Here’s a throwback post to summer vacation in 9 countries over 24 days.

I’m no travel blogger, but I wanted to have a post for this and to put words to visual memories because… I’m just so grateful to have them.

That my husband and I were able to travel at a time when the world was so fragile, that our work afforded us the means to do so, that we were vaccinated - and so were our families - that we could meet them and check out the world at the same time… was incredibly precious.

So yes, 9 countries in a little over 3 weeks, because that’s how we roll my husband has a goal to travel every country in the world and thus the hectic schedule.

Not recommended, regular folk, because one would certainly need a vacation from vacationing right after.

We did Spain > Andorra > Austria > Germany > Albania > Kosovo > North Macedonia > Albania again > San Marino > Italy > Germany again.

Thank God for Germany, because that’s where we’d check in with my in-laws and get fussed over. Family pit stops are the best.

But you know what’s a close first?

Albania. 🇦🇱

And that’s what I’d like to talk about in this post. :)

Albania. 3 reasons to visit Albania.

I was actually anxious to have this post out because it’s been a while since our return to Massachusetts on August 26.

A part of me was afraid that time would erase my memories of the place. Afraid that I’d forget the little moments that made each day in Albania special.

I’ll tell you why.

Tirana was a nostalgic parallel of my childhood in singapore

Tirana transported me back to 90s Singapore.

It reminded me of the years where my country was developing and that downtown was a smorgasbord of old and new buildings, each telling of a story.

We would pass this junction every evening on our way back to the hotel. For a country that has been closed to the world for many years, Albania - well, Tirana - looked quietly hopeful about receiving the world.

There were evenings where I would simply stand in the spot as I did in this photo, captivated by a junction that seemingly resembles an inflection point for this country.

How would Tirana develop? Would old buildings be wiped from the face of the earth to make way for new ones? Would heritage and history be forever lost in the face of modernization?

There were signs that allowed me to believe that Tirana will walk a fine line between preservation and progress.

Here’s a photo of the revamped farmer’s market (Markata E Fruta Perimeve) within walking distance of downtown Tirana. Props for not relocating the market to the outskirts!

There’s nothing pretentious about this place. It’s still packed with long-time stall owners selling local fruits, toys and household necessities, still frequented by locals, and beneath the bright lights and glass facade… still grounded and real.

I must have taken the above photo while seated at Met Kodra waiting for Ralf to bring us our first round of qofte zgare, aka grilled meatballs.

I say first round, because we ended up having three.

I think we had a total of 55 pieces. We didn’t plan to, ok. We’d read about it in our Lonely Planet travel guide and thought to stop by to “try a few pieces then head off to try food at the other stalls”, but yeah, they were track-stoppingly, mouth-wateringly, plans-alteringly good.

This stall has been serving the same recipe since 1957.

64 years; vintage taste at its best.

Tender meat in complex spice, just a little charred on the outside, fragrant with smoky charcoal. Scalding meat to be delicately dipped in local salt before consuming, followed by a mouthful of warm, homemade bread. This would bring you back to the basics of gastronomic delight: carbs and meat.

Getting hungry now.

Anyway, my point is, even food was unpretentious.

And around the corner, hey! An outdoor theatre!

If you’re free, you could grab a chair and sit with a neighbor or stranger, chat about the show. If you’re a kid who’s just passing by, you could linger and watch for a bit before continuing what you were doing. Why not.

My childhood was not filled with outdoor theaters, but outdoor operas in dialect were a thing.

Skanderbeg Square at the heart of Tirana was perhaps what truly captivated me.

We spent so much time there just walking around, people-watching and soaking in the atmosphere of an unguarded people.

How do you infer that a place is safe? For me, it’s the number of free-roaming kids seen.

This place is filled with them in the day. Little children and pre-teens just running about a public space with a scooter, a ball, a friend in hand, no helicopter parents in sight.

At night… it was pretty much the same. Except with very little public lights.

Families with little ones would be by the public fountains. Sigh, I remember begging my mom to let me play by the fountains when I was a child. She would say no, out of fear that I would catch a cold after. I’d grown up watching other kids play in jealousy, and once again felt the same as I stood there and watched, the chains of adulthood shackling me to a certain expected conduct.

Those who aren’t so thrilled about getting wet could go take a ride in the carousel.

I thought it was just a one-off entertainment feature, a traveling amusement park of sorts, but a quick google search reveals that it’s actually a permanent feature. Yep, right at Skanderbeg Square, right by the building that houses the Ministry of Tourism and Environment, diagonally across a very grand Opera & Ballet Theatre.

Charming :)

Concluding this segment with this photo of a stretch of neighborhood shops beneath residential apartments. Another childhood memory-triggering scene; another poignant reminder of a time where I was without a care in the world. I would have a whole afternoon to meander through shops and explore random knick-knacks.

I don’t think any shops that I grew up with are still around. They’ve shuttered and given up their space for… whatever.

So you see why Tirana pulled at my heartstrings. It transported me back to days where life was simpler.

Life was simpler, the world was open, and joy can be found in basic things.

Am I the only adult who yearn for days long past?

Albanian hospitality is reliable and honest

Albanian hospitality is not loud.

Locals don’t smile at strangers. They wouldn’t initiate a greeting at a passerby. Oh, definitely unlike America with her open smiles and easy greetings (which took me some getting used to, by the way).

Albanian hospitality is not overtly warm.

But it is there alright- just a smidge under the surface, too easily unlocked. Albanians would reciprocate with a shy smile and a nod if you offer them one first.

Albanian hospitality feels… reliable and honest.

From the hotel staff to shopkeepers and people on streets who helped us with directions- it was all plain and earnest.

Perhaps best epitomized by this glass of sheep’s yogurt with wild honey:

A glass purchased; a glass given.

Albanian hospitality is no less.

The Accursed Mountains were a sight to behold

Don’t really have much to say here besides showing you the photos taken on our hike from Valbona to Theth.

Yes, hiking the Accursed Mountains is about following the Austrian flag 🇦🇹

Along the way, don’t forget to stop and smell the flowers. Admire the little critters. Enjoy the sun on one’s skin.

This was where we’d stopped and had our sandwiches for lunch.

No, we did not ascend to the top because my husband is a little afraid of heights AND THINKS THAT I WOULD PUSH HIM.

For real. He made me promise that I wouldn’t push him. 😒🙄

I-

Anyway, when we were done with our hike and nobody died, the journey back was super rewarding because we got to stop at Simoni’s cafe that served that full-to-the-brim sheep’s yogurt with wild honey.