🔥 Crispy mornings, a crackling fire, and a coffee cup that warmed more than my hands

The Sea, the Mosquitoes, and Me

In 2021, I was lucky enough to join a small project in Albania. 

In 2021, I was lucky enough to join a small project in Albania. 

The place I stayed was part of a national park right by the sea — and honestly, there was nothing around except the endless ocean, flocks of giant forest mosquitoes, and endless olive trees. 

These mosquitoes were ten times bigger than the city ones I knew. 

At night, they came in armies, not just a few polite visitors. 

My hotel room was on the ground floor, where the damp from the earth seeped into the tiles. 

The floor always felt a little wet under my toes, like stepping on cold, tired sponges. 

After two nights of tiptoeing around, thanks to my boss’s expert negotiations with the hotel manager, I was upgraded to the second floor — where it was dry, bright, and slightly more mosquito-free.

A Cat, a Fireplace, and My European Movie Scene

The one normal thing in this wild new world? 

The hotel cat. 

Every morning, it would join me for breakfast, curling up next to my chair in the small dining room. 

Explore The Collection

Breakfast was a steady affair: sausages, tomatoes, bread, yogurt, greens, and fruits. 

But the real magic for a city girl like me, who only knew air conditioners, was the big, old wood stove. 

It was always lit before guests came down. 

I would settle onto the bench next to it, hugging my hot coffee, listening to the soft crackling of firewood, and watching the steam curl from my cup. 

For ten minutes each day, it was like I was living in a little European movie scene — simple, warm, and quietly perfect.

Lemon Trees, Pomegranates, and a Market Like No Other

Since we were far from any big city, there were no flashy markets or giant supermarkets. 

The hotel gardens weren’t just decoration — they were survival. 

Bright yellow lemons hung heavy on the branches. 

Pomegranate trees showed off their ruby fruits. 

And the olive trees, oh the olive trees — their dark, glossy fruits dangling like earrings in the sun. 

Nearby, there was a tiny local market that only opened twice a month. 

That’s where I discovered the *real* almonds, pistachios, and walnuts — piled high in giant sacks, sold by the kilo. 

They were freshly roasted, still warm and plump, not the sad, stale nuts sealed in plastic bags like I was used to. 

Each crunchy bite tasted like sunshine.

Seaside Walks and Tiny Discoveries

My weekend joy was simple: wandering the empty beaches. 

Since the coastline was protected forest, the plants there were strange and wonderful — at least to my curious eyes. 

Everywhere I looked, new shapes, new colors. 

I couldn’t stop taking photos — wide shots, close-ups, every weird leaf and twisted branch. 

It was the kind of panic only photographers know: the fear of missing something you might never see again. 

And sometimes, when I felt adventurous, a driver would take me winding through the mountain roads. 

Endless olive groves lined the paths, the trees heavy with ripe, juicy olives. 

It was the first time I’d seen them real and alive — not hollow and floating in glass jars. 

A tiny, silly discovery.  But somehow, it stitched bright little memories into my trip, like small, happy stars.