by My tour guide Jovana Markic picks up a glass of wine from a street table in Kotor Old Town and toasts it: “Abrum!“The table is unguarded and not tied to a particular restaurant, but people are happy to help themselves to free wine and food.” Jovana says that’s normal.
It is a welcome gesture for visitors coming to Kotor, on Montenegro’s Adriatic coast, for the masked carnival (February 3-25 this year). Abrum means “welcome” in the local dialect and comes from Ombra, Venetian for a glass of wine.
As we sip, costumed revelers and musicians stream through the narrow streets and gather in cobbled squares and in front of baroque churches. It’s reminiscent of Italy, but the air is flavored with different aromas, such as fresh pomegranate juice and earthy Turkish coffee. Jovana points to a stone lion above the city gates, the symbol of Venice. The lion holds an open book, meaning that Kotor was semi-autonomous under the Venetian Empire from 1420 to 1797, as were parts of the coast of Croatia, Albania and Montenegro.
During the day the parade is a riot of colors and sounds, but at night the animal heads seem a little otherworldly
Instead of joining Venice’s crowded and expensive Carnival this year, I came to see how its legacy lives on in these once fortified Balkan outposts. The most famous carnivals take place here in Kotor and in Rijeka in Croatia, but there are many others along the Adriatic coast. That includes a revived carnival in Shkodër, the Albanian city that produces thousands of masks for Venice.
The environment is rougher than in Venice. Kotor sits on a blue lagoon surrounded by the dramatic black mountains of Montenegro. The panorama is best viewed from a cable car that starts just outside the city and goes up to Lovćen’s highest peak. Venetian explorers first experienced the drama of Kotor from the sea when they sailed into Boka Bay in 1420. They returned to build ports, wall trading cities, cathedrals and fortresses.
They also held a Venice-inspired carnival to mark the end of winter. These had a mischievous bent and to this day the people of Kotor wear masks in satirical Italian Commedia dell’arte Style to parody personalities. If a politician has angered people this year, they will know about it come Carnival season, as the city goes to great lengths to build parade floats to convey their messages.
“Unfortunately, most of our politicians seem to have no understanding of hidden criticism,” says Jovana. “Most of them confuse attention with praise.” In 2022, at the end of the float parade, a doll of then Prime Minister Dritan Abazović was ceremoniously burned to drive out evil omens. Abazović posted a picture of his doll on social media along with a heartfelt thank you letter.
It’s all very Italian until the Albanian folk music kicks in and gets everyone dancing in circles
Venetian-style masks can be purchased at several costume shops in the city, including one next to the Historic Boutique Hotel Cattaro. The main masquerade ball and parade (February 23-25) begins with a feast of seafood and Montenegrin wines and culminates in a kaleidoscopic float parade and bonfire. To fill the tank before the evening’s festivities, head to Restaurant Galion or Konoba Galerija, known for their mixed seafood Buzara Sauce, a mixture of olive oil, wine, garlic and mild spices.
The Rijeka Carnival takes place along the coast of Croatia from January 17th to March 5th. Here, the Venetians’ constant fear of incursions by enemies from the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman Empires led the city administration to ban masks at Carnival, since they never knew who was behind them. However, the residents of Rijekan had a rebellious streak, so over the centuries the masked parties continued in secret groups.
Thanks to three groups from surrounding villages, the carnival took place again in 1982. One of them was this zvončari (bell ringers) who wore sheepskin and wielded bells and maces that were once used to symbolically ward off invasion. They donned masks, marched through the streets and drew a crowd. The success was so great that the carnival was officially revived.
Related: My Christmas pilgrimage in Mark Rothko’s Latvia
Now every year the mayor of Rijeka hands over the key to the city to the carnival master of ceremonies, who becomes the symbolic mayor of the celebrations. A carnival queen is chosen. The parade takes place on the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday and is a huge spectacle: 9,000 masquerades in 92 groups, each with their own decorated float, music and theatrical performances, parade through the streets from midday to evening.
Rijeka’s masks differ greatly from the Italian style: instead of feathers and sequins, the zvončari bear bizarre animal heads with horns, antlers and red tongues. Many are farmers who come from villages offering olive oil, cheese, wine and cured meats that visitors can sample at stalls. Some zvončarias the Grobnički dondolašiare shepherds who move around with huge rattles to protect livestock from wolves. During the day the parade is a riot of colors and sounds, but at night the animal heads take on an otherworldly, frightening appearance. It is closer to the pagan ritual of banishing winter.
The carnival, which most closely resembles a medieval Venetian masquerade ball, takes place March 20-22 in Shkodër, Albania. Although Shkodër passed from Venetian rule to the Ottoman Empire in the late 15th century, it somehow became a production center for carnival masks in the 1990s when Venice began outsourcing them due to increased demand.
One of these suppliers is Albanian artisan Edmond Angoni, who founded the Venice Art Mask Factory in 1996 and now produces more than 20,000 handmade masks per year. During my pre-Carnival visit, I discover all the Italian Commedia dell’arte figures hanging in the exhibition room. Artisans show me how to shape clay and papier-mâché before I layer exquisite patterns and feathers on top.
The masks are shipped to Venice, Rio and even Hollywood, and some remain in Shkodra, where a masked carnival has been held since the 1990s. It was grafted onto a local tradition (which had been banned during the communist era) in which characters named surretënit went from door to door dancing, singing and having fun and were rewarded with donuts and dried fruit.
Nowadays, Shkodër Carnival is organized by the Catholic Church. Revelers parade through the cobbled bazaar in medieval garb and a ball is held at the Hotel Tradita. It’s all very Italian until the Albanian folk music kicks in and gets everyone up and dancing in a circle. called fruit brandies Rakia Be swayed to a thumping Balkan rhythm as waiters weave through the revelers, holding up steaming stews and platters of meat.
Shkodër is blessed with a beautiful lake and before the festivities begin, I head to Hotel Balani’s lakeside bar and restaurant and watch the fishermen leisurely drifting and extending the lines to catch Shkodër’s carp. According to legend, carp was the only fish that Albanians liked to eat during the Venetian occupation because the locals were horrified by the Venetian habit of pumping sewage into the sea. They joked that anyone who ate saltwater fish was literally “kissing the ass” of the occupiers, turning the humble sea carp into a rich dish with dried plum peels and tomatoes Tava Krapi.
This is a key dish during the carnival season and shows that the Balkan towns on the Adriatic have not only emulated their previous colonizers to carnival, but have also imparted their own culture and festive spirit.
The trip was provided by Visit Montenegro and Albanian tripand organized by New Deal Europe
Other carnivals are Budva and Herzeg Novi. All carnivals in Montenegro hold reruns in August Visitors
