Disputed territory and nascent state
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Prishtina,
Serbia and Montenegro
Thursday, July 5, 2007
While running over potential itineraries a week or two ago, I hit on a bit of a whimsical idea. Since I was going to be passing so closely by, why not stop into Kosovo for a short spell and have a look around? Sure, Western governments give out the usual (overcautious) advisories about the potential dangers and unpredictability of travel there, but they do that for even perfectly safe places. Enough people I'd met on the road thus far had already been, or were at least planning to go on their own due to others' positive reports. Eh . . . sounds fine with me. Besides, what better opportunity is there to see a new state in the making, fits, starts, political disputes, ethnic conflicts and all.
So it wasn't on the agenda until very recently, but here I am in Prishtina, Kosovo - or perhaps Kosova, since that's what the Albanian majority calls the place. It's not a terribly pretty place, but it is an improvement on Skopje. Not that the architectural merit is much more considerable, but there's a unique and interesting buzz about the place. Like in Albania, the streets are filled with life, especially in the evening hour when it seems like every family in town is out strolling through the main boulevards of downtown. The cafe culture so common across the Balkans is no different here and nearly every corner hosts a pizzeria or fast food restaurant. The demographic trends stand out quite strikingly as well - little Albanian kids and teenagers dominate the town. Women in veils are a frequent enough sight, but they're still well in the minority; like Albania, Kosovo is a fairly secular place for a nominally Muslim region.
I took the bus out of Skopje at 9:00 this morning. The border crossing hit almost exactly an hour later, and I woke up from my usual transport slumber right before the passport control officer got on the bus. Once the Macedonian side finished up, we proceeded to the UN-controlled Kosovo checkpoint. That's where things turned a little more interesting. The UN officer that came on had a glance at my passport, asked me if I worked in Kosovo, then inquired on the purpose of my visit. He next asked if it was ok if he stamped my passport. Not thinking it'd be a big deal - it's pretty standard procedure at borders, after all - I told him to go ahead. He added though that it might cause difficulties if I went to Serbia later, so we went for the stamped entry card route instead. After he descended then (with my passport), the bus pulled forward a little ways to the customs section, and the driver suddenly stood up and told everyone to get off.
Once off, we were told to grab our baggage and proceed on foot, through the office, out the door and up alongside the customs building to the gate beyond. No explanation why. Curiously, by doing so, we completely avoided having any sort of customs check, as we ended up waiting at the same gate that the bus had to later proceed through. Not having my passport with me and knowing that the driver had pulled some distance away from immigration proper, I was wondering if the bus might start off again before I could get it back. Fortunately, once the bus moved on up past the gate and we loaded up our baggage again, the driver had my passport - and a freshly stamped entry card - in his hand to give me.
Further down the road then, we pulled into a gas station along the highway. I thought maybe the driver had forgotten to fuel up. Nope. Instead he pulled up next to another bus parked there and told us all to get off again. We were going to switch buses! Eh? I went straight to the luggage storage, only to see my bag wasn't there anymore. Quickly moving around to the other side, I saw them already loading it into the neighboring bus. Suddenly a guy tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to find good ol' Joe standing there - the same Minnesotan that I'd crossed into Macedonia with. I was on my way into Kosovo and he was on his way out, by incredible coincidence at the exact same time, swapping those exact couple buses. Very odd.
I nearly got stiffed by a couple of greedy taxi drivers upon arrival here. The first guy I talked to referred me to another, then decided he was going to dictate the fare. I told him where I wanted to go and then checked the price just to cover my tail. Ten Euros. Eh?? In friggin' Kosovo. I acted flabbergasted and held my pack back for a bit. "It can't be that far away. I'll give you five," I tell him. "Seven," he answers. Again, I offer five and stand my ground. He gives in and I double-check to confirm it. Done, and we're off.
Of course, I wasn't at all convinced I still avoided getting ripped off. After getting to the guesthouse where I wanted to stay, I decided to ask what the going rate was. Three Euros in a metered taxi (whaddya know . . . mine didn't have one!). Oh well . . . close enough, I guess.
The place where I'm staying is, as far as I know, the only cheapie in a town overrun with (expense account-wielding) international organizations and NGOs. Funnily enough, it's exactly one Euro more a night than the shitty hostel I stayed in last night, and I get a private room with satellite TV and a cozy, adequately-sized bed for that! The guesthouse is managed and owned by a local professor, who's expanded over the past couple years from one building to two, each full of private single and double rooms. Obviously he's hit on a needy market and done well with it.
I spent most of the day looking around town, which really didn't amount to much more than seeing the life and activity about the place. "Sights," per se, are pretty thin on the ground. The city was heavily bombed in World War II and the Communist government didn't apparently put much priority on restoring the old character. There are a number of old mosques around, a ruined hammam (now under slow reconstruction) and then a sprinkling of historic houses here and there. The rest is mostly modern and not especially attractive, but it's primarily low-rise and enough newer construction has popped up to give it an interestingly chaotic and unpredictable feel. The traffic is less hectic than Tirana's, but probably a notch worse than Skopje's. The suburbs sprawl up and down the hills the city has grown up between and a good deal of it is still a work in progress. Construction projects line about every block and, while it's probably much better than it was, there are still a number of ruined buildings and empty lots around. All of it adds up to a city with a busy, interesting atmosphere, if not one with a great deal to see and do.
There are a few outer suburbs/villages that are predominantly Serb, though Prishtina is now almost wholly Albanian. I made it a point to hoof it back out to the bus station so I could get out to one of them: the small town of Gracanica about 13km to the southeast. The main point of interest here is a nicely-maintained Serbian Orthodox monastery dating from the 14th century. Thanks to the lovely relations between the Albanian and Serb communities, KFOR has to keep the place under armed guard 24/7. I had to introduce myself to the two Swedish KFOR soldiers stationed at the entrance, but from there I was able to just walk on in and have the place all to myself (apart from a pair of nuns). The interior, while pretty poorly lit, has some beautiful, original frescoes and the structure itself is a fine example of Byzantine-influenced medieval architecture. I certainly hope that if/when Kosovo gains its independence (likely the latter, given the way things are looking), the government makes it a priority to protect such fantastic pieces of history, instead of leaving them to rot or be destroyed by angry youths eager to pull a little more tit-for-tat. The same goes for the Serbian community - a diminishing minority that's understandably concerned about their future in a province that they've had a long history in. Politics here are a complicated and discouraging thing.
I spent a few minutes chatting with one of the Swedish guys after leaving the monastery. He confirmed basically what I imagined - being stationed in a small town in Kosovo like Gracanica isn't exactly a hell of a lot of fun. He said that he just had two weeks of vacation recently and he really wished it had lasted longer. Boredom seems to be part and parcel of a KFOR soldier's life in rural Kosovo.
I'm going to head down to Peja for the day tomorrow, a city that's a bit better endowed with interesting attractions than the capital. After that I'll have one more day in the region before it's time to head back towards Skopje and then up through Belgrade. So far it's a pretty interesting place here in Kosovo.
