The ferry from Corfu cuts through morning fog, and suddenly there it is: a stone castle perched 200 meters above turquoise coves, white churches dotting olive-green hillsides like scattered dice. Himara sits on Albania’s Ionian coast, population 2,800, where 70% identify as Orthodox Christian and the architecture tells a story older than the tourists who haven’t found it yet. The drive north from Saranda takes 50 minutes on the SH8 coastal road, each curve revealing another rocky beach the crowds haven’t reached.
This isn’t Ksamil’s white-sand postcards or Saranda’s developed waterfront. Himara keeps its pebble coves and hilltop ruins quiet, the kind of place where fishing boats leave at 5am and return by noon, where tavernas serve grilled octopus for $10 and close when the last customer leaves.
The castle that watches the sea
Himara Castle sits 140 to 240 meters above sea level, depending on which crumbling wall you’re standing on. The climb from the promenade takes 15 minutes through narrow stone lanes where cats sleep in doorways and laundry hangs between medieval houses. No ticket booth, no guided tours. Just arched gates, winding paths, and the Church of St. Mary still holding services for locals who’ve walked these stones for generations.
The southern terrace offers the view that explains everything: Livadhi Beach curves below in a perfect arc of pebbles and clear water, the Ionian stretching toward Corfu on clear days. Morning light hits the castle walls around 7am in February, turning the stone honey-gold for maybe twenty minutes before the day settles into its usual gray-blue palette.
Porto Palermo Castle sits 12 miles south, nearly islanded by water at the end of a narrow peninsula. The fortress dates to the early 1800s, built when this coastline meant something different than beach bars and boat tours. Walk the ramparts alone in winter. The view hasn’t changed much.
Orthodox heritage in stone and silence
Churches that outnumber tourists
The town’s Byzantine past shows in the Church of St. Mary within the castle walls, active for celebrations, intact frescoes visible through the dim interior. Himara’s Orthodox population built these worship spaces during centuries of Ottoman rule, maintaining semi-autonomy through faith and stone. The 2011 census counted 2,822 residents in the town center, 70.5% Orthodox, many claiming Greek heritage alongside Albanian identity.
The churches aren’t museum pieces. Locals attend services, light candles, maintain the icons. Easter processions wind through the old quarter, but February offers something quieter: empty sanctuaries, the smell of incense lingering from Sunday mass, olive groves visible through arched windows.
The Greek-Albanian fabric
Walk the upper town and you’ll hear Greek spoken as often as Albanian. Street signs use both alphabets. The cultural blend runs deeper than language: family names, cooking traditions, the way people greet strangers with coffee before questions. This isn’t a tourist performance. It’s what happens when borders shift but people stay rooted.
Rocky coves and boat-access beaches
Where the Ionian meets pebbles
Livadhi Beach spreads below the castle, pebbly and clear, the kind of water where you can see your feet at 10 feet deep. Gjipe Beach requires a 20-minute canyon hike, revealing a cove where a river meets the sea in a mix of fresh and salt water. Jale Beach sits a few miles south, accessible by car but empty enough in February that you’ll have the shore to yourself.
The water temperature hovers around 57°F in winter. Too cold for swimming, perfect for shore walks where the only sound is waves on stones. Summer transforms these beaches into social spaces with umbrellas and music. February keeps them elemental.
Boat tours to hidden grottos
Local operators run tours to coves inaccessible by road, though winter schedules thin out considerably. Grama Bay holds ancient cliff inscriptions, Illyrian and Greek markings carved 2,300 years ago by sailors who stopped here for shelter. The boat ride from Himara’s small harbor takes 30 minutes, revealing sea caves and rock formations that summer crowds photograph from packed decks.
Porto Palermo’s underwater ruins appear on calm days, visible through clear water near the castle’s peninsula. Snorkeling gear recommended if you’re visiting between May and October. February offers the view from above: stone walls meeting turquoise depth, the kind of scene that makes you understand why people built fortresses here.
Village rhythms and taverna culture
The old quarter climbs the hillside in tight stone lanes barely wide enough for two people to pass. Houses date to Ottoman times, some restored, others slowly returning to the earth. Tavernas cluster near the promenade, serving fresh fish grilled over charcoal, byrek pastries filled with spinach or cheese, the local raki that tastes like grapes and burns like regret.
Prices run lower than you’d expect: $8 for grilled squid, $12 for a whole sea bream, $4 for a plate of olives and feta. The food isn’t fancy. It’s what locals eat, prepared the way their grandmothers taught them, served without ceremony or English menus.
Guesthouses in the old town charge $40 to $60 per night in February, half the summer rates. Stone walls, simple furniture, views of either the castle or the sea depending on which way your window faces. No boutique hotels yet. The general store sells fishing bait and coffee from the same counter.
Your questions about Himara answered
How do I actually get there?
Fly into Tirana International Airport, 185 miles north, then rent a car for the 5-hour drive south on coastal roads. Or fly to Corfu, Greece, take the 40-minute ferry to Saranda for around $35, then drive 31 miles north on the SH8. The coastal road curves along cliffs with the Ionian below, passing through small villages similar to Prvić’s stone architecture but with Albanian character. No direct buses in winter. A car gives you access to beaches and Porto Palermo.
What’s the Orthodox heritage actually about?
Himara maintained semi-autonomy under Ottoman rule through its Greek-Albanian population’s Orthodox faith. Families built churches as acts of resistance and devotion, creating the dense religious landscape visible today. The Church of St. Mary in the castle still holds services. Easter brings processions, but winter offers quiet contemplation in sanctuaries that have stood for centuries. This isn’t Kimolos’s church density, but the spiritual weight feels similar.
How does Himara compare to Ksamil?
Ksamil draws crowds to its white-sand beaches and “Albanian Maldives” marketing. Himara offers rocky coves, hilltop castle views, and fewer tourists. Ksamil’s beaches get packed in summer; Himara’s pebble shores stay manageable. Both sit on the Albanian Riviera, but Himara feels more like Corsica’s stone villages meeting the Ionian than a beach resort. Prices run similar, but Himara’s authenticity comes without the crowds. Choose based on whether you want white sand and social energy or rocky coves and quiet mornings.
The ferry back to Corfu leaves at 3pm most winter days. Locals gather at the harbor café, drinking coffee that’s mostly grounds, watching the water. The castle catches afternoon light around 4pm, turning the stone walls amber against the darkening sea. Most visitors photograph it from the beach. The better view is from the ramparts looking down, where you can see the whole coast stretching south toward Greece, empty and waiting.