Few places carry the scars of a communist past as visibly as Albania. In Tirana and beyond, relics of a brutal regime are still etched into the landscape.
Coca-Cola was the first product to arrive after the fall of communism. For many Albanians, it became more than a drink, it was the taste of freedom. They proudly displayed their first can on the mantelpiece, a trophy of modernity.
Bananas made their debut around the same time. Eri, our guide in Tirana, told us about his parents’ initial scepticism about such odd-shaped fruits. Street vendors had to teach customers how to peel them. For Eri’s grandfather, the sudden influx of Western products was confusing.
“Bring me a banana,” he told his son one day.
When the son returned with the fruit, Grandpa frowned. “No, not this one. The red banana,” he said. To him, all these new, exotic items – from soda to chewing gum – were just different types of bananas.
Albania harbours no nostalgia for its communist past
Unlike other former communist countries, Albania harbours little nostalgia for its authoritarian past. Its regime was uniquely brutal, defined by extreme self-isolation. “By the 1960s, Albania’s leader Enver Hoxha accused the Soviet Union of not being communist enough,” explained Eri. The country then aligned with China, and schoolchildren sang Mao’s praises. Meanwhile, Chinese television broadcasted Albanian films, presenting them as ‘European classics’. But, even China was not communist enough for Hoxha, who eventually severed ties with everyone.
This isolation plunged the nation into economic despair, culminating in widespread famine during the 1980s. Under Hoxha’s rule, paranoia permeated every aspect of life. Collective punishment meant that if someone displeased the regime, they and their extended family – sometimes relatives they had never met – would face harsh consequences. They regularly ended up in Spaç. In this copper mine, the Siberia of Albania, an unknown number of political prisoners died from exhaustion, torture, or with a bullet in their back while trying to escape. We heard stories, perhaps apocryphal, of entire villages banding together to escape—seventy people strong—trekking through the mountains in a desperate bid for freedom. Leave no one behind.
These are some of the relics of the communist past that we encountered during our journey through Albania:
Bunkers
Communist Albanians were masters at building bunkers. Under Hoxha’s rule, the country built hundreds of thousands of bunkers. No one really knows exactly how many, estimates range from 170,000 to 750,000. Terrified that the USA and the Soviet Union would invade Albania simultaneously, Hoxha hoped these concrete domes would repel those attacks. “If we slackened our vigilance even for a moment or toned down our struggle against our enemies in the least,” Hoxha warned, “they would strike immediately like the snake that bites you and injects its poison.” Appearing across mountain ranges, through vineyards and on beaches, Albania’s bunkers became a symbol of Hoxha’s paranoia and the country’s subsequent isolation.
Military preparedness was drilled into Albanian society. Even twelve-year-old boys trained to defend their country from imagined enemies. At least twice a month, men and women participated in multi-day exercises simulating an invasion. Armed with rifles but no live ammunition, they were instructed to defend their assigned pillboxes, small bunkers for one or two people. Larger command bunkers were permanently occupied and connected these smaller pillboxes in strategic lines. This bunkerizimi (bunkerisation) of the nation diverted resources from housing, infrastructure, and food production. The cost of a single bunker was comparable to that of a modest apartment, which contributed to a housing crisis and widespread famine by the 1980s.
The irony was profound—when communism fell in 1991, Albanians realised that much of the world barely knew their country existed, let alone made plans to invade.
Can you still see bunkers in Albania?
While visiting Albania, we didn’t spot as many bunkers as I’d expected. Many have been destroyed or disassembled over the years. Some have found new purposes as cafés, or art installations. Others serve as makeshift stalls selling souvlaki, changing cabins near the coast, or even rendezvous spots for horny teenagers. In rural areas, Albanians have repurposed them as cow sheds or storage spaces for farming equipment.
Still, we saw some in the wild landscapes of the Albanian Alps and others scattered along the long, winding road from Gjirokastër to Korça. It’s no surprise they remain most visible in these remote, mountainous regions—not only because Albania’s fear of potential invasions was strongest here, but also because their isolation makes them harder to reach for those looking to dismantle them for scrap metal.
Bad driving
“There are three things that connect Albanians,” Eri said. Number one: a unique language—one of the seven oldest Indo-European languages, spoken or understood by none of our neighbours and possibly the most difficult to play Scrabble in. Number two: Skanderbeg, the horse-riding hero that adorns most town squares. “And finally Mercedes-Benz,” joked Eri.
Fancy cars are status symbols in a country that once practically banned private ownership. During the height of Hoxha’s rule, there were only 3,000 in the country. Eri said this also explains the questionable driving skills of compatriots. “Suddenly, everyone was behind the wheel at the same time. Only later, they realised they might need a driver’s license.”
Organised chaos still reigns on the roads of Albania, an ecosystem in which honking serves as both a warning and a conversation starter, where traffic rules feel more like guidelines and drivers seem to rely on instinct as much as skill. Somehow, amidst the apparent disorder, a kind of rhythm emerges—chaotic, yet functional. If you find yourself caught in that chaos, don’t get annoyed. Just remember, you’re experiencing a unique legacy of communism.
The Cold War Tunnel Complex in Gjirokastër
Gjirokastër, Enver Hoxha’s hometown, was the first place in Albania where we found evidence of communist past. A modest sign pointing to a Cold War tunnel piqued our interest, so we stopped by the small office nearby. After paying 200 lek per person, a staff member unlocked a gate and guided us inside. Instantly, the air grew cooler and damper as we entered the tunnel complex hidden beneath the castle.
This 800-meter-long labyrinth of underground corridors and windowless rooms was designed to shelter an inner circle of the regime in case of a nuclear attack. The space included everything needed to sustain government officials for months: an air filtration system, dormitories, kitchens, and a stockpile of canned food. “Cooks and other servants had their own rooms,” the guide explained.
Each room bears plaques identifying its purpose—offices, interrogation chambers, even a courtroom. Though much of its original furniture and equipment was looted in the 1990s, what remains paints a chilling picture. Communist propaganda posters, rusting telephones, and uncomfortable-looking metal chairs evoke the bunker’s grim functionality. This tunnel felt far more sinister and oppressive than its more tourist-friendly counterpart in Tirana.
An American plane in Gjirokastër, a tale of two histories
Within the castle of Gjirokastër lies an old Lockheed T-33 Shooting Star, a training aircraft from the United States. A plaque beside it recounts three versions of how it ended up there – the facts, the American account, and the version told by Albania’s communist regime. According to the Americans, the plane ran out of fuel and made an emergency landing. The Albanians, however, insist they intercepted the aircraft mid-flight. It shows the complexity of history.
The House of Leaves
A two-floor building near the Orthodox Cathedral of the Resurrection of Christ, the House of Leaves served as Albania’s first maternity clinic from 1931. After a brief stint as the Gestapo’s headquarters during World War II, it became the operational centre for the Sigurimi in the communist era. Surveillance technicians of Albania’s secret police worked here, wiretapping phones, bugging apartments, and monitoring citizens for any signs of dissent. No one was safe. The Sigurimi considered nearly everyone “the enemy within.” The Sigurimi was ruthlessly effective at crushing any attempt to challenge the regime. At one point, one in three Albanians had either been interrogated by the Sigurimi or imprisoned in a labour camp.
Albania has long avoided confronting that painful communist past. Now, sites like the House of Leaves, which opened only in 2017, are finally starting to educate locals and visitors about this dark period. The museum reveals chilling details of life under Hoxha. Inside its 31 rooms, we see original recording devices, spy cameras, and even torture instruments. Everyday items like radios, handbags, and suitcase locks remind us of the regime’s methods. A wall listing executed political prisoners and video testimonies from survivors bring the trauma to life. The name “House of Leaves” refers to the ivy covering its facade but also to the thousands upon thousands of files documenting people’s lives.
Komiteti-Kafe Muzeum
Head to this part museum, part café that offers a nostalgic dive into the communist past of Albania. Its decor features furniture and memorabilia from that era. The bar, a maze of small rooms where you can escape, also boasts a big raki selection. You can taste around 40 varieties from different Albanian regions, alongside cocktails.
Bunk’art 1 & 2
There are two Bunk’arts in Tirana – Bunk’art 1 and Bunk’art 2. We only visited number 1, on the outskirts of Tirana. Carved into a mountainside, Bunk’art 1 was originally designed to protect Enver Hoxha and his cabinet from nuclear attacks. The idea came after a visit to North Korea, where it was common practice to build tunnels for parliamentary meetings. Bunk’art contains over 100 rooms, a vast assembly hall and even a cinema, but it was never used – Hoxha died before its completion.
Today, Bunk’art is a cultural and historical museum, combining art galleries with detailed exhibits on Albania’s recent history, from the Italian invasion in 1939 to the fall of communism. Stepping in through its four-part airlock system, you can immediately feel the intense paranoia that defined the regime. We walked through eerie, claustrophobic corridors and peeked into Hoxha’s private chambers, complete with much more luxurious furnishings than the rest.
We read the most heartbreaking stories, like that of Kostaq Stefa. During the Second World War, he had guided nearly 30 American airmen through the mountains, saving them from the Nazis. After the war, however, the young Albanian regime arrested him on suspicion of colluding with the Americans. He was sentenced to death, which was later changed to more than 100 years in the harshest labour camps. The next day, his young son brought him sweets, only to be told that his father had been executed by a firing squad that morning.
How to get to Bunk’art 1?
Take a bus to Linza from outside the Palace of Culture on Sheshi Skënderbej. Just ask the driver to drop you off at Bunk’art.
Bunk’art 2?
Located in the city centre near Skanderbeg Square, Bunk’art 2 is a former bomb-proof tunnel under the Ministry of Internal Affairs, now a museum that focuses on the history of Albania’s police and secret service.
Site of Witness and Memory, Shkodra
We passed by this site regularly but never visited. Between 1946 and 1991, a modest house on Shkodra’s main boulevard served as the regional headquarters of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Here, the Sigurimi, Albania’s secret police, interrogated and locked up thousands of people, before executing them or sending them to labour camps like Spaç. Today, the site is a museum that preserves the painful history of political persecution and terror.
The Pyramid of Tirana
The Pyramid of Tirana is one of Albania’s most peculiar reminders of communism. Designed by Hoxha’s daughter and son-in-law, it was originally meant to become a museum honouring the country’s leader. After communism, the building took on various roles – a convention centre, a military staging area, and a television station.
By the time of our visit, in 2022, the pyramid was crumbling. Stripped of materials, covered in graffiti, and largely abandoned, it symbolised Albania ’s rejection of its communist past. A year later, however, the pyramid transformed into a cultural centre. Visitors can now climb to the top and enjoy a light display in the evening. Despite the renovation, the pyramid remains divisive.
Stalin portraits for sale
Believe it or not, we spotted portraits of Lenin and Stalin for sale in the souvenir shops of Krujë.
National Art Museum
Communism touched every aspect of life in Albania, so it’s no surprise the regime’s ideals heavily influenced art. The National Art Museum in Tirana offers a glimpse of Albania’s past and present. It displays contemporary works, such as sound sculptures and photo essays, alongside an extensive collection of socialist realist paintings. The communist leaders subtly guided artists toward creating images of villagers in traditional dress, happy farmers and factory workers, a perfect idylle which contrasted sharply with reality.