There are places that shout to be seen — and then there’s Prespa, where everything whispers. Where nature invites you in quietly, like a familiar dream you once had and almost forgot.
I returned to Prespa after a decade. I wasn’t just curious to see how things had changed — I went there to take part in the 2nd edition of the Kayak Festival.

But what struck me most was what hadn’t changed. The landscape, the rhythm of life, the wild beauty — all of it felt almost exactly as I left it. Untouched. Honest.
The entire view looked like a Van Gogh painting.

Dry golden grass swaying in the breeze, scattered villages hugging the shore, and the emerald waters of the lake holding it all like a mirror. And right there, rising from the lake like a mythical creature, is Maligrad Island — a place that truly defies description. It’s not just an island. It’s a small, wild kingdom. A natural zoo where crows and ravens scream in symphony, snakes sun themselves on rocks, and larks dance through the air. It’s also home to one of the most mystical corners of Albanian heritage: a 13th-century Byzantine church, the Saint Mary church carved into the rock. It stands there like a lady in the wilderness — elegant, sacred, forgotten and remembered all at once.
We visited the island by boat, a group of us brought together by the rhythm of paddles and shared curiosity. As the boat cut through the lake, Dalmatian pelicans joined us in a kind of wild ballet over the water.
Somewhere between the island and the eremitic churches carved into the lakeside rock, we were no longer just visitors — we were part of the painting.
Our boat floated quietly past the cliffs, where ancient sanctuaries slept in silence. These eremitic churches, hidden in stone and time, don’t announce themselves — they whisper.
They invite you to pause, to sit, to feel. There was no sound — only the rustle of wind, the call of birds, and the deep serenity that hung over the water like a prayer.

It was a moment made for meditation, for stillness, for remembering how to breathe slowly.
Prespa doesn’t just show you beauty — it lets you become part of it.
Prespa is diversity in a tiny space.
A place where you can hike the hills, swim in emerald water, kayak in the calm, and sit down to a meal that tastes like home. A place where the food is local and honest — especially the queen of the lake, “mrena” fish, grilled and served with vegetables and local wine.

During the festival, I met Elton and Aida, the couple behind this incredible initiative. Their dream? To turn Prespa into Albania’s main kayaking reference point — and maybe even an international training hub one day. It’s a vision rooted not in mass tourism, but in sustainability, authenticity, and community. And Prespa deserves that.
With its small villages, wild landscapes, and deep silence, it holds all the ingredients for a new kind of tourism — one that nourishes instead of consumes.

Here for all the curios travellers a sample itinerary:
Prespa Escape: 2 Days of Stillness, Nature, and Culture
Day 1 — Arrival & Lake Exploration
Arrive in Pustec and settle into a cozy guesthouse. Take a kayak or boat trip to Maligrad Island, where 13th-century churches sleep in stone, and wild crows and pelicans rule the sky.
Enjoy a lakeside lunch — taste the local mrena fish and sip wine from nearby vineyards. In the afternoon, walk the trails or hike the hills for breath-taking lake views. End the day with a slow, local dinner and the sounds of nature.
Day 2 — Sacred Corners & Soft Adventure
In the morning, explore the eremitic churches carved into the rocky lakeside — places of deep serenity, perfect for quiet reflection.
Optionally, join a birdwatching tour or head out for more kayaking, canoeing, or lakeside hikes. Pause often, breathe in the stillness, and let Prespa’s wild beauty settle in your soul.

✅ Best time to visit: Late spring, early autumn, or during the Kayak Festival.
✅ Perfect for: Nature lovers, slow travellers, adventurers, cultural explorers.
✅ Stay: Family-run inns or eco-guesthouses.
✅ Bring: Comfortable shoes, swimsuit, binoculars, and an open heart.

I left Prespa with the same feeling I arrived: as if I had stepped through a painting and
touched something timeless.