Kosovo Koppels
Kosovo to Cofradia & everywhere in betweenI Love Paris in the… Fall
We departed Pristina around 1:30pm on Friday, November 2nd in order to drop Ramoosh off at the kennel and make it to the airport in time for our flight to Vienna. From Vienna we ambled through the terminal filled with expensive designer shops and boarded our flight to Paris. Once we arrived in Paris, we wheeled our bag along to the Paris RER (train) station where we boarded a train heading into the center of Paris. 35 minutes later we got out at the Notre Dame/St. Michel stop and exited the metro station to a beautiful autumn evening in the heart of Paris. Twinkling lights, more sidewalk cafes than one can imagine, street performers, crepe vendors, Notre Dame itself, it was Paris in all its glory.
After we managed to locate our hotel just off Boulevard St. Germain (there was no street sign to guide our way) on Rue de Seine, we took a walk back through the Latin Quarter and to Notre Dame. The Notre Dame twinkled and projected its reflection off the Seine as couples sat in intimate conversation along the river bank. It was like something straight out of a Robert Doisneau photograph.
Saturday
Our first full day in Paris was NOT spent resting. After a stop in the supermarket across from our hotel to get some fromage (for J) and milk (for E) we had a coffee on the Rue de Bac and then purchased a lovely baguette for E to munch on contentedly. From there, our walking began. We walked along Boulevard St. Germain, through the courtyard of the Musee d’Orsay and across the Seine to the beginning of the Tuileries garden (where a ferris wheel spins away like a blight on an otherwise romantic cityscape).
A stop to watch the birds circle over a central fountain and then it was onward to the Louvre entrance. We “walked like egyptians” into the pyramid and down the stairs to the ticket counters. Like lemmings, we of course had to visit the girls… Mona (Lisa) and Venus (de Milo) – even though we had both seen them before. Along the way we enjoyed a mix of sculpture and myriad paintings of Mary & Jesus. We highly recommend spending the extra six euros and getting the audio tour. You learn so much more – and for art neophytes (like me), your crayon and paper understanding of the art world is pushed through what feels like the equivalent of a college major in art history in the space of a few hours. Who knew that it wasn’t that 14th -16th century artists lacked imagination, it was actually possible to convey incredibly diverse messages through relatively similar portraits of grim looking lords and ladies along with the requisite cherubs, of course.
Lest you think I didn’t enjoy our Louvre experience… au contraire. It truly is a phenomenal place. The museum itself has an amazing history dating back hundreds of years, and the diversity of the collection is truly staggering. I saw some phenomenal sculpture – I particularly liked one where the artist had managed to realistically portray a thin transparent cloth veil draped around a woman’s face (see my pictures), and some of the oil paintings had such depth that they seemed ready to leap off the canvas and into real life.
After we were culturally sated, we headed back across the Seine and through a series of narrow streets lined with art dealers’ shops. We found ourselves at a little cafe with radiant outdoor heaters, so we pulled up two chairs and shared some vegetable soup and chocolat chaud – just what the doctor ordered on a brisk autumn day. Feeling much refreshed, we had the clever idea to buy a bottle of wine in the supermarket and take it to the small strip of land that protrude out from under the Seine’s oldest bridge… Pont Neuf, for a pre-dinner aperitif. Unfortunately, while wine is cheap in France, corkscrews are not. There we were with what we’re sure would have been a lovely 3 euro demi-bottle of wine, but the cheapest corkscrew around was 10 euros. It just didn’t seem right! So we enjoyed the view sans vin and continued on with our “day one” adventure.
It was back into the subway for the trip to the Eiffel Tower after we watched boats filled with tourists glide by for awhile and pondered exactly what kind of people lived in the diverse assortment of houseboats docked along the far “shore.” We arrived at Le Tour Eiffel around 5:30pm to find a queue that stretched out from one of the tower’s four bases and into the center of the tower. We’ll spare you the gory details of the next few hours. Suffice it to say that two hours later we arrived at the front of the queue (without the 3 euro bottle of wine which we had to chuck at the security checkpoint). We still had all our fingers and toes, but they were suspiciously numb as we began our ascent to the Tower’s first level (362 steps – or thereabouts). The wonderful part of the wait is that in the evenings, on the hour, the millions of lights all over the Eiffel Tower are set to “twinkle mode.” It is truly magical to see this huge structure glittering. The walk up helped to warm us a bit but we didn’t linger on the first level. We quickly began our ascent to the second level (another 400 stairs or so), from which the view was even that much more spectacular. From the second level we queued again to get to the top. Thankfully this wait was shorter – and around 8pm we found ourselves at the top of the Eiffel Tower looking out for a distance of over 50 miles as Paris twinkled at our feet. Truly magical.
After the Eiffel Tower we needed a hearty meal to warm us up and finish off our day. What better meal on a brisk evening in France than a fondue! And what better location on a Saturday evening in Paris than the Latin Quarter. The fondue was fantastic and the accompanying St. Emilion (2004?) provided the perfect pairing. When we left the restaurant, we found just that much more room in our cheese laden stomachs for the requisite crepe. Then, as we meandered back in the direction of our hotel, we came across some great street performers… I’d love to see a breakdance competition between NYC’s subway breakdancers and the guys in Paris’ Latin Quarter! Just around the corner another group of street entrepreneurs had set up their karaoke machine. We especially enjoyed the rendition of Lionel Richie’s “I Just Called to Say I Love You” perhaps most especially because of the whole audience participation in singing the chorus.
Sunday
Day two: today’s supermarket cheese selection was boursin and E chose a yogurt drink in lieu of milk. Since today’s adventure would involve travelling outside the City Centre, we joined what appeared to be an exclusively American crowd at the nearest Starbucks for some lattes to go-go. Soon we were on our way to Versailles – which, coincidentally is free on the first Sunday of each month!
The line for Versailles was not as long as the Eiffel Tower, so about an hour after we exited the RER train, we entered the Chateau de Versailles. Once again we recommend the audio tour as a great way to learn about the lifestyles of the French Kings and Queens. The King and Queen each had their own wing that stretched the entire length of the palace. The famous hall of mirrors at the back of the palace, overlooking some of Versaille’s most stunning formal gardens, is where the Treaty of Versailles was signed. It links the King and Queen’s wings.
When you exit the back of the castle, formal gardens run along the sides of several pristine reflecting pools. Behind the tall manicured hedges are grand boulevards that lead to the Petit Trianon and the Grand Trianon. The Petit Trianon, a smaller castle, was a gift from King Louis XVI to Marie Antoinette and she used it as her “escape” from the formalities of court life – or so we were told. The Grand Trianon was commissioned by King Louis XIV and it sits on the Grand Canal. The story they tell you there is that one of the King Louis’s (beats me WHICH one) actually had a fleet of battleships on the canal and he used to have them wage mini-battles for his entertainment. Hmm, jolly good fun?!?
A leisurely stroll along one of the tree-lined boulevards led us to an exit from Versailles. We ambled through the city streets outside the castle walls and to the RER train. After so much walking, we were glad to be sitting on the train. It was a quiet night for us… an Indian Restaurant off Blvd St. Germain finished off our day of royal discovery.
Monday
Monday morning found us wandering down the Rue de Seine towards Luxembourg Gardens with baguette and coffee acquired along the way. When E’s dad lived in Paris, E spent alot of time reading the Economist in Luxembourg Gardens. I hope he took the time to look up occasionally (he assures me he did) because the gardens are truly spectacular. We exited the gardens at the far end from where we had entered and found ourselves in the neighborhood where E’s dad lived. After finding his old street, our day three adventure led us to the Raspail metro stop where we boarded the train towards famed Montmartre – a Paris neighborhood (18th arrondissement) famous for its arts and of course for the Sacre Coeur church.
Sandwiches in hand, we climbed the stairs up to the Sacre Coeur and enjoyed yet another fantastic view of the City of Lights. We also enjoyed the harp player seemingly sent down from heaven to entertain us (and the rest of the crowd) in front of the Sacre Coeur. No manna from the heavens – but in such an idyllic setting anything seemed possible.
Some mulled wine and a croque monsieur for E gave us the energy to explore another museum… the Dali museum. Just off the main square in Montmartre, this is definitely an experience we highly recommend. In addition to some of Dali’s famous “clock pieces” there is a series of Alice-in-Wonderland inspired prints, some tres cool dresses he created (as well as dresses in his style by other designers) and many other trippy Dali works including a lip-shaped divan and lots of his sketches. See the pics for a sampling.
Next, since there is a real shortage of reasonably priced, interesting English language books in Kosovo, one of our priorities for this trip was to acquire some new reading material. We knew there was a bookstore called the Red Wheelbarrow in the vicinity of the Bastille, so we once again boarded the subway to visit yet another Paris neighborhood. We did indeed find the bookstore, and once we had greedily ingested enough possibilities, we made our choices and headed back into the francophone world.
Some more ambling led us to the Hotel De Ville (Paris City Hall). It is yet another magnificent piece of French architecture – ironic since it was originally designed by an Italian. After it was razed in the 19th century, it was reconstructed. The edifice was recreated in its original style, but the interior’s design/layout was apparently modified quite significantly. When we arrived the sun had set and the many lanterns and lights on the face of the building were lit. Stunning. We then headed back the way we had come – this time along the Seine though. Our intention… “storming the Bastille.” There it stood in the middle of an intersection with many roads finding both their origin and end at its magnificence. We wandered round it and then sat down for another fine french gastronomic experience.
After dinner, where the world’s largest St. Bernard (dog) was accompanying the man at the table next to us, we decided that a walk from the 4th arrondissement back to our hotel in the 2nd arrondissement would be a marvelous way to end the day. We crossed the Seine and traipsed along the streets on the Ile-St. Louis. From there we crossed yet another picturesque stone bridge to find ourselves on the Ile de la Cite, approaching Notre Dame from behind. One more bridge and we were on the opposite bank of the Seine. A few minutes further through the Latin Quarter and it was sweet dreams for us.
Tuesday
It was time for a bit of relaxation, so we started our day with a bit of Scrabble action in a cafe along the Seine. From there it was once again across the Seine to the Tuileries and along the Champs Elysees. We must confess, we took a mid-day break and saw a movie… The Kingdom. After arriving at the Arc de Triomphe. We headed away along a different road. Once again we took our time. This time we stopped for coffees and eclairs (and yes, some more scrabble). We did have a destination in mind – the Trocadero, which is an area that hosts a variety of museums and the National Theatre de Chaillot. It also provides yet another vantage point of the Eiffel Tower. Perhaps the quirkiest sight was a bunch of kids trying to surf down the stairs of the Theatre in front of the Tower. Only one made it successfully. He clearly was paying more attention in physics class than his companions.
The weather was cooler this day so we took our wind-whipped faces home for a brief rest and then headed out for one last Parisian dinner. This time we headed to Pigalle for a glimpse of the famous Moulin Rouge. We didn’t stick around the neighborhood very long though – beyond the Moulin Rouge the rest of the place is rather seedy.
We headed in the direction of Montmartre where we happened along what appeared to be a local’s haunt – a restaurant with “GIANT” salads and live jazz music. The girl singer entertained us in at least four languages and the crowd willingly filled the group’s hat with change as it was passed around. The guy on double bass played his part well – staid and calm. The clarinet player was quirky – aren’t they all? And the two guitarists each added a different flavor. A perfect end to another great day in Paris.
Wednesday
We only had a few hours for exploration this day so we stayed in the neighborhood of our hotel. Lest this sounds boring, be assured there is nothing better than window shopping and walking in Paris. The day’s confession… we were lured into a restaurant with a shockingly American menu. Veggie Burger for J and Cheeseburger for E. So, were they pommes frites or fries on the side then? We leave you to decide.
One last adventure awaited us before we boarded our bus to the Beauvais airport. We met up with J’s friend Betty Ann who is working for the OECD in Paris. It was great to see her and to hear of her life in Paris. We’re so glad she could make the time to see us. Then, it was off to the airport for our journey to Madrid (can’t beat one cent flights on Ryan Air). More about this next stage of our adventure in a future blog entry.
Balkan Weekend-Part 2-Brezovica and Prizren
After our Saturday adventure in the Rugova Mountains, E and I didn’t slow down. Within fifteen minutes of our arrival home we had taken the dog out, showered, and made decent attempts at looking presentable so we could join Stephen and Nagham for a celebration of Nagham’s promotion and her mom’s good health. A great celebratory meal at Pinocchio’s (including a fantastic Argentinian Malbec) was followed by a coma-like sleep.
The next morning we were awakened as usual by Ramoosh the dog. Since we would be gone for a large part of the day, we got up to take him for a long walk. We set out at 8am, or so we thought. As we were approaching home at “9:15am” we stopped in a cafe to get some coffees-to-go. Alas, the woman told me “no till 9am.” Hmm, I didn’t question her but as I walked back out to the sidewalk, E and I realized at the same moment that we had forgotten about daylight savings time! It was only 8:15am.
Anyway, at the true 10am that morning we set out in the car with Stephen and Nagham for the drive south to a Serbian area of Kosovo – Brezovica. This area is best known for the ski resort located there. It took us about a twisting and winding 90 minutes to get there – including the passage through the checkpoint that indicates you’ve left Albanian Kosovo and entered the Serb area.
It was a miserable morning. The rain was steady and the world was grey. There was no deterring Stephen though. He drove us straight up the mountain to the resort and showed us all of his old haunts. We drove even further up on what is actually part of the piste in the winter. From there we had a great view of Macedonia.
After venturing back down the mountain, we had a leisurely and MASSIVE serb-style lunch at a restaurant with a lovely fire crackling in the fireplace. We had mulled wine, fried cheese, pickled vegetables, Greek salad, white cheese, soda bread… and that was just to start! Stephen, Nagham and E all ordered some large tomato-based stew-like dish with lamb and some kind of long narrow sausage. The portions were intimidatingly large!
Comatose after that meal, we should have just gone straight into winter hibernation, but instead Stephen convinced us that a drive to Prizren was in order. Thankfully the sun had come out by now, and Stephen’s idea proved to be a wonderful one. The drive was incredibly scenic. From laconic sheep and shar dogs to vistas that seemed to stretch beyond the sun, it was spectacular.
While we only spent a little while in Prizren, it is definitely a city we will return to… it is very old and has lots of clear Ottoman influence. I loved the stone bridge in the center of town.
Check out the photos I’ve posted to the right. Thanks, as always, to our travelling buddies for yet another excellent adventure.
Skopje Jazz Festival – Flamenco!
Two weekends ago, E & I had the opportunity to join Stephen and Nagham for the first night of the annual Skopje Jazz Festival. It was flamenco night, and while both the opening act and the headliner were phenomenal, I especially enjoyed the opener: Juan Carmona. Since we had phenomenal seats in the first row, you too can enjoy a bit of that evening by viewing the video included here.
Balkan Weekend-Part 1-Rugova
There was no sitting around for the Koppels this past weekend. On Saturday morning we got up early to meet Art & Marsha in front of E’s office. Equipped with the requisite chocolate croissants we headed east to the Peja region. Known as the town where the Kosovo beer brewery is located, Peja is more than just hops and barley. It is a beautiful area of Kosovo where the mountains are majestic, the fall foliage rivals that in J’s New York home town, and the brooks all babble effortlessly.
After navigating a lengthy traffic snarl outside Pristina, we drove along yet another Kosovar highway lined with petrol stations, motels, and the bombed out remnants of a number of churches and homes.
We met up with Dr. Gashi in Peja. A devoted outdoorsman, during the week he is a local doctor who works with UNMIK. His enthusiasm is contagious and so with little pause, we happily headed out of Peja and to the Rugova mountains along the Kosovo-Montenegro border (and not so far from the Albanian border). In many places, the picturesque road was literally cut out of the side of a massive rockface. We climbed higher and higher as Marsha adeptly, albeit nervously, maneuvered the corkscrew turns and we oohed and aahed at the fantastic foliage and the dramatic cliffs that fell to a rushing river. Dr. Gashi pointed out the entrance to a cave that apparently extends more than 12 kilometers. I’ll stay above the surface, thank you very much! He also showed us a beautiful church that many Peja locals drive out to on Sundays.
Finally we reached a turn-off. Straight on would have taken us to Montenegro. Instead, we turned off the paved road, engaged the car’s 4-WD and started climbing even more steeply on the muddy track. At about 2000 meters(?) we had finally arrived at the sleepy village from which we would start our several hundred meter ascent through the forest.
It was drizzling and there was snow on the ground, so we all bundled up as best as possible. Unfortunately for E, he doesn’t own hiking boots. So, he borrowed J’s extra wool socks and was quite a trooper in his leather soccer shoes.
Led by Dr. Gashi, the first part of our hike was through a bunch of small alpine cottages – very reminiscent of a small Swiss chalet village. From there we moved into the forest. They had quite a serious forest fire a little over a year ago, so as we moved up, we moved closer and closer to the burn area. There were lots of pine trees and the bark had been stripped off parts of some of them in order to extract the valuable resin. At the time though, besides some animal tracks in the snow, we were the only sign of life around.
The terrain became more rocky and the trees began to thin as we moved up. The snow also became deeper. We arrived at the primary site of the forest fire and it was fascinating to see that the fire had been extinguished by rain just before it leapt to another stretch of forest, so burned tree stumps were directly next to healthy old trees. The even better sight was the small saplings growing on the site of the fire.
A short traverse across a boulder strewn clearing, through another forest, and there we were: at the lake we had come to see. The lake was covered with a thin sheen of ice. It was quite narrow across and stretched around a bend, so I’m not sure how long it is. The mountains rose up all around it – the definition of picturesque.
Back down we went. Once we reached the point where Marsha was taking a well-deserved respite, E headed out in front of the group. His feet were slightly the worse for wear after hiking through the snow and rain for two hours. We all rendezvouzed about 3/4 of the way back to the trailhead. From there we took a slightly different route back, along a dirt road. At this point we were hiking through pea soup fog. The coffees and teas we enjoyed in the mountain hut near where we started were much appreciated.
The drive back to the paved road was a bit nerve-wracking since the fog was all around us, but Marsha took it nice and slow, and we eventually made it.
We made one more stop on our drive back to Peja. Dr. Gashi showed us an absolutely gorgeous trail to a beautiful waterfall that has been painstakingly created through the collaboration of several groups brought together by the Kosovo Environmental Action Group. Those I remember include Soros, Colgate University, and Deutsche-something or other. It was a short trail on planed wood planks and small wooden bridges. As you arrive to the waterfall area, there is a final winding staircase carved into the stoneface opposite the waterfall. When you arrive at the top, you’re at the same height as the mid-point of the waterfall itself – where a pool has formed, and the water collects before continuing its descent.
Many thanks to Dr. Gashi for being a fantastic tour guide, to Art and Marsha for inviting us, doing all the driving AND providing some fantastic banana nut bread and homemade cookies.
It was a fantastic adventure. Rugova – we’ll be back again and we’ll definitely spread the word to other people. It is a shame that Kosovo has such an incredible natural environment, and yet so few people are aware of it. For those of you who are nerdy like me, I found the following link to the Kosovo Ministry of the Environment’s Action Plan: http://kos.rec.org/english/pdf/KEAPS.pdf It addresses everything from air and water quality to soil and radiation management.
Snow in Pristina
It snowed here in Pristina last night. As E and I walked down the street towards the Phoenix Bar to watch the Rugby World Cup Final, the power went out with it’s typical “pop.” In the near darkness through which we trudged, hats on and heads down, the rain seemed to begin a metamorphosis… “is it raining or snowing?” we asked.
A minute later we arrived at our destination and promptly forgot the weather. Yet, when we glanced up and out the window during the World Cup half-time, we were amazed to see tried and true snowflakes fluttering down through the evening sky. No snow is left on the ground this morning, but there’s a coating on rooftops and cars. Appears that winter has arrived in the Balkans.
Greece with 2 Steves
J’s SIPA classmate Steve K recently arrived in Pristina to visit with Steve F., another SIPA classmate who also works for UNMIK. It was our duty to show Steve K the sites – a responsibility we took very seriously! Since there was a long weekend this past week, on Friday morning the 2 steves, J & E all hit the road for a trip to Greece.
Our first destination: Skopje, Macedonia. About two hours due South from Pristina, Skopje is the capitol of Macedonia. The road through Kosovo is filled with industrial buildings, an inexplicably large number of motels and quite a few gas/petrol stations.
But once you roll into Macedonia, the landscape changes. It is quite mountainous, and there are lots of valleys and idyllic little streams scattered through the mountain ranges. Beyond enjoying the landscape though, Macedonia was not our destination, so we stopped in the only restaurant that was open in Skopje (it was the Ramadan feast day), McDonalds if you can believe it, and were SERVED at our McD’s table. We then picked up a rental car and rolled on after E had his first go at driving a standard car (a successful attempt). Beyond the escaped cows we encountered round a bend, the road was ours – not many other people were out and about. So, shortly thereafter we arrived at the Greek border.
From there, it was past Thessaloniki and Mount Olympus, and onward to the Greek peninsula of Halkidiki. High tourism season is definitely over in that part of Greece, so we were easily able to maneuver through the narrow little cobble-stoned streets that eventually lead you to the water. Seeing as the water surrounds you on three sides, you’re never far from the beach in Halkidiki!
We stayed in locally owned apartments in the heart of the little Greek village of Afitos. In our two nights’ there, the guys consumed innumerable fresh octopus tentacles… they keep a live octopus in a tank at the restaurant and chop off the tentacle(s) of your choice. As Steve F delighted in telling me, “they grow back so the best time of year is the BEGINNING of the season when the poor buggers have had all winter to regenerate.” Lovely. The guys had alot of other seafood too, but nothing else that was still wiggling when served.
We also partook of our fair share of ouzo – the greek anise-flavored drink. I appreciated the cultural warning in the binder in our apartment… “if you have too much ouzo to drink one night, beware of drinking too much water the next morning as it will make you drunk again.” For those of us who have toasted with pastis or ricard or some other national anise-flavored drink, this is a warning we know to be well worth heeding.
We spent our days driving along the coast, ambling along the beach, partaking in a bit of coffee, ouzo, retsina (a greek drink that is some kind of fermented beverage that includes pine resin), and playing many hands of cards. We must mention our favorite waiter – the Buddha Boy. As for physical recreation, E was the only one of us brave enough to swim in the crystal clear water since while it wasn’t exactly cold, it was certainly not warm!
Sunday afternoon found us homeward bound. By 9:30pm were back in Pristina. Many thanks to Steve F for doing the majority of driving!
Our Winged Visitor
Two weekends ago, E and I went to a party at Zeynep and Ufuk’s house in Dragodan (a neighborhood in Pristina). Since the evening turned into a riddle fest, we found ourselves leaving there very late (highly out of character for us ol’ fogies).
When we walked into our apartment at 2:30am, I went straight into my little “office” to turn off the computer. “Swoosh” something flew right by my head as I sat down! I gave a little shriek and ran out of the room. When I told E we had a bird in the house he immediately closed himself into the bedroom with the dog. So much for chivalry in the Koppel home. After I shut the cat in another room and joined the two cowardly lions in the bedroom, the dog got a little agitated and decided to relieve himself ON THE BED! Did I mention it was about 3am now?
So, I peered out of the bedroom to discover that our winged guest was now swooping back and forth in the hallway because the light was on in the bathroom (directly next to the bedroom from which we were plotting his removal). Someone clearly had to go out into the hall and turn OFF the bathroom light to stop the frantic flying. Which Koppel would it be? E had a moment of courage, but alas it fizzled when he poked his head out the door and realized our fine “feathered” friend was actually a bat.
About five false starts later, my head covered in a winter cap, I gathered my courage and jumped into the hall to smack the lightswitch and start closing doors to create a path to the windows I threw open. When E realized that the undoubtedly traumatized bat was stationary at the other end of the hall, he joined me in plotting to roust the bat and send him in the direction of the open windows.
Armed with five empty 1.5 liter water bottles (there’s never a shortage of those here), E started chucking them at Monsieur Bat. Just as E’s ammunition was running out, the bat took the hint and flew off. I had a momentary glimpse of him as he flapped into the living room and out the window. Adios!
So after stripping the sheets off the bed and scrubbing the comforter, E and I fell into a deep sleep at 4am. Who knew it would be such an exciting Friday night!
By the way, here’s one of the riddles (compliments of Oksana) that puzzled us at the party:
A man walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a glass of water. The bartender pulls out a gun and points it at the man. The man says “thank you!”
What happened?
You can post yes/no questions in the comment section and I’ll respond.
Roman Catholic Church in Kosovo
Did you know that somewhere between 5-10% of Kosovar Albanians are Catholic while the remainder of the region is comprised of approximately 90% Albanian Muslims and 5% Serbian Orthodox Christians?
Now here’s a quiz for you. Who is Albania’s most famous Catholic? I’ll give you a hint – it is a woman. Do you know now? She spent the majority of her life working in India, although she also initiated other programs around the world. She was awarded a Nobel Peace Prize. She died just over ten years ago. A major thoroughfare here in Pristina is named after her (an aside: another street is named after Bill Clinton).
The answer is Mother Theresa! This woman known the world round was the youngest child born to an Albanian family. She was born in Skopje (now the capitol of Macedonia) in 1910 as ˈagnɛs gɔnˈʤa bɔˈjaʤiu (Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu). Say that three times fast.
Something I found interesting is that my (admittedly cursory) research indicates that once she left home at the age of 18 (1928) to begin her work as a missionary with the Sisters of Loreto, she never returned home (if you have information to the contrary – please let everyone know by posting a comment). Yet, she is most certainly revered here.
Speaking of Mother Theresa, Stephen & Nagham introduced E and I to the Catholic Church here in Pristina. There is a large statue of Mother T at the front of the church and some rather psychedelic stations of the cross mounted on the walls… one almost expects to see little grateful dead bears traipsing among the scenes. Trippiness aside, they’re quite nice.
The English language mass is on Saturday evenings at 7pm. The priest is an Irishman who is here with KFOR. He comes to church accompanied by two young lads with large “semi-automatic?” machine guns. They sit in the last pew and do take communion, guns slung across their backs. After mass, Father disappears into the Sacristy and quickly emerges in full-on fatigues. It’s out to the landcruiser with his two companions and back to the military base. Amen.
On the Road Again – To Istanbul
After arriving in Pristina on September 1st, I spent a day catching up on some long overdue sleep. E took me on a walking tour of town, but other than that we just lazed around our apartment in Downtown Pristina.
On the morning of the 3rd we headed back to the airport for an afternoon flight to Istanbul. After navigating our way through the line/horde at the airport ticket counter we queued for the various security checkpoints. A few minutes after the flight departed, the flight attendants began a frantic distribution of meals (who knew airlines still served full meals to coach passengers on short haul flights! Turkish Airlines does folks)! Literally five minutes after the trays were placed in front of us, the flight attendants desperately (at least according to their facial expressions) began collecting the trays again. As they moved down the aisle and towards the middle where we were seated, you could feel a palpable panic spread. People began eating faster and almost with choreographed synchronization - ourselves included. I gobbled down the surprisingly decent offering and chugged the water that was included- just in time – the flight attendant’s hand reached in to take my tray and I breathed a deep sigh of relief/indigestion.
A little while later we arrived in Istanbul. As E was getting cash, I heard a call over the loudspeaker for “El Koppel.” Apparently E’s first name had been shortened and assumed to be part of his new Arab last name.
We settled into our hotel room in the center of Sultanahmet with a fantastic view of the Aya Sofya. Using our eight year old guidebooks, we found an inexpensive restaurant favored by locals and enjoyed our first holiday meal (which included beetroot juice for the intrepid E).
Over the next two days we toured the Aya Sofya (aka Hagia Sophia), the Blue Mosque (constructed between 1609-16), and the Topkapi Palace (including a visit to the Sultan’s Harem). I was especially impressed by the tremendous history within the Aya Sofya or “Church of Holy Wisdom.” Built on the footprint of two earlier churches, it was inaugurated by Emperor Justinian in 537AD. When you see the massive domes and marble floors, you too will be amazed at how old the building is. In the 15th century, the Ottomans moved in and converted the church into a mosque. As a result, there is an interesting/odd blend of items to see… minarets, tombs and fountains were the Ottomans contributions, but a number of beautiful golden mosaics of saints and other religious figures remain to betray the building’s original purpose.
E especially enjoyed (he doth protest) our wander through the Sultan’s harem at Topkapi palace (we highly recommend arriving right at 9am so that you don’t have to queue forever). Women of the harem were not locals. They were slaves brought from the furthest reaches of the Ottoman empire and beyond. Competition was stiff to be favored by the Sultan, because to bear him a son might lead to marriage. For those of you who have ever competed with someone else for the affection of another, imagine a competition with such high stakes that you’re competing with up to 1,000 other concubines! That’s right – the harem was FULL of women – and the only men allowed were the Sultan, his sons, and the Eunuchs that guarded the harem. For added intrigue, the mother of the son who the Sultan chose to succeed him (no primogeniture – ie, right of the first born son – there) became the Valide Sultan – the most powerful woman in the Harem. She had a suite of luxurious rooms and she wielded significant power in the matters of the State. She also held significant estates. I could go on and on about the interesting social dynamics that governed behaviour in the Harem, but then you’d have no reason to visit and learn more for yourself!
During our week in Istanbul, we also drank a significant amount of Turkish coffee. If you’re not familiar with this form of coffee, it is worth experiencing. It is essentially finely ground (to powder consistency) roast coffee beans served in a small espresso-sized cup with the dregs forming a solid sludge at the bottom of the cup. The Turks call it turk kahvesi to distinguish it from the relatively recent emergence of “instant coffee” or “nescafe” that is also available.
We also conquered the Istanbul trolley/subway system, visited the Galata Tower, took the locals’ ferry to the Asian side of Istanbul, visited Taksim Square, took a daylong boat-trip to the Princes’ Islands where J was singlehandedly responsible for NOT getting us lost (ie, refusing to accept E’s persistent insistence that we were going the wrong way), and befriended numerous dogs and cats (who seem to be well-loved in Turkey) along the way.
Finally, while the Turkish folks had a lovely habit of sitting together at small cafes for backgammon games, E and I had our own take-off of an afternoon/evening social game… “travel scrabble.” To protect the innocent, I won’t say who won more of the many matches we played that week. Suffice it to say that in the process of proving that you can play “travel scrabble” on a boat, in a park, at a restaurant, at the airport, overlooking the Bosphorus, on a Castle’s grounds… we both had a number of 300+point games.
On September 9th it was back to the Istanbul airport, and from there to our little home in Pristina once more.
A hectic departure for Kosovo
I returned from Cofradia late in the evening on the 27th of August. I had three and a half days to pack up our apartment – keeping only what possessions would fit into a 5′x5′x8′ storage unit in the South Bronx. Baby Cat and I would depart for Pristina, Kosovo on Friday afternoon.
Thankfully, I had already packed our china and other such breakable items. I sold the bed and the dresser and our curtains and an assortment of other random items on Tuesday to a crowd of rabidly friendly Facebook shoppers. Our departure felt even more imminent as I was now sleeping on the floor.
I packed the kitchen stuff. I reluctantly committed clothes and kitsch to what seemed like a mountain of bags for the GoodWill. I purged the innumerable manila envelopes that were in some indiscernible way E’s “filing system.” Yet the possessions to be packed seemed neverending!
At 10am on Thursday, Dave G. responded to my plea for assistance – the storage unit truck was coming in an hour and our worldly possessions had not yet been successfully condensed into the allotted amount of space. Help! Between the two of us, we stuffed and crammed and carefully wrapped a huge amount of “stuff” just in time to greet the storage unit moving man.
After loading everything up (would it truly all fit?) we climbed into the cab of the truck – J on the jump seat and Dave riding shotgun – and headed to the South Bronx. After unloading it all onto massive handtrucks, our moving guy assured me we could carefully maneuver into the freight elevator and through the maze of storage lockers WITHOUT everything tumbling off and shattering. Well, we did indeed make it to the locker and as the guys began to put together the puzzle of how to best maximize every square foot of the locker to its fullest potential. I headed around the corner to pick up a few items I had set down, when “CRASH…” I walked slowly back around the corner as Dave G. said, “ummmm, J…” one of the handcarts had dumped its load. Was it the handcart with our lovely china and other cherished fragile items? Miraculously, No! The only thing that had broken was E’s gold-tone chinatown piggybank.
All in all, it seemed a miracle. We managed to cram everything into the locker with a small amount of space to spare! D and I headed back to Harlem via the 6 train. Since we got off in Spanish Harlem, a festive Mexican meal and a few moments of relaxation seemed in order. We thoroughly enjoyed our huarachas and enchiladas, but all too soon it was back to the grind.
BabyCat and I headed to the vet next for her required vaccinations. The vet updated BabyCat’s passport, she was given a clean bill of health, and then it was back home. When we arrived, I took a walk through what should have been an empty apartment. But, how was it possible that so much stuff remained! Uggh, a long night of packing led to an early morning start. First, there was a stop at Sara K.’s house to hand-off some important BECA paperwork, then to a photocopying store because the printer/copier had been sold earlier in the week. Next stop was the bakery because chocolate croissants can make the most impossible situations seem feasible. And finally, the last stop was the bank for some important last-minute business.
It was 10:15am when I arrived home. I now had to get all the remaining items that I had discovered in the apartment packed up and to the South Bronx before my taxi to the airport arrived at 2:00pm. Kappu came down to say goodbye and goodnaturedly was pressed into packing service for awhile. When it seemed like the packing MUST end because time had grown too short, I recruited my next door neighbor Eddie to help me load it into a taxi for yet another trip to the South Bronx. Next hiccup though: the street was closed for the day for major Con Edison work, so a bunch of amiable neighborhood guys pitched in to help us carry all the stuff to the corner. We hailed a taxi and headed out. When we got to the storage place, I told the taxi driver I would pay him to wait for us (not a big presence of taxis in the area we were in) – “five minutes,” I said. So, Eddie and I got into the freight elevator.
All once again seemed possible when…. “THUMP” the elevator stopped between floors. There we sat for what seemed like days (about 45 minutes) until the elevator guys finally managed to get the doors open and help us climb out and unload the stuff. By the time we finally got my stuff into the storage unit, our taxi driver had long since departed, so it was once again to the 6 train.
When I got home, I had a few minutes to pack some remaining items into one last suitcase. I wasn’t quite finished (and had not yet showered) when my taxi arrived. I asked for ten minutes, took a 30-second shower, loaded BabyCat into her bag, yelled goodbye to Kappu, dragged my bags out to the curb, and waved goodbye to our Harlem home as the taxi driver headed towards JFK.
Alas, the traffic (it was a Friday afternoon) provided another challenge. Over an hour of ‘bumper-to-bumper stress’ later, we arrived at the airport. My flight was scheduled to depart in one hour and fifteen minutes. The people at the check-in counter were less than cordial. They took one look at ragamuffin ol’ me and my baggage and seemed to make an impromptu decision to do everything possible to keep me on American soil. “Miss, the check-in is closing now; you’re too late.” “But, there’s more than an hour till the flight departs.” “You’ll never make it through security in time.” “Please just let me try!” “Well Miss, you have too many bags.” “But I called and asked if it was possible to pay extra to check one additional bag, and was told that I could” I responded through a smile of gritted teeth.” “No, there’s a baggage embargo in Kosovo and I’m not willing to get fired by breaking with protocol” and so it went as the precious minutes till departure ticked by.
I’m not sure how, but after chucking my winter coat and a few books, I managed to fit an entire bag inside another and convince the grumpy staff to let BabyCat and I check-in. After an interminably long security line (involving security checks of both me and BabyCat), we made it to the gate just as they were announcing that the flight was closing.
It was off to Kosovo via Vienna with a lovely British lady as our seat partner. BabyCat was a travelling pro – and she even had some beef medallions as a mid-flight snack (generously proffered by our seatmate). I didn’t sleep at all on the flight, so by the time we arrived in Vienna for our five-hour layover, I had only slept about four hours in the last 48. I spread our airline blanket on the floor, let the cat out of the bag (literally not figuratively) and laid down on the floor amidst the hustle and bustle for a little “cat” nap, as Baby stood guard.
One more short flight and there we were. Miraculously, all of our bags arrived. After loading them onto a luggage trolley, we wheeled our way through the doors and into E’s waiting arms! We were in Kosovo at last!
