When I first opened Tai Chi – TCM Wellness and Health Center here in Tirana, one of the first things that caught my attention was the name of the street — Rruga Astrit Sulejman Balluku. It’s a long name, melodic and unfamiliar to me at first, and I used to wonder who this person was. Every time I wrote down the address for a new client or looked up at the street sign, I felt a quiet curiosity. Streets carry stories, I thought — and this one, surely, must too.
At the beginning, I tried to look for information online, but it was not easy to find much. Later, through conversations over coffee, some of my Albanian friends told me that Astrit Sulejman Balluku was a trade-union leader in Tirana who lived during the country’s difficult years of transition after the fall of communism. He was killed in October 1998, at a time when Albania was facing unrest and political violence.
For someone who arrived in Tirana decades later, it’s hard to imagine what those days were like. My friends described a city filled with uncertainty — protests, fear, and the feeling that the future was not yet secure. It was a time when courage and loss often went hand in hand.
When I walk along this same street today, it feels like another world. The air hums with the sound of construction; cafés spill laughter onto the sidewalks; people talk about their children studying abroad, about tourism, about business, and about Albania’s European future. The transformation is visible everywhere — in the new buildings, in the energy of young people, and even in the small details of daily life.
Of course, not everything is perfect. Like every growing city, Tirana still faces challenges — traffic, rising prices, moments of impatience, and the fast rhythm that modern life brings. But beneath it all, there is a strong sense of movement and possibility. People care deeply about their city. They are proud of how far it has come, and they keep working toward something better.
For me, coming from China and living here for six years, Tirana has become more than just a place of work — it feels like a community. I walk to the market and see familiar faces, I hear greetings in three different languages, and I feel safe walking home even late in the evening. There is a quiet trust in everyday life that I appreciate very much.
Sometimes, as I stand outside our center and look at the sign that says Rruga Astrit Sulejman Balluku, I think about how time transforms pain into memory, and memory into meaning. This street, once named after a man who lost his life in troubled times, is now a place where people come to rest, heal, and find balance. That feels symbolic — as if the city itself is breathing more peacefully now.
When I talk to my Albanian friends about the past, they often say the same thing: “We have been through worse. Now we want to live better.” And I believe they are doing just that.
So whenever I see the evening light fall softly on this street — the children playing, the trees whispering, the city slowly calming down after a busy day — I think of how far Tirana has come. The journey from unrest to peace is not simple, but it is beautiful.
And perhaps, in our own quiet ways, each of us can take a moment to slow down, to breathe, and to appreciate the calm we now enjoy — both within ourselves and around us.
Hello!