Notes from Wounded Ox
From the Gods, men... and from men, the mighty Roman Empire. Memories from an epic Adriatic adventure...
I saw before me Troy in miniature
A slender copy of our massive tower,
A dry brooklet named Xanthus... and I pressed
My body against a Scaean Gate. Those with me
Feasted their eyes on this, our kinsmen's town.
In spacious colonnades the king received them,
And offering mid-court their cups of wine
They made libation, while on plates of gold
A feast was brought before them.
- Virgil, The Aeneid (Book III)
No great city lasts forever. Not Troy... Not Rome... Not even Wounded Ox...
We set out for Butrint shortly after breakfast. The archeological site, a rich microcosm of Mediterranean history, rests quietly, peacefully, a short taxi ride from our hotel.
Our driver - a cheery, weathered fellow who might have been anywhere from 40 to 60 years of age - traversed the route with familiar ease... steering his battered clunker with one hand, adjusting radio dials with the other and juggling an old Nokia phone between the two.
Not once did his cigarette leave his lips.
Up ahead, the sun rose over the mountain peaks, spilling light across the valley far below us. A cool breeze rushed in the windows. More than once the car came within inches of the barricades before swerving back toward the centerline... and then right over it.
We closed our eyes... and imagined (somehow… miraculously) arriving in one piece...
Recent history, which is to say the past century or so, has not been kind to this southern corner of the Adriatic. Once a strategic stronghold for mighty empires - from the Hellens to the Romans, the Venetians to the Ottomans - modern-day Albania typically ranks as somewhat of a shameful footnote. And not without reason.
After gaining its sovereign independence at the Conference of London in 1913, the long-suffering locals endured two short-lived monarchies (between 1914-1925 and 1928-1939) punctuated by an even briefer period as the Albanian Republic (1925-1928). Following the second, failed monarchial experiment, the people were entrusted first to fascist rule, under Italian occupation, then Nazi rule, under Germany, during WWII. Neither, as one might well imagine, were terribly gentle toward their subjects.
A half-century of kings... coups... war... and psychopaths from the extreme ends of the political spectrum. For the average Albanian just trying to get along in this world, it might have seemed as though things couldn't possibly get any worse. Then, of course, they did.
The end of WWII left behind a crippled and fractured Albania. Fighting broke out around the country as rival groups vied for control, with spirited - though heavily outgunned - resistance in the Nikaj-Mertur, Dukagjin and Kelmend provinces. These skirmishes wouldn't last long. After crushing nationalist "rebels," the communist party swiftly established itself as the unquestionable military and political force of the nation, which was renamed the People's Republic of Albania (only to be recast as the "People's Socialist Republic of Albania" in 1976).
Shortly after asserting power, the communist party enacted the Agrarian Reform Law (1945), a hallmark of collectivist ideology that saw large parcels of land "nationalized" for the "greater good." Lands owned by monasteries and dioceses were also seized, centralized and put to the State's service.
Members of religious groups - particularly Islamic waqfs - were tortured and killed. Christian priests and Muslim ulema were targeted as examples to their followers and were dealt with in especially heinous fashion. Within a few years, religious activity had all but been outlawed in Albania. And in 1949, the "Decree on Religious Communities" required that all religious groups and their related activities be sanctioned by the State alone.
The twin pillars of civilized society - private property and freedom of expression (religious and otherwise) - having now been quashed, the communist party was left to embark on a multi-decade reign of terror and violence against its people. And so it did...
Our driver pulled up just outside the gate. We arranged to meet back in the same spot a couple of hours later, an appointment conveyed with a series of hand gestures, watch pointing and, eventually, a thumbs-up.
According to mythology, Butrint got its start as a fledgling refuge for defeated exiles fleeing their own lands after the fall of Troy. Helenus, son of Priam, and Andromache, Hector's widow, stopped in nearby Epirus, just across the shores. There they sacrificed an ox, which struggled ashore before dying on the beach. Taking this as a good omen, they decided to name the newfound land "Buthrotum," or "Wounded Ox."
Virgil's epic, The Aeneid (quoted above), tells of the eponymous hero visiting the settlement a short while later. It was here the brave Aeneas learned of his divine destiny, which awaited him in Italy, a land he was told his descendants would one day come to rule.
Thus did Virgil's poem, commissioned by Augustus himself, serve to interweave the emperor's own political aspirations with divine mythology.
From the Gods, men... and from men, the mighty Roman Empire.
Under Caesar and Augustus, "Wounded Ox" grew into a flourishing city. Lodgings and public baths were constructed, as well as funerary monuments, temples and a forum, where citizens conducted business and discussed the ideas of the day. Rome's engineers also built a grand aqueduct, which reached out over the channel to the nearby plains, from where water was sourced for the city's houses, fountains and baths.
This city rose alongside the Roman Empire. Likewise it would fall.
More on Albania - past, present and future - in Part II...
Cheers,
Joel Bowman
I backpacked through Albania about 10 years ago. It really is a splendid pocket of the Balkans. The Illyrians, who are thought to be the descendants of modern day Albanians, are the only other non-greek and let's say 'indigenous' culture of that region during antiquity that has survived to this day.
I didn't get the chance to get that far south to see Buthrotum, but had a similar story securing a cab to go to Lake Ohrid. First time, I ever walked across an international border--between Albania and Macedonia--although we had to stand in a line with cars and move one by one with them. Prior to the international borders being drawn, the area was home to different ethnic groups, but they all shared a similar culture--such is the balkans.
The country has such a unique history and the culture is so specific. I hope you get to travel around a bit and mix with locals--Albania always stood out to me, and would love to return.