Albania, a small forgotten state on the Adriatic Sea that was sealed off from the whole world like North Korea nowadays in the decades after World War II. No one was allowed in, no one was allowed out. That has changed in the meantime.
But still the country with its population of not even three million is a piece of mysterious terra incognita in the middle of Europe. Part 1 of the story is here, part two here. The number 3 you can find here and four + five + six + seven + eight. Last of all, the nine
The village of Limar, where we spent the night, wakes up in the morning sunshine. There is nothing to be heard here in the ice-cold Albanian mountains but a few roosters crowing and the bustle of our hosts preparing a local breakfast of fresh yoghurt, water, grape juice, honey, fruits and flat cakes.
Looking out from the lush green garden, one can see a landscape as barren as the surface of the moon, but still has a special charm. Above Limar the vegetation is waning, bare stone slabs glitter in the morning sun. Now we can see what kind of lamps we have had last evening. Strange.
Near the beaches, wide away
Right before the house starts our way, further into an area that is completely unknown and almost completely deserted. Limar is only 40 kilometers away from the beaches of the Mediterranean Sea, but could not be lonelier. Rugged mountains, at best overgrown with moss, lie under a bright blue sky.
The path over the heights leads past other typical villages of the Zagoria region, all of which consist of only a few houses, most of which have long been abandoned. Between the splendor of the mountains and the occasional glimpse of the eponymous river, whose waters glow green, the path meanders through a landscape of incomprehensible beauty.
Everything is full of stones, full of rocks, individual trees sit in between like the counterpoints of a classical composition. At a well we meet an old woman who is fetching water in a bucket because her house is not connected to a pipe system because this kind of things does not exist here and never has.
She tells us the story of the cairn next door, which in the good old days was a school attended by dozens of children. Right next to it there was a shop and two places further there was even a doctor.
Wasted landscapes
None of that is left. The next larger Këlcyra, which has at least 2,500 inhabitants, is an hour's drive by car, because in between lies the deep gorge Gryka e Këlcyrës. .In order to overcome that, you have to climb two mountain flanks that are around 1,000 meters high. Hard work in summer, impossible in winter. How do you still survive here? Without thinking the old woman says. "You mustn't get sick and you always have to have enough provisions."
In the traditional villages and what is left of them, we get an impression of the rural life of the people in southern Albania. Cattle breeding, beekeeping and the sale of medicinal plants are often the only sources of income, but transport to potential customers is also difficult here, because all the places south of Limar can only be reached on foot.
On our path
Our path leads there, right through an area where Enver Hoxha, the cruel autocrat of communist Albania, forcibly settled nomadic herder families in his time in order to force them to progress. In the vicinity of the village of Doshnice we will have a picnic by a waterfall that tumbles 20 meters into a small lake.
Let's have a bath! The water is icy in this interesting geological fold, composed of limestone that creates a fine dust and makes the water almost devoid of life. Directly below the waterfall, when bathing, there is a danger of joining the dead garbage that floats here and there in the form of plastic bottles: the whirlpool is enormous, it almost drags swimmers under it.
More mountains
Then the path calls again, on we go and instead of more mountains and more nature we find a small church in Hoshteve, built in honor of the Holy Apostle. The simple stone house is a feast for the eyes: crowded with rows and rows of holy relics, the dark interior gleams with magnificent frescoes and golden inlays. Icons cover the rough brick walls. It's a kind of magic. The economically very weak Albania is currently struggling to renovate the historic building.
We have a few - non-alcoholic! - drinks at the bar in the neighbourhood, which is inviting here as if the little church were a much-visited sight, and then we set off on the last leg to Sheper, the largest and most modern village in the entire region, which has meanwhile disappeared after most of the younger people had left only has about 100 residents.
Over stones and hills
Move your feet once more, once again it goes through forest and field and over stones and bare mountains, but now mostly downhill. At the end of the long road awaits the simple but very comfortable guest house of an Aroman family whose ancestors were among the people who were banished here because their restless lifestyle did not fit into the communist planned economy.
After seven hours of walking, an ascent of 725 meters and a descent of 575 meters, we still want to put our feet up, drink a beer and watch the sunset.
It's enough for today. It will continue tomorrow.
That's just enough to put us all in a happy sleepy exhaustion.
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