I started my day in the northern Kosovan city of Mitrovica. My next destination was down south, and Macedonia, or North Macedonia as it’s now officially called, much to the displeasure of its citizens.
Confusing and complicated? Oh yes, but much more on this in the coming weeks.
I had never been to North Macedonia, so this was a new country on the list for me.
I left my flat in divided Mitrovica at 9.30am and walked to where I could catch a bus south to Pristina. On the way, I passed a mural on a wall down a side street. Kosovo has a reputation for huge corruption. I’m told it’s getting better, but it’s prevalent in all manner of society. The photo claims that businessmen are corrupt, the police, and even doctors and nurses. Money is said to change hands for things that you need done. I cannot confirm if this is true or not.
I arrived in Pristina at 11.10am. Oh dear, happy days, back at the same run-down depressing bus station. No sign this time of my homeless guy raking the bins and arguing with God. I hope he’s OK.
I went inside and asked about buses to Skopje, the capital of North Macedonia. I was informed that one was due to depart in 20 minutes, the next not until 2pm. I had actually wanted to take my time, I needed the toilet, a coffee, and a bite to eat, but as I looked around the dejected station, I thought to myself, there’s no way I’m hanging around here for another two and a half hours, I’d lose the will to live.
So, I bought a ticket for £5, grabbed a bag of crisps and jumped on my bus. A 52-seater, but only four others were on board.
I settled back as the bus pulled out of the station and we hit the road. Out of the window, the roads were better than I’d expected, but the sight was grim for the first hour; small, poor towns with rubbish lying around. Then throw in a mix of brand new gleaming buildings such as Burger King, Mercedes and BMW. Two different worlds side by side.
We passed a small town where I spied a roadside restaurant, called, unbelievably, Restaurant Corona. True. I really enjoy coming across strange names for things. For example, a fast-food greasy takeaway in Pristina is aptly called Fati. Brilliant.
The last half an hour before we arrived at the border area was such a contrast, for we drove high up and through beautiful hills and valleys with lush forest all around. I took photos, but the bus window was so dirty they’re not good enough for print.
The border crossing itself, on both sides, was painless. Crossing borders in parts of old Europe, ie outside Schengen, used to excite me, but after you’ve crossed from Israel into the Gaza Strip, nowhere else comes close.
On the Kosovan side, I got out of the bus and endured a simple passport check. Back on the bus and after a drive of a hundred feet or so, out again and up to the Macedonian side. Another passport check as well as my Covid vaccine certificate, for without this piece of paper, there is no entry to North Macedonia. All fine, back on the bus and 20 minutes later we arrived at the central bus station in the capital Skopje. It also looked grim; I could easily have been in rural Romania.
I stepped out into the mid-afternoon heat of Skopje, which was around 30 degrees but felt more. Lots of pollution here, not pleasant to breathe, especially in this heat.
As I stood getting my bearings, it was like flies round… oh, I think you get the picture. Taxi! Taxi! Taxi! I was swamped by six guys, all wanting my business. I said no thank you and walked off. One persisted and decided he’d instantly become my bestest new friend and offered to help me. It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before the world over, yet it’s still annoying.
My newest best friend, who spoke enough English, obviously thought I was a typical green-behind-the-ears tourist out of his depth. A walking dollar sign.
He offered me a cigarette, he said he would make calls for me to my apartment. He started talking football, offered to change money, take me on a trip and no idea what else, I’d stopped listening by then. “I know many good places in Skopje!” he persisted.
“That’s nice…” I replied sarcastically.
My advice to anyone in such a situation is never ever accept any offer from anyone who quickly wants to be your “friend”. Always assume the worst, and politely decline. But this guy would not take no for an answer. I turned to him. “Look mate, I’m the daddy of travellers, you’re gonna have to get up a lot earlier than this to get one over me.” He seemed to get it and walked off.
You may think I was rude, and while this is not behaviour I would display back home, this is not back home, this a poor country, with huge corruption and unemployment. Foreigners get scammed, raped and mugged for a reason… that reason is often because they are naive.
I went inside to get out of the sun and sat down. Moments later another three individuals approached and tried their luck. It was filthy inside, flies everywhere. I sent a text to Zoran, the guy I had rented the apartment from, who said he’d come meet me on arrival. This could take 20 minutes or four hours I thought to myself. Ah well.
I sat inside for 15 minutes, used the disgusting toilets right out of a third world country and also changed cash into the local currency, the Macedonian Denar, which is about 73 to the pound.
Finally, I got a text form Zoran, he was on his way and would meet me outside the front. Good, for I just wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.
Regarding the “taxi drivers”, not real ones of course, just guys touting for business, I get it, they’re simply trying to make a living, but what part of “no” do they not understand?
I walked outside again and one of the same guys from earlier came over and tried for a second time. I just held up my left hand in a stop sign and shook my head.
And Zoran appeared; nice guy driving a clean car. Off we went.
Don’t judge a book by its cover. A wise phrase indeed. For after a long day of travelling, feeling dirty and fed up with so-called taxi drivers, and breathing in pollution from a million cars, I could have easily marked Skopje down. Big mistake, for once settled and out exploring, I really fell in love with this city.
Zoran drove me to my studio apartment, a 30-minute walk from the centre. A brand-new building, all mod cons and all for £16 per night, thank you very much.
I enjoyed a long shower and filled the washing machine with a pile of stinky clothes. At 6pm, feeling refreshed, I headed out for a stroll to stretch my legs and soon came across a stunning Orthodox church just minutes from my flat.
I was already getting a good vibe. I think am gonna like it here, I proclaimed. Or was that Annie from the movie?
I walked back, and straight into the street café at the end of my road, ordered an excellent local cold draught beer and wrote up my notes from the day. I also quickly made a good contract with a waiter who spoke excellent English and was eager to talk all things Macedonian, especially corruption. Duly noted and tick in notepad. Yup, I’ll be bending his ear big time over the coming weeks.
It had been a long day, but again, despite being out of practice at all this travelling malarky and getting older, I’d managed it.
I slept like a baby my first night in Skopje and woke up to the smell of freshly laundered clothes.
Almost as good as coffee.
