Socialist Realism and some Western Fantasies

In Praise of Bad Art

Let’s get the confession out of the way right at the start: I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like.

This is not, for once, the precursor to an ill-informed rant about ‘modern art’, it is merely a statement of fact. I studied sciences at school and engineering at university but when I became a teacher I returned to mathematics, always my favourite school subject (and that, no doubt, proves to some that I am, at the very least, odd). I spent my last art lesson, aged 14, as I spent most cleaning brushes and sharpening pencils, I had learned long before that any ‘art’ I produced would be not just bad but embarrassing, so I produced none – and have continued to produce none for the next 58 years. I am not going to change now.

Socialist Realism

But that does not mean I do not appreciate other’s efforts. This post is an appreciation of one, odd, quirky artistic backwater that we have encountered in our travels. Socialist Realism is probably of more interest to students of politics and sociology than of art, but I know what I like – and I like it.

The Leaders

The 1917 Russian Revolution was a major convulsion. The past was over, everything, including art, had to begin again. Many within the artistic community were happy to be co-opted into the new future.

An enormous head of Lenin, Ulan Ude in the Russian far east

Stalin, like Hitler, had no time for decadent artforms, but the idea of Socialist Realism emerged slowly, the term being first used in 1932. In 1934 the four guidelines of Socialist realism were laid out at the 17th Congress of the All-Union Communist Party.

Lynne and Uncle Joe, Stalin's birthplace museum, Gori, Georgia

Art must be:

1) Proletarian: art relevant to the workers and understandable to them.
2) Typical: scenes of everyday life of the people.
3) Realistic: in the representational sense.
4) Partisan: supportive of the aims of the State and the Party.

Waiting for the firing squad?
Stalin, Lenin, former Albanian leader Enver Hoxha (and some extras) stored in a rarely visited corner of Tirana castle

So how do the works above measure up to the guidelines?

An 8m high, 42 tonne head of Lenin erected in 1970 to celebrate the 100th anniversary of his birth is easily understood by all workers: it says THE PARTY IS IN CHARGE literally (almost) in caps lock. What it means for it to be in situ 30 years after the end of the USSR is another question. The other statues said the same, only more quietly, but their new locations have changed the message. They now say: the party’s over.

All are undoubtedly realistic, Lenin very much so. Stalin looks like he was carved in frozen yoghurt and is now melting, but it is obviously him. The Albanian examples are not such good likenesses, though they have been bashed around and Enver Hoxha is hiding his face with his arm. The stone carving at his feet is actually a good likeness of him, despite the smashed nose – the least he deserved from an ungrateful nation with much to be ungrateful for.

Enver Hoxha with broken nose, Tirana Castle, Albania

That they are partisan is unquestionable, but Guideline 2...?

Peasant Wedding, Peter Breughal the Elder
(public domain)

Well, three out of four is not bad, but Peter Breughel the Elder also scored 3 out 4 - several times. The Peasant Wedding, for example, is proletarian and easily understood, is a scene of everyday life and is realistic. As for supporting the aims of the Party, Breughel died 300 years before 'The Party' was born so could neither support nor oppose. However, he depicts peasants/proletarians as human beings with our well-known virtues and vices, so, I think, too much realism for Socialist Realism.

Perhaps the rulers are not the most distinctive parts of Socialist Realism, I see little intrinsic difference between a statue of Lenin and one of Queen Victoria or Winston Churchill. So, lets have a look at the Proletarian struggle.

The Soldiers

But first, a folk hero. David of Sassoun is the hero of the Rebels of Sassoun an epic Armenian poem of unknown antiquity, first written down in 1873 after a millennium or so of oral transmission. The soviet authorities cautiously approved of national heroes; if they could not be linked to any modern political faction, they could be co-opted to the proletarian cause.

David of Sassoun, Yerevan, Armenia

A statue was erected outside Yerevan station in 1939 to celebrate the (conveniently invented) 1,000th anniversary of the poem. It was destroyed in 1941 when sculptor Yervand Kochar was accused of praising Adolf Hitler, but Kochar survived and kept his gypsum original. In 1959 a new casting was made to belatedly celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Russian revolution. It was in poor condition when visited in 2003.

And the guidelines? Proletarian? Yes, a folk tale is a story of the proletariat. Partisan? Yes, David of Sassoun was officially viewed as a proto-communist. Typical? You cannot have everything! Realistic? Look at those tree-trunk legs!

And here we encounter a problem that runs through all warriors in Socialist Realism. Proletarian soldiers must look impressive, like this chap on guard at Gjirokastër castle in Albania…

Soldier, Gjirokastër Castle, Albania

...or, better still, superhuman like this intimidating group of North Korean heroes. This is realism only for the deluded. The man firing the gun (his forearm like David of Sassoun’s leg) sensibly crouches behind the shield, but the lunatic with flag clearly has a death wish. And the man just behind? A fine physical specimen, maybe, and remarkable clean, as men involved in warfare seldom are, but he is the only North Korean male I have ever seen sporting a side-parting.

Heroic DPRK soldiers, Fatherland War Liberation Museum, Pyongyang

We saw many soldiers during our week in North Korea. They were small, proud men in cheap, poorly made uniforms one size too large. No one below the rank of colonel gets a uniform that fits, or perhaps no one below that rank eats well enough to fill the uniform they are given. None of them looked like any of the group above.

Workers, Peasants, Men, Women and Children, More Fighters, More Leaders

Long Live the Great socialist October Revolution , 31st Anniversary (1948)
City Museum, Tallinn, Estonia

The men above, and the peasants, children etc immediately above and below exemplify the problem of Socialist Realism. Scenes of everyday life (and warfare) must support the aims of the party. So, soldiers must be heroic, and workers must be happy and thriving, and owe that to the party, and know they owe it to the party.

Long live the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic, 11th Anniversary
City Museum, Tallinn, Estonia

Somewhere in the corner, Breughal would have included a grumpy git, or somebody cheating in some way, but Socialist Realism cannot allow this, everybody must be cooperating happily. That you cannot please all the people all the time, is an immutable law of human nature and so Socialist Realism can never be realistic. The problem is not with socialism specifically, it is with mandating art to support the government.

When a leader joins his adoring people, realism is missed by an extra notch. Travellers arriving on Puhung metro station (one of the four stations on the Pyongyang metro open to foreigners) are greeted by no less than Kim Il Sung, the DPRK's Eternal Leader.

Kim Il Sung himself, welcomes us to Puhung station on the Pyongyang metro
Notice the miner's foot on the stairs, the DPRK is very keen on trompe l'oeil

Two Favourites

I will finish this section with my two favourites. The first is a mosaic on the façade of Tirana’s Museum of National History.

Albanian Museum of National History, Skanderbeg Square, Tirana

It displays the whole of Albanian history, starting with the Illyrians and Thracians on the left before moving seamlessly to the intellectuals of the 19th century Albanian Renaissance. On the right are the workers and peasants who saw off the Ottoman Empire in the early 20th century - one woman giving a distrustful backward glance at the intellectuals. All are led into the glorious socialist future by a worker, a soldier and an inappropriately dressed young woman with a right forearm that would not disgrace a blacksmith. She would be terrifying even if she was not carrying a rifle. Such works need to be treasured as many have already disappeared, been painted over or dismantled as Albania deals with its new reality.

Mosaic, Albanian Museum of National History, Skanderbeg Square, Tirana

The second is a painting in the lobby of the May 6th Hotel, Sariwon, North Korea which expands the delusion to a whole new level of ‘Realism’. The conceit here is not just that North Korea is a paradise, but that leaders from across the world recognise this and come to admire and seek advice from the great Kim Il Sung himself.

Kim Il Sung meets the people of the world, May 6th Hotel Lobby, Sariwon, North Korea 

Capitalist Realism?

Hitler’s tastes in art were apparently similar to Stalin’s and the Nazis promoted Heroic Realism which has a studied arrogance that Socialist Realism lacks.

"Capitalist realism" has been used to describe the Pop Art of the 1950s and 1960s and the commodity art of the 1980s and 1990s, but as a self-knowing play on "socialist realism". Search for ‘Capitalist Realism Paintings’ on google images and it is difficult to see the theme running through the results, although artwork from the Jehovah’s Witnesses magazine The Watchtower, does come up a few times; it undoubtedly has the style and lack of self-awareness, of the finest Socialist Realism.

But can there a precise western counterpart of Socialist Realism - when you are living the dream, why pretend? Yes, of course, there can, and I have two examples, one American which I call Hollywood realism, the other British, Imperialist Realism, perhaps..

British Imperialist Realism

The neo-Baroque head office of Liverpool's Royal Insurance Company was completed in 1903. It is now the Aloft Hotel where we stayed last year. A remarkable stone frieze sits below one window. The soldier-like figures suggest the British Empire is out there comforting widows and their children, building railways across the wilderness and erecting churches to shine light into the world’s darkest places - and all these activities are protected by the Royal Insurance Company.

Frieze, Aloft Hotel, Liverpool

The British empire was, of course, an unalloyed force for good in the world, spreading the benefits of civilisation and Christianity; it was never about exploiting the wealth or the inhabitants of far-away countries. There were people who believed that then – there are some who believe it now, even some in positions of power and influence.

Hollywood Realism

​In 2013 we flew into North Korea from Beijing, but returned by overnight train. We lunched in Korea, reached the border in late afternoon and rolled across the Yalu River into the Chinese city of Dandong in early evening. North Korea is the only country we have ever left with a feeling of relief and we savoured the welcoming bright lights, bustle and (yes) freedom of China.

We dined on the train after it left Dandong. In Korea food (for us) was plentiful if not particularly interesting and our Chinese dinner was like eating in full colour after our monochrome Korean lunch. But the Korean’s brew good beer, and the only beer available with with our dinner was Pabst, a brew which contributed fully to the USA’s former reputation as a beer drinker’s desert. More interesting than the beer was the artwork on the cans, a set of half a dozen, rather similar pictures, one of them reproduced below.

Pabst beer can - Heroic American Soldier, smiling, friendly and armed to the teeth
A can with bad taste inside and out?

The copyright of the above picture belongs to Interbrand and I have borrowed the artwork from their website. They inform me these special edition cans were made only for the Chinese market. I make no further comment.

Why I like Socialist Realism

I started by saying I liked Socialist Realism, I ought now to explain why.

I am not that keen on the leaders, but I love the cheerful pictures of happy workers, peasants and soldiers. But only a fool takes them at face value, behind every silver lining there is a cloud, a very obvious cloud in the case of the death-defying, North Korean, machine gunners.

Socialist Realism is, of course, fantasy, but it was conceived as realism, the irony in the name is unintentional. Many people are involved in the production of public art. A top-level decision is made to create, say, a mosaic, artists work on designs, a committee will choose the winner, workers will make the pieces and put them in place. I suspect somebody among them will honestly believe in what they are doing, though most will just get on with their jobs. But where is the belief? At the top? Among the workers? Surely not among the artists, or is it?

I love the ambivalence and ambiguity, though I admit they are easier to enjoy when they are safely in the past; some of the North Korean examples – and the American beer can – are more worrying.

…and finally…

The Korean Worker’s Party Monument in Pyongyang is a typical piece of DPRK bombast…

Korean Workers' Party Monument, Pyongyang

…but inside the circle of concrete blocks, just above head height, is a frieze, a relief of women, soldiers, children, aviators and more whose task is, apparently, to outstare the future.

Nobly attempting to outstare the future, Korean Worker's Party Monument, Pyongyang

I cannot believe there was not a knowing hand in here somewhere.

In a Similar Vein

Statues Without Plinths (2023)
Socialist Realism: In Praise of Bad Art (2022)
The Boxes of Carvoeiro (2016)

Praying Facing South: The Variety of Mosques Part 1

This post and its companions (Praying Facing East and Praying Facing West) have been developed from the November 2011 post ‘Three Favourite Mosques’. Although the world has many fine mosques we have yet to visit, we have now seen more than enough to make ‘Three Favourites’ a very limited ambition – indeed the 'favourites' now fill three post.

Islam is the world’s second largest religion with 1.9 billion adherents. It is the majority religion in 49 countries, centred on the middle east but with a vast geographical spread. In 2005 we visited The Great Mosque in Xi’an in China. Some distance away an English-speaking person with an overloud voice (his nationality was immediately obvious) was giving his Chinese guide the benefit of his knowledge of Islam. ‘They have to pray facing East,’ he announced.

This map comes from Wikipedia. It is the work of Tracey M Hunter, the figures are from Pew Research Centre
It is reproduced unchanged under Creative Commons Attribution- share Alike

Muslims, of course, pray facing Mecca, the city, now in Saudi Arabia, that was home to the Prophet Muhammed. To make sense of my collection of mosques I have split it into three, depending of the (rough) direction of Mecca. The mosques I have selected are old or beautiful or quirky or have an interesting history, or any combination of those four.

I should point out I am not a believer, in Islam or any other religion, but I do like religious buildings.

For ease of access and because I have occasionally broken my own rules, countries are allocated as follows

Facing East	Jordan, Oman, Egypt, Libya, Portugal	Arab Countries (with one obvious exception!)
Facing South	Turkey, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Georgia, Bulgaria, Albania, North Macedonia, Bosnia & Herzegovina	Countries wholly or partly in Europe
Facing West	Iran, India, China, Malaysia	An ethnic mixed bag

9 of the 18 are Muslim Majority countries, the other have or had an indigenous Muslim population.

Turkey

The Islamic world expanded dramatically in the century after the prophet’s death (632CE), much of the expansion coming at the expense of the Byzantine Empire. It was not until 1095 that expansion further into what is now Turkey prompted the Byzantine Emperor to ask the Pope for assistance. He sent the First Crusade, which rather by-passed Constantinople on its way to Jerusalem.

The extent of the Umayyid Caliphate in 750
The work of Gabagool and borrowed from Wikipedia under Creative Commons licence

The Byzantine Empire endured death by a thousand cuts, its suffering finally ending in 1453 when the Ottomans took Constantinople. As Istanbul is the only part of Turkey we have visited, this is where my mosques must be.

Istanbul has many to chose from. There was a mosque just up the road from our hotel in the narrow streets of the old Sultanahmet district. It was small, but the dawn call to prayer was so loud I thought the muezzin was sitting on the end of our bed. That said, Istanbul has 2⅓ of the world’s finest mosques.

Süleymaniye Mosque

If not perhaps Istanbul’s best-known mosque, the silhouette of the Süleymaniye Mosque across the Golden Horn is one of the city’s signature views.

The Süleymaniye Mosque and the Golden Horn, Istanbul

Commissioned by the Ottoman Emperor Süleyman the Magnificent, the mosque was designed by imperial architect Mimar Sinan and built between 1550 and 1557.

The photograph was taken from the top of the Galata Tower, see Istanbul (4) Taksim Square and the Galata Tower (2014)

The Blue Mosque

Built between 1609 and 1616 for Sultan Ahmet I, the Blue Mosque was the last great mosque of the Ottoman classical period. Despite its graceful cascade of domes and semi-domes, it was not without its critics. Such size and splendour, they said, was inappropriate when the Persian war was going badly and Anatolia was in a state of anarchy, and if that was not enough, having six minarets, like the Great Mosque of Mecca, was sacreligious.

The Blue Mosque, Istanbul

Despite the crowds we found the interior retained an air of calm serenity. The blue tiles that gave the mosque its name dominated, but there were pinks and greens too, and over 250 windows giving a feeling of space and light.

Inside the Blue Mosque, Istanbul

The huge dome is beautiful, but the chunky ‘elephant leg’ pillars required to support it look out of proportion.

The dome of the Blue Mosque, Istanbul

Haghia Sophia

Earlier I referred to 2⅓ mosques, Haghia Sophia is the ⅓. Door-to-door it is 300m from the Blue Mosque and the photos of each were taken from the same spot. Completed in 536, the church of Haghia Sophia was built for the Byzantine Emperor Justinian. It is perhaps the greatest architectural achievement of the Byzantine Empire and the Blue Mosque, built over a thousand years later, appears to owe something to its venerable neighbour.

Haghia Sophia, Istanbul

With the arrival of the Ottomans, Haghia Sophia became a mosque. The four minarets, rockets on ugly concrete pedestals, are regrettable, but inside the changes were sympathetic. I called it ⅓ a mosque, as it has been a church, a mosque and now a secular museum. Today the Islamic minbar and calligraphy….

Minbar and Islamic calligraphy, Haghia Sophia, Istanbul

…sit easily beside the earlier Byzantine mosaics.

Virgin and Child with the Emperor John II and his wife Irene, Haghia Sophia, Istanbul

[Update: As of 2020 Hagia Sophia is a mosque again. The Turkish government say all the Byzantine mosaics will be respected and treasured. Even so, it is a provocative move, it is not as though Istanbul is short of mosques. I believe the building would be best cared for by those for whom its history and beauty were primary concerns. But my opinion counts for....]

See Istanbul (1) The Blue Mosque, Haghia Sophia and the Bosphorus (2011)

The remainder of this post is in two sections linked by Istanbul the capital of the Ottoman Empire that took Islam into Europe, and along with Persia (now Iran) into the Caucasus.

Mosques in the Caucusus

Featured mosques in the first section are in Baku, Tbilisi, and Yerevan the capitals of the south Caucasus republics,
and in Șamaxi 120km west of Baku (so pretty well on the red ring)

Azerbaijan

Whether the three former soviet republics south of the Caucasus are European states is debatable. Armenia and Georgia think they are, and they do feel European, FIFA thinks all three are but Azerbaijan, the only majority Muslim state among them - and in many ways a detached corner of Asian Turkey - is more ambivalent.

Over 90% of Azeris identify as Muslims, but for many that identification is more cultural and ethnic than religious; after decades of state atheism as part of the USSR, they are not that bothered.

The Muhammed or Siniggala Mosque, Baku

The Siniggala Mosque claims to be the oldest in Baku, dating from the 11th century, though it appears to be a more recent building constructed on ancient foundations. Siniggala (damaged tower) refers to the, now repaired minaret. Stubby but still imposing in the densely packed low-rise Old City, it survives from the original mosque. During the Russo-Persian War (1722-3) a squadron of Russian warships demanded Baku’s surrender. Refusal was followed by a bombardment and the minaret was hit. The sudden storm that then blew the ships out of range was clearly a divine intervention, so the minaret was left untouched for many years.

The Muhammad (or Broken Tower) Mosque, Baku

see Baku (2); The Qobustan Petroglyphs and the Old City (2014)

Friday Mosque, Şamaxı

Şamaxı is a small town 120km west of Baku. The Friday Mosque is sometimes called the second-oldest mosque in the trans-Caucasus but it looks surprisingly new.

Şamaxı Friday Mosque

The first mosque on this site was built in the 8th century, but seismic activity and marauding Georgians and Armenians have seen off a few versions of the building. An early 20th century reconstruction designed by Józef Plośko, a St Petersburg trained Polish architect (and not the only Christian to design a mosque in these posts) forms the basis of the current building, though the major 2011 restoration encouraged Lonely Planet to call it a ’21st century masterpiece.’

Mihrab, Şamaxı Friday Mosque

See Baku to Şǝki(2014)

Armenia

Blue Mosque, Yerevan

Armenia claims to have been the first country to make Christianity its state religion when St. Gregory the Illuminator converted King Tiridates III in 301. However, Armenia is a small country and has spent much of its history wedged between the Ottoman, Russian and Persian empires, so foreign rulers came and went. The Blue Mosque was built in 1765–1766 by Hussein Ali Khan when Yerevan was the capital of his Persian Khanate. It was secularised in 1920 by the communist regime, but was re-opened in 1996 after the fall of the Soviet Union. Armenia has a Muslim population of under 1,000, mainly of Iranian descent, and this is the country’s only mosque.

The Blue Mosque, Yerevan - very Iranian in style

It sits unobtrusively in a dip beside the central Mashtots Avenue, so even the minaret hardly breaks the skyline. It is not generally open, but we asked the nice man in the Iranian tourist office near the entrance and he gave us the key. That was in 2003, I suspect they may be more security conscious now.

Blue Mosque minaret, Yerevan

Georgia

Georgia is another small Christian country that received unwanted attention from surrounding empires. Tbilisi was (off and on) the capital of an Iranian vassal monarchy from the 16th until the 18th century when the Georgians sought Russian support to free themselves. Like others who sought such help, they soon found themselves annexed by Tsarist Russia.

Jumah Mosque, Tbilisi

As part of the Soviet Union, Tbilisi retained a Shia and a Sunni mosque until 1951 when the Sunni mosque was demolished to make way for a bridge. The surviving Shi-ite Jumah Mosque took in the homeless Sunnis and has become the only mosque in the world where Shia and Sunni Muslims worship side by side.

Jumah Mosque, Tbilisi

Tbilisi sits in a gorge, and the mosque is in a side-gorge above the thermal spring. Among the spas are the Orbeliani baths, which look more like a Persian mosque than the mosque itself. Pushkin described this as the ‘most luxurious place on earth’.

Orbeliani Baths, Tbilisi

See Tbilisi (2014)

Mosques in the Balkans

Islam expanded in this area under the Ottoman empire which entered Europe in 1453 and finally retreated to the bottom right hand corner in 1918. Featured Mosques are in the ringed cities except in North Macedonia, where Glumovo is very near Skopje and Prilep is south of the 'E'

Bulgaria

Eastern Orthodox Christianity has always been the dominant religion in Bulgaria but active membership has fallen steadily in recent years. About 8% of the population identify as Muslims, a small number for a country that was part of the Ottoman Empire for 500 years and has a border with Turkey.

Banya Bashi Mosque, Sofia

Sofia has one active mosque, but it is a big one. Unsurprisingly Turkish in style the Banya Bashi Mosque dates from 1566 and, like Istanbul’s Süleymaniye Mosque, was designed by Mimar Sinan. Clearly Sofia was an important city.

The Banya Bashi Mosque, Sofia

Banya Bashi is built beside and partly over Sofia’s thermal spring. The name means ‘Big Bath’ and you can collect the warm mineral water in the square outside.

The hot springs outside the Banya Bashi Mosque, Sofia

See Sofia and the Master of Boyana (2007)

Albania

Converting to Islam under the Ottoman Empire conferred distinct advantages, and some 70% of Albanians were Muslims by the time the empire folded in 1918. For 45 year after World War 2, a nominally communist dictatorship imposed militant atheism. Freedom of religion arrived in the 1990s and was met with displays of mass apathy. Although 57% identified as Muslim in the 2011 census, a 2008 study in Tirana found that 67% of declared Muslims and 55% of Christians were completely non-observant.

Many churches and mosques were destroyed under state atheism – the current freedom has seen no great rebuilding.

The Et’hem Bey Mosque, Tirana

Et'hem Bey Mosque, Tirana

One mosque, though does have particular significance. The early 19th century Et’hem Bey Mosque sits in a corner of Tirana’s central Skanderbeg Square. Scheduled for demolition in the 1960s, it somehow never happened. In 1991 the mosque reopened without the authority’s permission. When 10,000 attended Friday prayers on the 18th of January 1991 and the police did nothing, it was a signal that the old regime had capitulated.

Et'hem Bey has the slimmest of pencil slim minarets,  typical of Balkan mosques.

See Tirana (2019)

North Macedonia

Like their close cousins the Bulgarians, ethnic Macedonians are almost entirely Eastern Orthodox Christians (though whether practising or not is another matter), but they only comprise 64% of the population. Around 30% are Muslims including the vast majority of the substantial ethnic Albanian community. Ironically the best-known Macedonian Albanian (though she was born in the days of the Ottoman Empire) was the Roman Catholic Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

Skopje has a few grand mosques, as befits a capital, several understated churches from Ottoman times, and a big modern cathedral, but I will start with a village mosque.

Glumovo Mosque, Near Skopje

Glumovo (it’s better than it sounds) is only 10km outside Skopje. For a village of 1,683 (2002 census) it has a huge mosque, but as 1,646 of those people are Albanians and most of the rest are Muslim Bozniaks, perhaps it needs it.

Glumovo Mosque

Pencil slim minarets are a feature of mosques in the Balkans, and Glumovo has two of the finest.

See The Matka Canyon and Stobi (2015)

Čarši Mosque, Prilep

Although Prilep, 100km south of Skopje, is North Macedonia’s 4th largest city, it has only 70,000 inhabitants. Unlike Glumovo its Muslim population is relatively small.

Macedonia achieved independence in 1991 without firing a shot, but in 2001 the Kosovo conflict spilt over into northern Macedonia with elements of the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) trying to inspire ethnic Albanian Macedonians to fight for a 'greater Albania'. For six months until a UN brokered settlement there was considerable fighting along the Kosovan border. On the 7th of August 2001 ten Macedonian soldiers, all from Prilep, were killed in a KLA ambush on the Skopje-Tetovo road. Protests on the 8th turned into riots and Prilep’s 15th century mosque was burned down. None of Prilep's Albanian population were implicated in the atrocity which happened 80km away.

Prilep's burned out mosque

In 2015 the failure of local and national authorities to sanction the rebuilding remained a bone of contention. It seems it still is.

See Prilep and Bitola (2015)

Bosnia and Herzegovina

If Prilep gives a taste of the destruction of the Balkans war, Bosnia provides a surfeit. In 2012 the buildings of Sarajevo were still pock-marked by bullets, but the worst destruction we saw was in Mostar. Nationalism waved its magic wand and families who had been neighbours, and even friends, for generations suddenly turned to killing each other. I find it difficult to understand; there is nothing special about the people of Mostar, so perhaps it could happen anywhere

Before the war the city’s population was, roughly 20% Serb (Eastern Orthodox Christians), 40% Bosniak (Muslims) and 40% Croat (Roman Catholic Christians).

The initial Serb siege destroyed the Catholic Cathedral, the Franciscan monastery, the bishop’s palace and library, and 14 mosques. After they were repulsed the Croats showed the same Christian spirit by destroying the orthodox cathedral, three churches and a monastery – and all but one of the 13 surviving Ottoman era mosques. Eventually in 1993 in an act of symbolic vandalism they destroyed Mostar’s emblematic bridge.

Mostar Bridge, Built 1557-66 by the Ottomans, destroyed 1993, rebuilt 2001-3 by Turkish craftsmen 

The Karađozbeg Mosque, Mostar

The Karađozbeg Mosque is not the largest or finest, but it has been serving its community on the left bank of the Neretva, the Muslim quarter of Mostar, since 1577. The war left it with a gaping hole in the dome and the stump of a minaret. It is now fully restored and open to worshippers and anyone else who wishes to pop in.

Karađozbeg Mosque, Mostar

See Mostar (2012)

The expanding Ottoman Empire swallowed Bosnia in 1460. Sarajevo was founded the following year as the administrative capital for the new Ottoman province and duly acquired an array of mosques to suit its status.

The Alipašina Mosque, Sarajevo

The Alipašina Mosque, Sarajevo, built 1561
Unlike churches mosques only occassionally have an associated graveyard 

In 1991 Sarajevo became the capital of the freshly independent Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina and was promptly surrounded by Serb forces trying to carve out a new Republika Srpska. The Siege of Sarajevo, April 1992 to December 1995, was the longest siege of the 20th century. 14,000 died, 5,500 of them civilians, 1,500 of those children.

Situated in a narrow valley closed at one end, Sarajevo was perfectly designed for a siege. Many of the Muslim dead are buried in the Martyr’s Cemetery which flows down the head of the valley. One evening we walked up to the Ottoman Yellow Bastion above the cemetery from where we could see the city laid out before us.

I could not count the mosques at the time, but I have found 18 minarets in the photograph (ringed in red). The Serbian Orthodox and Catholic Cathedrals (yellow) also stand out as does the bilious yellow cube of the Holiday Inn (blue) overlooking the notorious ‘Sniper’s Alley. As dusk fell the call from mosques started, not all together, but first one, than another, then a third. The sound swelled as more and more joined in, then gradually started to ebb until eventually there was one lone voice. It was a magnificent sound.

The Mosques and Cathedral of Sarajevo (and the Martyr's Cemetary) 2012

A friend who visited in the 1970s described Sarajevo as a perfect multi-cultural city, with people of different traditions living and working together harmoniously. Then it all went wrong, and now it is being put back together. Humans are good at restoring things, be they bridges or communities; it's a pity they have to destroy them first.

See Sarajevo (1) The Old Town, The New Town and Assassination of Franz Ferdinand

and Sarajevo (2) The Siege 1992-1995

Tirana to Saranda: Albania Part 6

South by the Scenic Route Beside the Adriatic and the Strait of Otranto

10/06/2019

Tirana to Vlora

Albania

Edi turned up on time and we set off at 9 for a 300km journey that would take most of the day. Albania has a coastal plain (with occasional interruptions) but much of the interior is a massif riven by a series of river valleys, mostly running SE-NW, and the roads follow these. Any chosen route is a compromise and at some point you will find yourself making a detour, because that is the way the roads go.

We started heading south towards Elbasan on the sort of road you only find in and around Tirana.

South from Tirana on the A3. Mullet is a village beside the main road 10km south of the capital, the city of Elbasan is 30km further

The road cuts through the hills…

Through the hills south of Tirana

…before entering a wide valley where we were able to take a more south westerly route and by-pass Elbasan We were not sorry to miss it, Enver Hoxha persuaded the Chinese to build a steel mill there in 1974, other metallurgical industries followed and the city of 120,000 people is now reputed to be the most polluted in Albania.

Agricultural country, west of Elbasan

We were largely reversing our route of two days ago, but this time not quite reaching Berat, though we had a good view of the Tomorri Mountains before swinging west towards Fier. We had passed through Fier when driving from Gjirokaster to Berat – one of those detours the mountains demand – and our quickest way from Fier to Saranda would be straight down the Drin Valley to Gjirokastër and then turn south west, but this was a day for the scenic route. We headed for the coast.

From Tirana in central Albania to Saranda in the south west corner

We reached Vlora around 11.15. Vlora is a pleasantly neat and tidy port, agricultural and industrial centre on the Strait of Otranto linking the Adriatic and Ionian Seas. The Italian port of Brindisi is 130km away, while the nearest point on the heal of Italy is only 80km distant.

We reach Vlora

Vlora sits in a sheltered inlet and the south of the city straggles down the inlet in a series of seaside resorts with shingle beaches.

Resort with single beach south of Vlora, with the Karaburun Peninsula in the hazy distance

The Llogara National Park

The inlet is formed by the rocky Karaburun Peninsula partially closing the mouth of the bay. The peninsula is an extension of the Ceraunian Mountains which extend for 120km south from Vlora to beyond Saranda. Further south there is a strip of coastal plain, but for 20km or so the mountains drop into the sea; here the road runs parallel to the coast a kilometre of two inland through the Llogara National Park.

Into the Llogara National Park

Established in 1966 (not everything from the Hoxha days is bad and wrong) the park is a mixture of forest (evergreen and deciduous), alpine meadows and rocky precipices. Near the coast the climate is Mediterranean, but becomes Alpine further inland where high ground is snow covered in the winter. The park is home to a wide range of species including griffon vulture, golden eagle, rock partridge, European wildcat, chamois, wolf and red squirrel.

The Llogara National Park

The steady but relatively gentle climb into the mountains ends at the top of the Llogara Pass (1,027m) in the shadow of Mt Çika (2,044m) the second highest peak in the Ceraunians).

Mt Çika from the Llogara Pass - not that the summit is included!

From here the descent to the Albanian Riviera is abrupt….

Looking south from the Llogara Pass, the large villages of Gjilek, Kondraq and Dhërmi in the middle distance are still some way above sea level.

…and involves many hairpins bends.

Descending the Llogara Pass

Dhërmi, the furthest and lowest of the three villages seen from the top of the pass is a seaside resort; 'loud music and parasols packed so tightly they touch' was the gist of one trip advisor review. The comment applies to the beachside hotels and bars, not to the dignified old village 200m up the cliff, and then only at high season, but there is no doubt the little town is set on development, regardless of topographical difficulties.

Dhërmi, near the bottom on the Llogara Pass

More hairpins remained to be negotiated. At Iljas, 4km from Dhërmi, the road descended to cross the Gjilpe Canyon and then climbed to the village of Vuno. In November 1989 this was the scene of the Llogara Tragedy, an event more suited to a Casualty series finale than real life. A bus carrying students from the Agricultural University of Tirana left the road and plunged into a ravine. The authorities sent two helicopters to transfer the injured to Tirana, but by the time the casualties had been loaded, fog had descended. With the weather forecast predicting conditions would continue to deteriorate the pilots decided to take off immediately; one crashed near Vuno, the other on the pass. 23 died, there were no survivors.

Himarë

We descended to Himarë, a larger, well established, seaside resort with the advantage of actually being beside the sea - the town is expanding north and south along its attractive sandy beaches. Edi parked on the seafront and gently ushered us to one of a line of restaurants across the road.

Himarë seafront

We sat on the terrace and waited while Edi had an extended conversation with the management, which he simplified to us as ‘the chef is off sick so there is no food today.’

We moved to the almost identical establishment next door and took up much the same position. We ordered tzatziki, bread, salad and beer, but before they came a minibus-load of elderly people arrived and sat round a large table in the garden. Both waiters advanced, pads in hands, and we watched as the menu was read, there was a show of hands, a decision was made followed by some dissension, another show of hands, another decision, further dissension and round again. I should not mock the elderly – I am one of them, even if I won’t accept it – but it did amuse us. Our food was only a little delayed, but we had hardly started when they brought another dish we had not ordered; we sent it away. At the end, our coffee came with an apology for earlier confusion. We had been very little inconvenienced by either the error or the slight delay, but they declined to charge us for the coffee.

Porto Palermo

A little further down the road is the pleasing sweep of Porto Palermo Bay. Once a Greek port called Panormos it was mentioned by Strabo (64 BCE-24 CE). It became Porto Palermo under the Byzantine Empire (Sicily's much larger Palermo underwent an identical name change).

Porto Palermo Bay

The islet joined to the mainland by a causeway is the site of Porto Palermo castle, often ascribed to Ali Pasha Tepleni. (We encountered this 18th/19th century tyrant in Gjirokastër. The efficient but cruel and ruthless ruler of the western Balkans under the Ottomans, became the personification of an ‘oriental despot’ in western literature after a visit from Lord Byron). The design, though, suggests the fort is probably older and Venetian in origin.

Tucked into the northern corner of the bay is what Google maps coyly calls ‘the cave of Porto Palermo.’

The 'Cave of Palermo'

It is, of course, not a cave but the entrance to a submarine bunker. Not so long ago taking this photograph would have landed me in jail for a very long time, but in the new Albania the authorities have generously built a viewpoint to help get the best picture I can.

Submarine bunker Porto Palermo

In 2014 Huffington Post ranked Porto Palermo first in its list of 15 Undiscovered European Destinations. Palermo was discovered a couple of millennia ago, but in the Huff Post’s somewhat parochial sense, it is still waiting.

Saranda

The last 50km to Saranda were uneventful, give or take the odd sheep.

Road block, south of Porto Palermo

We passed several crescents of shining sand. Development is happening and will almost certainly speed up, but at present the Albanian Riviera has most of Europe’s remaining unspoilt Mediterranean beaches.

Bay between Porto Palermo and Sarande

Saranda is by far the Riviera’s largest resort, but for all the tutting over its overdevelopment, it remains small by most standards.

We attempted to check into the Hotel Porto Edda, but they had never heard of us. There was some discussion, Edi showed the booking on his phone, and his boss in Tirana joined in, but the young receptionist was out of her depth, her boss was unobtainable and she lacked the confidence to make a decision. Not so our man in Tirana who quickly rebooked us into the Hotel Brilant (sic), 500m down the road, where we were offered a small room redeemed by a large sea-and-Saranda-view balcony.

Saranda

A cynical thought crossed my mind; our travel agent had originally suggested the Brilant, but we changed it to the Porto Edda as it was more central. Somehow, we had been manipulated back to the Brilant. Was it an accident? It mattered not, Saranda is small enough for centrality to be unimportant and we did like the balcony. Incidentally, Porto Edda was Saranda’s name during the Italian occupation - Edda being Mussolini’s daughter.

We took a walk to look at the town, scout out a restaurant, and buy some raki and ouzo (we weren’t in Greece, but we could see it) to take home. We chose a restaurant near the hotel, but it was not a great choice, there were few other diners and my eel was below expectations, though Lynne was happy with her cuttlefish.

Dinner in Saranda, eel and cuttlefish

Then we had a nightcap on the balcony.

Saranda at night

12/06/2019

Back to Corfu and thence Home

In the morning the light was different so we took another picture of Saranda…

Saranda in the morning

…and one of Corfu.

Over the sea to Corfu

After breakfast a driver took us round the bay to the ferry port.

In Corfu we were met by the same taxi driver as before and this time he had brought his Albanian wife. I think she wanted to speak to us, but we lacked a language in common; I hope her husband translated our positive impression of the current state of her former home. He was keen to talk about Brexit. ‘You must be mad,’ he said. We agreed.

And with that thought, we went home.

Albania

Part 1: Ksamil on the Albanian Riviera

Part 2: Butrint and the Blue Eye
Part 3: Gjirokastër
Part 4: Berat
Part 5: Tirana
Part 6: Tirana to Saranda

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Corfu: A Fleeting Visit