#travel journal
I have to secretly take this photo because taking pictures are not allowed in some areas, but I can’t resist the beauty of this ceiling.
(Inside The Bassilica, Roma, Italia)
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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.
On a particularly frosty Monday morning we rose earlier than the sun did, cameras in hand and blankets around our shoulders to capture the sunrise and encapsulate it in our memories.
The watercolour sky was awash with pale pinks and dusky orange, the jagged mountain peaks shrouding the horizon beyond. Below our camp spot sat the most pristine lake of emerald water, clear as glass, and a thick stream of cloud scooting across its surface before being sucked down into the valley below.
We stood patiently, cameras poised, as the fiery sunlight licked the tops of the mountains and slowly made its way down to their base. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the golden rays filtered through the peaks and burst through the chill in the air. The snaking dirt track beneath us was all of a sudden bathed in gold, the fog clouds set ablaze in the sky, and the warmth of a late winter’s day kissed our cheeks and unfroze our hands.
It felt like an achievement for us, a rare gift of total aloneness after several chaotic days amongst the city folk of Tirana, long before the first commuter minibuses would rumble their way down this track. We retreated to the van to reward ourselves with coffee, watching the sun scatter the orderly clouds into a haze of fog that enveloped the landscape and licked at our van.
An early start and a little less sleep had been a fair trade to enjoy this moment all to ourselves. We cradled our coffee cups and pored over maps, planning the day’s adventure ahead before the rest of the world had even pulled back the covers and risen out of bed.
Standing on the edge of the world with you.
We’re missing camp spots like this one in Albania as we self-isolate back in Cornwall after a nightmare drive getting back, but we still have many weeks worth of photos and travel stories to share with you all that will hopefully brighten your days.
Tell us what you’re up to if you’re self-isolating- we’re working on our huge backlog of travelogues for YouTube, repairing the many problems with our van and drinking countless cups of Yorkshire tea! ☕️
