An Ode to New York's Albanians: Two Letters from the Editors

Authors: Enri Lala and Valton Vuçitërna.

The following contributions were  drafted by Chief Editor Enri Lala and Deputy Chief Editor Valton Vuçitërna to mark the release of the first Arbanon Magazine physical issue. This debut publication will be launched at the annual Gjergj Kastrioti Skënderbeu Street Fair, which will be held in the heart of Bronx, New York on Sunday, May 3 from 12:00 PM to 6:00 PM. Enri and Valton’s letters are included at the outset and conclusion of the physical issue, respectively. Enri’s letter has been lightly edited here for correctness and clarity.

Arbanon Magazine is proud to announce that we will be present at the Fair for the first time in our history, where we will be offering several mementos and – most importantly – a few copies of the physical magazine on display.

We will initially be accepting orders for the publication at the Fair, to be promptly delivered. After this, we will expand purchase options online, at low shipping costs. Please stay tuned for follow-up announcements to receive a unique, curated reflection of Albanian-American life.

We want to sincerely thank the Street Fair organizers for making this unique gathering and our presence possible – notably Mary Camaj and Sarina Culaj for their  unswerving dedication. Last but certainly not least, we must recognize Andina Pepshi, our capable Creative Director, for leading the creation and publication of this issue. There is no question that this would not have been possible without her.

May it be the first of many.

Enri Lala

The Albanian-American experience in New York has, in my eyes, long stood in as stark a contrast to my own as possible. My family and I immigrated from Tirana to settle in Southern California when I was eleven. Here, we found a new home defined by innumerable opportunities, but not necessarily – yet, at least – a sizable, concentrated Albanian presence.

This is why my two expeditions to the eastern metropolis to date have remained so vivid. It is both joyous and revelatory to see, as much as possible through the eyes of friends who call the city home, a reality where the Albanian experience is a fact of life rather than an intoxicating anomaly.

My first trip in late 2024 was brief but enough to introduce me to some of the community’s leading and most promising characters. This Spring’s sequel allowed for much more depth, lasting the length of a workweek and set against the uncertain sun of late March. The time of year also carried immense symbolic value: on the personal end, March 25 marked ten years since my family and I arrived in the United States, one of those milestones which leave you no choice but to reflect on what has come so far – exhilarating triumphs and bitter losses alike. That same date also marks the birthday of Mit'hat Frashëri, one of the most important thinkers of the Albanian 20th century. Here, too, the connection to New York is unavoidable. Finding himself in exile and straining to build an anti-communist coalition movement following the entrenchment of that regime, he passed away in October 1949 at the Lexington Hotel in the heart of Manhattan. Just months prior, as we recently highlighted, he delivered a BBC address calling for Albanians to mount resistance against the regime, whose legitimacy he questions. The story of this era, which the communist monopoly on memory has sought to erase, cannot be understood without the enduring role of the diaspora, much of which was centered in New York.

Accompanied by a pair of good American friends, we began the week with a ferry to Liberty and Ellis Islands, poignantly topical to my thoughts at the time. At Ellis Island, that foremost symbol of the epopée that has brought millions to these shores, I found comfort and resonance in the portrait of an Arbëresh woman of plain yet pleasant features, pictured in 1905. The image of the unnamed traveller was among the first from the plenitude of cultures displayed in the corridors leading away from the Great Hall, where immigrants would undergo initial inspection and registration. Faced with the Hall’s somber expanse, broken only by the light streaming through the windows above, you cannot help but imagine the teeming life and vertiginous medley of emotions experienced by the newly arrived.

Indeed, the description accompanying the Arbëresh woman’s visage cites the photographer’s note that she wore “her native costume” and that “the island looked like a costume hall with the multicolored, many-styled national costumes.” This was a reminder that, though many of our stories trace themselves to the relatively recent aftermath of communist and ultranationalist regimes in the 1990s, the Albanian presence in America spans much further than this one significant chapter.

Of course, my interest was not limited to the past. Throughout the city, I saw evidence of confident and striving Albanian life. This is best encapsulated by the range of activities on a single day: March 26, a Thursday. Following a revealing tour of the United Nations Headquarters, my friends and I split paths: they to various attractions in Manhattan, I to the heart of the Bronx. Yet this was not just any sightseeing detour. Both Albania and Kosova were concurrently playing in the first-round qualifiers for the 2026 World Cup, the former against a familiar footballing foe in Poland and the latter against Slovakia.

At the suggestion of a local friend, I chose Prince Coffee House, which seemed to stand at the head of the culturally significant Arthur Avenue and just steps away from Gjergj Kastrioti Skënderbeu Way – a uniquely meaningful landmark to take in. This appeared to be a wise selection from the beginning, and not only because the heavily Albanian area surrounding the café was visibly more prosperous than sections of the Bronx I crossed to get there. At a more fundamental level, it likely meant much more to me, who has spent my college career following Albanian football matches from the isolation of a MacBook laptop, to share the experience with dozens of others.

And some experience it was. Indeed, it powerfully captured the complexities – some extending to, if I am allowed the expression, nearly schizophrenic extents – which define Albanian life. When I arrived at the café, they were showing football in two places: on a television indoors as well as on a much larger projector facing the crowd amassed on the sidewalk. Yet this was not, as you might expect, a simple accommodation of different viewing preferences – a quieter interior and a more passionate open-air feel. Rather, Kosova’s match was on display inside while the Albanian Kombëtare took up the projector.

The twin teams ended their first halves on different notes. Albania, having maintained a solid level of play and fended off any serious danger, seized its chance to take the lead in the 42nd minute. Kosova, on the other hand, found itself down 2-1. The tide began to shift in both matches once the players returned to the pitch. The Dardanians found themselves level again just minutes into the second half, while Poland’s sleeping giant Robert Lewandowski made Albanian fans take a deep gulp by equalizing with a header off a corner kick. It was in this section of the match when shouts of joy or exasperation – one could rarely distinguish between the two – from the café across the street or from inside Prince threw the crowd into disarray: further complicated by time delays, no one could immediately tell which of the two teams had scored or conceded. Before long, phones had come out, subtly streaming the other match to ensure against being caught unawares again.

The Albanian team, as if obliged to follow an old tradition, allowed the Poles to take the advantage and never recovered. Meanwhile Kosova’s talents continued deepening the lead to secure its presence in a historic second round of the World Cup qualifiers. The scene spoke of both the innate confusion that imperial forces of separation between borders and life in the diaspora have caused, as well as a strong sense of solidarity among the Albanian world in its entirety. The dream of an Albanian team gracing our homes in the USA this summer was dashed by Kosova’s narrow loss to Turkey, but there was no mistaking the sense of pride and faith in a promising future I witnessed that day.

The rest of the evening was set into motion by the binding ties of Albanian hospitality. A friend I caught some of the match with insisted we stop by the nearby original Çka Ka Qëllu location, the traditional restaurant opened in 2017 by a Kosova Albanian after his son pointed out that there was nowhere he could show his friends the cuisine. The conversation here was easy and fluid, aided by a friendly staff and determinedly oriented toward a future of possibilities. Yet it made it impossible to catch the second appointment of the night: at none other than the Manhattan Çka Ka Qëllu location, one of the two opened in the years since, with the other branch in Stamford, Connecticut.

Both the Bronx and Murray Hill locations are made up of much the same interior – elegant stone walls adorned with traditional instruments, cooking utensils and historical portraits overlooking warm, wooden-hued tables – reminiscent of the Illyrian Grill House in North London, which indicates a common conception of a comforting environment among the diaspora. Yet the demographics in the two locations were vastly different. Whereas in the Bronx the environment remained low-key and predominantly Albanian, this was far from the case in the latter. One could hear English fly back-and-forth across the dozens of bustling small tables, with guests of all ethnicities, most seemingly drawn from surrounding academic and professional institutions. For the first time in my life, I was in the numerical minority in an Albanian space. I was taken aback and not exactly certain how to feel in the moment, until a friend reminded me that this was one of very few places in the world where this phenomenon could be observed. There is no doubt that it represents something to be celebrated: the successful integration of Albanian culture into the broader fabric of New York society.

Our own table pleasantly complemented this dynamic. I sat on one end, reunited with my two American friends, evenly matched on the other with three of the brightest Albanian women in the community: Andina Pepshi, our Creative Director, along with Mary Camaj and Sarina Culaj, who have already made innumerable contributions to the Albanian cultural presence in New York. It was in this delightful exchange, running well up to the restaurant’s closing time, where the idea of our Magazine’s presence at the Gjergj Kastrioti Skënderbeu Fair took shape. Mary and Sarina, as leading organizers of the Fair, warmly extended an invitation we did not hesitate to embrace.

There is in my mind no more fitting place to launch the first physical issue of our beloved Magazine than at the center of Albanian-American life. The episodes I have recounted here are but a microcosm of a more universal truth: that the Albanians of New York carry on their shoulders a unique legacy, composed of stories old and ongoing, as well as a singular role in shaping this community's future. The restaurants, the Fair and the streets named after the best among us strongly indicate a positive direction.

Yet there is much more I hope to see. One day, the city should boast a leading Albanian academy, where both descendants of the eagle and New York families looking to provide their children a first-class education come together under one roof, roughly in the model of the Lycée Français network. All Albanian children should have immediate access to physical institutions connecting them with the essence of their culture; where the works of At Gjergj Fishta and Ismail Kadare become a factor of their reality. And, of course, the representation of Albanian voices in politics along with all segments of American society ought to enter a new stage. It is important, but not sufficient, to foster deep and genuine connections with existing representatives. Ever more, we should see our best and brightest contributing their talents to the American project in public office.

None of this is meant to undermine what has been accomplished thus far. Indeed, the Albanian factor added a deep emotional layer to my stay in America’s city; from warm, brief exchanges on the subway to the numerous signs of community institutions taking the shape they deserve. I cannot help but  hope that, little by little, we begin to see this reality expand westward to my beloved California. Until then, I remain ever touched, and ever grateful to those minds which have led the way, in New York and beyond.

This publication, in which you will find years of our heart and effort, is our modest gift to you. We hope you enjoy.

An Arbëresh woman pictured on Ellis Island in 1905. The photographer noted that the recent arrival donned “her native costume” on an “island [that] looked like a costume hall with the multicolored, many-styled national costumes.” The portrait is featured in the hallways of the Ellis Island National Museum of Immigration, where it was captured by the author on March 24, 2026.

Valton Vuçitërna

I came to Arbanon through a shared sense of purpose; when an old friend of mine, Enri Lala, recognized in my work the same drive that this Magazine was built upon.

The mission was simple — the Albanian ethnic community requires a digestible, trustworthy and lucid format to access their own historiographical, cultural, contemporary and linguistic experiences. Non-Albanians, too, ought to have access to a library of knowledge that brings forth the struggles and the beauties of the Albanian people into the collective consciousness, thus edifying them and uplifting the social position of the Albanians.

Your question may be, why? Why dedicate priceless energy and consistent willpower to build an entire media platform from the ground up, balancing such a task on a scale where the other end is occupied by educational demands and career aspirations?

It is because I love and cherish my people.

I am an unbroken chain of heredity. I am the continuation of my mother and my father, and their mothers and fathers. I am a part of a whole, the collective achievement and struggle of endless decades and centuries marred by atrocities and undaunted survival. I am not just a name or a degree, my accomplishments or what I own. I am my people, and my people are me.

As such, I feel it to be my responsibility to dedicate myself to the craft that Arbanon is built upon. It would be a shame not to use the skills refined over several years for the intellectual benefit of my compatriots, whom I see as the future of our ethnos.

I believe it is not enough to wear the flag on a gold chain or drown oneself in contemporary music sung in our language. Many have even mistakenly begun to conflate their ethnic identity with individual character and personality.

One must live and breathe the values of the Albanian identity. One must meticulously analyze and seek to comprehend the history of this people, to know what has delivered us to where we are. Blood and what we inherit is but one variable in the complex equation of the nation.

In Edith Durham's High Albania (1909), she brilliantly states: “[the Albanians] are strewn with the wreckage of dead Empires — past Powers — only the Albanian goes on for ever.” In this new Age of Information, collecting the knowledge of one's identity matters more than ever if we wish to maintain the veracity of Durham’s statement.

Arbanon has brought me clarity. It has been revealed to me what truly holds value in relation to national belonging, and that such a concept, ancient and true, is to be preserved through action and not just through passive association.

I would like to thank you for reading. It truly means the most to all of us involved in this project, not just to me. Our cause is not personal or individualistic. It was meant to end up pondered upon by your eyes.

Me nder qofsh.

The intersection of Adams Pl. and Gjergj Kastrioti Skënderbeu Way in the Belmont neighborhood of the Bronx, NYC, where the annual Fair named after the national hero is held. Photo captured by the author.

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Arbanon Magazine was started as a platform to thoughtfully bring to light major themes in Albanian history and current affairs, and provide commentary on the broader region and beyond. We seek to establish the role of the Albanian sphere in an increasingly connected world and serve as an information source which maintains its independence and integrity.