I’ve lived in Saranda most of my life.


 

Sold apartments with sweeping sea views, guided couples through beachfront properties, helped investors secure beautiful homes across the Albanian Riviera. But nothing—and I mean nothing—prepared me for the quiet lessons I learned after spending a full month in a small, nearly-forgotten village, hidden in the hills above Borsh.


 

It started as a personal challenge.

What would happen if I unplugged from the rush of coastal life, stepped away from the buzz of building sites, viewings, and contracts… and lived how some of our ancestors still live? Off-grid, more or less. One market a week. No Wi-Fi. Goat bells instead of email pings.


 

And so, with just a backpack, a notebook, and a stubborn curiosity, I headed inland.


 


 

A Village Without a Name (Well, Almost)


 

I won’t name the exact village—partly because it’s home to just 12 people and they probably wouldn’t appreciate becoming a tourist spot overnight. But I’ll tell you this: it sits somewhere between Kuç and Picar, nestled between olive groves, crumbling stone houses, and the kind of silence you don’t find anymore.


 

The only way in is a narrow road that turns into gravel halfway up. I had to leave my car at the base and walk the last kilometer, which felt like a metaphor for the whole experience—leaving modern convenience behind, one rocky step at a time.


 


 

Mornings with Mist and Turkish Coffee


 

Every morning, I’d wake up to a thin veil of mist sitting on the valley like a blanket. The old man who hosted me, Leka, was up before sunrise boiling water over an open flame outside his stone house. His wife served coffee the old way—bitter, thick, in tiny porcelain cups that looked older than my entire real estate career.


 

They didn’t speak much. But they said everything through action.


 

One morning, I tried to help Leka with the goats. Total disaster. I stepped in something I shouldn’t have, slipped, and scared the poor animals halfway to Gjirokastra. He just laughed and handed me a chunk of warm cheese as a consolation prize. I swear it tasted better than anything I’ve ever had at a beachfront restaurant.


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