Albania: Forget Communism...or sell it.

It seems that almost anything can be used to get a tourist buck. A small town in Manitoba's fame is a giant mosquito statue to advertise that it is a mosquito capital. However, there are no reports of mass visits.

ALBANIA: Forget Communism...or Sell It
By Zoltán Dujisin

TIRANA, Aug 10 (IPS) - Bunkers? Underground catacombs? Submarine bases? Albania has been shaped by one of the most bizarre communist regimes ever and the potential to exploit it for tourism is inestimable.

The possibilities for what has been termed as 'communist heritage tourism' are present, but as with other post-socialist countries in the region, the attempt at creating a communist-free national identity since the 1990s is in conflict with Western tourists' increasing interest in remnants of the communist past.

"If there are people interested just in these 50 years of history, why not offer it?" says Nevila Popa, business development specialist for USAID in Albania. While it remains a niche market, some, as Gent Mati from the tourism agency Outdoors Albania, confirm "there is interest for this paranoid, psychotic regime."

Several monuments suffered destruction at the hands of angry crowds when state socialism collapsed, but much remains for the curious eye.

"We have so many elements of communism that it is unavoidable; anywhere we drive you see the signs," Mati told IPS. "It's an integral part of Albanian history and more constantly present than other monuments you would have to seek."

On arriving in capital Tirana it becomes obvious that the architecture of socialism dominates the urban landscape. A visit to the National Historical Museum, itself an example of socialist realist art, will suffice to grasp just how much weight communism had in Albania's recent history.

Communism came to Albania in 1944, and relations with other socialist states were normal up until 1961, when the country's leader, Enver Hoxha, broke with the 'revisionist' Soviet Union and decided to draw closer to China.

Hoxha imitated the concept of 'cultural revolution' from China, but the alliance lasted only until 1978, when Beijing normalised relations with the United States and angered Tirana. Albania decided to go its own, nationalistic and still Stalinist way, resulting in complete isolation and even harsher economic conditions.

The political isolation made the regime paranoid, the most telling example of this being the building of around 750,000 bunkers between 1974 and 1986 to protect Albanian citizens from what Tirana perceived as a hostile international environment.

The engineer who designed them was said to be so confident of their indestructibility that state officials had a bunker tested against rockets with the designer himself inside. The engineer survived, and mass production of bunkers commenced.

These are now one of the trademarks of the Albanian landscape. Some, mostly Albanians, think the bunkers spoil Albania's beautiful countryside, whereas others, mostly foreigners, see in the mushroom-like structures a chilling but fascinating sign of an obscure political history.

What is undeniable is that Albania's bunkers, whose concrete could have solved much of Albania's housing problems, are omnipresent: outside cities and towns, on mountain slopes and hills and on the seaside, in varying sizes. They are mostly abandoned, and used as public toilets, waste containers or lover hideouts.

Yet some have been given a more creative function: a few concrete structures have been covered with psychedelic pink and purple motifs following an initiative of the culture ministry.

In the coastal resort of Durres, less than an hour's drive from Tirana, bunkers have been re-interpreted in a more commercial fashion, and now serve refreshments to sun and water bathers.

Yet some of the attractions of the potential communist heritage tourism are not as ubiquitous, and one will literally have to sink deep to find them.

"The ministry of defence is being lobbied to open unused military bases, some of which are at very beautiful places, and which could be restored at museums," Mati told IPS.

One of these places is the bay of Palermo, on Albania's southern shore, where a former Soviet submarine base, now abandoned, is begging for visitors. The World Bank, in cooperation with the ministry of tourism, is already on the case trying to open up the infrastructure for tourism.

The base is carved on a cliff in the idyllic bay, which also happens to be one of the most attractive spots for unspoiled Mediterranean swimming.

Another possibility involves the medieval catacombs under the southern Albanian city Gjirokaster, a United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO) World Heritage Site.

The catacombs were adapted by communist officials for use by the party leadership or in case of war, and they remain closed to the public. Within the dozens of rooms connected by its corridors, some communist era objects such as generators, tables, and nameplates survive.

"The complex was intended to survive a nuclear attack," David Bragg, working on tourism promotion in Gjirokaster for the humanitarian organisation Peace Corps told IPS. "If you find the right route, it would make a really neat tourist attraction." (END/2007)