The mountains of northern Albania

A hundred years ago, when Edith Durham travelled through the mountains of northern Albania, the world she described in her book, ‘High Albania’, was one in which there were no roads, just tracks, some of which could not be passed on horseback, let alone by any kind of vehicle. It was a world in which only the priests could read or write. And though the Catholic mountain people were devoted to the symbols of their Church, it was the Kanun – code – of Lek Dukagjin that held sway over their lives, and the honour code of the blood feud, which substituted for the lack of any effective state institutions.

This remarkable Edwardian woman dragged herself up mountain passes and along cliff ledges; she ate and slept in the primitive houses of the region, listening to the stories of the men, and sometimes women (for she generally ate with the men, not the women, who grubbed up the leftover scraps of the men, and were treated as little more than chattels, their role to bear male children and serve the family of their in-laws). Hospitality was sacred for the mountain people, and, though often poor, they gave her the best that they could.

Valbona

So much has changed now. The valley of the Valbona, close to Bajram Curri, a mainly Moslem region, is now a national park. It is rapidly being developed for tourism, mainly for visitors from Albania and nearby Kosovo, as well as a smattering of westerners. Wooden hotels and restaurants in a style that looks more like Scandinavia than the Balkans are being erected by families with the right political connections in Bajram Curri (construction in Albania depends on political patronage). The scent of money and opportunity is in the air Many of the traditional stone houses have been left to fall into decay, as have the barracks for an abandoned military base, placed here due to the proximity of the Yugoslav (now Montenegrin) border. The natural beauty of the place is spectacular, the mountains rising up on all sides. Driving into the valley, the villages of stone houses dotted around the verdant slopes have great charm.

The day we visited, a minor American film star of partly Albanian descent, Eliza Dushku (she was in ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’), was in the region, as part of a tour of Albania to help promote tourism. We saw her greeted by the head of Valbona commune together with a troop of traditional Tropoje dancers. She gamesomely joined in the fun, while the cameras whirred. Valbona is going to be developed further. One can only hope that it will be done with sensitivity and respect for the nature and the local traditions and styles.

Theth

Just across a mountain pass from Valbona is the valley of Theth, a Catholic area, also a national park. Part of Shkoder region, Theth can only be reached from Valbona by a tough climb over the mountains. The only road is from Shkoder, which in its higher reaches becomes a rocky track, unsuitable for vehicles less robust than a four-by-four or the sturdy little furgons (minivans) that push their way up, although some adventurous cyclists make the journey too.

Edith Durham was much taken with Theth, which she described as “a grandly wild spot”. She wrote of the valley that “great isolated boulders are scattered over it, on which stand kullas.” A kulla is the traditional tower that was the home and castle of mountain families, with tiny slit windows from which it could be defended from enemies. In such homes extended families lived in Durham’s time, and owed absolute obedience to the head of the household, the house lord. Many older houses remain. Some have been abandoned, but others have been renovated, some with red corrugated iron roofs in place of the traditional stone ones. The little church at one end of the valley has been restored. Durham would have been heartened by the fact that a school now stands in the heart of the village.

Not far from the church stands a traditional lock-out kulla, where men once took refuge to escape from blood feuds. Even now, as a tourist attraction, it seems a bleak and forbidding place. When Durham visited, the mountain tribes were in a state of near-constant feud, with their neighbours and within the tribe itself. The writer Ismail Kadare wrote about one such tower in his novel ‘Broken April’. Blood feuds have made a comeback since the end of communist rule, though mercifully not on their previous, all-pervasive scale. Travelling through Valbona, our local driver pointed out two houses whose occupants were in feud with a nearby family. Two people had been killed already. The men of the two houses dared not go out except at night, and the police apparently stayed clear of the matter. Most local people, he averred, still approved of revenge killings. The primitive call of honour continued to exert a pull in the villages.

Lock-out kulla, Theth

Many of the houses in Theth now take in guests. The conditions can be fairly basic. The village has for some time been without an electricity supply. At the place I stayed, a generator was switched on for a couple of hours in the evening. Hot water for washing came in a bucket that could be ladled over the body for a primitive shower. But this is nothing compared to the conditions experienced by Edith Durham on her travels, where the living area of a house frequently consisted of one large room, where she slept with all the family, and on occasion animals as well. Nevertheless, the warmth and hospitality with which she was everywhere received delighted her.

Nowadays, the guesthouses in Theth are commercial operations. The hosts have satellite television, and some of them speak English. But some of the spirit and charm Durham witnessed remains. Most of the food served is local produce, including home-baked bread, wine, butter, honey, and utterly delicious fig jam. Homemade fig jam featured on the breakfast menu in most of the places I stayed in Albania. It was wonderful. One still has the feeling of staying with a family, from the old lady, with her hair dyed jet black and worn long, topped by a light scarf, in the local style, who smiled benevolently at her guests (when not shooing away the hens or the family cow from the front of the house), to the little children who ran around throughout the day, and greeted me each morning and evening, telling me their names.

Theth too is surely going to experience further tourist development, including a tarmacked road that will bring in greater numbers of visitors, a reliable electricity supply, new hotels, shops etc. The wilderness that Durham wrote about is being overtaken by the modern world. As with Valbona, one hopes it will be done sensitively. Perhaps, away from these national parks, some unfrequented, more truly wild places will remain for a time.