Thursday, 9 July 2026

Skanderbeg and Other Famous Albanians

A Man You Have Never Heard of and a Dish You Have Never Dreamed of

Some Famous Albanians

It used to be regarded as funny – or at least mildly amusing – to ask people to name five famous Belgians. The task’s assumed difficulty (it is not really hard), always felt like a mean-spirited attempt to belittle our peaceful and civilized neighbours who happen to produce some of the world’s finest beers. But asking the question about Albanians - much further away and with fewer cultural ties – feels less unreasonable.

Up to 10 million people identify as Albanian, roughly half being members of a diaspora covering Europe, North America and more. Even the 4.3m who are not part of that diaspora, do not all live in one country. 2.3m Albanians live in Albania itself (96% of the country’s population), another 1.5m live in Kosovo (92% of all Kosovans) while almost half a million live in North Macedonia, making up nearly a quarter of the population.

Kosovo
North Macedonia
Albania

And famous Albanians? I can offer one from each of the main communities.

The Balkans
Every place mentioned in the text, whether major city or village is marked in red

Mother Teresa (Saint Teresa of Calcutta) was well-known but not everybody knows where she came from. Tirana Airport is named for her, but she was born in 1910 in Üsküp in the Kosovo vilayet of the Ottoman Empire. So, was she Kosovan? They like to claim her but Üsküp is now called Skopje and is the capital of North Macedonia. Political turmoil in the Balkans meant that by the time she was 8, and without moving from Skopje, she had been a citizen of 4 different countries.

Mother Teresa Memorial House, Skopje, 2015
The house stands on the site of the church where Mother Teresa made her first communion. The church was destroyed in the 1963 earthquake.

Kosovo’s Pristina Airport bears the name of Adem Jashari – a very different figure from St Teresa. One of the founders of the Kosovo Liberation Army in 1991, he died in 1998 when Serbian forces attacked his family compound and massacred 59 people, mostly Jashari’s extended family. The dead included 28 women and children.

Awdem Jashari outside the remains of his bullet spattered compound

And to represent the country of Albania itself, there is Skanderbeg.

Skanderbeg – Who He?

​Skanderbeg may be little known in the English West Midlands, but he is huge in Albania.

Skanderbeg in Tirana's central Skanderbeg Square, 2019

A statue of Josef Stalin was erected here in 1951. Albanian leader Enver Hoxha fell out with Stalin and replaced him with Skanderbeg in 1968, the 500th anniversary of his death. Skanderbeg is still there; you can only find statues of Stalin and Hoxha unceremoniously stored in a quiet corner of Tirana Castle

The Career of Skanderbeg

Skanderbeg, was born Gjergj Kastrioti in 1405.

The 14th century had seen the first of the Ottoman incursions into south-east Europe, which would eventually lead to the whole of the Balkans becoming part of their Empire. Albanians first came under Ottoman rule after The Battles of Savra in 1385 and the Kastrioti and other noble Albanian families became sworn vassals of the Ottomans. Young Gjergj, like many boys of his class, was taken to Adrianople (modern Edirne), the Ottoman’s administrative centre, as a hostage to ensure the family’s loyalty. At Adrianople he was converted to Islam and received an excellent military training. His bravery and intelligence were spotted early and as he rose through the ranks, he acquired the title "Skanderbeg," - Lord Alexander - a reference to Alexander the Great.

By 1440 he was Sanjakbey (Ottoman military and administrative commander) of Debar district. Countries and borders did not exist as they do now, but modern Debar is in North Macedonia, near the Albanian border. It has a population of just over 10,000, three quarters of them Albanians. We paused there for coffee in 2015 while driving from Ohrid back to Skopje, and a short stroll led us to discover that they have a Skanderbeg statue in the local park.

Skanderbeg in Debar, 2015

In 1443 an army nominally led King Władysław III, King of Poland and Hungary, but commanded by John Hunyadi (also known by his Romanian name Ioan de Hunedoara.) headed south through what is now Serbia looking for a confrontation with the Ottomans.

They met an Ottoman army, which included Skanderbeg commanding 300 Albanian cavalrymen, at the Battle of Niš. The day was going badly for the Ottomans even before Skanderbeg and his men absented themselves from the battlefield. Whether the desertion was pre-planned or the consequence of Skanderbeg suddenly realising that he was on the wrong side, is uncertain, but he could never have become an Albanian hero by remaining an Ottoman administrator and junior commander.

Returning to Albania Skanderbeg reclaimed the fortress of Krujë by using a forged letter and raised his family's flag with its black double-headed eagle – now used on the flag of Albania.

Kastrioti Coat of Amrs

In 1444, after reconverting to Christianity, he united the Albanian princes in the League of Lezhë, creating an alliance against the Ottomans. As its leader, he spent much the next twenty-five years at the head of a disciplined but largely itinerant army of 10,000 Albanians, Slavs and Greeks, leading them to a series of unlikely victories over the Ottomans. He died, probably of malaria, in 1468 at the age of sixty-two. He may never have succeeded in setting up a viable independent Albanian state, but his actions seriously impeded Ottoman plans to expand into Europe.

Skanderbeg in Kosovo

The Kosovo War ended in 1999, so in 2001 Prishtina got its own Skanderbeg Square and statue. I have no good excuse for not having a satisfactory photograph of my own, but I have borrowed one from Wikipedia. It is the work of Resnjari and is reproduced here under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.

Skanderbeg in Skanderbeg Square, Prishtina


Eating Skanderbeg

Menus in Kosovo restaurants vary little, and most offer a dish called ‘Skanderbeg’. It is, I read, a development of a Serbian dish but is in no way traditional and never cooked in homes. You might assume it was designed for tourists, but surely there are too few of us to make it worthwhile.

On our penultimate evening, in Peja, I decided I needed to try it. There is no cannonical recipe, but my meal was described on the menu as a thin calf steak rolled around white cheese then breaded, deep fried, covered with a cream sauce and served with vegetables.

That sounded alright, but there were problems. Bread is one area where Kosovo excels, a variety of fresh bread is available with every meal, but a few days earlier I had eaten a schnitzel and discovered ‘breaded’ on an English language menu has little to do with bread. It means a casing of unknown origin which is hard but not crisp. The ensemble gave the impression that the minute (that is ‘60 seconds’, not ‘tiny’) steak had been folded up and stuck inside the case, rather than the ‘breading’ being applied to it. It was overcooked and dry, though partially redeemed by the vapourised remains of the cheese. The cream sauce piped onto the outer casing had been reduced to mere decoration in the cooking process.

It was a memorable meal, not for the culinary skills on display - which were minimal – but for its presentation. Search ‘Skanderbeg, steak dish’ on Google images and you will find nothing quite like it. This, it seems is unique to the restaurant of the Hotel Dukagjini in Peja.

This is what you get if you order Skanderbeg in Peja

The waiter carried it through the large dining room like a trophy. Approaching from behind Lynne, he walked round the table and placed it in front of me. I could feel his smirk on the back of my neck. He knew exactly what I was thinking, and what Lynne was thinking when she started laughing, and was enjoying it immensely.

I said, Skanderbeg is huge in Albania, clearly he is huge in Kosovo, too. Clearly he was a great man.


Tuesday, 11 November 2025

The Algarve (11): Carvoeiro

Carvoeiro, a Fond Farewell

How We Got There and Why We Stayed


Portugal
We have recently returned from our 35th visit to Portugal. 31 of those visits have included the Algarve, and of those 20 have featured Carvoeiro, indeed we have visited Carvoeiro every year since 2005 - except 2020, the baleful year of COVID.

My father retired in 1980 and bought a house on a golf course in Val de Lobo, a house that hosted many of our earlier visits to the region. By 1995 my parents found moving back and forth to Portugal several times a year had become increasingly wearisome, and they sold the house.

A younger me and the house in Val do Lobo (April 1992)

My father died in September 1999 so from 2000-03 we took my mother back to Val de Lobo during October half-term (one of the advantages of being teachers).

Unfortunately my mother's health deteriorated and from 2004 Lynne and I came to Portugal on our own. We tried a rural alternative, but it was not ideal, and arrived in Carvoeiro for the first time in 2005. Since then, we have returned every year (almost). We did not stay because we were afraid of going elsewhere, during those years our travels took us from 100oW (Mexico City) to 127oE (Kaesong, North Korea) and from 65°N (Stykkishólm, Iceland) down to 2oN (Malacca, Malaysia) – shame we never quite made the southern hemisphere. But that was travelling, and we also wanted a holiday, somewhere to relax that was warm, familiar and not too far from home. The Algarve was all those things, and Carvoeiro retained some of the atmosphere of the fishing village it once was, yet had all the facilities we could want. Knowing the area well, there was nowhere we needed to explore; we could visit where we liked when we liked - or simply not bother.

The Algarve (Carvoeiro underlined) and its position in the Iberian Peninsula (inset)
Val do Lobo is on the coast a little northwest of Faro, the regional capital

I started blogging in 2010 and have since published 10 Algarve posts (see end) and 8 more on the Alentejo – the region to the north – from visits preceding our Algarve fortnights. The only previous Carvoeiro post - The Boxes of Carvoeiro (2016) – celebrated a plot between local artists and the electricity company to brighten up the town’s streets. It is now time for a proper Carvoeiro post.

Carvoeiro
Carvoeiro grew around its beach where the fishing boats were based. This post is largely about that area, though later developments are spreading east and west 

Vilas do Mar

From 2005 to 2022 we stayed at No.1 Vilas do Mar. Vilas do Mar is a two-storey block of 10 apartments in the delightfully named Rua Cerro dos Pios (Little Hill of Birdsong), a short loop off the cliff-top road. It is an ugly building (hence no photograph) in a road lined with bougainvillea-clad, white-washed villas. The apartment was spacious and well equipped, though the walls were paper-thin. Fortunately, we very rarely had upstairs neighbours, but when we did, we heard every step they took and much more.

The Little Hill of Birdsong, Carvoeiro 2012

The block was end-on to the road with a pool at the back and a small garden at the front. The pool was communal, but the garden belonged to No.1. While other residents had only a balcony or small patio, we had space to relax in the sunshine and enjoy lunch and dinner al fresco.

Lunch in the garden, Vilas do Mar, 2007

Until 2008 we spent the last week of October (autumn half term) there, then we retired and our single week became a fortnight. After some experimentation, we settled on the first two weeks of October when the summer crowds have gone, but the summer weather lingers; unbroken sunshine can be enjoyed most days, with temperatures typically a perfect 26°.

We also got to know our landlords. Malcolm and Tessa divided their time between Essex and their other Carvoeiro property and we had dinner together once or twice on every trip.

Lynne with Tessa and Malcolm, Restaurante A Vela, Carvoeiro, 2012

The Boardwalk and Algar Seco

In the early days we used to walk on the cliff tops. In 2014 we arrived to find a new boardwalk across the cliffs. Although initially annoyed, I soon accepted that lizards, birds and other denizens of the brush would be better off without us tramping through their habitat - and the boardwalk provided better views along the coast.

On the Boardwalk. (2025)

Heading east takes you to A Bonica and Algar Seco. The soft sandstone cliffs are battered by the sea and (occasional) rain into fantastical shapes,

A Boneca and Algar Seco (2025)

At the bottom of the first flight of steps a right turn used to take visitors down to a café, now partly buried by a cliff fall a couple of years ago. Walking across the café terrace brings you to A Boneca,..

A Boneca (2025)

... a rocky pillar with an entrance.

Entrance to A Boneca (2025)

Once through the landward entrance there is the option of a seaward exit...

Seaward exit, A Boneca (2025)

...you would be well advised not to take it, unless you wish to sleep with the fishes.

Outside the seaward exit, A Boneca (2025)

At the bottom of the first flight of steps a left turn descends to Algar Seco where a hole in the cliff allows water to rush in and swirl out with more or less drama depending on the tide and the height of the waves. At low tide on a calm day, it is just an empty pool.

Algar Seco on a calm day at low tide (2025), The man with the backpack
would have been in difficulties otherwise

The Largo and the Beach

Walking west brings you to a headland above the beach. New this year (2025), is a statue of a fisherman. He is, presumably, wondering what happened to his village, while beside him, I am wondering how to make myself look even older than I am. Unlike the fisherman I appear to have cracked the problem.

The fisherman, Carvoeiro (2025)

Some buildings have different uses, but the descent to the Largo (Square) has changed little since 2014, it remains a steep 38m (120ft) descent.

Down to the Largo (2014)

The Largo has also changed little. Although called a ‘square’ it feels triangular with the entrance from the town being a truncated apex. The side we descended has long been dominated by O Barco.

The Largo and O Barco (2025)

The three café/restaurants on the other side have all changed hands, Xamor is our current favourite watering hole.

Lynne outside Xamor in the other side of the Largo (2025)

We can often be found there at beer o’clock, though sometimes we have a cup of tea and a biscuit on our balcony instead.

Beer o'clock (2025)

The base of the Largo opens onto the beach. When we first visited in 1982 my memory suggests traditional fishing boats were pulled up here (Carvoeiro has never had a harbour). There are still boats, and a winch to haul them up from the waves, but they would not be recognised by the man on the headland. These boats catch only tourists, taking them along the coast and into the many caves in the cliffs.

Carvoiero beach (2021)

Moving to Monte Dourado

When we first met in 2008, Malcolm and Tessa were much the age we are now. They enjoyed a full life in Carvoeiro, Tessa with the church and her book club, while Malcolm swam and played tennis. Well into his 90s he was a regular at Carvoeiro Tennis Club and claimed he was hitting the ball as well as ever – on the rare occasions he could get to it.

But age, as I am learning, comes with problems. When they felt the time had come to sell No.1 Vilas do Mar, we had ample warning that 2022 would be our last visit. They put us in touch with the owners of a property near theirs in the Monte Dourado development, we walked round to take a look and booked it when we returned home.

Monte Dourado is the same height as Vilas do Mar, but Vilas do Mar sits on a clifftop plateau, while Monte Dourado has little flat land around it. Going out on foot means descending, probably climbing another hill, followed by a second descent and climb. Unfortunately, our 2023 accommodation required us to climb the hill and then 40-50 steps up to our front door. I am not complaining, we knew in advance, but we were both surprised how tiring it was.

Monte Dourado, 109 Apartments on a hill top

Before leaving we visited Monte Dourado Recepção and enquired if they could offer us a ground floor apartment for 2024. They could, and by chance, it was next door to Malcolm and Tessa’s. Malcolm was not there, his travelling days were over, but Tessa was, with her daughter and son-in-law who have their own Monte Dourado property. We lunched with Tessa, and she suggested we use her apartment next year, when her daughter would take over the management.

So, in 2025, we were resident in an apartment that we had visited, many times before.

Inside the apartment, Monte Dourado

There were two advantages to moving next door. The open rear aspect unblocked the excellent view down over the beach,….

Our view over Carvoeiro (with Lynne's favourite 'pirate' ship passing by)

… and it welcomed the morning sun, so for the first time in Carvoeiro we enjoyed al fresco breakfast, as well as lunch and dinner.

2025 A New Year, a New Problem

In spring I attended my regular optometrist’s appointment knowing my eyesight was a little odd and suspecting I needed new glasses. What I got was a referral to the ophthalmology department of the Royal Stoke Hospital. The consultant diagnosed acute glaucoma, the pressure in both eyes was not just high, but alarming and damaging my optic nerves. Eye-drop treatment reduced the pressure, the immediate emergency went away, and I waited a couple of weeks for an operation to deal with the cause of the problem, and pop in a couple of new lenses to improve my sight and help keep my errant irises in position.

The damage to my optic nerves is permanent, and I have field of vision problems. I have informed the DVLA* who will either cancel my licence or send me for an official test, but in the meantime, I thought it wise to stop driving. Lynne has not driven on the right-hand side of the road since our year in the USA (1983/4!) and declined to take on the driving, so I cancelled our hire car. We have never visited Carvoeiro without a car and I wondered how we would cope.

New Experiences (1): Carvoeiro Municipal Market

We pre-booked an efficient and reasonably priced airport taxi and next day taxied to the out-of-town supermarket. We also used Carvoeiro’s municipal market for the first time, it is a short walk away but only opens from 7:00 to 11:00.

Carvoeiro Municipal Market

An elderly (says I!) man runs an excellent fruit and vegetable stall, but the fish market in the room behind was always closed. There is a good butcher and a shop selling delicatessen items and along with the shops in town they kept us fed and watered wined.

Inside Carvoeiro's Municipal Market: Fruit and veg on the left, the butcher down the end

New Experiences (2): The ‘Train’ to Ferragudo

A little road-train runs around Carvoeiro, and twice weekly heads off to the nearby village of Ferragudo.

Not much room left on the train

We had never bothered before, but this time, fancying a change of scenery, we boarded a 'train' packed with people old enough to know better.

Up the hill beside the beach

Carvoeiro to Ferragudo is 4.5km as the crow flies, but over the years we have watched Carvoeiro stretching ever further towards its neighbour. Ferragudo is also growing, and they will meet within the next few years.

Along the coast road towards Ferragudo

Ferragudo is a pleasant and still active fishing port…

Fishermen not actually fishing, Ferragudo

…staring across the Arade estuary at the city of Portimão.

Portimão across the Arade from Ferragudo

Old Friends

We usually meet up with old friends Brian and Hilary for sardines at Dona Barco in Portimão. This year they kindly picked us up on their way and generously detoured on the way back and waited while we did a supermarket shop.

Ricky came over for lunch from her windmill in Mexilhoeira Grande. Ricky is my fourth cousin and she and Lynne discovered each other during genealogical research. She is a long time Algarve resident and now a Portuguese citizen, and we enjoyed our annual reunion.

A Favourite Walk

Inevitably, we walked more this year than in the past. Any walk from Monte Dourado starts with a descent and Rua do Povo do Buro is the quickest (i.e. steepest) route to the Largo. It is disappointing, if predictable, that the ‘street of the donkey people’ no longer houses any donkeys.

Down the Rua do Povo do Buro

From the Largo we followed the same narrow road the ‘train’ had taken up the western (right-hand) headland. Rua do Paraiso (Paradise Street) is a pleasant walk in early morning sunshine, or a bit of a slog, depending on how you feel.

Up Rua do Paraiso

At the top, on the tip of the promontory, just below the decaying remains of a fort is a look-out point surrounded by a whitewashed wall where you can take a breather…

The look-out point

…and the annual photograph back over Carvoeiro. Travel companies, airlines and anyone else promoting Algarve tourism use a version of this photo,

Carvoeiro

Then we descended.

The main road into Carvoeiro from the north, splits as it enters the town (see map above). The inbound Rua dos Pescadores and outbound Rua do Barranco are separated by a line of apartment blocks, shops and restaurants. At the Largo, the end of Pescadores swings round to become the start of Barranco.

Pescadores (left) and Barranca (right) are parallel. Farol turns off right just after the start of Barranca

The photograph also shows Estrado do Farol (Lighthouse Road) – aka Restaurant Hill - turning off to the right. Not all Carvoeiro’s restaurants are on this street, but it has enough to occupy a discerning glutton for several weeks without repetition, hesitation or deviation. It is not part of this walk, but for those interested in Algarve cuisine, click here for my annually updated 'Eating the Algarve' post.

Descending Restaurant Hill after an excellent dinner

Our walk continued up Rua do Pescadores; it is always wiser to face oncoming traffic. Away from the Largo it is much the quieter road, being narrower and more shaded, and with fewer shops and restaurants.

Looking back down Rus dos Pescadores

There is not much to see, but I have always liked the building below. Despite occupying an oddly shaped plot, the design and decoration are very traditional.

Photographed in 2006, when the building was freshly restored

Near the top is the Padaria e Pastelaria Fabrica Velha (Old Factory Bakery and Pastry), our favourite place for morning coffee.

Fabrica Velha

The road is less shaded here, sitting on the terrace is like being bacon under a grill. We go inside…

Inside Fabrica Velha

…and usually order a café com leite and a pastel de nata each. ‘Portuguese tarts’ are now popping up in coffee shops all over the UK. Some are not bad, others regrettable, but this is how it should be done. And it is not just the pasteis de nata, every delight here is baked fresh on the premises.

Café com leite e pastel de nata,
Tão bom quanto possível!

From there we walked down the more dynamic left-hand side…

Rua do Barranca

It is wider and lined with businesses…

Rua do Barranca

…including a geladaria we have been known to patronise – though not (of course!) straight after coffee and cake.

I must point out I am holding Lynne's ice cream while she takes the photo
I have not bought two just for me

We did pause in the little Supermercado Bom Dia, because when you must carry everything you buy to the top of a hill, grocery shopping should be little and often.

In Conclusion

We actually enjoyed being car free, it was surprisingly relaxing – and there is nowhere within range we have not visited at least once. It made us look more closely at the place we were and see things we had previously missed. There was, though, a fly in the ointment. Every time you go out in a car, you come back up the hill in a car, when you always go out on foot, you always walk back up. Lynne was struggling, and every climb hurt, though she carried on gamely. After ten days or so, I was feeling fitter, I was going up the hills faster and with less puffing. But, descending Rua do Povo do Buro at beer o’clock on our penultimate day I felt a tendon tweak. I was hobbling on the last day, limping for the next week and I could still feel it a week after that. Holiday time is precious and I would resent spending any of it in hospital having my Achilles tendon welded back together. I joined Lynne’s No More Hills campaign.

A year ago I imagined we would be coming back to Malcolm and Tessa’s apartment for several years yet, but we will inevitably become (even) older and the hills will become ever more daunting. So, after twenty years, we have decided to bid a reluctant goodbye to Carvoeiro. We are not finished with Portugal yet; Alvor, just west of Portimão seems pleasant and flat so maybe that is our next destination.

 *British readers know about the DVLA, but for the benefit of the majority of visitors to this site: the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority is a bureaucratic behemoth located in Swansea.  They are responsible for licensing the UK's 42m vehicles and 57m drivers.

Sad Update: Malcolm died on the 14th of November. at the age of 93. We always enjoyed his company and he will be missed, particularly, of course, by Tessa. His was a long life, well lived.