So it was a very long bus from Podgorica to Prishtina and of course I got some sleep, but perhaps not as much as I had thought and so maybe I was hallucinating a little upon arrival. I did have a ‘HOLY CRAP I AM IN KOSOVO’ moment as well upon arrival.
Well probably not. But there were many signs that pointed to my hallucinating. In the middle of the night, as it was an overnight bus, there was a broken down bus on the side of the road and a good 20 guys got on our bus. They were all very familiar with each other and so I figured they were some sort of club or something (turns out they were nothing all that interesting, a construction crew headed to a new job site). But it was sort of surreal to suddenly have a fairly full bus. I somehow managed to keep my two seats to myself for about 90% of the journey without even having to glare at anyone.
Pulling into Prishtina was like turning up in Bizarro world. The entire city was sort of blanketed in a butterscotch colored mist making it all seem otherworldly. I was approached by someone who spoke English and turned out to be Aleksandr, a Ukrainian dude that lives in New York for some length of time (and has a US passport). He asked if I was going to the Guesthouse Velania, which I was planning on doing so I said yes, figuring the company on the walk wouldn’t be so bad…
First off, I don’t have a compass with me. In fact the only map I had of Prishtina was the piss poor and highly inaccurate one from Lonely Planet 2005. And yet, I still managed to navigate the way better than dude with the compass and a more up-to-date map. So, give up some props to the innate sense of direction!
So we arrive at the top of a very long and unpleasant hill as I had my full pack which, while being light, is not something one wants to lug uphill for 20-30 minutes. Upon arrival the hostel reception dude didn’t quite speak English. Of course he had been sleeping as it was just 8am. But even then I would have thought that they’d employ someone with a firm grasp of the nearly universal travel language…if he had it I think Morbius had stolen it from him just before we woke him. After some hand gesturing and broken sentences we manage to figure out that checkout is noon and that we should return at 1pm but we’re free to leave our bags there. So we did and headed down into town.
A couple of short macchiatos later we found a quicker way down the hill and into the center and began to explore. Now to say that Prishtina is not the hub of tourist attractions would be an understatement. I would actually go so far as to say there are pretty much NO tourist sites to see there. But that wouldn’t be fair to the city at all as I did manage to find lots of things to take photos of, but of course that’s my nature as I did the same thing in Podgorica as well which wasn’t supposed to have anything cool.
So I dragged Aleksie to and fro and up and down and pretty much all around town and snapped photos, stuck my nose into things and generally let that old innate sense of direction drag me about for several hours. Finally it was time to climb back up the hill and talk to the professor so we could check-in.
Since I didn’t have a reservation and Aleks had one for a 2 bed room to himself we paired up and I took the other bed off his hands, saving us each 3 Euro in the process. Of course I threw that money at laundry because I was down to swimming trunks. I promptly then took a shower and a nap, both of which were sorely needed (exciting stuff hey?).
After I woke up I thought I might do some work. So I did…more excitement, I know. Wandering about the guesthouse, for it’s not a proper hostel by any stretch of the word, led me to some interesting encounters. First off there was Charles the French guy who was traveling after being in Albania for the elections as he’s doing a news internship. That led me to meet Visar the highly mobile Montenegran real estate speculator. I’ll get back to these two as they’ll show up later in the story.
I also met two Italians wearing suits that were no younger than say 60. Finally, when I went down to the kitchen to make a quick grilled cheese sandwich and slice up a tomato I met Crazy Dude. He didn’t speak English, so we communicated in a crazy mix of Italian, Spanish, Serbian, Czech, Slovak. He was constantly talking about death, the mafia and all sorts of other things that I didn’t really understand but which did not sound pleasant. He was missing a top and bottom tooth which created a strange vertical break in his smile giving him an even more sinister air. So I ate my sandwich quickly, nodded pleasantly, tried to interject some positive statements into the conversation and then departed with haste.
Later, Charles and Visar were going to get a Guinness, so I thought I would tag along. As luck would have it, the Dubliner Pub was out of Guinness that day (DOH!!) so we sat and drank Peja, the local Kosovian brew. Horrible from a bottle, not so bad on tap. We chatted about all manner of things and the waitress tried to abscond with my Guinness shirt while giving nothing in return. I had, logically, stated that if I were to give her MY shirt she needed to give me HERS. She said it was too small and I’d be cold…of course I didn’t give a rat’s ass about WEARING the shirt…I had thought that abundantly clear, but I guess not.
Eventually it was time to depart the pub as we had all had our fill and were a bit peckish. So Visar, ever the jovial guide, took us round the corner to a great Burek place where we scarfed up some food and then headed back to said guesthouse for the night. I got into bed about 2.45 which will be important shortly.
Before I continue the story I want to give you some necessary information about Guesthouse Velania. It is in fact more than a 10 minute walk from the center of town, on top of a hill, in a residential neighborhood and it’s fucking hard to find. the towels stank of mildew, the staff were fairly friendly (even if they didn’t speak English), the laundry was not free (I was only staying one night though), there was no wi-Fi (dammit!) and his Internet connection was like dial-up broadband which meant I couldn’t plug in my laptop and use it (Double Dammit!). The Professor was in fact quite cool, the room was small but comfortable and the bed was fantastic. Plus there was satellite television so I watched some crap while I did some work and sluffed about.
Around 8am, yes…as I said ‘shortly,’ an abundance of noise began to emanate from the other side of the room. When I say other side, I really mean about a meter from my head. It seems that Bizarro Ukrainian decided that it was late enough to completely unpack his bag (which was filled with those plastic vacuum bags that make a fuckload of noise. Yes, a fuckload.) and repack it. After about an hour of ignoring it enough to fall asleep only to be re-awakened two minutes later I had had enough and swiftly sat up in bed.
“Oh did I wake you?” came the question from Bizarro Ukrainian.
“No, not at all” was my facetious remark that was unfortunately far too cleverly disguised for him to realize that I was in fact being facetious as he replied with “Oh, good.”
Then he promptly began to play 20 questions with me – What time did I get in? How was the night? Did I get a Guinness? What time was I leaving? Blah blah Blah blah…I had to physically remove myself from the room for fear that I would defenestrate him in hopes that he could not fly. Even after I returned from doing the daily deeds he had yet more questions which I attempted to ignore as best as I could to no avail. Finally the question came:
Are you going to Skopje at 10.30? Do you want to share a taxi?
I most certainly did not even though I had wanted to go to Skopje at 10.30. So I said “Well it’s just after 9 and I need to have some coffee and finish packing my bag. I just don’t think I’ll be ready in time.”
“Well with a taxi it’s only like 15 minutes to the bus station.”
“Yes, but I need A LOT of coffee,” was my attempt to make him stop asking me questions. When that failed I simply said “I’m taking the 14.30 bus so have a safe trip and good luck!”
So he left….me in peace finally. I had contemplated crawling back into bed for a quick nap but since I was up and ready I figured I’d just check out and go to town. Which I did. I then proceeded to sit about in a cafe on the main street for 2 hours and read while I sipped two very small espresso…wow I’m really getting the hang of being a Balkanite, Balkonian, Balkananian.
After that I simply couldn’t sit still anymore and decided that there had to in fact be more things to see in Prishtina…so I went exploring. Again using my innate sense of direction I spied a landmark from afar which I knew to be none-too-distant from the bus station and proceeded to leisurely wander my way toward it.
Along the way, I saw some really interesting things of which I snapped a good 25 photos. Unfortunately at present my Picasa account is chocked full and I can’t upload them until I upgrade the account.
So I made my way to the bus station, after having a very nice Hamburger at a place called Friends where the staff were indeed friendly. Hop on the bus, get settled in, take a nap, read a little and then the bus dies…yes…dies on the side of the road. Along the way a mini-bus picks up the ‘women and children’ for the most part and the rest of us limp along as they attempt to keep the bus running. Eventually it gives up the ghost and we get booked onto a passing bus. I say we because I had met a new pal, Kalle (see Facebook friend’s list) from Finland and we exchanged travel info and I gave him the scoop on the places he was going because I had just been (Haris, Majda, Bata, Marijana…you should be seeing him in the next week if all goes as he was planning. He gave me the low-down on Skopje. I had some interesting ideas about the transmission of travel information from person to person which I am certain I could write a very interesting study about. Word of mouth is king as far as I’m concerned.
Well he was heading back to Skopje to grab his gear and head for Belgrade…poor guy, I hope they don’t mess with his passport because of the Kosovo stamps. Anyway, his gear was stored at Art Hostel here in Skopje so we took a taxi and I got a bed while he got sorted and ready to go…
Just before I headed into town (which will be another blog entry) I had stated “Gee, I hope Bizarro Ukranian isn’t here,” wished him good luck and safe travels and headed into Skopje proper.
And that my friends, is an entirely new story. Especially because this one has stretched a full 2000 words. Well, just now anyway.
Mhaırı
Kalle
ChrisRick