Weeping in the name of overwhelming charm and beauty is a thing, right? Well, it was for me. I definitely had to hold back a tear or two. Maybe they were just tears of general happiness—or maybe it was the setting I found myself in.
Berat was nearly deserted. Tourist season had long since ended, and I had it all to myself. The weather was as perfect as autumn gets: warm, sun-soaked, and dipped in golden light. I wandered through the narrow, UNESCO-protected alleys of this timeless town, trying to take it all in.
Somewhere between the cobbled stones and the quiet hills, a deep peace came over me. I realised this trip wasn’t just a journey through Albania—it was a gentle farewell to my twenties. That chapter wasn’t officially over for another six months, but I could feel the closing credits starting to roll. I smiled to myself, thinking about all the places I’d been, the people I’d met, the adventures I’d stumbled into. No regrets—well, maybe just a few—but that’s another story.
Back to Berat. I loved it.
It’s a low-key kind of place, the kind that doesn’t ask anything from you. No checklist, no pressure to “do†it right. The best way to explore is simply to wander.
By day, the streets were alive in their own subtle way: kids playing, grandmothers balancing baskets of fresh produce, donkeys grazing by the roadside, fruit sellers calling out their prices. Locals often stopped to ask why I came to Albania and whether I liked it. Most didn’t speak much English, but the younger ones eagerly practiced what they’d learned in school. Among the older generation, Italian or German was your best bet for conversation.
A relatively easy hike up the hill leads to the castle that overlooks Berat. Inside the ancient walls, an entire neighborhood still exists—Kalasa. Picture whitewashed stone houses with flowering courtyards and fruit trees, old ladies selling bobbin lace and homemade jam from seasonal fruit. Everything felt so pure, so timeless.
Lose yourself in Kalasa’s winding streets, and eventually you’ll end up at the ruins of the Inner Fortress. That’s where the best views await—sweeping vistas over Berat and the surrounding valley. A stop in the tiny Onufri Museum, it’s worth the €2 entry (especially if you’ve got the place to yourself).
Take your time. Stop often. Sip Albanian coffee. Try all the food. I was invited into local homes for coffee more than once—free, yes, but with a strong moral obligation to buy at least a jar of sweet, homemade jam in return. A fair trade, if you ask me.
Each time I returned to my hostel, I’d stop at the same fruit stand to contribute to the local economy and buy a few pomegranates and apples—dirt cheap and impossibly juicy. Resistance was futile.
I don’t know what Berat is like in summer (probably bursting with visitors), but in October, it was nothing short of perfect.
The Town of a Thousand Windows—what an enchanting place.
Does Berat seem like a place you’d want to go?
The post “Visit Berat Albania and weep” first appeared on Travel Cake.
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