When I think of spring, one of the first images that comes to mind in the depth of winter is the carpet of flowers at Byllis, high above the Vjosa valley. This is, in all but name, arcadia. No crowds. No tour buses. Just the silent treasures of a lost past, where the air is sweet and there is a compulsion to lie on the matted sward and lazily stare upwards at chattering skylarks. There are, of course, archaeological reasons for travelling to this little-known Graeco-Roman town in Albania. Despite its Illyrian antiquity and its apogee in the age of Augustus, few places summon up better the bewildering collapse of the Roman world. Here amid the pink anemones, you are forced to confront humanity’s fragility. We may seek explanations from nature and outside forces for human crises, but at Byllis you find yourself compelled to ask existential questions about who we were and, possibly, who we are.
Off the beaten track
Byllis is a well-preserved green-field Graeco-Roman town in central southern Albania situated at 524m above sea level. Known locally as the fortress of Hekal (the nearest hamlet), it occupies a flat hilltop overlooking the river Vjosa (the ancient Aoös), which runs through a deep valley immediately to the west. A long meandering road takes you up to the ruins from the highway pursuing the valley. In the climb, you sense forsaking a cosy Mediterranean world for the mountainous interior. The road twists through an opulent modern cemetery and then, crowning the hill, confronts Byllis’s powerful ancient walls. On my first visit 30 years ago, two shepherds were grazing sheep here and, being bored, wanted to tell the story of this Illyrian town and its archaeologists. Apart from the archaeologists in summertime, there was a trickle of pilgrims. A Bektashi shrineto the 19th-century Dervish Baba Azeiz is modestly housed nextto the little restaurant where Beqo, the owner, prepares good lamb and salads with local ingredients.
In an instant, you realise that Byllis’s monuments are special,but their setting makes them spectacular. Apart from the spring flowers and the busy larks, it is the wide-angled view of the Vjosa from the ancient theatre that impresses most. Deep below, the plaited channels of the river –the so-called ‘last wild river of Europe’ – reaches to Vlora Bayon Albania’s Mediterranean coast. Looking westwards, the Vjosa is the foreground for serried ranks of mountains that rise to the heights of the Acroceraunian range, snow-capped until June, overlooking the Albanian riviera. In spring, the clouds swell and dance their way across this barrier between the Ionian Sea and the Balkan interior.
Sherds CA 408