Balkan Odyssey Part 4: Drinking in Tirana

by Neil Woodburn on

Tirana is not the place to go if you want to cut loose and go a little crazy. Nightlife here, which really didn’t exist under communism, is calm and relaxed and very mellow. Dancing on tabletops and getting visibly drunk is just not done.

That’s not to say there is nothing to do in Tirana. An entire section of town is basically dedicated to nightlife. The Bllok (The Block) is crawling with bars and cafes. What makes this part of town utterly unique, however, is that this is the neighborhood where the communist elite lived prior to their downfall. Ordinary citizens were not allowed to step foot in this part of town; armed guards were posted at the entrances and the whole area was blocked off, thus the name which still sticks today.

The arrival of capitalism and western-style decadence (albeit low key) is particularly ironic in this former communist hotbed. Nowhere is this more apparent than the street of Ismail Qemali. On one side is the former home of dictator Enver Hoxha–a dictator so paranoid about the outside world that he severed all train lines that crossed the Albanian border. On the other side, directly across the street, sits dozens of cafes and bars. There is something irresistibly pleasing about lounging on the outside patio of Insomnia–an American owned bar–with a cold Heineken in hand, gazing across the street at Hoxha’s old house.

There are other great watering holes as well. My favorite, Capriccio, is a just a couple of blocks away on Brigada e VIII (see above photo). It is modern, swank, and oozing with a great atmosphere. I would never have guessed I was in Tirana had you blindfolded me and dropped me off there.

Flex, on Dëshmorët E 4 Shkurtit, is similar in style and feeling and also worth a visit. Slightly more pretentious, with artwork on the walls and dour-faced posers sipping coffee, is Quo Vadis (Ismail Qemali 27). My favorite place to hang out during the day was the top floor of Bar Select. This rooftop café is nestled amongst pine tree three stories above the busy streets and is a wonderful place to slowly sip your drink and watch Tirana pass you by.

Certainly the bar with the very best aerial view is the Sky Club Café (Dëshmorët e 4 Shkurtit 5). Capping the top of Tirana’s tallest building, the Sky Club has amazing views of the Blloku as well as the surrounding city. Like building-top bars of similar ilk throughout the world, the ambience is cheesy and the drinks expensive. Go for the view and then duck out.

Lastly, I can’t write about nightlife in Tirana without mention the Living Room (Punëtorët e Rilindjes 16). Everything I read before going to Tirana mentioned how this was the hottest bar in the entire city. I stopped by twice and it was as dead as Tirana circa 1974. The interior is really quite cool, modeled after a very nice living room complete with stuffed sofas and bookshelves, but for whatever reason the bar seems to have fallen way off the “What’s Hot in Tirana” list.

Although I was the Ugly American who drank lots of Coca Cola in the Bllok, the resounding drink of choice in Tirana is coffee. Tiny espresso cups litter tables everywhere I went. For those wanting something a little harder, most of the upscale bars serve a variety of imported drinks, but not much else. There is very little domestically produced alcohol in Albania. Be sure, however, to try the local beer, Birra Tirana, which is light, hoppy and decently tolerable. And don’t leave Albania without ingesting a shot of raki. If you like swigging kerosene or other types of fuel normally poured into small motors, this is the drink for you.

Yesterday’s Post: What to see in Tirana
Tomorrow’s Post: Eating in Tirana

Balkan Odyssey Part 3: What to See in Tirana

by Neil Woodburn on

Like all former communist capitals, Tirana was socially engineered with the required injection of culture in the center of town. Skanderbeg Square boasts a Palace of Culture, National Library, and National Historical Museum-all of which loom above the expansive square where a mammoth statue of former dictator Enver Hoxha once held court. One’s eyes, however, are naturally drawn to the very beautiful Et’hem Bey Mosque and its towering minaret in the south east corner of the square. The 18th century building, one of the oldest in Tirana, seems incongruously out of place amongst the monumental architecture of the communist era.

Just south of Skanderbeg Square and partially obscured by poorly kept grounds, The National Art Gallery is my favorite museum in Tirana and well worth a visit. It cost $2 to get in and is like so many of the other museums I’ve visited in post-communist countries; I was the only tourist in the entire place and as I moved from room to room, squat female docents, bored out of their minds, turned on the lights for me and, just as quickly, turned them off once I left each room.

The bottom floor has some rather uninspiring contemporary Albanian artwork and is best viewed at a quick gait. Upstairs, however, is a fascinating study in contrasts. At the top of the stairs is an impressive collection of 16th century religious icons while the adjoining room showcases the social realist paintings of an atheist government–paintings which extol communism with even more religious fervor than the icons in the first room.

At the opposite end of the gallery a surreal hodgepodge of statues and busts ranging from Mother Teresa to Enver Hoxha are stuffed into an odd little room that’s been painted white. The statues are haphazardly scattered about as though they are as much in storage as they are on display.

Just down the road from the National Art Gallery is the city’s most bizarre exhibition space: The Enver Hoxha Museum. This pyramid-shaped structure was designed by Hoxha’s daughter and opened in 1988, three years after Hoxha’s death. As you might suspect, a museum honoring Albanian’s horrendous dictator did not survive the communist revolution. It was briefly turned into a disco after communism fell and today is worth a wander to check out the assortment of small shops and salespersons that now operate inside, hawking all manner of goods much to the ironic chagrin of anti-capitalist hardliners from the communist era.

Near the pyramid’s entrance hangs an 1100-pound Bell of Peace. The bell was cast from an estimated 20,000 shell casings collected by Albanian children in 1997 when civil unrest threatened to rip apart the country. I’m sure glad I didn’t visit Albania that year.

Once past Hoxha’s pyramid, Tirana starts to gain some character. This is the part of town where the communist elite lived in luxury–at least compared to the average Albanian who was prevented from even entering the area. Albanians call this part of town the Blloku. Spread across a one kilometer square area, the Blloku has much more greenery than the rest of the city and numerous early century houses which survived the war and communist city planning. This is also where most of the foreign embassies are located. Keep an eye out for the Italian one–it is the most heavily fortified. The barbed wire atop its walls reflect the early days of post-communism where Albanians by the thousands attempted to flee to neighboring Italy.

These days, the Blloku is where most everyone in Tirana seems to eventually find themselves in the evenings; it has been turned into the Greenwich Village of Tirana and is now lined with cafes, bars, and restaurants. The Blloku will be the focus of tomorrow’s essay.

Yesterday’s Post: Tirana
Tomorrow’s Post: Drinking in Tirana

Balkan Odyssey Part 2: Tirana, Albania

by Neil Woodburn on

The capital of the poorest country in Europe is a surprisingly pleasant place.

Unfortunately, I awoke to it at 4 a.m. when a rather large minaret right outside my Tirana hotel window began broadcasting the morning call to prayer.

Thanks to decades of rule under the Ottoman Empire, Albania is one of the most Muslim countries in Europe. It doesn’t seem like it, however. Sure, there are a few other minarets in Tirana–mostly built in the last decade–but otherwise very little evidence that 70% of the country is Muslim.

It is hard to get a feeling for the city based strictly on the architecture. Prior to World War II, much of the city was blessed with fantastic Italian buildings. Unfortunately, the war leveled much of it and the communists razed quite a bit of the rest. The result is a semi-modern city with large squares–perfect for communist military parades–and a hodgepodge of architecture, most of which is ugly and utilitarian, except, of course, the government buildings which are dominate and intimidating.

Quite a bit of the city is, no surprise here, falling apart. The streets are riddled with potholes and the sidewalks are upended and punctured with amazingly dangerous holes just waiting to claim the next unsuspecting footstep. Many of the buildings are in desperate need of a paintjob.

Fortunately, Mayor Edi Rama cleanup efforts are mixed in with all this communist era rubble and balance out much of the bad. The former Paris-based artist has placed his stamp on this city unlike any mayor has ever done. He literally gave the city light by installing street lamps-something entirely missing during communism. He cleaned up a weed choked river in the center of town that was home to all kinds of post-communist, illegal commerce, turning it into a nice, grassy riverbank. Most famously, he distributed paint and asked for many of the city’s buildings to be painted in wild, bizarre patterns that are utterly unique to Tirana.

The result is a city emerging from post-communism that has improved in leaps and bounds, is harboring the first vestige of character, but still has a ways to go. Shady boulevards and café-lined streets are starting to spread like a baby’s smile, but the rough-and-tumble, gritty air of post-communist desperation still hangs heavy in Tirana. It’s a city of contrasts, and that’s what makes it fascinating.

Tomorrow: What to see in Tirana
Yesterday: Getting to Albania

Balkan Odyssey Part 1: Getting to Albania

by Neil Woodburn on

Places so far off the beaten path rarely have good air connections. Albania is one exception, sort of. Shortly before planning my trip, British Airways announced that they would start flying direct to Tirana, the capital of Albania. This was a no-brainer: fly into London and catch the connecting flight onward.

Here’s the problem, however. Don’t ever let British Airways snooker you into the old Heathrow/Gatwick connection. My L.A. to London flight landed at noon in Heathrow and my Tirana flight took off from Gatwick at 3:45. Nearly four hours seemed enough time to make the connection. It was not.

After going through immigration, picking up baggage, and clearing customs, transfer passengers must then walk out of the airport, find the National Express bus station, stand in a long, slow-moving line, purchase a ticket for 18 pounds ($35), wait for the next bus, and then sit anxiously for an hour as the bus slowly trundles over to Gatwick. I made it just 30 minutes before my flight took off, but it seemed that at least half the bus missed a 3 pm flight they were trying to catch. British Airways does not aid in this process at all. You are on your own.

But, I guess I can’t complain too much; at least I caught my flight to Mother Teresa Airport. Albania is probably the only country in the world with an airport named after a nun. It is small, surprisingly clean, and somewhat modern. Visitors must pay a 10 euro “entrance fee” which I’d normally be upset about, but considering visas are no longer required for American and European citizens, I was happy to avoid the hassles normally associated with getting one.

I landed at 8 pm just as it was getting dark. It is never a good idea to arrive in a foreign land when it’s dark, especially if it is the poorest country in Europe. I assumed it wasn’t very safe and dreaded the taxi scrum of suspect drivers and unsavory characters I knew awaited me just outside the exit. Just before walking out, however, I discovered an official taxi stand with official rates printed on a placard: 25 euros to the city center. I grabbed a driver, pushed my way through the phalanx of “taxi, taxi, taxi” muttering malcontents loitering outside, and headed into town. My trip had officially begun.

Yesterday’s Post: Balkan Odyssey
Tomorrow’s Post: Tirana

Balkan Odyssey: Or, What I Did on My Summer Vacation

by Neil Woodburn on

Today begins a short series on a long trip from which I’ve just returned. As you can tell from the title, my journey took my through the former Yugoslavia. Fifteen years ago, the majority of my trip would have been a visit to a single country. But today, after far too many years of horrific civil war, Yugoslavia has split into five separate countries. I was fortunate on this trip to have visited three of them as well as some of their neighbors. In the following weeks, this column will take you through Serbia & Montenegro, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Croatia, and Albania. Straying slightly from the Balkan theme, I ended my journey passing through Hungary and Austria.

I would have liked to send dispatches from the road, but part of the allure of where I visited was that internet bars were not on every corner.

The aim of this column is to hopefully introduce the reader to a handful of countries, rarely visited, that have much to offer. The column will be part travelogue, sharing my experiences and adventures, as well as part guidebook, where I hope to offer enough practical advice to help future travelers through a region covered very poorly by guidebooks.

Lastly, this column will temporarily replace Red Corner, seeing as everywhere I visited was once part of the old communist empire-except, of course, Austria. So, jump on board and join me on the Balkan Express. The trip exceeded all of my expectations and this column will hopefully exceed yours.

Tomorrow’s Post: Getting to Albania