Road Trip in the Balkans Part 1

After an amazing trip with the family to Istanbul, we embarked on our adventures through the former Ottoman territories in South East Europe.  Arriving on Christmas evening into Prishtina, the Road Trip Trio, consisting of Mom, Mark, and I, made our way to my apartment.  We did not have plans for the evening, so we called it an early night as there were adventures to be had in the morning.

The day after Christmas sees the group getting split into two.  I went to work, I worked all day.  Nothing truly special there, but you gotta make that bacon when you can. However, Mom and Mark set off towards Skopje in hopes to rent a car that would be our vessel through the region.  They were successful getting the car, though, due to border control issues and the like, they were unable to see much of the city.  This, to me, is a shame.  Skopje comes off as the Las Vegas of the Balkans; one could say that the town looks a bit like Cesar’s Palace if one were so inclined.   The massive statues that are haphazardly placed throughout the city look like they are straight out of ancient Greece, but there is a catch.  The catch is that each of these statues was built in the last few years.  The mayor of Skopje (need citation) has made good on his promise to produce statues throughout the city to increase tourism.  While it is awesome to see a politician make good on his word, it makes the city a little cheesy.  But hey, you cannot get everything you want, amiright? Anyways, they got the car and headed back to the good ole RKS.  We had a wonderful dinner at Pishat with Jason and Laura.  Pishat is such a fabulous restaurant.  It’s good, cheap traditional Albanian/Kosovar food.   The next morning was road time.

Random Door/Tree in Kotor, Montenegro

We set off towards Prizren, on a rainy December morning, so that I could give them a tour around the cultural capital of Kosovo.  After a brief espresso break, we started the trek up to the castle.  The castle had a little bit of an eerie edge to it, a combination of the ruins and the weather.  On the way to the top, we got “lost” through the old Serbian section of the town.  This area, destroyed, is tucked into the hill against the castle.  It sustained its damage during the ethnic riots during 2004; no one has returned and nothing has been done to repair the buildings.  After a nice lunch, we started off towards Decan monastery.  It was a pleasant drive.  We stopped off at the Tailor’s Bridge just south of Gjakova to walk it and look at sheep.  The temperature had dropped a bit and there was still snow on the ground.  We hopped back in the car and pointed ourselves north to get to one of the older Serbian monasteries in the area.  While this was my second time to the monastery, I was not prepared to witness it in winter.  There was ample snow on the ground and visibility was nil.  We could not see beyond the walls, and while Mom and Mark missed out on the surroundings – it was still a cool scene.  The fog was so thick that you were truly isolated inside the walls, with just the towering monastery and silent monks to keep you company.  I should mention that the monks will talk to you, but for the most part they are pretty quiet people.  I guess they could be described as monk-like?

After a good tour of the grounds and chapel, we purchased a good amount of homemade Decan wine and set off on our way back to Prishtina.  We ran into some problems with a lack of a headlight and a dense fog mixed with poor roads, so the trip back was quite stressful.  It became a theme for our time on the road.  Back in Prishtina, we feasted on homemade sheep’s cheese and homemade wine – with a bit of Raki and whisky.  We woke up early and met up with Jason and Laura for lunch, and then I had a meeting with the US Ambassador to Kosovo, the amazing Mrs. Tracy Jacobson.  We headed out towards Kotor after the meeting.

The Meeting:  I met for about twenty minute with an extremely talented and incredibly smart Ambassador; it was just a nice aside that I was meeting someone who was doing what I wanted to do with my life.  She answered all my questions about being an FSO, the best plans for achieving that, and things that can boost my application.  I am really lucky to have gotten an opportunity to meet with her and I could not have done that without Dan Moulton.  He originally introduced me to her which then led to her inviting me to a meeting. 

After the meeting was the beginning of the main part of our trip.  Our plans included the following cities: Kotor, Montenegro; Dubrovnik, Croatia; Mostar, Bosnia-and-Herzegovina; and Tirana, Albania.   The biggest thing that I learned from my trip is that you should never make plans without first consulting how long the sun will be in the sky, especially when driving in the mountains/coast where the infrastructure is less than perfect.  That being said, we got really lucky to have crossed the Albanian/Kosovo border and border region while the sun was still in the sky.  I will note that Kukes, Albania is a super depressing town that really left me feeling a bit concerned; when I say concerned, I really mean to say that it is one of the few locations that I have been to that made me feel less than safe.  It’s also a known drug running/organized crime region of Albania, so there is always that too.  Back on track, so here’s how the roads in that part of Albania work.

                

                                     Backdrop:  There is a road currently under construction that will link Nis, Serbia (ultimately connected to Belgrade) and Durres, Albania.  It will be a highway, and, by the looks of the Kosovo part, it could be a good one that will severely reduce the amount of time it takes to traverse that region.  So Serbians wishing to tan on the Adriatic should be able to with relative ease.   This has the potential to drive tourism in the region, as well as economic growth due to ease of commercial transport.  Still, it is a work in progress and the Albanian section is a bit….. dangerous.  Here’s why:  So you are driving through the mountains, steep mountains on one side and harrowing cliffs on the other, when all of a sudden your two lanes (headed towards Durres) have shifted over to the other side and your current trajectory takes you over the cliff.  Is there any warning? Of course not, that would make life too easy.

Mom conquering St. John's Fortress

Anyway, we arrived in Kotor, Montenegro later that evening.  I could, and might, dedicate an entire blog post to the beauty of the Adriatic Coast.  The Croatian and Montenegrin coast lines are absolutely riveting, though I am still a firm believer that Kotor is the most beautiful city I had ever seen.  (Southern Albania is supposed to give it a run for its money, but I cannot confirm or deny) Montenegro is named for its black mountains, (Monte- Mountain Negro – Black; or Mali i Zi in Albanian) which are accurately compared to a lunar landscape.  It is unlike anything I had seen prior to this, which was exacerbated by the Bay of Kotor in which these mountains, and the city of Kotor, converge upon.  The water was rather clear, rather blue, and would be perfect in the summer.  So the Bay of Kotor, where it meets the city, is a horse-shoe shape that has a short flat “plain” before it rises into the mountains.  So the mountains all but meet the water’s edge, and this little distance between the two is the city of Kotor.  Did I also mention that the Old City of Kotor is walled-in?  There is a path up the mountain; it is 1350 steps up and 1350 down to reach St. John’s Fortress.  This fortress provides some spectacular views of the Bay, the Old City, and the surrounding “suburbia”.  The wall dates back to Illyrian times, with Justinian I (of the Byzantine Empire) doing a large part of the reconstruction.  (There was an earthquake and reconstruction later, too)  You can definitely tell the wall was constructed of local stone, as sometimes it is hard to discern the difference between the landscape and the walls themselves.  

Mom, Mark, and I relaxed the first day after the heavy driving the night before.  We drank some rakija (Serbian name for raki) with our landlords at like 9:30 in the morning, paired with some excellent local cheese.  Our landlords were excellent hosts that were super friendly; the husband was also a bit of a whisky fanatic so while the language barriers were great, we were able to bond over that. (and his collection of bottles)  After a hardy breakfast of like 2 or 3 rakijas, we headed towards the Old Town to make our ascent to the fortress.  The Old Town is beautiful and well maintained, the path up to the fortress is steep and difficult, and overall the ambiance is something that I would have paid money to enjoy.  It is really difficult to produce the words that would accurately paint a picture of the beauty and majesty that is Kotor, though it still holds a quaintness of a small town.  One thing that I decided is that if I wanted to become a painter I would move to Montenegro – the landscapes themselves would do 90% of the work.

Black Risotto

After exploring the city, we ate a delicious dinner that included the local specialty of black risotto.  It is blackened by squid ink, but does not taste like I imagined it too.  I imagined it to taste similar to drinking a fountain pen, but it was rich and delicious instead.  The seafood was fresh and the wine was delicious.  We retired to the apartment to plan our next moves to Croatia and Bosnia-n-Herzegovina the next day. 

Operation Mountain Goat

 P.S.  I think I have found my honeymoon location, but I think I should probably see about the larger part of getting to the honeymoon stage....

P.P.S  I am hoping to make an entire photo-based post in the near future, I just thought I would give you a taste of them.

Kotor By Night (Not my photograph)

View from the Fortress (Not my Photography)

Turkish Christmas Part 2

After leaving from the Sultanahmet district, we tried our luck wandering through town.  While we skipped over the Hagia Sofia for the time being, due to lines, we did wander into the old Byzantine Cistern.  This is a little “off”, well, under the beaten path, in my opinion – but was a really cool attraction none the less.  It is amazing how this ancient watering hole, still supported by original columns, had not collapsed over the years of construction in Istanbul.  It’s basically a grid-like square of, probably, 50 x 50 columns that maintain a reservoir of water.  It’s not too deep nowadays, stocked with some large fish, but the water was nice and clear.  It was ridiculously humid though! As one would imagine, I’d suspect. 

After stopping for a bite to eat, we headed off towards the water.  It was time to see the Strait itself, and make the trip to the “newer” parts of town.  It was a brisk December day, the wind off the water kept the temperature from rising very high, but as long as we kept moving it was quite nice.  As we were walking towards the Gelato Bridge, we made a “quick” pit stop at the Spice Market.  This is the second of three major markets in the city; while slightly smaller than the Grand Market, it is still a bustling place to be and full of a vast variety of smells.  As well, one could buy medical leeches.  If one was so inclined. Melissa and I stopped to investigate, but against our better judgment opted to not partake in some bloodletting.  I’ll try to see if I have pictures running around here somewhere.  Mark and I were lucky enough to stumble across some much needed Turkish memorabilia – flag pins, flag patches, etc, so that mission was successfully completed!

After spending some time at the Spice Market, we started to make our way across the bridge towards the new section of town.  The Crossing of the Bridge is an interesting experience.  One that I’ve been mulling over on how best to describe in this post.  This experience has been a bit overwhelming,  it’s not something that I am accustomed to in general, nor is it something that one runs into in Kosovo.  Let’s see how I do: (Melissa/Mark/Mom/Jeremy, can you comment to see what you think?)

                So the Turkish vendors are very pushy and are super dedicated to trying to make a sale.  However, it comes off like snake-oil salesmen.  Reflecting on it, pushy is an understatement.  They will call out at you, they will talk to you, they will follow you, they won’t take no for an answer, they will borderline harass you (or just persistent, you decide), and the worst of them are the carpet salesmen.  Now, I don’t want to say that I think poorly of them; we all have a job to do, and they are products of their environment.  However, for whatever reason, I was not in the mood for it.  I didn’t embrace the hyper-pawnshop-esque experience.  And because of this, I might have been cursed at, flipped off, yelled at, and the like more than my fair share.  Now, I really think that only one time was warranted.  I was a bit rude to the Rolex-seller, not a stall at the market but rather a wandering salesman.  We clearly weren’t interested and he was bugging me, so I might have shooed him away.  Probably not one of the nicer gestures one can show your fellow man, but as they say “çka me ban”. (Gheg Albanian)  The other frequent cursing stemmed from my window shopping, that and probably my lack of engagement with the vendors.  Now that was just the vendors.  The one that really bothered me was the restaurant “herders”.  I could not get into this experience, as Melissa and Jeremy did.  The one that particularly sticks out to me happened as I turned a guy down and he stepped in front of me to block me.  Now I had not been rude at this point, but that one got to me.  I do not like being impeded in my ability to move around, especially in a city so infamous for pickpockets. Again, it was an experience.  Next time I’ll make sure to mentally prepare myself for the banter that comes with such adventures.  C’est la vie. 

After crossing the bridge, we started making moves towards the public transportation system of Istanbul.  It was extremely nice, actually.  It was rather efficient, actually.  It was pleasant, to say the least.   We decided to take the trip up to Tashkim Square and the main, trendy boulevard of this district.  (There might have been an incident where I inaccurately pronounced the word “funicular”, but the details surprisingly escape me) Arriving at Tashkim Square, we had the impeccable timing of getting to be a part of an anti-American (they view us as Imperialist, real original amIright?) youth group that was decided to host a protest in those parts. Luckily, we slipped past them and the riot police before things got too crazy.  So here we are walking down the 5^th Avenue of Istanbul, and it was a complete transformation from the Sultanhamet district where the apartment was.  It was a normal street that you would find anywhere in the world, complete with stores (and prices) that matched the scenery.  My favorite part was the 6-story megamall.  It offered great views up and down the street; it was a giant disc with a hole in the middle so you could see from the top floor all the way down to the ground floor (vertigo!); it had a Krispy Kreme.  Three things that all megamalls (I am using the European definition here) should have in the world. 

As we continued down the road, after a KK break, we spied a Catholic Church that we thought would be a perfect place to attend Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.  It was a beautiful Cathedral, from the outside only at this point, which was to provide an interesting Mass.

After a nice dinner at a “super Tradition Turkish” joint, I might be sarcastic about its authenticity but not about the taste of the food, we headed home for an early night.  We watched a little bit of Iranian television, partook in some wine, Raki, and whisky, and turned in for some much needed rest.  Melissa and I got up at 5 AM the next morning to go to our apartment’s roof top terrace and listen to the call to prayers.  It was not as strong as I would’ve liked, but it was still beautiful to watch the sun rise over the city.  

Christmas Eve, 2012, the day I went to Asia for the first time.  So after battling all of the vendors selling trips through the strait, we settled on the public ferry to take us to Asia.  While, some of you, might think this is a cop-out; I call it geography.   I have officially now been to 3/7 continents, so I am, slowly but surely, making my way through this world.  We had some delicious appetizers with the Bosporus Bridge as a phenomenal backdrop.  After a short walk trough Asia, we headed back to the European side of things for a more solid dinner.  Fried fish sandwiches, they don’t get too much better than fresh from the Strait.  I think the only thing better than the freshness was getting back to the Southern-style fried culinary technique of deliciousness.  We retired to the apartment to rest up for the evening mass.

Christmas Eve Midnight Mass in Turkey – not an everyday phrase one gets to use.  So I decided to take advantage of it and lead with it.  Our arrival at the Cathedral was met with masses of people working to fill the church for a peculiar once a year event.  I will list things this way:

                Our expectations:  A super traditional Mass that would be something that I had seen plenty of times before, but would be separated by the simple fact I was in Turkey.

                Our experience:  A super contemporary Mass that featured an Africa youth choir, that was delightful yet contemporary.  The Mass itself seemed like a spectacle, so many cameras/iPads/iPhones shooting pictures, with flash, of the altar.  I, for one, was very disappointed in people’s actions in that regard, as well as the style of the proceedings themselves.  Was it an experience?  Sure.  What it something that I’ll go back to see?  No.  I want to find the Armenia Catholic Church next time.  That is my gameplan for my next Christmas Eve Mass in Turkey.

                We had exchanged presents before we left for Mass, and I have to thank everyone, again, for all the lovely gifts.  I was able to secure some Romanian liquor that is very similar to “Raki”, the same fire in your gut, arms, legs, head, throat, feet, hands, etc, that I’ve come to expect from Balkans liquor.  I also received some much needed Alpaca socks from the Royer family, which were a God-send in my heatless apartment.   I digress. 

  So the last day of our trip to Istanbul was an eventful one.  Melissa, Jeremy, and I visited Hagia Sofia, finally, and it was worth every penny that we paid to get in.  It’s this church/mosque that has been seen expansion since it was first built during the Byzantine Empire’s ownership of Constantinople.  It’s reminds me of a sprawling city, each new layer has a different look and feel to it than the previous one.  It’s a hodgepodge of history.  The inside was as spectacular as the outside, the Islamic additions and art were exquisite.  The classic castle/church foundations were a living trip through history; the changes in the nature of the times are reflected.  It shifts from a practical church/castle/fort to a monument to an Empire that stretched for thousands of miles and lasted for about as long.  After a lengthy tour of the church/castle/fort/mosque/museum, we (Melissa and Jeremy were staying on in Istanbul, but alas Mom, Mark, and I were out) headed to have our final lunch.  We found this top floor, sunroom-style restaurant that served pretty traditional Turkish food with stunning views of the Hagia Sofia.  It was perfectly balanced by the springtime-like weather that we were graced with that day.  Even though it was spring time, we might have opted for some mulled wine.  One does not simply say no to mulled wine on Christmas Day.  Did I mention that my Christmas Day was spent in a historical monument that, dedicated in 360, has seen the passing of time?  (It was the Patriarchal Seat of the Eastern Orthodox Church from 360-1460, barring sometime again as a Roman Catholic Cathedral, then a Mosque until 1931.  It then became a museum some 4 years later.

As we boarded the plane to head back to Prishtina, I realized that I had seen a city that I had only dreamed of being able to see.  I got to see it with my family, and was really only able to go there because of them.  But this was only Part 1 of the Christmas/New Years adventure-time.   (1868 words) 

Kosovo Impressions

This is a blank post to highlight my experiences in Kosovo that I wrote for the magazine, Vagabundo.

Take a gander, if you haven't all ready done so.

http://www.vagabundomagazine.com/kosovo-impressions/

Also, beyond my article, take a look at my friend Zac and his adventures through the region.  Him and his girlfriend stayed with me in September, a part of their journey, overland, from Lisbon to Auckland (mind you, there is some water/air travel here.

A Turkish Christmas, part 1

I will first apologize for the lack of blog posts these past few months, things have become slightly hectic. 

Friday, December 21^st, I boarded a plane bound for Istanbul.  What was once Constantinople is now Istanbul, as They Might Be Giants so poetically sang about the largest city in Turkey.   This ancient city, the bridge between two continents, has held a special place in my mind – a mixture of romantic idealism and a love of history.  Besides the city, there were other, better perks of visiting this city for Christmas.  Rhonda and Mark Williams were making their trek across the Atlantic to visit me.  It had been four months, almost to the day, that I had left out of Hartsfield to start my adventure and now I was able to spend the holidays with family.  There was an even larger added bonus, the addition of Melissa Royer, my cousin and close friend, to this all ready rather magical group of people. Melissa is a PCV who teaches English in Romania, she is finishing up here time there this year – she will have put in her complete 27 months and I am blown away by her commitment and drive.  And we cannot forget Jeremy, a fellow PCV in Romania, whom I would become friends with over the next five days.

After an emotionally charged reunion, and a glass of whisky, I headed to bed after only a few hours in Istanbul.  My flight arrived a little before midnight, visas, baggage, finding my driver, taking the trek into the city, and a reunion put my bedtime roughly around 3 AM.  In case anyone is keeping a tally of my bed times.  When I awoke, I started to take in the sights and the sounds of the city.  I think the first thing that I thought of was how overwhelmingly large the city is, and how shockingly beautiful it is as well. 

I had read, coming into this trip, somewhere that Constantinople has aspired to look like Rome.  In this pursuit, it strove to build 7 churches on the 7 hills around the city.  I was most intrigued, as I really knew very little about the actual geography of the areas surrounding the Bosporus Strait.  Things that I quickly realized, 1) Prishtina: Istanbul like Appalachians: Rockies; 2) a base number of 13 million people is unfathomable; and 4) being a tourist, after so long of trying to be a native, can be pleasant and therapeutic.  (If you started looking for the 3^rd thing that I quickly realized, don’t be ashamed.  I called it the greased pig technique)

 I will start with the first one:

1)      Prishtina has hills.  The same way the Appalachians are mountains.  However, Istanbul has hills.  Our hotel was at the bottom of such a hill, and every morning it was a nice, pleasant trip up that said hill to get to the main parts of the city.

2)      We came to Istanbul during the low season.  There are still 13 million people in this city.  13 million people compared to the 5 million in Atlanta is daunting, now add the fact that I am living in a city of 600,000.  It was crowded, I felt jostled, and I had similar feelings, at times, of being at a Dave Matthews concert, in terms of crowd size.  Was this upsetting?  Of course not.  It added to the mystique of the place. 

3)      I hate being a tourist.  But it’s a nice relief at times.  Everything in moderation, I suppose.

So Mom, Mark, and I set off out to do a bit of exploring before Melissa and Jeremy arrives that evening.  It really took a lot to even get my mind to absorb the scenery around me.  We tried not to see too many of the “sites”, but more tried to get a feel of the town.  The biggest thing about the place is that everything is grand.  Apartments, grand; Mosques, grand; The Grand Bazaar, well it was aptly named.  The one thing that I truly learned about myself during this trip is that I have a huge fascination with Arabic letters.  This is something about how the calligraphic nature of it all really adds to this sense of flow; it is like perfect cursive but on a whole different level.  As we wondered the city and the day waned, it was time to locate and find Melissa and Jeremy.  This is always a fun thing to try to pull off; rendezvous without the flexibility of a cell phone is a little bit of a lost art.  It did give me a perfect “excuse” to grab some McDonald’s, though it was only coffee.  Still, things were a success, considering they had a delay, so we checked it off the list accordingly!

Sunday began the tourist adventures.  We started with the Sultanahmet district, which is the old town.  It is home to of the most iconic buildings in Istanbul, the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque.  These two structures defied my current definition of grandeur.  Hagia Sophia was a culmination of 1500 years of successive enlargements, both Christian and Islamic, to produce this gigantic, living piece of history.  The Blue Mosque (Sultan Ahmed) is the most precise and descriptive name; it is a gorgeous monument to the history and power of the Ottoman Empire and their religion, Islam.  It is very easy to get lost in the majesty of the building; they change the definition of vaulted ceilings.  While a non-Muslim could not enter the prayer area, a vast, carpeted area of the room, it would be thought provoking to lay and look up at the ceiling. Just a moment to soak in the engineering skill to produce something so massive, while still keeping an eye on the most minute of details in the interior design can knock you off balance.  It really is a peek into bygone era of empires and architecture. 

Tape 1 is now complete.  Once tape 2 is ready, be prepared to read more about this trip.