In the Lands of Orange Blossoms and Rakia

It only takes an hour to leave a familiar Italy to enter a region we know nothing about in our own backyard. It is a challenge to write about a place you feel to have only gotten a glimpse of. I am embarrassed to admit that I had previously assigned Croatia, Montenegro and Albania to the Eastern Europe folder – to be revisited later. We only saw a fraction of these countries in the short time that we spent there, but the impact that it left on us was proportionately bigger.

We both remember reading about and seeing images on TV of the war during the break up of Yugoslavia, yet somehow we know so little of what really happened before, during and after. It was difficult for us to walk through the picture perfect alleyways of Dubrovnik or Kotor without reflecting upon the fact that it all happened so recently, only 20 years ago.

We are definitely leaving this region with more questions than we came with, but that is also one of the best parts of travelling, it fires up a curiosity about a place in the world which you had never really considered much before. Travelling by land gave us the time to see gradual transformations as we moved south east through the countries. Travelling in spring gave us the gift of orange blossoms.

A foreign fragrance to me, my olfactory memory of this region will always be tied to this intoxicating scent. Originally thinking it was jasmine, we realized it was originating from trees heavy with tiny white flowers and large oranges. From Pile Gate in Dubrovnik to small pebbled alleyways in Berat, Albania, we were greeted by these luscious trees.

Of the three countries we visited, Croatia is still more familiar to me, style, taste and culture are mostly recognizable and the coastal landscape is stunning though distinctly European. The fact that Dubrovnik is gorgeous comes as no surprise. The Old Town is perfectly preserved, carefully rebuilt after the war and the 2 km long old walls of the town provide a bird’s eye view of the terracotta rooftops and still-inhabited houses. Its location cannot be beat, a relatively big town with a top notch beach right outside its city walls is not something we come across everyday, but if you are willing to investigate even further, you will not be disappointed. There is a walk leading from the old walls eastwards towards the old Belvedere hotel. At first it seems like a mistake, until a string of private coves appear next to large villas. Do not be intimidated as some of them have open stairways chiseled into the cliffs where you can make your way down to one of the best picnic spots in town or a secluded swimming spot in the summer.  

We gorged on delicious ćevapčići and borek, but our best meal in the country, was a Bosnian one. Travelling on a budget means very rarely eating in restaurants, but as a treat after days of bread and cheese picnics we were spoilt with Begova Čorba – a Bosnian veal and turkey cream soup with okra and kaymak cheese (krem juha od teletine i puretine s bamijom, porcem i kaymakom). Yum! This was of course followed by a honey rakia and a blueberry rakia to digest our meal.

You cannot escape these countries without downing a few shots of rakia/rakija. Rakia is mainly produced by distilling fermented fruit and contains about 40-60% alcohol. We were often welcomed with a shot of the strong stuff, honey being my favourite, aniseed being undrinkable, but it would be rude to refuse it, right? I had to finally put my foot down in Montenegro after being handed a black coloured rakia for the third time. Almost no social occasion is complete without a bottle of rakia, though the liqueur can also be used as part of home-made remedies for colds and flus, supposedly burning any germs you may be harbouring in your body. As Slavko from Kotor says, “Rakia is good for connecting and correcting.”

Probably no other country has a name which matches its geographic disposition as well as Montenegro. Meaning “Black Mountain”, it is evident why this was chosen as soon you cross the border into this vertiginous land.

Entering the fjord which forms the Bay of Kotor, my mouth drops open. It is spectacular. Calling Montenegro “hilly” would be an understatement, it is a place worthy of climbing. We followed a dedicated orthodox procession up the old fortress walls of Kotor to Saint John’s castle perched on the edge with a magnificent panorama over the bay. Whether you decide to trek up or drive up, going upwards is always rewarded with the best views. The historic kings of Montenegro agreed, King Petar II Petrović-Njegoš expressed as his last wish to be buried on one of the tallest peaks in what is now Lovćen National Park. From there on a clear day you can see 6 countries – Italy, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Albania, Kosovo and Serbia. The modest king had instructed them to leave the highest peak for a future king who would be an even better ruler than him. The irony of the modern world is that the neighbouring tallest peak is now crowned with a radio and TV tower – the contemporary rulers of our world.

The three countries gave us 2 weeks of thought provoking moments, some life lessons, stunning landscapes and several laugh-out-loud events that still make me smile at the thought of them.

One of these particularly ‘poignant’ occasions was riding in a small packed furgon (minibus) late at night into Tirana. Our first taste of Albania was in the evening light, not sure of what we would see once morning came, we kept our eyes open in the dark silent van for any signs of life in the street. Once we started approaching an urban area, suddenly music started blaring from the speakers, blasting obscene lyrics into the quietness. Perhaps it was a coincidence or perfectly timed for arrival, but no one blinked, everyone was straight-faced and immobile as a singer moaned about various body parts being licked. I started crying tears of laughter at the hilariousness of the situation, listen to it here I dare you to. Welcome to Tirana.

A life lesson from our Albanian experience was a reminder of how you cannot judge a person by his appearance. Crossing the border into Shkodra, my mind was plagued by the numerous warnings we were given before entering. “Be careful about Albania and Albanians, it is not safe.” They could not have been more wrong. Descending our bus from Montenegro to look for a furgon to Tirana, we were slightly lost and extra cautious. A man in dark sunglasses and a Verizon baseball cap atop greasy hair told us we could follow him since he was heading there too. We hesitated and decided that he was our best bet since it was too late to take the regular bus and we did not speak a word of Albanian. Turns out Youri from Kosovo is the most fascinating person we have met on our trip so far. I kick myself for doubting someone based on assumptions made through their appearance, yet this is one of the tools we have been programmed to use when accessing situations we are unsure of. A mysterious traveller speaking at least 7 languages, he has never lived outside Kosovo, yet seemed to possess a fountain of knowledge about every corner of the world. He took us under his wing until we reached Tirana, making sure we got to our destination and taking the time to point out the fact that the gigantic low hanging moon we were witnessing on the road only happens every 26 months.

In our manifesto we aim to follow the unexpected. We followed the unexpected kindness of Youri halfway, though we would have liked to have spent more time with him.

We did not know what to expect from Albania, arriving unprepared for the breathtaking mountain ranges, the immediate central asian touches, and the kindness of everyone we met. Both Berat and Gjirokaster are ancient towns with Ottoman influences, architecturally and geographically reminding us of villages in Nepal, Kyrgystan or Tibet. Being awoken to the gentle chanting from mosques immediately transported us to another setting.

We were also unprepared for the quirky Albanian architecture. Through rapid development, houses were often incomplete, we saw one with the first three storeys composed of empty columns and topped by a full apartment on the fourth floor. Terraces and external stairways often have no safety barrier and steel rods from the foundations jut out from the corners of the house. The aspect that stood out the most though, were random stuffed toys hanging from balconies. Looking like teddy bears or bunny rabbits who had committed suicide by hanging turns out these are there to deter the “evil eye” – Dordolec. In Albanian superstition, they are meant to distract the passerby from fixating on the house so as not to incite envy for the property. Stuffed toys are just the modern incarnation of this practice. We would definitely like to come back one day to do a photo project purely on Albanian architecture and its toys.

During our trip planning we were not concerned about the short amount of time we would have in these countries, because we imagined it would be easy to come back. It is strange how we often are more curious about distant worlds than those closer to home. Now that we have opened Pandora’s Box, it is definitely a region we will be coming back to and we are determined to return with more knowledge as well, or so we plan to. Any Balkan “experts” or good books out there to recommend us in our quest?