As I travel more, I find myself drawn to places that aren’t on everyone’s list—somewhere with a bit of mystery, or maybe just less buzz. A few years ago, my daughter and I started a tradition: one trip together each year. It began when I visited her during a semester abroad in Barcelona, and we’ve been traveling together ever since. This year, we chose Albania, starting off in the capital city of Tirana.
In Tirana, I got a feel for the city’s mix of old and new—Soviet-style buildings, bold modern art, lively cafés. From there, we headed south, where the trip really started to open up. We explored quiet mountain towns, dramatic coastlines, and places that felt both unfamiliar and deeply welcoming.
I chose Albania for its history, beautiful landscapes, and the fact that it’s still a little off most people’s radar. I started searching online—typing in things like “Albania,” “travel to Albania,” and “hiking in Albania”—hoping to find something useful. Eventually, I came across a company called KimKim, and it turned out to be exactly what I needed. They connect travelers with local guides based on your interests and budget.
I told them where I wanted to go and what kind of experience I was looking for, and they matched me with someone in Albania who put together a great itinerary. I made a few tweaks, but overall it was easy—and they were incredibly responsive, which made planning feel pretty effortless.
Before long, I was connected with the company I’d be traveling with—Drive Albania. The owner, Ed Reeves, was just as responsive as everyone at KimKim and quick to answer any questions I had. The itinerary looked great—right in line with the kind of trip I wanted—and I was excited. It already felt like it was going to be something special.
Our trip kicked off in Tirana, where we met our guides, Henry and Elton. (If you’re curious about the city itself, I wrote a separate post: Tirana— 2 Days in Albania’s Colorful Capital,
Morgan and I stepped out of our hotel and spotted the Drive Albania van—our driver and passenger already waving from inside. After quick hellos, we climbed in: Elton behind the wheel, Henry riding shotgun.
Now, this van looked a little like an old VW, but it definitely wasn’t. It was a rugged Russian-made machine built for serious off-roading—perfect for the rough roads, mountain passes, and dirt tracks Henry assured us we’d be seeing plenty of.
Leaving the city behind, we headed toward Berat, taking the scenic (and slightly wild) route over a high mountain pass. It was our first taste of how well the van handled the rough terrain. Partway up, we stopped for lunch at the top—simple food, fresh air, and incredible views in every direction.
By evening, we reached the historic town of Berat—a UNESCO World Heritage site and our stop for the night. We stayed at Hotel Klea, located right inside the Castle of Berat grounds. Staying inside a fortress? Pretty unforgettable. The place had this quiet, old-world charm—stone walls worn down by time, like they’d been collecting stories for centuries.
The next morning, we wandered the narrow cobblestone paths of the walled city while Henry shared bits of its history. Along the way, we found incredible lookout points with sweeping views of the town below and the Osum River winding through the valley.
After breakfast and a final look at the beautiful city of Berat, we continued our journey south. With the 4-wheel drive engaged, we followed a rugged, winding route that hugged the Osum River, eventually leading us toward Përmet.
But before leaving Berat completely, Henry surprised us with a stop at the Cobo Winery, tucked into rolling hills and vineyards. It was the perfect place for a quick break—some wine tasting, a few bottles to go, and a happy stumble back to the van. I mean, is there ever a bad time for wine tasting?
After that little detour, with Elton back behind the wheel, we cruised along smooth paved roads that offered stunning views of the countryside. As we neared a more remote area, Henry switched seats with Elton. (They were both great drivers, but Henry usually took over when things got rough.) When the paved roads disappeared, Henry shifted the van into 4-wheel drive again and expertly maneuvered through crumbling dirt paths, ruts, and loose gravel.
Morgan and I sat in the back, gripping our seats as the van bounced and lurched. Every bump and twist sent us bouncing from side to side. We couldn’t help but laugh—holding onto the seats and sometimes each other as we rolled with the chaos. It was wild, ridiculous, and so much fun. I had never experienced anything like it—and I loved every minute.
The windows were down, music was blasting, and the whole van felt alive. Henry and Elton played some of their favorite songs, and Morgan and I added ours to the mix. We had a couple of go-to playlists—including one with Metallica. At one point, “Nothing Else Matters” blasted through the speakers as we wound our way along the mountain path, each turn more dramatic than the last. Somehow, it was perfect.
The road felt like it had a mind of its own—a nonstop rollercoaster of bumps, rocks, and switchbacks. But in all the bouncing and dust and noise, there was this incredible energy in the van. I’ll never forget that stretch—how beautiful and completely chaotic it was. And it was only the beginning. Drives like that would become the norm for the rest of our time in Albania. It was truly wild.
We stopped for lunch at a lookout spot with yet another amazing view. Elton laid out a blanket, and we had pizza (Albanian-style, picked up from a bakery in Berat), fresh salad, and fruit. After eating, we stretched our legs with a short walk to a nearby waterfall.
We continued on toward Përmet—our adventure was definitely still ramping up. Our next stop was the Osum Canyon. As we got closer, the landscape started to shift, opening up into something even more dramatic. And then suddenly, there it was—this massive gorge, with steep cliffs and greenery spilling down the sides. It was absolutely stunning.
You’d think that driving through the Albanian mountains in a 4-wheel drive, eating a picnic lunch, walking to a waterfall, and visiting the Osum Canyon would be enough for one day. But nope—there was still one more surprise.
Morgan and I were quickly learning that the best parts of travel often show up when you’re not expecting them. Somewhere between Skrapar and Çepan, Henry turned onto a winding road in the middle of nowhere. Just when we thought the day had peaked, we pulled up to a tiny roadside stand.
Morgan and I stepped out of the van, not realizing that this little roadside stop was about to serve up one of our favorite food moments of the trip: fresh Albanian fried dough, or petulla, still warm and golden. We dipped each piece into a bowl of local honey—simple and so good.
To top it off, we had cold Korça beers, a local favorite. I never would’ve thought beer and fried dough made sense together, but I was clearly wrong.
After a day full of surprises, we made it to Peshtan, a small village just west of Përmet, and checked into a modest, charming little hotel where we’d spend the night.
We were up early the next morning and back on the road with Henry and Elton. Soon after, we met up with two local hiking guides—Benny and Chimmy—who didn’t speak English but greeted us warmly and were clearly pros at what they did. From there, we set out on a long hike through the lesser-known Zagoria Valley, starting in Teleplene and heading toward Përmet.
Apparently, the Greek side of the Zagoria Valley is better known, but the Albanian side is still off most people’s radar—which made it feel even more exciting to be hiking there.
The rough trails took us through thick forests, past rushing rivers, over old Ottoman bridges—those classic stone ones with one to three arches—and along the edges of tiny villages. The mountain air was crisp, and around every bend there seemed to be another stunning view. We couldn’t stop looking around.
After a long day of hiking, we arrived at the tiny village of Sheper, where we shared a simple meal with our guides and a local family we’d be staying with for the night—a couple in their mid-thirties, their four-year-old son, a grandparent, and one cat. The food was served family-style, with everything laid out on the table.
Honestly, most of it looked like leftovers that had been sitting out for a while. But there were a few vegetarian options, so that was something! I put on my best “this looks amazing” face and took a slice of spanakopita, some soggy-looking French fries, and a piece of bread. Everything else either had meat or looked a little too mysterious. “When in Rome,” I told myself.
The conversation around the table didn’t include us—no one in the family or among our guides spoke English—but somehow, it was still a really lovely evening. Toward the end of the meal, Chimmy, clearly trying to make us feel included, motioned for us to take a shot of raki—the strong local spirit that seems to show up at just about every table in Albania. Of course, we did.
The accommodations were very basic. There was no hot water—unless the grandfather boiled some over the fire and poured it into a jerry-rigged tank on the roof of the outhouse-style shower (which, to our surprise, he did for us). Thanks to his effort, we managed to take a very quick but warm shower the next morning—an experience that felt both rustic and incredibly kind.
Breakfast was sweet bread and donuts with honey, served with a smile.
The only real downside? The bed was so lumpy that poor Morgan woke up with back spasms bad enough to bring her to tears. Not exactly a restful night—but one we’ll never forget.
Our hike continued on through the Zagoria Valley, leading us closer to Përmet, where we reunited with Henry and Elton.
We enjoyed some lunch and a cold beer and then made our way to the town center of Përmet, where we spent the night at the Funky Guest House.
The journey to Gjirokastra the next day continued to take us through the rugged landscape of southern Albania, along bumpy mountain roads with Henry skillfully at the wheel.
On the way, we made a brief stop at the Archaeological Park of Antigonea—once a thriving ancient settlement in the Drinos Valley. Its weathered stone walls, still standing despite Roman attempts to destroy them, offered a quiet glimpse into the region’s layered past.
We also paused whenever something along the roadside caught our attention. At one point, we spotted what looked like a doorway tucked into the mountainside. Curious, we hiked to the base and started climbing. Partway up, we found a ladder leading straight to the opening we’d seen from below. Naturally, we climbed it—and couldn’t resist exploring further.
When we stepped through the door, we were all amazed—we had stumbled upon a beautiful church built right into the mountainside. Inside was a small chapel with an adjoining room. Henry guessed it might have been an Eastern Orthodox hermitage—even our guides had never seen it before. The walls and domed ceiling of the chapel were covered in what appeared to be fresco-style paintings, reminiscent of traditional Orthodox church art.
The room was quite dark, lit only by a small window and a hole in the ceiling. Despite the low light, it was fascinating. When I took a photo and the flash lit up the space, I was amazed—the walls were rich with color, and the paintings were beautifully ornate. We were all so thrilled with what we’d found. Since then, I’ve tried searching online for more information about this little place, but so far, I’ve had no luck. It felt like we had stumbled onto something truly unknown—pretty incredible when you think about it.
We made a quick stop for lunch at the Check-In Restaurant, where we sat at a patio table and enjoyed a spread of Albanian vegetarian fare: spinach and cheese burek (spinach pie), stuffed grape leaves, cheese-filled peppers, falafel, and some qifqi—rice balls with spinach and herbs, a specialty of the region. Lunch is often the largest meal of the day here, and this one certainly felt like a feast—vegetarian, flavorful, and deeply satisfying.
We stayed that night at the small but welcoming Kalemi 2 Hotel. After settling in, we found a nearby spot for a simple—though not particularly memorable—vegetarian meal. Then we headed up to the hotel’s rooftop to play cards and enjoy one of the bottles of wine we’d picked up from the Cabo winery earlier. It was the perfect way to end what had truly been an incredible day.
We began the day with a visit to Gjirokastra Castle, a UNESCO World Heritage site and another striking example of the well-preserved Ottoman architecture that defines this region of Albania.
As we continued our drive, Henry pointed out the Tepelenë Internment Camp, explaining that it had once operated during the time of the People’s Socialist Republic of Albania. Modeled after the Soviet Union’s kolkhoz system, the camp held a wide range of prisoners—convicts, fugitives, and deserters among them. As we passed, I couldn’t help but think about the stories and lives of the people who had once been confined within those walls. It was a quiet reminder of the region’s turbulent past and the complex human experiences woven through it.
That night, we arrived in the village of Nivica, where we stayed at the Guesthouse on the Canyon—a stunning location perched high above the cliffs. The hosts welcomed us with warm smiles, though no English. Luckily, our guides Henry and Elton were also staying there to help bridge the gap.
When Morgan and I woke up the next morning, our host led us to a small table tucked away at the back of the yard. It was set just six feet from the edge of the canyon, offering a breathtaking view of the Canyon of Nivica. Waiting for us was a basket of bread, jam, butter, and local feta cheese, all laid out on a neatly set table. We were served delicious omelets and steaming hot coffee. Morgan and I exchanged knowing glances as we ate—every detail of this place, from the food to the setting, felt just right.
After breakfast, we climbed back into the van for a morning of exploring.
As lunchtime approached, Henry led us off the beaten path to a fantastic picnic spot. We unpacked a light but satisfying meal of fresh fruit salad and the most scrumptious Albanian bread stuffed with cheese—Pogaça me Djathë. It’s similar to pizza or focaccia, but somehow even better—next-level delicious. It completely hit the spot.
After refueling, we climbed back into the van and continued the adventure, heading toward a spot where Henry had heard there might be a double waterfall. He was determined to find it—and we were all up for the challenge. We parked, jumped out, and started hiking in the direction he’d heard about. It took around 20 minutes, and then suddenly—there it was. Easily the most stunning waterfall I’ve ever laid eyes on. It was another total “Wow” moment for all of us.
Like the other waterfalls we’d seen, this one emptied into a wide pool at the base. Henry and Elton couldn’t resist the temptation—and who could blame them? They jumped right in for a refreshing dip.
Dinners at the Guesthouse on the Canyon always left us full and happy. While meat was a regular feature at the table, being vegetarian was never a problem. Our host served up an array of delicious dishes, including Perime ne Zgarë—grilled vegetables like eggplant, tomatoes, onions, zucchini, and peppers—alongside freshly made Greek-style salads. One evening, we were also served Fërgesë, a popular Albanian vegetarian dish made with tomatoes, feta, onions, and peppers. And of course, there was always a basket of warm, freshly baked bread. As vegetarians, Morgan and I felt thoroughly well cared for.
After a delicious dinner and beer, we capped off the evening with shots of rakija. In the Balkans, it’s more than just a drink—it’s a tradition rooted in family and heritage, with many people still making their own at home.
As the sun went down, Henry, Elton, Morgan, and I—by now full of camaraderie, with Henry and Elton feeling more like friends than just our guides—headed out to a perfect spot at the edge of the property. A wide stretch of cliff top offered the ideal setting for an evening of shared laughter, card games (we had taught them the game Golf, which they looked forward to playing each night), and quiet stargazing. These cherished moments became the highlight of our time together—memories that will always hold a special place in my heart.
After two incredible days in Nivica, we said goodbye to our hosts—and to a few fellow travelers from Poland who had also been staying at the guesthouse—then climbed back into the van for the long drive to the beach town of Himarë. It took about three and a half to four hours, winding through the mountains before reaching the coast.
We arrived in Himare and said goodbye to Henry and Elton. For the next two days, Morgan and I relaxed on the sandy beach, lounging in comfy chairs under umbrellas, enjoying mojitos, and swimming in the Ionian Sea. Not bad at all! I even found time to do a little reading.
We had a blast celebrating Morgan’s 26th birthday at the beachside restaurant Cabo Del Mar. She went for seafood, while I opted for the pasta. The hospitality was outstanding—the staff went out of their way to make her birthday feel extra special. They even surprised her with a beautifully decorated, custom-made cake!
Himarë’s beauty and laid-back vibe gave us the perfect breather before heading back to the capital, Tirana. With more than a hint of sadness, we left the coast behind. Henry had arranged our ride back through a local contact in Himarë, and once in Tirana, we reunited with him and Elton.
I’ll forever associate leaving Himarë with David Bowie’s Space Oddity. As we slowly wound our way out of town, the song started playing from the van’s speakers—surreal, melancholic, and strangely perfect for the moment. It felt like a soundtrack to a departure I wasn’t quite ready for. And speaking of music, there’s a whole playlist in my head now, a kind of unofficial soundtrack from this trip. Even now, when one of those songs comes on, I’m instantly back in Albania, reliving the winding roads, the conversations, and the feeling of movement and change.
As a final gesture of gratitude, Henry took us out for a wonderful Italian dinner at one of his favorite local spots. Over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, we reminisced about the journey—laughing, sharing stories, and soaking in the final moments together. Albania had surprised us in all the best ways and left a deeper impression than we ever expected. Our 10-day trip through Southern Albania with Drive Albania was more than just a vacation—it was an experience that exceeded every expectation. Each day brought something new, from winding mountain roads to quiet beaches, and the kind of encounters that stay with you long after you’ve returned home. We found a country full of natural beauty, history, warmth, and a sense of discovery.
Even now, this trip remains one of my favorites. Maybe it was the chance to experience it with my daughter, or maybe it was the feeling of exploring a place that still feels a bit untouched—but something about Albania just stayed with me. It’s a place I’d go back to in a heartbeat, and one I can’t recommend highly enough.
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