There is nowhere to sit at the roomy Radio in Tirana, the capital of Albania. It’s a Thursday night, a New Orleans–style band is cranking out swing tunes, and the tables, surrounded by a vintage stash of the bar’s namesake electronic contraption, are filled with revelers sipping Aperol Spritzes. On the colorful, greenhouse-like patio, dressed with shelves of plants and dangling birdcages, a happy mix of young and old chat and laugh on yellow benches in between puffs of dwindling Marlboro Lights. The positive and carefree vibe is palpable, and it is echoed in restaurants, bars, and cafés throughout the neighborhood and across Tirana. Invitingly peculiar, this former stronghold of Communism is lively and affordable, its residents open and friendly.
Interest in Balkan countries has soared significantly in recent years, with curious travelers now regularly seeking out the serenity of the Adriatic Sea and medieval, stone-walled cities like Dubrovnik in Croatia and Kotor in Montenegro. Tirana does not embody such traditional, picturesque allure. Instead, it impresses as a soulful, urban hub with a strong personality shaped by a turbulent history. Much like Sarajevo remarkably moved past the atrocities of the 1990s to evolve into a thriving Eastern European capital, Albania is looking past its own decades of horror and isolation to the future.
Radio is located in a neighborhood called Ish-Blloku, also known as Blloku. Today “the Block” is a pulsating, upmarket entertainment vortex, lined with countless outdoor terraces that teem with well-dressed guests. It has a decidedly sultry, relaxed aura that is at turns reminiscent of Athens and Palermo. Yet during the Communist years, Blloku was off-limits to anyone who wasn’t a member of the party’s elite.