Visiting the newborn Kosovo

From Belgrade I took a bus to Pristina in Kosovo, one of the newest countries in the world. There I went straight to the Irish Bar where I met my CouchSurfing host Johann from South Africa. Over a few beers (After a hot day in the bus I really needed a beer!) I met many interesting people, like Johann's friend, a down-to-earth helicopter pilot and another pilot, this one more of a "let's kill 'em all" type, waiting to get to Afghanistan. There was also a EULEX employee and an Irish barman at our table.

After my second night at the expat bars of Pristina I started to think that many of the foreigners live in their own bubble, way out of this world, without mixing with the locals. "They work here for three-four years and if you ask them how many locals they know, they say 'none'", commented Johann. He has lots to say about the situation of Kosovo and I've been all ears, trying to absorb all the information and trying to understand what is going on here. "So many mistakes have been made", he says.

According to my Lonely Planet guidebook "Pristina looks like a torn-apart town crudely reassembled by differences of opinion". Well, what can you expect of the capital of such a new country? A country that is not universally recognised and that is governed by three different authorities; EULEX, KFOR and the local government, without anyone knowing who's really in charge or carries the responsibility in the end. There's also a lot of corruption.

Above: The University Library in Pristina, which must be seen to be believed (think gelatinous eggs wearing armour). -Lonely Planet: Eastern Europe-

There is a bit of a chaotic feel to this place, although not in the same way as to some gigantic Asian cities full of people and traffic. There is construction going on everywhere and the sidewalk pavements are waiting to be finished. There is trash here and shiny brand stores there; old Communist era Grand Hotel Prishtina at one end of the central pedestrian street, a posh new hotel being built at the other end.

Above: The juxtaposition of old and new buildings in Pristina.

It's peaceful and calm here; at least for a traveller this is not a dangerous place - unless you fall into a manhole without a lid. The conflict in the area had long roots and such bad things happened, and they happened so recently, that the situation is complex and difficult. Generally people are trying to forget what happened and just move on with their lives. "But it all gets back to you", said my host Johann, who's been injured at war in Africa. According to him there was no psychological crisis management service after the Kosovo conflict and now the domestic violence rate is high. Yesterday I met a Serb woman who had come to her hometown Mitrovica for holidays from Sweden. She told me she suffered from post traumatic stress for two years after the war. Mitrovica, a town in Northern Kosovo, is divided by a river to Albanian and Serb areas. The woman said she can't go to the other side, because it's too dangerous. (Johann says it's not, but there's just so much fear.) I also saw cars without number plates, because people take them off in order to hide their nationality/ethnicity before crossing the bridge over the river.

Above: Photos of the missing locals on the gates of the government buildings in Pristina - a stark reminder of how recently Pristina was in turmoil.

Now I know why I can't , neither should, plan too much in advance: you never know who you meet and what kind of opportunities you find on the way. I wanted to do some hiking on this trip, but didn't think it could happen in Kosovo. But there I was, sitting in a bus going to the Sharr mountains in Southern Kosovo with Jonathan (a friend of Johann, a Canadian who's lived in the Balkans for 17 years), Emma (a really cool Scottish flowerchild who makes films) and a local hiking club of Kosovan Albanians.

We set our camp in a valley between two mountains near the village of Brod. There was a creek flowing right in front of my tent. In the darkness of the night we gathered around a fire. I learnt some traditional Balkan dancing in a line and even danced one waltz in that magical place under the million stars and the full moon.

I was so happy to have the chance to do all those things I love so much: dancing, camping and hiking. On Sunday we did the hike. It was eleven hours of walking on steep hillsides, easier paths, through mountain meadows full of flowers, stopping for short snack breaks and a dip into a muddy lake. And the highlight: reaching the highest peak in Kosovo: Maja e Njerit, 2658 m, at the Macedonian border.