Today I began a mini journey in search of Syri i Ciklopit — The Eye of the Cyclops — a mystical natural swimming hole near the mountain village of Krrabë, Albania. Known for its deep sapphire glow and near-perfect circular shape, this hidden gem resembles the mythical Cyclops’ single eye. But while the destination is magical, the adventure to get there was just as unforgettable.

When Google Maps Fails, Trust the Locals

We assumed it’d be simple — just plug the spot into Google Maps and go. But as any real traveler knows, nature keeps its secrets well. GPS wasn’t leading us to the right road. We ended up driving along a dirt trail that wound up the mountain when we spotted an old man walking down, his hands carrying a bag of plums and his face wrapped in a cloud of dust kicked up by our tires and wind.

I turned to my friend and suggested we give him a lift, not just to help him, but because locals always know. They are the true navigation system.

As we drove, he pointed us toward the right path and told us exactly where to go. During the ride, he asked where I was from. I told him — Hoti, Montenegro. His face lit up. Not many from Hoti remain in the village anymore; most have scattered abroad. He then began to open up about history — the Plav-Gusinje massacres of 1912–1913, the forced conversions, the suppression of Albanian identity. Hearing it from someone who is living in Albania and lived through that time knowing the consequences touched my soul. It wasn’t just directions he gave me it was a piece of my heritage.

We dropped him off where the bus passes, hugged like old friends, and continued on our path. The goodbye lasted about 20 minutes. We Albanians are famous for our long goodbyes because we start another conversation at every moment. Inside the house, at the door exiting, and then at your car haha!

Olive Trees, Mountain Locals, and the Trail to Paradise

Following his directions, we parked beneath sage green olive trees just as he had told us. We continued on foot, passing villagers tending to their stone homes and animals. The views were epic — mountains rising like giants and horses grazing lazily in the distance.

Eventually, a handmade sign marked the path to Syri i Ciklopit. We followed it, practically dancing with excitement. Laughter echoed as we got closer, along with the calming sound of rushing water. Then, there it was — a glowing blue pool, carved into stone, tucked into the earth like a secret.

Swimming in a Hidden Jewel

There were only three other people there — fellow adventurers from Tirana. They quickly became friends, guiding us on how to climb the cliffs and where to jump from for the most epic splash. We shared our food, jokes, and wild joy like we’d known each other forever. Even the frogs joined the party — dozens of them bouncing around like tiny, curious spirits.

Eventually, our new friends left, and we were alone in paradise. Just the breeze, the water, and us. Peaceful, quiet, sacred. It’s one of those places you almost don’t want to share — not to gatekeep, but because it feels like yours once you’ve found it.

Hospitality That Stays With You

As the sun began to dip behind the peaks, we made our way back. Passing the same homes as earlier, an elderly man waved us down. He and his wife invited us in for water and fruit — figs, grapes, and a bit of chocolate from their land.

They put on some muzikë popullore, and we talked like old friends — about life, travel, and where we came from. Albanians love to ask questions, and I love that about us. It’s how we connect. It’s how we say, “I see you.”

Before leaving, we discreetly placed some money as a thank-you gift for their kindness and generosity.

Leaving Full — In Every Way

With our hearts full, our bellies satisfied, and our bodies refreshed, we slid back into the car. The rustling of the olive leaves above us whispered a farewell as the sky turned golden.

This wasn’t just a hike or a swim. It was a journey of connection — to people, to place, and to memory.

Some places find you. Syri i Ciklopit was one of them.