For my generation, the People’s Socialist Republic of Albania was a place of mystery, both exotic and dangerous. The first time I visited was in 1990. I went with a group of journalists and a couple of archaeologists – we were pretending the visit was an “archaeological tour”. There was no translator and we had maybe four words of Albanian between us. Needless to say, the writer I was with had a pretty hopeless time trying to interview people, but as the only photographer in the group, I had a fantastic trip.
We were there for a few weeks, touring communes and cooperative farms as well a tractor factory where no tractors were being made. We got as far as Shkodër, on the edge of the Accursed mountains, but were only able to make a very limited trip to the north, which was what really intrigued me. Exploring that mountain region only became a possibility 18 months later, following the collapse of the communist regime.
