Beatrice Hamblett Photography

Drenove, Albania

3 min read

Stopover in Drenove


A trip to Albania in October resists planning. I make a schedule and promptly forget to follow it. Or I get sidetracked. A two-night stay in Korce seems enough time to get familiar with the town and the surrounding villages. But where to afterwards? Why not head south toward Permeti and bunk down somewhere along the way when It gets dark? But in spite of the long arduous drive, by five o’clock I am just leaving Lescovitz, too early to stop over for the night. So I drive on, photographing along the way. 

Turning off the main road at a small hamlet called Drenove, I park and begin wandering with my camera. High up in the village square, I encounter a woman bent at the waist gathering berries beneath  a giant mulberry tree. The air is heavy with the intoxicating scent of decaying fruit. Milate Elenika, I ask.  Antonia does indeed speak Greek and we waste no time getting acquainted. Meantime, her friend and neighbor, Flutur, joins us to gather berries too.. I take photographs of the two women and when baskets are full, we head to Antonia’s house where she insists I join them for coffee. Antonia’s husband, Vassillis, appears and says it will be a good year for mulberry raki, a popular alcoholic drink in Albania. Cookies follow the coffee and then more cookies. No one seems to be eating except me. This is the Greek way and evidently the Albanian way too. Flutur, which means butterfly, is laughing and gesturing and I feel like I am understanding her even though she speaks nary a word of Greek or English. She is full of hilarity and madness and periodically grabs my arm and smiles hugely.

Suddenly a small figure appears from inside the house and for an awkward minute, the conversation halts. The young woman is disfigured, one eye cocked, all features askew, like a Picasso painting. Did she speak? I’m not sure for Vassilis quickly slices the air with a violent gesture commanding her to disappear. The family’s dark secret vanishes so quickly I wonder if I really saw her. After, I feel a moment of sadness for the young disabled girl who seemed curious to get a peek at the stranger and listen in on the lively front porch conversation.

The chatter picks up again and now Antonia appears with glasses of raki on a small tray. I have hours of driving on torturous roads up ahead but it seems in Albania there is no worthy excuse for refusing a glass of raki. 

By nightfall, I arrive in Permeti and book a room at my favorite hotel in town. After a brief rest, I wander the back streets and end up at Hani i Kikes, my favorite cafe where the food is cheap and tasty—traditional Albanian cuisine. 

Drenove, Albania

3 min read

Stopover in Drenove


A trip to Albania in October resists planning. I make a schedule and promptly forget to follow it. Or I get sidetracked. A two-night stay in Korce seems enough time to get familiar with the town and the surrounding villages. But where to afterwards? Why not head south toward Permeti and bunk down somewhere along the way when It gets dark? But in spite of the long arduous drive, by five o’clock I am just leaving Lescovitz, too early to stop over for the night. So I drive on, photographing along the way. 

Turning off the main road at a small hamlet called Drenove, I park and begin wandering with my camera. High up in the village square, I encounter a woman bent at the waist gathering berries beneath  a giant mulberry tree. The air is heavy with the intoxicating scent of decaying fruit. Milate Elenika, I ask.  Antonia does indeed speak Greek and we waste no time getting acquainted. Meantime, her friend and neighbor, Flutur, joins us to gather berries too.. I take photographs of the two women and when baskets are full, we head to Antonia’s house where she insists I join them for coffee. Antonia’s husband, Vassillis, appears and says it will be a good year for mulberry raki, a popular alcoholic drink in Albania. Cookies follow the coffee and then more cookies. No one seems to be eating except me. This is the Greek way and evidently the Albanian way too. Flutur, which means butterfly, is laughing and gesturing and I feel like I am understanding her even though she speaks nary a word of Greek or English. She is full of hilarity and madness and periodically grabs my arm and smiles hugely.

Suddenly a small figure appears from inside the house and for an awkward minute, the conversation halts. The young woman is disfigured, one eye cocked, all features askew, like a Picasso painting. Did she speak? I’m not sure for Vassilis quickly slices the air with a violent gesture commanding her to disappear. The family’s dark secret vanishes so quickly I wonder if I really saw her. After, I feel a moment of sadness for the young disabled girl who seemed curious to get a peek at the stranger and listen in on the lively front porch conversation.

The chatter picks up again and now Antonia appears with glasses of raki on a small tray. I have hours of driving on torturous roads up ahead but it seems in Albania there is no worthy excuse for refusing a glass of raki. 

By nightfall, I arrive in Permeti and book a room at my favorite hotel in town. After a brief rest, I wander the back streets and end up at Hani i Kikes, my favorite cafe where the food is cheap and tasty—traditional Albanian cuisine. 

Details

Categories: Albania