Beyond the Coast: The Albania Tourists Don’t See – and Might Not Want to Share

If you’ve spent any time on Instagram lately searching for #AlbanianRiviera, you’ve probably seen what everyone else sees—crystal water, white villas, stylish rooftops, and perfect seaview apartments with a glass of wine on the balcony.

And don’t get me wrong—those places are real. I help people buy them every week. One of our clients just moved into White Residence and is already booking it solid for the summer season.

But I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the version of Albania that doesn’t show up on those feeds. The part that lives quietly, far from the beach clubs and resort developments. The version that’s slower, more rugged, and honestly… deeper.

So let’s step off the main road for a bit. Past the beachfront property. Past the apartments in Ksamil. Past the infinity pools. I want to take you somewhere else.

The Mountains Are Still Watching

Last month I drove up to the village of Nivicë—just to clear my head, honestly. It’s up in the Kurvelesh region, a place most tourists will never go unless someone like me convinces them to. The road twists and climbs past terraced olive groves and abandoned stone homes, some of them still standing with roofs from 1930s.

But when you get there—when you stand on that ridge and look down at the valley—there’s something grounding about it. The mountains feel like they’ve been watching everything, quietly, while the rest of the country rushes ahead.

I met an old couple drying mountain tea on their porch. They’d lived there their whole life. Their daughter had moved to Tirana, but they never left. They asked me if I wanted some bread. Just… bread. No Instagram moment. No filtered sunset. Just warm bread, a bit of gjizë, and silence.

Hidden Lakes and Places Without Names

A lot of people ask me what’s still left to discover in Albania.

The answer? Pretty much everything that’s not already on Booking.com.

There’s a quiet beauty in the places that haven’t been written about yet. Lakes that don’t appear on Google Maps. Trails that were once goat paths, now half-swallowed by wild herbs and time. One of my favorite spots—though I almost don’t want to mention it—is a small lake hidden in the hills between Delvinë and Finiq. Locals just call it “liqeni pas kodrës.” The lake behind the hill.

You reach it after a rough drive, followed by a ten-minute walk through fig trees and forgotten stone walls. No road signs. No cafes. Just still water, the sound of dragonflies, and maybe a heron if you’re lucky.

I took a client there once—someone who had come down from northern Europe looking for a beachfront property in Ksamil. But after we visited the usual listings, I offered to show them “a place I’d never sell.” We sat by the water, not talking much, just listening. They later told me it was the best part of their trip.

And that’s the irony, really. The moments that make people fall in love with Albania aren’t always the ones they came looking for.