From buzzy Tirana, we set our alarms bright and early to walk through the city at dawn and catch a 6am bus across the border into Montenegro. We were bound for Podgorica, which must surely be Europe’s least well known capital, and notable only really for the fact that it doesn’t appear anywhere at all in Lonely Planet’s list of Montenegro highlights – that’s really unusual for a capital city! Anyway, we had a very good reason for coming here (more on that in the next post), but first we had a couple of days to explore Podgorica and further afield.
In line with everything we’d read, Podgorica barely felt like a city at all – more like a provincial town. We spent a short time doing some very gentle sightseeing through Independence Square and the old town, before retreating to our accommodation to enjoy its riverside location.
And actually, this is where Podgorica really came into its own – where else can you swim in crystal clear river water within a ten minute walk of the very centre of a capital city? Of course, when I say swim, what I actually mean is that I lost my balance and fell in with an almighty splash. Thankfully I was on my way in anyway, but it was still a very cold surprise! From our lovely spot on the rocks next to the river, we could just see Podgorica’s one remaining landmark that we hadn’t yet visited: the graceful Millennium Bridge, which crossed the Morača River just downstream of us.
On our second day in Montenegro, we hopped on a 90-minute bus bound for Budva, a town on the Adriatic Sea. We hadn’t been able to get seats on the daily train to Belgrade, our next destination, so would have to wait until tomorrow. We’d decided on this train ages ago but needed to buy the tickets in person (as there’s no way to do so online), so this was a little frustrating. But then again, I knew just how beautiful the Montenegrin coast was from when I’d visited my friend Amy a few years ago, so having a bonus day wasn’t exactly a hardship.
Budva is a big, busy holiday town not unlike Sarandë, except that it has a beautiful walled old town jutting out to sea, which is protected by a citadel and sometimes described as a mini-Dubrovnik. We spent most of the day retracing my steps from a few years ago, which basically involved me giving the vaguest of directions (“I’m sure there were some cannons somewhere,” or, “I think there was a pretty church”) and then taking credit when Oli found what I had in mind by reading the guidebook.
On our final morning, we sat out by the river to eat our breakfast (including the not-exactly-healthy but delicious local doughnuts, Priganice). While we were there, Oli made firm friends with ‘Montenegrin Thomas’, a little charmer of a chap who wanted to share our breakfast. Not that we’re soft touches or anything, but we offered him a bit of everything we had (except our coffees – we didn’t like him that much).
We’ll return to Montenegro sometime soon when we have a bit more time and it’s not peak summer – I know it has lots more to offer and it is the most ridiculously beautiful country! But for now, we’d run out of time and so we set our sights on Serbia, a brand new country for both of us.
If I’m honest, I didn’t really know much about Albania before we arrived, apart from its pretty poor scorecard at Eurovision. Besides this useful titbit of knowledge, we did know that Albania is only a short ferry ride from Corfu, so we made it the first port of call on the final leg of our journey back to London. We’d (loosely) planned three stops to give us just a small taster of Albania: the seaside town of Sarandë, the mountainous old town of Gjirokastër, and the bustling capital, Tirana.
Our journey to Albania began with being herded around Corfu Town’s port departure lounge by an angry Greek lady. And when I say departure lounge, I actually mean a completely sun-baked car park. In the end we were glad to board our ferry just to get away from her! We’d booked onto the slow car ferry, with the hope that the larger ship might give us a slightly calmer crossing. Alas, this was not to be. The ship was actually pretty small, with space for fewer than ten vehicles, and while the water was calm for the first half of the journey, the ferry started rolling aggressively as we left the shelter of Corfu. It was a pretty nerve-wracking experience as we gripped our benches, with other passengers screaming when the ferry rocked to some quite alarming angles. We were so relieved to eventually disembark at Sarandë and collect our luggage from the lower deck (which had been thoroughly soaked by the waves). We were even more relieved when we realised this was to be the last ferry of our entire trip – we’ve had some interesting experiences!
Sarandë
Sarandë is known as the capital of the Albanian Riviera, and as such is a popular summer holiday destination for Albanians and people from other surrounding Balkan countries. In July and August it transforms into party town, with every square metre of sand occupied by a sun lounger and every hotel fully booked. Come the evenings, holiday makers stroll the promenade after dinner and bar hop along the seafront.
Somehow, we managed a land a table at Haxhi for dinner – a casual restaurant with a big reputation for its views and seafood. While Sara really enjoyed her grilled sea bream, it was our starter that stole the show for me – a giant slab of grilled cheese that genuinely tasted like the cheddar on toast we know so well, just without the toast – I must be missing home! 😋
Gjirokastër
The next day, our good luck continued as we snagged the last two seats on a 90-minute bus to Gjirokastër, with Sara ending up with the best seat in the house next to the driver and me at the back of the bus. Still, it turned out that seats weren’t the limiting factor on this bus, with the driver allowing two people to stand for the first 45 minutes of the journey through the mountains.
Gjirokastër itself is a beautiful medieval town built down the side of an incredibly steep mountain. For context, the short walk to our guesthouse from the commercial town centre involved over 100 metres of slippery elevation gain up polished cobble roads. To be honest, I was quite thankful we were on foot and not driving, as most roads looked frankly impassable without a 4×4, although that didn’t stop a few visitors attempting them!
Just part of the phenomenal view from our guesthouse
As soon as we’d checked in, lunch was our next priority, and we’d read that Gjirokastër was a great place to sample traditional Albanian cuisine. We descended on Odaja, a slick restaurant that has been churning out Balkan staples since 1937. We loved the reversal of the gender roles that were so common in Southeast Asia, with the men waiting on the tables and a woman (who was clearly in charge of the business) handling the money. We dutifully tried quite a few local dishes, and among our favourites were Qifqi, which had been described in English as fried rice balls. We’d assumed that these might be quite similar to Sicilian arancini, but in fact they were very different (and better – sorry, Italy!) in texture and taste, with a satisfyingly crispy exterior and soft, subtle vine-leaf flavoured interior.
That afternoon, we attempted to work off our heavy lunch with a visit to Gjirokastër’s hilltop castle. This 12th century fortress once enclosed the whole town, but the city has practically flowed down the mountain and into the valley beneath as it has grown. The castle had so many interesting stories to tell, but our favourite had to be the two tales behind a US Airforce jet which is curiously parked on top of one of the castle’s walls. US intelligence swears that the pilot became lost in fog and landed at a nearby Albanian military base (during the Cold War), while the Albanian government instead claim that the jet was forced to land after being intercepted by Albanian military aircraft. Either way, the aircraft never flew another mission, and instead rests incongruously amongst the castle’s other treasures.
The view from the castle was nothing short of spectacular. Not only could we see over the rooftops and down the side streets of Gjirokastër’s old town, but also right across the valley and to the mountains beyond. The landscape really reminded us of the mountains, valleys and plains of the Tarnia series – books written by our good friend Luke. We’ve loved reading them on some of our long journeys, but weren’t expecting to suddenly find ourselves in this world in real life!
Tirana
After our short stop-over in Gjirokastër we hit the road again, but this time on a four-hour bus to Tirana, Albania’s capital city. Tirana felt like the polar opposite of Sarandë – where Sarandë was flashy, brash and busy, Tirana was cool and atmospheric. In fact, it seemed like a good chunk of Tirana’s population had headed for Sarandë’s beaches, and left behind a glut of affordable accommodation and great restaurants. Result!
Tirana’s star attraction is undoubtedly Bunk’Art – a Cold War-era nuclear bunker that has been reincarnated as a museum and art gallery. The top-secret bunker was built in the 1970s by the communist government to house the country’s most senior politicians in case of war or invasion, and was unknown to most residents for much of its useful life. Despite its recent facelift, we didn’t want to spend too long in the cold, dark and windowless interior. Still, we did enjoy learning about Albania’s history, from its Second World War occupation by Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy, to its subsequent Communist isolation and most recent emergence as a modern democracy.
The most captivating exhibit had to be the debris of an Allied aircraft, carrying 30 nurses and medical officers, which crash landed in poor weather in an Albanian field during the Second World War. The local Albanians secretly looked after the survivors and dismantled the aircraft to prevent detection by the occupying forces. Even when all 30 of the aircraft’s passengers escaped the country practically unharmed, the secret was kept for a further 50 years during Albania’s Communist era to prevent the punishment of those who had “sympathised with the enemy”.
We rounded off our stay in Albania with a few more traditional Albanian meals. My favourite had to be the qofte (kofta) in bread cooked over a coal barbecue by a one-man show at Te Met Kodra. I must have been in the queue for about an hour waiting to finally place our order, which kept increasing in size with every stomach rumble. The reward was worth the wait though, and we wasted no time in demolishing the salty snacks, barbecued to perfection. Other dishes of note included the oily and spicy Kosovo sausage in a white bean stew, and a strangely satisfying baked lamb and yoghurt casserole that we enjoyed as part of our evening meals in Tirana.
Te Met Kodra
Qofte
Kosovo sausage
Lamb in yoghurt
Summary
If I had to grade Sarandë, Gjirokastër and Tirana on scales of delicious food and city vibes, I think it would look something like this:
While I’m not sure we’ll find a reason to revisit Sarandë, both Gjirokastër and Tirana excelled on their food, with Gjirokastër just pipping Tirana to the post with its delightful old-town vibes. I’m amazed how different all three of the stops turned out to be, and I’m so glad we decided to break the journey in Gjirokastër – especially since we nearly skipped it altogether!
After a slightly manic four days in Albania, we increased the tempo further by allowing ourselves just 48 hours to cross Montenegro 😬
We celebrated one year on the road by taking our longest ‘break’ yet – staying a whole six nights in one place! Katie (my sister) and her husband Andy had invited us to join them for part of their summer holiday in a quiet corner of northern Corfu. A minor children-to-bedrooms counting error meant that there wasn’t quite room for us in the villa, but they weren’t getting rid of us that easily, so we stayed in a very peaceful little studio just down the road and spent our days freeloading from the villa-dwellers.
To be honest, we spent the vast majority of our time on Corfu eating baklava (I wanted Katie to do a guest post on her tasting notes but she kept eating them before we’d had a chance to take a photo!) but we did manage to clean the honey off our sticky paws for long enough to do a couple of activities…
The 14-minute monastery visit
Mum had visited Corfu on a cruise when she was 15 years old and recalled that the view from the Monastery of Paleokastritsa, which is perched on a rocky headland, was absolutely magical. Unfortunately, in the intervening years there has been quite a lot of development along this coastline and it took us rather longer than expected to get there. So, true to form, we screeched into the carpark at 12.46, knowing that the monastery would shut for the afternoon in just 14 minutes. No matter, Oli and I thought – we’ve explored monasteries in literally half this time! It didn’t help that the church and museum had closed early, but we still managed to admire the flower-filled courtyards and see the view down to the turquoise sea below, which was just as gorgeous as billed.
On our way back, we stopped at a viewpoint for an ice cream and an absolutely epic panoramic view of the coastline. Corfu is incredibly mountainous, which does make for some slightly hairy driving conditions, but it is so beautiful as a result.
The boat trip
Last time we were in Corfu (also as a family), we hired a boat for the day and had the most hilariously disastrous time that we still cry with laughter when reminiscing about it. Short of sinking the boat, pretty much everything else went wrong, including losing all the lifejackets off the back of the boat, getting caught in the wind and veering dangerously close to the Rothschilds’ yacht, leaving a crew member behind while a restaurant full of judgy boaty-types looked on, and dredging the harbour with our anchor.
We were roughly evenly split between those who thought we’d come a long way since then (with very little evidence of why this might be, may I say) and those of us who were convinced that our luck would run out this time and we might actually sink the boat.
We set sail from Agios Stefanos with a new captain (Andy – Dad had demoted himself to the rank of Ship’s Dog this time) and headed up the coast to The White House, famous as being the Durrells’ house (of My Family and Other Animals fame).
We still got laughed at by people dining at The White House as we moored there for lunch (but this time for dropping just one life jacket in the sea – they should have seen us last time), but otherwise, the day was glorious and almost incident-free!
The seafood feast
Oli are I aren’t big seafood eaters, but we hate to miss out on local specialities, so we tagged along on an evening expedition to a place simply known as the fish restaurant (at least among us – it turns out it did have an actual name!). There was no menu; instead we were invited into the kitchen to pick from the catch of the day, which would then be prepared for us and served with some simple (read: very generous) side dishes.
Of course, we got totally carried away and selected a genuinely enormous seabass to share, plus a couple of squid just because they looked good.
By the time we’d gorged on the plates of fried whitebait and baskets of fresh bread served with local olive oil that were brought out as a complimentary starter, we were filling up and more than a little apprehensive about what was to come. In the end, though, it was some of the best fish I’ve ever eaten, and between us we very nearly did it justice.
We couldn’t believe it when they told us that the seabass had been prepared with no salt or pepper – it tasted so perfectly seasoned, but we concluded that must have been the salt from the sea doing a great job. When the lovely staff brought us a complimentary dessert (a tenet of Greek hospitality that still somehow takes us by surprise every time), we were in real trouble and there were some very full bellies that evening.
The pool party
William turned six while we were in Corfu, so naturally he had a pool party to celebrate. This included activities such as pin the tail on the donkey (which resulted in no injuries except to the donkey), and a water fight (which resulted in so many injuries to both teams that we had to set up a field hospital).
Unfortunately, the kids’ diving competition had to be cancelled because the adults got slightly carried away by a lilo surfing display. Even though everyone agreed that this was a recipe for disaster, the display continued to chants of “Lilo surf! Lilo surf!” until the lilo had had enough of the abuse and abruptly burst in the pool.
Katie was still lamenting the loss of her new lilo when we realised with horror that it was spilling millions of tiny, sparkly confetti into the pool. The villa’s owner had made very clear that we should be really careful not to put anything into the pool in case the filter blocked, so we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening armed with nets, brooms, sieves, colanders, and (my favourite) a tea strainer trying to clear up the mess we’d made. We actually got most of it, but we all agreed that any undue good fortune we’d had in not sinking our boat a few days ago had well and truly run out today!
The next morning, Oli and I were due to leave, which seemed like excellent timing given the villa’s owner was due to come round for daily pool maintenance and would surely spot the pesky last few pieces of confetti. In the end, he said it wasn’t a problem and instead recounted a tale of how previous guests had deliberately poured spaghetti bolognese into the pool! But by this point, we’d skipped the country and were on a ferry bound for Albania…
