Written by: Auron Tare
Every time I travel to the South, I stop by the old springs, those silent places where the water gurgles with a sleepy softness. Once upon a time, caravans would rest at these springs, travelers would quench their thirst, horses would drink water from the pond, and people would exchange news, smoke, and thoughts. They were small places, but at peace with nature.
Today, most of them are either dry or covered with plastic bottles, beer cans, and the trash of a civilization that only knows how to produce waste.
The Albanian of old had many flaws like every Balkan people, but he did have one virtue: he respected the source of water. The spring was not just water. It was a blessing, it was hospitality, it was civilization. That is why springs were built in the mountains, at the mouths of roads and near bridges. The stones were carefully carved, plane trees and lindens were planted, and the unknown traveler rested undisturbed under the protection of the gods of springs.
While today the modern Albanian, this "man of development", as he likes to call himself, stops by the fountain, throws the bag of chips out the car window and continues on his way with the pride of a barbarian who remembers that asphalt is civilization.
Years ago, I proposed a modest initiative for the restoration of historical springs and sources. Not for folkloric nostalgia, but because they are part of our national memory. A people that does not preserve the spring stone cannot preserve its history.
Take, for example, the Cold Water in Tepelena. Edward Lear's engraving, made a full 176 years ago, depicts a landscape so romantic and noble that it seems as if nature itself had decided to rest there.
Today, the Kroi of Ali Pasha Tepelena no longer exists. The majestic plane tree, under whose shade European travelers once rested, stands like a forgotten old man, surrounded by plastic bottles and bags.
Further down the Vjosa Valley near Tre Urave, was the Kroi i Vasha. Until the road was paved, it stood there in all its silent beauty. Caravans would stop, horses would drink water from the pond, and travelers would find some coolness in the southern heat.
Then came the modern asphalt company, this latest symbol of Albanian progress, and, to make a long story short, it demolished the centuries-old carved walls and turned the fountain into a frog pond.
This is our tragicomic, we started building roads, but we lost our way.
t7 live
