Rose water and a colourful car crash at Mrizi i Zanave

It was late in the evening and the sun was about to set, when I arrive at Mrizi i Zanave – Alma’s third and final recommendation.

Driving towards a old stone house surrounded by olive trees on a small hill, one might have been forgiven for assuming to be somewhere in the middle of Tuscany. I was passing a vineyard, rows of flowers and vegetables, trees with hazel and walnuts, orange and lemon trees and this all in a peaceful valley near a small river and with some sunbleached mountains nearby.

On the front court a pick up truck appeared to have crashed, spilling its cargo of beautiful pots of flowers on to the road…..

Further up the hill, pots of red, yellow and blue paint had been tipped over, with the paint on the lawn miraculously metamorphing into similarly coloured blossoms.

With so many playful and lighthearted ideas around me,

it was hard to believe that just a few years ago, this place used to be a regional military command centre.

Even the pill boxes had been transformed into giant lady birds and tortoises…

I was lucky, and despite a slightly messed up reservation, I was given the last room in the house, very fittingly for a vet featuring a cow not only on the key ring, but also on the door to my room and even with one standing next to my bed ……….on the shower curtain.

After dropping off my gear and taking a shower, it was time for dinner, which was very much in tune with the inspirational surroundings:

Virtually all the food and the drinks originated from the land and from the life stock of this agritourism business, which – I was told – was employing over 200 people – basically the whole village…..

To start my meal, I was treated to homemade rose water

(and the next morning I was lucking enough to witness the harvesting of the petals…).

The wine served with the meal came from the own vinery, the oil originated from their own olives and the ice cold water came directly from the local spring.

Very carelessly, I had ordered a meze of starters, with the result that after the table had run out of space, I wasn’t even able to progress to a main course……

Homemade goat cheese, cured meats, olives, grilled vegetables and delicious filled puff pastries filled me up so much, that finally only a glass of local Raki fitted in,

before I was dragging myself to my very own cow shed on the hill….

Driving back to Shkodra the next morning, spotting some of the local poultry next to the road sign, I became slightly concerned about the lasting effect of the local spirits.

I decided then that it was finally time to leave Albania…..