One of the 700,000 bunkers in the Albanian countryside

One of the first topics we will read or hear about Albania is usually the bunkers. Of course there is so much more to this fascinating country than the concrete mushrooms that litter the landscape and I felt it right to write about some of these highlights first. At the same time however a description of Albania is not complete without mention of these bizarre structures that mark this corner of Europe out like no other.

Surely one of the world’s biggest concrete projects was started in 1950 by the Albanian leader of the day, Enver Hoxha. Convinced that his country was going to be invaded by a malevolent neighbour, he stamped his own authority on a new and unorthodox method of national defence and had a prototype constructed.

According to the stories he asked the chief engineer of the prototype whether the bunker would be able to withstand a tank attack. When he replied with certainty that it would, he ordered the engineer into the bunker and promptly attacked it with a tank. Thankfully for the engineer he was proved correct. And so the rapid roll-out of bunkers began. Over the next 35 years until Hoxha’s death, in the region of 700,000 of these concrete mushrooms sprouted up across the hills and valleys of Albania.

More bunkers on our journey through Albania

The attack never came, and after the fall of the communist regime the bunkers lost their military usefulness (if indeed they ever had one). The Lonely Planet guidebook peddles a story that many Albanians lost their virginity in one of these secret hide-outs, but I’d like to give the Albanians the benefit of the doubt and put this in the urban myth bucket. They don’t look like the sort of place you would take your girlfriend if you were setting out to impress.

Passing through Albania on the old buses and minibuses that we used during our trip, I was regularly on the look-out for these grey oddities. They could be spotted by the roadside, on farmland, by rivers and even high up on desolate mountainsides. I was left to wonder how on earth someone managed to drag all those building materials to such inaccessible places – and for what?

Albania has long since emerged from the dark shadow of Hoxha’s despotic rule, and while it still has a long way to go to catch up with the rest of Europe in terms of economic development, it’s clearly a country that is looking to the future. As for the bunkers, it seems that those concrete eye sores will be there for a long time to come.

Related posts

Tirana: sightseeing in a place with no sights

In search of Albanian fortresses

Behind the crowds: people watching in the Balkans

Also check out the Concrete Mushrooms website – well worth a read

Albania and its indestructible bunkers is a post from: 501 Places

The first thing that most visitors to Albania will notice is that little has been done to make the place look nice. While further up the Adriatic coast the Ottoman treasures in former Yugoslavia have been carefully and expensively restored, this has not happened in Albania. Apart from the dramatic rainbow coloured transformation of some of Tirana’s apartment blocks, you can see things pretty much as they have been for many years.

In a country so surprisingly rich with historical monuments this offers a unique opportunity to the visitor; to see ancient and medieval sites that have not yet enjoyed the hand of the restoration teams. We managed to visit three of these sites while in Albania, and each offered us a different insight into the history of this old and frequently troubled corner of Europe.

Kruja

View from the fortress at Kruja

Kruja is only an hour from Tirana and occupies a dramatic hillside setting, with far-reaching views to the west. It is the home of Skanderbeg, Albania’s 15th century hero (he’s up there with Mother Theresa in the all-time greats). The fortress now houses a modern museum that was built during the time of the communist regime and tells the stories of Skanderbeg and his personal contribtion to Albania’s war-torn past.

The museum at Kruja

The fortress at Kruja

Berat

Probably Albania’s most popular attraction, the pleasant city Berat is made up of three distinct areas. The modern city area of Mangalem sits of the north bank of the river and is where the main shops and restaurants can be found. It is also where the people of Berat come out to promenade at dusk each day. On the other side of the river is Gorica, a near-perfect settlement of Ottoman houses.

At the Kala, Berat

But the main draw of Berat is Kala, the hill fortress that looked for all the world to us like an abandoned city, yet is still very much a living place. It was only later that I reflected and realised that we were the only idiots not hiding from the 40+ degree heat in the middle of the day.

At the Kala, Berat

Kala houses a beautiful old cathedral that is home of a highly impressive selection of icons (the young curator is only too keen to explain their significance to any visitors). It is also home to several other attractive churches, although many are now inaccesible due to their poor state of upkeep.

It’s hard to imagine Berat has changed much over the centuries, and it is that natural decay that gave it a special sense of peace, even in the scorching heat of the day.

View of Berat Kala

Shkodra

This northern city is the first or last stop for most people passing in or out of Albania by land. From the fortress it is easy to follow the coastline well into Montenegro. Rozafa fortress is named after a woman who was walled into the construction as a sacrifice to the gods. Apparently she asked for two holes to be built in the walls so that she could continue to nurse her children while walled up.

Rozafa Fortress, Shkodra

We didn’t see any sight of the lady herself, but the ruins now make a popular attraction. In fact we guessed that many of the Sunday afternoon crowd who we found there were day-trippers from Montenegro (a view reinforced by the fact that we were staying in the largest hotel in the city and there were fewer than 15 guests staying there).

Rozafa Fortress, Shkodra

The fortress makes a good walk out of the city (around 40 minutes each way) or a modest taxi fare. It is a place to wander, enjoy the spectacular views and contemplate on the battles and changes that would have been seen from these walls in the last few centuries.

Rozafa Fortress, Shkodra

In search of Albanian fortresses is a post from: 501 Places

One of the greatest pleasures of travelling through the western Balkan region was the fact that as tourists we were always given our own space to observe, experience and interact if and when we were happy to do so. I mean this as a contrast to those many places where as a visitor from western Europe you are constantly being cajoled into shops, towards restaurants or being approached for money by direct or indirect means. The latter scenario is entirely understandable but the former undoubtedly makes for a more pleasant and hassle-free trip.

As a result of this space we were able to witness many of the very ordinary activities in the towns and cities we visited. I’ve put together this small selection of images from my photo album, showing a little of the everyday life from the places we visited. I’ve never been particularly good at photographing people (I’m just not comfortable with doing it), so as a result I didn’t have that many to choose from; in fact I was quite surprised to find seven!

Evening promenade in Berat, central Albania - it seemed the whole town was out enjoying the warm evening

This group of young singers in Ohrid, Macedonia created a large gathering of admirers on the main street

A Macedonian wedding, Ohrid - we watched the elaborate motorcade from a hilltop vantage point

These formidable men ensured there was no entry to the old settlement (now exclusive resort) of Sveti Stefan, Montenegro

An animated chess game in Sarajevo - we watched in silence as the crowd of men shouted advice to the two players before every move

Pilgrims touch the statue of Christ at the Catholic shrine of Medjugorje, Bosnia and Hercegovina. The knee of the statue is said to emit an unexplained colourless fluid

Dubrovnik in mid-morning, when the cruise ships have deposited their cargo onto the streets of this beautiful old town

Behind the crowds: people watching in the Balkans is a post from: 501 Places

Et'hem Bey Mosque, Tirana

London, Paris, Rome, Prague: mention these European capitals to most people and they will instantly conjure up an image of a famous building or scene from a favourite movie. Mention Tirana however and you’re likely to be met with a blank stare. And it’s hardly surprising; as the capital of one of Europe’s least developed countries, Albania’s principal city has never made an attempt to join the big league of European cultural capitals. So what is there to see and do if you find yourself in Tirana with time to kill?

Apartment buildings, repainted to add colour to previously grey blocks

Reading about Tirana I soon found that there are no ‘must-see’ sights. I found this highly reassuring, as we were able to wander freely and not concern ourselves with finding a particular statue, monument, mosque or church. The main landmark to find your way around Tirana is the Lana river; possibly the most filthy stretch of river in Europe. Bisecting the city into north and south areas, the banks and the water itself (what there is of it) are strewn with litter. The fact that it appears to be the city’s unofficial landfill site doesn’t stop young boys from dangling their fishing rods in hope into its murky mess.

The Lana river, Tirana

The streets by contrast are relatively clean and pleasant. The ubiquitous cafe culture has arrived in Tirana and you’re never far from a strong coffee or a beer to revive yourself in the scorching heat of the Albanian summer. There are several green spaces in the heart of the city, and these come to life in the cool of the evening when whole families come out to play ball games, to drink coffee with friends and catch up on the gossip.

Clock Tower, Tirana

Good ice cream is plentiful in Tirana and prices are outrageously cheap. $1 will buy you at least three scoops of your choice of gelatto flavours, while in the course of our research we found one lady who served us 8 scoops (between the two of us) for 100 lek ($1). The Italian influence runs deep in the world of Albanian cuisine, with pizza seemingly the national dish on offer in every eatery across the country.

While Albania might rarely make the world news, it does have an A list celebrity of whom it is rightly proud. Mother Theresa was born into an Albanian family, and the fact that it was just across the Macedonian border in Skopje does not detract from their adoration of their favourite daughter. The new international airport is named after her, there are statues of Nene Tereza in many places across the country, and we found her quotes written on banners across the Tirana highways.

Mother Theresa, the national Albanian hero

Tirana is full of people trying any which way to scrape a living. In that way it reminded me a lot of Bucharest in the mid 1990s – full of disorganised activity, and a positive energy that suggests that things are about to change quickly, and for the better. The street markets have to be seen to be believed: shoe sellers have piles of literally thousands of odd shoes scattered across the pavement, and it’s up to you to find a matching pair. The book stalls were equally chaotic.

Shoe seller in Tirana

Albania’s poverty stems from its previous disastrous regime, thanks to which it lived in isolation (a la North Korea) for over 40 years. The legacy of that time is evident across the country and will be the subject of another post soon. One prominent eyesore in the centre of Tirana is the pyramid commissioned by the dictator Envir Hoxha’s daughter. It is now viewed as a curious quirk of the cityscape by local people, and indeed we peered over the shoulders of a group of schoolgirls, sheltering from the midday sun and carefully reproducing the building’s stark features on large white pads with their pencils.

The concrete pyramid, Tirana

Tirana has a large park to the south that we stumbled upon by complete chance. It was not mentioned in our guide book and was even omitted from the usually excellent Lonely Planet city sketch map. The park features a large man made lake with diving boards (now delapidated), a concert stage, woodland walks and a shoreside cafe. It was a perfect spot to park ourselves on a shady bench and watch the Albanian world go by.

The city park, only a few minutes walk from the busy centre

I liked Tirana. It was an easy city to explore and people were unfailingly friendly to us. Few tourists make it to Albania and as a result we found that people did really make an effort to be hospitable; something that you don’t often find in a big city. Another consequence to the lack of tourism exposure is that people were disarmingly honest. Taxi drivers charged the fair price, minibus rides always came out cheaper than expected, and after a couple of days I found that I was offering a handful of coins and notes to people in shops and letting them pick the correct money for our purchases; something I wouldn’t normally dream of doing.

Tirana: sightseeing in a place with no sights is a post from: 501 Places

After a little over two weeks away it’s nice to get back to posting on 501 Places again. Albania, Macedonia, Montenegro, Bosnia and Hercegovina and Croatia provided much for me to ponder and share in the next dozen or so posts; beauty, sadness, the kindness of strangers and the scars of a bitter war are there in abundance in this part of the world and we found plenty of each of these as we dipped briefly into these fascinating countries.

But for now I wanted to start by sharing a few general reflections from our trip. There is probably nothing new here to the experienced traveller, but I find that certain things need a regular exposure for me to remind me about the joys and frustrations of setting off on another trip.

1. It’s great to disconnect for a while. Last time we travelled for a month I had my netbook with me and was online at every place we stayed that had a connection. This time the computer stayed at home and I restricted myself to a one hour session on a hotel PC and a couple of quick mail checks during our 16 days away (being self-employed I thought it was stretching it to avoid seeing my messages for the entire length of the trip). Not having the temptation of logging on was actually a very nice feeling.

2. As a direct consequence of not having a PC, I spent more time enjoying the books that I brought. Two choices made flippantly in Waterstones on the day before we left proved to be very good purchases: Sorrows of the Moon by Iqbal Ahmed (an immigrant’s colourful and intelligent observations of life in London) and the Best of Lonely Planet Travel Writing; a collection of short stories by selected travel writers (some were outstanding, others dire, but even the latter type proved entertaining). I was reminded how much I enjoy a good book and how much I neglect this activity when at home.

3. My Lonely Planet Western Balkans guidebook proved both an invaluable friend and a source of much frustration. On the one hand we found some sensational dining spots and a memorable guesthouse thanks to the book’s recommendations. On the other hand we quickly learned that its advice on transport connections, particularly around Albania, was useless at best, and on more than one occasion would have left us missing our connections had we followed the book’s advice. Incidentally, those mourning the imminent demise of the guide book will be reassured to know that almost everyone we met was carrying either a Lonely Planet or Rough Guide to the region.

4. The spread of English is truly staggering. From little Albanian villages to roadside stops in the Montenegro mountains, it seems that English truly has conquered the world. Of course in the Croatian tourist hotspots the standard of English is often better than in much of the UK, but to hear so many people able to speak the basic minimum in more remote spots (learned mostly from the TV we were repeatedly told) surprised me even now. As a result my faltering attempts at Slavic speak (mixing my Polish with a few local words) was met with English in all but two cases (one woman replied to me in faltering Polish while a ticket seller at a train station decided I was a Russian).

5. Travelling without a plan is relatively risk-free (as long as you have a bit of cash with you). We made a number of journeys to intermediate towns where we didn’t want to find ourselves stuck for the night and hoped that we would find an onward connection. We didn’t come unstuck (although we did have to change our itinerary one time). And a small town that we ended up having to spend a couple of hours in proved to be a very pleasant stop and home to a ruined castle despite its complete absence from the guide book. And the cash? Where the connections did fail us, a taxi to the nearest town didn’t break the bank.

6. People are generally helpful and honest. Of course we need to be careful and wary of potential scams. But in the vast majority of cases if we ask people for help, I have consistently found wherever we are in the world that people will go out of their way to give that help. The wider world is rarely any more dangerous than our own back yard.

There were many stories, adventures and memorable sights along the way that will be covered in my posts in the coming few weeks. But for now it’s enough to enjoy that feeling of getting home safely with another successful trip safely stored in our memories.

A few reflections from a trip in the Balkans is a post from: 501 Places