The Balkans continued - Day 4 - Kosovo in a Day!

As my eggs hit the pan, I had to shut the door to the Hostel Kitchen. The lone woman at the reception was in her 5th month and already feeling pukish I think. It was a dinner of eggs over tinned Tuna, after all Albania was over. As I sat there and ate along, I couldn't stop thinking about what I need to do the next day. Through my Macedonian coffee post dinner, I was playing with the idea of taking a road trip in Kosovo. 

Pristina, the capital was only 2.5 hours away from Skopje. But it was not the mad capital I wanted to go to. The interiors and the town of Prizren was what I had read about and had even heard from my Tirana travel agent somedays back. The east of Macedonia which had to be dealt in the summer due to possible closed roads in the winter was a strike out for a day trip. So after some “what would be the price for a day” discussion with the reception, we reached a pick up time next day. In this way Kosovo made a wild card entry in the Balkan itinerary. 

At 0700 hrs on a - 3 deg morning, the driver entered the hostel. “Do you want some coffee”? I asked the driver, as I was getting ready to leave the hostel kitchen. He promptly replied “no”. This and the opposite of ‘no’ were the two words he used mostly through our next 12 hours on the road. In the beginning all my attempts at making a conversation with him were futile as he was struggling more with the crazy fog and a visibility, than he was struggling with his english. 

Through the years of traveling in countries where English is not the first language (all but New Zealand), I learnt very quickly that rather than them it is me who needs to speak their language in order to have a basic communication. Still, I have to be honest and say that it does get irritating at times when you are not alone and have a group of people waiting for a proper reply. On that foggy winter morning, however it didn't matter, as I was without my tourists, so it was all good. 

Kosovo has a very dark past. First, it was in the joint Yugoslavia and even then 90 % of the population was Albanian. When Slovenia, Croatia and even Bosnia gained their independence from ex Yugoslavia, but more to say, from Serbia, Kosovo kept being watched over closely by its strong neighbour, Serbia. After Serbia let Montenegro go on brotherly grounds(both are orthodox catholics), it was Kosovo’s turn to declare itself free. The result, bombing and mass genocide of villages in Kosovo by the Serbian army. The Serbians I have met in my travels don't fully agree, but it is only after NATO bombed Belgrade, did Serbia withdraw its army from Kosovo. With that came also the mass exodus of the 15% orthodox catholic population to either orthodox Macedonia, Serbia or Montenegro. 

The Bombed building from the war and the poster asking European Union to take notice

Its not some 100 yr old text book thing, it happened less than 10 years ago and so the wounds are fresh. They can be felt in a different way in Kosovo than in Bosnia, where it was worst coz a neighbour killed a neighbour. I was expecting real poverty as I stamped my passport and entered Kosovo. What I saw was a major industrial zone instead. Automobiles and everything related to it. I guess it were the taxes or something in this youngest country in Europe that had turned it into an industrial hot spot of the south east. As we drove through the countryside and to Prizren, I noticed more and more cars with Swiss number plates. In towns there were Pizza places called, ‘Norway Pizza’. Refugees of Syria are in news now, in the late 90’s however there were the other kind of refugees, The Balkan refugees. I looked out of the window and thought, ‘what has changed since’?

Prizren, Kosovo, on a cold winter day ..

The winter fog spread over Prizren, and through it pierced the minaret of the central mosque, screaming the muslim roots of the town. It was below freezing when I got out of the car and in the first 10 mins decided that Prizren would be a stop over for lunch in the itinerary and not maybe a place to spend a night.  It had a old town with cobbled stone streets and cafes lined up to serve the summer visitors, but the charm was missing.  The air was getting colder and I was ready to leave and proceed to my next stop, an orthodox monastery in the middle of a muslim land. 

UNPROFOR is a short form of United Nations Protection Force and never in Kosovo is its presence more felt than in town of Decan, which is ethnically muslim. It was also here that I saw statues of soldiers who had laid their lives fighting for Kosovo’s liberation and the Albanian flag was always there to give company. 

Some 2 kms from the town is the monastery where twenty orthodox catholic monks go quietly about their business of growing grapes and making a top quality red wine. The abundant green in the compound makes for some of the best goats milk cheese you can taste. 

The Decani Orthodox Monastery

The monastery was particularly special for my orthodox catholic driver who for the first time said more than yes and no. “This place, i want to come”, he said as he parked his car. The road to the monastery was heavily guarded as the last attack by the locals happened just 5 years ago with a few hand grenades being whirled inside the compound. I was told to give my ID at the check point by an Austrian young officer who was busy biting into his ham sandwich. With a ‘Visitors’ tag handed over to us, both me and the driver entered into a different world, right in the middle of muslim Kosovo. A young man showed us around and even spoke to the driver about the place. The driver had the face of ‘oh ya, I discovered something new’. I had to buy a bottle of red and a nice yellow goat cheese before getting back in the car. The place felt, I don’t know how to say, just special!!

Just 15 kms from the monastery was Pec (pronounced as pech) in Serbian and PeYa in Albanian. and as it is with all the town sign’s on the road, the cyrillic serbian letters were blackened by the locals, which announced that we were entering Peya. 

The temperature had dropped to - 5 and it was really chilly when I decided to take a random walk in the old town. The town reminded me of Sarajevo in Bosnia, after all it was the Ottomans who ruled this land for 400 years. The highlight of the walk was a stop at a local kebab place. I avoided a few Kebab places on my walk, but when the chill got to my bones, i simply walked in the next food joint and what a joint it turned out to be. The menu was priced in cents and the food was certainly worth more than the 2 euro 50 cent bill I payed. The warmth with which the four guys at the grill served the meat, made this place all the more a ‘no fuss eatery’. 

Both Albania and The Blue Mosque in Istanbul visible in everyday life in Kosovo

The batteries of my watch had given up on me but it was more than just that which I got from the local watch shop. “Why dont you stay here, you should know this place before you get your people here”, said the son of the watch maker. I know if I said yes, he would take me to his house. :-)

Those were the last words I heard from a local before I quickly skipped through the capital Pristina on my way back to Skopje. 

Kosovo is special .. not too pretty just special. “I drive to Tirana in 5 hours and pick up from Shereton” the driver said as he dropped me to my hostel. He had got his english tongue magically from somewhere, but I guess it was for his next pick up. 

As for me I had got the taste of Kosovo in a day. 

The Balkan's continued - Day 3 - Crossing from Albania to Macedonia on foot (nearly)

After an evening with food, I wanted to eat something light for the morning, as I was 30 mins away from taking the bus. “It’s just 5 mins by taxi, the bus station” said the mother, as she got the big veggie omelette to my table. Later I would thank her around noon, silently, for not letting me leave on a bread and honey breakfast. I was heading to a town in the east of Albania from where I was told ‘a transport’ would be available to the border. I was waiting for a similar shout of ‘last stop’ from the conductor but he looked at me and said “Macedonia, Here”. The bus dropped me in the middle of an intersection well before the last stop. I think he just told someone on the road that I need to cross the border. I had to pee and as I asked for permission to enter a ‘closed for business’ cafe, the woman said “yes” and when I came out “Macedonia, wait”. The Albanian kindness continued. 

On the intersection again, a bystander approached me and said “Macedonia, come”. Not knowing where he was taking me my feet followed him hesitantly. I only picked up some pace when the same man to whom the conductor had spoken earlier and had gone missing since, appeared from nowhere and he too went “Macedonia, go”. Like two was better than one, I followed the man with the ‘come’ as he was seconded by ‘go’. The man turned out to be a driver who helped me with he luggage into the back of his van pulling out 2000 Likas from his wallet. 

It was a fare amount i thought for a lone passenger to be had for 40 kms. But like the bus from Tirana, this was a ‘mini bus’ to the border town and not some taxi that I could stop in between to take some picture. The road did get scenic as we left this dusty town and we enjoyed the company of an unused railway line and the river flowing completing the trio of modes of transport.  The van was soon filled with random people who were going to different places on the Albanian side of the border. 

As the vehicle scaled a new mountain road, the driver simply uttered the word ‘Macedonia’ with a finger pointing out to the border control. A nice wind made the flag of Macedonia flutter with grace,  on the other side of the Red with eagles Albanian Flag. It seemed that both the flags were in Sync, forgetting how their countries have always had a unsteady relationship. 

Sometime later I was told that if you wanted to cross the border from Russia into Norway, it was ok to enter Norway on foot but it was not allowed to cross Russia without your limbs stepping on at least a paddle if not an accelerator. Russian Cycles were being sold to or rented to refugees to cross over from Russia and they would just lie there in the no mans land as they preferred to walk to Norway. If I knew this at my border crossing from Albania to Macedonia, I would've certainly answered the call of the elderly taxi man while still in Albania. I missed the opportunity of crossing my first border on two feet, as I simply took the taxi into Macedonia. “A good deal to Ohrid” he had said. The long line of four wheels at the control and then seeing passerby’s actually crossing over by foot, made me kind of hate the ‘lets play it safe’ guy in me. 

It was another 40 kms drive to the town of Ohrid in Macedonia.  I never mentioned the Macedonian Border police being thrilled and a little doubtful at the fact of an Indian going into Macedonia from Albania. “So you will show Macedonia to Indians” were the first words that came with a smile from him, after the initial, “you go, Macedonia?!! Why?!” with raised eyebrows. 

I have to confess that I over expected from Ohrid. My friends in the neighbouring countries had spoken highly about it. The town to my shock was even touristy in winter. The lake was covered in the winter haze and the food over priced. I think it was the combination of the over expectation and the central street being crowded on a regular winter day that made me think, “what would this be in the season”. I had checked in but not pre paid at the hotel booking website, through which I had booked the hotel. Like in Berat I had gone for a walk after throwing my bag in the room and like Berat I had expected it would stretch to at least 2 - 3 hours. But, I was back in the hotel after a short 90 mins, in which the stale fish served to me over a wonderful bread and local butter ruled for 30 mins.

The only bright spot in Ohrid - Not even the Fish but the Bread. 

“I would like to pay”, came my words to the lady at the reception. “Well you could do it tomorrow when you leave” was reply. When I told her that I was leaving ‘now’, she couldn't hide the disappointment. “Did you have any problem with our hotel”, said the lady  and then I said something which I don't like if I come to think of it today. “No, its just Ohrid”

Without Ohrid, I was lost not knowing what can Macedonia hold for the 3 nights I had in my mind for the country, which was to be a major attraction in the Balkan itinerary. On the bus back to the nation’s capital Skopje, I was thinking, should I just take a bus to Kosovo on arrival. 

I ended up staying for two nights in Skopje, and thankfully I chose a hostel, where the woman made it her goal to make me fall in love with the country everyone talks about, Macedonia. 

Thanks to her and her talks about the east of Macedonia, I actually started to think of a possibility of not doing Slovenia and Croatia in the tour and entering and exiting through Greece to make it a more rustic tour. Keeping it more towards the east rather than a east to west tour. 

I know I would have to travel back to Macedonia to find what I did not in my first visit. I hope I find my Macedonia then. 

The Balkan's Continued - Albania - Ottoman Berat, Day 2.

I had read about the Hotel Mangalemi, before I passed it as i stood in the ‘Linar 1’ bus to the centre of Berat. More about Mangalemi later. The taxi from my hotel in Tirana, took me to a bus station where the only sign that it was a bus station was a information board showing the timings of busses. Without a single human being in a radius of 100 metres, and certainly no busses, the driver had to shout out to a couple of guys sitting in a cafe outside, which sounded like “hey fellows”, the guys never looked and were busy in their board game as vapour came out of their mouths with the morning crisp sunlight hitting their faces. “Hey, guys, where the F### is the bus to Berat going from”. I think the guys only replied coz they heard the F word. However in the next 10 mins, I found out that the directions were based on the F word and they were wrong. This time the driver was more like “excuse me” as he asked an elderly man on the road who was busy with a group discussion, and in return everyone around him replied but the man just smoked and smiled. At least they all pointed in the same direction! 

In a few minutes I was on a bus that had been tagged Berat. It was a cold winter morning and although I wanted to wait out, I chose to keep myself warm on my seat in the old coach. Outside, the guy who was the conductor, kept on with his Berat shouts, as each public bus came in with people wanting to go somewhere. This was my first bus journey in Albania and I didn't know how things worked here. Whether the bus leaves on the time it is supposed to, or it leaves when it feels full to the driver? With only 50 % of the seats taken and a mere 10 min delay (according to the scandinavian standards) we left the ‘hard to find’ bus station in Tirana. 

Within 15 minutes the apartment blocks started being replaced by country houses and most of them had the Albanian flag on them. The blood red and on it two eagles facing to their sides would be a common sight, I would come to know, even in Kosovo. With only 80 kms to cover I soon understood why the bus was to take 2.5 hours to touch Berat. People, they kept on getting in, and for some reason like my travels in Bosnia and Serbia, baring the seat next to me, all the seats in the coach were taken. I have to say, that no matter how much I like my space, I did not understand why no one wants to sit next to me :-). ‘India’ was always an ‘Indiaaaaa’ when I replied to the locals when they asked me “so where from are you”. 

Unlike Serbia however the driver and conductor kept to the ‘no smoking’ norms in the vehicle and that was a relief.

The Ottoman Houses I was looking for ..

“You might even get back to Tirana in the night”, had said my travel agent in the morning. In the beginning I didn't consider that to be a possibility but when the conductor shouted ‘Berat, last stop’ I had been expecting something more than what I saw around me. Ottoman houses, white washed and idyllically placed on the hillside with a river running alongside was the image I was looking for. All I saw around me were apartment complexes in the of the dust that rising from the road. 

With both my hands on the stroller and my eyes still searching for Berat, Linar 1 pulled up in front of me. The people got in, and I did the same. In just about 5 minutes the river came in view and in another 2 came the houses on the hill. The apartment complexes were left behind and what was ahead of me was worth the Unesco World Heritage status. 

With not knowing where to get down, I just worked my way through the crowd as soon as I saw the ‘Mangalemi hotel’ on a cobblestone street leading up. I had read about it the earlier night in the lonely planet and I loved the first impression of this old Ottomon house, which only got better with the evening. The owner was kind enough to give me a Eu 15 price for the night for a very comfortable space dressed in wood. It was specially nice to see a decent space after spending the earlier night in what they call a ‘by the hour’ hotel in Tirana. 

The Stone Bridge 

I had only a couple of hours before night fall and so my shoes never came off in the room. It took me close to 3.5 hours of walking around the town which mostly involved hiking up the palace hill. At the end of it, I was happy to come back to the hotel and to reach a conclusion about Albania. 

What was supposed to be a lite bite at 5 pm, turned out to be a series of bites for the next 5 hours. The owner was a 28 yr old guy and was translating a very interesting conversation between me and his mother who was the hand behind my being glued to the wooden seat from 5 to 10 pm. The food .. what can I say!! She had a limited menu of 7 - 8 things and I tried them all. “She say’s she is very happy to see you eat, but seriously I never thought you could eat so much” said the son. “Even me” I said, with the walnut dessert still on my tongue. Maybe ‘no beer’ helped, or maybe it was just the idea of ‘Albania in a platter’ which the woman said I should go along with. The cosmetic beauty of Berat was wonderfully presented in the warmth of its people. A combination that always works to make a place welcoming. 

This is the way to serve a cold Rakija 

Berat was what I had wanted Albania to be and that night I slept in peace knowing I would come back to Berat again. 

The Balkan's Continued - Albania - Tirana, Day 1.

I always wanted to go to Sarajevo in Bosnia, don’t know since when, but I had the calling. So when the opportunity finally presented itself in the end of summer, which is the end of my touring season as well, I got on a bus from Zagreb and onto the other part of the Balkans, Bosnia and Herzegovina. 

Croatia and Slovenia were still the Balkans, but I would like to call them the European Balkans. It is only when you step on the soil in BiH (short for Bosnia Herzeg) do you really step in the Balkans, I believe. The reason for this intro being that in that travel time of summer, I never thought I would end up in the far east of the Balkans, in the middle of winter, that too in the same year. 

I dropped my first Scandinavia winter group and took a flight to Tirana. Albania, the name had no reaction from me a couple of years back. Then this year, it just became a part of the whole Balkan circuit, which contained Macedonia, Kosovo and Serbia as well, after doing Montenegro and Bosnia. This is a part of the ongoing research I am doing on planning an Ex Yugoslavia itinerary. It however became clear in the first 24 hours in Albania that it is a rightful choice over Serbia and therefore the name, Ex Yugoslavia had to be changed, to just ‘The Balkans’. The name is not important in planning an itinerary, the choice of places is all that matters. 

Today as I write, I realise that the planning of a tour of the Balkans, might be even more difficult than South America. The scale is not as huge as South America, but the distances are a lot if you consider traveling from Slovenia in the west to Macedonia in the east. This is what is challenging and makes the whole process of getting people here a responsible one. Responsible towards the Balkans and to promote the region in the Indian mind set where the most famous places can and will take a back seat and countries like Albania or Kosovo will come to the forefront. 

It feels good to plan an itinerary, knowing that nothing like this has been done before, not only from India but also by European or American tour companies, which mostly are stuck with familiar places like Dubrovnik in Croatia and Mostar in Bosnia. 

Very often in movies and in general, the image of Albania is very mafia like. Crime on the streets, poverty, is what I had heard loosely off. Since Albania was never on my to visit list, i did not even bother talking about it to my Balkan friends, which were mostly tour guides and drivers who themselves had never been this far east. Once, when I saw a tourist van with Japanese guests being checked at the SLO - CRO border, I asked my driver casually, “why are they being checked. they look like Japanese”, “Albania”, he said. “Albanian number plate”. 

Oh ya, I thought, the land of Mafias. 

The Central Sq. showing the communist painting

 In my first few hours in Tirana on a  + 2 deg night, wandering in the hip cafe district, I felt like laughing at my own oblivion about the country I was in. It felt like Zagreb on a weeknight (the weekends felt like Ibiza, in Zagreb). I kind of walked the whole of the Tirana centre in 2 hours and I noticed for the first time, an orthodox cathedral and a mosque being done up in the same christmas fervour. Its important to note here that none celebrate christmas. The orthodox celebrate it on the 7th Jan and the muslims, well!. In one view, the entire impression of Albania changed. Of course it also helped to hear “we in Albania, have only one problem, Economy, religion is open”.

The Church and the Mosque in the same light.

I was quiet pleased at the open ness of people. No women had a head scarf, even in the countryside. This was Albania, the land like any other in Europe and yet it felt different. 

I felt like traveling more in this country, but I was here on a job, the job to give 2 or 3 days maximum out of the 12, I had thought of giving the Balkans to Albania, having made the decision of actually including it in the tour. Albania didn't make my job any easier, as I had made up my mind in the next 24 hours that I need to give Albania more time. Berat, a town 120 kms to the south of Tirana, was greatly responsible for making me want to see more in Albania. To show the fellow Indians, what felt like being in the Balkans.