Last summer, I decided to explore Butrint, a UNESCO World Heritage Site renowned for its deep historical roots and ancient ruins. Nestled near the southern coast and close to the increasingly popular towns of Sarande and Ksamil, Butrint seemed like the perfect cultural stop to balance out Albania’s sun-and-sea appeal. Unfortunately, visiting during peak season turned out to be more frustrating than fulfilling. The drive from Ksamil was the first hurdle. Traffic was completely jammed with beachgoers and tour buses, inching their way through narrow roads. Albania's Riviera is clearly booming in popularity, and it shows, especially in places like Ksamil, where every square meter seems overtaken by tourists. By the time I arrived at Butrint, the car park was already overflowing. After several loops without luck, I had to park along the road, far from ideal and hardly safe.

Inside the archaeological park, the situation didn’t improve much. The site was packed with tourists, guided groups, families, and independent travelers all crammed along the same paths. The atmosphere felt more like a busy festival than a heritage site. It became hard to appreciate the historical setting with the constant movement, noise, and lack of order. At times, simply taking a photo without a crowd of tourists in the background meant waiting quite a while, and when I finally got a clear shot, it felt like winning the lottery. The ruins themselves are pleasant, and it's always fascinating to walk through a space where Greek, Roman, Byzantine, and Venetian footprints overlap. But truthfully, nothing stood out as particularly remarkable, at least not in the setting I experienced. One particularly disappointing spot was the Roman bath. The water was a murky green, stagnant, and emitted a strong, unpleasant odor — likely due to algae or lack of drainage. It didn’t help the image of a preserved site, and only reinforced my growing concern on Butrint, despite its status and significance, seems to suffer from a lack of proper management. What concerned me most, however, was the general lack of proper site management. It became clear to me that Albania is still learning how to handle tourism at this scale. Unlike Italy or Greece where even the busiest archaeological sites tend to have structured access, clear signage, and basic amenities in place, Albania’s approach feels unprepared for the sudden influx of international visitors.

While the country is full of charm and potential, especially in cultural tourism, the level of management is still catching up to its growing popularity. In conclusion, I’m glad I visited Butrint and witnessed a piece of Albania’s ancient heritage, but I left with mixed feelings. The historical value is real, but the visitor experience suffers from overcrowding and a lack of organization. If Albania wants to protect its treasures and make them truly memorable for future travelers, stronger site management and investment in sustainable tourism are urgently needed. Perhaps a better experience could be had by visiting in the off-season, when the crowds thin out and the ruins can be appreciated in the quieter, more contemplative atmosphere they deserve.