A crimson sunrise spread its glow over San Diego. What a beautiful city, I thought, as I relaxed in the back seat of the Uber. My morning zen was jolted to reality when the driver shouted,
“What terminal?”
“Oh, um, right, terminal 2,” I replied.
“Where you going?” he asked, his tone more a demand than a question.
“Albania,” I said.
“Albania! Oh, be careful!” the driver exclaimed. “Albania, very dangerous—they cut you!”
“What do you mean, they cut you?” I asked.
“Yes! You walk the street, they have knives, they cut you! Albania, very dangerous!”
I stayed silent as we approached the airport, replaying the ominous warning in my head. At the terminal, the driver helped me to the curb with my bags.
“Well, thank you”, I said. “By the way, when were you in Albania?”
Shaking his head, the driver said, “Never been. Too dangerous”.
If you had asked me two weeks ago to find Albania on a map, I would have pointed to one of the “Stan Countries”, thinking perhaps Albania was Borat’s homeland. This small Balkan country borders the coast of the Adriatic and Ionian Seas. Roughly the size of Vermont, Albania lies above Greece, and below Montenegro, and is within kicking distance of the heel of Italy’s boot.
At risk of turning this into a history lesson, I’ll be brief: Albania is a young country in an ancient region. Since the fall of Soviet rule in 1991, Albania and its capital city, Tirana, have undergone a transformation, where history, post-communist grit, and modern creativity intersect. This transformation, led by Prime Minister Edi Rama, himself, a visionary artist, has catapulted Albania’s progress into the 21st century and its impending membership in the European Union.
I was on a photographic assignment with my brother, Bill. A Stanford Professor in Business and Environmental Sustainability, Bill is the Chair of this, Fellow of that… blah blah blah. A lifelong academic, Bill’s titles take a few minutes to read, but it’s safe to say he’s a passionate and notable figure who is doing his best to make the world a better place, one country at a time.
Albania’s innovative approach to AI and sustainability caught Bill’s attention. So a visit to meet business leaders and see the country was arranged. After a lively panel discussion, we were invited to meet privately with the Prime Minister and listened to his [Edi Rama] vision and hope for the future of his country.
The breakfast meeting was just the four of us: Prime Minister Edi Rama, the Finance Minister, Bill, and me. Unlike Bill, I’m unaccustomed to meeting heads of state, much less breaking bread while discussing the future of a nation. Edi Rama is a towering and intimidating figure, both in character and stature. His 6’7″ frame and soft baritone voice command the room’s attention.
As the youngest member in an Irish family of professional raconteurs, I felt like my 8-year-old self. There I was, picking at my food while the adults in the room used big words. The discussion was interesting. Bill and the Prime Minister talked about AI, tourism, and the cultural growth of Tirana by making Albania a safe haven for artists. But I started to daydream and was in the midst of rearranging the delicate cherry tomato slices on my plate when Bill turned to me and said, “Paul, what do you think”?
I felt the immediate need to pee, as a wave of panic washed over me. Managing to cough up a sentence or two that passed as semi-intelligent, I did my best not to embarrass my older brother.
Later, I walked the streets of Tirana, taking a few pictures and enjoying the city’s energy. This was a throwback to my eighth grade photo-nerd self. My interest in photography started when I was 13, walking the streets of San Francisco, taking pictures of everyone I saw. Parents with babies, sailors on leave, homeless shelters, small businesses, and crack-whores. Street photography hones the skills needed to be a photojournalist. It’s not about the camera. It’s the speed of thought, situational awareness, and learning to be silent and unseen.
This city, Tirana, was far from my Uber driver’s fears. The people are lovely, the food is fantastic, the city is walkable, and buzzing with construction and positive change.
The Albanian youth, no different than most countries, are sexually charged, fun-loving, and tech-savvy. However, the faces of anyone over fifty carry a burdensome memory of a dark world where suspicion reigned and the ruling party oppressed creativity.
My personal “must do” recommendation: Drive the 2+ hours from Tirana’s airport to the Marina of Orikum. There you’ll find my new friend: Sailing Captain extraordinaire, Ardi Mustafa. We spent two days on his Hanse 588. The Albanian coast in September will not disappoint. The summer crowds had left, and the weather and water temperature were perfect.
I strongly encourage you to visit this hidden gem of a country, and hopefully, come away with new friends. I did, and I can’t wait to go back.
Albania offers stunning, diverse landscapes, from the 9,000 ft peak of Mt. Korab to the coastal Riviera on the Adriatic and Ionian Seas. It’s a fabulous vacation spot with a favorable exchange rate, delicious food, and warm hospitality.
And the best part; You won’t need to bring your knife.
