28. return to Tirana

We cannot go to the Western Balkans, and not go to Tirana. Evidently, judging from friends’ comments, and from more general info, Albania is the holiday country to be, at this moment in time. Lovely people, fabulous nature, great beaches, cheap food and cheap alcohol. Even though the country is not part of ex-Yugoslavia, the focus of this blog, we have to see this with our own eyes. Oh, yes, and we also lived here for two years, almost 30 years ago. Just after the overthrow of the communist regime, which became the start of the Albanian ultra-capitalist era. With quite a few nasty side effects, at the time. Just curious how a country, that was really the pits then, criminal and opportunistic, has turned into Europe’s hottest vacation paradise in the time span of a generation. Brace yourself for far too many photographs!

First Impressions

And obviously, things have changed. Where 30 years ago the only motorway was a five km stretch from the outskirts of the city to the airport, now we enter Albania from Prizren in Kosovo on a perfect four lane road, some 100 km long perhaps, and helped by a 5.5 km long tunnel through the mountains that shaves some 2 or 3 hours off the travel time. There is very little traffic, though. And a maximum speed of, mostly, 80 km/hr is perhaps a bit overprotective?

In any case, we travel comfortably to Tirana – until we reach Tirana. Where it feels we are back in Prishtina. Thirty years ago there were hardly any cars in Tirana, and they were mostly stolen Mercedes. Now every brand, the more expensive the better, can be spotted on the streets, and you’ve got plenty of time to study them in detail, because the traffic goes snail-pace; all the roads in the centre are completely blocked most of the time. Progress, of sorts.

When I checked booking.com earlier for three nights’ accommodation, I got 1078 options. I remember that 30 years ago there was the Tirana International Hotel, and that was it. Stories abound of people who had booked a room there, and had to double, or triple up, with complete strangers, because there was no other option. After a year, a second hotel opened. Now we had booked a comfortable apartment, with private parking, in the centre. Progress, definitely. Except that we have to pay in cash, of course. No traces of financial transactions.

The City Centre

We arrive at the end of the afternoon, and of course we cannot wait until the next day to check out the city, find the old points of reference, recognition. The Tirana Hotel, once the tallest building in town, is still there, but is overshadowed by the Intercontinental, which is twice as high, and almost finished. The big round-about that was Skanderbeg Square is now a huge pedestrian plaza, with shiny tiles which must be very hot in summer, because apart from some plastic bench-like structures along the sides, there is nothing. It is empty. Progress? Not really, not according to the Albanian people we talk to.

At the other end of the square is the statue of Skanderbeg, Albania’s national hero, who in the 15th C, after deserting the Ottoman army, fought almost 30 years of guerilla war against them. In which he was highly successful, also in creating ever changing alliances with Christian entities in Italy and Spain, but he never succeeded in creating an really independent Albania.

Next to it is the cute little 18th C Ethem Bey Mosque, with its frescoes outside and inside, once proudly standing on its own – well, with the clock tower from 1822 behind it -, now overwhelmed by new high-rise. On the other side of Skanderbeg, a Ferris wheel, Tirana’s attempt to enter the league of world cities. But it is a sorry version, very small, nothing compared to the London Eye. Nobody is using it, despite the hordes of tourist that are flocking to the square – also something that was totally and utterly absent, unthinkable, 30 years ago.

I can go on, of course. The Pyramid, once Enver Hoxha’s mausoleum, then left to rot, then turned into a discotheque, is now wholly refurbished as an IT centre and tourist attraction, with stairs to the top. The tiny stadium next to our compound, at the time, is now a vast commercial enterprise, with a hotel and restaurants, and with the football pitch hidden inside. And everywhere in town ultra-modern high-rise, designed by internationally renowned architects, have appeared, or are under construction. Individually beautiful buildings, without doubt, but put down in the absence of any consistent town planning. Apparently, many of those buildings are being developed with ‘private money’, no bank loans, so no interest payments needed, so no need to create a return. One of the most eye-catching ones was completed five years ago, but nobody is living there yet, no offices are being occupied. Obvious where the money comes from, but the financial strategy here beats me.

It is only when you get to the streets behind the main boulevards that some of old Tirana remains. Most of the pallatis, the cheap four or five story apartment buildings with variably closed-in balconies, have gone, but some are still present, as completely unreconstructed remnants of the past. Occasionally, they have been painted over, to give them a jolly outer appearance, but more often they are like what they were 30 years ago. A reminder that not everybody has benefitted from the unbridled capitalism that has affected much of this country, and that we saw emerge 30 years ago.

The Tourist Attractions

There are a few new tourist attractions. In the outskirts of the city a cable car leads up to the 1600 m high Mount Dajti, the mountain behind Tirana. At the upper station, just below the top, is an adventure park, a mini golf course, and lots of other silly games, as well as a hotel and restaurant. The view over the city is fabulous: even though Tirana is really a bit far, we can make out the various new constructions, and even the Pyramid.

Nearby is Bunk’art 1, a museum in a five storey underground bunker that was built in the 1970s to protect the Albanian communist elite in case of war, and serve as command centre. It now houses an exhibition of the communist past of the country, especially that of the rule of Enver Hoxha, its long-time dictator. To be honest, not very interesting, too much detail, too many old photos of people’s heroes and too many important documents, but in Albanian only. But walking through the bunker is a special experience, and above all cannot better demonstrate the utter waste of resources that this country put into the establishment of its extensive bunker network – some 700,000 bunkers were built all across the country, at each and every intersection, along the coast, in the mountains, between 1967 and 1986 -, designed to withstand a joint Soviet-American attack on Albania. Just look at the assembly hall, inside Bunk’art 1. The promise of art, as part of the exhibition, is a feeble one.

In town is Bunk’art 2, another Albanian paranoia war bunker, dedicated to the history of the police. Smaller than Bunk’art 1, it is however much more poignant, as it details the ways of working, from spying on its own citizens and on each and every foreigner in the country, to punishing the same citizens for perceived treason (like listening to Italian radio, or speaking in denigrating terms about the Party, you know, truly stability-threatening offenses). In five or six rooms lists hanging from the ceiling name all the political prisoners who have died, in custody or fleeing from the police. One section deals with the sealing off of the border by barbed wire, and how people who tried to break through were mercilessly hunted down, with dogs. Another remarks on “the worrying number of accidents for the traffic police. The drivers’ preparation was poor. In 1958 only 1% of all drivers (drivers, not people!) in Albania had first class licence”. Progress, anyone?

The Verdict

There is not much else to do in town, except for taking a coffee on one of the many terraces that are lining the streets, and especially the several pedestrian areas. Different from 30 years ago, when everybody just put a kiosk or a small terrace along the main boulevard, or in the park, without any permit, without any town planning permission. Back then, there was no pedestrian area anyhow, because there were so few cars, people just walked up and down the street.

Of course Tirana is clearly a different city now, and that was to be expected. Standards of living are higher. The town is remarkably clean, there is not much rubbish around. But whether it has become a better city? My travel companion, a bit of a sucker for nostalgia, thinks the city has lost its soul. Perhaps she is right.