The Irony is not Lost on Me

Last week I posted about my aborted attempt to reach Kaninë Castle for fear of rain. Today, I decided to have another go! I had finished all my grading yesterday. The forecast called for sunshine with cool but not cold temperatures.

The castle is, as the crow or the two-headed eagle flies, only 3 kilometers away from where we are living. That's about 1.86 miles. Not far at all. Okay, well, you can't walk there in 3 km. You would have to go straight up the steep side of a wooded mountain. Or is the steep wooded side of a mountain? Or the wooded side of a steep mountain? Let's play it safe. You'd have to go up the steep, wooded side of a steep, wooded mountain. Yes, it's overkill, but hopefully it gives you a better image in your mind. If you care, the name of the mountain is Shushicë.

One of the higher parts of the castle

The path up is 4.7 km (which is very close to three miles.) I normally walk about three miles per hour. But this particular walk is quite a bit uphill, so I can't make it in an hour.

Below is Vlorë and Vlorë Bay

I made the assumption that someplace which is within a two mile radius of where I'm staying would have the same weather as the place I'm staying. The weather for Vlorë was forecast as sunny and mild. It has to be the same in Kaninë, right?

Wrong. Honestly, I should know better. I lived in Reno and I know how changes in elevation can dramatically change the weather experienced by locations not that far apart. But I assumed all would be fine. And you know what happens when you assume? It's the same, more or less, as when you suppose.

The East Gate, a tower, and where you would pay if anyone were there

It rained on me while I was at the castle. And yes, I see how ironic this is. Last week, I turned back for fear of rain, this week I forged ahead believing I was rain-immune and found out my immunity had been revoked. Not to fret. Let me assuage your fears and start with the good news. This was not a heavy rain. Heavier than spritzing, lighter than pattering. Maybe a robust sprinkling is the best way to describe it. I was wearing my ugly hat, which kept my hair and my eyeglasses dry. I also happened to be in my quick-dry shirt and my quick-dry pants. That wasn't by design, but when you only own four tops and three bottoms, it isn't an insignificant chance that you will be in any particular outfit. By the time I got back down the mountain and into Vlorë—which was quite sunny— my clothing was all dry again.

Now I am going to tell you about one interlude in my trek up the mountain. When Alrica reads this, I am expecting one of three reactions.

• A lecture
• A look
• A shrug
  

Honestly, I'm not sure which one I am going to get. But allow me to describe the whole situation. At the edge of Vlorë, right at the end of the Rruga Bej Vlora-Kanina (or the Vlorë-Kaninë Road) there is a fountain. I don't mean a fountain with carved spitting fish or jumping water. I also don't mean a drinking fountain as in the kind we have in the United States. Take a look at the picture. This is a structure from which clean water is always running. There is no on-off spigot, it just keeps flowing. But it is clean city water. And people who live up the mountain and don't have their own water come down to this spot, park their car at the side of the road, and fill ten liter containers to then bring home.

Kaninë Fountain

Today, when I was passing the fountain, there was an older man filling his ten liter containers. We nodded to one another, nods being a universal language. I mention this interaction for a reason.

I continued past and started up (quite literally) the road. About twenty minutes later, there is a honk from a car coming from behind me, from the direction of Vlorë. It's the man I saw at the fountain. And he stops in a lane of traffic (not that this is a super busy road) and beckons for me to come into the car. I shake my head no and he beckons more.

So what do you do? That's your call. Better question: What did I do? I decided, okay, I'm getting in the car with him. Now, before you judge, let me lay out my case.

First, I'm male. It's not fair, it's not right, but if I were a lone woman walking along the road and a man indicated I should join him in the car, that would be a very different situation. Also, the man is probably in his seventies. I figure if things turn ugly, I can take him. Finally, when Alrica and I travel, we want more than just seeing the sites. Alrica and I want to know the culture, experience something beyond the tourism. Maybe this would be a bizarre, but cool, Albanian experience.

Have you seen the recent news stories about the woman in Georgia (the state, not the country) who has a ten year old son. And the son decided to walk a mile into town (tiny rural town). Then a neighbor asked the kid if he was okay, he said yes, she called the cops anyway. And now the mother is being charged with a crime. And she's being told she has to sign some safety plan or she might go to jail and the government might take the kids away. I read about this story. And it is so American.

The United States, for all its wonderful qualities, is a country of fear. Everyone is afraid of what could happen. Naturally politics doesn't help with politicians stoking fear to get votes. But it goes well beyond that. Here we have a ten year old who plays in the woods behind his house, walking a mile into a rural town where he probably knows all the citizens. And the mother, who didn't know he was doing this, but you can't always know where your kids are at all times, is being charged for it.

Most of the world isn't like that. Here in Vlorë, for example, Alrica and I see children, much younger than ten, walking along Qemali Boulevard with no parent in sight. This is in a city of 90,000 people, where this child doesn't know everyone he sees on the street. But the people are good people and they don't live in fear of a possible, but highly improbable, bad person.

So all of this, for better or worse, was in my mind. I didn't want to live in fear. I didn't want to live in that fear which America instills in me. I wanted to see what would happen. My instinct said this was not the improbable bad guy. So I got in the car.

Obviously, I am writing this blog post, not from beyond the grave. What is the opposite of beyond? Within? No, I'm not within the grave. I'm writing this post from unbeyond the grave. So you know nothing terrible happened already.

What did happen? We rode, in silence (because we didn't share a language,) for maybe a kilometer or so. Then he got to a point where he needed to turn off the main road to get back to his home. He pointed up the side road to communicate this. I got out, said "Faleminderit" (which means thank you), we shook hands, he turned left, and I continued up the road.

Was it an amazing Albanian experience? No. But I met a good person who wanted to help me out. That was pretty cool.

I love that the north gate is still there even though the wall has crumbled and you could just walk around it

Wow, I've written a lot and I haven't even told you about the castle yet. Let me do so: Kaninë Castle is built alongside the village of Kaninë. The original castle is ancient, built somewhere around the third century BCE. It was refortified in the sixth century CE and had a medieval village inside it in the 14th century CE. (There are signs at the castle in both Albanian and English.) The castle became less strategically important in the sixteenth century. It was damaged in 1690 by Venetian bombing. It was abandoned in the nineteenth century. And it was damaged immensely during World War I by the Italian Army.

I assume the openings are for fighting, using bows or guns

There are still many pieces of walls that remain, parts of some towers, and interesting features in the stonework. The techniques used in the various centuries in which wall building took place were quite different. In addition, the tower had three gates and it still does: the east gate (into the village of Kaninë,) the north gate (down a hill), and the west gate (which now seems to lead to a private home.) The south is the side on the very vertical cliff-face. You don't want a gate there!

Normally, it costs 300 Lek to visit the castle (which is about $3.25) but this is not their tourist season. So there is no one there collecting any fees. I saw one other person exploring during the whole time I was there. It does offer spectacular views of Vlorë, Vlorë Bay, the Narta Lagoon, the valleys on the other side of the Shushicë Mountain, and Kaninë (which has a very pretty mosque with a silver dome and a thin minaret.)

You can see the minaret and if you look to the left, the silver dome

Then I headed home. I didn't get any rides back, but it's almost all downhill. The rain didn't want to follow me outside of the castle grounds, so it was a nice descent.

And if you think I'm a fool for taking the ride, well, feel free to tell me about it. I'm not promising it will change my decisions in the future, but I'll at least learn not to tell anyone about it.

Cost of a Month in Vlore, Albania

There are all sorts of ways to see the world, from high end tours to truly living as an expat. For Erich and I, we really are budget travelers. We look for ways to keep our costs down so that we can do the things we want to do and not have to work full-time to make ends meet. We are definitely not on vacation though. We sometimes say that we live boring lives in exciting places. Our goal is more to learn about a place and its culture than to "see the sights." 

Okay, let's talk money. Erich and I keep a monthly budget broken down into actual expenses divided into the categories of lodging, food, gas/travel, cell phones, and health/entertainment. Our goal for all of these categories is to stay under $3060 each month for the two of us with the understanding that some months are going to be splurge months and the others will make up for it. 

Our first full month in Vlore, Albania cost us $1,810! We will definitely be pushing the extra to our upcoming splurge over Christmas!

Lodging: Our first month in Vlore was a 2 bedroom/1 bath place that looked out on the beach in a quieter part of town that charged $878/month. We liked it but it kept having problems with power outages and it was a bit farther away from all the things we wanted to do. In the early November, we moved about half a mile away to a new apartment that doesn't have such an amazing view but only costs $685 for five weeks and has two bathrooms, plus it is in a better part of town. Because we were already in town, we met with the landlord and negotiated the price directly. If we could sign a lease for a year, 2 bedroom apartments overlooking the water are asking around $400 here.

 

 

 

We really enjoyed the view from our first apartment and the beach behind us!

Food: The food here is fabulous, if not as varied as we are used to in America. There is no McDonalds or Starbucks in the whole country but the produce is straight off the farm and easy to get. We find that we end up buying groceries every couple days since it is super fresh but goes bad quickly. We also eat out 5-6 days each week because the prices for a standard meal will run us around eight dollars for the two of us. Albania is very much a cash economy with very few places accepting credit cards and ATMs charge around $7 per withdrawal so we are thoughtful about how much we withdraw. Food for the month ran $766. 

Today's fruit purchase came to $2.50. Love trying things like persimmons that are in season when everything is perfectly ripe!

Gas/Travel: Vlore isn't close to an airport so no flights this month but we did do a great two day trip to Berat and our total for this came to $22.

                                                                            Berat, Albania

Cell Phones: We recommend a local provider called One. Don't purchase it at the airport if you can help it because you get better prices and options in the city. Our two sim cards came with 2 GB of data and unlimited calls and texts for $24 total. Before we left the US, we ported our US phone numbers to Google voice so we can still use those numbers any time we have internet, and wifi is everywhere. BTW, if you are traveling, you might check out esims. Our phones don't take them but if yours does, they can be less expensive, though the service isn't quite a good yet in Albania. 

Health/Entertainment: Since it is off-season, a lot of tourist sites that normally have charges don't right now and Albania isn't a place that has gotten into the habit of charging entry for everything (though it is considered good manners to donate some cash when you enter a mosque). We were also both due for a dental cleaning and visited a local dentist this month. He was super clean, spoke great English, and charged us $21/each for our cleaning/checkup. We highly recommend this! Total this month came to $86.

Hope that this helps anyone looking to spend some time here. It is a beautiful country and allows Americans to live here for a year visa-free so well worth checking out.

The Quasi-Intrepid Explorer

I used to motivate my children, when we were out hiking or traveling to new places, by describing us as intrepid explorers. I doubt they would call such talk motivating, but I had the purest of intentions. I certainly think of myself as an explorer, which I am. I also like to fashion myself an intrepid explorer. But in the cold light of reason, looking at myself from the outside, I'm afraid I have to disagree with me.

The truly intrepid explorer has a goal, a destination, and he or she or they will reach that destination regardless of atmospheric conditions, lethal impediments, or societal scorn. Such an adventurer laughs at gale force winds, impending monsoons, or nearby wildfires. There may be ravenous beasts, unfriendly natives, or deities who look down with disdain upon the enterprise, still the explorer's boundless intrepidity cannot be quelled.

But for some of us, that intrepidity is not quite so boundless. (Would that make it boundful?) We are the quasi-intrepid explorers. When I, for example, decide upon a destination, I have every intention of reaching it, so long as I don't have to get damp in the process. In the musical Les Miserables Éponine sings, "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now." Sorry, É, I'm not in total agreement with you on that.

This last week Vlorë has experienced a period of rain. And while I have not been dampened much by it, my enthusiasm for long exploratory walks has been. But don't give up on me entirely. I did try once.

The morning had been precipitous, but the forecast called for a cessation, for a few hours, of the rain. So I set out for Kaninë Castle. That should have been about an hour and a half walk there and obviously another hour and half back. I was about an hour into my ramble when, seeing the cloud cover thicken and deepen, I had a tough decision to make.

I had already ascended quite some distance. While Vlorë is on the coast, the castle is up in the mountains. I had hiked well above the city already. Did I want to turn back?

The city below in the distance

That would mean I was heading downhill, always easier than up. But it would also mean a future foray to the castle would require I regain all that elevation a second time. So maybe I should just push on.

Proof of the steepness! (Why is that word not stepth?)

On the other side of the metaphorical coin, I had forgotten to bring what I lovingly refer to as my ugly hat. It is a fabric hat with a bill over my eyes and a flap over my neck. I almost always wear it for hikes and walks because it provides protection from sun (and ticks, but I wasn't worried about ticks on this particular excursion.) But flipping the coin back over, it's November now. The sun's rays are diffused, and with the cloud cover already present, sunburn wasn't a major concern.

In the end, the increasing threat of rain provided the boost I needed to make a decision. I turned around and headed back for Vlorë.

While I didn't reach my destination, I did see other interesting things of note. In particular, on the way back, I had a companion walking on the other side of the road, a goat. Apparently, a herd of goats was grazing on the sharp descent that was just past the road. One of these goats must have found a break in the safety barrier and gotten on to the road. It didn't seem happy about this fact, but also didn't seem to remember where its point of ingress and egress was. I must acknowledge the prowess of the goats though. I could have tried their path to get back down the mountain more quickly. However, I would have certainly fallen and fractured some things I prefer to keep whole (even more than I prefer to keep dry.) the goats, on the other hand, or the other hoof, found no discomfort in the near verticality of their terrain. I guess there is a benefit to having four legs. And being a goat.

Stuck on the road and maaaaad about it

I chose—wisely I believe—to keep the road between my fellow pedestrian and myself. I stayed on the uphill shoulder and the goat stayed on the downhill side. Many of you might, like the viral video idiots in Yellowstone who want selfies with bison, have thrown caution to the wind and approached more closely. (Why did the chicken not cross the road? Because there was a goat over there!) But me, well, I'm happy enough with a picture from across the street. After all, I'm only quasi-intrepid.

The Merchant of Vlore

"So shines a good deed in a weary world." I was reminded of this quote when a good deed was done to me yesterday.

Many of you may recognize the quote and know its source. If not, here is a hint: Willy.

Yes, that's right, Willy Wonka said it after Charlie Bucket returned the everlasting gobstopper. But in fairness, he didn't originate the saying. He was quoting his own namesake, another Willy almost as famous as the chocolatier himself. I refer to one Willy Shakespeare. If you didn't know he habitually went by Willy, I don't know what to tell you. All his peeps called him Willy. Pretty sure I am on firm historical ground with that claim.

What is not disputable is that "So shines a good deed in a weary world" is a quote from The Merchant of Venice. This is a play which, at its core, is steeped in antisemitism. Spoiler alert: In favor of antisemitism. It is one of Shakespeare's comedies, and what's funnier than a greedy Jew getting comeuppance? (You will find plenty of Shakespearean apologists who claim Shakespeare is parodying antisemitism and is not himself antisemitic. I don't know, I mean, even though I feel familiar enough to call him Willy, I can't say I ever discussed his views on the topic of Jews.)

If the plays of Shakespeare were written by Shakespeare, of whom we have no evidence that he ever traveled outside the island of Britain, then he didn't actually know any Jews. Jews were expelled from Britain in 1290 by Edward I, and they weren't allowed back until 1656 under Oliver Cromwell. The Merchant of Venice was written in 1596 or 1597, so this certainly happened in Britain's Jew-free Interval.

This is all somewhat of a tangent, as I am not in Britain, but instead in Albania. Albania has a long history of helping Jews and others who were expelled or fleeing persecution. The oldest record of any Jews in Albania goes back to 70 CE. Exactly how these Jews came to be there is unclear, but one hypothesis is that they were Sephardic Jewish slaves being transported by Rome and after a shipwreck they came to Saranda (called Onchesmos by the Greeks and Anchiasmon by the Albanians at the time), which is a city in the south of modern day Albania. A synagogue from the third or fourth century has been excavated by archaelogists.

The Albanians have a cultural idea called besa through which they feel bound to help peoples in need. In 1492, Ferdinand and Isabella (of Columbus fame) expelled all the Jews from Spain. Many sailed the Mediterranean to find new homes, and many settled in Albania.

There is evidence that Jews reciprocated the care of those in need. In the early 20th Century, Albanian nationalists wanted independence from the Ottoman Empire. The Empire accused Jewish Albanians of sheltering and colluding with these nationalists. At this time, Vlorë was the only Albanian city to have a synagogue. That synagogue is no longer in use, but there is a street in the city colloquially called "Jewish Street" with Stars of David in the stonework.

The Jewish Street

Decorative Elements of the Street

Then came the 1930s and troubles in Germany and Austria. Many Jews fled those countries and many went to Albania. Albania continued to issue visas to Jews through its Berlin embassy after every other European nation stopped accepting them.

In 1939, Italy (fascist at the time) occupied Albania and when Italy surrendered to the Allies in 1943, Germany under the Nazis occupied Albania. But the Muslim and Christian Albanians helped their Jewish neighbors, creating false identity papers or hiding Jews in cellars and hidden rooms. It was one of the few European countries to have more Jewish people in it at the end of World War II than it had at the beginning.

After World War II, Albania was ruled by a communist dictator, Enver Hoxha. He outlawed all religions, not picking on only the small number of Jews in the country. The large numbers of Muslims, Catholics, and Eastern Orthodox citizens were equally unable to practice their religions. That period ended in 1991, but today there are estimated to only be between 40 and 50 Jewish Albanians. They almost all live in Tiranë, the capital city.

As is my wont, I have now taken you on a multi-paragraph journey that, while related, is far from the original impetus of my post. The question is what good deed was done to me that put me in such a contemplative mood? Last night, Alrica and I returned to a restaurant we have enjoyed several times called Natyral. (The y is pronounced like the "oo" in "foot", and this word in English is "Natural".) As I placed our order, the young man who works at the register told me that the previous time we had been there, he had made a mistake and overcharged me by 300 Leke. (This is about $3.25.) I hadn't realized I had been overcharged, I never would have known. He could have kept the money and I would have been none the wiser. But here he was, handing me 300 Leke.

That's honesty. That's character. In a time that feels increasingly contentious, xenophobic, and more and more tribal, such a good deed shines all the more brightly, making the world is a little less weary.

A Question Answered

Today, I took another trek to see Grandmothers. I set off to see Liqeni Babicë, which translates as Grandmother Lake. I was drawn because the map claims there is a hiking area by the lake. We'll get to that.

Also right around the lake are two towns. One is called Babicë e Vogël which means Little Grandmother, and the other is Babicë e Madhe which means Large Grandmother or possibly Great Grandmother. And I might have seen some grandmothers and maybe even some grandfathers, but not at the lake. I was the only one at the lake.

The lake with Babicë e Vogël in the background

What was referenced as a hiking area was really a dirt track for trucks to get down to the lake. There were no trails around the lake itself. It isn't a big lake, nor a particularly pretty lake. But it's a lake and in the summer probably a nice place to swim.

What was more interesting was the walk. Because it answered a question I had discussed previously with Alrica. One thing I noticed in Vlorë is that there are no cemeteries. I couldn't find any, not in the city itself.

When I took my hike out to St. Mary's Monastery and out to Cypel, I did pass a small cemetery on the way out toward Zvërnec. And there is an even smaller cemetery at the monastery itself. In fact, one of the people buried at the monastery is Marigo Posio, who is Albania's Betsy Ross. She was a political activist at the time of their independence in 1912 and she made the first Albanian flag.

Statue of Marigo Posio in Vlorë

But these small cemeteries couldn't account for the number of people who must have died in a place as large as Vlorë. My path to Grandmother Lake took me past, and through, the answer. Outside of the city, near Babicë e Madhe is a cemetery. Not just a cemetery, an enormous cemetery. It took me about 15 minutes to walk the length of it. So assuming I move at around 3 miles per hour, it was three-quarters of a mile long. I would guess at least an eighth of a mile wide. And it was packed full of graves, tens of thousands of them. They were right up against each other.

The area outlined in red is all cemetery

One thing that is a little bit sad in travel is that you will never fully understand the culture of another people. You can learn a lot but some things are hard to know, to understand, to communicate. Today it struck me that I didn't really know the practices of Albanians regarding their deceased loved ones. I didn't see a funeral today, but I did see several people coming out, by car or by taxi, to visit a loved one.

As I might have expected, many carried flowers. But what was different was how many of them also carried a ten liter container of water. So I took a closer look at several of the gravesites.

They all involve very lovely headstones, many carved in crescents and hearts and some just rectangular. Often a photograph of the person in life is included on the headstone. Many of the gravesites have a solid rectangular prism of stone over the ground, presumably where the body is interred. But some are more like a garden plot. There is a headstone, but then the gravesite itself has a rectangular border of stone. And within the border is dirt.

For many of them, nothing was growing in the dirt, or some had a few flowers planted. But for others, this plot was filled with flowers and small shrubs growing in the dirt. And the people visiting their loved ones with water were also watering the plants growing over their deceased family member.

I think the idea is beautiful: new life coming from the life of those you love. So even if my ultimate destination wasn't all I hoped for, I'm glad I took that walk today.

The Long Walk to Cypel

I did another trek. Yesterday I went out to Cypel. This is the point at the northern end of Vlorë. To the left is the bay, to the right, the Adriatic Sea. Of course, the water doesn't know which part it's in.

Vlorë Bay to the left, Adriatic Sea to the right, bunker in the middle.

Cypel is pronounced Tsoopail. The "c" is more of the "ts" sound like the "zz" in pizza. in fact, in Albanian, the word for pizza is pica, pronounced just like the English word. The "y" is the "oo" sound of foot or good, not the "oo" sound of choose or mood.

Cypel from above

It took me a little over two hours to walk there. I had seen pictures of Cypel, but these pictures were all taken from boats. They show the point from the bottom. As you can see, my pictures are from above. I could not find a practical way to get down from the top of the point without ending up in either the bay or the sea. And I wasn't sure I would be uninjured. And I wasn't sure I would find any way back, aside from swimming.

More Cypel, still from above

But I did do some quality scrambling over rises and rocks to get as far as I did. I know my son would have mixed emotions had he seen me performing my quasi-athletic feats. He would have been approving and proud that his father attempted and succeeded the ascents and corresponding descents. But he would also have the eye roll of disdain, knowing that what required my intense concentration to figure out where to put my hands, my feet, and occasionally, my bottom, would have been to him a trivial matter easily accomplished in loose fitting sandals and with his conscious mind occupied with question of subatomic particles.

Here is the path. I promise there were trickier parts to traverse than this.

All of that is beside the point. I made it and experienced my own sense of accomplishment for doing so. Plus, I got to take pictures.

Incidentally, along the way I crossed beside Naturist Beach Zvërnec. For those who don't know the alternate term, a naturist beach is what in America would be called a nudist beach. Some of you might be more curious what I saw there, as opposed to a Cypel. Sorry to disappoint you, but it was the first of November. We are way out of season. Though it was sunny, I saw no sunbathers, no one skinny dipping, nothing remotely risque. Unless you consider an Albanian man fishing as semi-scandalous. He was clothed, so I give it a zero on the suggestive scale.

What is interesting about the naturist beach is its location, right between the beach access for two hotels. I wonder how much privacy the naturists experience in the busy time of the year. Probably not as much as I had on my solo walk.

Berat

Alrica and I did an overnight trip to Berat. Alrica will share more about the transportation to and from the city. I will discuss some of the wonders we experienced in Berat.

Berat is an Albanian city on River Osum. (The Albanian name is Osumit.) The river has carved out a lovely flat valley and much of the modern city is there. But one prominent feature is the high cliffs on the right bank of the river. Because here, at the top, is Berat Castle. And coming down its sides is the magnificent Old Town. So magnificent it is designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Castle at Top Left, Old Town coming down the mountain

Old Town is a fabulous maze of staircases and stone walkways. You can call them streets if you like, but you won't want to bring anything with wheels here. There are houses and businesses at various levels, so the roof of one house could be below the door of its neighbor above.

Step through the door and down you go

We stayed at a lovely bed and breakfast in Old Town. It was challenging to find it that first time. Actually the second time too. But we did find it. It has a rooftop deck, where we had our breakfast, which looked out on the Medieval Center, part of the city in the flat valley. I will talk about the Medieval Center later.

Some streets are wide enough to walk two or three abreast. Some are narrow forcing you to walk single file. And some are almost entirely stairs. We ate at a restaurant on multiple levels. The waiters must be so fit, because they constantly have to run up and down stairs.

All the doors on the right at each level lead to the same restaurant

At a site called the Bachelors Mosque, which doesn't seem to be in present use, we found a gnome door. At least I can only assume it is for gnomes or other sufficiently small creatures who have a need for doors.

Who else is using a door that small?

From Old Town we walked up and up and up and up to reach Berat Castle. Let me be explicit. It was a lot of going up. The Castle has a long history. It was first built in the Fourth Century BCE by the Illyrian Parthini people. But that castle was burned down by the Romans somewhere around 200 BCE. Oh Romans, why do you have to burn down cool stuff?

We still some up to go

Not to fear. The Romans, realizing the strategic potential of a castle at this location, rebuilt it, though about 700 years after they had burned the first one. That was the fifth century CE, and then in the sixth century, the emporer Justinian I of Rome built it up further. Fast forward another 700 years and Michael I Komnenos Doukas of the Byzantine Empire added more. (Yes, the Byzantines now controlled the area. Bye Rome!)

Almost there, unless we want to go further up to reach that arch

Within it, churches and homes were built. Many of those homes exist still and people live within the castle. There are hotels there, restaurants, and shops. Many of the churches are empty now, in some state of decay, but some of them still hold services.

The Red Church is still functioning today

There was also one mosque built inside the castle. You might think, why were the Byzantines building mosques? Good question. They weren't. This was in the period in which the Ottoman Empire ruled the area. However, that mosque, called the White Mosque, is mostly destroyed. There are still a few walls and a piece of the base of the minaret still standing.

The base of the minaret of the White Mosque

Visiting Berat Castle you can still see several of the churches, the remnants of the White Mosque, an entrance to the cisterns, and places you can climb the gallery wall and look out over the lower city.

The Cistern, one wrong step and you tumble down into that water

When we left the castle, we went down and down and down (because you have to undo all that going up) and we reached a part of town called The Medieval Center. This part of town was built up during the Ottoman reign over the area. There are several large mosques and one large Byzantine Cathedral. In fact, the Lead Mosque (so named because it has lead in its dome) and the St. Demetrius Cathedral are across a central square from one another. We visited both. Note: If you want to visit the Lead Mosque, they are very welcoming. But everyone must have covered legs (no shorts) and women need a head covering. Alrica has a beautiful scarf which was a gift from our daughter that she used when we went in.

The Lead Mosque

Saint Demetrius Cathedral

We also had traditional Albanian food while in Berat. Alrica tried something totally new: pispili. Pispili is sort of half-sandwich and half-panini. But the bread is made with cornmeal rather than wheat flour. It has spinach, eggs, and feta cheese inside.

Pispili

I was going to try a new kind of tavë than I had tried before. But they were out. And that was lucky, because instead I decided to have fërgesë. I had enjoyed fërgesë in Tirana. But wow, this fërgesë was fantastic. I don't know how they seasoned it, but it was scrumptious. Here's how scrumptious. The main ingredient of fërgesë is bell peppers (or capsicums if you are an non-American English speaker.) Alrica is not particularly fond of bell peppers. But after she had a taste of my fërgesë, she was even angling to get me to trade dishes with her. (I declined the invitation. The fërgesë was too good to surrender.)

Old Town View from the Medieval Center

It was a whirlwind trip, there and back again in a day. But we were delighted. It was a feast for our eyes, a party for our tongues, and a workout for our calves. Totally worth the workout.