Vlorë in November: When Albanian Beach Dreams Meet Reality (And Why I Don't Regret It)

Sometimes the worst weather makes the best stories

The weather forecast mocked me from my phone screen: rain, rain, sun (maybe), rain, rain, more rain.

I was standing on Vlorë's seafront promenade in jeans and a rain jacket, watching enormous waves crash over the concrete barriers of the Adriatic Sea. This was supposed to be my week of 25-degree sunshine, beach lounging, and post-summer bliss in Albania's coastal gem.

Instead? 23 degrees, unpredictable storms, and the distinct feeling that I'd timed this trip spectacularly wrong.

But here's the thing about travel: sometimes the "mistakes" turn into the most authentic experiences. And Vlorë in the off-season? It showed me a side of Albania that the Instagram crowd will never see.

The Expectations vs. Reality Disaster

Let me set the scene properly. I booked my accommodation in Vlorë weeks in advance—maybe even two months ago—when I was sweating through 35-degree heat in Münster back in August. Beach town. September weather. Perfect timing, right?

Wrong.

I arrived to find a town transitioning rapidly from tourist season to whatever-comes-next season. The beach vendors were literally packing up their dodgems and attractions. The sun loungers sat abandoned in neat stacks. And the sky? The sky couldn't decide if it wanted to drown me or give me five minutes of hope before drowning me.

Standing on that promenade, watching the waves explode against the seafront as Italy sat somewhere invisible across the Adriatic, I had a choice: sulk in my apartment for a week, or embrace whatever version of Vlorë was willing to show itself.

I chose the latter. Obviously. Otherwise, this would be a very short and depressing blog post.

What Vlorë Actually Looks Like (When It's Not Instagram Perfect)

Here's what surprised me: even in terrible weather, Vlorë has a certain charm.

The promenade stretches for what felt like a good two kilometers—maybe more. Massive concrete blocks line the seafront (very Albanian, very communist-era aesthetic), but between them, you get these glimpses of the Adriatic that are genuinely beautiful. When the sun breaks through—and it does, in teasing five-minute intervals—the water turns this incredible blue-green.

The beach itself is wide and shallow. I watched a woman wade out so far she became a distant speck, and the water still looked waist-high at most. When the weather cooperates, I can absolutely see why people flock here. It's the kind of beach where families can relax without worrying about kids disappearing into deep water.

But let's be honest: it's not the cleanest beach I've ever seen. It's "perfectly acceptable," which in travel terms means "you won't get an infection, probably, but don't expect Maldives sand." The water looks fine for swimming. The sand is... sand. It does sand things.

What struck me most was how empty everything felt. In peak season, I imagine this place is packed—umbrellas covering every inch of sand, restaurants full, vendors hustling. In late September, heading into October? It's almost eerie. Deck chairs sit unused. Cafés have that "we're-still-technically-open-but-don't-expect-much" energy.

And you know what? I kind of loved it.

The National Independence Museum (That I Didn't Visit)

I stumbled across the National Independence Museum during one of my promenade walks. It's this imposing building with workers buzzing around it, clearly in the middle of renovations or upgrades.

The entrance fee? 300 lekë (about $3 USD).

I walked up to the door, peeked inside, and immediately thought: "Nope."

Look, I'm all for supporting local museums and learning about Albanian history. But this place was tiny. Like, you could probably see everything in fifteen minutes. For three dollars, that's not terrible, but it also didn't look particularly engaging from the entrance.

Maybe I'm jaded. Maybe I should have gone in. But standing there in my rain jacket, already damp from the weather, spending an hour in a small museum just didn't appeal.

The interesting part was the area around it. Workers were constructing what looked like outdoor basketball courts and public recreation spaces. The whole waterfront area seems to be undergoing a transformation—that post-communist Albanian development energy where they're trying to modernize infrastructure while maintaining... whatever aesthetic they're going for.

It's fascinating to watch, honestly. You can see the bones of what Vlorë wants to become: a more polished beach destination with better public spaces. Whether they'll pull it off remains to be seen.

The Moment I Said "Screw It" and Found a Sun Lounger

After walking the promenade for what felt like hours, dodging rain showers and watching ominous black clouds roll in from one direction while sun beamed down from another, I made an executive decision.

I found an abandoned sun lounger, cracked it open, and planted myself on the beach.

Would someone come charge me? Probably. Did I care? Not particularly. The few other beachgoers scattered across the sand had the same idea—we were all clinging to whatever brief sunshine appeared, making the most of a less-than-ideal situation.

And here's the surprising part: it was actually kind of nice.

The wind provided a pleasant breeze rather than an annoying gust. The shelter from the promenade structures blocked the worst of it. The water, while shallow, looked genuinely inviting (if you could ignore the temperature drop that autumn brings).

I sat there watching a handful of brave souls wade into the Adriatic, and I thought: "You know what? I get it now."

Vlorë isn't trying to be Santorini or the Amalfi Coast. It's not competing with Thailand's islands or Croatia's Dalmatian gems. It's just... Vlorë. A slightly rough-around-the-edges Albanian beach town that offers exactly what it promises: sea, sand, and whatever the weather decides to throw at you.

In perfect weather, with warm temperatures and clear skies, this place probably transforms into something genuinely lovely—affordable, uncrowded (compared to more famous destinations), and authentically Albanian.

In crap weather? It's still perfectly acceptable. And sometimes, "perfectly acceptable" is exactly what budget travel looks like.

The Investment Opportunity (For Those Thinking Long-Term)

Walking around Vlorë, I couldn't help but think about property investment.

I know, I know—that's not the romantic travel content you came here for. But hear me out.

This town is primed for development. The infrastructure is improving. The location—right on the Adriatic, with ferry connections to Italy—is solid. And crucially, it's still affordable compared to more established Mediterranean beach destinations.

If you wanted a beach town investment in Albania, Vlorë would be high on the list. Buy a small apartment now, rent it out during peak season (May through September), and watch as the town continues modernizing its waterfront and tourist facilities.

I'm not saying it's guaranteed money. Albania's property market has its quirks, and you'd need to do serious research. But the bones are there.

For me personally? I'm focused on finishing my house project first (scheduled for completion in 2024), but after that, I'm seriously considering buying a camper van and traveling Europe in it. The freedom, the flexibility, the ability to chase good weather instead of being locked into accommodation bookings made months in advance...

That's the dream. And standing in rainy Vlorë, committed to a week I'd already paid for, the camper van dream felt particularly appealing.

The Gear Reality Check

Quick aside: I brought my new Canon M50 to Vlorë specifically for weather like this.

My GoPro—which I love for perfect sunny conditions—absolutely fails in rain and wind. The audio becomes useless, the lens gets waterlogged, and the image quality drops dramatically.

The Canon, on the other hand, handles overcast conditions beautifully. Better dynamic range, better low-light performance, actual microphone options for wind reduction.

If you're a travel content creator (or aspiring to be one), invest in gear that handles bad weather. Because bad weather happens. A lot. And you can't just stop documenting your trip because the sky decided to be moody.

What There Actually Is to Do in Vlorë (Spoiler: Not Much)

Let me be brutally honest: Vlorë is not packed with activities.

You've got:

• The beach and promenade (main attraction)

• The National Independence Museum (if you're into that)

• Some cafés and restaurants along the waterfront

• A ferry terminal with connections to... somewhere (I never did find out where)

• Uh... more beach?

  
  

That's pretty much it.

There's no bustling old town to explore. No major historical sites beyond the museum. No vibrant nightlife scene (at least not that I discovered). It's a beach town through and through—a place where the main activity is supposed to be lounging by the sea.

Which is fine! Not every destination needs to be action-packed. Sometimes you want simplicity.

But if you're the type of traveler who needs constant stimulation and activities, Vlorë in the off-season might drive you slightly insane. Even in peak season, I suspect it's more about relaxation than adventure.

The Little Moments That Made It Worth It

Despite the weather, despite the lack of activities, despite the fact that I spent a fair amount of time just walking back and forth along the same promenade, Vlorë gave me something valuable: space to think.

There's something meditative about walking along an empty beach in imperfect weather. No crowds to navigate. No pressure to see and do everything. Just you, the sea, and whatever thoughts decide to surface.

I watched workers renovate public spaces and imagined what the town would look like in five years. I saw a beat-up van for sale and mentally calculated the cost of converting it into a camper. I observed the few other visitors—mostly Albanians, I think—who'd come for a beach break despite the conditions.

And I appreciated something that's easy to forget in the Instagram age: not every travel experience needs to be perfect to be worthwhile.

Would I Recommend Vlorë?

Here's my honest assessment:

Visit Vlorë if:

• You want an affordable Albanian beach experience

• You're traveling in peak season (May-September) when weather is reliable

• You appreciate rough-around-the-edges authenticity over polished tourism

• You're considering property investment in Albania

• You want a quiet, uncrowded beach town

• You're passing through and need a beach break

  
  

Skip Vlorë if:

• You're expecting pristine, world-class beaches

• You need lots of activities and entertainment

• You're traveling in shoulder/off season and weather matters to you

• You want picture-perfect Instagram content

• You prefer more developed tourist infrastructure

  
  

For me? I'm glad I came, even with the terrible timing. It wasn't the beach vacation I planned, but it was a real glimpse into what Albanian coastal life looks like when the tourists go home.

And sometimes, that's more interesting than paradise.

The Final Verdict

As I packed up my sun lounger (before anyone could come charge me for it) and headed back to my apartment on that first day, I made peace with the week ahead.

Would it rain? Yes. Would I get my sunny beach days? Probably not. Would I make the most of it anyway? Absolutely.

Because that's what budget travel—hell, that's what all travel—is really about. Adapting. Finding value in imperfection. Laughing at your own terrible timing and bad luck.

Vlorë in late September wasn't the trip I planned. But it was the trip I needed—a reminder that you don't need perfect conditions to have a worthwhile experience.

Just a sense of humor, a rain jacket, and the willingness to crack open a sun lounger even when the clouds look threatening.

Final rating: 6.5/10 (would be 8/10 in good weather)

Budget friendliness: 9/10

Off-season charm: 7/10

Instagram worthiness: 4/10

Real travel experience: 8/10

Have you been to Vlorë? Did you have better weather luck than me? Drop your experiences in the comments. And if you're planning an Albanian beach trip, for the love of god, check the seasonal weather patterns first.

Until next time, travelers. May your weather forecasts be more accurate than mine. 🌧️