Friday: England 2-0 Malta, Wembley Stadium. Disappointing England beat Malta in a lackluster match at Wembley. The fact that Gareth Southgate’s side failed to register a single shot on target in the opening hour against a team ranked 171st in the world is slightly mitigated by the knowledge that this match was essentially a dead rubber, after that England qualified with two matches remaining, safely. knowing that a point away against North Macedonia on Monday evening will be enough to secure first place in the Euro 2024 draw in early December. The thrill of anticipation of the draw and the prospect of Germany next summer far outweighs the entertainment value under the Friday night lights at the national stadium.
Saturday: A flight from Luton Airport to Tirana. For £20 one way. Admittedly, this earns me middle seat purgatory as I relish the prospect of visiting three new countries and capitals over the next few days. I’m picked up by an old college friend I haven’t seen in a while at Tirana airport – which is actually much more spacious and welcoming than the seventh circle of hell that is the airport from Luton. My partner gives me a huge hug and the years pass.
We visit a multitude of lively and energetic bars. The country is passionate about football and while we are drinking locally produced lager, Switzerland is playing in Kosovo. The match ended in a 1-1 draw, meaning the Swiss qualified for next summer’s jamboree in Germany. Both goals are celebrated in the pub because, as my friend explains, Switzerland has players of Albanian and Kosovar origin. Notably former Arsenal midfielder Granit Xhaka. Whose family left the former Yugoslavia when tensions with the Serbs began to rise in 1990, and the country was made after World War I after the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, fractured at the start of the 1990s with such violent consequences in the years that followed. .
One of the bars we drink in is right next to the brand new Arena Kombetare – meaning National Arena – and the site of the old Qemal Stafa Stadium, named after the founder of the Albanian Communist Party. The sparkling new 22,500-seat stadium hosted the 2022 Europa Conference League final between Roma and Feyenoord.
Albanian football is booming, as highlighted by the qualification of the Shqiponjat (the Eagles) for Germany. Led by former Arsenal Brazilian defender Sylvinho, after a turbulent campaign which saw them finish ahead of the Czech Republic and Poland. Their 1-1 draw against Moldova, on the same night that England worked their way to first place against Malta, helped spark scenes of jubilation – which, if the reaction to the song is anything to go by of the team in the bars we visited, would show up next summer. will be a moment to savor for the team playing in red and black.
My friend tells me that they will host the Faroe Islands on Monday evening, but, alas, the match clashes with the England match across the border.
We continued our evening tour of the Albanian capital, not to mention its lively clubs and bars, which culminated in a 5am arrival and a delicious kebab. It’s always a bonus when you drink way more than you should.
Sunday: visit to Tirana. A convivial lunch with my friend and his family, who felt like they were the guests of honor at a banquet, such was wonderful Albanian hospitality. The memorable meal featured succulent dishes including lamb and a series of mouth-watering local specialties such as stuffed peppers, as well as a divine cheese and spinach tart called Byrek. Then it was time to leave the party (and the hangover from the night before) and experience Albania in the light of day.
Before the fall of the Berlin Wall, Albania was ruled by communist leader Enver Hoxha and was essentially cut off from the world after relations with Russia and China deteriorated.
To highlight the changes that have occurred over the past three decades, I pass the Pyramid of Tirana. Built as a monument to Hoxha after his death in 1985, this strange, angular, white building fell into a state of disrepair – only to re-emerge as a hub of the tech and creative industries. The building is near the sprawling Skanderbeg Square, named after a national hero who led a revolt against the Ottoman Empire in the 15th century.
I visit the top secret Hoxha nuclear bunker in the city center, now called Bunk’Art. The claustrophobic underground network of tunnels off Skanderbeg Square was once connected to Albania’s Interior Ministry and in some ways shows how far the country has come.
I asked my friend if his family knew about the bunkers in the 1980s. No, he replied emphatically. Nobody knew anything. Nobody said anything.
The 18th-century Et-hem Bey Mosque sits nearby as I visit a bustling bookstore to pick up some works by Albania’s greatest writer, Ismail Kadare. You can always judge the health of a country by visiting its bookstores, and the one I went to near the university was absolutely full of young people, driven by the desire to learn. It was wonderful to see.
Monday: Tirana at Skopje – North Macedonia 1-1 England. A glorious day. One that will be remembered for a long time. A deep, bright blue sky frames our journey through the Qafe Thane mountain range to the border via the most breathtaking view of Lake Ohrid and the snow-capped mountains beyond. We stop in a village which seems to be populated only by elderly people. A woman in a shawl offers us a fruit shaped like a sturdy but bright orange tomato. We buy a large bag for pennies and bite into what we call a khaki. The texture is apple, but the taste is apricot. Delicious.
My friend tells me that all the young people in the city have left for a better life. “In Tirana?” I ask. “London,” he replies.
We cross the border and head to Skopje, ending our six-hour drive by meeting up with old English friends in the city’s atmospheric bazaar.
As dusk falls, the haunting song of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer fills the air. I look up to see an evocative minaret lit by a half crescent moon and feel the wonder – not a little bewilderment – that comes from traveling to new and unknown places.
The images of Skopje reminded me of some sights I saw while traveling through Central America more than two decades ago, when I spent six months stumbling onto local buses along this fascinating route between North America and South America. Especially cities like San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador. Places where poverty mixed with scarcity and where the deficit of goods and resources generated a dazzling feeling of oppressed citizens. Of course, as in all of these states, military and police spending far outweighed any semblance of investment programs intended to help reverse resource depletion.
It was little wonder, then, that the authorities appeared to outnumber the fans before kick-off at Skopje’s Todor Proeski National Arena, as water cannon trucks and a disconcerting number of riot police lined the area near the dilapidated stadium of 33,000 people. Feeling peckish, I picked up a big bag of pumpkin seeds for about 2p. It certainly kept me going until my next late night kebab.
A disappointing England get a 1-1 as some players pad their lines. Ollie Watkins missing a good chance early on was a good example of this. Manchester City’s Rico Edwards impressed on his debut, while Harry Maguire had another poor game. I meet up with everyone after covering the game from the press box, and we find a venue willing to let us in, and we drink until daybreak.
Tuesday: Skopje to Pristina. Kosovo 0-1 Belarus. The joke in Skopje (population 640,000) among locals is that there are more statues than people. The place is absolutely filled with statues. They have become a tourist attraction in themselves. Which, given the high unemployment rate around 30 percent, offers at least a few enterprising locals the chance to share their knowledge on a guided tour. The most impressive offering is a huge Alexander the Great riding his horse. Yet in a microcosm of the Balkan people’s propensity to argue, the North Macedonian government refuses to call the iconic soldier by name due to an ongoing political dispute with Greece. The statue is therefore simply called “the great warrior”. As someone said, “Who builds a 50 foot statue then refuses to call it by its name?” » The area is close to the Stone Bridge, a construction over the Vardar River which runs through the city. Originally built in 1451, most of the current bridge is linked to the Ottoman era. The Nazis wanted to blow it up during their retreat from the Balkans in 1944, but fortunately the planned destruction never materialized, leaving a beautifully landscaped passage.
After a sweet baklava and a strong coffee, we drive to Pristina at sunset. A robust little town, not entirely devoid of charm, but a place full of friendly welcome. We meet friends at a bar near the 13,000-capacity Fadil Vokrri stadium in the city center. The owner asks us what our favorite Stone Roses song is and is quick to stick with I Am The Resurrection, before we watch Kosovo’s courageous 1-0 defeat to a well-drilled Belarusian team.
Kosovo is 90 percent Albanian, and two years after declaring its disputed independence in 2008, it has yet to get its own web domain.
As the late night beers flow to end such an interesting and enjoyable week, my friend tells a story.
After the 1999 NATO war that separated Kosovo from Serbia, many residents named their children “Bill Clinton” or “Tony Blair” in recognition of the war that established the new state.
When the former US president returned recently – naturally on nearby Bill Clinton Boulevard – authorities called on everyone who named their children after Clinton to come forward.
Apparently, more than 500 people did, much to Clinton’s amusement.
It seemed fitting that after a week of following disappointing Englishmen from Wembley to the Balkans, we should feel sorry for the handful of youngsters who also bore the name of the discredited Blair, so little cherished elsewhere.
The difference, we noted around a table full of beers in the wee hours of a Kosovo morning, is that Southgate can claim redemption in a sporting battle next summer – while Blair in disgrace never can.