Beatrice Hamblett Photography

Kozani, Greece to Korce, Albania

3 min read



Today I rose early and begin the drive from Kozani, Greece to Korce, Albania, breezing through border control—just a three-car wait. Almost immediately, the landscape gets peculiar as it always does in Albania. So many abandoned gas stations. So many collisions between 20th and 21st century. Cell phones abound as do horse drawn carts piled high with fresh-cut hay or just-gathered wood, plodding down the National Road as shiny Mercedes Benz over take them at breakneck speeds. 

Plodding along is more to my liking; I veer off the main road toward the village of Treni. I duck into the tiny village market thinking a purchase could result in some good photographs.

“Miremengjes!” Good morning, I say, and ask for yogurt, yiorti?

No, there is no yogurt or much of anything else—so I make do with a can of lemon soda. My usual  question, “Milas Ellenika?” Do you speak Greek, produces only puzzled looks. Maybe English? I ask two teenaged girls in the shop but they stand in a corner speechless with blushing cheeks and embarrassed smiles. 

Suddenly, a small gang of kids come running down the hill school bags bouncing on their backs. The young kids are bursting with questions eager to show off their newly-acquired English. 

“Come to my house—it’s just up there,” says a small boy pointing up the hill. All the kids want me to visit their house, meet their grandma, take pictures too. 

Evie, just 13 years old, has golden hair and Aegean blue eyes full of wonder. She is the spokes-person for the group speaking flawless English. First stop, Evie’s grandma’s house. 

“Can I meet your mama too?” I ask.

“I don’t have a mama,” she says, a ready answer without a hint of sadness. 

Her grandma sits me down on the garden wall and emerges from the kitchen with a bowl of grain and milk concoction. Not a pretty dish, but oh, so delicious. After, we retire to the living room, a simple room with few amenities except for two tired couches sagging comfortably towards the floor. Grandpa is stretched out on one and snores on unaware that visitors are present. Grandma sprints to the kitchen, grabs her teeth from a cupboard and then the whole family arrange themselves for a formal photograph.


Kozani, Greece to Korce, Albania

3 min read



Today I rose early and begin the drive from Kozani, Greece to Korce, Albania, breezing through border control—just a three-car wait. Almost immediately, the landscape gets peculiar as it always does in Albania. So many abandoned gas stations. So many collisions between 20th and 21st century. Cell phones abound as do horse drawn carts piled high with fresh-cut hay or just-gathered wood, plodding down the National Road as shiny Mercedes Benz over take them at breakneck speeds. 

Plodding along is more to my liking; I veer off the main road toward the village of Treni. I duck into the tiny village market thinking a purchase could result in some good photographs.

“Miremengjes!” Good morning, I say, and ask for yogurt, yiorti?

No, there is no yogurt or much of anything else—so I make do with a can of lemon soda. My usual  question, “Milas Ellenika?” Do you speak Greek, produces only puzzled looks. Maybe English? I ask two teenaged girls in the shop but they stand in a corner speechless with blushing cheeks and embarrassed smiles. 

Suddenly, a small gang of kids come running down the hill school bags bouncing on their backs. The young kids are bursting with questions eager to show off their newly-acquired English. 

“Come to my house—it’s just up there,” says a small boy pointing up the hill. All the kids want me to visit their house, meet their grandma, take pictures too. 

Evie, just 13 years old, has golden hair and Aegean blue eyes full of wonder. She is the spokes-person for the group speaking flawless English. First stop, Evie’s grandma’s house. 

“Can I meet your mama too?” I ask.

“I don’t have a mama,” she says, a ready answer without a hint of sadness. 

Her grandma sits me down on the garden wall and emerges from the kitchen with a bowl of grain and milk concoction. Not a pretty dish, but oh, so delicious. After, we retire to the living room, a simple room with few amenities except for two tired couches sagging comfortably towards the floor. Grandpa is stretched out on one and snores on unaware that visitors are present. Grandma sprints to the kitchen, grabs her teeth from a cupboard and then the whole family arrange themselves for a formal photograph.


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Categories: Albania