmatinka – Old Town Bakery, a recommendation from our friend at the car rental agency.

On the way, something piqued our curiosity down a narrower side alley and we detoured. There in a small workshop a craftsman was applying gold leaf to a frame. We appreciate old-world talents like this, and I asked in English, and gestured with my cell phone, if I could take a photo of him working. All was lost in translation and the man suddenly walked out, only to return a few minutes with his son who spoke English, and we chatted for a minute. Apparently, few tourists ever poked their heads into the workshop; the frame he was gilding was for a church, and his dad is a busy man, but it is okay to take his picture.

It’s a mistake to arrive hungry to a bakery that confronts you with a display case featuring mouthwatering Croatian pastries. We drooled over Kremšnita, custard cream cake; Madarica, a layered chocolate cake; Makovnjača & Orehnjača, a rolled dough pastry filled with walnuts or poppy seeds; Princes Krafne, a doughnut stuffed with luscious cream; Splitska Torta, a cake with layers of meringue, cream, almonds and figs; and of course Börek, a delicious, coiled phyllo dough pastry filled with feta cheese or spinach.

We planned to walk off our over-indulgence, and headed through Trg Pet Bunara, the Five Wells Square, to find a bench in Queen Jelena Madijevka Park. Tree branches laden with purple flowers hung over the decorative railing at the entrance to the park, which sits atop the city’s old bastion, next to the ancient Venetian Land Gate, and was the perfect spot for a morning picnic.  Built in 1573, it replaced an old Roman gate, and featured a relief of the Winged Lion of St. Mark, the symbol of the Venetian Empire, to celebrate a naval victory over the Turks. From our bench we watched a boat enter the small harbor in front of Zadar’s ancient defensive wall, a continuous activity since Zadar’s founding.

The ancient walls and gates around the city were first built by the Romans and then expanded upon by the Venetians in the 16th and 17th centuries, to defend the city from multiple attacks by the Ottoman Empire.

Several of the ancient gates still stand and allow passage from the old town to the ferry harbor. The top of the ramparts over the gates have been incorporated into a scenic walkway that parallels the waterfront and provides a pretty vantage point to view all the maritime activity, and some vignettes of old town Zadar.

Along this walk we spotted a younger man rowing a small boat with passengers across the narrow harbor, from a small lighthouse to a staired landing on the quay. Apparently, they were on the way to work and his service, like the traghetto in Venice, provided a shortcut. A sign we discovered the next day listed the fee as 2€.

Over the years the population of Zadar has sprawled into new buildings on the mainland, unlike Dubrovnik, which has been gentrified into a theme park. Old Town Zadar, on the other hand, has some newer buildings on its peninsula, but also has many that show the patina of age, and give the town an authenticity and delightful ambience.

Our sunny morning was threatened with rain by noon, so we headed into the Archaeological Museum, where they have an interesting and diverse collection of ancient artifacts, statuary, and busts unearthed in Zadar, from its pre-history through the Roman Era and Venetian times. Especially unusual was the collection of Neolithic Rhytons, a  four-legged ceramic ritual vessel, from the Impresso and Danilo cultures.

From the museum there is a good view of the Church of St. Donatus, and the belltower of Sainte Anastasie across from the ruins of the Roman forum. We’d pass these landmarks multiple times during our stay.

Fortunately, we did have good raincoats, and we scurried to Kavana Centar, a very nice café several blocks away that had some indoor tables still available and offered a reprieve from the rain. Located away from the main square, its menu was very budget friendly.

Though the rain had not stopped, folks continued on with their plans, and soon umbrellas were out everywhere.  After lunch, we headed back to St. Donatus, an unusual tall round cylinder-shaped church built during the 9th century in a pre-Romanesque style. Much of its construction utilized the ruins of the old Roman Forum, upon which it was built.

The fragments of reused columns, capitals, plinths, and cornices were used as fill, and can be seen in several exposed spots along the church’s foundation and interior. Its mammoth interior is 27m (89ft) tall, and at the top is a gallery that overlooks the space below.

The church was deconsecrated in the early 1700s, after which it was unceremoniously used as a wine cellar, warehouse, and Zadar’s first archaeological museum in the early 1900s. Nowadays, along with being a tourist site, it hosts theMusical Evenings at St Donatus, a concert series that utilizes the church’s excellent acoustics, every July.

The Campanile di Sant’Anastasia, the belltower of the Cathedral of St Anastasia and its monastery, is right next to St. Donatus. The campanile was added to the church in the 15th century, four centuries after the church and its monastery were completed. During the high season it’s possible to climb the 186 steps to the top of the 55m (180ft) tall tower for a panoramic view of the city and sea. But unfortunately, in early April it was closed when we visited. Surprisingly, the entrance to the cathedral is on the other end of the building, around the corner from the belltower, and took us a few minutes to figure out its location.

The interior of the Romanesque style church features an open timber truss roof, interesting side altars, an ancient fresco featuring what is believed to be a likeness of the saint, and the remnants of a 13th century mosaic floor, which I almost accidentally fell on, after losing my balance on the uneven stone flooring.

We could only imagine the uproar that would have ensued if I had damaged the antiquity. We wondered if our travel insurance would be of any use in this situation.

There are numerous other churches in old town Zadar. Choosing several churches and connecting the dots between them we found was a good way to see the various neighborhoods on the peninsula.

One of our favorites was the Crkva Gospe od Zdravlja, the Church of Our Lady of Health, set on the edge of a small park. Its small intimate interior was often visited by folks on their way to work in the morning.

Over the course of our wanderings past random buildings, down narrow alleys, and in dim courtyards, we found examples of the many different architectural styles that have graced the city over the centuries.

On our last night in Zadar, we drove off the peninsula to another recommended restaurant, Batak Zadar, located in a shopping center, far away from the tourist zone. We ordered several of their Croatian classics, and a local red wine. Everything was very good, and an excellent value compared to the inflated pricing of the restaurants in old town Zadar.

Though the weather could have been more cooperative, we enjoyed our three-night stay in Zadar, and found the size of the charming city just right for a short stay before the start our three-week road trip through Croatia, Slovenia, and Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna             

An Albanian Road Trip: Theth – Majestic Isolation in the Accursed Mountains & A Castle in Kruje

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The day was crisp, the sky a clear blue, the mountains beautiful with their peaks still covered with late spring snow. We zigged and zagged our way along the infamous SH21, higher into the mountains, around many challenging blind corners and switchbacks. In spots the road narrowed to a single lane, but there were pullover areas to allow for oncoming cars to pass.  Fortunately, in late April we had the roads and the overlooks in this pristine region mostly to ourselves. The views were breathtaking. A half-hearted complaint if any, there just were not enough places to stop safely to enjoy the picturesque landscapes.

After cresting the Thore Mountain Pass, at 5,547ft the highest along the route, we stopped at the Monument commemorating Edith Durham, a British anthropologist who championed Albanian independence in the early 1900’s, and was lovingly called, “Queen of the Highlanders.” After that we could have coasted all the way into Theth, like Olympic bobsledders, but we were very judicious with braking.

Centuries ago, the inhospitable, saw-toothed mountains of northern Albania were a sanctuary for folks fleeing invaders. It’s a massive area at the southern end of the Dinaric Mountain Range, with nearly twenty mountain peaks having 9000 ft high summits, and it encompasses the border region where Albania, Montenegro, and Kosovo meet. The Dinaric Mountains are the spine of the Balkans, stretching from Slovenia through Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, Montenegro, and Kosovo before ending in Albania, where today they are called the Albanian Alps. A much friendlier name to encourage tourism than the Accursed Mountains, or “Bjeshkët e Namuna” as the original Albanian name goes.

There are three prevalent legends as to how the mountains got that original title, but hardship is at the core of each. One of the earliest legends credited the creation of the torturously steep mountains to the Devil when he escaped from Hell for a day. While there are streams and waterfalls throughout the mountains, they are not easily accessible and are often dry during the summer months. These dry conditions explained the tale of a mother fleeing her burning village. Her husband was killed in the fighting with Ottoman invaders, and she took her children into the mountains to save them from being forcibly converted to Islam. The days were hot, the terrain steep and unforgiving; her children were thirsty after three days without any water. Distraught, she cursed the mountains for causing their suffering. It’s also believed that soldiers struggling to cross the treacherous mountain terrain cursed the steep slopes, and most likely used many foul adjectives to make their point.

Footpaths and donkey trails were the only way into Theth for a millennium. The village didn’t have a school until 1917. The American Red Cross arrived in Theth in 1921 to help expand the educational opportunities in the Shala Valley. The American journalist Rose Wilder Lane tells of this school building mission in her 1922 book Peaks of Shala. Communication with the modern world didn’t expand until the first dirt track, a single lane, serpentine road that crested numerous mountain passes, was carved into the side of the masiffs that isolated the remote valley in 1936. It took another thirty years before the village received electricity in 1966.  

It is difficult to find accurate figures on the ancient population of Theth, which in some instances includes the entire Shala valley and its nine hamlets, and at other times just the village of Theth itself. But it’s thought that at the end of Albania’s Communist regime in 1991 the remote area had a population of roughly 3000 folks in 700 households, though it is much less today. Interestingly, most of these villagers claim Zog Diti as a common ancestor of the Shala tribe or clan. Oral tradition relates that the name Shala is derived from shalë, a saddle, a gift he was given by his brothers, when led his family into the northernmost reaches of the Shala Valley. They fled from the region of Pashtrik, during the Ottoman invasion of Albania in the early decades of the 15th century to preserve their Catholic faith.

A road changes everything. While it brought progress in its early years, it eventually was the route of exodus for families seeking non-agrarian jobs for themselves and better educational opportunities for their children. It was extremely difficult to recruit teachers to live in the “wilderness.” Currently Theth has about 370 summer residents that return to support the tourist season, but only a hearty, resourceful handful of residents winter over in the often snowbound valley.

Today the village, with its modest tourist infrastructure, is the jumping off spot to pursue outdoor activities in the northern Albanian park system that includes Nikaj-Mertur Regional Nature Park, Valbona Valley National Park, and Theth National Park. This vast area encompasses many diverse ecosystems that include oak and beech forests at lower elevations that transition to pine trees and scree-covered slopes the higher up the mountains you go. The region is home to over 50 bird species, including kestrels and eagles. And if you are lucky enough you can spot gray wolves, wild goats, brown bears, and roe deer.

We arrived at the Royal Land Hotel & Restaurant as the shadows were lengthening and the sun skimmed the snowy ridge across the valley from the hotel. Just a week earlier the hotel had reopened for the season, and we, along with several other couples, were some of the hotel’s first guests of the year. After checking in, we sat at picnic tables on the terrace outside, sipping glasses of their homemade red wine, and watching the inn keeper’s son rototill the fertile dark soil of a garden plot. The sky stayed light for several more hours, but the sun had disappeared behind the mountains behind us. The lodge is very rustic with fourteen cedar-planked rooms, and a glass enclosed dining area, where each table has fantastic views of the surrounding mountains. The Inn’s restaurant is open to the public, as are most of the hotel restaurants in the valley. The family that owns the hotel was very friendly and helpful. Their breakfast buffet and home cooked dinners were delicious, with many of the items on the menu homemade or locally sourced. The sky was clear that evening and the stars brilliant across the night sky. Early the next morning, moonlight filled our room.

Hiking is the main activity in the Shala Valley, and we eagerly headed down into the village to explore the valley. Many folks choose to trek the popular Theth to Valbona trail, a nine-hour hike one way, covering 11 miles that takes you through a pristine high alpine wilderness. Being the city folks we are, we stayed in the relatively flat flood plain of the Lumi i Shalës which tumults from its source in the mountains north of the village. Near the bridge that crossed the river we spotted an understated monument that upon closer inspection commemorated the schools built by the American Red Cross in the Shala Valley.

Farther along we reached Kisha e Thethit, Theth’s iconic church, and could hear music softly emanating from the Sunday service being held inside. Built in 1892, the church is a strong stone building with a steeply pitched roof, and a belltower, that looks like a small medieval castle, ready to withstand a siege. Though, during Albania’s communist era, the building was used as a health center. Nearby a sign pointed the way to the trailhead for the Theth – Valbonë hike. Sheep contentedly grazed as their shepherd checked his cell phone. Untethered horses sauntered nearby.

From the church we could see Kulla e Pajtimit, the Reconciliation Tower, or “Lock-in Tower,” and headed there. The formidable two-story stronghold, with three small windows, was built four centuries ago, and served a dual purpose; to provide shelter for the villagers in times of trouble, and to serve as the reconciliation tower, a neutral ground where disputes within the village were resolved by a council of elders. In more serious cases that involved a murder or threat of murder for revenge, the accused party would be locked in the tower for fifteen days as a cooling off period, while the elders tried to reconcile all parties affected by the crime.

This millennia old tribal custom was widespread throughout Albania and was part of the “Code of the Mountains,” that was passed down through an oral history tradition from generation to generation until it was codified in the 15th century by Lekë Dukagjini, an Albanian nobleman and contemporary of Skanderbeg, an Albanian hero. Since then, the tribal laws have been known as the Kanun of Lekë Dukagjini. The kanun has an extensive set of 1263 rules that cover everything from beekeeping to marriage and honor. It is most famously known for obligating families to partake in gjakmarrja, (blood feuds), that permitted koka për kokë (a head for a head), and hakmarrja, (vendettas), to maintain honor by seeking revenge. The heavy hand of Albania’s communist government had some success in outlawing this practice, but unfortunately, it’s still an issue for law enforcement today.

Later we stopped for lunch at the Thethi Paradise restaurant and enjoyed fresh trout, grilled lamb, and a few Korça beers, at an umbrella covered table on the patio.Surrounded by mountains from end to end, the Theth Valley was absolutely stunning and serenely tranquil in its “majestic isolation,” borrowing a phrase from Edith Durham.

The next morning, we retraced our drive across the mountains to Shkodër before continuing south to the Lezhë Castle and Kruje, where we spent the night. The drive out of the valley was just as beautiful as the drive in.

Our only companions on this quiet stretch were a flock of sheep being herded down the road, and a sow followed by her piglets crossing behind her. The drive was uneventful until the bridge over the river ahead of us was closed for road repairs, and we were directed to follow a deeply rutted farm track through the countryside for several miles. The road surface was so unforgiving that the car bottomed out several times regardless of how slowly we were going. At this point we didn’t have a cell signal, and there were no other detour signs, so we had to dead reckon our way back to the highway. The rental car company had cautioned us that they prohibited driving on dirt roads, and that we would be fined if their satellite tracking recorded us doing so. We kept our fingers crossed.

It was easy to spot Lezhë Castle, perched high on a hill, from miles away. Though getting there was a little more challenging and involved driving on some of the steepest roads we ever encountered. Think hills of San Francisco steep, but worse.

The castle had a commanding view of the surrounding terrain, though especially important was its western vista, where ships on the Adriatic Sea could be spied before they reached Albania’s shore. It was in this castle in 1444 that Skanderbeg, Albania’s national hero, rallied his countrymen to resist the occupation of the country by the Ottoman Empire. The best view of the castle was from the parking area. The area behind the walls is left in a rather rustic state with tumbled ruins and cisterns to explore. Overlooking the sea, we enjoyed a picnic lunch in the shade of the ramparts. 

The hillside town of Kruje, set high above the Tirana Valley, was our last destination in Albania. On our way to the Hotel Panorama we passed a large statue of Skanderbeg astride his steed, which commanded an overlook in a city park.

Albania’s national identify, a spirit of perseverance and resistance, is intimately linked to Skanderbeg and Kruje, his hometown. Born into the noble Kastrioti family during the early 1400’s, his parents were forced to give him to the Ottoman Empire as part of Sultan’s devşirme system. This “child tax” was to ensure a family’s loyalty to the sultan. Only one son could be taken. These children were then taught the Koran, given an education, and raised as Muslims, before being sent to serve in the Ottoman Empire’s Janissary corps, a highly trained infantry. Skanderbeg excelled as a skilled Ottoman soldier and rose through the ranks. But after a 1443 battle in Serbia he renounced Islam and escaped back to his homeland and reclaimed his title. A year later he led a league of Albanian Princes in revolt against the Ottoman occupiers. For over twenty years he rallied his fellow Albanians to repel 13 invasions, and was considered a hero throughout a Europe that feared the expansion of Islam across the continent. The citadel in Kruje was his headquarters during this time and endured three intensive sieges. Ten years after Skanderbeg’s death the castle fell and the Albanians relinquished their independence to the Ottomans for 400 years.

Its name said it all, and the Hotel Panorama’s guest rooms and rooftop terrace were the perfect spot for views out over the town’s ancient caravan market and Kruje castle. An arched stairway descended under the hotel from the main street and led to the historic bazaar, which is over 400 years old. A 16th century minaret towered above us.

It’s believed to be the most historically accurate representation of an ancient marketplace in Albania, with its cobbled street centered with a drainage divert and canvas awnings hung from the shops, to protect shoppers from the midday sun.

In centuries past it would have had a full array of merchants offering a wide assortment of ancient everyday items, and luxuries crafted in faraway lands. Today, it’s a gauntlet of tourist themed merchandise, but we found one hidden gem, the Berhami Silver shop. The proprietor and sole craftsman, specializes in unique, intricately woven filigree jewelry.

We shielded our eyes from the bright sun as we left the long, arched tunnel through the ramparts, and looked up at the Skanderbeg National Museum. Built in a historical style to reflect its surroundings, it was a majestic sight, its sandstone blocks glowing in the afternoon sun, and the red and black Albanian flag full out in the breeze.

Its exhibits feature artifacts from Skanderbeg’s era and Albania history. One of the most intriguing displays was a replica of the hero’s signature goat head-topped helmet. Albania’s flag evolved from the two headed eagle on the Byzantine Empire’s flag which flew over Albania from the 4th to 14th centuries.

The double eagle heads symbolized the unity between the Orthodox Church and the Byzantine Empire. The black eagles above the Kastrioti family coat of arms on a crimson background became the flag of rebellion when Skanderbeg raised it above Kruje in 1443. Its colors black and red represent the strength, bravery and heroism of the Albanian people.

Above the castle we rested outside at a small café with an expansive panoramic view. Unaware of castle’s closing time we headed down the slope to the Tekke of Dollma, a small Bektashi Sufi shrine that contains the tomb of the mystic leader, Baba Shemimi. We reached the gate of the tekke’s courtyard just as the caretaker was about to lock the door for the day.

Graciously, he let us stay for a few minutes. The building was still under repair from the 2019 earthquake, but still very interesting. Legend believes the ancient olive tree in the courtyard was planted by Skanderbeg. The castle was a wonderful site to explore, and if we had had more time, we would have visited its ethnographic museum.

The sun was casting a golden glow across the hillside by the time we reached the rooftop terrace of our hotel. We clinked glasses and reflected back upon a fabulous vacation exploring Albania.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

An Albania Road Trip: On the road to Shkodër or Olives, Castles, and Lamb

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Ancient, gnarled olive trees covered the sharp slopes on either side of the road, along a narrow razorback ridge. Their silver-gray olive leaves undulated with light from a morning breeze. Some of the older trees are 3000 years old, and the fruit from the trees is believed to make the best olive oil in Albania, and is sought after by connoisseurs and chefs. An elderly man herded a small flock of sheep across the road, a common occurrence in rural Albania where it seems there is more four-legged traffic than cars.

We parked and walked up a short steep lane, past a school where a coed basketball game was enthusiastically underway, to the ridge’s 1300ft summit and the Preza Fortress. The stronghold was built in the mid 1400’s and played an important role in the Albanian resistance to Ottoman rule.

It was once a massive compound with commanding views of the broad plane of the Tirana Valley to the east. This valley was the favored north-south route for invaders, and was the fertile breadbasket of Albania since the Iron Age. Mid-week in late April we had the site to ourselves except for a group of older men, seemingly an old boys’ club, enjoying each other’s company, tucked away in a small outbuilding with a large glass window through which we could see them playing cards, drinking coffee, and reading the newspaper. Unfortunately, only one tall watch tower remains of the compound, but the panoramic view was fantastic.

Bar Kalaja e Prezës is the restaurant at the site and was a great place to relax with a coffee and absorb the serenity of the landscape from their terraces. There was also a very large lover’s heart perched on the overlook that was the perfect spot for an Instagram photo.

We had left Durrës earlier that morning, headed toward the northern city of Shkodër, and followed the A1 north. We had been in southern Albanian for the prior two weeks and were surprised now by the amount of traffic congestion along this main artery. It was mostly due to the construction project widening the two-lane road, and the economic activities of businesses, with parking lots right next to the road which creaed all sorts of mayhem – cars were pulling off and onto the highway. There were few traffic lights. One section of the road was lined with folks selling parrots and chickens right from the curbside, while at another point men on either side of the road carried puppies up and down the traffic, offering them for sale. Fruit and vegetable stands were a common occurrence. As we’ve mentioned in our earlier blogs, we found Albanians to be very friendly. But put them behind the wheel of a car, and there is an aggressive personality shift, where they throw the driving rules out the window. I know this is a sweeping statement, but when you experience the roads firsthand, you’ll understand, and any Albanian citizen will agree with me. Driving in Albania was a blood sport – the automotive version of rugby.

The one big plus of driving along Albania’s main roads was the superb quality of restaurants attached to gas stations. In the states these are often fast-food chains or “greasy spoons,” that serve caloric, processed foods. Albanians take their cuisine quite seriously, and we found it nearly impossible to have a bad meal in the country. The key though to these roadside restaurants is to pick one where the parking lot is almost full. It’s always a good sign that the place is busy with satisfied customers. The restaurant Autogrill Emanuel, along the SH1, in Balldren was a wonderful find, and a great place for lunch. The façade was ho-hum, it is after all located at a gas station, but the inside was pleasant, and the tables were covered with linen tablecloths.

Near closing time we arrived at Rozafa Castle, parked and started to walk around a small hill that obstructed our view of the fortress. It quickly became apparent that it was too long of a trek uphill, and it would diminish our time exploring the site. Several cars passed us coming downhill and we realized we just might get lucky finding a place to park nearer the entrance. Fortunately, that was the case, but even so it was still a strenuous walk to the center of the citadel.

The views were fantastic. We could see for miles around, especially out over Shkodra Lake where the mountains of Montenegro rose on the northern horizon. To the east the small metropolis of Shkoder spread imposingly across the flatland beneath the foothills of Albanian’s beloved Accursed Mountains. While the panorama to the south encompassed the meandering Drin River.

The first fortifications on the hill date to the Illyrian kingdom during the 4th century BC, though archeological discoveries confirm the hilltop had inhabitants since the Bronze Age. Albania folklore is full of tales of stoic women sacrificing for their country. Though the legend of how Rozafa Castle received its name is one of the more tragic and involves human sacrifice. The tale goes that construction of the castle was beset with difficulties, walls collapsed, workers died. An oracle was consulted and advised that a woman be entombed in the castle’s wall to appease the Gods. Rozafa, a young mother, was chosen, and as the legend goes, willingly participated as long as her chest was left exposed for her infant to breastfeed. For ages afterward it was believed that the liquid dripping from the limestone stalactites on the ceiling of the ancient Illyrian gateway to the fortress was the entombed mother’s milk, and that the castle was alive with her spirit.

The Roman Empire defeated the Illyrians, and over the following centuries the fortress was controlled by an ever-evolving list of rulers that included the Byzantine Empire, Kingdom of Serbia, Lordship of Zeta, Principality of Zaharia, the Venetian Empire, the Ottoman Empire, the Pashalik of Scutari, and the Kingdom of Montenegro.  T

We were taken by the beauty of the old town at the Migjeni roundabout, where an intriguing cityscape included Ebu Beker Moosque’s minarets, and Kisha Katolike Frencekane’s belltower; crenellates and fountains revealed themselves. Shkodër today is Albania’s fifth largest city with a population of 102,000. Though thriving today, the city has had a tumultuous history. Most poignantly in 1967, the Communist dictator Enver Hoxha declared Albania an atheist state and banned the practice of all religions. Churches and mosques were seized and converted to other uses or destroyed. Religious leaders were executed or imprisoned for decades in brutal labor camps and prisons to break their faith. The communist regime viewed anyone who believed in religion as an enemy of the state. Family members of the accused were victimized as well, with the denial of educational opportunities, and decent jobs. Consequently, the citizens of Shkodër who cherished their religious harmony and embraced each other’s Muslim and Christian traditions, in a city where it was not uncommon for members of the same family to practice different religions or intermarry, suffered greatly under communism.

The most poignant insult was the creation of the National Museum of Atheism, an anti-religious propaganda center, in the city. While the borders of Albania were closed to the outside world, even the cities within the country were isolated from each other, and Shkodër sat alone and inaccessible in the northern part of the country. Any news it received of events in southern Albania was heavily censored. Even folks that were “free” likened it to living in a penal colony, as the town had 23 prisons, and nearly every family had someone in jail. The Sigurimi, the communist secret police, had a heavy presence in the city, and encouraged informants to denounce anyone, even for simply wearing a religious cross. Similar to Bunk’Art 2 in Tirana, the site of the Witness and Memory Museum in Shkodër documents the atrocities the communists committed against the townsfolk, in a confiscated Catholic school that was operated as an interrogation center.

The Çoçja Boutique Hotel was only a few minutes from the roundabout, had underground parking, and most importantly was a short walk away from the pedestrian only streets Rruga Kolë Idromeno, and Rruga 28 Nëntori. We are not sure why this small 17-room hotel is only rated three-stars, but it was one of the nicest hotels we have ever stayed in. It’s a newer building that’s exquisitely well decorated, and our bathroom was a modern wonder. The staff was also very nice.

Ten thousand undergraduates attend the University of Shkodër, and the cosmopolitan city’s streets are full of students pedaling across the town’s flat roads. Their presence contributed greatly to Shkodër’s youthful contemporary vibe, that’s much different from the rest of the country. In the evenings the restaurants and cafés along the pedestrian mall were filled with their energetic enthusiasm.

We took advantage of a warm night and enjoyed eating outside on the second-floor balcony, which overlooked the mall, at Bar Restaurant San Francisco, on Rruga Kolë Idromeno. I tried the traditional Shkodër specialty, Tavë kosi, made with lamb, yogurt, eggs, garlic, and oregano, while Donna ordered baked lamb with rice. Roasted vegetables and the house wine accompanied our dinner. All were quite good. We ordered lamb frequently while traveling around Albania, as in the states it is not offered in many restaurants, and when it is it’s very expensive.  

The next morning, we strolled in the opposite direction down the shaded Rruga 28 Nëntori, where preparations were underway for the 11th annual Hemingway Jazz Fest & Swing Marathon, that’s held at the end of April. Unfortunately, we were not in Shkodër for it, but it would have been really nice to watch folks cutting loose. Towards the end of our walk, we reached Shatërvani Park, where there were several sculptures.

One was a whimsical and retro collection of towering, stylized dandelions, which I haven’t been able to find any information about. Nearby, across from the City Hall, stood the Monument Dedicated to the Victims of Communist Persecution.

A plaque near the sculpture states it’s dedicated to the sacrifices, and resistance the people of Shkodër made during the communist dictatorship. This is the first memorial of its kind in Albania and considered long overdue. Many think it is an important first step towards reconciling the atrocities of Albania’s communist past with survivors of the nightmare.

In hindsight two nights in Shkodër wasn’t enough time to adequately explore the city. An extra day would have allowed time to visit some of the museums in the city.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

On the Road to Durrës, Albania: or Lady Bugs, Metallic Men and a Beautiful Seaside City

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Loose gravel gently slid down from the top of the earthen embankment along the road. It was the “heads up!” prelude to a small herd of goats scurrying down the slope to cross the road ahead of us. The last to cross was a young yearling goat, unsure of his footing. It was a transition day for us. We had left Lin, on the shore of Lake Ohrid, near the border with North Macedonia, earlier that morning to drive to Durrës, on the Adriatic Sea. The journey of only 90 miles, 142 km, was our longest single drive in Albania, and can be accomplished in three hours, if so desired. But with us there is always something that piques our interest and requires a detour or U-turn.

Much of the SH3 highway that connects Lin, through Elbasan, to Durrës traverses a sparsely populated remote region of Albania. Occasionally, in what seemed the middle of nowhere, we passed enterprising farmers who had set up temporary produce stands perched atop the road’s guardrails, their donkeys tied nearby. Sadly, factories abandoned after the fall of communism littered the countryside. In Prrenjas though, the artist Eljan Tanini whimsically covered the towers of a defunct nickel mine with 1,380 charming ladybugs, a symbol of good fortune and hope for the future.

On the outskirts of Elbasan we stopped for a snack at the Elita Grill, a newly opened restaurant. It was a very attractive, contemporary space, which stood as a nice counterbalance to the rustic region we had just driven through. The pastries and coffees were very good, and the prices budget friendly. Across the street, the dome of a larger-than-average Cold War era concrete bunker inched above a mechanics shop.

Entering Elbasan we passed the Xhamia e Nazireshës mosque. Across the street from it, a dreamy street mural of a child playfully dancing amidst clouds graced the side of an apartment building. Unfortunately, the traffic was too congested in this spot, and we didn’t stop. An abandoned train track paralleled most of our route from Prrenjas to Elbasan. The rail line once carried nickel ore to the Kombinati Metalurgjik, a huge industrial complex that was built with cooperation from Chairman Mao’s Chinese Communist Party in the 1970’s. The site, easily seen from the highway, now lies in ruins and is a popular spot for amateur industrial archeologists. But at its height it employed 12,000 people and produced the iron, steel and cement for Albania’s 173,000 military bunkers ordered built by the paranoid communist dictator Enver Hoxha, who feared invasion from everyone. We were getting hungry as we reached Tirana. While there were numerous lunch options available, we wanted something with easy on and off access, close to our route. With a quick google search we chose the restaurant Xhafa, which had an outside patio on a hillside that overlooked Tirana. From our experiences across Albania we found that the food was delicious no matter where we stopped. As it was here. Leaving the restaurant, we noticed a large futuristic metallic head in front of an office building next door. We are not sure, but we think the sculpture can be accredited to the Albanian sculptor, Ilirjan Xhixha.

We continued our westerly drive along SH3 until signs for Durrës directed us onto SH2. We wished we had been prepared with our cameras for what emerged next. Across the highway, the most unusual building crowned a small hill. It was seven stories tall, with a neoclassical birthday cake-like façade. On the multi-level corners of the building larger than life statues of the Illyrian Kings stood, as if they were surveying the landscape. Centered atop the colossal building was a mammoth sculpture of the great warrior Skanderbeg, the famous 15th century commander who united Albanians to rebel against the Ottoman Empire. This grand building, with its Las Vegas-type schmaltz, was the Amadeus Palace Hotel. If you enjoy quirky, off-beat things, this might be a place to check out.

We arrived in Durrës late in the afternoon, just in time to see a passenger ferry from Italy enter the harbor, as we drove along the waterfront. Parking with a rental car is always a concern, but we had asked the hotel, Ventus Harbor, where to park. “During the April shoulder season there is plenty of free parking available close to the hotel,” was the response. We are always skeptical of these easy answers, and there was street parking a short distance from the hotel. Though there was an informal parking assistant waving to drivers coming down the street, pointing as to where to park or wait as a cement truck driver readied a delivery to a construction site. We tipped him and hoped for the best. At the reception desk we told them where we left the car, and they said it would be okay, but we could also park on the pier which led to the floating hotel if we preferred. While that option was closer, it required driving through a small, pedestrian-filled shopping mall. The car stayed where we left it and was fine for two days.

Though the futuristically designed Ventus Harbor appears to float above the Adriatic Sea like a spaceship, it is in fact built securely atop pilings pounded into the seabed and connected to shore via a narrow, 300ft long suspension bridge. The hotel’s refreshing uniqueness, which contrasts so distinctively with the stone castles and villages of rural Albania, was our main reason for choosing to stay there.

Towards sunset we headed to the promenade along the seafront and were engulfed by families and friends enjoying the xhiro, the Albanian tradition of an evening stroll to relax and socialize. Fishermen cast the last lines of the day into gentle waves as we walked towards the setting sun and the Sfinksi, a small concrete step pyramid where folks gathered to watch the sun dip below the horizon as the sky faded from a fiery orange to the blue of the evening.

The city’s night skyline slowly awakened with lights, before the stars shined. It was a warm April evening and we slept well with the door to the balcony open, listening to the water lap against the pilings below us.

After breakfast we walked along the promenade into Durrës’ historic old town, which has been centered around the harbor since time immemorial. It has been Albania’s economic engine and vital link connecting Europe to Asia Minor since Greece established a trading colony there in 7th century BC. An Illyrian Kingdom followed in the 4th century BC. But it was the Roman Empire which left the most significant impact. The Romans turned the ancient town, now Illyricum, into a vital trade and military hub with the creation of the Via Egnatia, a cobbled road that crossed 700 miles through the rugged Balkan mountains to Thessaloníki, Greece, and Constantinople. Troops, merchants and religion flowed across its path. The Apostle Paul traveled this route to Durrës in the 1st century, a time when Christians were still thrown to the lions for entertainment in the coliseum across the Roman Empire. Upon the Western Roman Empire’s collapse in 476, the Byzantine Empire filled the void until the tumultuous Dark and Middle Ages brought a succession of invaders to the region. Visigoths, Huns, Bulgarians, Slavs, Normans, and Venetians conquered and fled until the armies of the Ottoman Empire arrived in the 15th century. Austria ruled for a time during WWI. Mussolini’s Fascist troops landed in the port at the start of WWII. The Albanian’s communist partisans defeated their opponents after WWII. In 1967, as if needing to put a sword into the heart of any remaining hope the people of Albania had, the communist dictator, Enver Hoxha, banned all religions, and proclaimed, in the city where the Apostle Paul preached, that Albania is “the first atheistic state in the world.” The city and country has had a turbulent history to say the least.

“Walk a little, and the café,” is a philosophy we like to indulge in, and after our stroll along the promenade past statues of gladiators, liberation fighters, and modern art we needed a break to savor a fine Spring day before reaching the ruins of the city’s ancient Roman amphitheater. The amphitheater was the largest in the Balkans and capable of holding 20,000 spectators.

We passed through a gate in the last remaining section of a defensive wall that once encircled the city. The city’s first ramparts, which stood 40ft tall and stretched for three miles around the core of Durrës, were built by the Byzantine Emperor Anastasius I, a native son, in the 5th century AD. The walls were later expanded and improved upon by the Venetians with stones repurposed from the amphitheater after it suffered irreparable damage from a devastating earthquake in 1267. During the Ottoman era homes were built over the site. Surprisingly, they were rediscovered in 1966 by archeologists surveying the area to identify sites that might be of interest to western tourists. Based on the size of its ruins, the amphitheater must have been magnificent. Sadly, the site has not been improved, and sits surrounded by apartment buildings, but it is on the short list of sites for future inclusion in the UNESCO World Heritage program. Oddly, archeology and building concrete bunkers across Albania were two of Enver Hoxha’s passions.

From the amphitheater it was only a short stroll to the Bulevardi Epidamn, Durrës’ prettiest avenue. It’s not a particularly long street, but its pleasant five blocks are lined with stately palm trees, that give it a splendid Costa del Sol vibe.

We followed it until we reached a well-preserved Venetian Tower, that was once part of the defensive wall that encircled the city, across from the harbor. It was an interesting plaza with more statutes commemorating partisan heroes and a gleaming metal sculpture of Redon, the Illyrian god of the sea, which was strikingly similar to the statue in Tirana. This statue, which nicely blends modern technology with the historical past through its use of materials, was also created by the Durrës-born artist, Ilirjan Xhixha.

Before returning to the waterfront, we detoured back towards the amphitheater, where earlier we had passed a tiny window-in-the-wall bakery, confidently named Bule’s Best Byrek in Town, and single handedly run by the formidable Bule. We bought several byrek and enjoyed them as we picnicked along the coast. The cheese and spinach ones were our favorites, and indeed were delicious, and so inexpensive. Go early, as they sell out quickly.

It was still the Spring shoulder season, and many restaurants stayed closed until the warmer weather in May arrives. We had crisscrossed Albania for two weeks by this time and were familiar with prices, but the night before we choose to dine at slightly upscale establishment, for a nice seafood dinner, that received good reviews. While our dinners were tasty, the portions were smaller than what’s typically Albanian. And it was the first time that we felt there was some tourist price-gouging happening.

For our last night in Durrës we decided to go no-frills. After much hemming and hawing we entered the Hepta Grill, a Greek fast-food restaurant, located at the base of the walkway that led to our hotel. The place was lively, the staff was nice, and the food was perfect. We left thinking we could enjoy living in Durrës.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

An Albanian Road Trip: Gjriokaster, Përmet and the Vjosa Wild River National Park

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Traveling north or south in Albania is easy, as the roads follow the lay of the land between mountain ranges that run parallel with each other. Heading east away from the coast towards villages and small towns farther inland is a bit more difficult. Destinations that appeared relatively close on a map, from a bird’s eye view, often became a driving marathon following routes north or south until the rugged massifs conceded a mountain pass that was suitable for a road to be constructed across. Road tunnels did not exist during the communist dictatorship of Enver Hoxha. Though tunnels were extensively built across the country as part of Hoxha’s “bunkerisation” program, which constructed an estimated 173,000 military bunkers across the country. Fortunately, as tourism has blossomed, Albania has invested in its roadway infrastructure, and our route to Gjirokaster from Sarande benefited from it. We were able to traverse our way across the deep gorges of the Mali i Gjerë range along the recently opened Kardhiq-Delvin road and scoot under the 7,000 foot high massif through the mile long Skërfica tunnel. It was a beautiful and dramatic stretch of roadway with expansive views at every curve.

There is nothing subtle about Gjiokaster; it’s a gorgeous place. The ancient town’s beauty startled us like a slap across the face, as soon as we turned off the main road. The town rose from the Drino River valley up the steep eastern flank of the Mali i Gjerë mountains. Large fortified tower houses, known as kullëh, dating from the 17th and 18thcenturies, followed the topography and were built randomly across the slope, as if they were stepping stones across a river. These small family fortresses were built to protect against foreign invaders and violent feuds between Albanian clans. 

Gjirokaster Castle centered the landscape atop a long thin ridge that protruded from the lower slope of the mountain. At the castle’s apex the red and black flag of Albania blew full out in the wind, its colors vividly contrasting against the verdant hillside.

Little is known about Gjirokaster’s early history, though archeological evidence suggests that the area has been inhabited since the 5th century BC, and that a smaller fortification in the 2nd century BC existed where Gjirokaster Castle now stands. Gjirokaster isn’t mentioned in any historic records until 1336 when a Byzantine chronicler noted it. By the early 15th century, the region was under Ottoman rule and Gjirokaster was an administration center. The town’s residents prospered from their industriousness in embroidery, silk, wool, flannel, dairy products, and livestock. The notorious Albanian brigand, warlord, and Ottoman governor, Ali Pasha of Tepelenë – more about him later – acquired control of Gjirokaster in 1811 and built the magnificent castle/fortress that crowns the city.

We were able to find parking on the street near the castle’s entrance, just after the site opened. Unfortunately, we were in the ticket queue behind a large student group on a school outing. But the line went quickly, and the students soon vanished into the cavernous lower level. Its high arched ceiling resembled the interior of a medieval cathedral more than any fortress we’ve toured previously. This was the ancient storeroom, barracks, and stable area. Today the open undercroft is used to display a collection of antiquated artillery pieces, tanks, and antiaircraft guns, that have been used in the conflicts of the past 200 years that have engulfed the country. Farther on there are rooms with exhibits about Albania’s complicated history over the centuries, the WWII resistance and folklore heroes. Especially moving was the tale of legendary Princess Argjiro, who, with her young son in her arms, is believed to have jumped from the castle wall to their deaths, to avoid imminent capture by the Ottomans.

Not wanting to miss anything, we climbed stairs in the museum and followed signs to a small military museum, that had an extensive collection of ancient swords, rifles and pistols. But, on our return walk we noticed a small discreet sign that pointed to the prison.

This part of the fortress was added in 1932 by King Zog, who ruled Albania from 1922-1939. The later communist regime under Hoxha filled it with political prisoners. It was a chilling experience walking the hallways and entering the cells where prisoners slept on the floor, without blankets, through the cold winter months.

The top level of the castle features a clock tower and also offers a fantastic 360-degree panoramic view of the Drino River and the Mali i Gjerë mountains.

Oddly, on display is the fuselage of an American fighter jet, whose pilot flew off course while flying over the Adriatic Sea in 1957 and violated Albanian airspace.

The pilot was forced to land at Tirana airport by two Albanian jets that intercepted it. These were the Cold War years, and the incident fueled Enver Hoxha’s paranoia that the West was going to invade Albania at any moment. He also used the event to further justify his “bunkerisation” of the nation. The castle is also the amazing venue for Albania’s National Folklore Festival. This event is held every five years and was first orchestrated in 1968 to celebrate the despot’s 60th birthday, in his hometown. An Albanian postage stamp, with his portait, issued in1968 also commemorated the occasion. After the castle we walked a short distance towards the mountains, to lunch nearby at Taverna Tradicionale Kardhashi. The restaurant is just 200ft past the intersection where several restaurant hustlers tried to steer us to different establishments. The owner was a gregarious fellow, and delights in sharing the tasty Albanian specialties that his nënë and gjyshja must have created in the kitchen. Our lunch was wonderful and very reasonably priced.

After lunch it began to rain as we headed to check-in at our lodging for the night, the Hotel Bineri. The hotel is conveniently located near the center of the Gjirokaster’s old town, and we specifically chose it because they offered parking. A huge part of Gjirokaster’s charm comes from its meandering archaic footprint that follows the natural lay of the land, but driving to the hotel along the town’s ancient cobbled alleys, that were built for horses drawing farm carts, was a nerve-wracking experience. Our mapping app was totally confounded by the one-way roads, and lanes wide enough to start down but then ended at a set of stairs or required K-turns to negotiate. We tried multiple routes. The fact that it was raining didn’t help. The one saving grace was we did not encounter any cars coming downhill as we were going up. This was such a relief as there was no room to pull over, and it would have required us to back down the alley. The lane ended as we reached the hotel. It was not obvious where to park, and we didn’t want to get ticketed, so Donna trekked up a tall flight of stairs to reception to inquire about it. It seemed the hotel was short staffed during the shoulder season, and the cleaning staff was manning the front desk. Eventually it was conveyed that Donna should inquire at the bar, across the street from the bottom of the stairs. “No problem, park behind my SUV over there.” But this was a difficult task that required us to pull forward and then reverse up a switchback driveway that paralleled the alley we had just driven up. There was barely enough room to squeeze by the SUV and there was no wall to prevent me from mistakenly putting two wheels over the edge. And did I mention it was heavily raining?

The Bineri is a very stately hotel, and our room was very nice, with great attention paid to fine woodworking throughout. However, we were dismayed when we realized a rambunctious student group shared the floor with us. After dinner the rain had stopped, and we wandered along the cobblestones of the five lanes that converge in the center of the old town. The stones still glistened from the earlier rain and reflected the lights of the shops and restaurants still open. The clock tower at the castle was illuminated against a royal blue night sky.

I’m hard of hearing, but Donna is a very light sleeper, and we inquired about a room change to avoid the loud students, only to be told the hotel was full. They graciously offered us a bottle of white wine and delicious orange peels soaked in honey for dessert, which we enjoyed in the restaurant until it quieted upstairs. Considering the price of our room, we are not sure if this was fair compensation for a poor night’s sleep. It was the third week of April, and overnight the rain had turned to snow on the higher elevations of the mountains around Gjirokaster. They brilliantly glistened in the morning sun. A week earlier, when we landed in Tirana, it was 80F for several days.

Very often gas stations along the roads in Albania are attached to a restaurant, and sometimes there will be a hotel too. These are not the iconic American greasy spoons, associated with truck stops. We found them to be surprisingly nice places to dine, especially if their parking lot was busy. The BOV station on the way to the Castle of Tepelena, was an exceptional place to stop. We enjoyed coffee on their patio which had a tremendous view of the confluence of the Drinos and Vjosa River.

The Castle of Tepelena dramatically commands a cliff face above the Vjosa River Valley. It’s a supremely strategic location with views of the valley extending for miles north and south. The flat river plane was a natural highway that has funneled invaders into the Balkans since antiquity.

A Byzantine fort first occupied this spot and was later expanded by the Ottomans and Ali Pasha. Ali Pasha was a figure in Albanian history, with an interesting background story. He was born in 1740, nearby in the small hamlet of Beçisht, into a family of notorious brigands. He followed his family’s business plan until the Ottomans, who embraced a philosophy of if I can’t defeat you, I will employ you, hired him into the administrative-military apparatus of the empire. A savvy and talented individual, Ali rose through the ranks and was eventually appointed Pasha of the region, the Ottoman equivalent of a governor, in 1788. He benefited from Albania’s remoteness from Constantinople and governed the region as an autonomous despot intent on enriching himself and his clan. He was intelligent, charming, charismatic, ruthless, and brutal. Captured enemy leaders were roasted alive. Men from rebellious villages were executed, the women and children sold into slavery to intimidate other villages into submission during the day while he entertained the likes of British poet Lord Byron and the French diplomat François Pouqueville in the evenings. He was a political opportunist who allied himself with anyone he thought served his interests. By 1819 Sultan Mahmud II had had enough of Ali’s deceit. Ali was captured and shot after a long siege of Ioannina, in Greece. His head was sent to the sultan and was publicly displayed, on a platter, in the sultan’s Constantinople palace.

Sadly, only the defensive walls that encircled the 10-acre fortress remain. Its mosque, barracks, and stables, along with Ali’s palace, which Byron one described as “splendidly ornamented with silk and gold,” have been lost to earthquake damage, and battles during WW1 and WW2. Now streets lined with small homes course through the site. Tepelena itself is a quaint town that’s worth exploring.

We had gotten off to an early start, as our destination for the end of the day was the Melesin Distillery in Leskovik, near the border with Greece, which also offered stylish, luxurious rooms. It was only 56 miles, 90 km, from the Tepelena Castle, but with a break for lunch and a stop at the Kadiut Bridge in the Langarica Canyon, it would take all day.

From Tepelena we followed the winding SH75 south along the Vjosa River Valley. It was a beautiful stretch of road, and we stopped many times to take landscape photos along the way. The valley narrows near the village of Këlcyrë, where in 198 BC the battle of the Aous raged between armies of the Roman Republic and the Kingdom of Macedon. It was an epic confrontation, and “the river ran red with the blood of 2000 dead and wounded.”

Aous is the ancient name for the Vjosa River which originates in the Pindus mountains of Greece, but from the Albanian border to the Adriatic Sea it’s called the Vjosa. The 168-mile-long waterway and its many tributaries are among the last free-flowing, wild rivers in Europe.  And since March 2023, 50,000 acres have been protected as the Vjosa Wild River National Park to ensure that the rivers within its boundary will never be dammed, mined, or dredged.

Across the river, overnight snow had covered the Nemërçka mountain ridges, and the pure white snowcap gleamed between a deep blue sky and verdant mountain slopes. On the other side of the road, we spotted the green domes of Teqja e Baba Aliut, a Bektashi (an Islamic Sufi mystic order,) pilgrimage site in the remote mountaintop village of Alipostivan. The site commemorates Baba Aliut, a ledendary figure who is believed to have ridden a white horse from Mecca to Albania, to save the country from paganism. Key supporters of the the Albanian National Awakening Ba Baba Abdullah, and Baba Dule Përmeti are also buried at the site. Knowing about the shrine now, I wish we had included it in our plans.

We reached Përmet around noon and headed to Guri i Qytetit, a very large bulbous rock that protrudes from the terrain along the river, like a wart on a witch’s nose. It’s a geological feature unique to Përmet with stairs that lead to the top, where we interrupted two young teenagers sharing their first cigarettes as they sat on the ruins of an ancient watch tower. There was a great view of the Vjosa River and the town.

Nearby we found Sofra Përmetare, a small restaurant that was booming with a Saturday lunch crowd, and we needed to have our coffee outside before an inside table was ready. Our lack of Albanian didn’t faze the owner, and he proudly called his son over to explain the menu to us. His English was excellent, explaining that he studied it in school and watched American TV programs. We really enjoyed Albanian food, and appreciated that vegetable dishes were always available, and that French fries didn’t automatically accompany every meal. In the more rural parts of the country it’s important to carry cash, as many restaurants, shops, and gas stations do not accept credit cards.

The side road cut through a wide valley planted with orchards and field crops. We were headed to the Ottoman-era Kadiut Bridge, built in the 1600’s across the Lengarica River as part of a caravan route that connected the Albanian coast through Përmet to Korce, Thessaloniki, and Constatinople. Locally, oxen laden with timber cut in the mountains hauled their loads to Përmet, the quickly growing regional center, over the bridge.

The old stone Ottoman bridges are truly graceful with their high arch design. But the real draw for folks to the bridge are the Llixhat e Bënjës, thermal hot springs at its base. Even in mid-April there was a sizeable crowd in various stages of undress enjoying the warm water.

On the Saturday afternoon that we followed the SH75 to Leskovik there was very little traffic, but we did notice a number of roadside memorials to the victims of car accidents. While Albanians are very friendly, they are extremely aggressive drivers who, I speculate, pour raki on the driver’s rule book, set it afire with a cigarette, and toss it out the window while they are driving. A newly paved roadway rose into the mountains and we stopped at a scenic overlook, where a historic plaque noted another Battle of the Aous was fought in the valley below the towering Nemërçka mountains in 274 BC between the armies of King Pyrrhus of Epirus (Greece,) and King Antigonus II Gonatas of Macedon.

The road wound, zigged and zagged, climbed, and fell through tall pine forests that covered the mountain slopes before it summited and continued its winding descent to Leskovik. The drive along the river and through the mountains was beautiful and the area is full of potential for outdoor enthusiasts to enjoy rafting, camping and hiking in the Vjosa Wild River National Park.

Under a stormy sky when we arrived, it was difficult to believe that the Ottomans established Leskovik as a summer resort for wealthy officials who owned estates in the region when it was under their control. Fortunately, we were pampered with a wonderful stay at the Melesin Distillery, truly a five-star boutique hotel in the wilderness of southern Albania. Its eight guest rooms upstairs are well designed, and nicely appointed with stylish furnishings, and great amenities.

The distillery makes raki with locally harvested grapes, and gin flavored with juniper berries hand-picked in the mountains. Grapes have been grown in the region for centuries and the area’s wineries were productive and known for producing a strong red wine from Mavrud, an indigenous grape varietal, during the communist years.

But after the fall of the regime in the 1990’s and the economic collapse that followed, many people moved away to find work abroad, and the vineyards surrounding Leskovik were abandoned or destroyed. The Melesin Distillery along with the Max Mavrud Winery are hoping to reinvigorate the area’s historic winemaking tradition. Our dinner was excellent, as was our breakfast the next morning. On the plaza in front of the distillery there is a fountain shaped like a wine cask at the base of a stately tree, and a statue of Jani Vreto renown as an important figure in the Albanian National Awakening in the 19th century, and his epic poem, Histori e Skënderbeut, History of Skanderbeg, dedicated to Albania’s national hero.

The Melesin Distillery in Leskovik was the perfect way station before we continued onto Voskopoja for its Orthodox churches, and Korce.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

P.S. We only scratched the surface of GjiroKaster, and should have planned for a two night stay in the beguiling town.

Albania Road Trip: ​​​Beaches, Icons & Ruins or Saranda, Ksamil & the Albanian Riviera

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With his eyes still focused on the newspaper spread across the steering wheel of his Mercedes, the caretaker acknowledged our presence, and his ambivalence to our disturbing his quiet routine, with a slight nod. His left index finger barely raised off the steering wheel confirmed the direction through the gate. He sipped from his thermos before turning to the next page of the Gazeta Panorama.

From Upper Qeparo we had made good time driving south along the Albanian coast, only stopping occasionally, as it was a grey day, to admire the dramatic, refreshingly undeveloped coastline. And by the time we walked around the exterior of the church at Manastiri i Shën Nikollës, Monastery of Saint Nicholas, in Mesopotamia, the caretaker was unlocking the ancient door to the sanctuary.

Built in 1224, above a 3rd century BC Greek temple, the church incorporated some of the ancient structure’s still-standing walls in a unique twin apse design, that accommodated Orthodox and Catholic religious services. Light cascading through pigeonhole venting high up on the exterior walls illuminated the interior and gave the wall’s ancient blue paint an ethereal patina. Sadly, the blue paint was applied over original frescoes during the Ottoman era when the church was converted to a mosque and human figures were no longer allowed in religious sites.

After 800 years the church is showing its age with cracks in the walls. A newer cinderblock column stood amid its arches to support the sagging roof. Gold and silver rimmed the icons hung on the carved wooden screen that separated the nave from a remarkable surviving frescoed altar.

Carved stone relief sculptures on outside walls of serpent dragons with their twisting tails tied in knots, as well as a lion, are attributed to the church’s ancient Greek builders.

The church and nearby foundation ruins of the monks’ living quarters are all that remain from what was once a large monastery, surrounded by a defensive wall with seven towers. Its stones were carted away long ago to Mesopotamia, and other nearby villages. We had planned to visit the Blue Eye, a crystal clear natural spring, only 30 minutes down the road, but a darkening grey sky deterred us.

Clearing skies greeted our late afternoon arrival at the Harmony Hotel in Saranda. While the freedom a rental car offers during the day is fantastic, the rental often becomes an expensive ball and chain when considering overnight parking options.Fortunately, during the mid-April shoulder season, the Harmony Hotel had plenty of parking right out front on a street that was as steep as those in San Francisco. Concerned that if the parking brake ever failed the car would roll downhill into the Adriatic, I curbed the wheels, a concern the receptionist thought was unwarranted. The local folks never curb their wheels, and no cars have rolled away to a watery grave. Still. The hotel is run by a wonderfully enthusiastic and friendly extended family that exudes hospitality. The sister-in-law guided us upstairs and down a freshly painted hallway, touching the walls every so often to make sure the paint had dried, to a crisp, all white room, with a balcony and a distant view of Corfu, Greece, on the horizon. It was the perfect romantic spot for two nights. 

While we prefer touring in the shoulder season to avoid the crowds and heat of the summer months, one of the compromises we often encounter is the closure of many restaurants that would otherwise be open. Fortunately, the hotel’s restaurant was open, and surprisingly it was an unexpected fine dining experience that became one of the highlights of our vacation! We dined there both nights of our stay because the locally sourced seafood and vegetables were extremely flavorful, excellently prepared, totally delicious; Grilled octopus accompanied with a puree of eggplant and pistachio, Albanian Tuna with carrots and asparagus, and local Butrint mussels with fennel were beautifully presented. The restaurant deserves to be a destination in itself. We still remember these dinners as some of the best meals we’ve ever had. If you are staying in Sarande, head to the Harmony Restaurant – you won’t be disappointed! 

After dinner our gregarious host joined us.  And as we sipped raki, or rakija, together he explained this is powerful stuff with an alcohol content of 45-50%, or as high as 80%, especially if its homemade. Since it’s a traditional Albanian drink, many households pride themselves on their home distilled raki. He went on to explain that many countries have a strong distilled spirit: Mexico with its tequila, Italy has grappa, Greece ouzo, and Russia Vodka. But Albania’s raki is legendary and went on to illustrate it with a story. Three groups of friendly mice hailed from different countries. The mice from Mexico drank tequila and happily partied till morning singing Mariachi songs and dancing. The group of Russian mice, imbibing vodka all evening, became sullen, and eventually fell asleep with their heads on the table. But the Albanian mice, deep into their glasses of raki, become feisty and boisterous, and yell, BRING US THE CAT!! They proceed to chase the unlucky feline around the bar all night. There was also some speculation that Albanian raki might have fueled the first Russian space flight.

The next morning, we watched from our balcony, as the fast ferry from Corfu sped across the water as it headed to dock along the Saranda promenade. We followed it there after breakfast. The Saranda promenade is along a lovely part of the Albanian Riviera, where the coast bends like the crook of your elbow. The views of the beach, water, mountains and city were spectacular, with the sky speckled with cumulus clouds.

Fishermen sold their morning catch from the bows of their boats tied to the quay. A super-yacht cruised into the harbor and dropped anchor, not far offshore. Our “walk a little, then café,” philosophy brought us to the outdoor tables at Bar Restaurant Limani, on the waterfront.

Later that morning we headed south towards Greece and stopped in the beach town of Ksamil, on the Ionian Sea, to specifically visit that iconic swing set in the ocean, that’s symbolic of the area’s laid-back vibe and tranquility – at least during the day anyway. It’s set in the surf directly across from the Poda Beach Bar if you need a landmark.

The horseshoe shaped beach was a brilliant white, with gentle waves caressing the sand. The water was an inviting aquamarine that faded to shades of cobalt blue as the water deepened. Dipping our toes in the still cold Ionian Sea was as far as we got. In the background the Ksamil Islands separated us from nearby Corfu.  

An easy 15 minute drive from Ksamil, we arrived mid-afternoon to the Butrint National Archaeological Park, a UNESCO site since 1992. Parking was easily found near the entrance, by the small car ferry.

Folks who want to see the old Venetian Castle across the waterway, and those traveling farther south to Greece, need to use the ferry to cross the Vivari Channel, which feeds water to Lake Butrint, really a salt water lagoon. For several millennium it was a vital artery, protected by fortresses on both sides of the waterway, for ancient shipping fleets that sought a safe anchorage in Lake Butrint. 

The lake is surrounded by Butrint National Park which was established in the 1990’s to protect the wetland area that is internationally recognized as a supreme habitat for many different bird and fish species. Today the Vivari Channel’s nutrient rich waters continue to support many mussel farms that raise the unique Blue Butrint mollusks. Favored for their high nutrient content, mussels were an important food stock during the lean communist years. A great place to try them is nearby at the Mussel House, run by entrepreneurial Husein Mane and his family. Proudly it’s recognized as the 19th free enterprise business registered in Albania after the fall of communism.

Located on a bulbous peninsula, almost completely surrounded by water, this small defensive hill has been trodden upon since the bronze and iron ages. Later an Illyrian tribe left their detritus. it’s believed the first substantial improvements were made when Greek traders from nearby Corfu established a colony on the hill and built an acropolis in the 8th BC and called it Buthrotum.

The ancient ruins are spread across a beautiful park-like setting, with dirt paths following the riverfront, and winding between the monuments, under tall shade trees. It’s the perfect locale to release your latent Indiana Jones or Laura Croft. It’s obvious from the wonderful aesthetics of the landscape why a succession of civilizations have settled the land, and why the UNESCO literature describes the site “as a microcosm of Mediterranean history.”

After the Greeks, the Julius Caesar arrived in 48 BC and called the city Bouthrotos. I can imagine Caesar atop the hill standing next to Pliny the Architect and asking, “Pliny, what can you do with all of this Greek rubble?” Emperor Augustus renamed the city Colonia Augusta Buthrotumhe. The city thrived under several centuries of Roman rule, its coffers full from trade with the Western Roman and Byzantine Empires. It was during this period of prosperity that a bridge and aqueduct across the Vivari Channel were built. The aqueduct, a testament to Roman engineering, spanned the waterway and continued to a fresh water, mountain spring four miles to the east. Many substantial buildings include a Forum, Roman Baths with heated water, Capitolium, a Gymnasium complex, and a circular Baptistery with a splendid mosaic floor. The floor is covered with sand to preserve it, but it is occasionally revealed for several days each year. Temples dedicated to mythological gods were eventually replaced with a Christian Basilica. Villas of the wealthy dotted the lake shore.

Charles I of Anjou of the Angevin dynasty, aka the King of Sicily, who later named himself King of Albania too, wrestled control of Bouthrotos away from the Byzantines in 1292. The Angevin dynasty ruled the city for nearly 100 years before the Republic of Venice said, “let’s make a deal,” and purchased the city in 1386. This strategic decision gave the Venetians nearly total control of the Adriatic Sea. They reinforced their intent with the construction of a Castle, now the archeological museum, atop the ancient Greek acropolis, at the highest point of the hill.  Defensive walls and towers along the shoreline, and a fort across the Vivari waterway were built to help protect their new possession, Butrinto, and harbor.  Three hundred years of near continuous conflict followed with the Ottoman empire as it fought to spread its reach across eastern Europe, Greece and the Balkans. The city finally fell to the notorious Ottoman Albanian warlord Ali Pasha Tepelena in 1799, but was soon abandoned as the marshes around the peninsula were infested with malaria carrying mosquitos. Shepherds and their flocks wandered amid the ruins until the first archeological excavations began in 1928. The dig was funded by Italy’s Fascist government headed by Benito Mussolini, with the aim to extend Italy’s historic ties to the region, and support a case for Italy’s bid to annex Albania. 

We enjoyed a wonderful afternoon exploring the ruins, and after also visiting the Apollonia Archaeological Park, we must say Butrint is a larger, and far more interesting site, w hich two thousand years ago the Roman writer Virgil described as being as beautiful as the ancient city of Troy, in his poem, Aeneid.

Back in Saranda, we watched the sunset as the ferry from Italy sailed across waters once rowed by the Greek, Roman, and Venetian galleys. We packed. The next morning, we headed to Gjirokaster.

Till next time, Craig & Donna