theatre of the absurd: Kosovo, part I - Prishtina (i): the hostel, some of the local bars, and food

The bus from Skopje to Prishtina took less time than the one to Ohrid had done, but that is a thing in this part of the world, which is something unfathomable to me, the island dweller, so I took that all in stride.

I now have a very nice stamp in my passport from the Republic of Kosovo, so yay for that.

I was very pleased to be leaving boring, hot and dusty Macedonia behind and going to Kosovo, although some of my friends had done their best to talk me out of it, since most people's perception of Kosovo is a warzone. I'll admit now that that was about 80 percent of my own fascination of Kosovo; I grew up watching the BBC coverage of first the Yugoslav wars and then the Kosovan war, which in a way was an extension of the Yu wars in the 1990s. This was something that was in the backdrop of my childhood in the UK, and it intrigued me; I had no idea at all what to expect from Kosovo. I thought it might be a poorer version of Macedonia, or something like Bosnia; I knew that Kosovo was one of those Ottoman enclaves and that the population was 98 percent Muslim. I knew that there was still something of an American presence there and that it was filled with UN peace corps, and also that it was one of the few eastern European countries where corruption was non existent, due to the presence of the UN and NATO. I also know quite a lot of Bosnians, Montengrins, Croats and Serbs quite well, and they were all very clear on their feelings towards Kosovo and the people who lived there. This was also something that interested me; during my time there, not one Kosovar I encountered referred to themselves as Kosovar, but rather identified as Albanian; and in every town square, the red and black flag of Albania flew next to the blue and yellow of Kosovo.

Bill Clinton statue

I got off the bus and began the 40 min walk towards city centre. I have no idea why the bus terminal is situated so far away but that's just how things are sometimes. I liked Prishtina more and more as I neared the city centre. It was far more alive than Macedonia ever had been, although like Macedonia and every single other Balkan nation, it suffered from a massive shortage of people in their prime, people my age. Everyone there seemed to be either very young or very old, and there is something bizarre about countries which have lost the main virility of their population; a strange tension in the atmosphere, if you will. Apparently most Kosovars my age go to Germany on Albanian passports, since the Kosovar passport isn't recognised by most countries.

View of the city centre from the hostel

What surprised me the most about Prishtina was how clean and well laid out it was; I could see UN and American money almost everywhere. Macedonia was decaying and falling apart since no wars had ravaged its soil enough for Western intervention; but Kosovo was a Western protectorate state, and therefore benefitted from the money and care that was put into it thanks to NATO and the UN. Which, to the casual traveller passing through, made for a much more comfortable travelling experience. At least I didn't find myself tripping over broken roads every three seconds.

The next thing I liked a lot about Prishtina was the absolutely amazing hostel I stayed at. Prishtina attracts a certain type of traveller, the best sort, really: people who are open minded and easy to talk to. I met loads of good people here, had transcendental conversations that lasted all night, the sort of convos where you're loth to go to sleep even when you look at your phone and realise oh no it's 5am already; and I recommended other travellers I met in latter cities to come here as well, and they all enjoyed it just as much as I did.

I want to leave some more stuff for later entries so will leave you here with the photos. To be continued.