#passion passport

Pushing out into the milky blue waters, letting the warm liquid take my weight and making those first few strokes across the pool toward those snowy mountains in the distance; that was how this morning began.⁣

Few things are more refreshing than an early morning swim, a chance to wake up and stretch, enjoy an hour of open headspace before the rest of the world rises. Not that there were many people around; the waters weren’t exceptionally hot but neither was the weather, and this was enough to put most off. The main appeal for us was that this pool was just the right size and depth for swimming in.⁣

The steam swirled upwards in the thin winter sunshine, a herd of goats crossed the old Ottoman bridge with a tinkling of bells, and we swam. Back and forth, round and round, algae tickling our feet and the constant crashing of water falling from the pool into the river, staining it too that surreal milky blue as it filtered down through the valley.⁣

The nights were cold and filled with starlit skies, alive with the croaking of bullfrogs and the rushing of river water. The days were peaceful and cool, broken up only by short visits into the nearby town of Permët.⁣

We had a blissful feeling of completeness here, a sense of comforting familiarity we could seldom find on the road. This was the area we’d stayed in when we first came to Albania, and we loved it so much then we spent a whole week here. Little had changed in two years, apart from the damage caused by country-wide flooding had been repaired and the family of stray cats we’d fed were long gone, to be replaced by a timid yet local black dog who crept out of the shadows at night in search of food.⁣

Sadly we didn’t have the luxury of time on our side this time, and after three short days we were onto our next destination in a bid to get our battered old van repaired before she could let us down again…⁣

But we would always miss the milky blue waters of Benjë, tucked away in this furtive little valley, and we would remember this corner of Albania fondly.

Our last few days in Macedonia were spent enveloped in a freezing fog which shrouded our view and promised snow which never came. We woke up daily to frost inside the windscreen and icicles hanging off our van. The fog wrapped itself around every plant, every rock and every being, leaving each wrapped in thick kisses of ice, turning the entire landscape silver and white without a snowflake ever falling from the sky.⁣

We were camped up on the peaceful shores of Lake Prespa, undisturbed by anyone, wrapped up in thick layers of blankets against the minus temperatures outdoors.⁣

Truthfully, the Macedonians were used to colder climates this time of year, and -7°C at night was the result an unseasonably mild winter; we had returned to the country expecting snow, and we were leaving disappointed on that front.⁣

But we were leaving confident that we had made the right decision to return; after cutting our time here short to leave for Greece in December we’d been aching to explore more of the country, and we’d been fortunate enough to enjoy an extra two weeks here getting to know the southern regions and the Macedonian way of life.⁣

We’d met some lovely people, experienced welcoming in the Orthodox New Year with rakija and fireworks, witnessed the crazy tradition of jumping into ice cold water on Epiphany Day, sampled delicious food and learned so much about a country that had never even been on our radar.⁣

That morning we left for Albania with conflict in our hearts; we were leaving for a country we’d long since fallen in love with, but we were leaving behind a blossoming romance with a land that had stolen our hearts and captured our souls.⁣

⁣Truthfully we loved the entirety of the Balkans, but we had found a special place in the very heart of the Balkan Peninsula, and when our trip was finally over Macedonia was where we’d be yearning to return.

Our arrival in Bosnia & Herzegovina came as a pleasant surprise.⁣⁠⠀

After following the craggy walls of the mighty Tara Canyon all the way through Montenegro it led us straight into the capital city of Sarajevo. We weren’t here to see the war ruins, nor had we come to try and find the best burek (although that was debatable). No, with just seven short days in this intriguing country that was once one of the most fundamental parts of the Yugoslav Republic, there was only time to explore one thing: the remains of Sarajevo’s Winter Olympics venues.⁣⁠

We pulled up after a long day of inter-country driving, arranging of SIM cards and fawning over foreign foods in a new supermarket, next to a long, snaking and heavily graffitied piece of concrete. We’d seen photos of the abandoned bobsleigh track online but never for one minute did we imagine we could drive into it, let alone camp. The place was perfectly secluded amongst the pine trees, at the top of a mountain which gave a spectacular view over the city. As night fell we rested underneath the Sarajevan sky now studded with stars.⁣

Come morning we noticed a distinct chill in the air, and threw open the door to discover a blanket of snow all around us. We’d had no inkling snow was coming, and had been lamenting the day before how incredible it would’ve been to see the bobsleigh track as it was during the 1984 Winter Olympics.⁣⁠⠀

We bundled on our boots in pure excitement and piled out of the van to make tracks in the fresh, untrodden snow and explore the lengths of the snaking concrete track which wound its way in and out of the pine forest. At times we were completely hidden by trees, shrouded in fog, appearing at regular intervals in view of a road or a place where spectators would’ve gathered in years gone by before the war changed the face of Sarajevo forever.⁣⁠

Fingers suitably numbed, we headed back into the van to warm them with coffee.⁠

Quite often we feel as though we’re travelling through some faraway distant land when we come across scenes like this, and in many ways I suppose we are. But looking at a map of the world, seeing how small and insignificant the miles we’ve covered across Europe are, Albania feels like it’s on our doorstep compared to the journeys we will make one day.⁣

Albania has a unique culture unlike that of any other Balkan country, born of the decades of isolation they faced during the years of communism inflicted on them. They had no contact with the outside world, religion was forbidden and freedom seemed unimaginable.⁣

After the death of dictator Enver Hoxha and the fall of communism, the Albanian people started to recover; they were free to pursue their own lines of work, farm their own animals, and practice religion once more. Now a great majority of the country are Muslim, and the rolling mountain valleys are punctuated by beautifully ornate mosques such as this one in the tiny rural village of Qerret i Madhe.⁣

We spent the afternoon in this village, after a morning of windy tree-planting with @vulnetkuci and @discover_puka, at @agroturizem_devin, sampling the various and delicious homemade products they produced or foraged. We ate pieces of dried persimmon, homemade flija (a traditional dish of layered pancakes and sour cream) and tiramisu made with Turkish coffee washed down with sweet berry juice.⁣

It was fascinating to see how much food could be grown or foraged locally, how one woman and her daughters could live self-sufficiently and thrive.⁣

We thanked them for their time and headed back into Pukë for one final night before we were to travel into the far North.

Deep in the heart of North Albania, nestled in the foothills of the Albanian Alps, lies a curious little town named Pukë (pronounced Puka).⁣

An intriguing blend of old stone houses and Alpine-inspired architecture with a tall, white mosque tower rising proudly out of the centre, the town of Pukë is one of the highest in the country. Surrounded on all sides by sprawling pine forest, with the snow-lined peaks of the Accursed Mountains looming imposingly in the distance, it was the perfect place for us to spend a week getting a taste of rural Albanian life.⁣

As we walked in search of our morning coffee and byrek the streets were alive with activity; women walking around with armfuls of fresh bread, crowds of men chatting and smoking in the local billiard halls, children crowding at the school gates to buy snacks from a vendor and people stocking up their cars with supplies from the mini market, to take to some faraway village no doubt.⁣

Over the course of the next few days we would begin to recognise the same faces; likewise the bakers and shopkeepers we visited had begun to recognise us. The same police car patrolled slowly up and down the main street, its two officers smoking cigarettes and stopping to chat or move on the occasional badly parked car.⁣

It had a wonderfully small town feel to it that reminded us so much of Cornwall and made us feel instantly safe and welcome. This was only day one of our time here and already we had so much to look forward to…⁣

If you’re ever in the North of Albania make sure you hit up our friends at @discover_puka for a truly authentic experience of Albanian life and a tour of this beautiful area of the world.