Things to do in Saranda: Sun-soaked Days, Seaside Strolls, and Beers with Elvis

After reporting on river pollution on the Ishker River, I needed a break. I wanted to relax, get some writing done and recover from a bout of sickness. (Side note: my sick day coincided with others exploring canyons and turquoise waters, but hey, silver lining – I got to witness FC Bruges clinch the Belgian championship from my sickbed!)

Enter Saranda (or Sarandë), the coastal haven in the south of Albania that whispered promises of sunny days, a laid-back vibe and salty air. Once a sleepy village, Saranda is now the main draw along the Albanian Riviera (although, technically, not part of it). It lured us for a two-week stay. This is what we did:

Enjoy seaside vibes

Saranda might present itself as the Albanian answer to Benidorm – or Blankenberge if you will – but that doesn’t mean it’s not a pleasant place. The town invites you to indulge in the art of mindless strolling. The Albanians call it the xhiro, the evening walk. In Saranda, arguably, the best plan is to have no plan at all, to simply follow your nose along the Hasan Tahsini Boulevard, the walking promenade hugging the Ionian Sea. Hit one of the pebbly beaches in town. Or try to find the cheapest ice cream stall, where two scoops cost just 100 lek. The promenade itself is a canvas for people-watching and sunset-gazing, preferably accompanied by a bottle of local wine. In Saranda, life effortlessly takes on the rhythm of the waves – easy, breezy, and oh-so-enjoyable.

Have a drink at Elvis’s Coffee Bar

Guess what, folks? The King is alive and runs a café at the end of the boulevard. After a refreshing swim at the nearby beach, we often ended up on his cosy terrace – journalling, drinking beer and chatting with the Elvis-lookalike owner. Complete with a greasy ponytail and a deep, gravelly voice that could convince you he’s been smoking fistfuls of cigarettes every day (although he swore to us he quit as a teenager). Inside, dozens of portraits of the King adorn the walls and his tunes rock the speakers. Fun fact: this Elvis doppelgänger used to perform often in nearby Corfu and still regularly hosts shows in his café. Unfortunately for us, we were a tad too early in the season. A fact Elvis bemoaned endlessly as he complained about the lack of visitors.

Hit the beach

a beach in Ksamil

North of Saranda, the Albanian Riviera stretches out with its crystal-clear blue water and endless stretches of golden sand. On the other side of Saranda, about ten kilometres south of the city, lies Ksamil, another town boasting picture-perfect paradise beaches. Albanian beach culture seemed all about beach chairs, parasols and the option to rent them at wallet-friendly rates. It’s very inexpensive by Western European standards. As we didn’t plan on a full beach day, we just plopped down on our towels on an empty patch of sand and went for a swim.

Ksamil’s beachfront looked fancy. A short walk, however, revealed a more rural charm – sheep meandered the streets, and in a field stood beekeepers’ boxes. We tried to follow the contours of a nearby lake, passing farmers and mussel harvesters loudly cracking open shells, but let’s just say it wasn’t exactly a well-established road. As there was little respite from the relentlessly blasting sun, we eventually turned back.

The pristine Albanian beaches, left untouched during the communist times, have been undergoing rampant development in the last few years. Whilst I commend the Albanians for their efforts to improve their standard of living, the environmental toll of unchecked development is hard to ignore. (See also: my article in The Guardian about the construction of an airport near Vlora). I don’t have a definitive answer to this issue – and I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t enjoy what the coasts have to offer, it didn’t stop us. Just saying it’s good to be aware of the delicate balance between progress and preservation.

Experience the opening of the tourist season

traditional singers during the opening of the tourist season in Saranda

Our visit to Saranda coincided with the event that officially opened the tourist summer season. In 2022, this happened at the weekend of 21 and 22 May, but do check! Throngs of people shuffled over the coastal promenade, where oldtimer cars were showcased and men in traditional attire sang haunting polyphonic melodies. Amidst the festivities, Anete even made a cameo appearance on the local TV channel.

Explore the national park Butrint

Anete in the amfitheatre of Butrint

Just south of Ksamil, the Butrint National Park blends ancient ruins with lush natural beauty. Butrint is arguably the most important archaeological site in Albania, a place with a history as a Roman colony, a city the Venetians used strategically to control the shipping and trading along the Adriatic Coast and the personal toy of the infamous local despot Ali Pasha of Tepelena.

A museum showcases an array of discoveries, notably larger-than-life statues of emperor Augustus, his wife Livia and the general Agrippa. The supposedly impressive floor mosaic, one of the biggest draws of Butrint, however, is almost permanently covered with sand. This preservation measure protects it from exposure to the air and to the rising water levels in the lagoon. Every few years, the mosaic is uncovered. Our visit, unfortunately, did not coincide with such an occasion.

Go early to avoid both the oppressive heat and the masses of people. If you arrive a bit too late, expect to see plenty of bored Albanian high-school students.

Stare into the Blue Eye

Like locking eyes with a beautiful girl, staring into the depths of this natural karst wonder is quite the experience. Amidst lush forests, a veritable small jungle, the Blue Eye (Syri I Kalter in Albanian) captivates visitors with a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. As we peeled off our socks to take a plunge into the ice-cold water of this karst pool, a gang of damselflies patrolled over the water. Only the voice of David Attenborough was missing.

Needless to say, you’re unlikely to have this beautiful spot to yourself. When we visited, drones buzzed over our heads while a cacophony of raucous cries and hoots echoed through the air. Rowdy visitors plunged into the water with the grace of primates. Still, it’s worth a visit if you’re staying in Saranda.

Climb to the Monastery of the Forty Saints

The Monastery of the Forty Martyrs in Saranda

Supposedly, Saranda was named after this former monastery on a hilltop. Nowadays, the site is mostly rubble. Unless you’re a history freak, a visit is more interesting for the walk and the views than for the monastery itself. There are two ways to the monastery. Opting for the “back route” leads you through a lively neighbourhood where boys play football in the streets and hairy men in wife-beaters grill meat on the barbecue. Whichever route you choose, the vistas are sweeping.

The monastery was purportedly built in honour of forty Roman martyrs, who preferred banishment over renouncing their faith. It once drew Christians from across the Balkans to Saranda. Italian archaeologist Luigi Maria Ugolini, enraptured by its beauty during his work on the site in the mid-1920s, hailed it as one of the finest examples of church architecture in Albania. However, the passage of time took its toll, the monastery gradually fell into disuse and disrepair and eventually succumbed to World War II bombings.

The Monastery of the Forty Saints: practical

  • opening hours: 9-18 (summer), 8-16 (winter).
  • cost: 200 Albanian lek (May 2022), payable to the old men playing dominoes.

Bonus: Find Hillary Clinton

A bust of Hillary Clinton in Saranda.

Albanians like to show their gratitude for the American support of Kosovo. In Kruje, we spotted a bakery called George W. Bush Bakery (apparently, there is also a statue of the 43rd American president in nearby Fushë Kruje). Tirana boasts a street named after the man, Rruga Presidenti George W. Bush. Here in Saranda, look out for the bust of Hillary Clinton that adorns a micropark near Credins Bank.

Saranda: practical information

Where (and what) to eat in Saranda?

Our introduction to Albanian cuisine left much to be desired. Assigned to cover River Cleanup, a Belgian NGO working on cleaner rivers, we were stationed at a so-called ‘eco-resort’ in the countryside surrounding the Albanian capital, Tirana. Culinary delights were sorely lacking. Each day brought forth the same uninspired fare: half a chicken for the carnivores, bland white rice for the vegetarians (although we managed to negotiate some side dishes). On top of that, the raw milk made me sick. Little did we know that this underwhelming experience was far from indicative of Albania’s culinary landscape. The cuisine of the country is great, a delightful fusion of Balkan and Italian influences.

  • In Saranda, after the long bus ride from Tirana, we rediscovered our taste buds when we stepped into the first restaurant we saw. In Garden Taverna, a cosy family restaurant on the seaside boulevard, we paid less than ten euros for two delicious plates of spaghetti Napoletana and two beers (1100 lek, €9,30, May 2022).
having spaghetti in the Garden Taverna in Saranda
  • Souvlaki combines great flavour with affordability, making it a staple throughout Albania for budget-conscious travellers like ourselves. Imagine a warm pita bread with lettuce, tomatoes, crunchy cucumbers, garlic sauce and fries. (We opted for the vegetarian option, the real deal comes with meat, of course). Not only delicious but also dirt cheap. Even in touristy Saranda, a portion rarely costs more than 200 lek (May 2022). Check out the shacks near the port or on the seaside boulevard.

Where to stay in Saranda?

As you can expect in a popular tourist destination, there are plenty of options to stay. We booked a room in a small, family-owned guesthouse on the outskirts of the city. Initially, we booked for three nights, then asked nicely if we could stay for two more weeks. The family gave us a good deal on a room with a kitchenette, a balcony and a view over the bay. As a token of appreciation for staying in the off-season, the grandparents also offered us a bottle of homemade wine and a jar of jam. They didn’t speak a word of English, but the grandson happily assisted with translations. The initial three-day booking cost us 4200 lek, equivalent to just €35,50.

How to get to Saranda?

There are several ways to reach Saranda:

Bus from Tirana

The bus journey from Tirana takes a long time, especially if, like us, you have to endure the babbling of a middle-aged American. The journey became more tranquil as we left Gjirokastër and ascended the mountains, leaving the American traveller noticeably quieter. With every hairpin, he turned paler. The last thing I heard him whisper was that no way he’d take the same route out, no way he’d suffer through this hell again, he’d surely get a flight from Corfu! To be honest, the journey was far from as arduous as some of the experiences we’ve had on chicken bus routes in Central America.

Our driver stopped at a mineral water source where you can fill up. Make sure you have an empty water bottle.

  • Buses to Saranda leave Tirana at 5:30, 7:30, 8:30, 9:45, 12:30, 16:00 and 22:00 (May 2022, double-check at the bus station).
  • Buses to Tirana leave Saranda at 5:00, 6:30, 8:30, 9:30, 10:45, 14:00 and 22:00  (May 2022).
  • We paid 1700 lek for a ticket from Tirana to Saranda, almost 15 euro, although the ticket prices advertised in the Saranda bus station were 1500 lek to Tirana, 1400 lek to Durrës, 1000 lek to Fier, 500 lek to Tepelenë and 400 lek to Gjirokastër (May 2022).

Bus from Vlora along the Albanian Riviera

This might be the most scenic option. A bus takes you from Vlora to Saranda along the picturesque Albanian Riviera.

Bus from Athens

Travellers can also take the bus that leaves Athens for Tirana in the evening. Disembark at Gjirokastër and travel onwards to Saranda. This is a viable option for those coming from anywhere else in Albania as well; the initial leg usually involves taking a bus to Gjirokastër.

Boat from Corfu

A different option for travellers coming from Greece is to take a boat from Corfu.

On these Greek islands, life is so laid-back that people forget to die

Everyone knows Kos, Corfu, Crete or Santorini, but Greece has more than 200 inhabited islands. And they all have something to offer. We visited Skopelos and Ikaria – lesser known but far from unloved scions of the Greek archipelago. Where the rule is: Long live the long life!

So this is what the Scottish-American naturalist John Muir meant, we ponder as we dangle with our full weight from a stem of smilax, when he signalled: “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” After a life-and-death match, half a tree tumbles down. Smilax is the evil cousin of ivy, its vicious thorns cleave right through our work gloves; it’s a creeper which, when you start paying attention, leaves no half-square metre of Skopelos untouched. And precisely that is a problem because as volunteers for Skopelos Trails, we have committed ourselves for a fortnight to keeping the hiking trails of this island in the Northern Sporades free from such obstacles.

Clearing kalderimi for Skopelos Trails.

Greeks wouldn’t be Greeks if they hadn’t tied a myth to smilax. When Crocus, a mortal man, and a forest nymph named Smilax fell head over heels in love with each other, the gods turned them into a flower and a bramble, respectively. The latter, you guessed it, was called smilax, the “girl swinging in the air” according to the Greek epic poet Nonnus. Not as painful, but at least as persistent: Spanish broom. With pruning shears, we raze it to the ground. “Be glad it’s not in bloom yet”, says Heather Parsons. “The little yellow flowers are so pretty that you can’t bear to eliminate them.” And so every plant has its manual.

Originally from Great Britain, Heather has lived on the island for almost 40 years. As the driving force behind Skopelos Trails, she is trying to restore the kalderimi, cobbled paths, sometimes centuries old, that connect hamlets, churches and water sources. These kalderimi were once used by sheep herders or by farmers during the harvest of resin, an ingredient of retsina.

“When I arrived here, everyone walked.” Cars didn’t exist on the island, except for a few pickup trucks to transport farmers to their lands. “The islanders were so happy they didn’t have to walk anymore”, Heather laughs. “Until they started getting strokes. Before that, they drank like fishes and smoked like chimneys, but they didn’t have the same health problems. Though they preferred to swear off booze and cigarettes rather than to start walking again.” And so the old paths fell into disrepair – overgrown with bushes at best, bulldozed over at worst.

Strings from the letterbox

Skopelos has no airport, but the sea route is not a punishment. From Volos, we sail for four-and-a-half hours. A welcoming committee awaits at each port – Greek islands live to the rhythm of the ferries’ sailing schedule. The arrival on Skopelos is majestic. The eponymous capital looks like an amphitheatre around the bay – small, white houses climbing up four hills, with a ruined castle on top like a crown on a head. “It smells like honey here”, says Anete as we step off the boat. The sweet scent of blossoms and the citrus hues of Aleppo pines sting our noses.

on the "roof" of Skopelos, overlooking the houses

Skopelos Town is a postcard, a cobweb of steep alleys, full of pastel-coloured flower pots and pomegranate trees, a maze in which only alley cats seem to know their way around. A few years ago, Dutch author Jan Terlouw lamented that suspicion infiltrated society, that strings were no longer hanging out of letterboxes. On Skopelos, nobody locks their doors. And in Pension Sotos, where we stay, a string effectively dangles from the letterbox. The place always bustles with life. At the front door, befriended passersby shout at the landlady, “Alexandra!”

When we’re not working, we explore the island. Skopelos is known as the greenest dot in Greece, maybe even in the Mediterranean Sea. More than three-quarters of its surface is covered with pines, holm oaks and plane trees. A sea of green, coloured here and there by pink strawberry trees. On a day off, we traverse almost the entire island, through leafy forests of Lebanon cedars. Narrow paths wind up to the fire watch station on top of Delphi, Skopelos’ highest point, and across gravel to mysterious, carved pirate graves. We walk through orchards, past tiny churches in which a faithful or three fit, refresh ourselves at water sources and end with a splash in a rocky bay. For hours, we encounter only a herd of goats.

Heather also organises a weekly hike, which draws a  crowd of locals, volunteers and expats alike. Skopelos enchants people. When Heather asked a former Romanian volunteer if he would look after her dog, the volunteer promptly jumped into his car in Bucharest. He drove all night and now lives on Skopelos. We can relate to that. Under an olive tree, we chew away our sandwiches. In a field among daisies, cornflowers and wild asparagus (which Heather will use in a salad that evening), our eyes feast on the view of the Aegean Sea. We have just cut the tunnel of greenery around a path that winds picture-perfectly up to a whitewashed church. A Herculean task that took us hours, even though you walk all the way to the top in minutes. Think about that next time you go hiking.

Religious raves

Ikaria, two weeks later. In the capital, Agios Kirykos, a pirate-faced man drives by in a pink Smart, followed by Socrates on a moped. We have only been on this island near the Turkish mainland for a few days but already feel like we know the whole village. Heather had recommended Ikaria to us as an alternative to busier Samos. “People get very old there”, she said. “There are even stories of emigrated locals who returned to die and lived for years afterwards.” The island belongs to the Blue Zones, five areas of the world where people stubbornly refuse to die. A third of islanders reach 90, which prompted The New York Times to call Ikaria “the island where people forget to die.” Dementia and other chronic diseases are also conspicuously absent here.

the beach of Therma, on the island of Ikaria

Presumably, the lifestyle and eating habits have something to do with it. First of all, on Ikaria, there is time, lots of time – to eat peacefully, take a nap or chat with whoever happens to pass by. A wholesome diet does the rest. Fruit and vegetables – the locals are God-fearing orthodox and fast half the year -, olive oil, herbal teas, goat’s milk and, above all, generously filled glasses of red wine. Because the birth island of Dionysos, the god of the noble grape, knows how to party. The Panigiria, a kind of religious raves that often culminate in wild bacchanalia, take place mostly in the summer.

We visit in spring and are forced to limit ourselves to that other activity that explains the toughness of the Ikarians: walking. For here, too, the car made a late appearance. For a long time, the islanders walked everywhere. Ikaria is much rockier than Skopelos. The rough terrain encourages scrambling – even a stroll to your neighbour’s house has traditionally been a significant undertaking.

At Faros, in the northeastern tail of the island, we hike to the fortress of Drakano – which explicitly solicits for a starring role in the next Game of Thrones. A flamingo flaps away in front of a candyfloss lens cloud. Over a ridge, we climb to the highest point of Ikaria. Now we understand why Icarus got so excited by the views that he wanted to fly higher and higher, until his wings of wax melted in the sun. According to that legend, he thundered down in the sea somewhere here – hence the name of this island.

Soaking in radioactivity

After each hike, we end up in Lefkada’s hot springs. These are slightly radioactive – don’t expect a swim in Chernobyl, but still: some say the radiation is another reason for the population’s perseverance. Nothing like soaking stiff muscles in a warm radiation soup, while the colder waves provide cooling. Back in Agios Kirykos, we park ourselves on the terrace of a taverna. An affable woman in an apron clips a paper tablecloth onto our table, places a large carafe of wine on it and fetches plates of beans, okra, and stuffed peppers and tomatoes.

Lefkada radioactive hot springs.

At the adjoining table, a fat German with a rose-tinted face scowls. He wants to check into his hotel, but the manager won’t be rushed. “First, she said 11 o’clock, then 12.” He taps nervously on his watch, his blood pressure visibly skyrocketing. “But it’s two o’clock by now and I still can’t get into my room”, he spits. “Typically Greece! And that airport, have you seen it? Looks like Africa!” Why he didn’t book a holiday in the Black Forest, Gott only knows.

A couple of tables further, a few grey men are playing dominoes. They roll their eyes, grin and wink at us. Who will last the longest on the globe, them or him? On Ikaria, it’s best to plan as little as possible, or fate will interfere. The pirate drives by in his granny car, followed by Socrates on his moped. We order another frappé and let the world pass by. Here we are happy to live to be a hundred.

Skopelos & Ikaria: practical info

How to get to Skopelos & Ikaria?

Skopelos does not have an airport. Depending on the season, you can take a ferry from Volos, Skiathos, Agios Konstantinos or Mantoudi. The latter has a bus connection to Athens. There are flights to Icaria from Athens, although we preferred the boat from Piraeus, the capital’s port.

Best time to travel

Spring and autumn are perfect for hiking, summer is often too hot for that. In July and August, mostly Greek holidaymakers stay on Skopelos and Icaria. Booking is advisable, although even then you should not fear the kind of mass tourism of better-known islands.

Hiking on Skopelos and Ikaria

Heather Parsons compiled walks over old kalderimi in a compact guidebook, for sale on Skopelos or through www.skopelos-walks.com. There is also a good hiking map. The shops of Ikaria sell hiking maps as well.

Sleeping on Skopelos and Ikaria

>> Pension Sotos (Skopelos Town, Skopelos). 150-year-old building under a church tower, with charming rooms, pine wood floors and a patio with a lemon tree.

>> Rigas Hotel Skopelos, (Skopelos Town, Skopelos). This hotel is bigger and feels less personal than Sotos, but still a good and relatively cheap option.

>> There are plenty of other options in Skopelos Town.

>> Smaragdi Rooms (Therma, Ikaria). In a village just outside Agios Kirykos, where you see three ducks marching past from your terrace at the same time every day. Close to a beach, thermal springs and a wonderfully authentic taverna. It does not accept bookings at the moment, but there are plenty of other options in Agios Kirykos.

This story first appeared in Dutch in De Morgen Magazine.

Things to do in Famagusta, Northern Cyprus

Nestled in the corner of Northern Cyprus, a country recognised by Turkey and literally no one else, lies the city that the Greeks call Ammochostos and the Turks Gazimağusa. The rest of the world knows it as Famagusta. This historical pearl testifies to a rich past, influenced by all the empires and countries that left their indelible marks upon these shores. But Famagusta is also one of the biggest cities in Northern Cyprus, home to a large university and a youthful and outgoing population. We made our base in Famagusta for a week and a half and discovered that there’s a lot to do and see.

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