Leben in Albanien

Living in Albania – these words elate us. Once again we have found a second home (one of so many). From the campsite in Gjirokastër, we chug towards Përmët - not before stocking up on good bread and local treats at the bakery - a valley east of the Drino Valley in which Gjirokastër is located.

Albturist Eco-Camping

The small town of Përmët means nothing to us. It is not the reason why we want to visit this area. I discovered a campsite that sounds interesting. On park4night they post:

"Simple campsite with basic sanitary facilities. Great location between vineyards just outside Përmët. Mini-restaurant with lovingly prepared food by the owner Dona. Her husband Roberti also offers rafting tours."

The nice comments and almost exclusively 5-star ratings and matching pictures make us curious.

When we arrive, we are immediately greeted by Dona. Of course we can stay, but she is sorry that their facilities are only "basic", and it is winter season after all and since they have no electricity, the solar shower only barely warms up, she apologizes.

We know right away that we're going to like it here. The animals, because of which Dona's campsite does not always score positively in the comments of the camping app, contribute to the cozy farm feeling. Cats, dogs, a horse, and the neighbor's sheep and goats, which are part of the picture throughout Albania, enliven the place.

On the opposite side of the unfrequented country road, the Vjosë, one of the last wild rivers in Europe, makes its way through the valley. Roberti tells me that he and the Vjosë belong together. Growing up in Përmët, they have known each other all his life. He has been offering outdoor activities such as river rafting for several years to share his love of the Vjosë with visitors to the valley. But he is also fond of the mountains. So he leads canyoning tours and, on request, hikes through the surrounding mountains. Every year he climbs a different peak in his country with the Albanian Alpine Club.

I look up at the currently snow-covered ridges of the mountains around me. Yes, that sounds like a plan. Tomorrow the weather is still good, we should take advantage of that. We don't have to push it to the limit right away. The snow doesn't interest me at the moment, but the mountain villages and the view from up there do.

The Thermal Springs

We don't want to let the rest of this day pass idly. Soon after our arrival at the campsite, we grab the bikes and ride to the hot springs for which Përmët is known; before it gets dark again at 5 o'clock.

It is warm, there is a light breeze. The sun is shining and the Vjosë valley is magnificent. Rocky hills, caves, green pine forests, behind them the snowy mountains. Fantastic! A little bit like in Canada or in the USA.

When we arrive at the springs, they are occupied by a few locals, probably from Përmët. Over a picturesque Ottoman bridge, we reach the pool. Although the hot springs are only lukewarm, Seraina joins the other people bathing. I prefer to just watch and take a few photos of the beautiful area.

Unfortunately, the litter left by visitors is conspicuous here as well. There are big buckets ready, but if no one empties them and the stray dogs also do their best, the result just doesn't look nice.

Hiking in Përmët

The next day we start hiking early as planned. First, we have to go to the bridge one kilometer upstream. Dona asked us not to use the suspension bridge at the level of the campsite. Later we see why. There is not much more left of this bridge than a few wire ropes covered with holey boards. Eventually, it will disintegrate into its components and the river will take care of the rest.

So we cross the old, still trustworthy steel bridge and up to the village Leshnicë. At the foot of the village, there is an old church with a cemetery, behind it a few houses on the slope. We see an elderly couple working in the garden. Immediately the woman approaches us. With our entire Albanian arsenal, we reply. I interpret our conversation as follows:

"Ah, tourists. Where are you from?"

„We're from Zvicra.“

"More and more tourists are coming to this area. Where are you going? Are you going to the village of Leusë?"

"Yes, we are. Is it that way?"

"That's right, all the way up the path. You'll find it. Otherwise, you can ask."

"Thank you very much, goodbye."

"Goodbye, and have a good time!"

Well, I am bluffing a little bit there. But we roughly understood the context. Or at least guessed it.

We come out on top of a green knoll where horses and sheep are grazing. In the distance a few men are working on a shelter. From afar they call and greet. And look over, frowning. Wondering what kind of people we are. To say something, I tell them "Leusë?" and point questioningly in the direction of a gravel road. They seem to understand, nod and point in the same direction. "Ok, faleminderit!"

What a view into the valley.

We hike along a rocky, green path until it ends at a simple wire gate.

"Should we just keep walking?", I ask Seraina, "there's a farm over there." "I don't know, we'd better go around."

Wise decision. For the dogs have already smelled us and come barking. We move away a little and walk along the fence with some distance. The dogs have hardly calmed down, the piglets come running. And then the farmer's wife sees us and weaves her hands at us.

When I already think that she wants to send us to the devil, she comes to meet us and accompanies us for a full ten minutes through the bush, so that we can find our way again. Okay, I must have misunderstood her somewhat harsh manner. Meanwhile, she talks to us incessantly. In between, I think I understand something like: " Well, why don't you speak better Albanian, then we could have a decent conversation!

From here the path leads downhill. We can make out white-red-white hiking markings on this side of the hill. In Leusë, a simple village built of stone, we can see signs of tourist development.

They are working on a large building, a hostel or restaurant, and at the entrance of the village, there is the picturesque church of Santa Maria, in front of which a large information sign points out its architectural style.

Somewhere we miss the path to the next mountain village, Lipë, therefore a little later we are walking through Përmët down by the river. From there it is only three kilometers along the road and across the field past shepherds and their flocks back to camp.

Living in Albania

A day later, we get to work and finally install the solar panel that we have been carrying around unused for weeks. The following days pass leisurely. The weather is also to blame. It is winterly cold, cloudy and rainy.

We spend most evenings with Dona and Roberti in their small lounge/bar/restaurant/reception. There is their only source of heating, an old stove.

Here we drink Raki and Albanian mountain tea, here we talk about life in Albania, their plans for the future, that everything in Albania takes a little longer, that much corruption hinders progress, that the garbage disposal does not work as it should. We learn and improve our Albanian (Seraina's mother points out on the phone that they could use Albanian translators at school, wouldn't that be something for us?) and think about how it would be to set up our southern European base here with Dona and Roberti.

A (part-time) life in Albania? Here, with these dear people, whom we have long since closed in our hearts? With the oh-so-cute cats Miez and Maunz, who stay with us in the camper (they are soooo cute!), that I will miss as soon as we are gone?

Yes, we could imagine that. There would be enough work in the camp. The wild nature leaves nothing to be desired. With Greece just around the corner. A simple life on the "farm".

We probably like Albania so much because it is a strange mixture of so many places in the world that we have traveled to. Often the simple life here reminds us of Colombia, the nature is wild like the one I know from North America or Nepal. And at the same time, we are in an open country inhabited by curious, proud people, a country with a bright future that lies on the threshold of Europe, Arabia, and Asia.

When we leave after a week, the farewell is emotional. We promise Dona that we will be back. And that we will send all our loved ones to camp and stay, river raft and hike, work and play with them.

So, here's where you'll find them:

Albturist Eco-Camping Përmët & Outdoor Sports Center

https://www.exploringpermet.com/

+355699812458

699J+Q7 Lëshicë, Albania

If you have questions, feel free to contact us!

As for the zeros

An anecdote about the LEK

by Seraina

We stand in front of the "cheese and more"-store and ring the bell. The saleswoman and acquaintance of Roberti hurries down the stairs from her apartment to the store. She opens the door for us and politely invites us in. You can buy good cheese from her, says Roberti. The house is somewhat away from the center of Permet. As a layperson, you walk past it and do not discover the delicacies that are hiding here.

"White or yellow?" is the owner's question. We don't speak Albanian, but we understand. "Bardhe" means white. And since the cheeses are divided into white, sheep and goat, and yellow, cow, it is clear. Whereas white cheese, in our country the feta, mostly comes from sheep. Pure goat cheese is rare and expensive because the same amount of milk from the goat gives only 1/4 cheese compared to the sheep. Mostly, so-called goat cheese is thus a mixture of sheep and goat milk.
We take from both. The cow cheese comes close to a Parmiggiano not aged long.

She weighs the cheese and scribbles the prices on a piece of paper. "Something's not right," I think to myself. But I'm not that familiar with the currency yet, I still have to convert everything in my head. 120 Lek are 1 Swiss franc. And here she writes about 4000 Lek for two pieces of cheese, max. 10 Swiss francs in Switzerland. Simon also hesitates, raises his wallet insecurely, incredulous about the price and the calm behavior of our friend Roberti. Over 35 francs for the cheese? I look at Roberti scrutinizingly before opening my mouth to clarify the misunderstanding. But he beats me to it. He casually points to the 500 lek note. I see. Didn't we just talk about the 0's yesterday?

The old currency is still used for calculations. A zero fell away in the new one. What used to be 1000 is now 100, but people talk about 1000 when they mean 100. They write down 1000 when it costs 100. "People here still calculate in the old currency. That's normal," Juliano, a young restaurant owner in Gjirokaster, explained to us last week.

"I'm often confused, too. I have to ask. Is the price quoted in the old or the new currency?" laughs Dona, our hostess at the campsite.

We leave Albania for the moment and enter another world. One that we have set as our goal for this trip and are very much looking forward to. Happy people, dark blue sea, good food, stories, myths, and many, many islands. That's right, Russia!