Croonkastër
Those of you who have read Ismail Kadare’s Chronicle in Stone may remember the existence of the croons - old ladies with quasi magical properties who influence happenings in the stone village of Gjirokastër in mysterious ways. Obviously I considered the powers of those women to be the figment of the imagination of the boy telling the story and an enriching mystical addition to the town history. Pure phenomenon of literature those croons were … at least until one of them spoke to me at midnight on a dark stone alley void of people and any signs of life in Gjirokastër.
You see I’d found myself arriving late due to a slight Albanian road problem. Albanian roads seem to be as magical as the roots of Kadare’s Chronicle since at times they tend to simply disappear. Navigations systems, maps and signs may tell you there is a first class interurban road and you follow it confidently along until just as you’ve climbed the mountain, the road in question starts thinning out and disappears into gravel. You’re left with no option but to drive back, take another approach to your final destination and arrive late to a Gjirokastër bursting with visitors due to a castle concert. It was at that moment that after multiple attempts of conquering the narrow stone streets, I found myself in utter darkness trying to make a navigation-advised turn. Suddenly I heard a voice of an old lady. I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I looked around but there was no one, just an abandoned stone house that looked so spooky I could swear the white dress of a ghost floated behind a broken window. Completely not scared and in full command of my senses, I decided not to make the turn. Long story short, the croon was right, it would have been a terrible idea to take that turn as the so called street was actually a stone staircase. Quasi magical Gjirokastrian Croon:1, Google maps:0.
After the croon-based navigation assistance, my night went along smoothly under the sounds of brokenhearted Greek love songs coming from the castle. For a place with a long kef tradition, the Balkans are certainly big on dramatic events - love or otherwise. In the light of the following day the dramatics had calmed down and Gjirokastër was humming with tourists visiting bunkers (it’s Albania after all), purchasing war souvenirs from shrewd local salesmen and enjoying Albanian culinary delights. The strategic military past and historic significance of the town peaks through every little shop where you can find antiquities reminding of the many soldiers who have passed through and left their mark. Important town it was - and is, for where else in the world do you get navigated by magical croons?
