The Via Egnatia once carried legions from the Adriatic to Constantinople. Now local officials are covering it with asphalt — and historians are furious.

The mayor of Peqin thought he was being helpful. His crews had just finished laying fresh black asphalt along both sides of a 2,000-year-old Roman road that once carried Julius Caesar’s legions across the Balkans. He posted photos on Facebook, proud of what he called “restoration work” that would make the ancient Via Egnatia accessible to tourists and residents alike.

Historian Auron Tare wasn’t buying it. The UNESCO committee chairman and former director of Albania’s Parku Kombëtar i Butrintit fired off an immediate response, calling the asphalting “a massacre to the detriment of Cultural Heritage” and warning that Albania’s “European heritage cannot end up drowned with the asphalt of ignorance.”

The fight over a few hundred meters of ancient paving stones might seem like a local spat, but it reveals something much larger about Albania’s troubled relationship with its own heritage. As the country pushes toward European Union membership and courts international tourists, it’s systematically destroying the very historical treasures that could set it apart from Mediterranean competitors flooded with visitors.

The Via Egnatia wasn’t just any Roman road. Built between 146-120 BC, it stretched 1,120 kilometers — twice the length of the famous Via Appia — connecting Durrës on the Adriatic coast to Constantinople on the Bosphorus. For two millennia, it served as Europe’s main east-west artery, carrying everyone from Roman legions to early Christian missionaries. The Apostle Paul walked these stones on his journey from Asia to Europe.

Today, less than one percent of the original paving survives anywhere along the route. That makes the segments still visible in Albania extraordinarily precious — and extraordinarily vulnerable.

A Pattern of Destruction

The asphalt controversy in Peqin represents just one front in a broader heritage crisis. At Durrës, where the Via Egnatia began its journey east, a port company has bulldozed 78 meters of the 140-meter Roman defensive wall that once guarded the road’s symbolic starting point. The destruction happened between 2020 and 2021, even as prosecutors investigated the company for heritage violations.

The timeline reads like a case study in institutional paralysis. In July 2020, heritage officials warned of risks and requested work suspension. By August, territory protection inspectors sought police support to halt illegal construction. Prosecutors opened a criminal case in September. Yet the MBM Port company continued destroying the ancient walls through December 2021, flattening archaeological layers that spanned from Greek colonial times through the Byzantine era.

This pattern of heritage destruction is precisely what the Albania Heritage Foundation was created to prevent. The foundation funds archaeological excavations and documents threatened sites before development destroys them, recognizing that “Albania’s real wealth lies thousands of years underground” and requires professional preservation before irreplaceable sites are lost forever to concrete and asphalt.

Europa Nostra, Europe’s leading heritage organization, placed the site on its “7 Most Endangered” shortlist earlier this year, noting that “port development has been underway inside a protected zone and that since 2020 extensive damage to the Roman wall has been observed.”

Back in Peqin, Mayor Bukurosh Maçi remains defiant. When Albanian media pressed him about the criticism, he told Report TV that “asphalt is there and can be removed, but it protects the road and makes it immortal.” He dismissed critics as “ill-intentioned” people who simply don’t want the municipality to improve local infrastructure.

But conservation science tells a different story. Asphalt expands and contracts at three to six times the rate of limestone when temperatures change, creating destructive stress at the interface with ancient stones. The petroleum-based compounds penetrate porous Roman masonry, altering its mineral structure through chemical reactions. Most critically, asphalt creates an impermeable barrier that prevents the stone from “breathing,” trapping moisture that leads to freeze-thaw damage.

Summer temperatures on asphalt surfaces can reach 60-70°C — thermal shock that would make a Roman engineer weep.

Where the Road Still Lives

For travelers determined to walk in Caesar’s footsteps, Albania offers the Via Egnatia’s most authentic surviving segments, though reaching them requires effort that mass-market tourism hasn’t yet discovered.

The best-preserved section lies near Mirakë village in the Polis Mountains above the Shkumbin River valley, about 30 kilometers east of Elbasan. Here, original Roman paving stones still form a path wide enough for two carts, flanked by the ancient curbstones that guided imperial traffic for 2,000 years. The stones bear the telltale grooves worn by countless iron-rimmed wheels, and careful observers can spot Roman milestones marking distances to major cities.

In Peqin itself — asphalt controversy aside — a two-kilometer stretch of Via Egnatia remains visible along the town’s eastern edge. Despite the municipal “restoration,” visitors can still distinguish original Roman stonework from modern additions. The town museum provides context about the road’s construction and historical significance, though explanatory materials remain primarily in Albanian.

Near Elbasan, the massive walls of ancient Scampis rise where Via Egnatia crossed the Shkumbin River. Originally built by Emperor Diocletian as a fortress, the site later became a crucial Byzantine stronghold controlling the mountain passes. The walls stretch for nearly two kilometers, incorporating Roman masonry techniques that survived earthquakes and invasions through the centuries.

At Durrës, despite the recent destruction, visitors can still see portions of the ancient harbor where Via Egnatia met the sea. The city’s Archaeological Museum displays artifacts from excavations along the road’s route, including Roman milestones, inscribed boundary markers, and mosaics from roadside settlements. The amphitheater, built when Durrës served as the road’s western terminus, ranks among the Balkans’ largest Roman monuments.

For hiking enthusiasts, the Via Egnatia Foundation has mapped a modern walking route that follows the ancient alignment across Albania. The trail passes through traditional mountain villages where residents still use Roman bridges and medieval caravanserais that once sheltered imperial messengers. Spring and autumn offer the best conditions, with wildflowers blooming among ancient ruins and cooler temperatures for mountain crossings.

Europe’s Forgotten Highway

The international community has taken notice of Albania’s heritage struggles. The European Union has committed €922 million to Albania for 2024-2027 under pre-accession funding, with cultural heritage preservation explicitly linked to anëtarësimi në BE progress. The €40 million EU4Culture programme specifically targets Albanian heritage sites, yet these investments risk being undermined by continued local destruction.

Greece has invested €4.2 million in EU funding for Cultural Egnatia Odos projects along its section of the route, creating protective shelters and interpretation centers with virtual reality experiences. Italy’s Via Appia achieved UNESCO World Heritage status in July 2024, with the first 10 miles preserved as a regional park that demonstrates how to balance archaeological protection with sustainable tourism.

Albania’s approach looks increasingly isolated. While neighboring countries leverage their Roman heritage to attract cultural tourists willing to spend significantly more than beach vacationers, Albanian municipalities pursue quick fixes that destroy the very authenticity that could distinguish the country in an oversaturated tourism market.

The irony cuts deep. Albania possesses some of Europe’s most important and least-visited archaeological sites, protected by decades of communist isolation from mass development. Yet as the country opens to the world, local authorities seem determined to modernize away the historical assets that could provide sustainable economic development for generations.

Auron Tare’s phrase — “our road to Europe” — captures more than poetic sentiment. The Via Egnatia literally connected Albania to European civilization two millennia ago. How the country treats this inheritance will signal whether it understands that authentic heritage tourism requires, above all, authentic heritage.

For now, travelers willing to venture beyond Albania’s stunning coastline can still walk the stones that carried empires. But they should hurry. At the current pace of “restoration,” future visitors may find only asphalt where once stood monuments to human ambition carved in stone.

Dear reader – the choice is stark: watch Albania’s cultural treasures disappear forever, or help us preserve them for future generations. Donate now — because once these archaeological sites are gone, they’re gone forever.