Cheltenham: Hotel du Vin and Brian Jones

A Posh District, a Dinner Worth Reviewing and the Grave of a Rolling Stone

Parabola Road, Montpellier District

07-Jul-2019

Gloucestershire

Cheltenham

From Deerhurst we drove to Cheltenham and found our way to Parabola Road and the Hotel du Vin in the Montpellier district. Montpellier was developed in the 1830s in conjunction with Cheltenham Spa – Harrogate’s Montpellier district has a similar history – and is now an area of bars, cafés, restaurants, specialist shops and expensive housing.

Hotel du Vin, Parabola Road, Cheltenham

We checked in, watched the women’s World Cup Final and took a stroll along Parabola Road. It does an old(ish) mathematician's heart good to walk along a parabola which, as everyone knows, is the locus of a point equidistant from a fixed point (the focus) and a fixed line (the directrix). The road’s central section is a fair approximation to the right shape.

Parabola Road, Cheltenham

Dinner in the Hotel du Vin, Cheltenham

Having visited Albania last month, where Norman Wisdom became some kind of folk hero, we were amused by the blue plaque by the hotel entrance. Lynne saw him perform at the London Palladium in 1954. Though only 4, she remembers it well.

Blue plaque outside the Hotel du Vin, Cheltenham

Hotel du Vin is a chain of 19 ‘luxury boutique hotels'. One of the founders was a master sommelier and is now a Master of Wine, hence the name. Rooms are named after assorted vinous luminaries, though we found ‘Geoff Merril’ a little harder to locate than, say, room 234.

Olives

Stationing ourselves in the bar, we ordered two gins (Tanqueray) and one tonic. That cost over £12 - tonic is expensive round here - but they did bring a nice bowl of nuts and mixed olives. Cerignola olives are the biggest I have ever seen, but like tiger prawns they demonstrate that bigger is not always better.

Mixed olives, Hotel du Vin, Cheltenham
Cerignola is the huge pale one, Gaeta is the grape-sized black one and Nocellara, the shiny green one

Hotel du Vin restaurants have the same menu but each has its own head chef; Paul Mottram in Cheltenham.

Wine Problems (Partly of our own Making)

We had a tricky negotiation over the menu, selecting main courses which would suit the same wine. The wine list is short, considering the origins of these hotels, but covers most bases and all wines are offered by the bottle, glass or 500ml carafe. We wanted a bottle - the perfect size for two - and settled on lemon sole for both and a white Rioja.

I liked the old-fashioned white oak-aged Riojas, but that is not to modern tastes. Our bottle, inevitably, was a modern white Rioja, well-made and well-balanced and, I admit, a better match for sole than the old style.

We were savouring the wine when the waiter returned, apologised and told us there was only one sole. Lynne changed her order to lamb, the waiter suggested we choose a different wine but that brought us back to our original problem. I proposed keeping the Rioja and him bringing Lynne a glass of Pinotage, free of charge, to accompany her lamb. And that solved that.

Starters: Escargot and Pork & Rabbit Paté

Lynne started with Escargots à la Bourguignonne. We have eaten escargots many times, once regrettably in a pastry coffin laced with Pernod and once spectacularly with garlic pannacotta and bone-marrow beignet at the now defunct but then Michelin starred La Bécasse in Ludlow, but mostly Bourguignonne. It is a classic, and a simple classic at that, requiring no more than industrial quantities of butter, garlic and parsley. This came sprinkled with a crumb which Lynne found particularly pleasing as it soaked up even more of the butter.

Lynne's escargots, Hotel du Vin, Cheltenham

I had pork and rabbit pâté en croûte with Winterdale Cheddar crisps and apple chutney.

I carved a slice off the big slab of pâté to swap for one of Lynne’s snails – surely you should not be able to carve a pâté. Solid it may have been, but it had a fine flavour, the pork providing a reassuring background to the stronger up-front rabbit. I am unsure, though, why it was ‘en croûte, the embrace of cold, clammy pastry did nothing for it.

Pork and rabbit pate, Winterdale cheddar crisps and apple chutney, Hotel du Vin, Cheltenham

The Winterdale cheddar crisps were excellent (and that is not ‘crisps’ in the Walkers meaning of the word). Winterdale Farm in Wrotham, Kent is an artisan cheese producer claiming to be carbon neutral in both production and delivery. If ‘crisps’ can be a true representation theirs is a very rich and powerful cheddar – though the Winterdale website stresses its Kentish origin and studiously avoids the word ‘cheddar’. Wonderful as they were, they rather overwhelmed the pâté. The apple chutney was a good partner for the crisps, but for the pâté, it too was overly assertive – and sweet.

Mains: Roast Rump of Lamb and Sole Meunière

Lynne was more than happy with her ‘roast rump of lamb with summer vegetable fricassée in a light tomato broth’, it had been her first choice before I talked her into the sole. The piece of meat I tasted was full of sheepy flavour – in fact it is a long time since I tasted such a fine morsel of lamb.

Roast rump of lamb, Hotel du Vin, Cheltenham

My lemon sole meunière, was spot on. In May, I had a Dover sole in a pub in Devon, it was an excellent fish, but seemed to have drowned in butter. This lemon sole was buttery, too – that is what meunière means – but not drowned, and the capers provided a necessary bite of acidity. Dover sole is a patrician among fish, lemon sole more down-to-earth, its flesh denser and less finely flavoured, but on the plus side there is more of it!

Lemon sole meuniere, Hotel du Vin, Cheltenham

We had ordered sides of haricot beans and lyonnaise potatoes when we were both having sole. Lynne’s lamb came with vegetables but we failed to change the order. The haricots were first class, garlicky and crisp without being ‘squeaky’, the lyonnaise potatoes less successful. I thought the potatoes too floury for this dish, and spuds and onions gave the impression of hardly being introduced, let alone sautéed (what a strange franglais word) together.

Whilst we were eating Jo, the wife of Lynne’s cousin Matthew, came to tell us they were eating in the outside section of the restaurant and suggested we meet for drinks after.

Lynne and I ummed and erred over dessert, but when our coffee arrived we asked them to take it up to the bar. ‘We can bring desserts up, too’ they said hopefully. We were firm, after all we did not need desserts and all their extra calories, so we joined Jo and Matthew for a convivial hour, during which we drank as many calories as we had saved.

The meal cost far more than a pub dinner, but much less than dinner in a Michelin starred restaurant, and the quality fitted appropriately into that wide band. The originality and imagination of a Michelin starred kitchen were lacking, but instead there was a concentration on classics – the escargots and the sole, to pick two examples. These are not complicated dishes* presenting great technical difficulties, but are nonetheless extremely satisfying - that is why they are classics.

08-Jul-2019

The Grave of Brian Jones

We had come to Cheltenham for a family funeral, hence our reaction at finding Matthew and Jo in the same hotel was mild surprise rather than amazement. The funeral is beyond the scope of this blog, but Lynne’s aunt was duly laid to rest beside her husband in the town cemetery.

Just round the corner is someone who in his prime might well have been a noisy neighbour.

Brian Jones, Cheltenham Cemetery

The photo above was taken in 2010, there was no significance to that day, there are always flowers on the grave of the Rolling Stone who lost his way. Driving past this time, we noticed it was absolutely covered with floral tributes. Only later did we realise that five days ago it had been 50 years since Brian Jones died. Can it really be so long?

*Escargots à la Bourguignonne are a little more complicated than I made out - but they certainly do not involve liquid nitrogen or cooking anything sous vide.

Also, on the road to Cheltenham

Croome Court and Deerhurst

Other 1 AA Rosette meals
The Speech House, Forest of Dean Gloucestershire (2019)
The Hotel du Vin, Cheltenham, Gloucestershire (2019)
The Hotel du Vin, Stratford-upon-Avon. Warwickshire (2022)
The Dukes Head, Kings Lynn, Norfolk (2022)

Croome Court and Deerhurst

A Georgian House and An Ancient Chapel

Croome Court

Worcestershire

Setting out for Cheltenham at 9.30 on a Sunday morning, we missed any serious hold-up in the everlasting road works at the top of the M5 and left the motorway at J7 south of Worcester. Diving into the countryside we reached Croome Court around 11, the time the house opens.

A sunny summer weekend brings out the crowds and even at opening time we had to search for a parking space.

The original Jacobean Croome Court, was built around 1640 for the 1st Baron Coventry. The foundations and chimney stack of that building remain within the current house, designed by Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown and Sanderson Miller and built 1751/2 for George, the 6th Earl Coventry (the 5th Baron had been upgraded to 1st Earl in 1697). Better known for his landscapes, this was Capability Brown’s first attempt at architecture and I feel the building is not as good as its setting (also Brown’s work).

Croome Court, Worcestershire

Capability Brown’s landscapes have flickered in and out of fashion over the years. On one level I understand their attraction, but it feels odd, or maybe presumptuous to design an artificial landscape intended to be more ‘natural’ than the one provided by nature. Or maybe not, after several millennia of inhabitation, tree felling, grazing and crop growing there is little truly ‘natural’ about the English landscape.

The Church of St Mary Magdalene, Croome

Croome’s 13th century church was deemed too close to the house, so Brown was instructed to demolish it, build a new one on the nearby low hill and provide ‘an eyecatcher’. The demolition might have been vandalism and the new church looks nothing special (in my amateur opinion). Completed in 1763, it was dedicated to St Mary Magdalene.

St Mary Magdalene, Croome

Being one of the super-rich, George the 6th Earl employed Robert Adam to design the interior, and Adam used the finest craftsmen available.

Inside St Mary Magdalene, Croome

For all their efforts, the eye is caught by a series of marble monuments to the assorted Earls and Barons Coventry, presumably transferred from the original church. The 1st Earl’s is missing because the 2nd Earl objected to his elderly father’s marriage to a servant girl (it now graces St Mary’s, Elmley Castle, 5km away). Most are run-of-the-mill but the 1st Baron’s monument stands out. It is reputedly by Nicholas Stone, master mason to James I and Charles I and a prolific carver of funerary monuments. He is highly regarded, but surely this plumbs depths best left unplumbed.

Memorial to the 1st Baron Coventry - and what is he about to do with that hand?

The Rotunda, Croome Court

We walked along the ridge, past the walled garden to the Rotunda, Capability Brown’s ‘relaxing garden room’. It was in poor condition when the Croome Trust acquired the estate and has been stabilized rather than restored, but I am unconvinced we 21st century softees would ever have thought the interior comfortable.

Rotunda and cedars, Croome Court

The 360º visibility permits a view of the shrubbery and impressive cedars, while to the west there is a fine vista of the Malvern Hills, at least there is on a clear day, but today was far too hazy.

The hazy Malvern Hills from the Rotunda, Croome Court

Croome Court, The Exterior

From here we descended to the south entrance. Fashions come and go, and many come round again, but I hope the fashion for these monstrosities never returns. They look like sphinxes designed by somebody who has never seen a sphinx.

The South Entrance, Croome Court

And maybe that is true, but....

Detail from the library mural, Stowe House

...we visited Stowe in Buckinghamshire in 2014. The mural in the library has something similar, though even more alarming as the figures there also have wings and a bouquet of flowers sprouting from their heads. Why?

Croome Court remained in the hands of the Coventry Family until the middle of the 20th century. The 10th Earl was killed in 1940 in the retreat to Dunkirk leaving his 6 year-old son to inherit the title. The estate provided insufficient income to support the house, so both were sold in 1948.

For thirty years Croome was St Nicholas' Roman Catholic boarding school and from 1979-84 the UK Centre of the Hari Krishna movement. Subsequently, a succession of failed developments saw Croome not becoming a hotel, country club or golf course. By 2007 the house was in a poor state. It was bought by the Croome Heritage Trust and leased to the National Trust on a 999-year lease (which will probably see me out, not to mention the National Trust and possibly our entire ‘civilisation’.)

Croome Court, The Interior

After the introductory film in the Billiards Room, we walked through to the Long Gallery. The room is largely empty, but the fireplace is work of Robert Wilton, a founder member of the Royal Academy and responsible for the sculptures on the rarely used Gold State Coach.

Joseph Wilton Fireplace, Long Gallery, Croome Court

Capability Brown aimed to create a vista through every window. Most neo-Palladian houses were perched on high ground, but Croome, built on older foundations, is in a hollow making his job more difficult.

Vista through the Long Gallery Window, Croome Court

Anthony Bridge Paintings and Grayson Perry Tapestries

With no furniture or ‘collection’ to display, Croome is largely an exhibition space. For me the highlight was the Drawing Room exhibition of local landscapes by 18th century artist Richard Wilson and Croome’s artist in resident Antony Bridge. Wilson’s landscapes were often too small for my taste, and too dingy (an effect of time rather than a criticism) while I thought Bridge’s vivid, multiple views of the Malvern Ridge caught the essence of the place. If I had a wall big enough….

Antony Bridge landscapes of the Malverns, Croome Court

Walking the Malvern Ridge

The Malvern ridge featured on Day 6 of the epic South West Odyssey back in 2009. We saw one aspect of it, Antony Bridge offers nine more to contemplate.

The Grayson Perry tapestries in the Tapestry Room and Library illustrated his not entirely original view of modern Britain’s dystopian condition.

Grayson Perry Tapestry, Croome Court

Maria Gunning, Countess of Coventry and Kitty Fisher, Courtesan

Sadly, the Maria Gunning exhibition had ended. In 2016 we visited Hemingford Grey in Cambridgeshire where Maria, later Duchess of Coventry, and her younger sister Elizabeth were born. Their aristocratic but impoverished parents launched the teenage sisters into society to sink or swim on their looks and bedability. Both swam; Elizabeth becoming Duchess of Hamilton and a second marriage made her Duchess of Argyll, while in 1752 Maria married the 6th Earl of Coventry and became mistress of Croome Court. She was 19, he was 30.

Unfortunately, all went wrong for Maria. In the late 1750s, society courtesan Kitty Fisher had a ‘relationship’ with Lord Coventry (she was 17 he was nearly 40) and there was a bitter rivalry between Kitty and Maria*. Maria Gunning died in 1760, poisoned by the lead and arsenic in her make-up; Kitty Fisher died at the same age (26 or 27) 7 years later, possibly from the same cause.

Upstairs an installation tells the not always happy stories of the vulnerable boys who attended St Nicholas’ School and (warning: non-sequitor approaching) next door in the Alcove Bedroom, is a 1766 Robert Adam scroll sofa - I struggle to become excited by sofas.

Robert Adam scroll sofa, Croome Court

RAF Defford, Croome Court

Back at the car park an interesting little museum looks at another aspect of Croome Court’s 20th century history. From 1941 until 1957 part of the estate became RAF Defford.

RAF Defford museum, Croome Court

Land based radar had become widely used after the development of the resonant-cavity magnetron in Birmingham University by John Randall and Harry Boot in 1940. The primary purpose of RAF Defford was to further develop the technology and produce radar that could be carried on a plane. Automatic approach and landing was also researched at Defford and in January 1945 it was the scene of the world’s first "hands off" automatic blind landing.

After the war Defford continued to research into radar until 1957 when its runaways were deemed insufficient for the new generation of military aircraft. They are still there, in an unvisited part of the grounds, cracked, unusable and rotting quietly away.

Deerhurst

Odda’s Chapel

Gloucestershire

Borough of Tewkesbury

Leaving Croome Court we continued south into Gloucestershire, and beyond Tewkesbury turned west along country lanes to the village of Deerhurst.

Here, in 1675, local landowner Sir John Powell, discovered an 11th century stone slab with a Latin inscription...

Replica of the slab found by Sir John Powell in 1675, in Odda's Chapel, Deerhurst
The original is in the Ashmolean Museum

...which translates as:

Earl Odda ordered this royal chapel to be built and dedicated in honour of the Holy Trinity for the good of the soul of his brother Aelfric who died in this place. Bishop Ealdred dedicated it on April 12th of the 14th year of the reign of Edward, King of the English.

Edward the Confessor reigned 1042-66, dating the inscription to 1056.

St Mary’s Church in Deerhurst has its origins in the 8th century, so no one looked deeper into the meaning of the slab until 1865 when George Butterworth, vicar of St Mary’s, deduced from the chronicles of Tewkesbury Abbey that the stone referred to a separate chantry chapel (a chapel for saying masses for the dead).

During renovations at Abbot’s Court farmhouse in 1885 a Saxon window was found behind the plaster and George Butterworth realised his chantry chapel had been discovered.

Abbot's Court and Odda's Chapel, Deerhurst

Chantry chapels had been abolished by Henry VIII, and around 1600 Odda’s Chapel had been incorporated into the timber framed farmhouse.

A nave and chancel linked by a Romanesque arch, Odda's Chapel, Deerhurst

The buildings have now been methodically disentangled,....

The remains of a bedroom (and is that a fireplace?) above the chancel, Odda's Chapel, Deerhurst

...and Odda’s chapel is once again a nave and chancel linked by a Romanesque arch. In essence it is a simple stone box, but sitting in the peaceful atmosphere I imagined myself as a small link in a thousand year chain of history.

Odda's Chapel and Abbot's Court, Deerhurst

St Mary’s Priory Church, Deerhurst

On our short walk to St Mary’s we passed through a substantial floodgate; the Severn, only 200m across the water meadows, being notoriously flood prone. Odda’s Chapel, outside the floodgate, is protected by being on higher ground.

Floodgate, Deerhurst

Remarkably Odda’s Chapel is not the oldest building in Deerhurst, St Mary’s Priory Church was built in the 8th century, but had makeovers in the 10th, 14th centuries, and 19th centuries; each contributing to today’s structure. Originally a priory church, St Mary’s became the parish church after the Dissolution of the Monasteries.

St Mary's Deerhurt, with the former Priory Farm behind

The ancient nave has a high ceiling like the Saxon churches of  Escomb and Jarrow in County Durham.

Nave, St Mary's Deerhurst

There is an impressive Saxon font,...

Saxon font, St Mary's, Deerhurst

…while the arcade has later Perpendicular Gothic arches.

Perpendicular Gothic arcade, St Mary's Deerhurst

St Mary’s has been in continual use and continually updated, so despite its antiquity it lacks the ancient calm of Odda’s Chapel where rough-hewn simplicity speaks quietly but directly from the far-off age of the Saxons.

We left Deerhurst and set off for Cheltenham, which was, you might remember, or destination for the day, but as this post has gone on for long enough, that comes in the next one.

*250 years later Kitty Fisher has won a small (im)moral victory. The café at Croome is named after the mistress of the 6th Earl of Coventry, not the mistress of Croome. 

Next post

Cheltenham: Hotel du Vin and Brian Jones

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