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Where Nature and Tradition Embrace in Albania’s Southeastern Heartland
A place where wild rivers flow between ancient mountains. Where thermal waters bubble from stone. Where grandmothers still make gliko preserves from recipes centuries old.
This is Përmet.
Known as the “City of Roses,” this southeastern Albanian treasure rests in the embrace of the majestic Trebeshinë-Dhëmbel-Nemërçkë mountains. The crystalline Vjosa River—Europe’s last wild river—carves through the landscape, its waters telling stories older than memory.
Founded centuries ago, then transformed through Ottoman rule and communist isolation, Përmet has emerged as a living narrative of Albania’s vibrant history. Yet somehow, it remains one of the country’s best-kept secrets.
In the next few minutes, we’ll journey through Përmet’s dramatic landscapes, taste its renowned cuisine, and discover why this small corner of Albania holds such oversized cultural significance.
This is your guide to a place where nature and tradition create perfect harmony.
The first time I visited Përmet, I was a child sent to stay with my aunt for a summer month after communism fell. Those weeks left an indelible impression—swimming in the crystal-clear Vjosa, hiking the mountains around my father’s ancestral village of Grabovë, and fishing with my cousin Foti, who knew every bend in the river and every trail through the hills.
Today, I’m returning to share this special place with you.
The Embrace of Mountains
“The air here feels different,” I tell my friend as we stand at the edge of town, watching morning light spill across the Vjosa valley. Përmet awakens slowly, the silhouettes of the Nemërçkë mountains (reaching 2,485 meters) gradually revealing themselves against the brightening sky.
We begin our day with a short climb up to the City Stone (Guri i Qytetit), a massive rock outcropping at the edge of town. Local legend claims it was thrown here by an ancient giant. The modest hike rewards us with panoramic views of Përmet and the surrounding landscape.
“My father’s family originally came from Zhulat in southern Albania,” I explain as we gaze out over the valley. “But when the Ottomans invaded, they fled to the highlands and settled in Grabovë, just beyond those mountains. This region has been a haven for those seeking refuge throughout history.”
From this vantage point, Përmet appears as a perfect marriage of nature and human settlement. The town’s red-tiled roofs cluster along the riverbank, while roses and other flowers create splashes of color between stone houses. It’s easy to understand why people call it the “City of Roses” and why it’s considered one of Albania’s greenest, cleanest towns.
As we descend back into town, the aroma of fresh byrek and strong mountain coffee draws us to a small café in the town center. Over breakfast, my friend notices the warm exchanges between patrons and staff—conversations punctuated by laughter and animated gestures.
“Përmet people are known for their hospitality,” I say. “It’s a place where different religions—Orthodox, Muslim, and Bektashi—have coexisted peacefully for centuries. That spirit of welcome extends to visitors too.”
A Taste of Tradition
No visit to Përmet would be complete without exploring its renowned culinary heritage. We make our way to the town market, where local producers display their specialties with evident pride.
“Përmet is famous throughout Albania for its gliko,” I explain, approaching a stall where a woman sells jars of these traditional fruit preserves. “Every family has their own recipe.”
We sample several varieties—walnuts still crisp inside their sweet syrup, tiny eggplants candied whole, and sour cherries that burst with flavor. The vendor explains how each preserve requires patience and precision: the green walnuts must be harvested at exactly the right time and soaked in limewater before cooking; the figs need to be gathered early in the morning while still firm.
“My aunt used to make gliko every summer,” I recall. “She’d serve a spoonful with cold water to welcome visitors—a tradition that continues in homes across Përmet.”
Beyond gliko, other local specialties tempt us: white cheese from mountain villages, bottles of raki infused with herbs, and debinë wine from local vineyards. We purchase a small jar of walnut gliko as a souvenir and continue our exploration.
Our lunch at a family-run restaurant introduces more traditional dishes: gjellë shqeto (a light lamb and yogurt soup), drudha (chicken stew with crumbled cornbread), and forest mushrooms foraged from the nearby mountains. The meal ends with a strong, aromatic coffee and reshedi (a dense pudding drizzled with syrup).
“Albanian cuisine reflects our history,” explains the restaurant owner. “The Ottoman influence, the isolation during communism when we had to be self-sufficient, and our connection to the land—it’s all there on the plate.”
The Wild Vjosa
After lunch, we head to the jewel of the region: the Vjosa River. In 2023, it became Europe’s first Wild River National Park, protecting its pristine waters and diverse ecosystem from dam construction and pollution.
“I spent countless hours by this river as a child,” I tell my friend as we walk along its banks. “My cousin Foti taught me to fish here. He knew exactly where the trout would be hiding and which flies they’d strike at different times of day.”
The Vjosa’s turquoise waters flow against white riverbanks, creating a spectacular contrast with the green valley and gray mountains. In some places, the river runs smooth and clear; in others, it churns white over rapids.
We’ve arranged to meet a local guide for rafting through the Këlcyrë Gorge. As we don life vests and receive safety instructions, our guide explains that the Vjosa originates in the Pindus Mountains of Greece (where it’s called the Aoos) and flows freely for 272 kilometers before reaching the Adriatic Sea.
“This is one of Europe’s last undammed rivers,” he explains proudly. “Over a thousand plant and animal species depend on it.”
The rafting adventure proves exhilarating—navigating rapids, floating through calm stretches where we can marvel at the canyon walls, and spotting birds of prey circling overhead. The power of the river is humbling, a reminder of nature’s untamed beauty.
“Now I understand why you love this place,” my friend says, soaked but smiling as we pull our raft ashore. “It feels alive.”
Thermal Waters and Timeless Music
As the afternoon wanes, we drive 14 kilometers to the village of Bënjë, home to Përmet’s famous thermal springs. The road winds through gorgeous countryside, past small villages where time seems to slow.
We arrive at the elegant Katiu Bridge, an Ottoman-era stone arch spanning the Lengarica River. Below it, several natural pools filled with thermal water invite weary travelers to soak.
“These springs have been used since ancient times,” I explain as we change into swimwear. “The water contains sulfur and other minerals believed to heal everything from skin conditions to arthritis.”
The warm water (around 30°C) feels divine after our active day. Steam rises from the pools, creating a mystical atmosphere as the setting sun paints the canyon walls golden. Other visitors—both locals and tourists—share the space respectfully, some engaged in quiet conversation, others simply closing their eyes in meditation.
“My father told me stories of how people would travel for days to reach these waters,” I say. “Some called them miracle springs. Science now explains the mineral benefits, but there’s still something magical about them.”
After our soak, we return to Përmet just as the town comes alive for the evening. Families stroll the main promenade, elderly men play dominoes in the park, and cafés fill with people enjoying the cool evening air.
We find a small tavern where a group of musicians is setting up—clarinet, violin, laouto (a type of lute), and dajre (a frame drum). Soon, the haunting sounds of iso-polyphonic music fill the room. This UNESCO-protected style of singing, where one voice leads and others provide a drone-like background, is a hallmark of southern Albanian culture.
“Përmet is renowned for its folk music,” I whisper as the clarinet player begins a soulful solo in the distinctive kaba style. “Musicians from this region, like the famous Laver Bariu, helped define Albania’s musical identity.”
The music evokes something primal and deeply moving. Even travelers who don’t understand the lyrics find themselves swaying to the rhythm, caught in the emotional current of these ancient melodies.
Over dinner—grilled trout from the Vjosa, mountain herbs, and local wine—we listen to songs passed down through generations. Stories of love, loss, resistance, and resilience echo in the ornamental phrases of the clarinet and the powerful harmonies of the singers.
“In these songs, you hear the soul of Albania,” I tell my friend. “Especially in Përmet, where culture and nature have always been intertwined.”
Villages Frozen in Time
For our second day, we venture into the countryside surrounding Përmet to discover villages where life continues much as it has for centuries.
We begin with a drive to Leusë, a small village perched on a mountainside with spectacular views of the valley. Its crown jewel is the Church of St. Mary, built in 1700 and famed for its stunning frescoes and wooden iconostasis.
As we approach the whitewashed church, an elderly caretaker greets us warmly and unlocks the heavy wooden door. Inside, the walls come alive with vibrant Byzantine-style paintings depicting saints, biblical scenes, and everyday life from the 18th century.
“These frescoes were painted by local masters,” the caretaker explains. “They used natural pigments from the surrounding mountains and forests.”
The church stands as a testament to Përmet’s importance as a cultural crossroads—Eastern Orthodox tradition blended with local Albanian elements, creating something uniquely beautiful.
From Leusë, we continue to Frashër, the ancestral home of the Frashëri brothers—Abdyl, Naim, and Sami—who were pivotal figures in Albania’s national awakening during the late 19th century. Their family house now serves as a small museum.
“These three brothers helped shape modern Albanian identity,” I explain as we walk through rooms filled with manuscripts, photographs, and personal belongings. “Naim was our national poet, Sami created the first Albanian dictionary, and Abdyl was a political leader who fought for independence from the Ottoman Empire.”
Standing in the simple stone house where such influential minds once gathered, my friend comments on how often small places produce great thinkers. “Perhaps it’s the solitude of mountains,” I suggest, “or the need to reach beyond one’s borders when physical space is limited.”
Nature’s Cathedral
Our final destination is the Fir of Hotova National Park, often called the “lungs of southern Albania.” This vast protected forest (over 34,000 hectares) is one of the largest of its kind in the Balkans and remains lush and green even in summer’s heat.
As we hike beneath ancient fir trees, the filtered sunlight creates patterns on the forest floor. The air feels noticeably cooler and carries the scent of pine resin and wild herbs.
“My cousin Foti knew all the medicinal plants in these forests,” I say, pointing out wild oregano growing alongside the trail. “He could treat a cold, a cut, or a stomachache with leaves and roots gathered right here.”
The biodiversity is remarkable—from tiny alpine flowers to mushrooms erupting from fallen logs. Birds call from the canopy, and occasionally we spot tracks of wild boar or fox along the muddy sections of trail.
After about an hour of hiking, we reach a clearing with views of the Nemërçkë mountains rising dramatically across the valley. We pause for a simple picnic of bread, cheese, and fruit purchased from village markets earlier in the day.
“This is Albania at its most authentic,” I say, gesturing to the panorama before us. “Unspoiled, unhurried, and deeply connected to the land.”
The Flavor of Memory
For our final evening in Përmet, we’re invited to dinner at a local family’s home—an experience that reveals the true heart of Albanian hospitality.
The table overflows with home-cooked dishes: peppers stuffed with rice and herbs, slow-roasted lamb with mountain potatoes, fresh salads drizzled with local olive oil, and of course, several varieties of gliko for dessert. Each dish comes with a story—where the ingredients were grown, how the recipe was passed down, what occasions traditionally call for such food.
As is customary, we begin the meal with a toast of homemade raki. “Gezuar!” (Cheers!) echoes around the table, and the strong fruit brandy warms our throats and loosens conversation.
Our host family, learning of my connection to Grabovë, eagerly shares their knowledge of the village and asks after my relatives. Names and stories flow freely, strengthening invisible threads that connect Albanians across time and distance.
“This is what I miss most when I’m away,” I confide to my friend later. “Not just the food or the landscapes, but this sense of belonging—of being part of a continuous story.”
As night falls, we sit in the garden listening to more iso-polyphonic songs, this time performed informally by family members who learned them from their parents and grandparents. The moon rises over Nemërçkë mountain, silvering the landscape that has witnessed countless such gatherings through centuries.
Beyond Përmet
Përmet rewards those who linger, but even a day or two reveals its essential character. For travelers planning their own journey to this special corner of Albania, here are some practical considerations:
Getting There: Përmet lies about 3.5 hours by car from Tirana. The most convenient approach is to rent a vehicle, allowing flexibility to explore the surrounding villages and natural sites. Alternatively, daily buses connect Përmet to the capital and to nearby Gjirokastër (about 70km away).
Accommodation: Several family-run guesthouses and small hotels offer comfortable, authentic lodging. Expect to pay between $17 and $50 per night, depending on amenities. Many places include home-cooked breakfast featuring local products.
When to Visit: The region is most beautiful from late spring through early autumn (May to October). Summer brings warm days perfect for river activities, while spring and fall offer milder hiking weather and fewer visitors. Winter is quiet, with some places closed, though the thermal springs remain inviting year-round.
Essential Experiences:
- Soak in the thermal springs at Bënjë
- Raft or kayak on the Vjosa River
- Hike in the Fir of Hotova National Park
- Sample local gliko preserves and raki
- Attend a traditional music performance
- Visit the ancient Church of St. Mary in Leusë
- Explore the Frashëri Brothers’ house museum
- Climb the City Stone for panoramic views
Packing Tips: Bring sturdy shoes for hiking, swimwear for the thermal springs, and light layers for changing mountain weather. If planning to camp or hike extensively, a good map or GPS is essential as trail markings can be inconsistent.
The Heart of Albania
As we prepare to leave Përmet, I find myself gathering memories like precious stones: the taste of walnut gliko, the sound of clarinet echoing off canyon walls, the sensation of thermal waters soothing tired muscles, and most of all, the genuine warmth of the people.
“I understand now why you call this the gem of Albanian culture,” my friend says as we take one last look at the town from the road leading out. “It’s not just preserved here—it’s alive and evolving.”
Përmet exists at a special intersection—where natural beauty meets cultural depth, where tradition embraces careful progress, and where the Albanian spirit finds perhaps its purest expression. It’s a place that stays with you long after you’ve left its mountains behind.
For those seeking the authentic heart of Albania—one beating to rhythms established centuries ago yet facing confidently toward the future—Përmet offers a rare and precious welcome.
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