I loved the ‘Maldives of Europe’ – but a shadow looms over it

Hurtling down the freeway from Tirana along the snaking Albanian coastline, it feels hard to believe that this country was closed off from the world around it just three decades ago.

Benny, the name our driver Arban prefers to go by, is fiddling with Google Maps on the smart screen as Taylor Swift screams Fortnight through the speakers of our hybrid Volkswagen.

We whizz past forested hills almost eclipsed by shiny shopping malls, speedboat wholesalers and half-finished apartment blocks on the five-hour drive to Sarandë, a resort town on the Albanian Riveria which TikTok videos have christened the ‘Maldives of Europe’.

But as we draw closer to this Instagram-famous slice of paradise, the buildings come thicker and faster – mushrooming into a sprawling mass of multi-storey hotels that covers the coast of Sarandë’s horseshoe-shaped bay.

Having recently visited the Maldives, I can confirm that Albania’s southern seaside does boast a similar vista of sparkling blue ocean.

But an unprecedented tourism spike that has spawned a flurry of construction threatens to overshadow the spectacular scenery this small Balkan country has to offer. It’s hard to enjoy a view that’s dwarfed by a concrete jungle.

So what does a sudden surge in popularity mean for Albania and its visitors? How can its natural beauty be protected from the scourge of over-tourism?

A double-edged sword

Travel expert Nausheen Farishta tells me Albania’s tourism boom is a double-edged sword.

‘On one hand, it’s bringing much-needed opportunities to local communities,’ the founder of Globe Gazers says. ‘But we can’t turn a blind eye to the challenges that come with this rapid growth.’

Albania welcomed 7.5 million international arrivals in 2022, and 10.1 million in 2023, according to UN Tourism data. And that trend is only on the up.

Earlier this month, local news website Kosova Press ran a story with the headline ‘Albania is invaded by foreign tourists’. It reported that Prime Minister Edi Rama had announced 4.5 million foreign visitors had visited the country in the first six months of 2024 – a 34% increase on the same period last year.

There’s even a Reddit thread devoted to the issue, ominously titled ‘The consequences of mass tourism in Albania’.

It is an extraordinary turnaround for what was once one of Europe’s most isolated nations; a country that only opened its doors to foreign visitors when Communism fell after four decades of dictatorship in 1991.

But overcrowding, overbuilding and the damage wrought as a result were plain to see when I visited Albania in June with my two oldest friends.

An affordable paradise

We were on a girls’ trip, lured by fascinating history and viral videos of turquoise waves and pristine white sand.

A scour of travel websites gave us ample reason to book a holiday to the southern European country which borders Montenegro, Kosovo, North Macedonia and Greece: 400km of coastline peppered with pretty beaches, UNESCO world heritage sites, warm hospitality and sunny weather.

Like millions of others, we were also drawn by the price. Beachfront apartments in popular resort towns can be rented for less than £20 a night, and it’s not uncommon to find a full meal with drinks (we had octopus and mojitos) for little more than £15.

Flights are also remarkably affordable, with Wizz Air offering fares from London to Tirana from £58 one-way.

Albania has attractions in spades. But while it was thrilling to explore the museums and trendy bars of Tirana, and undeniably pleasant to lounge about on cabana beds along the Riviera, it would be remiss not to point out how chronically overbuilt this beautiful place has become.

‘Startlingly’ overcrowded

Jenoa Matthes, a roaming travel expert who writes local guides on European destinations, tells me it was startling to witness just how crammed the beaches had become in the coastal city of Durres.

We didn’t have time to make it to Durres, the most popular beach destination in Albania about an hour west of Tirana.

But most of the beaches we visited in Sarandë and Ksamil were busier than any I’ve ever seen. Sun loungers squeezed cheek by jowl, covering every grain of available sand… it doesn’t exactly exude the rest and relaxation you might associate with a ‘Maldives’ style destination.

It felt claustrophobic to lay your towel literally an inch from a stranger’s, in the shadow of breeze block apartments packed so tightly, each looked to be growing out of its neighbour. Poda Beach in Ksamil, the setting of dozens of viral TikTok clips that proclaim it ‘paradise’, was so crowded with people and chairs, we left after less than five minutes.

‘They really should have filmed the 360 view,’ one of my friends remarked.

And I couldn’t help but think about this for the duration of our trip.

Everywhere we went – idyllic beachfronts, hilltop wine bars, restaurants that served up world class seafood – I was consumed by the thought of sitting down with Albania’s tourism minister and begging her to stem the tide of rapid commercialisation.

It’s something she says she’s aware of. In an interview with The Independent earlier this year, Mirela Kumbaro declared: ‘You will not have mass-market holidays on the beach at Albanian resorts.’

She continued: ‘We think that we are complementary in this map of tourism between Croatia, Italy and Greece. So we are not going to see lots of hotels being built.’

But that’s exactly what I saw. And it threatens to ruin the natural attractions that make Albania special.

The ruination of cities

The fallout from years of over-tourism is rocking Europe this summer, as anti-tourist protests fill the streets of major Spanish cities, and demonstrations force cruise ships to change course.

In Barcelona, locals have taken to squirting tourists with water pistols. Earlier this year, demonstrators in the Canary Islands even staged a hunger strike in protest of a surge in holidaymakers.

Cities including Vienna, Berlin and Barcelona have placed restrictions on rentals, meaning landlords can only rent to tourists for a limited period each year. But while many destinations are pulling back from tourism, Albania is ploughing towards it, full throttle.

Visitors like me could be forgiven for seeing the country as one massive construction site, grey foundations casting shadows across the landscape from the mountainous north to the beach resorts of the south.

It’s clear that its recent tourism boom has left Albania with both tremendous opportunities and troubling challenges. But how officials navigate the trend from here on out will have profound implications for the future of what was once Europe’s poorest and most isolated country.

I know that Albania offers something truly unique. It would be a great shame to spoil it for the sake of catering to a tourist trade that could take its custom elsewhere as quickly as it arrived.

The Albanian Ministry for Tourism and Environment has been contacted for comment.

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