Pristina, Kosovo

I kind of knew that yesterday that my trip to Pristina in Kosovo was a bit of a box ticking exercise. I just held hopes that it would be worth a visit in its own right and would justify the effort. I have to be honest and say that aside from the fact I have added another country to my list it didn’t.

I left Skopje on the first bus at 0900, full of optimism and excitement of country number 41 on the horizon. After a hassle free ride I got to the bus station and having decided the guesthouse I had booked was out of walking distance I went over to a taxi company, avoiding the vicious guard dog that was foaming at the mouth and barking furiously in the car park.

I had pre booked the only guesthouse in Pristina, the Velhania which according to Lonely Planet was run by a jovial Professor of Engineering and “perfect for anyone missing the hostel atmosphere or their Granddad”. Intrigued by such a description I was looking forward to it. Even if this place was within walking distance I’d never have found it. I was checked in by two chain smoking middle aged women and shown to my room in another building. I had a triple room to myself in a building seemingly lacking other guests. I was let down on the hostel experience promised and time would prove me to be let down on LP’s other promise; I never did get to meet the Professor during my time there.

After walking into the city centre I soon realised there was very little here of interest, my quest to unearth some hidden gems would be a fruitless one. I went to the UNMIK (United Nations Mission in Kosovo) building and watched with fleeting interest the UN emblazoned cars coming and going but the novelty soon wore thin so I went off in search of a nice Mosque, The Carshi. Honestly, I walked past it twice as with the dirt and smashed windows I assumed it was derelict. The only thing that drew me to explore closer was the National Library, a peculiarly designed building. It looks like a badly designed set from the original Star Trek or a building covered in large eggs encased in wire mesh. Would love to know what the architect was smoking when he thought that was a good idea. Picture is at the start.

There was nothing else in Pristina for me to look for. The Bazaar area mentioned in LP I’d already inadvertently walked through it, I was quite disappointed. I just reminded myself that the main attraction was being in Kosovo itself. In the evening I indulged in some people watched along the main street during the Passagiata along Bulevard Nene Tereze (Mother Therese) and just took in the sense of national pride from the world’s newest nation. Maybe this is just imagined but the Kosovans are a fiercely proud people and it seemed evident to me.

It’s just a shame Pristina isn’t more of a tourist town and during dinner I took the decision to take the first bus back to Skopje and move on to Ohrid. This means an 0630 bus but there was nothing keeping me there a minute longer. Was happy to be there, but definitely not one of Europe’s gems.

Beni

My evening had an unexpected ending. A friend of mine on my nursing course, upon learning I planned to go to Macedonia, told me they had a friend here and would pass on my details to them. Having heard many “ I've got a friend there’ yarns I didn't think much of it. Anyway, shortly after posting the earlier entry I got a call from Beni, the ‘friend of a friend’. He said he’d be at my hostel in 10 minutes. I waited with intrigue outside when a brand spanking new Audi pulled up, sticking out like a sore thumb among all the 20 year old Yugos which seem to be the car of choice among people in this neighbourhood.

He asked if I’d eaten- I hadn’t- and so he took me to a expensive looking Italian restaurant, parking virtually on top of a busy intersection right outside the restaurant. I had a lovely pasta meal ( now wasn’t the time to be paying attention to my low carb diet) and had several beers. It was a nice evening and the conversation flowed nicely. I asked him about his work and he tentatively and vaguely said he worked for the government. When it was time to leave I said we should get the bill to which Beni said to me dismissively, “ Don’t worry about that...” and we returned to his Audi, parked conspicuously on this busy intersection with neither of us having paid a penny. On the way back he reiterated his desire to help me here in any way he can. I think that he, being of Kosovan parentage, was happy to hear of a foreigner making the effort to visit the country of his heritage. As we were sat in traffic he turned to me and asked, “Richard, have you ever held a gun?” I replied that I’d never even seen a gun in my life, let alone held one. (Those attached to the waists of policemen don’t count). He then opened up the glove box to reveal a loaded semi automatic hand gun, the real deal. He was careful to remove the magazine and then placed the gun in my hand. A weird surreal moment indeed. He said he carries it for ‘protection ‘when I asked if was something to do with his job. I gave him the gun back, he reloaded it and placed it carefully back in the glove box, at the same time pointing out a CB radio that he uses to listen in to police channels. I didn’t want to ask but I’m guessing there’s more to Beni than meets the eye.

Skopje First Impressions

I wasn’t expecting the capital of Macedonia to be stunning and to be honest it’s not. The research I did prior to coming here indicated that even Macedonians consider Ohrid in the south to be the jewel in the country’s crown. Keeping an open mind and determined to seek out the best of the city I left Shanti Hostel at 11 into the searing heat. Skopje’s lack of aesthetic charm isn’t entirely its own fault. It suffered a devastating earthquake in 1963, destroying virtually all the old buildings. If you consider that Marsal Tito, the then Communist leader of Yugoslavia replaced the former charms with ugly sprawling concrete masses with the aid of a Japanese architect then you’ll understand why a lot of the charm was lost. The Communists never were very much into pleasing architecture and their ugly influence is stamped all over this city.

Visually my first impressions were ruined by extensive renovations and bridge building works that are going on right in the centre of the city. The city’s focal point is the Stone Bridge which links the Orthodox south bank with the Muslim North and crosses the Vardar River right next to the National Theatre. I walked along the banks of the river toward the Stone Bridge but the eye sore that the building works have created have completely ruined the view and really have created an eyesore, with piles of gravel, tall cranes and scaffolding obliterating the view I had seen in travel sites at much as could be. The Stone Bridge is considered the symbol of Skopje and dates back to the 15^th century.

Even the huge statue of Alexander the Great at a square at the beginning of the main Boulevard Plostadi Makedonija couldn’t escape the scaffolding curse. I couldn’t help but wonder how nice it would look once all the work is completed. After having my shoes shined by an old guy along Plostadi Makedonija I stopped off at Bar Roma to test Lonely Planet’s claim that it has the best espresso in Skopje- if there’s better I’d like to know- and went to the City Museum. It’s housed in the old Railway which was destroyed in the 1963 earthquake and whose clock on the front eerily displays the time 5:17, the time the devastated earthquake struck. The museum was disappointing, just a bizarre art gallery and an odd display of Communist era furniture.

There wasn’t much to keep me in the new part of town and even though I was hoping to save the old Ottoman Quarter until tomorrow I decided to go there today via a stop at Soboren Hram Sveti Klimenti Ohridski, Skopje’s main orthodox cathedral. On the way a few welcome spots of rain fell.

After crossing the Stone Bridge and I got my first glimpse of the Ottoman Quarter I had the impression that for me, this old atmospheric part of the city IS Skopje. The sights and smells were quite atmospheric and not surprisingly reminded me of Sarajevo, although not as charming of course. It was a world away from the new part of town and I spent most of the afternoon walking through the markets and ambling along the cobbled streets. I bought a little waist bag from a seller where a language problem worked in my favour. I assumed they were 200 Dinar and asked the seller, to demonstrate the price he punched 100 into his phone.

I walked into a Mosque, with permission of course, and was approached by a man who spoke good English. He was a bus driver who told me a lot about the history of the Mosque. It was called the Ahmed Mosque and was apparently the oldest and one of the most significant in the city. The mosque was criminally overlooked by my error strewn Lonely Planet book that didn’t even deem it worthy of a mention. I went to another Mosque, the Sultan Murat which was in my book, gave an old man 60 Dinar for the privilege of letting me inside and looked around, it was quite plain inside and I thought the unmentioned Ahmed one was nicer. I like Mosques, especially when I’m lost. Find a mosque; look at what direction the men are praying towards and you’ve instantly found east. Clever eh?

Wilting a little from the heat I decided to head back to Shanti for a rest. May go out for a drink later but may well end up staying here. Have to say Skopje has its charms but you have to work hard for them.

Skopje

I arrived last night in the Macedonian capital Skopje. I flew over with the most unpunctual airline in the world, Wizzair, whose cabin crew's manners make Ryanair's look like Virgin Atlantic Upper Class...

Didn't see much last night as thanks to the aforementioned airline I was two hours later arriving. The hostel owner Peter picked me up as arranged from Alexander The Great airport and we rode back over the potholed surface Macedonia have deemed a motorway. I was quite alarmed when he spoke to me and I smelt something worrying, to use a Mike Reidism I suspected he'd been on the turps since lunchtime. After several late breaking moments and taking exits slightly too fast we got to the hostel , I was quite relieved. Hostel is great, typical Eastern European hostel. Clean, friendly and Peter has that essential mix of eccentricism and commitment.

I was a little late for breakfast this morning, when I came down I was told " only spinich and cheese are left". No one's ever said that to me at breakfast before!

More rain, butterflies and a moment of fame.

After staying at the bar for probably too long after a long day I was understandably exhausted and slept in for far longer than I had planned. It was gone 1100 before I left the hostel.

As it was still raining heavily and quite cold I decided to go Poznan Parmiarnia, a huge botanical garden and aquarium. I had a list of Poznan attractions to see, kindly supplied by Agnes' best friend Monica who is Polish and who's family come from Poznan This place was on her list so off I went. Also the thought of spending a few hours in tropical heat was quite appealing!

After some initial confusion with the trams; there seemed to be two number fives going in different directions I found the place and paid my 4zl to get in. I thought my PoznanCard which I had bought yesterday would get me in but it only got me a discount.

The place was very good indeed. Naturally I headed to the aquarium first and stopped by a carp feeding pond. Some of the carp were huge and there was a wide variety of carp in there and they were so used to human contact it was possible to stroke them, which I did obviously.

I walked around the very impressive aquarium looking at many different species of fish from over the world, they were all very well presented in large tanks with very clean glass that made viewing the fish very easy.

Agnes had texted me earlier to tell me about a live butterfly section so when I wandered into a room full of dead butterflies on display I thought maybe I had misunderstood something or they had changed the day or something. I was wrong and after she had text me the exact pavilion they were in I found them! Typical I thought, I couldn't find them despite being in the same building and Agnes 500 miles away knew what room they were in before I did!

The butterfly section was great, in a kind of air locked area to prevent them escaping and becoming food for the many kinds of animal that call this place home.

I had a butterfly land on my top and walk up to my head, I suspected it was a White Stripe from the Philippines and the sign proved me right...

I became aware of a man with a large camera taking photos of the butterflies then of the one that had chosen to land on me. He introduced himself as Peter, a journalist from the Gazeta Poznan newspaper. He asked me for my permission to put the photo in the newspaper and on the website! This made my day and I readily agreed. I had only been in town for just over a day and I'm in the paper already!

Having seen enough I left and took the tram back to the centre and to another Bar Mleczny. Totally bewildered again by the menu I resorted to a trick I have tried with success here. I stood looking as confused as possible at the menu trying to pick out things on the menu from the book. Of course I am really trying to make it look as obvious as possible that I need some help and for an kind english speaking person to offer some assistance. it worked a treat and I got a lovely chicken meal with bacon sauce for the usual bargain price.

After I'd eaten I headed to the Museum of The Wielkopolska Uprising of 1918-1919. A notable and crucial period in polish history as this victory, described by Jacob as one of the only Polish military victories in recent years, granted Poland additional territory and allowed the Polish state to be reborn.

I got to the museum at 1630, half an hour before it closed and had to really persuade the old lady to let me in. She wrote down 1700 on a piece of paper to which I pointed out that it was only 1630 and begrudgingly she let me in. She needn't have bothered to be honest as all the displays and interactive exhibits were in Polish only and I wizzed through the small museum in 20 minutes. Shame as I was looking forward to it.

I referred back to Monica's list and went in search of two traditional Polish restaurants. The first two on the main square were out of my league pricewise so I had a look at a Czech restaurant. This was was much more within my budget and I decided to return there later. Also on the list was 'an old communist style pub' called PRL. She had written " you'll like it" after the address, I suspect Agnes may have told her friend about my Cold War obsession! It was nice, typically dingy and dark and down a cellar. If you didn't know it was there you'd never know. It was great in there, not many people and I think I may go back one evening to check out the atmosphere when it's full.

After my very nice Czech meal with a very curious tasting beer- even after finishing the pint I still couldn't quite decide if I liked it or not- I went to the Blue Note Jazz Club for an" Irish Party" that Agnes had told me about. I didn't know quite what to expect but it turned out to be a huge screen playing various Irish singers and groups in concert. After nursing a beer and enjoying the atmosphere jumped on the last tram of the night back to the hostel.

Not sure what to do tomorrow but I have plenty of options, both within the city and some excursions so I'll decide in the morning. Time for bed now.

A gentle introduction to Poznan

Well here I am in Poznan on my last little solo jaunt around Eastern Europe slumming it in youth hostels before the serious work of being a student nurse begins in two weeks. My choice of Poznan raised a few eyebrows amongst a few but I had done my research and I thought it was well deserving of a few days of my time.

I had pre booked at the imaginatively named Very Berry Hostel. It seems to be a Polish practice of giving hostels seemingly non sensical names that seem very cheerful but do the crucial job of gaining your attention. This place was very close to the centre of town and was spotlessly clean and well designed inside with cheerful friendly staff willing to help with anything. I knew very soon I had made a good choice. I had to wait until 1330 to be free of my bags and to check in so once I had I just headed to the natural starting point and centre of the city, the Stary Rynek or Old Town Square. My first inital impressions of Poznan as I walked the 250m to the Rynek was not the wow factor of Gdansk or Krakow, which are quite simply in a league of their own, but that it is a very pretty town and charming in it's own right. I was determined not to compare it to more those well known cities and enjoy the city for all it is. One of it's charms for me is that it is clearly not on the major tourist route yet.

The Rynek is exceptionally pretty with old, albeit heavily restored townhouses lining and making up the square. Dominating the square is the Ratusz, the Town Hall. Running away from the Town Hall within the square is a beautiful row of old houses all of different colours. This was where traders have lived since the 16th century and are the oldest buildings in the square.

In the midst of this beauty lies two eyesores however. Two low concrete pavilions were built by the Soviets during Communist times and they really have no place in the square. One has become an important art gallery and the other houses an important museum but I feel no one would miss them if they were pulled down.

After meadering around the square I went for lunch in one of my favorite aspects of Polish life, the legendary Bar Mleczny or Milk Bars. Devised during Soviet times to feed the prelateriat when their place of work had no canteen, the tradition lives on even in these Capitalist times. They are very very cheap and offer good wholesome meals of traditional Polish cooking. The menus are baffling, nothing on the menu board corresponded with the menu reader in my Rough Guide, but I ended up with battered pork, mash, Strawberry milkshake and a coffee for under five quid.

In the evening I went to a sports bar recommended by my hostel to watch the Liverpool match on TV. The game was disappointing but the time in the bar was nice. I spent the evening chatting to the barman called Jacob and his friend Thomas. Jacob was a soon to be qualifed teacher and hoping to find work in the UK. When I learnt that even as a qualifed teacher in Poland he could only earn around 250 pounds a month here I can see why he wants to move to England.

Both Thomas and Jacob were full of interesting tourist advice, some I may take, some I won't but I enjoyed the evening and if at a loose end when here I will go back.

I walked back to Very Berry in the pouring rain more than a little pissed and content that I had a good first day.

Blog update

Decided to delete my previous post of annoying things as it was bollocks. Am working on something more positive and accurate...