Ethnoptiqa

The 1836 mosaic (not a fresco!) showing Christ in Glory - 'The Last Judgement', above the main entrance of St. Mark's Basilica in Venice. It is an early 19th Century copy of the original, much older mosaic which was destroyed by fire.

Garlic and metal stakes? At first glance, you would be forgiven for thinking that Albania has a bit of a problem - a vampire problem. Garlic bulbs, pierced through their heart with nails, suspended from rafters and roof eves!?

Indeed, the word 'vampire' may originate from the Albanian 'dham pir' or 'tooth drinker' (meaning the child of a human and vampire) and, later, from the Slavic 'vapir' - blood drinker.

These days, though, (or at least in the Albanian context) garlic is symbolic of purification and protection, and the nail...well, I haven't quite worked that one out yet, but generally people say it symbolises piercing and protection, with reference to the ancient Albanian word 'M'sysh' or evil eye, similar in concept to the now well-known Turkish blue glass evil-eye amulets you can buy at all touristy stalls.

More commonly, Albanians hang teddies and soft toys out on their perimeter fences or below the eves of newly-constructed buildings to ward against evil and bad wishes (I've even seen a teletubby!). More rarely in the smaller villages, you'll spot garlic like the ones pictured here. Albanian mothers apparently also say that you should always have garlic (a clove or bulb!?) in your pocket to stay safe.

When it comes to local lore, beliefs and superstitions, a brief foray into an Albanian village is not going to reveal much, as these enduring practices are both personal and closely-guarded. What I do know is that if Albania does happen to have vampires, they face an uphill struggle!

See my older IG post on the teddies of Albania:

https://www.instagram.com/p/B_9rakHAyuh/?igsh=MWtzOTI1azR4cjFpYw==

If you take a walk up the muddy mountain tracks behind the little villages that sit below Galicica National Park, you may stumble across a badly kept 'secret' that all the locals seem to know about. Hidden in little forest clearings or next to small ravines and waterways, there are chestnut trees. Not horse chestnuts (conkers) which are beautiful and inedible, but the sweet chestnuts which are one of the most nutritious seasonal (late autumn and winter) ingredients that can be foraged. In Ohrid town, they are often roasted and sold in little paper bags, replacing the salted corn-on-the-cobs of the summer tourist months.

At first between tractor tyre ruts, there'll be the dry gnarled brown chestnut burs from last year, crunching underfoot. As you progress, you'll spot the opened green burs discarded by earlier collectors - impossibly spiky on the outside, and creamy white inside. Eventually, if you are lucky, you'll come across a cache of freshly fallen burs under the mature chestnut trees and away from the pathways, waiting to be discovered. It's always the hardest to reach trees which have the best pickings.

In a good year, you can kick the nuts out of the leaf litter and collect a good haul, but in dry years it's better to arm yourself with a pair of sturdy gloves and be prepared to scramble around on your hands and knees! And if you finally manage to detach yourself from errant bramble thorns, flick off ravenous deer keds and prise open the prickly chestnut cases, you'll be rewarded with beautiful polished chestnuts - sometimes 3 snuggled together, a rich unblemished red and promisingly plump.

The forest is disturbed only by the rustling of other collectors, the occasional squirrel and the steady drop of chestnuts from the branches above as they hit the ground and roll downhill - I do wonder whether a helmet might be a good idea! If you are very lucky, you might find an audacious magpie toadstool, or a little bright blue and black feather from an Eurasian Jay - the primary connoisseurs of this year's newest chestnuts who shout their findings with raucous abandon from the foliage overhead.