Albanian Heroes and Superheroes
Skanderbeg National Museum, Krujë
With our first campsite in Albania, just outside Fushë-Krujë, we have hit the jackpot. It is situated behind a four-star hotel so the Oldies have the use of the hotel facilities including a beautiful outdoor pool. The hospitality is second to none, with hotel staff coming out regularly to ask the campers if they need anything, and bringing them complementary drinks, snacks and plates of fresh fruit. Her Ladyship was bowled over when the hotel took in her laundry and returned it washed, dried and folded, refusing to accept any payment. His Lordship was thrilled with the free beer. In fact, I think I heard the Oldies whispering something about taking up permanent residence here!
Whenever the freebies from the hotel run out, the Oldies do their shopping in the busy little town of Fushë-Krujë. As the supermarkets here only sell dry goods, they have to go to separate shops and stalls for everything else. Shopping the old-fashioned way! Apart from the endless rows of fruit and vegetable stalls, there are chicken butchers, beef butchers, and of course, bakeries. There don’t seem to be as many bakeries here as in Montenegro, unfortunately. I have never seen so many as I did there and Montenegrin bread is to die for! The bread here isn’t bad either, although the name of our local bakery sticks in the throat a little. Apparently, a certain somebody popped into the shop when he was on a visit here so they named the bakery after him…
Our first outing from here was to Krujë, just a few kilometres up the road. And I mean up. It is a seriously steep climb. Then again, it has to be, seeing as it’s the location of the citadel where Albania’s national hero, Gjergj Kastrioti, commonly known as Skanderbeg, was based.
After visiting the Skanderbeg National Museum, I reckon that Gjergj Kastrioti wasn’t just your average hero, he was a real live Superhero. Well, he died back in the 15th century, but you know what I mean. Those Marvel comic fantasy figures are all well and good, but this guy was the real deal. His superpower was his combination of military and diplomatic skills which he used to great effect to unite Albanian princes in a common cause and, against all odds, keep the powerful Ottoman Empire at bey, I mean bay, for decades.
The man was a true legend and the country’s pride in their hero lives on to this day. There are umpteen portraits and statues of him in the museum alone and it houses just some of the over 1,000 books in dozens of languages written about him. Vivaldi composed an opera about him, for goodness sake, stamps were issued in his honour, modern commercial products still use his name or image … You name it, there is a Skanderbeg version of it.
When we returned to our car, the friendly car park attendant noticed the Oldies gazing in amazement at Mount Krujë rising practically vertically above the town. He told them that it was no problem to drive to the top, reassuring them that the road was brand new. After having seen the condition of the road up to Krujë, I don’t think they would have dreamt of attempting it if he hadn’t put them on the right track. But once they found their way through the outskirts of town, the road was indeed new, albeit extremely steep and full of hairpin bends. Unlike many a Montenegrin road, it even had two lanes. As we wound our way upwards, I was amazed at how relaxed Her Ladyship was. Pre-Montenegro, I am sure she would have freaked. Post-Montenegro, the drive was a doddle.
On a clear day, you can see both Tirana and Durrës from up there we had been told. It wasn’t a clear day, but the panorama was incredible nonetheless, and the walk along the ridge was wonderful. I even had a look into some interesting caves en-route. All lovely … except for all the huge amounts of litter strewn around. What an ugly blot on a magnificent beauty spot. Aaaaargh, you humans do my head in sometimes!
Back down in Krujë, the Oldies settled in a café for a cool drink. A large family group beside us was speaking a mix of Albanian and English and sure enough, it wasn’t long before the Oldies’ curiosity got the better of them and they fell into conversation with one of the young girls who explained that most of the family lives in America. She then told them the story of her uncle, an Albanian from Kosovo, who was sitting next to her and only spoke Albanian.
Back in 1973, when he and his brother were in their teens, they plotted their escape from the country. They would take off for three or four hours at a time, climbing the local mountains in the rain to practice their survival techniques and to get their family used to them not being around for long periods. In fact, they never breathed a word of their plans to their family. Finally, they took off on foot, managing to walk all the way to Austria. One brother, the girl’s father, later made his way to the USA where he subsequently raised a family. His brother, her uncle, who was 16 at the time, was arrested near Graz. He spent two weeks in prison in Austria before being sent back to Kosovo. On his arrival back home, he was promptly imprisoned again. The girl didn’t elaborate on his life after that point.
I took another look at her uncle, his weather-beaten face and his toothless grin. I calculated that he could only be 3 or 4 years older than His Lordship, but he looked at least 20 years older. It is hard to say which of the brothers was the hero of the story, the one who escaped or the one who was caught – and still came out smiling.
I am beginning to think that there are all kinds of Albanian heroes.
