Don't Skip Shkodёr, Albania
Learning about Albania's communist past, biking to Rozafa Castle, and cooking traditional Albanian food.
November 13th-15th, 2022
After stepping off the bus from Kotor, Montenegro, right in the center of a roundabout in Shkodёr, Albania, I was surprised by how different the city looked from anything I had seen before. In some places, it felt as though I had stepped back in time a couple of decades. It’s hard to put into words, but things felt a little less modern and slightly more chaotic– but in a good way. It felt less westernized which provided a modest but much-welcomed culture shock.
There are fruit stands everywhere, herds of people biking on the streets, and a surplus of small mom-and-pop clothing and shoe stores as well as an excessive amount of wedding dress shops. A trace of communism still lingers heavily in the city due to the communist-era style buildings and abandoned bunkers scattered across rural landscapes and even in the cities. Stray dogs roam the streets in packs and trash clutters the sides of roads and alleyways as a result of a lack of adequate infrastructure to manage it.
Shkodёr isn’t a very large city as it only has a population of about 200,000 people but it doesn’t feel small either. Just outside the rather bustling city are spread-out rural-suburban crossover neighborhoods. Our hostel was only about a 10-minute taxi ride from the city center but felt like it wasn’t anywhere near the city we had just briefly wandered through. For context, this hostel/guesthouse has its own farm, vineyard, and animals.
We arrived at the guesthouse in the dark around 5 pm or so. The guesthouse owner, Florian, was not around yet so we were shown to the guesthouse by his mother who only spoke Albanian. She tried to make us feel as comfortable as possible and then hurried off to start cooking dinner.
By this point, it had started to get a bit colder after sundown, probably partially on account of being farther from the sea, but also because of the change in seasons. Our room didn’t have any heat so we decided that it would be best to bundle up in our bunk beds while we waited for dinner time.
About an hour after arriving, another traveler staying at the guesthouse returned from his day of exploring the city and nearby castle. We spent some time chatting before Florian, the guesthouse owner, returned home and introduced himself.
As we entered the main house, where Florian and his parents have lived since the communist era of Albania, we stepped into a small kitchenette conjoined with a living room. Here, his parents watched what appeared to be the Albanian equivalent of an MTV-style show with a more traditional twist whilst we sat down at the table crowded with plates of food. Apparently, during the high tourism season when the weather is a bit warmer and the daylight lingers longer, guests enjoy their food outside in the courtyard.
Florian’s mother had cooked us a traditional spread of soup, carp caught from Lake Shkodёr, grilled eggplant and zucchini, pickled vegetables, olives from their very own olive tree, a garden salad, homemade bread, and cow cheese they had gotten from another farmer nearby. Full disclosure: There are very few kinds of cheese that I will turn my nose to, but I had a hard time eating this one. But alas, I tried it for the culture and I didn’t want to waste it after it was kindly offered to me.
To finish off strong, we were offered two different types of wine that Florian’s family makes from the grapes in their vineyard. One of which was the sweetest and most flavorful wine I have ever had… It seriously tasted almost like fancy grape juice. But let me tell you, it was definitely not just juice.
This wine was served to us straight out of 1-liter plastic soda bottles that they store the wine in once it’s been properly aged. Florian swears that the best wine he’s ever had comes out of bottles just like those and that he won’t even buy any if it isn’t sold like that. And, yes, we asked—He has, in fact, purchased it in a store… But only after directly asking the shopkeeper who responded by hesitantly reaching behind the counter to reveal the real good stuff.
We were apparently the last guests of the season and the first to actually dine in their family kitchen with them, so I felt very honored and welcomed as part of their family. After a thorough wine tasting, we began exchanging stories of traveling in Europe and learned about what it was like to live in Communist Albania. As it was only me, Caroline, and the other traveler sharing the guest house with us, we had more than enough opportunities to ask all the questions we wanted. And trust me, I had a lot of them.
In the morning, we were treated to a traditional Albanian breakfast consisting of fried eggs, cucumber, tomatoes, homemade bread, and fig jam. Following breakfast, we had the opportunity to tour their farm. We learned about their various crops and farming practices—which I found extremely interesting after working on a regenerative agriculture farm and taking a course to become a certified soil advocate. I love seeing these principles practiced across the world. This was hands down one of my favorite parts about staying at this guesthouse.
At the end of the tour, we were able to try some of their grapes, pomegranates, and persimmons all right from the trees. Caroline and I became a little bit too obsessed with persimmons after that…
Later that morning, Florian laid out a map of Shkodёr on the table and walked us through all the must-see attractions. He brought out two bicycles that we could use to get into the city and we were off. In just a short 15-minute bike ride, we biked through the condensed pasture-lined streets, passing several bikers and just a few cars along the way.
Once we entered the city, we were absolutely shocked at how many bikers were on the streets. Cars drove slowly and conscientiously, constantly aware of all the cyclists navigating the hectic traffic. I felt safer biking in Shkodёr than I have in Madison, a city known for being biker-friendly, on account of the sheer number of cyclists on the streets and the overt attentiveness exhibited by the drivers.
We parked our bikes in the middle of a pedestrian street after being told by Florian that we didn’t need to lock them up but could instead ask a waiter at a nearby cafe to keep an eye on them for us. Caroline and I were a little hesitant at first, but we trusted the owner of the bikes to know what was best. It also probably helped that these bikes were not the nicest bikes—but they sure were dependable.
Unfortunately, we soon discovered that one of the places we were most excited to visit, the Site of Witness and Memory, was under construction. This museum is centered around communism and human rights, memorializing the traumatic events suffered by the Albanian people during the communist regime that was dissolved in 1991.
It is hard to grasp that Albania was under such a harsh communist dictatorship up until just 30 years ago. According to Florian, some believe that Albanians lived under stricter and more cruel conditions than North Korea does today. But, given the pronounced isolation of communist nations, it seems like this would be very hard to distinguish.
Since the museum was closed, we grabbed our bikes and headed to Rozafa Castle on the outskirts of Shkodёr. After about 20 minutes of biking and another 20 minutes of walking our bikes up a very steep hill, we made it to the bumpy stone path that spirals up to the castle entrance. We left the bikes leaning up against a tree and made our way up.
From the top of the castle, you are able to see a portion of Lake Shkodёr, the city of Shkodёr in its entirety, and the surrounding picturesque farmland. Inside the 4,000-year-old castle walls, you can find ruins of a 13th-century Venetian-style Catholic church, a well-preserved spiral staircase leading underground, and even a crawl space with a ladder that looked a little too rickety to find out where it went.
Once we had sufficiently explored all that the castle had to offer, we decided to get a snack of grilled vegetables, cheese, and bread from a little cafe inside the walls. A stray cat soon became very interested in our food and the sun was starting the set, so we decided to quickly finish up and head back to the guesthouse.
On our ride back, we decided to take a different route with fewer hills that led us through more of the countryside. We rode past a very impoverished area that really struck me. People had built homes out of scrap sheet metal and other repurposed items. This little “neighborhood” of shacks was surrounded by heaping piles of garbage. Seeing this was a strong reality check and a good reminder to appreciate the infrastructure we are privileged to have in America.
Once we got back to the guesthouse, Florian’s parents were in the courtyard sitting on stools next to a fire pit with a bucket of charred unidentifiable nuts. They invited us to sit with them and showed us how to peel off the shell of what we soon realized were chestnuts. Florian’s mother kept handing us more and more chestnuts until we were sufficiently stuffed and our hands were thoroughly coated in soot.
We then quickly cleaned ourselves up for our Albanian cooking class led by Florian’s sister. With Florian translating, we learned how to make veggie kebabs and then proceeded to clumsily roll out thin sheets of homemade phyllo dough for spinach and cheese burek. Florian’s sister made every move look effortless.
While enjoying the delicious food we helped make, Caroline and I learned even more about communism and Albanian history. We were so fortunate to have this intimate and informative experience. I couldn’t have been happier with choosing to stay at this guesthouse instead of a typical hostel or Airbnb. We likely wouldn’t have gotten such a genuine cultural experience any other way and it was the perfect introduction to Albanian life and its complex history. While some travelers choose to skip visiting Shkodёr and go straight to Tirana (the capital city), I would highly recommend stopping here if you are interested in Albanian culture and life in an underrated, not-so-touristy city.