Kosovo to Macedonia

Prizren

Still staying in Prizren, we set off the next afternoon for a rustic wine tasting a short drive out of the city. By rustic, I mean standing in a small dark cellar. We tried generous samples of whites, roses, and reds, accompanied by sumptuous charcuterie boards including goat, sheep, and cow cheeses. We all agreed the whites were really good, the rest were inoffensive – that’s what Australians call good but not great wine apparently.

Also included was raki tasting. Raki is the traditional drink of many countries in eastern Europe, and is a by-product of the wine making process. The grape skins and other fruits are used, and raki can be anywhere from 40 – 80% alcohol. It is sipped not shot back! That stuff could kill you I expect.

A glass window in the wooden floor showed the remnants of an aqueduct used in medieval times to move the wine many miles into Prizren for the ruler at the time, who loved his wine.

Later, a few of us went to the main square. Here, as in many places we have been, dogs roam the streets freely. The difference is, they aren’t the generic, skittery stray dogs you see many places, but most are beautiful and friendly and varied. We even saw a Sharr sheepdog wandering around. Their ears are tagged to show they have been neutered. This shows that the community cares for the dogs.

One of these dogs, a giant friendly guy, decided to be a lapdog, and eventually knocked over the drinks. The barkeep just calmly swept up and replaced the drinks.

Leaving Kosovo

The next day, leaving Prizren, we stopped at the remains of a massive monastery from the 1300s. It’s set under a mountain, with ancient walls above, and once occupied the entire area between. Currently just a few monks live there.

The ruler at the time was Dusan the Great, possible namesake of our tour leader Dusan. I could see a resemblance!

Macedonia

Time for another border crossing. The country we entered is officially known since 2019 as Northern Macedonia, to appease Greece, who claim they are historically Macedonian, and also don’t recognize this country as independent. It’s easier to call it Macedonia though.

Again, some people’s passports did not get a stamp when leaving Kosovo, by request, for fear that Serbia would not let them in with that stamp, as they do not recognize Kosovo as a country.

We travelled on amazing highways set high on bridges through the Sharr mountains. These highways were built by the UN and NATO after the 1999 war, to facilitate transport of military equipment between the regions. And maybe also the transfer of the mineral wealth in this area. And let’s not forget drugs!

Skopje

We arrived in Skopje, capital of Macedonia. This city is a little strange. There are massive statues and monuments on every street, hundreds of them. And they were all built in the last ten or fifteen years.

The government decided to make the city more appealing to tourists, and rather than add a metro system or something practical, they decided to build statues.

The main square reminded me of Las Vegas. There are gigantic statues, surrounded by massive buildings with names like Atlantis, and a huge video screen. At night there’s a difference though, with only the video screen lighting up the square.

The river nearby is lined with more massive buildings and monuments. Closer inspection reveals lack of maintenance, burned out light bulbs, broken glass.

Nearby is the home where Mother Teresa was born, now a museum. At the end of that street is a museum with a clock on the its stone wall, stopped at 5 am, the time an earthquake hit in 1963, destroying 80% of the city.

Bar stories in Skopje

We had a couple of hours before dinner, so a few of us went to the bar street. You could choose from a beer bar, a wine bar, a raki bar, and a gin bar. We chose a beer bar, where I ordered wine.

In the beer bar, we started talking about the most famous person we had ever met. I settled on the brother of Pablo Escobar the drug lord, who ran a tour of Escobar sites in Medellin, Colombia. Well, that was nothing. Rob, originally from Manchester, England, had Harold Shipman as his doctor for about 20 years. Mr. Shipman was one of the most prolific serial killers in history, injecting his elderly patients with poison. Apparently he was very nice, and everyone liked him.

In the evening, we walked around the dark streets to see what all the monuments looked like at night, and ended in the raki bar. I tried quince raki, made from a fruit something like a pear. Na zdravje! (cheers)- while making eye contact.