From our research prior to arriving in Albania it seems that most tourists follow the same route around the country, visiting the mountains of the North - Shkodra, Theth, Berat, Gjirokaster, Butrint and then whatever town on the Albanian riviera they fancy. Our attempts to add the North onto our route had fallen through, but we sheeped well, by deciding to go South to Berat after Tirana. I have a slight allergic reaction to the idea of doing the touristy thing, but hey, they're touristy for a reason.
Berat is 43 miles down south and took a couple of hours to get there by bus from Tirana - one thing we were amazed by, was the fact that every bus journey we took was half an hour shorter than predicted - which didn't mean that we always arrived at our destination half an hour early but that's another story. In fact I might just give a little bus lesson here, for anyone who is interested in bussing it around Albania. Firstly, do not believe in the timetables that we had been advised to follow on the Girafa autobus website. The information there does not appear to have any connection to real life at all, as we found to the detriment of our wallet. The timetables at the stations themselves appear to have more clear information, or you ask around other people. Also, you can just turn up at a bus station, look for a bus that has the name of your destination on it, and, if there is a seat available, you hop on that. If there is not a seat available your bus driver might stop on route to buy one, setting it up in the aisle. The buses are clean, mostly air conditioned and fairly comfortable - if you are lucky enough to get a seat, as we were - and very cheap - just four eurosish, to travel fifty miles or so.
Berat is sometimes called the City of a Thousand Windows for the stone houses that are built, one on top of another up the sides of the mountains, either side of the Osum river, a wide blue ribbon that winds between stony shores.
Looking down on the town is the famous castle - the only castle in Albania still inhabited - and unfortunately the only way to get up there is to walk/climb. As we live in one of the flattest parts of England, I was horrified to see the angle and length of the slope up to the top, but in the end, it wasn't too bad, especially as we were entertained by various stray cats and dogs on the way up. It's hard to describe the views from the top of the hill; standing on the ancient stone walls of the castle - which I'm sure will be banned in a few years - the views of the mountains are breathtaking, and it's too early in the morning for me to find words that aren't cliched, so will just do a big fat cop out and add some pictures instead.
Walking around the Castle, gazing out at the views, or following a twisting alleyway between the crunchy stone houses, your jaw soon aches from being dropped. Everywhere are the views of the mountains and the glittering of Berat below, the aquamarine river winding through the valley. There are churches - Byzantine buildings with curved, red tiled roofs, decorated inside with iconographic pictures of saints and angels, painted by long dead monks; the crumbling remains of minarets reaching for the sky next to vine bedecked restaurants selling aperol spritz; vast cedar (?) trees, shushing like a stormy ocean in the wind; tiny tourist grottoes built into the castle walls and tables laid out with cups of nuts and berries, cones of dates and plums. But this is a UNESCO sight and, at least for now, the tourist shops are minimal and don't really detract from the overall beauty - and though most of the houses are restaurants and hotels now, the castle still has an air of authenticity. I just hope it remains so.
It has to be said, however, that I am very grateful that we didn't visit Albania when the kids were little - to be honest, I had to walk alone a lot of the time to stop myself squawking at Rupert and Lydia "Keep away from the edge!" every five seconds. I would be very surprised if they don't barricade half the walls off in the near future, which will be a pity, but will also save many parents from heart attacks.
It took about an hour and a half to walk around the castle and then it was back down the hill - on a path made from slippery stones, actually worse than going up - and into town to take in the views of the houses, their windows lit to gold by the setting sun and the glinting river. Of course, I'm talking about the old town here. One of the heart breaking things about the communistic heritage of Albania is the fact that the stunning beauty of the valleys is so often crusted over with the crumbling, barnacles of grey tower blocks. But you can't have everything I suppose.
If left to ourselves, Rupert and I may have done a tour of the local wineries the next day, but Lydia made us sign up for a canyon tour instead. This consisted of being driven for an hour, by a driver who drove with the little finger of his right hand, whilst talking on the phone and overtaking everyone he could, up and down zig zagging mountain roads next to sheer drops. I'm not a good back seat driver at the best of times - just ask Rupert - but this was hard even for him. Luckily, we were distracted by the views - the towering of mountains on all sides, covered in olive trees and vineyards, the occasional old man astride a plodding donkey, a shepherd leading his goats along the road - and the amazing soundtrack, which included songs such as Barbie Girl and The Vengabus.
First stop was a waterfall falling from the mountainside into a deep pool with water so cold that one's feet ached the second they touched the surface. Lydia and I both forced ourselves to take a dip - I thought I would regret it if I didn't, whereas Rupert thought he might regret dying rather more, (wuss) which is why he didn't join us. It was a beautiful waterfall, reminding me very much of places we visited in the Sunshine hinterland in Australia, but it was also very busy, with so many tourists standing around, wishing the water was warmer, that it was difficult to find a place to change. It was a relief not to stay there long, not least because a group of Australian boys were dive bombing into the pool from a height of about four metres and the guide assured me that there was no way an ambulance could get up there.
We then went onto the Ousumi canyon and this, ladies and gentlemen, was definitely worth every second. For anyone who has been to the Sumerian gorge, it was similar, but with water - strangely blue, thick water running along the bottom of the canyon, between tree lined, wave like walls of rock. Water shoes give a very thin layer of protection betwixt the pebbles underfoot, so it was hard going and you have to keep reminding yourself to look up and drink in the beauty of the red-grey-blue-green, undulating rock walls around you. Mind you, the pebbles underfoot were a mix of grey and green and orange and pink, ringed with white quartz and rounded by the water and well worth looking at! We had to cross the river several times and at others to swim - luckily it wasn't as cold as the waterfall pool - and we came across only a couple of other people, walking the other way. For the most part our group of ten could have been the only people on the planet - the only other living creatures on the planet, for there was nary another creature to be seen or heard, not even any birds, but a deep echoing quiet that was a presence unto itself, instilling a calm that did not even break at the repeated efforts of the aforementioned Australian boys trying to skim stones bigger than their heads. The walk ended at the site of a deep pool where there was, of course, another jumping spot for the boys and Lydia joined them, but I won't tell you about that or she will kill me....instead I will leave you with these photos...
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