If you’re thinking of exploring this rich and varied country, go now.

Albania, April 2023. I arrived into Albania by crossing the border on foot from the southern tip of Lake Ohrid in North Macedonia on Good Friday. My travelling companions were Liverpool’s very own Dan, and two Sicilian comrades sporting bandannas, all plucked from my Ohrid hostel’s social circle the prior evening. We’d agreed that morning to walk the crossing together, so after a short minibus ride to St Naum monastery to see the peacocks and faded frescoes, we began our journey.

I wasn’t sure how we were going to get there, but trusted we’d find our way. We walked past a field with rows of identikit 1960s battered old caravans — forlorn relics of a bygone era — an unwitting testament to the MOD’s legacy during Albania’s regime days. Up a hill and round a bend and then all of a sudden we were at the border. It was that easy, or so we thought.

The border was empty, save for one bored official manning a booth. Surprised to see a motley crew of foreigners making their way towards him, he perked up, welcomed us with a warm smile and stamped our passports (this was the quickest crossing I’d made in the whole Balkans). Then he waved us on our way.

“How much further?” I ventured to ask Dan.

“Oh, just over there, see that dot on the horizon? That’s Pogradec. From there we can take a bus to Tirana.”

This seemed miles away, but Dan assured me it was only a few kilometres. I braced myself for the hike. But then the Gods were smiling on us that day. Up ahead in the distance, was a small figure. As we got a little closer, I realised it was a solitary gentleman leaning casually on the bonnet of his rather vintage-looking BMW with red leather seats. Not quite believing my eyes, it was as if destiny had summoned him expressly for our benefit.

“Përshëndetje, a keni nevojë për një udhëtim?” he asked. (Hi, do you need a ride?)

“Yes, please! Falimenderit!” We chorused.

We struck a deal. He offered to drive us all into the town for 10 euros total, so naturally we all jumped in – Dan in the front, me in the back, squashed between the two Sicilians, who looked a little unsure of the arrangement. We sped off down a road, which, as it was still being built, meant dodging JCB diggers and workmen in ripped jeans, and having gravel whipped up around the windows. All the while the Albanian driver cranked up the volume to “Tom’s Diner”, and I sang along, the lyrics known only to me.

Albania was a dream come true. A feast for the eyes and ears, for sure, but it was the kindness and warmth of the people that struck me most. Like an arrow to the heart. I was yet to experience the full effect of the country, as that was all yet to come. And I’ve been back many times since. 

Part two coming.

If you’re a normal person and flying Into Tirana, here is the newest bus timetable to take you into the city centre.