Albanian Aquadrom (#755)

13 September 2025 - Tiranë

After swimming the turquoise seas of the vibey beach paradise of Ksamil, where white-sand coves and clear waters rival anything in Greece, we wound our way along the rugged Albanian Riviera to Dhermi Beach, with the glittering Adriatic by day and beach bars pulsing by night (a little too loud for our ears for a good night's sleep as Albanians seem to love a strong bass beat). Leaving the coast behind, we drove inland to the UNESCO-protected town of Berat, "The City of a Thousand Windows," all Ottoman stone houses and medieval bridges spanning the Osum River.

Finally, we closed the trip out with three days in Tiranë, the capital of the country, a metro population of about 800,000 people, an eminently walkable and safe city that hums with a mix of café culture, socialist-era relics, and a youthful energy.

While Albania’s coast delivered spectacular seas in which to swim, there was no public pool infrastructure, only small hotel offerings. So, it felt fitting that my first (& only) Albanian pool swim—and my 755th pool overall in my 1001 Pools quest—would come in the capital at the country’s most historic and massive aquatic complex, known variously as the Kompleksi Aquadrom and the Tiranë Aqua Park.

A Communist-Era Relic

From what I can deduce and, if I'm to trust ChatGPT's "reading" of the Albanian-language internet, Kompleksi Aquadrom was born in the mid-1980s, during the final years of Enver Hoxha’s communist regime. Records place its opening as part of a new “sports zone” by the Artificial Lake. Like most big civic projects of the time, it was designed collectively by a team at the state Institute of Studies and Projects. After communism fell, the complex passed into private hands — but its bones remain those of a socialist showpiece, with five different pools over extensive grounds.

That morning, I set out on foot from our accommodation just north of Tiranë’s Opera House and Skanderbeg Square, the symbolic heart of the 1990s revolution that toppled communism. The broad boulevards were shaded by trees and funky street art, the air humming with scooters, people of all ages and café chatter.

My first impression arriving at the Aqua Park?

Wally World.

Like Chevy Chase pulling into the deserted amusement park in National Lampoon’s Vacation, it was so eerily quiet, I half-expected an Albanian John Candy to step out and tell me, “Park’s closed.”

In truth, much of it was: the majority of the pools sat green and/or partially drained. But the 50-meter outdoor lap pool was mercifully open, and on that hot late morning time, it was just me and three older men cutting quiet laps.

One of them, a wiry 68-year-old, stopped me at the wall to ask—dead serious—if I had ever competed against Michael Phelps. For a moment, I let the flattery wash over me. He then told me he had swum here himself back in the communist era, when the Aquadrom was a showcase for state fitness. He shared a darker story too: the diving towers, now locked and abandoned, were closed forever after a man took a running leap off the highest platform, overshot the pool, and tragically killed himself.

The lap pool was a stark concrete shell, though fairly well-preserved. The starting blocks were unlike anything I’ve seen in 755 pools: square concrete pedestals topped with artificial turf, equal parts ingenious and bizarre.

The water, though, was clean and cool. As I logged my 2,250 meters, I could feel the ghosts of history all around me—the ambition of its communist builders, the post-1990s neglect, and the quiet pride of those who still come here to swim.

As I emerged from the chilly laps, drying off in the warm late summer sun, I couldn’t help but feel bittersweet: glad to have swum here, but also aware that I’m seeing Aquadrom on its last legs.

The good news? I won’t have to wait too long for change. In March 2025, the Municipality of Tiranë launched an international design competition to rehabilitate this facility, aiming to restore and reimagine this space as a year-round hub of sports, culture, and community life.  The announcement calls for contemporary innovations—not just in the pools, but in landscape, public space, and multi-use design.

I don't know if I'll ever make it back to Albania, but I'd like to. The people across our visit were warm, welcoming and striving to make their beautiful country more attractive to the world. I'd particularly love to come back here years from now to swim in gleaming renovated lanes, to see the diving towers re-launched, to see families and kids reclaiming the no-longer cracked terraces, and to reflect on how ambition, architecture and history intersected in the pool.