Going overboard in Albania
An Outing to Korça
As we trundled off on a day trip from Pogradec to Korça, I again noticed just how much of the terrain throughout Albania has been hacked away. I don’t know what you call it. Strip quarrying, perhaps. Anyway, it looks as if a crazy barber had been on the rampage with a giant razor, slicing away willy nilly. I can only imagine that this occurred during the bunkerisation period when ridiculous quantities of concrete were being produced. I mean, it had to come from somewhere. The poor landscape still bears the scars today.
While we were wandering around Korça, a friendly young guy, in typical Albanian fashion, asked the Oldies if he could help them with anything. As he explained the whereabouts of a few landmarks, he was clearly anxious to impress on them that Korça is the most beautiful city in Albania. He certainly was proud of his town and, to be fair, he had a lot to be proud about. This city is a little gem, and clean and well-kept into the bargain.
The old bazaar in the centre of town has been renovated recently and is a busy, buzzing place, with dozens of cool cafés and restaurants and quaint boutiques. I thought I’d never manage to drag the Oldies away from there!
The Iljaz Bej Mirahori mosque, dating from the 15th century, has also been recently renovated and I its history made fascinating reading. It was built using an unusual building technique involving lead cubes. It was thanks to this that it survived a powerful earthquake in 1960, although the minaret and clock tower were destroyed. The text went on to explain that the mosque also survived the ‘earthquake’ of the communist era. During the war on religions it was used as a warehouse and therefore escaped demolition.
Not all churches in Korça survived the ‘communist earthquake’, unfortunately. The impressive Cathedral of the Resurrection was built in 1992 on the foundations of an Orthodox church, one of the many destroyed during the Hoxha era. I’ve come across quite a few bizarre humans in my time, but that Hoxha chap, building bunkers and demolishing churches … He certainly takes the biscuit!
To my surprise, after traipsing all around town the Oldies still had enough energy to alight the Red Tower. Just about. It took them forever to get up those stairs, stopping after every flight to admire the photography on display on the landings. I thought the photos weren’t too bad, but they left the Oldies completely breathless! When we finally made it to the top, that views of Korça and the surrounding countryside were well worth enduring the vertical photo gallery en route.
Driving through the outskirts of the city, I again witnessed the extremes of rich and poor. There appeared to be just two types of vehicles on the road: Mercedes Benz and horse and cart. For a long stretch, the only cars I saw that were not Mercedes all had foreign registration plates. At one point, I had to blink hard when I saw what I thought was a walking haystack. It turned out to be a huge pile of hay on the back of a tiny donkey, the poor little mite!
Refuelling, Albanian style
Further out of town, the Oldies decided to take the road up the mountains towards Dardha and happened upon an Albanian ski resort, Ski Pista Bigell. There was nothing big about it and it had the distinct feel of a D.I.Y. ski resort, with its ancient drag lift, home-made children’s magic carpet and goats sheltering from the sun in the shade of the rusty snow grooming equipment.
When the Oldies got out of the car they were met by the very friendly owner/manager. He appeared delighted to have visitors and was anxious to show the Oldies around. In spite of the lack of a common language, he managed to convey the fact that his family also run a cake shop in Korça. From what I can make out this banner reads something along the lines of ‘Tasho Confectioners / Traditional Products … Supporting mountain tourism’. Thank goodness someone is.
He proudly explained that the drag lift was a gift from the French ski resort, Courchevel, and that the old Hoxha bunkers built into the hillside are nowadays used for storing equipment. And goats. I’m no skigull, of course, but even I can tell it’s not exactly Kitzbühel or St. Moritz. Then again, I’m quite sure you don’t get away in Kitzbühel or St. Moritz with €6 for a day’s ski pass.
There was no skiing for us that day, thank goodness, but later, back at Lake Ohrid, His Lordship got a chance to try out a new sport. Our friendly German-Bulgarian campsite neighbours let him have a go on their paddleboard. Her Ladyship was invited to try it too but she declined, of course. Sure I could have told them that they had as much chance of getting her onto that board as into a rocket going to the moon.
His Lordship’s antics on the Ohrid lake, though, was the best entertainment I’ve had in a long time. How he negotiated those titanic ripples on the mirror-like surface of the lake was nigh on heroic. I nearly broke my beak laughing.
One thing I have to say about Himself: he certainly knows how to make a splash!
