After the end of my 10-day hiking trip through the Balkans, I decided to tack on another week and explore North Macedonia. I had eight days before flying home, and after a little research, it was pretty clear that Ohrid needed to be on the list. Old Town Ohrid sits along the shores of Lake Ohrid—one of Europe’s oldest and deepest lakes—surrounded by mountains and full of charm. I figured I’d spend five days in Ohrid, then head to Skopje for the last three.
There are plenty of food choices, a surprising number of churches, and a slower pace that’s easy to settle into. With cobblestone streets, quiet alleys, and spots to sit by the lake, it’s not too crowded and still feels a bit under the radar.
To keep things simple and avoid juggling buses or renting a car, I booked transfers with Daytrip. It wasn’t the cheapest option, but it was comfortable, and I liked that I could schedule stops along the way.
Before I get into the highlights, I should say—I didn’t follow a strict schedule while I was in Ohrid. I arrived midafternoon after a drive from Tirana (not a long drive—about 2½ hours, but with a couple of stops and passport control, it ended up closer to 3½ or 4 door to door).
So really, I had four full days to settle into a rhythm: morning and evening walks along the lakeside path, long lunches, spontaneous explorations, and a few organized activities like a boat ride and cooking class. It was the kind of place that makes you want to slow down and wander.
The drive from Tirana to Ohrid wasn’t especially long or difficult in itself—it winds through Albania’s central highlands and mountain roads near the Jabllanicë–Shebenik area, with plenty of curves and elevation changes—but it ended up being nerve-wracking because of the driver. He was driving too fast, passing on blind curves, and overtaking cars and tractor-trailers in ways that felt reckless. I finally said something, and he apologized and backed off.
I’ve used Daytrip several times and have always had excellent, professional drivers—this was the only time I felt uncomfortable.
Eventually we reached Qafë Thanë, a mountain pass near the Albanian side of Lake Ohrid. As we came over the ridge, the lake came into view for the first time—wide, calm, and edged by distant hills. It took about 40 minutes to get through passport control—no need to get out of the car, just a few slow-moving lines and a quick glance from the border agents.
After the border, we stayed in the hills for a bit before the road slowly leveled out and led us down toward the lake. We entered Ohrid through the Upper Gate, the best-preserved of the old city entrances, into the historic part of town where remnants of the original stone walls still wrap around the hillside. (The Upper Gate also connects to Samuel’s Fortress, one of the most prominent landmarks overlooking the lake).
I was instantly relieved I hadn’t rented a car—parking in Old Town was tight and would’ve been a nightmare. I was more than happy to let someone else deal with that stress. My driver found a small lot nearby and parked. From there, it was just a short walk—mostly around the corner—to my lodging, Villa Varosh.
Even though it wasn’t far, the cobbled streets and not quite knowing where to go gave it that classic traveler feeling. Part of Daytrip’s service is to take guests door to door, so once the driver found a place to park, he also helped me locate the villa—and insisted on carrying my suitcase. Plus, he was probably still trying to get back in my good graces after that wild drive.
What I liked most about Villa Varosh was the location—right in Old Town, but set just off the busy paths, so it felt peaceful without being out of the way. Though they didn’t have a restaurant on-site or include breakfast, they had a front sitting room with coffee and tea which was always available, along with some cookies and fruit.
The staff was friendly and informative. My room was bright and inviting, with a very comfortable bed (I say beds because I actually had to switch rooms after three days—no big deal, and they moved my bag). They also had bikes available to rent. Everything about this place was so great that if I ever come back to Lake Ohrid, I’ll stay here again. When you find the perfect place, why look further?
Ohrid is sometimes called the “Jerusalem of the Balkans,” and it’s not hard to see why. At one point, it was said to have 365 churches—one for every day of the year. That number’s probably more symbolic than exact, but it gives you an idea of how tied to religion this place has always been.
Ohrid was a major center for Orthodox Christianity, and it’s where Saint Clement founded the first Slavic-language university back in the 9th century. Some churches are big and well-known; others are small and easy to miss. A few I’d planned to see, but most I just came across while walking the old stone streets.
At some point during my wandering, I followed the lakeside path and crossed the Bridge of Wishes. It’s said that people stop there to make a wish before moving on. From there, I passed the beachfront and climbed up to the Kaneo Viewpoint. The Church of St. John at Kaneo was one I knew I wanted to see, and it didn’t disappoint. It sits above the lake, looking out over the water.
It’s small, but the location is stunning—probably the most photographed spot in Ohrid (for good reason). With the church, lake, and mountains all in view, it looks like a postcard—and it’s just as beautiful in real life.
Another favorite was the Church of Saints Clement and Panteleimon, considered one of the holiest sites in North Macedonia. It’s set on a hill above the lake and was rebuilt on the site where Saint Clement started that first Slavic university. A gold mosaic above the entrance immediately caught my eye, and inside, some of the frescoes were being restored while I was there. Others were still visible—rich colors, expressive faces, and a surprising amount of detail.
A few ancient mosaic slabs were also on display, giving a glimpse into the long history of the place. The setting made it even more powerful—quiet and open, with a clear view of the lake.
I also visited the Church of St. Sophia, which had some of the most detailed and well-preserved frescoes I’ve seen anywhere. The interior almost felt like a museum, with layers of history painted across the walls. The Church of the Mother of God Perivleptos had stunning frescoes too.
Smaller churches were everywhere—St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, St. Clement the Lesser, and others I found while walking. A couple were simple, one-room buildings cared for by neighbors who lived right next door. Some were locked, so I just peeked through the windows—but even that gave me a sense of how old and loved they are.
I’m not usually that into churches, but in Ohrid, it just sort of happens. They’re everywhere—and most of them are pretty fascinating. Before I knew it, I was stepping into one after another without really planning to. It’s just part of being there.
One morning, I walked to the marina and ended up joining a small group for a pontoon boat ride on Lake Ohrid. There were a lot of boats offering tours—everything from pontoons to big cruise-style boats packed with people. It was a nice (and different) way to see the area from the water, but the larger ones were way too crowded for me. The pontoon I boarded had just eight of us (plus the captain)—an international mix from Switzerland, Germany, Slovenia, Australia, and the U.S.—small and low-key.
Seeing Ohrid from the water gives you a different perspective. The lake was calm, the cliffs were steep, and the Church of St. John at Kaneo sat above it all. I’d seen it from land, but from the lake, it looked even more dramatic—perched high above the water with the cliffs dropping straight below it.
Our first stop was the Bay of Bones Museum—a reconstructed prehistoric settlement built on stilts over the water. It wasn’t totally my thing; it felt a little Disney-like. But the history behind it is real—archaeologists found bones and tools here from the Bronze and Iron Ages—and the site does a decent job of showing what that early lake life might have looked like.
Next was the Church of the Holy Mother of God Zahumska, located in a forest near the village of Trpejca. Most people visit by boat, but it’s also reachable by land if you’re up for a hike. It dates back to the 13th century and sits quietly at the foot of the hills. The frescoes are weathered but still full of color and expression, clearly influenced by Byzantine art.
We ended at the Monastery of Saint Naum, not far from the Albanian border. The grounds had gardens, peacocks, wide views over the lake, and—of course—the main attraction, the monastery itself. It was originally founded in 905 AD, and parts of the church still hold frescoes from the 16th and 17th centuries.
Like many of the churches I’d seen on this trip, it was richly decorated. The interior had colorful frescoes, small alcoves, arches, and several domes. What really caught my eye was the iconostasis—the carved screen filled with icons of saints and archangels. I haven’t seen too many in white—they’re usually a dark brown. I was really taken with the church—the art, the setting, the space.
I’d hoped to have lunch at one of the restaurants near the monastery, but they were either closed or booked for events. Starving, I settled for a frozen Snickers bar from a kiosk — which, honestly, hit the spot.
On the ride back, a light rain started to fall, and just before we reached the marina, a rainbow appeared over the lake.
Wanting to do something a little more local, I signed up for a Macedonian cooking class I found on Viator. I actually thought I’d signed up for a private class, but it ended up being a small group—which turned out to be even better. The cook, who also acted as the driver, picked me up near the marina, then picked up the German group as well, and brought us to her summer kitchen just outside Ohrid. Nothing fancy—just a small building with a covered patio, kitchen, and garden. Cozy, functional, and perfect for something like this.
The four Germans were a blast—three men and a woman, all in the area to hike. Funny, friendly, and fluent in English. We started with a toast of rakija and then got to work: chopping, stirring, drinking wine, and laughing a lot.
We made tavče gravče (baked beans in tomato sauce), Macedonian potato salad with mint and roasted red peppers, and three versions of komat (a rolled pastry): one with cheese and leeks, one with veggies, and one with ham for the meat-eaters. We used an actual tablecloth to roll and shape the dough—which sounds odd, but totally worked.
The highlight was makalo, a garlicky walnut dip that I’d eat by the spoonful if no one was watching. We ate everything at her small dining table, along with some wine. It was relaxed and low-key. There’s something really nice about sharing a meal you helped make. I’ve started seeking out cooking classes when I travel—they’ve ended up being some of my favorite memories
Most mornings and evenings, I walked the loop around Old Town. It hugs the lake and winds past stone houses, churches, cafés, and viewpoints. Potpesh Beach was always on my route—small, stony, and popular, with people sunbathing, swimming, or grabbing food nearby.
Farther along was Labino Beach, quieter and less crowded. I found a rocky spot, dipped my feet in the lake, and just sat. You could easily spend hours doing nothing there—and that’s kind of the point. I saw people paddleboarding, gliding past with mountain views all around. Sadly, I never found the time to book a session, but it looked wonderful.
Ohrid’s beaches aren’t really sandy—at least not the ones I saw. Most were rocky, and you’d probably want water shoes if you were planning to swim. But still beautiful.
At some point, I made the climb up to Samuel’s Fortress, which sits at the top of the Old Town. It dates back to the 10th century, when Ohrid was the capital of Tsar Samuel’s empire. The walk up from Villa Varosh took maybe five to ten minutes—steep, but short. There’s not much inside the fortress—just open space—but you can climb the stairs by the entrance and walk along the upper walls. The views stretch out over the lake, the rooftops, and the surrounding mountains. I didn’t stay long, but it was worth a quick look.
Right across from the fortress was Fort Café, a small spot with turquoise chairs, red geraniums, and vintage décor. I sat by the window with a coffee and took it all in—old cameras, sewing machines, and clocks lined the walls inside, and the views were great—of course. The café also has a small dessert menu if you want something sweet with your drink.
On my first night, I tried The Lion Ohrid, a lakeside place with good vegetarian options. I had a salad, grilled cheese with honey, and a glass of wine by the water. For dessert: baklava. No regrets.
For breakfast, I usually went to Zhito Leb, a bakery that’s been around since 1948. I went three times—once for spinach-and-cheese pie, once for plain cheese, and once for a filled croissant covered in seeds with cheese inside. All of it was just really good—flaky, filling, and satisfying.
One night I skipped dinner and just had wine near my apartment—I was still stuffed from the cooking class feast.
On my last evening, I ate at Restaurant Antico, tucked into one of the old stone towers by the lakeside wall. The food—stuffed eggplant, warm bean soup, and fried cheese—was solid, but the setting made it special. I even ran into a Slovenian couple from my boat tour and invited them to join me. It was a great end to the day.
There were plenty of other options in the area, including quite a few seafood places—which, of course, makes sense being right on the lake.
Ohrid’s Old Town isn’t short on history. I visited the old amphitheater and wandered into churches full of frescoes that looked like they were painted yesterday. The carved reliefs, the quiet interiors, the sense of time—it all stayed with me.
Ohrid has a few shops worth visiting. The town is known for its pearl jewelry—specifically ‘Ohrid pearls,’ made using a traditional emulsion technique passed down through generations. A few of the more reputable places include Filevi and Talevi, both family-run and known for their quality and history. You’ll find shops like these scattered throughout the old town, along with others selling locally made crafts, icons, and souvenirs.
There’s also the National Workshop for Handmade Paper, a small museum where they make paper by hand and demonstrate traditional printing techniques—complete with a Gutenberg-style press they say is one of only two of its kind still in operation.
But honestly, my favorite part was just walking the stone streets. The Ottoman-style houses, the wooden balconies, the lake views that kept showing up around corners—it was easy to spend hours just wandering.
The only thing I missed—regretfully—was hiking in the nearby national park. Some Germans from my cooking class had done it and raved about it. There are trails with lake views, forest paths, and even routes that lead to remote monasteries. Next time.
I felt lucky to have had four full days in Ohrid. It might not be on every traveler’s radar, but it should be. It’s the kind of place where you can go slow, feel welcome, and leave with the sense that you’ve uncovered something special.
If you’re even a little bit into churches or iconography, Ohrid is a total no-brainer. And if you ever want a change of pace—or need to hit a supermarket—it’s only about a 15- or 20-minute walk from Old Town to the newer part of Ohrid, where the vibe shifts and the promenade keeps going.
About the Author
Hi, I’m JoAnne—writer, wanderer, and lover of places that surprise me. I’ve traveled to 60+ countries (and counting), usually with a camera in one hand and a notebook in the other. I’m drawn to mosaics, markets, and mountains, and I write to remember what moved me. When I’m not traveling, I’m working on my blog Travels Afoot, trying new creative projects, or planning my next adventure.
