Saranda – Butrint 10th July 2001
To Albania, by the ‘Flying Dolphin’ Sant II from Corfu town – so near and so far. Saranda, a dusty, sun-bleached little port (named for the 40 saints who were supposed to live nearby) backed by rising tiers of flats that looked deceptively cheerful and inviting decked with laundry dancing in the sun.
We had iced coffee overlooking the sea, while a teller behind a folding table changed drachmas for leke – next to him children sold embroidered handkerchiefs in an act of commercial symbiosis. We headed south along Butrint Lake to the archaeological remains of the Roman City of the same name, a route taking in the fecundity of the lush green valley floor and the barrenness of the sun bleached hills. At ancient Butrint hoopoes and orioles called from the trees and terrapins nudged their way through the reeds in the pool at the bottom of the amphitheater.
Our guide, Wassily (an ex-teacher, who guides in the summer and prepares in the winter) told us about his country. One of the oldest Balkan civilizations, Albania was ruled by the Ottoman Turks for 500 years. Gaining independence in November 1912, there followed near 90 years of chaotic government: early short-term alliances; the rule of King Zog (1928-1939); invasion by the Italians in 1939 followed by Nazi control in 1943; then various forms on one party communist state and a period of isolationism. They are trying to make something of the country after the coming of democracy in 1990 and the fall of communism in 1991. Officially atheist for 23 years up to 1990, there is now freedom of religion, with the county notionally 60% Moslem, 30% Orthodox 10% Catholic. The Albanian language is an independent branch of the Indo-European family.
The climate is good – average of eight hours sun a day, ideal for tourism: the concrete skeletons of future business expectations were rising along the roads. Wasilly was a realist about this. ‘You will see a lot of signs of investment everywhere. We have just had an election and politicians seem to think that’s a good time to spend money.’ Adding with a wry smile, ‘Maybe you see that yourselves at home?’
He spoke with pride and optimism while painting a complex, often conflicted, picture. On the streets there is a preponderance of big 1980s Mercedes cars. He explained that all cars face the same taxes and duties, hence it is as cheap to get a big one as a small one, and added with a smile, ‘Mercedes are very good at coping with our roads.’ And so it proved: late in the afternoon we jumped into a beat-up Merc taxi with a swarthy bandit driver and raced, heedless of bumps and potholes, to see the Blue Eye at Muzine.