Berat: Where the Stones Remember Everything

Berat is made of light and shadow. A city that seems to grow out of the hill itself, with windows stacked like eyes, watching every century pass.

We arrived by bike through olive groves, and the first thing we heard wasn’t traffic, but the hum of bees and the soft ring of a distant bell. The Osum River ran below like a silver thread tying both sides of the city together.

There’s something reverent about pushing your bike up to the castle gates. Inside, women sweep ancient courtyards and kids play beside thousand-year-old walls. A church bell and a call to prayer echo at the same time, and somehow it makes perfect sense.

Later we drank wine in Roshnik, the kind that stains your lips purple and your heart red with memory. If you love history, ride here. If you love beauty, stay a while longer.