Traveling Through Albania's Enchanted Mountain Region | Amazing Albania

It is perhaps the last white spot on European maps. Shqipëria, better known to us as Albania. For decades it's been completely sealed off from the outside world. Hardly anywhere else are bias and reality as far apart as here. Albania is poor, but it is also rich. Rich in mountains and a diversity of landscapes. A country with warm-hearted people and a Mediterranean lifestyle. People who travel to Albania should be ready for extraordinary surprises. Albania lies on the western edge of the Balkan peninsula. Only a couple of hours from most of Europe, yet for many of us, an unknown destination. The first part of our journey takes us to the north of the country, to the Albanian Alps, better known as the Enchanted Mountains. A high alpine landscape, shaped by glaciers, near the border with Montenegro. The Enchanted Mountains are considered Albania's poorest region. Over the past 20 years, many people have left. Only 80 people live in the village of Tëth. There is no medical care, no high school, no bakery or grocery store. Francesc Harusa's family has stayed. In the summer they run a guesthouse for backpackers. Along with farming, it is their only way to earn money. 15-year-old Francesc takes care of the cattle. Every morning he takes them to the nearby pasture. The animals know the way and stop for a short break to drink water at the shala. Even in the summer, this mountain river flows through the valley as a wild stream. Francesc will soon have to decide whether he is going to attend school in the nearest town, Shkodra. It's nice here. I want to stay here. Every morning you wake up and see the mountains. If I go away to school in Shkodra, I won't see my family. If I stay here, it will take me two hours to get to school and two hours to get home. Four hours! And in the winter, when it snows, I don't know what I'll do. I'll have to decide together with my family. Tëth is in the heart of the national park. It was founded in 1966 during the communist regime of Enver Hoxha. Francesc never experienced communism himself. But the effects of more than 40 years of dictatorship still dominate the country and its people today. Whether in the far north or the far south of Albania. Through the enchanted mountains, we travel across plateaus, past bubbling crystal-clear mountain streams and green valleys ever further west, to Valbona. Near the border with Kosovo and Montenegro, the remains of communist dictatorship can still be seen at every turn. Thousands of bunkers dot the landscape. What used to be a heavily guarded border region to the former Yugoslavia has become a favourite destination for nature lovers. The development of the tourist industry began quite late in Albania, because for years the communist regime didn't allow any visitors. In recent years, ecotourism has become an important economic factor in Valbona. Several hotels catering to sports enthusiasts and independent travellers have sprung up. One of them belongs to American Catherine Bone and her Albanian husband, Alfred. Seven years ago I was living in Brooklyn, New York, where I had a bookstore. And after eight or nine years I had all these free air mile tickets and a friend of mine said to me, what are you doing, you haven't been anywhere in years, go take a holiday. And I had just been reading something that reminded me of having seen Albania from a boat as a child. Okay, I am, I'm going, I'm going to take a trip. And they said, where are you going? And I said, Albania. But the minute I got here, the nature, the people, it's just an amazing place, but it's also a place that's full of possibility. There are all these sort of things waiting to happen and needing to happen. So there's a kind of, there's a sense of urgency, which depending on the day is either exciting or terrifying. But it's a good place to be, I feel useful. The wildlife expert Alexander Traca is visiting Catherine. On the way through the mountains he filmed illegally caught animals. I mean, nowhere else in Europe something like this happens. We are probably the only country in the continent where it is still happening. Although officially banned, rare wildlife such as this brown bear are sometimes kept as entertainment in restaurants in Albania. Poaching is a big problem. Even the critically endangered Balkan lynx can be seen in his video. A mother has been shot. It's not just the individual bears. I mean, of course the conditions are horrible, but it means that you have killed off a generation of future bears to come. So basically shooting the mother means that you don't just kill that individual bear, but you kill all the children she could have had. No one knows exactly how many bears, wolves and lynxes still live in the wild. As the mammal expert of the largest conservation organisation in Albania, Alex Traca has been able to find out a lot about the behaviour and habitat of endangered animals in his work. Catherine and her husband have been helping Alex for several years and set up camera traps in the nearby woods. The last time they did it was two weeks ago. We had had a camera further up the path around the corner. I couldn't remember whether I'd taken it down or not. So I said, I'll just run around the corner up this path ten minutes and check. And I went around the corner and a tiny baby bear popped onto the path and then the mother bear popped up behind it. And they were actually crossing the path to leave. And I did the stupid thing that of all people I should know better not to do, but I did. And I yelled for Alfred and then the bear, which hadn't seen me at that point, saw me. And it was clearly a young mother bear. It's the time of the year when they bring the cubs out. The cub was tiny. The cub was like this big. The bear herself was only this big. But she charged me. And I threw myself on the ground the way that you're supposed to do. And she basically grabbed my arm, slapped me across the face, flipped me over and took off. Catherine was lucky that the bear just sent her a warning. The incident could have been deadly for her. Just like Feth, Valbona Valley is also part of a national park, which was created in the 60s. Often in Albania, protected areas like this only exist on paper. It doesn't stop the local people from logging illegally, setting intentional fires or going hunting. Alex wants to learn more about the behavior and population of bears, wolves and lynxes by using camera traps. Catherine advocates for better protection of the national park. And that hasn't changed, even after her painful encounter with the bear. On the contrary. We're all actually really excited now, because it's been a real wake-up call to say, I think for years what we really were interested in doing was concentrating on nature. And it's been great working with Pippinea, because they come and they make us focus on this, but otherwise we get distracted with sort of everyday life and trying to run a business. But now this is really like, no, there's no time to waste. We need to understand these animals, we need to know where they are, what they're doing. Because the local population has lived, as Alex said, successfully with them for hundreds of years now. And I think we can use the knowledge that the local people have, we can reach out to other countries in Europe with bear monitoring programs, and we can start to really study and know what's going on here, both for the benefit of the tourists coming to the area, but also, more importantly, actually for the nature. If you follow the river Valbona further south, it flows into the Drin. With its many artificial reservoirs, the Drin is like a natural road that connects people in remote mountain regions together. The most beautiful of the reservoirs is probably the Coman. The fact that the lake has become a small tourist attraction is thanks mainly to Mario Mola. The 23-year-old uses his boat to transport residents, animals, food, and even tourists in the rough areas around the lake. Mario calls the Coman his girlfriend, a love story that has lasted his whole life. My father started this boat business. Initially, they were very small boats with small motors and 15 to 20 seats. They transported mainly villagers and people from the area, all the cattle that people wanted to move across the reservoir to Shkodra. My older brother and I learned to love the lake and the boats in our cradles, and at the same time, it was the only way to feed our family. So eight years ago, we slowly started with tourism. I think that's an interesting thing. This one piece will make 52 layers. Watch on mobile devices or the big screen. All for free. No subscription required. His father died in a car accident last year, which means Mario is now the head of the household, a responsibility he takes very seriously. We have common law here that is still practiced. We call it a state, and it is part of Canun. A state means that I am obligated to protect and preserve the land and house of my ancestors. So I've spruced up the house and now offer it to tourists as accommodation. My main concern, however, is to protect the country where I was born. His family home is located directly on the shores of Lake Coman. Mario's sister and mother do all the catering for the tourists. Gender roles are very clearly divided in northern Albania. Women stay at home and take care of the family and children. Hospitality is very important. The local common laws, called Canun, are clear on this, and are known even beyond the country's borders. They are a collection of laws from the Middle Ages, which regulate the coexistence of people in the rugged, mountainous regions of northern Albania. The Canun is still very well known today. Honor, respect, vendetta and forgiveness, but not least hospitality, are of great importance in northern Albania. Very few people live in the barren, remote mountain regions. Life is hard. People are desperately poor here. On a day in July, the Festival of Forgiveness is celebrated. In the evening, the family meet up and sit together until late at night. According to the common laws of Canun, family disputes, hostilities and forgiveness are expressed during this late-night vigil. Philip Martini is on the so-called Council of Elders, and explains the meaning of Canun. If there is an argument or a misunderstanding, for example, then the Council of Elders is responsible for explaining the meaning of Canun. The Council of Elders intervenes with the laws of Canun. Even if someone has committed a murder, the Elders can decide whether to forgive them or not. Canun is often contrary to today's modern laws. They differ greatly from one another. According to Canun, you can kill and then ask for forgiveness, but with the official laws, you'd go to jail. Women have always had a lower status than men in Canun. But it is also opposed to violence against women. The Martini family drink their raki and celebrate the Festival of Forgiveness until late at night. Our journey continues towards the northwest. On the Adriatic coast near Montenegro, there is an exceptional landscape. The Buna, the second largest Adriatic river, flows into the Drin River. Together, they push large amounts of water and sediment towards the Mediterranean. Sand and gravel are deposited in the estuary and have created a floodplain with sandy foothills, the Buna Delta. A paradise for birds and fish has developed along the 30 km long sandy beach with its lagoons. But the natural resources of the Buna Delta and nearby Lake Skadar are endangered. Illegal construction, bird hunting and dams which are being planned threaten to destroy the idyll. South of Lake Skadar lies the city of Skodra. With more than 140,000 inhabitants, it is the biggest city in the north. Most of the people here are Catholic, although most of the rest of Albania is Muslim. It is not uncommon for a Muslim to marry a Christian, or vice versa. There is a well-known saying, the religion of the Albanian is Albanianness, a sentence that has lost none of its relevance over time. We leave Skodra and the nearby Lake Skadar. We go further south. By train. On one of the few remaining railways in Albania. There has been a train connection between Skodra and Tirana since 1982. Aferdita Gjipali has worked for Albanian Railways for 34 years. For her, not much has changed since communism ended. With a top speed of 30 km per hour, the train chugs towards Tirana. The tracks are old. Only just enough is invested to ensure that the service can somehow continue. I have always liked this job, because it's a very honest job. Contact with people, communication with people is important for me. The job serves the community, and community jobs are good because you get to know new people. I like serving people, and the community. I've always liked that. Today, throughout Albania, there are only three routes in operation. Albanians love their cars. Most people have cars and have to work, and want to get their errands done quickly. To get from one city to another, a car is, of course, faster than a train. The trains here are very slow, and the passengers are quite poor. To get from Skodra to Durres costs only 160 lek. we arrive in Lezha, north of Tirana. Mainly fruit, vegetable and livestock farmers live in this region. This small city and its surroundings are at the narrowest part of the Albanian coast. The younger generation has mostly migrated to the big cities, as there is very little work. Those who remain are elderly, such as goat farmer Tonin Koleci. Every day, he harnesses his donkey to the cart and brings milk to a unique place. The Shade of the Fairies, the restaurant belonging to Altin Pringas. The 31-year-old took over his parents' inn five years ago, together with his younger brother. Altin cooks exclusively with products from the region. The farmers supply the restaurant daily with fresh vegetables, fruits, cereals, meat and milk. The restaurant is directly below his parents' old farmhouse, which he renovated and expanded a few years ago for guests and tourists. Visitors come from far away to eat in the Shade of the Fairies. Even the Albanian prime minister has eaten here. Most of the employees have worked with Altin since he opened the restaurant. He is now considered one of the best chefs in the country. Five years ago, we opened the first slow food restaurant in Albania. Slow food was unknown to Albanians until then. Our idea is to cook traditional Albanian dishes with a modern twist. The most important thing for us, however, is that we use products from the region, from the farmers in the area. Albanian cuisine has so far experienced two large tsunamis. Invasions can often enrich a culture, but communism was nothing but a dictatorship. It destroyed our culinary heritage. Before that, we were a rich country. We exchanged culinary traditions with both the East and the West, with Italy, Germany and Turkey. But the dictatorship destroyed it all, because they took free will from the Albanians. Independent farmers, large or small, did not exist. There were no private entrepreneurs, and occasions like Christmas or Ramadan were not allowed. All these limitations have led to a lack of tradition in cooking. Only in mountainous regions, in the very hidden places, have the tradition survived, because communism could not control these areas. Then came democracy, and that was even worse, because the focus was exclusively on foreign cuisine and foreign influences, so traditional Albanian cuisine was forgotten. Today it's a little better, but there are still more international restaurants than Albanian. Altin and his family are ahead of their time. Sustainability and a return to culinary traditions are rare in Albania today. Altin is looking forward, to a future where success is the biggest uncertainty. From Lezha onwards towards Tirana. Only 20 kilometers away from the capital, the farmer and winemaker Haidar Kuci lives on his farm in Marikaj. The 56-year-old works the land together with his family, and has created something that is still unusual in Albania. I was born in the village of Marikaj, and studied agronomy. Until the 90s, we worked under the communist system. When that collapsed, we could go back to being a private operation. We got our possessions, our country back, and started to farm it for ourselves. I have a total of one and a half hectares of wine-growing land, where I grow grapes and produce wine. In addition to wine, we have vegetables and olive trees. We have goats and cows. The milk from the animals we use for cheese, and sell it. So for the last 20 years, we have been working for ourselves. Sometimes in high season, we still bring in a few helpers. His son, Skelkim, and his 81-year-old mother, Djemalia, live on the farm and help out too. Djemalia's three other sons emigrated to Italy. Haidar is the only child that stayed at home, and after communism fell, had to fight for 17 years for the return of his family's property. The seven bunkers on the farm are a legacy of this period, and still officially belong to the state. However, Haidar is allowed to use them. In one is the old wine press, which, together with his brother, he bought second-hand 10 years ago, in Italy. We ferment, produce and label our wines here. These bunkers are ideal for wine production. In the summer, it is cool, and in the winter, it is warm. Inside, the temperatures hardly differ during summer and winter. The communist army used the bunkers as a warehouse for cars and weapons and other military equipment. But when the communist system collapsed, they cleared everything out and took what belonged to them. Now, I use it as a storage area. They were army depots, and now we use them as wine depots. Haidar's farm is less than half an hour from the capital by car. Tirana. The city has a population of more than 400,000 and is the cultural, political and economic centre of the country. Dilapidated buildings bear witness to its communist past. Since then, they have been colourfully painted, like so many house fronts, which was an idea of the artist and later mayor, Edi Rama. A sense of decline and new beginnings is omnipresent in Tirana. The city is still very young. It only became the capital of Albania in 1920, and around two decades later, the power centre of Enver Hoxha. Long years under the old regime took their toll on the people and the cityscape alike. Under communist rule, Desira Maia, together with 2,000 other girls, had to weave carpets from the age of 15. For 40 years, she fed her family of four with her weaving. It takes her 20 days to make a large rug. During communism, this job was allocated to young girls. We did not go to school. We were not allowed to go to school because of work. We worked for five cents under the communist regime, and our parents were forced to send their daughters to the weaving mill. And the carpets were exclusively for export. Times have changed, but it is not that simple today either. Desira cannot find enough skilled workers anymore, and so she weaves for 12 to 16 hours every day. I am happy that communism is over. It was a dictatorship for families. My kids never had the chance during those times. No matter what job, education is education and craft is craft. But education is the most important thing, and I am very happy that this day has come. Higher education would have been impossible for women like Desira under communism. Today in Albania, more women study than men. Although the courtyard's facades convey something else, today's Albania is a young country. Hip and unconventional, young creative people have made the old communist buildings their own. Many of them have lived abroad and have come back to Tirana. Photography student and actress Fioralba Kriyamadi is one of them. She is on the road a lot for her thesis these days. In Trendi Broku, she looks for suitable locations for her pictures. Fioralba loves the contrast of old and new in her hometown. A special energy she knows only from Tirana. In the old town, she meets her friend Maya, who is modelling for her today. Bicycles, carpets and furniture are for sale on the narrow sidewalks. Since the small shops have no space, the shopkeepers simply sell their goods on the street. Without further ado, a sofa becomes a backdrop. For Fioralba, this energy is what makes Tirana so special. Tirana itself is creative. Wherever you go, you can find the most extreme things. From modern buildings to old communist buildings. There's a lot of pollution and yet there are people who want to live an environmentally conscious life. Very poor people next to very rich people. There is everything here and always something for everyone. This town is very inspiring. The problem is not finding work, but earning enough money. Few people can live from their art alone. For women, this is even more difficult here. Yes, it's hard, but we must also go forward and we must find a way. There is no straight road, nothing is easy. The future of Albania is in the hands of this generation.