By Robert P. Walzer
Once a year, a pal and I plan a bike trip -- a gambit that both scratches our itch for cycling adventure and lets us explore a new corner of the globe at ground level. Committed bon vivants, we've managed to hit some of the usual suspects like France and Spain, and some less-usual ones, like Ethiopia. Still, when my friend suggested this year's destination -- Albania -- my eyebrows shot up.
I recovered quickly. As my research revealed, Albania, like Italy and France, has sky-piercing Alpine mountains, a Riviera with clear turquoise waters, a rich food culture, ancient history and medieval villages. What it lacks: the tens of millions of tourists and high prices of its western European counterparts.
No wonder, then, that the former Ottoman province has been earning buzz among savvy travelers -- first Europeans, and now, a growing trickle of Americans. Albania joined NATO in 2009 and has since become a European Union candidate. A new international airport and several modern hotels will open next year, and a luxury island resort is being planned by none other than America's once-and-future first-son-in-law, Jared Kushner. But three decades after the fall of its repressive Communist dictatorship, this forested Balkan nation still feels refreshingly undiscovered.
When my friend and I arrived in the capital, Tirana, in late September, the alpine air was still warm. To manage our journey, we'd hired a local cycling guide, a Black-American expat who, in a bid to escape American politics and racism, had relocated to Albania as a digital nomad three years ago. During a 5-day route through the beachside towns of Vlora, Himarë, Sarandë and Ksamil, and the fortress town of Gjirokaster, we pedaled a mountainous, serpentine road surrounded by stands of pine, ash and fir. At various points, the stunning views of the Ionian and Adriatic Seas called to mind both the U.S. Pacific Coast Highway and Italy's Amalfi Coast. We encountered few humans, aside from a group of sky-borne paragliders and roadside vendors selling local brandy and honey. We did pass more than our share of ambling donkeys and dozing dogs.
Along the way we fortified ourselves on snacks like borek, a flaky cheese-filled pastry that's a close cousin to Greece's spanakopita. Also figuring prominently in our diet were fish, pasta and pizza -- all reflections of Albania's close cultural ties to Italy, its neighbor across the Adriatic. Throughout the country, we found the bill for a good dinner with wine routinely ran less than $20, and a stay at a four-star hotel, under $100.
On one drizzly day, we visited the strategically important Porto Palermo Castle -- built by Albania's legendary 19th-century ruler Ali Pasha on a handsome bay to solidify his control over the region. The impressive citadel, which was a Soviet submarine base during Albania's Communist era, isn't on the gargantuan scale of Carcassonne in southern France. But it doesn't have that destination's crowds or queues either.
In the seaside village of Vlora, where Albania declared independence in 1912, we were the only visitors to the National Museum of Independence in a small building where the first government ruled. Surrounded by images of Albania's mustachioed founding fathers, some with flat-topped fez-type hats, we took in an informative tour from a local guide -- all included in the $3 entrance fee.
We did run into one crowd -- at Gjirokaster, a mountainous Unesco World Heritage site dramatically capped by a Byzantine-era citadel. Visitors streamed into the 1,000-year-old cobblestoned village with an old-world charm similar to a Siena or a Bruges. Its center is punctuated, not by a cathedral, but by a towering minaret of the city's Great Mosque, set amid a colorful bazaar.
Gjirokaster's famed castle proved quieter, perhaps because the curious must climb 1,100 feet to reach its top. But it was worth the trek, especially its fascinating museum recounting Albania's colorful military past. (Artifacts inside include a 1950s-era U.S. Air Force fighter that Albania says it captured during an incursion.)
On the outdoor patio of the Seaside Hotel in Vlora we struck up a conversation with the friendly owner, Agron Agalliu. A dose of the warm hospitality that Albanians are known for shone through as he served us complimentary glasses of homemade raki and regaled us with a detailed explanation of how the fiery fermented spirit was made.
Back in Tirana, we met up with Harel Kopelman, an Israeli-American resident who co-founded a cultural center called Albanian Night, in one of the capital's ubiquitous coffee bars. America is popular in Albania, he said, due in part to President Wilson's advocacy for Albanian independence after World War I and President Clinton's intervention in the war in Kosovo, which is populated by ethnic Albanians. "Albania is like the 51st state," he said. "People here love Americans." Speaking for myself, I can now say the feeling is entirely mutual.
The Lowdown / Entry-level Albania
Getting There: Though there are currently no nonstop U.S. flights to Albania, Tirana can be reached via many popular European cities including London, Paris and Rome. Heading to Albania's Riviera? Book a flight to Corfu, Greece, and take an easy hourlong ferry to Sarandë.
Staying There: The Xheko Imperial Luxury Hotel in Tirana's buzzy, embassy-filled Biloku neighborhood has a popular rooftop bar and restaurant with panoramic views of the city and surrounding mountains (from about $300). In the Riviera town of Vlora, the Priam Hotel Luxury Resort is a chic beachfront option (from $250 in low season and $700 in summer).
Eating There: In Tirana, Sofra E Ariut (Bear's Table), serves hearty traditional Albanian fare in a wooden chalet set in a verdant park. After something a bit more modern? Salt Tirana offers a diverse, international seafood-focused menu of sushi, ceviche and more.
(END) Dow Jones Newswires
November 22, 2024 11:00 ET (16:00 GMT)
Copyright (c) 2024 Dow Jones & Company, Inc.
Comments