Roaming the Cape of Rodon
An Idyllic Afternoon in an Illyrian Pagan Paradise
The Cape of Rodon, a magical rocky horn that jettisons out into the Adriatic Sea at the northern tip of Albania, is a spectacularly beautiful headland still brimming with both the dark ghosts of Enver Hoxha’s tyranny and the palpable presence of the ancient Illyrian gods.
We first encountered the name of Redon, the ancient Illyrian god after which the Cape of Rodon is named, on a recent visit to the port city of Durrës. After a few days relaxing in our waterfront apartment with our friend Cheryl Cullen (visiting us from the States), we decided to take a tour of downtown Durrës. It was there that we discovered a giant statue of Redon created by sculptor Ilirjan Xhixha and placed in one of the city’s main squares as a symbol of power and belonging.
Redon is the ancient Illyrian god of the sea, as well as the patron of sailors and travelers, combining aspects of Poseidon/Neptune and Hermes/Mercury. He is portrayed as a young man with a trident, wearing a broad-brimmed hat (worn by travelers), often accompanied by a dolphin or a ship. The Albanian name “Redi” (derived from this ancient god) is still in common use today. In fact, one of our favorite Albanian musicians is named Redi Hasa. He’s an extraordinary cellist whose album, The Stolen Cello, (purchase or stream here) details his escape from Albania during the conflicts of the 1990s.
A month later, another one of our dear friends, professional photographer and Professor of Photography Lauren Greenwald, also decided to come visit us in Albania. We spent the first few days showing her around our beloved Tirana and then made plans to take a day trip to the Cape of Rodon. We packed blankets, swim trunks, beach towels, picnic foods and plenty of white wine for the journey. That morning we arranged to have our favorite cab driver in Tirana, Altin (whose name means “gold” in Turkish) drive us to the coast. Fortunately for us, this burly, mustachioed, strong-but-silent Albanian man had already carefully crafted our visit to the Cape of Rodon.
As fate would have it, Altin was a fixture in these parts and happened to have a family friend who is a fisherman, a winemaker and owner of a popular seafood restaurant on the beach! En route, he explained (in Albanian) that our picnic would not be necessary and that he had arranged a lunch for us at Restorant Lleshi. We were in good hands!
Expertly navigating the serpentine, pothole-strewn, one-lane road leading down to the cape, Altin delivered us safely onto the sandy shores of Rodoni Beach. We strolled along the beach to the crumbling remnants of the stony pier, stopping first to peek into the giant bunker along the shore that had housed Hoxha’s tanks during the Cold War.
Indeed, the entire coastline was dotted with the faded magenta-hued domes that had once been part of a massive underground network of bunkers that the paranoid dictator had constructed from the 1960s until his death in 1985 (over 173,000 bunkers in every corner of the country!). A brief walk through the Bunker Cafe, a former bunker now turned restaurant, allowed us a moment to walk along its narrow walls and take in a bone-chilling photographic exposition of photos captured from these harrowing times.
After venturing down to the end of the pier for some breathtaking views of the lush landscape and the azure sea (a perfect spot to pour libations of wine to Redon), we were ready for lunch and a swim. On our way back to the car, we stopped to tour St. Anthony Church, a 15th-century medieval church dedicated to the patron saint of sailors and fishermen (i.e. Redon with a new name). Most interestingly, according to the placard outside, the church houses several wall paintings with “unusual symbols,” (that usually means something pagan!) including a two-headed eagle, a strange long-necked bird, and a horse with a female rider — who historians suspect could be Mamica, the sister of Albania’s national hero Skanderbeg (whose castle is nearby).
Lunch at Restorant Lleshi:
Altin steered us through another winding drive past evergreen hills aflush with thriving vineyards, olive trees, cornfields, wildflowers, and the ever-present hum of chirping cicadas, calmly transporting us to his beloved Restorant Lleshi. The perfect respite on a sweltering July afternoon, we relaxed in the cool shade of a large terrace built by none other than Altin himself!
He introduced us to the young waiters (possibly his nephews?) while grabbing an ice-cold carafe of house wine out of the cooler. Opening up another refrigerator, he showed off the fresh catches of the day and conferred at length with the servers about our lunch.
Then the food began to arrive. One enticing traditional dish after another. And another. And another. And another! Apparently Altin had decided to order most of the menu! Fortunately, everything was absolutely delicious (honestly some of the best food we’ve had in Albania), so we all just decided to go with the flow and enjoy all twelve courses or so. Let the Feast to Redon commence!
We started out with a liter of crisp, refreshing, ever-so-gently oxidized orange wine paired with some creamy kaçkavall cheese (the Albanian equivalent of feta, typically made with sheep and goat’s milk and brined for 1-2 months) and some delicious tarator (the Albanian version of tzatziki).
This was quickly followed by a cold octopus and apple salad marinated in rich Albanian olive oil and herbs until the octopus was so tender it literally melted in your mouth. Accompanying all of this was fried calamari and a fresh green Mediterranean salad. Altin now had to remind us to pace ourselves as we began devouring everything in sight.
Then came a heap of jumbo grilled prawns, so fresh you could taste the sea they were swimming in that morning. This was served with a delectable plate of one of our favorite Albanian dishes, bukë misri me djathë, a pan-fried cornbread topped with a creamy cheese spread. Restorant Lleshi’s version was simply heaven in your mouth.
We were sucking shrimp heads and washing them down with our second liter of orange wine when the patron himself, Capitano Lleshi (pint of beer in hand and sea captain’s hat atop his sun-kissed head), made his appearance. He affectionately kissed Altin on the cheek, introduced himself to us and promptly plopped himself down into a chair our table. And that’s when the Bacchanalia really began!
With a combination of universal gestures, Latin nouns, Google translate and a mutually forged drunken simpatico, we somehow managed to conduct a lengthy and lively conversation, despite none of us speaking the other’s native tongue. First and foremost, we learned that Capitano Lleshi was the establishment’s owner and primary fisherman, and that all the fish served at his restaurant were caught by him. We didn’t ask whether or not he used a trident, but he seemed to us like a modern-day incarnation of Redon!
At this point, quite apropos, an enormous platter of grilled fish we’d selected earlier arrived, along with a giant bowl of local mussels in white wine and tomato sauce. We were already stuffed to the brim . . . but there was no going back now. As we were plating up the perfectly grilled, tender white meat of the Adriatic sea bass, an elderly, leathery-skinned, bare-chested old man slowly sauntered over to our table to present Altin with a small plastic water bottle filled with his homemade raki. Altin offered us all a taste, which clearly had an alcohol level akin to moonshine. Noticing our reticence to sample it, he grinned devilishly and simply doused the mussels with the raki and lit them on fire! This, in turn, lit the tablecloth on fire (!), which the three of us scrambled to extinguish as Altin let out a hearty Dionysian cackle.
That said, we not only devoured the raki-drenched mussels but then proceeded to finish the rest of the bottle with some espressos before heading to the beach (just feet away from our table) for a dip in the pure blue Adriatic Sea. Refreshed and revived from the cool salty water, we were ready to hit the road home. We said our goodbyes to Capitano Lleshi and his lovely staff, poured another libation to Redon, and were on our way back to Tirana.
On the way home, however, Altin had one last surprise in store for us. He pulled into a parking lot along the roadside, where people were queued up in the stifling heat outside the door. He smiled slyly and made his way inside to procure four cones of freshly made, soft-serve Albanian ice cream for us. This was, quite literally, the icing on the cake from a perfect day in paradise.
I’m so envious that you had a fabulous outing with Altin, such a lovely man I wish I could’ve gotten to spend the day with! And what a feast!!
One of these days I'll come up with something better than "Wow, I feel like I was there!" but I'm too busy drooling to think straight. It sounds absolutely marvelous!