From Auron Tare
I often pass along Vjosa. I like this landscape, perhaps unique among our years. I know this area, its people and its history well as I have walked through it for years from village to village.
About 6 months ago, I noticed that several vacation spots were built across the river with an Alpine kiosk in the middle. I stopped and looked at them. Funds were clearly spent and I liked that the Valley would have some landmarks for nature and history.
Vjosa deserves it, I believe, the Wild River in Europe, Park, Di Caprio, the associations that fight for its protection. Management plan, long-term plan, short-term plan, the involvement of communities, to help tourism, we love Albania very much, full of slogans like these that are buzzing on social networks.
Holiday Square and Alpine Kiosks are made with care. The Development Fund and the World Bank have placed their logos to tell us passers-by that they are serious about the Valley.
The information boards are full of coordinates and apart from some historical information for the second primary class you don’t see anything else.
I did not think that inside the Iron Kiosks there would be more material about this valley witnessing battles from early antiquity to the Italo-Greek War.
In March when I saw the Alpine kiosks so pleasantly named “Info Point” I imagined that during the summer they would be full of visitors who would be served by local boys and girls, beautifully dressed and full of endless history. in this Valley.
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In the meantime, I often pass by Vjosa, once to have a coffee at Beni’s, once to have a haircut in Këlcyre with a young guy, who can’t wait to leave this place. Once I drank a brandy in a small barangay at the only cobbler uncle Polua, who is left and still makes opinga.
Once I buy Albanian Gin from the manual boatman Hiqmet, who makes brandy from all kinds of fruit, once I get honey from Zybo’s bees in Kala. Once at Mira’s Guest House in Peshtan to be proud of the tourism she does in this Valley. Once in Leusa to Gili and further to Leskovik to Eleonora’s Bees that graze the meadows of Greece and return to Albania at night.
And while I run up and down the Valley, the Alpine Kiosks by the Vjosa remain silent. Closed. Abandoned. The only visitors to be seen are the herds of donkeys from the surrounding villages trying to hide from the heat under the Alpine roofs of the Info Points built with World Bank money.
What if that money was given to Mira in Peshtan for her Inn? Polo shoemaker to preserve tradition? Or the rower and Hiqmet brandy maker?
Or the sons of old man Zybo who used to take their honey all the way to France? What if a small part of the Kiosk Fund was given to the young barber to open a business and not leave the country? Or to help the bees of Eleonora to become a beautiful opportunity for the tourism of the area?
What if the money from the kiosks had been used to restore the historical Sarajes of the Këlcyraj feudal family?
Unfortunately, no one cares about all these people of the Valley. Funds are only for donkeys.
