After just under three hours, the bus from Pogradec pulled into Tirana bus station shortly after 1pm. We knew it was going to be hot. I’d been watching the weather for a while and we’d even extended our stay by the lake for an extra night to limit our time in the city.

It was another thirty minute taxi ride to our apartment in Blloku, now one of Tirana’s trendiest areas, full of good restaurants, bars and cafés. It’s quite a transformation considering that, until 1991, the area was the heavily guarded political heart of the city, reserved for Albania’s communist elite.

Nearby is Skanderbeg Square, surrounded by a mix of old communist and more modern buildings. At its centre stands the imposing statue of Skanderbeg himself, astride his horse, the legendary fifteenth century military leader who led the Albanian resistance against the Ottoman Empire and remains the country’s most celebrated national hero.

The following morning we decided to surrender to the city heat and escape up the mountain instead, courtesy of the Dajti cable car. It takes about fifteen minutes to travel the five kilometres up to what is known as Tirana’s balcony, where thankfully it was around seven or eight degrees cooler.

The views across the city and beyond were impressive. We took a stroll around the top, but were equally happy to find a shady spot beneath a tree and simply sit there admiring the view for a couple of hours.

We decided to make our descent when dark clouds began rolling over the mountains, accompanied by wind and thunder, which made Rachel a little nervous about being suspended in a cable car.

The heat has always bothered Rachel more than me, so after a very late lunch we retreated to the air conditioning of the apartment and called it a day.

On Sunday we decided to get some steps in, walking around the lake beneath its welcome canopy of trees before heading to a great little coffee shop we’d discovered the day before. It also happened to serve what Rachel declared were the best pistachio-filled croissants she had ever tasted.

Rachel had plenty of work to do afterwards, so I amused myself wandering around the markets until eventually conceding defeat when I started to melt.

Monday brought our Albanian adventure to an end. The country had far exceeded my expectations. We had really enjoyed the hospitality and, once again, it was the people we met along the way who made much of the experience so memorable.

Our flight left Tirana and landed on time in Vienna. Rachel passed through immigration without delay and, after a short train ride, we arrived at Vienna’s main station with plenty of time for our onward journey to St Anton.

We were essentially about to traverse Austria from east to west. Knowing it would be a long journey, I’d booked us comfortable seats so we could both get a few things done along the way.

The first part of the journey was fairly uneventful as we travelled across wide stretches of flat countryside. Gradually the landscape began to change. Flatlands gave way to rolling hills, which in turn gave way to mountains as we entered the Tyrol.

Then came the final climb towards St Anton.

Around six hours after leaving Vienna, we stepped off the train to find Rachel G waiting for us with a big smile.

Albania was behind us and another adventure was about to begin.

Pogradec has a completely different vibe. Life is slower and, at least where we are, much quieter. It’s cooler too, topping out at around 30 degrees during the day and dropping into the mid-teens at night.

We’ve come for the lake, and it doesn’t disappoint. Lake Ohrid is the deepest lake in the Balkans, the water is crystal clear and, at this time of year, a perfect temperature for swimming.

We surrendered our first weekend to recovering from whatever it was we had brought with us from Vlore, which in hindsight was probably no bad thing.

To reach the lake, we walk through about fifty metres of trees that line the waterfront. Every morning there’s a small army of municipal workers watering them and tending to the colourful flowers along the streets, all of which look incredibly healthy. Just before the water there’s a promenade where local farmers come to sell their produce.

The lake is shallow around the edges before gradually dropping away and, once you’re out there, it’s pretty much just you and the cormorants. It’s incredibly peaceful.

We’re usually out until around midday, then retreat from the heat before emerging again at about eight for an evening stroll.

We’ve also taken the bikes out a few times to explore. In one direction we cycled through Tushemisht as far as the border with North Macedonia, and in the other we made it about halfway to Lin, following the cycle paths along the lake.

For a proper trip around Lake Ohrid, though, we had to wait for Ilya to return from a family holiday.

We left early with a full day ahead of us. Our first stop was Tushemisht, where we wandered through the old town, something we had completely missed on the bikes, followed by a walk through the nearby national park. Both were wonderfully peaceful early in the morning.

From there we crossed the border into North Macedonia. The country is landlocked, so Lake Ohrid is understandably a big draw, particularly for people coming down from Skopje and indeed elsewhere in the country. Tourism on this side of the lake feels a little more established and polished, but honestly, we prefer the Albanian side.

Our next stop was Galicia National Park and the Byzantine Monastery of St Naum, close to one of the crystal-clear springs that feeds the lake. From there we continued around the shoreline towards the city of Ohrid.

We headed up into the old town, wandering through its narrow streets and taking in the architecture before stopping for a quick bite to eat.

We stopped briefly in Struga to see where the waters of Lake Ohrid flow into the Black Drin River. Interestingly, they still use wooden boards to regulate the lake level, simply adding or removing them to control the amount of water flowing into the river. Then it was back across the border into Albania for our final stop of the day, the small lakeside village of Lin. We took a quiet walk around its windswept peninsula before setting off again, driving into the setting sun as we made our way back towards Pogradec.

After the heat and bustle of the coast, Lake Ohrid has felt like a change of pace altogether.

It’s a pretty special place.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, buses in Albania are something of a dark art, and Vlorë was no exception. Armed with what could only be described as a treasure map, we decided we needed to establish two things. Firstly, where the buses actually left from and secondly, whether there really was a 7am bus to Pogradec the following morning.

So, armed with my trusty bloodhound, off we went. As Rachel is happy to tell anyone who will listen, my internal compass is broken and I tend to rely more on chance. This approach does not work for her.

We jumped on the Eco bus and headed into town until Rachel decided it was time to get off. The bus station, which wasn’t really a bus station at all, turned out to be little more than a stretch of road leading out of the city.

Rachel immediately began quizzing a couple of guys, launching into an explanation of what we were looking for, only to discover when she finally paused for breath that they were passengers too. After questioning a few actual drivers, we established that there really was a direct bus to Pogradec leaving at either 7am or 7:30am, depending on who you asked.

The following morning Rachel wasn’t feeling great, but assured me she would be fine, so we arrived just after 6am. We’d been told to get there early if we wanted a good seat.

At around 7:30am, after a few false starts, we were finally underway.

The bus had certainly seen better days. There was no air conditioning and, sitting directly behind the driver, I had a rather unnerving view of a dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. Ten minutes into the journey he pulled over and lifted the bonnet, which did nothing to ease my concerns. He didn’t appear particularly worried though. He simply sat back down and lit a cigarette.

If I’m honest, that didn’t surprise me. Of all the places we’ve travelled, no one, and I mean no one, seems to smoke quite as much as the Albanians.

About three hours into the journey, Rachel, who is prepared for almost every eventuality, calmly produced a plastic bag and proceeded to fill it with what we later decided was the result of some bad watermelon. I didn’t even know you could get bad watermelon.

Nobody on the bus seemed to notice, or care. I couldn’t quite work out which.

Thankfully, about thirty minutes later the bus stopped and we were able to dispose of the evidence. The good news was that Rachel immediately declared herself to be feeling much better.

We eventually arrived in Pogradec at around 1pm after a bus journey I hope never to repeat. From there we made our way to our apartment beside beautiful Lake Ohrid, where the temperature had dropped considerably following the rain.

Later that evening, it was my turn to embrace the bowl.

Wow, what a day.

We’re laughing about it now, so it’s all good.

The minibus, complete with air conditioning thankfully, arrived just after 8:15am to take us off for another day of exploring.

Our first stop was St Mary’s Monastery, which sits on Zvërnec Island, surrounded by the Narta Lagoon. Apparently, it is stunning in spring when the lagoon is home to all sorts of waterbirds and flamingos. In the middle of summer, though, it looks more like a swamp, teeming with crabs.

You reach the monastery via a 270 metre wooden walkway that snakes its way across the lagoon to the small island. The Byzantine church behind the monastery is still in use, although the monastery itself is not. During the summer months, however, it is used as a camp for underprivileged children, which was great to see.

There are not as many archaeological sites to visit in Albania as you might expect. The belief is that there are still plenty waiting to be discovered, but after decades of isolation and with limited funding available for excavation, much remains hidden.

Apollonia is a good example. It is considered one of the most important archaeological sites in the Balkans, yet only around ten percent has been uncovered, with little prospect of further excavation unless outside funding becomes available.

As with so many ancient sites, its location is spectacular, with almost uninterrupted views in every direction. The only problem was the lack of trees to protect us from temperatures approaching 40 degrees. We did not spend as much time there as I would have liked, but it is one of those places where what remains hidden leaves plenty to the imagination, which I always find thought provoking.

Our final stop was quite a bit further away in Berat, somewhere Rachel had particularly wanted to see.

It is known as the City of a Thousand Windows, although in truth there are considerably more than that. It is not really about the number of windows anyway. What makes Berat so striking are the traditional Ottoman houses seemingly stacked on top of one another on either side of the river. As we have learned, the Ottomans certainly liked a window.

Historically, one side of the river was predominantly Muslim and the other Christian, while high above them both sits Berat Castle. Much of it is now in ruins, although people still live within its walls today, looking out across both sides of the city below.

Sadly, the heat made it difficult to spend as much time there as we would have liked, but it was no less impressive for it.

After a late lunch, we began the journey back to Vlore. Our guide was determined to get us there in time to catch the sunset over the city, but we missed it by a matter of minutes.

Still, Vlore had already spoilt us with some incredible sunsets, so we could hardly complain.

Public transport here is something of a dark art. In fact, it would probably be easier to say there isn’t really a public transport system at all. Instead, there’s a network of buses in every conceivable shape and size and, if you’re lucky, one might even have air conditioning.

The timetables are, at best, a rough guide, and there are very few official bus stops. Instead, there are meeting points that, unless you ask a local, you would never find.

I could have taken a taxi, but I was feeling a bit mean and, besides, it was time to experience local transport.

Our new host had contacted the coach driver, who confirmed he had room for us and agreed to pick us up on the far side of a petrol station hidden away not far from where we were staying. He would call when the coach travelling up from Sarande was getting close to Himare.

We still had time that morning for one last swim, which felt like the perfect way to leave.

The green bus we had been told to look out for turned out to be white, but we flagged it down anyway and, thankfully, it was ours.

The three hour journey, including a thirty minute comfort break, was comfortable enough, helped by working air conditioning. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the apartment waiting for us.

We’ve been travelling long enough to know exactly what we’re looking for and always double-check the important details with the host before booking. So arriving to discover there was no air conditioning in the bedroom, which in this heat is essential, together with clutter that hadn’t appeared in the photographs, was disappointing.

I suppose we were due a bad one. This was the first time in almost five years that somewhere simply hadn’t met our expectations.

We decided it wasn’t for us and immediately started looking for somewhere else to stay. Without knowing the area, and with the day slipping away, it could easily have become stressful. Fortunately, luck was on our side. I found another apartment and, despite a few language difficulties with our Belarusian host, we arranged a viewing.

Within an hour we had moved into a much nicer apartment that was, incredibly, considerably cheaper. We then left Airbnb to sort out the refund with our previous host, who wasn’t especially keen to return our money.

Vlorë feels very different to both Sarande and Himare. It is much larger and marks our arrival on to the Adriatic coast. The beach here is sandy, although I suspect much of it is man made. My first impression was that I wasn’t sure about the place at all, but after a week we had both begun to really like it.

Our morning routine has remained much the same. I tend to drift through the backstreets picking up food during the day, but mostly staying indoors until the sun begins to lose its strength. Then the promenade comes alive. People of all ages emerge for an evening stroll, while the many tasteful restaurants along the waterfront begin welcoming diners. People eat late here.

We’ve also spent time exploring the city itself. There are post-communist apartment blocks sitting alongside more modern and eclectic buildings. Somehow it all works and has a character of its own. There is even a small section of the old town, now beautifully restored, although it amounts to little more than a single street.

I never tire of watching the sun go down, and Vlorë has rewarded us with some truly memorable sunsets.

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Our guide from Gjirokaster had very kindly found us a reasonably priced transfer to our next destination, Himare. Our host was also kind enough to allow us a late checkout, which gave us time for one final swim and the chance to say goodbye to Barbara and Mendu, who had given up on fishing for the day and instead wanted to talk about the Belgian football team.

There do not appear to be many roads along the southern coast. Ours followed the SH8, hugging the coastline as it twisted and turned its way north. Once you leave the main towns behind, the countryside becomes incredibly green and surprisingly rural.

We had seen very little rain since arriving in Albania, but as we drove through the small village above Borsh and began our descent towards the coast, the rain started to fall. It is always a little unnerving driving beneath unprotected cliff faces. Rain loosens the rocks and there was plenty of evidence that they occasionally find their way onto the road. In one place, part of the it had already disappeared down the hillside.

By the time we arrived in Himare, the sun was shining once again.

Our apartment is a little smaller than the last one, but it has everything we need, together with wonderful views across the headland and Potami Beach, which was one of the main reasons we chose to come here.

Himare is quieter than Sarande, which was beginning to get much busier by the time we left. Then again, July and August are busy almost everywhere.

Potami Beach is quite unusual because two freshwater springs flow into the sea, one at either end of the beach. Stepping into the water there is like climbing into an ice bath. As you swim through the colder water, you can almost feel your senses sharpening. It is invigorating rather than uncomfortable.

Since arriving in Albania, we seem to have made it our mission to find the best places to swim, and so far Himare is at the top of the list. The beach is made of smooth pebbles rather than sand, and together with the constant flow of freshwater, the sea is beautifully clear.

It becomes too hot to do very much during the afternoon. There was a time when we would happily have stayed out in it all day, but now we retreat to the apartment and the air conditioning before heading back out for an evening walk.

We have also discovered a wonderful little restaurant tucked away beneath the shade of olive trees called Stolis Taverna, where we have already eaten several times.

The promenade is about a fifteen minute walk away, with cafés, bars and restaurants lining the waterfront opposite the small harbour.

Life has been wonderfully relaxed here, and we have both enjoyed slowing things down.

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People often ask me which has been my favourite place that we’ve visited. I never really know how to answer. I don’t want to sound blasé or ungrateful for the life we’re fortunate enough to be living, because I’m neither. We’ve been lucky enough to see and stay in some truly beautiful places, far too many to mention. But the longer we travel, the more I realise it’s the people we meet who bring those places back into focus.

The swimming has been great here. We head down early every morning and, apart from the swimmers, there are always the fishermen. Some stand patiently with rods and reels, while the more interesting ones, at least to me, stand on the sandbar with large nets draped over their shoulders, expertly casting them into the sea. Each is completely absorbed in their own pursuit.

We’ve found Albanians to be a little guarded when you first meet them, but once you get to know them they soon open up.

I first got chatting to Mendu after coming in from a swim. He wanted a few tips on improving his front crawl, which, to be honest, wasn’t bad at all. I simply told him to relax a little more in the water. Before long we had moved on to fishing, a subject he was far more knowledgeable and enthusiastic about than I could ever hope to be.

Mendu and his wife, Barbara, are Albanians who now live in Belgium but return home for a few months each year. It wasn’t long before we were putting the world to rights. Rachel and Barbara got on like a house on fire.

The couple were thinking about making some changes to their holiday apartment, so I mentioned that they were welcome to come and have a look at ours for a few ideas. They said they would pop in for fifteen minutes.

Rachel has always been our social secretary, and I generally do as I’m told. So she sent me off to buy a good bottle of Albanian wine while she went to ask our barista what an Albanian host would typically serve to welcome guests for an evening drink.

Mendu also arrived bearing a gift, an interesting piece of driftwood that he had transformed into a small work of art. It now has a place amongst the few possessions we still keep.

After a quick drink, our guests, both proud Albanians, suggested showing us a little more of the area.

Our first stop was Lekuresi Castle, high above Sarandë, where the views across the Ionian Sea were spectacular. Straight ahead lay Corfu, to the left Lake Butrint, Sarande and Ksamil, and to the right the Corfu Strait stretching into the distance.

The restaurant at the castle, we were told, was nothing special, so instead they suggested driving on to Ksamil. We had passed through it before but never stopped to see the famous stretch of coastline that appears in almost every Albanian holiday brochure.

After parking the car, they led us to one of their favourite restaurants. Fifteen years earlier they had been the restaurant’s very first customers. The food was excellent and the setting was every bit as special.

During the day, Ksamil has a relaxed, upmarket feel, a little like Ibiza. By night it transforms into a lively party town. Given the chance, I think Barbara and Rachel would happily have danced until the early hours, had it not been for their two ageing husbands.

The fifteen minute visit turned into a wonderful evening with new friends, all because of a chance conversation after an early morning swim.

I don’t typically like using guides, as I prefer to see places through my own eyes rather than someone else’s. But we had used Get Your Guide in South America and found them to be very good, and with getting around here a little tricky without a car, we decided to use them again.

We left the apartment at 9:30am to meet our pickup. There were four of us on the trip, an Australian couple and ourselves, plus our guide, a young lady who turned out to be excellent. It probably took all of ten minutes before everyone clicked. Our Aussie companions were great fun and easy company.

Our first stop was just over an hour from Sarandë. The journey itself was part of the attraction, taking us along a relatively new stretch of road that apparently did not exist last year. There is a big push to improve the infrastructure here and things are changing quickly. Apartment blocks seem to be springing up everywhere too, but I suppose that is progress.

The road took us through open countryside and over mountain ranges before bringing us to the pretty little town of Gjirokaster. From there we climbed up to the impressive castle that sits above the town. Perhaps oddly, as you enter the castle you are greeted by an array of anti-aircraft guns. No one seems to know exactly where Hoxha acquired them, but they were brought here as a show of strength, along with the American training aircraft that sits in the courtyard. Thankfully, I was able to look past all that, as the views from the castle were magnificent.

From there we made our way down into the old town, stopping first to take a look inside one of the underground shelters built during the dark days of Hoxha’s rule. As a result of his paranoia, there are thought to be as many as 750,000 bunkers scattered across the country, much to the detriment of the people. This one was about eighty metres long and could accommodate around 250 people, although like most of them it was never used. To be honest, I couldn’t wait to get out. I kept imagining the whole thing caving in.

Lunch was an authentic Albanian affair, which we enjoyed with our Australian friends. There was plenty of laughter before we headed off to Syri i Kalter, the Blue Eye.

It really is mesmerising. The water is an incredible shade of blue that seems almost to glow. Adding to the mystery, no one knows quite how deep it is. It forms the source of the Bistrice River, which we look out on from our apartment, and pumps out more than 18,000 litres of water every second.

It is a bit of a tourist trap, but it was worth the visit for the colour of the water alone.

We had some very hot weather in the UK and anyone who lives there will tell you that temperatures above 30 degrees are just a tad too warm. The houses simply are not built for it. Most are carpeted throughout and air conditioning still feels a little hard to justify, although I have been thinking about getting a couple of portable units for my mum.
With night-time temperatures stuck in the mid-twenties for a fifth consecutive night, and after yet another sleepless one ourselves, we boarded a morning flight to Corfu. Just over three hours later we were disembarking and heading through immigration. Fortunately, we were able to sidestep the long queues, with me quietly ushering Rachel through the empty Schengen line. It does not always work, but Greece has reverted to manual passport checks, so on this occasion it did.
We had toyed with staying in Corfu, the place where it all started for Rachel and me. More than forty years ago we arrived for a two-week holiday and ended up staying for three months. Instead, I managed to secure the last two seats on a small hydrofoil across to Sarande, at the southern tip of Albania.
About thirty minutes later we were stepping off the boat and into the back of a taxi heading to our new home for a while.
The apartment is not the biggest place we have ever stayed in, but it is comfortable and, being first line to the sea, the views are hypnotic. To our left, a freshwater Bistrice River runs down from an underground source in the mountains and empties into the Ionian Sea, with Corfu forming the backdrop beyond. We have also discovered our new swim spot, which is only a short walk from the apartment.
There is not a huge amount going on here, but there is enough. In truth, we have come to slow down and recharge.
The local bus remains something of a mystery. After watching it pull away and then waiting another hour for it to reappear, we finally jumped on and headed about twenty kilometres south to the World Heritage Site of Butrint National Park. More specifically, we had come to explore the archaeological park. It is also the end of the line, which meant there was no danger of me getting off at the wrong stop, something I have managed to do before.
The park is surrounded by water, namely Lake Butrint and a series of inlets that provide a haven for birdlife. Corfu sits just across the channel. The ruins themselves contain layers of Greek, Roman, Byzantine and Venetian history. The site has not yet been fully excavated, but what has been uncovered is interesting. So too was the walk around the site beneath a canopy of tall trees, which on a hot summer’s day was very welcome indeed.

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