Winter holidays in Albania 2025

The journey started at 8:00 a.m. with a bus ride from Jyrinkylä to Joensuu. At the time of writing, it’s been about 12 hours since my departure and I’m sitting in a crowded plane on my way to Frankfurt. My legs are bent and my knees are almost in my mouth, because my suitcase had to be stuffed under the seat and on top of it a laptop case and a leather bag. One leg is pressed against the left side of the bag and I try to pull the other leg to the side every time the stewardesses pass by with their trolleys. It never occurs to me to try to get my shoes off during the flight, let alone go to the toilet mid-flight. This is where I sit and this is all I can do. I can almost imagine the sweat dripping between my toes. Fortunately, it’s only a flight of a couple of hours and then a reasonably long walk to the gate of the connecting flight in a hurry.

This time my Albanian adventure has started nicely and I haven’t even fainted from food poisoning like last time. Just in case, I skipped the mozzarella cheese sandwich in the train restaurant car. I’ve been socialised by several acquaintances leaving Joensuu for their winter holidays and escaping by train to Helsinki, just like me. Their destination was to enjoy the cultural tours, as two were going to a Toto concert and one to enjoy the theatre in Gothenburg. An unknown, moderately elderly woman from Imatra sat down next to me and told me she was going to hear Dingo.

The train was on time at Tikkurila station, with a connection to the airport. I got through the wait in five minutes. As I stood there, I remembered how cold it felt in my youth to have a damp wind blowing through the streets of Helsinki at a couple of degrees Celsius. I had time to watch the seemingly long minutes of the timetable display, but they gradually passed and finally the commuter train braked at the station.

At the airport, I learned how to order a meal from the Burger King vending machine and was surprised to find that it came with a beer. As I ate, I chatted with a man from Albania who had just returned from a trip to Germany, and realised how persistent the perceptions of a few decades ago were. The man was clearly surprised to hear me correct his perceptions of the current state of Albania.

I wiped the grease off my burger and started walking to security. As I took off my belt and watch, I wondered how I would explain the gasoline container to the security guard when he asked me to show him the suspicious-looking liquid in the bottle. I couldn’t find the petrol additive on my last trip to Albania, even though I scoured several car parts shops. None of the salesmen had ever heard of such a thing. Perhaps the Albanians do not need it because they do not have a winter season and can ride motorcycles all year round. However, the power bank in my bag was the only item that caught the attention of the officials. I had to dig it out of my belongings, but without further ado I was able to continue my journey.

Finally, the flight landed at Tirana airport just before midnight. The same man who had boarded the bus in Jyrinkylä 16 hours earlier landed with the same eyes. The first thing on my mind was the Albanian phone connection, so I hoped the shops would be open at the airport this late. The first thing I did was rush to the kiosk, where I would have the same connection as usual. There was a salesman at the computer, but he said the shop had just closed. So next to the Vodafone shop. It was open and now I had the opportunity to compare the One subscription I had always had before and now Vodafone. At the time of writing I have been using it for three days and I am not taking another one. One was much more reliable, at least in Vlore.

Next thing I knew, my stomach was telling me I had to have something to eat to keep me going through the night. At this point, I wasn’t sure whether to get a hotel room or try the bus for the first time. Either way, I was hungry. I didn’t choose Mullir, but I wanted a change of pace here too, and I bought a Panini at the mon chér, which turned out to be a good choice.

Hungry, I decided to try the bus service to Vlore, although it seemed a bit exciting: an Albanian bus driver and a dark and congested motorway with no rules. With a full stomach and a relaxed mind, I went in search of the bus station, from where, according to Facebook, there should be one more ride to Vlora.

The information was reliable, because from a distance I could see a sign for Vlora on the windscreen of the minibus. The chubby-bearded, smiling driver jumped out of the car and grabbed my bag, taking it into the boot. Before leaving, as the bus gradually filled up, I had time to talk to a good-humoured Russian woman who also has an apartment in Vlora. On that occasion I received a message from the non-English-speaking taxi driver, whom I had been in contact with via Lufthansa’s slow internet connection. I wanted to confirm in advance a transfer from the bus station in Vlora to my home. The taxi driver was probably using a translator and may have been under the impression that I was already on my way from the airport. At least that’s what I thought, because the bus driver received a call just as he was leaving and then shouted back at us passengers:

-Amerikaano! Taxi!

I didn’t crochet anything because I wasn’t sure of the driver’s intentions and I didn’t want to take a taxi all the way to Vlora. So I decided to sit quietly. The ride was cold! With my front windscreen frosted, I wiped it from one lane to the next. I thought it was best not to know and closed my eyes. Miraculously, I might have dozed off, because soon we were in Vlora and the bus stopped. As I got out of the car, the driver jumped up to hand me my suitcase and gestured to the back of the bus. There the taxi was waiting for me and I got home. So apparently there was no misunderstanding. On leaving, the friendly driver would have wanted to check whether I had made it and would have told me that the taxi was waiting in Vlore. The taxi driver spoke English and we had plenty of time to chat over the few kilometres. Among other things, it turned out that he was on the side of Russia and Trump in the recent war in Ukraine. He argued that we should never have supported Ukraine in the first place because the war has now dragged on and a huge number of people have died. I wanted to get my point across and I did not put forward my own point of view very strongly.

When I opened the front door, a cool, fresh breeze came through my nostrils. I have often wondered why, during the damp and chilly winter, there is no sense of stuffiness or staleness. It is probably because they don’t build thermal insulation in their houses and the air is well circulated between the simple glass and frames. The same phenomenon works in the shower room. After a shower, the window is open and it doesn’t take long for the water to evaporate from the floor, even without underfloor heating. I switch on the electricity and the air heat pumps and slip under the covers with the kerosene. So there was no time to get in the mood with a glass of wine, but the sooner to bed the better.

Vlog of the trip and the second day of the trip

The morning came too quickly and Saturday was a bit half-lit, but I got everything done that I needed to and a few other things. I started the day with breakfast at the Aerial Hotel on the other side of the road, as the fridge was all lights. The rooftop restaurant is a wonderful experience and a pleasure to visit anyway. The waiter told us that some customers regularly come to spend a romantic moment watching the sun fall behind the sea and the sky painted in fabulous colours. At the same time, they order a few beers or wines while watching the spectacle created by the sun together. This time, I settled for a good breakfast in a nice setting. The waiter pleasantly asked me how I would like the eggs prepared and whether I should have chicken or meatballs. That way I know they are made just for me and are fresh. The breakfast at the Aerial Hotel is surprisingly good and varied. Even the desserts are brought to the table on a big plate and there are plenty of them. I always try them all and I think I ate them all last time.

After breakfast I felt tired and went to the couch to see if I could get some sleep. It was a vain hope and pretty soon I got up. I thought I’d start lightly by uncovering my Vespa from the blankets and checking what the cats had liked about my foil lined bench. My wife watches a lot of cat videos and had seen how the cats hated that crinkly and hissy silver foil. On my wife’s advice, I decided to try that trick and it had worked – not a single scratchy paw print and no mention of the droppings I had to scrub off the bench last time.

I pumped the tyres, checked the engine oil level, charged the battery and washed the six months of dust off my windscreen. At the same time, I stomped on a rusty nail sticking out of the concrete floor. I was lucky because the nail only pierced the bottom of my sneakers, or so I thought. However, I was startled enough to find a desiccant and check it out. Everything was fine and I headed back to the basement. I took a hammer and tapped the nail against the ground. As I did, I noticed that there were other nails waiting for me to drill another hole in my sneakers.

The day continued with small chores like washing the balcony. In the winter, air currents from the Sahara blow a layer of red sand onto the floor. Fortunately, it’s easy to clean up and all it takes is a few buckets of water and a spatula to drag the sand into the floor well. I collected the laundry that had been dry for six months and put it in the cupboards as best I could. I suppose there will be a story to tell, because I still haven’t learned how to do the laundry. I did it anyway.

Then I was hungry and went to a nearby pizzeria for a Neapolitan pizza. It was amusing to sit in the restaurant and watch the chickens peeping on the pavement right next to me. On the same day, I went to Vespa in the city centre to look for batteries in a shop and watched horses roaming free in the traffic. This is the Albanian style, according to which cats and dogs have learned the rules of the road better than people with cars. Albanian traffic is notoriously wild, but generally everything goes well. People are polite and will let you into a roundabout if you just push the nose of your car boldly into the path of other cars.

Vlog from day three

It was raining on Sunday morning. I browsed through the weather forecasts and watched the clouds moving across the sky. I had intended to drive to Greece, but it would not be nice to get wet in the cool weather. However, I dared to get on the road and drove to Igoumenitsa in just over three hours. The route, known as the Albanian Riviera, is well worth the experience and seeing. The road winds back and forth along the mountain slopes along the shores of the Adriatic and Ionian Seas, sometimes disappearing inland. Sometimes it is difficult to distinguish between the skyline and the sea. The sense of reality is lost when the clouds hover below the mountain peaks and you don’t really know whether you are going up or down. Around every bend there could be a herd of sheep or goats. There may also be a cow around the bend, often with warning signs. Here and there you could see some wonderful sandy beaches, which at this time of year were of course empty. The cherry trees were just starting to bloom. I hadn’t realised before how much cherries are grown, at least in southern Albania.

Near Saranda, I decided to take a break and stopped at a café, where I had the worst tasting cappuccino of my life. To top it off, it was cold. I don’t understand how a coffee machine can make cold coffee. At the same stop, I booked a hotel room in Igoumenitsa, which turned out to be a good choice. The Selefkos Palace was a little further away from the town itself, with no traffic noise at night and a very clean room. The only way to get hot water was to drain it and wait. A hotel employee recommended a place to eat, which I decided to walk to with Google maps to guide me. It seemed strange that there were no cars on the streets. The world had come to a standstill in Igoumenitsa. Some life, however, as there were local men in the streetside cafés, mending the world and a few young people socialising. Tavern Karakoulak turned out to be a good place to eat, with good service and a tasty chicken salad. I remembered to thank the hotel for the good recommendation.

Vlog from day four

The hotel breakfast was in the penthouse and I can only imagine how nice it would have been to have my morning coffee on the roof terrace in the sunshine. Even now the sun was shining, but the morning air was so sharply cool that I didn’t feel like going out for breakfast. If the coffee I’d had on my drive the day before was cold, now everything was lukewarm. It was a bit dull to eat sausages and fried eggs cold. On this trip to Albania, I had breakfast a couple of times at my neighbouring hotel in Vlora, and there the eggs and sausages were fried just for me. So there is a difference in the breakfasts, but fortunately my mood was lifted by a friendly waiter who immediately came over to ask if I would like a coffee. I assumed that at least it would be hot and it was. The waiter brought another cup of good cappuccino.

I must confess that I had never been to Greece before and I don’t claim to know it any better now. After a night in Greece, I left in the morning to return to Albania. I did, however, stop off on the seafront boulevard in the centre of Igoumenitsa for a walk and a stroll by the sea. The sea was quite different from Vlora and there was hardly any open sea to be seen. The island of Corfu is a breakwater. The landscape reminded me first of the adventures of the Odyssey and the Tentacle Hills. The calmness of the sea was remarkable. In Vlora, the sea is very rarely as calm as it is now in Igoumenitsa.

In the summer, we plan to visit Greece again and stay a little longer. The Meteora Monastery is a must visit, and I’ve seen some amazing pictures of it. From Albania it’s nice to do some jaunts into the surrounding countries, and Italy is also easily accessible by boat.

The return journey from the Greek side was even faster than the way back and I didn’t have to wait at customs either. The scooter started to thirst for a brisker ride on the winding road. My plan was to stop to photograph a stone bridge called Ura e Bratit in the village of Brataj, which dates back to the 16th century. However, the clouds had been captured by the surrounding snow-capped clouds and it started to drip. I turned the throttle on the Vespa and made it to Vlora almost without getting wet. The weather forecast said it should be sunny for the rest of the week and I decided to make another trip in this direction.

When I got home, I sighed for a moment and made some coffee. Soon I was googling for a suitable place to eat, because you can’t stay in one place for too long on holiday. Besides, by the end of the day, I was getting hungry. I googled a well-reviewed restaurant in Kaninë, a historic village above Vlora. Kaninë has a castle built in the 1200s, which was conquered by the Ottomans a couple of hundred years after it was built. Today the castle is in ruins, but it’s still worth a visit.

Near the castle is also a quiet and very idyllic village with old buildings. It offers a magnificent view of the bay of Vlora. On my first visits to Albania, I missed the Ballkoni e Vlores because the ramp leading up to it is very steep. With low ground clearance cars, the front bumper might catch on the ground when turning onto the ramp. Now I sped up the Vespa to the restaurant car park. There I found a stone restaurant with a castle-like atmosphere, vaulted ceilings and stunning views.

The service was great and the house even offered me another beer. I intend to try as many traditional Albanian dishes as possible and now it was time for Pule fshati me pilaf. In English, that would be somewhat loosely translated as chicken on a bed of rice. The rice was really tasty and there was practically a whole chicken spread on top of the rice, except for the head and toes. Some parts I can’t tell you what I ate and some pieces had very little to eat. Perhaps the pieces should have been gnawed with my fingers. The knife and fork didn’t seem to work the best. It was good though.

For dessert I ordered coffee and baklava, but baklava was not available. Instead, I got a generous portion of strawberry asude, which I was told was a dessert from Kaninë. It didn’t look very flattering, but the taste was great. After the meal, it might have been easier to get around by spinning than walking. Somehow, though, I managed to drag myself to Vespa. I don’t remember eating as much as I did for a while.

Vlog from day five

Today is a day of business and office. In Albania, getting things done doesn’t always go like a whirlwind. The English language skills of adults are usually not at a very high level, even in the offices, and you often have to get someone from the back room to help you. Young people usually speak English well, while adults speak Italian in addition to their own language. I have only learned a few phrases in Albanian, but that’s not enough to get things done – it does put a smile on people’s faces.

But first, I’m off for a brisk morning walk, a good three kilometres around the sea, accompanied by birdsong. My goal is to run the whole thing one day. The initial stretch is downhill, which turns into a flat light traffic lane along the seafront. The rest of the way is a steep and seemingly endless uphill, but one day I’ll run it all the way up. Maybe next summer.

Today, my aim would be to obtain a residence permit to register Vespani in Albania. The first office I visited was the Civil Registry Office, which was no ordinary office. The service hatch was surprisingly located at the back of the office building. The clerk opened the window and I handed the documents to the clerk between the bars. However, they were no good and I was instructed to go to a notary to get certified copies of the documents. I found the nearest law office and told them my case. After looking at the papers, the clerk told me to contact the notary who had signed the contract.

I thought for a moment that this was going to be difficult, because the person in question has an office 150 kilometres away in Tirana. However, I did not give up immediately, but went to a neighbouring office and made my case there. Surprisingly, I received the stamped, certified copies without any problems. I hopped back on the Vespa and drove to the bar office. But again I boomeranged and got the papers back because a copy of my passport was missing. I did the same round again at the notary. Shaking his head, he copied my passport and attached a copy to the other documents. Then the documents were acceptable to the civil registrar and he said he would finish the paperwork.

Next, I drove to the Immigration Office at the port, where I waited for an hour for the documents from the Fishing Register Office to be logged into the system. Then I was called in to give my fingerprints and surprisingly everything was in order. In the summer, I was told, I could apply for my residence permit and should be able to register my Vespan on the Albanian shield.

I rewarded the occasion with a cappuccino in a café, where I was not allowed to carry my coffee and pastry to the table myself, but a waiter was called in for that. I then walked the same distance with the waiter to the table. I enjoyed my coffee without hurrying and went for a walk in the beach park. There’s an interesting grassy hill, the stairs leading up to which you can’t get out of breath without climbing. From there you can take good panoramic shots of the beach at Vlora, which is very picturesque.

I decided to take another afternoon drive about 7 km from the centre of Vlora to Kaninë. It is a very charming little village where time seems to have stood still. The houses in the village are on either side of a narrow and winding road 400 metres above the sea. A few people walked along the track and even young people were sitting on the side of the road. I absolutely adored this little community, a unique piece of Albanian history and stunning scenery. It’s a must visit every time I’m in Vlora. There is probably no village in Albania so small that a mosque has not been built there. There is one in Kaninë.

Kaninë is particularly known for its castle ruins (Kalaja ë Kaninë), which are located at the highest point of the village. It offers spectacular views towards Vlora, especially at sunset. The castle has its origins in an ancient settlement dating back to before the beginning of time. Bombing by Italian troops in the First World War and the Vlora War damaged the castle to roughly its present form. In the 1920 Vlora War, Albania drove out the Italian soldiers who had taken control of the port of Vlora.

The ruins of the castle are most easily reached by car, but for the best experience, climb the stone staircase from the village street, which has been patinated over time. Their starting point was unmarked, at least as late as March 2025, so the attentive traveller will find them by chance. Climbing the stairs will give you a good idea of the village of Kaninë. At the same time, you can see the backyards and rock gardens of the residential buildings, which could just as well date from the 1950s or even further back. Admittedly, in these situations you get a bit of a “stalker feeling” and don’t bother to stay very close to look, let alone describe.

Walking around the ruins of the old castle is like stepping back in time centuries. The crumbling stone walls whisper stories of times gone by and each collapsed structure stirs the imagination. You can almost hear the heavy footsteps of ancient soldiers in their armour. It is easy to imagine how battles were once fought, victories celebrated and everyday life lived here.

The atmosphere is both mystical and soothing. The grass in the castle courtyard sways quietly as if nodding to the past, and in the fading evening the shadows of the ruins stretch out like memories that time has not been able to completely erase. It is a place where past and present meet and where imagination takes wing.

Vlog from day six

I had set a few goals for this holiday, and they are almost achieved. I think Albania is best suited to people who like to make their holiday their own, to do things and explore the country, the culture and the people independently. There is already the possibility of all-inclusive holidays in Albania, but they are not for me.

My first goal was to go on a reconnaissance trip to the Greek side. Second, I had to deal with the bureaucracy to get my residence permit and my third goal is about to be achieved today. The sun has risen to a cloudless sky and it is a great day to visit the Ura e Bratit evening.

We have often driven past the information sign of the stone bridge in Brataj and glanced down to the river, hoping that the bridge would at least give us a glimpse of it. Our wife remembers to remind us to look at the road and not away. In Brataj, there’s a good chance of bumping into a large, old tree in the middle of the village between the lanes.

I packed my camera and set off. On the way I stopped at a petrol station to refuel, or in Albania you can’t refuel yourself, the service is always on. No time to take off your helmet, and they’re already asking how much to fill it up. This service practice is a bit embarrassing, because you can’t fill up a Vespa without spilling petrol. No matter how hard I try to instruct the service vendors to be careful, they persist in trying to fill up to the last millilitre, and to charge a flat rate. It’s easy to guess what happens when the vendor looks at the gauge just when you should be looking at the gap in the tank. My attention was drawn to the loud music coming from the petrol station bar while I was filling up. In Albania, of course, the music is loud everywhere, but what made the situation special was the cashier dancing inside, jamming away.

After wiping the gasoline from the tank environment, I continued my journey. Soon a heavily smoking van slowed down in front of me. The back windows of the car were taped with a photograph from Vlora. I wondered what the significance of a concrete circle about ten metres in diameter by the sea was. Sometimes the circle is under water and sometimes it is clearly visible. I have not found out whether there is a tidal phenomenon in the Mediterranean. The explanation for the large circle was clear from the photograph on the tape. It is a helicopter landing site.

I passed the van and admired the mountain scenery and the large flocks of sheep along the way. Along the way I also saw several bridges, some of which were in such a state of disrepair that I would not have dared to test the strength of the bridge. I soon arrived and parked next to the information board about the bridge. I set off in the direction indicated by the signpost with my camera equipment and drinks in my rucksack.

In typical Albanian fashion, there were no other signs anywhere. Apparently, navigation is in the blood of the Albanians. I was unsure of the route several times before I arrived. I was thankful for my choice to wear thick-soled shoes, as with sneakers there would have been a very high risk of sprains when walking on sharp-edged, fist-sized boulders.

A magnificent bridge was finally there and just as I was digging my camera out of my bag, a man with two donkeys appeared on the bridge. I lost the dream moment and only managed to get a shot of the donkey man in the last few metres at the other end of the bridge. It is so true that the best camera is the one that is with you and quickly available. Shooting situations always come unexpectedly and often when you least expect them.

I admired and described the bridge and its surroundings for a couple of hours, wondering how on earth such a rock formation could be built to support a load-bearing structure. The secret is apparently in the sturdy stone arches that span the green waters. Each boulder tells stories of shepherds, merchants and other travellers who have stepped over it, like the man with his donkey just now. The arch of the bridge, linking past and present, reminds us that some structures are not just stone, but also memories and myths.

I think someone could have made some good video clips for their vlogs, as I was crawling down the slope backing up and getting thorns from plants on my fingers. There were enough thorns to pluck even while I was still drinking on the riverbank.

It was quite a climb from the river arm back to Vespa. I have to admit that my calves were sore the next morning. My stomach had felt empty from being outside, so I decided to take the side road from my way home to Amantia. I’d Googled that there was a nice-looking restaurant along the road, so that’s where I headed. The road was gorgeous and I had to stop several times to take pictures of scenery I supposedly hadn’t seen before. Albania is such an amazing country that there is a constant sense and concern for places that are not being photographed.

Shpella Vajzë is a restaurant built into the rock. In the restaurant, it felt as if the rock had grown inside the restaurant. Given the inanimate nature of the rock, the first option is probably more likely. On the menu I found only two main courses, around which you can build a complete and varied meal with side dishes. One main course was 1 kilo of meat and the other was Village chicken. I ordered the chicken option and a Greek salad. While waiting, I had a good time observing the restaurant life. The waiters were young, probably adolescent boys. I have made the same observation elsewhere in Albania. In Albania, in places that look like family restaurants, young people also serve alcoholic drinks.

At the next table was a group of three men, who looked like working men who had seen life. One of them was flipping through a thick stack of banknotes to pay the waiter. One of the men, with no regard for hygiene, handed out a kilo of meat to the group with his own fingers. Occasionally one wonders about the hygiene of Albanian cuisine, but having spent four years travelling in this wonderful country, I can say that I have never had any symptoms of food poisoning. The chicken dinner was once again good and I have learned to eat crispy fried chicken skin.

In the evening, I took an iltaxhiro in Vlora, so that I would not miss anything from this day. Xhiro is a daily event where everyone who can put on something nice for the evening and go for a walk in the city. This is an all-ages event, as at least three generations can be seen outdoors. Some go out to eat in restaurants, some have a few drinks in a pub, and others just walk around town. I find this a very attractive tradition, especially because of the different ages of walkers.

Vlog from day seven

For many people, enjoying the sea is the reason to travel to the Mediterranean. I thought I would dedicate my last day in Vlora to the beach, even though I don’t enjoy sunbathing on the beach. However, the beginning of March is not a good time for beach life in Albania anyway, as the water is reasonably cool and the weather is still quite spring-like after the winter rains.

Apart from visiting Greece, dealing with office work and seeing the Brataj bridge, my last goal for the winter holiday was to see how far the Vlore airport was completed. For this reason, I did not limit myself to exploring the beaches of the urban area of Vlora, but headed a little further afield first, with the idea of driving past the airport construction site.

We have been looking forward to the completion of the Vlora airport with mixed feelings. It would make travelling to the holiday home easier, as there would be no need to drive a couple of hours from Tirana and no need to book hotels there for early or late flights. On the other hand, there are concerns about the role of the airport in the future of the nearby wetlands, which are rich in birdlife. Thirdly, there is the question of whether Vlora will retain its character as an ordinary town or whether it will become a tourist resort like Saranda and Dürres.

I set off in Vespa and hit a fair amount of traffic in the city, but I was already used to the Albanian traffic culture. The scooter is safe to weave between cars because of the good visibility. Clearly, scooters are respected in Albania and motorists seem happy to make way for them in traffic. Motorcyclists rarely wear helmets or other protective equipment in Albania. When you see a motorcyclist wearing a helmet, the scooter is probably registered in another country or the tourist has rented a scooter.

The road to the airport under construction was busy with heavy traffic and the site appeared to be heavily guarded. So instead of waiting to be asked about my intentions, I continued along the Google-directed shortcut to the seafront. I can’t believe that the airport, despite promises, will still be open in the summer of 2025. Of course, you never know how fast the work will progress.

Driving along the fenced runway proved once again that you shouldn’t use Google’s shortest route guide to get anywhere unless you know the route in advance. I discovered that the Vespa is not at its best when dodging fist-sized sharp-edged boulders. However, with perseverance and calmness of mind, I accepted the challenge and with a few curse words, I got on to a slightly better road and then an even better road. Soon I was driving along a small village track with a grid pattern.

The power of the Albanian café culture was also witnessed in this village. No matter how small the village, you are sure to find a café, just like in this village called Poro. There are several words in the Albanian language that have the same spelling as Finnish words. Such homonyms include Ura=bridge, lumi=river, joo=no and Lapa=folk, to name but a few.

My intention was to visit five well-preserved large bunkers on this drive. There are hundreds of thousands of bunkers in Albania, built during the communist dictatorship between 1960 and 1980. Bunkers can be found on beaches, mountains, in towns, yards and fields – practically everywhere you can imagine. On this occasion, the road to the bunkers was blocked because the road was in such bad condition. I didn’t feel like testing my driving skills, so I turned back and headed for the longest sandy beach I knew (Plazhi Delisuf).

I’ve been to this beach once before, for a walk. On that occasion, I took a several kilometre walk along the Vjosa estuary. Now I was content to just enjoy the afternoon sun and the sound of the waves crashing on the sandy beach.

From here I took the quickest route back to the city beaches to watch the sunset. I pulled into the parking lot of the Saint Tropez restaurant, picked up the drone and started walking towards the stunning evening sunset. It was nice to see people in no hurry to get anywhere. Some had clearly extended their Xhiron (evening walk) all the way here. Some were jogging at a leisurely pace. Some were sitting on the terraces of beach bars chatting with friends. A few couples walked hand in hand on the beach sand, watching the sun fall on the horizon and gazing at the sunset.

I wouldn’t have wanted to leave this wonderful moment, but I was getting hungry. I made a mistake that slightly dampened the mood of the last evening. I decided to go into town for a bite to eat. I wanted to see the last rays of the sun before darkness fell, so I stopped at the edge of the parking lot of Bar Pizzeria Sunset. I didn’t have time to take off my helmet when a security guard walked towards me. I assumed he was going to charge me for parking, but he told me to park near the entrance. He explained that it was a better spot and he didn’t even charge me, even though this parking area is usually metered. This proved once again that scooters are a valued and respected driving game in Albania.

It turned out to be a mistake because a children’s party was about to start at Sunset. This meant that while I was eating my pizza, I was surrounded by bustling children, whose carers were apparently not bothered by the noise of the children. I, on the other hand, had my mind on my daily work and I quickly forked my pizza and a couple of beers into my mouth, then left the place for my quiet holiday home.