Summer in Pogradec has a way of making time feel softer. The lake turns clear and inviting, stretching out under the heavy sun, its surface broken only by swimmers and the slow rhythm of paddleboards. The promenade is alive each evening, humming with the mingled voices of locals and visitors, laughter echoing between cafe tables. In winter, the streets speak almost entirely in Albanian. But in summer, they become a mosaic of languages, each adding its own thread to the season’s tapestry.
This year I’ve tried to lean into it - to say yes to dinners even when I’ve already eaten, to stay out later than I should, to choose connection over a little more sleep. It’s the kind of summer where a paddle on the lake at sunset can flow naturally into pizza at a friend’s pizzeria, where the glow of the evening stretches long after the plates are cleared.
Not everything follows a perfect plan. The morning I was meant to leave for Ireland, I found a flat tire waiting in the driveway. It was a small problem - just a tiny screw lodged in the tread - and the tire shop had me on my way soon enough. A week later I was back, carrying memories of reconnecting with my cousin at his wedding, and falling back into the rhythm of work and life here.
One of my first stops was to photograph a friend’s newly renovated Airbnb - a bright, airy space on the second floor of his house. That evening we sat in the garden with another friend, sharing food, stories, and the kind of easy laughter that carries late into the night. Three people from three different countries - Albania, Northern Ireland, and the United States - finding common ground under the summer sky.
I did a consulting session over coffee. I haven’t done many yet, but each one makes me realize just how much I have to offer - and chips away at the quiet doubts I’ve carried about my own expertise. Later, a walk through town revealed something unusual for this time of year: restaurants dismantling their outdoor seating areas in the height of tourist season. My friend Marjo was doing the same at his cafe, and I helped him take down the patio in exchange for one of the best breakfast burritos I’ve eaten in years.
Not long after, work took me into the mountains to the village of Voskopoje. A team from Nashville had come to help run a junior high camp, and I spent the week documenting their days. One evening we lit a fire on the hillside and roasted s’mores. After the kids went to bed, I stayed behind, looking up at a night sky scattered with stars, thinking about the meteor shower that’s on its way.
The summer heat had left my plants parched. That first morning back was spent watering, cleaning, and catching up on all the unglamorous but necessary work of keeping a home. It’s not the part of summer anyone photographs, but it’s as much a part of life here as the sunsets and long lake evenings.
We’re halfway through the season now - halfway through the hot days and the cotton candy skies. I hope the rest of summer holds more of the same: good work, good company, and moments that linger long after the days grow shorter.
