BERAT, ALBANIA

2015-10-20, 22:32, THORIN 

STAY: BERAT BACKPACKER'S HOSTEL

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After setting out before dawn from Kotor, Montenegro in the morning, we eventually made it to Berat, Albania just before 17:00. Although the distance is a good 300km, we took two public buses, one taxi and one furgon (Albanian minivans that serve as de facto public transport) to get to Berat and god were we relieved. Leaving Tirana was slightly surreal as we passed by what seemed like rubbish tips only to see people emerge from inside. The motorway disappears an hour or so out of Tirana, and quickly the whole road turns to dirt. We were on a furgon, which picked up and dropped off whenever hailed, all for the price of 500 lek (4 USD). We passed the bizarre Albanian roadside landscape with building skeletons and concrete structures with a house on one story and completely gutted in all the others. Not only that, but people side-saddle riding donkeys along the road made it very surreal.

By the time we reached Berat, we had to find the only hostel in the town (owned by a geordie) and checked in before going off to explore. Berat is considered somewhat a jewel in the Albanian crown - a world heritage site, it is known as the ‘city of 1001 windows’ as almost the whole town has retained the trademark large-window Ottoman architecture from the days of the Ottoman empire.

We spent the afternoon looking around Berat castle, which is one of the more unique castles that I have seen. The castle itself is a stunning ruined compound, but the most impressive part is that, being Albania, people still live in the castle! As we walked through, we were literally walking past front doors. People had made homes i the castle walls, without building or extending much into them - just using the same homes that had existed for the last half century. It was incredibly satisfying, seeing this castle that had served the people so many years ago as a home and stronghold, still being used. Very much living history.

We went to a local restaurant and had local specialities (yoghourt soup, sheep intestine and local wine) which was delicious, and then walked around the newer part of town. Albania is fascinating because the country is very poor, and consequently the locals (only men, mind!) spend their nights getting dressed up and walking up and down the main street, maybe having a coffee. But their socialising has almost no cost involved. We went back to the hostel and had a great night of drinking local homemade plum brandy (raki) with the only other guest and the owner, and a bloke helping out for a month. The next morning we had some locally made burek (local cheese in filo pastry) before heading out to the ‘bus station’, which was a part of the main street where any buses passing through Berat were most likely to pass. We didn’t like the sound of that.

We left with a girl who also happened to be making her way across the Albanian mountain passes to Ohrid in Macedonia, which was our next destination. We reached the ‘bus stop’ and waited patiently for the 10:30am bus that was ‘hopefully’ going to pass by. 1030 passed. 11, then 1130. In the pissing rain. An old Albanian man hobbled up to us and started gesturing vociferously with thick Albanian. Shockingly we had no idea what he was saying. He realised that we hadn’t the foggiest what he was saying and he gave up. We asked him in Spanish if he spoke Spanish, and he nodded his head (which means no) but then replied in thickly accented Italian. My Spanish is patchy at best (Jason’s is much better) but we were able to talk to him and figure out that the bus ‘hadn’t shown up’. He told us that another bus should come at midday (which took us ages to figure out that dodici was Italian for 12).

Noon came and went and we were getting pretty antsy - we wanted to make it to Macedonia before dusk. The old man hobbled back over to inform us that he supposed that the bus wasn’t coming today. Instead, he and about 5 helpers beckoned us onto a soviet-era coach that they hailed in the street and told us to take it Lushnje, and then change to Elbasan, from which we could reach the mountain border. Like we could remember that, but we had no choice!

I boarded the coach first, and this old man who looked like the chap from “Up” turned and said in English: “Good you have arrived. We have been expecting you.” WHAT. WHO IS THIS WARLOCK. It turned out he was going to Elbasan, and the proceeded to talk to me about Bee hives and Donna Summer for the better part of two hours. We got to Lushnje and caught another soviet-era coach (not after Up-man called three touting furlong drivers ‘evil alcoholics’) and finally got into Elbasan. He then walked the entire length of the city (so it seemed) with us, before securing us a furlong to the border. Truly surreal, and I can’t help but wonder if he was the same angelic being is our guide dog in Kotor.

We eventually got to the Macedonian border and happily walked over, much to the bemusement of the bored guards behind the counter.

I cannot recommend Albania highly enough. Unfortunately we only got a short time here, but it was one of the most unique countries that I have been to, and am edging to return!