Back to the time we ran out of the rat house in Berat, Albania on October 2nd, 2019. We had booked that house for a month, but we ran out once we were notified that the hotel room we found around 6:00 am was ready for us. As we were frantically taking our things downstairs, our Airbnb host entered the house without advance notice. Things got very uncomfortable when we told him about the two big rats that ran amuck all night, but it never got hostile.
We moved to Hotel Orestiada using a taxi they had sent for us. Once it stopped at the end of the pedestrian walkway, two hotel staff members (Ermal and Grigor) came to help us with our luggage. I insisted on carrying the smaller bag myself. The ground floor of the hotel is a cafe/bar. At the foot of the stairs a man seated at a table drinking coffee stood up and insisted on carrying my bag for me. He was so intent I let him, but Grigor took the bag from him. I was tired and annoyed at everything, but this man’s smile and gesture instantly and completely changed my mood.
The next morning, at breakfast, we figured out that he was the owner. We stayed in most of that day dealing with the Airbnb host who said we could move back into the house in a day or two. Shudder. We thought the best reason or excuse we could use to get a full refund would be to leave Berat entirely. So, the following day, we forced ourselves to leave the hotel to at least see some of Berat before leaving town.
It was a beautiful day. Bulevardi Republika is a long and wide pedestrian walkway. Lining it is a high school, the city hall, our hotel, a kindergarten, abandoned buildings, a bank, restaurants, cafes, shops, park benches, shady trees, chess players at all hours, sunflower seed vendors, grilled corn vendors and in the middle of it, people strolling and friendly dogs hoping for some food or attention.
The server at Te Albani, the restaurant where we ate the night before, waved at us. The view of Berat Castle on top of the hill was magnificent. Kenric pointed out the rat house among the houses on the slope of the hill. At the end of the boulevard, a happy couple and four bridesmaids were having their wedding photo shoot.
Bulevardi Republika.
Congratulations!
We crossed the bridge and walked through the Gorica-neighborhood side of the town. Berat is truly beautiful. It was very hot, but since we decided to leave Berat soon, we forced ourselves to walk all the way to the third and last bridge in town where people were selling vegetables. When we got there, we realized most of the vendors were selling olives by the crate. Berat, with its Mediterranean climate, produces great olives and olive oil. It looked like it was a wholesale olive market and the vendors were chatting amongst themselves.
He was so nice. Once he realized Kenric was trying to take a photo, he stopped to pose.
Berat, with its Mediterranean climate, produces great olives and olive oil.
Beautiful olives, but don’t eat them unless they are cured.
When they realized Kenric was trying to take photos, the vendors quickly got out of the way. I quickly snapped a few and one of them even smiled for the camera. When I turned around, a man with a big smile was holding out a fruit for me. His smile was impish yet genuine. Without a second thought, I took the fruit and thanked him, “Faleminderit!” He and his friends were so surprised they all had a good laugh. I was just happy that they were amused.
Quince. Ftua in the Albanian language. How I ended up with it was completely ftua-tous!
My happy fruit bearer in the yellow shirt. Faleminderit!
We’ve never seen this kind of fruit before. It looked like a guava. We thanked them again and waved goodbye but didn’t get far because a doggie was sure I would have some food for him. I poured him a pouch of wet cat food, waited for him to eat and looked back at my fruit bearer. He and his friend waved again. I snapped another photo of them. Doggie wanted more. I poured him the last pouch I had with me, and started walking. He ate quickly and caught up. He had a bad skin problem, but in that moment, he was happy.
We saw a shepherd with his flock. I crossed the street to take photos of his sheep. He was nice and was telling me something about them in Albanian. The nosy doggie crossed the street to join me, but that was too bad because he was scaring the sheep. The shepherd yelled at the excited doggie and tried to shoo him away. I quickly got doggie to follow me back across the street where we waved goodbye to the shepherd who cried woof.
The shepherd who cried woof!
Doggie had a bad skin problem, but in that moment, he was happy.
We walked past a camper park where tourists were hanging out outside their campers, past some abandoned properties, past some homes with olive and fruit trees, and into a more residential area with many five-storey flats. This territory belongs to other doggies, so our happy doggie turned around and walked back towards the olive market.
We bought pet food at a supermarket, but by then, it was too far to walk back to the bridge, and we wanted to check out the main street that leads into town. To this day, I’m sad that I didn’t get that doggie more food as I promised. We walked by fresh produce markets, grocery stores, bakeries, butcher shops, sundry shops, clothing and accessories shops, small electronics shops and many pharmacies and cafes.
I saw a cellphone sitting on a wallet next to a half cup of coffee on one of the tables outside a cafe. No one was around. It was interesting to see people leaving such valuables unattended, so I turned around to take a photo of it. As I got closer, a man quickly stepped out and stood near the table. I quickly turned and walked away. Not only did I fail to capture the Albanian honor on display, I managed to make myself look like a potential thief. Oops!
Chatting with a local about that days later, I was told, “In Albania, you can leave your phone and your wallet anywhere, but if you leave your lighter, you can say goodbye!”
I took a picture of a Roma lady selling grilled corn while waiting to cross the street. She said I should I buy from her since I took her photo. Fair enough. I never take pictures of street performers or dress-up characters without tipping. She was neither, so I was just going to move on. But since she requested, we said we would buy an ear of corn from her. We made some small talk while she was fanning the fire. She wrapped the corn with corn husk, and was happy that we paid her double what she asked for.
The Roma lady was nice. The little boy liked his corn. We wished there was salt and butter for us to put on ours.
We ate the corn while visiting the Martyrs Cemetery across the street. I wish there was salt and butter on the corn. Many of the communist partisans died young fighting fascist Italy and later, Nazi Germany. It was a well-kept cemetery. Back across the street, we walked by a funeral home with a restaurant attached. I couldn’t resist saying that the restaurant’s food was to-die-for.
“LAVDI DESHMOREVE”. It means “Glory to the Martyrs”.
Martyrs Cemetery. Many young male and female Communist partisans died fighting Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany.
I still can’t resist saying that the restaurant’s food was to-die-for.
Entering the historic part of town, I was again captivated by the architecture. On my camera screen, I saw a guy who looked really familiar coming towards us on a bicycle. It was our host. It was too late to pretend to turn away, so we stayed still. Honestly, I expected some berating on the streets of Berat. The closer he got, he bigger his smile was; and it was a genuine smile. I think we just reflexively smiled back, and when he passed us, he said, “Hello! How are you?” “Good. How are you?”
It’s our host on the bicycle. I expected some berating on the streets of Berat, but he was cordial and cheerful.
Days later, we would learn from Grigor during one of our many short interrupted chats at breakfast that the Albanians abide by an overarching “kanun” of hospitality. Qanun is an Arabic word that is also used in the Malay (and Albanian) language which means “code” or “law”. This kanun dictates that an Albanian home first belongs to God, then to guests and lastly, to the owner. While that was codified by an Ottoman Sultan in the 15th century, our experience in Albania tells us that the locals have been practicing it for much longer.
While the Airbnb host could have skipped the Welcoming Committee of Rats, we were genuinely surprised (and relieved) by how cordial he was at that chance meeting. As he happily rode away, I was confident that the Airbnb refund dispute could be resolved amicably. Once that grey cloud was lifted, we were in no rush to leave Berat.
We went to Te Albani for dinner again because we liked the food and the waiters. We would have dinner there at least 15 times during our 29-day stay in Berat. I set the fruit on the table as the waiter was asking if I wanted an Aperol Spritz again. “Yes, please!” We asked him what fruit it was. By then, Kenric had pretty much figured out that it was a quince. The waiter confirmed that by showing us the Albanian-to-English translation on his phone.
“We call it ftua.”
Indeed, our first day of exploring Berat was full of ftua-tous gestures of hospitality and honor.
Roadside Olive Market Berat Shqipëria jugore, Albania
Martyrs Cemetery Berat Shqipëria jugore, Albania
Te Albani Berat Shqipëria jugore, Albania
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