hidden europe 51

The Place by the Bay: the Butrint Story

by Nicky Gardner

Picture above: Fine Roman mosaics at Butrint, Albania (photo © Klemenr / dreamstime.com).

Summary

One of the least frequented great classical sites in the entire Mediterranean basin is at Butrint in south-west Albania. Its roll call of illustrious visitors includes Lord Byron and Nikita Krushchev. Take care to avoid the snakes as we explore Butrint.

Nikita turned to one of his aides and commented harshly: “The old things here should be dug up and thrown into the sea.” Tact was never Nikita’s strong point.

Enver was not amused at his guest’s remark. For Enver, Butrint was far more than a heap of ruins where the tangled roots of shrubs and bushes clutched at every crack and crevice. In Enver’s view of the world, Butrint was the cradle of Albanian history, an archaeological complex evidencing a continuity of settlement linking modern Albania with the ancient Illyrians.

For Enver’s Russian guests, Butrint was replete with opportunity. Nikita looked out over the saltwater lake connected to the sea by the Vivari Channel ( Kanali i Butrintit in Albanian). The waters decant into Butrint Bay. Closer to hand, a snake lay listless on the grass.

“This will make an ideal base for our submarines,” said one of the visitors.

Nikita nodded. “We shall have the most secure base in the Mediterranean,” he said.

From the summit of Mount Mile, there is a fine view west over the lagoons, inlets and low hills which provide such a distinctive setting for the classical ruins at Butrint in Albania. One can survey the Epirote coast from the port of Sarandë down to the frontier with Greece and beyond. On clear days, the bare slopes of Pantokrator seem so very close — just a stone’s throw away on the far side of the Corfu Channel. Those with a keen eye can pick out the clutter of aerials and communication dishes on the summit of Pantokrator.

Well can one understand why Russian leader Nikita Krushchev immediately appreciated the military potential tucked away in this remote corner of southern Albania. Greece had joined NATO in 1952, and a Soviet submarine base on the east side of the Corfu Channel would shift the geopolitical balance of the entire Mediterranean region in Moscow’s favour.

The Russian visitors to Butrint were not deterred by the hundreds of dead snakes which were draped over the ruins. Enver Hoxha had decreed that the snakes which infested the site should be poisoned well before the Russian leader and his entourage arrived. Everything had been made ready. A new road had been constructed down the coast from Sarandë to Butrint, merely to ensure that the Soviet guests could easily reach the archaeological site.

This is just an excerpt. The full text of this article is not yet available to members with online access to hidden europe. Of course you can read the full article in the print edition of hidden europe 51.
Related articleFull text online

Admiralty Handbooks: Baedekers with a Twist

Some of the best academic minds in Britain spent the Second World War writing guidebooks about far-flung places. We explore a clandestine area of professional geographical endeavour which resulted in the Naval Intelligence Guides – often called the Admiralty Handbooks.

Related articleFull text online

Changing Fortunes: Guidebooks and War

It's hard to imagine these days that any guidebook might ever sell 100,000 copies each month. But 100 years ago, in the second half of 1919, Michelin was managing just that. We explore how guidebooks fared in the years after the end of the First World War. As Baedeker fell into disfavour among English readers, other companies were quick to fill the gap.

Related articleFull text online

Viking voyages: Eirik Raudes Land

For a brief period in the early 1930s, the Norwegian flag fluttered over two remote settlements in eastern Greenland: Myggbukta and Antarctichavn. This is the story of Eirik Raudes Land (Erik the Red Land), an upstart territory named in honour of one of the Viking World's most celebrated mediaeval scoundrels.