Once I got home from school Mark and I ate a quick sandwich and then hopped in a taxi with Zude (Mark's fave taxi driver) to go to the bus station. We just missed the 5pm bus so we grabbed a "yay for the weekend" beer while we waited for the 530.
The bus was mostly empty which was nice. It took us 5 hours to get to Pristina (was supposed to be 3.5-4) but the bus had to cross the border which meant the agents boarded our bus twice to check each of our passports individually. On the flip side, we FINALLY have a European passport stamp. YaY!
Our unit has not one but two huge doors. They are super hard to open and Mark spent a good 7 minutes jiggling, wiggling and fadiddling to get us in.
Here's a fun fact as we continue on our Kosovo accommodation tour: the building is heated by steam radiators controlled by the city. Even though it is 45 degrees tonight, the city has opted not to turn the steam on (WTF?!) so our options are to: 1) burn matches all night long in hopes that they will provide enough warmth, 2) run as fast as we can back to the bus station and pray that there's another 5 hour bus heading back to Tirana tonight, OR 3) use a space heater that's competing against the building for the esteemed 'eldest' title. I was very aware of the potential hazards of choice 3- old wiring coupled with an even older space heater, so when Mark dozed off to sleep I was wide awake keeping an eye on the glowing orange monster next to our bed (I blame you for this, dad!). Rewinding to a bit earlier in the evening: we were given some good dinner recommendations but by the time we were able to get out and about it was already 1130 so we went to the route 66 diner right next door. It was packed. All the locals must know about the whole "no steam in the radiators" thing and are choosing to ride out their night at the diner and we figured, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. The burgers weren't great but the fries were pretty good and the heat was spot on.
Good news: our space heater didn't catch on fire. Bad news: someone across town wasn't so lucky. How do we know? Because this morning we were looking out our window at billowy smoke clouds rising up out of an old building. Seeing this made us want to get up and out quickly, but just the thought of showering turned my lips blue (escaping out of the bedroom and running to the toilet in the middle of the night only to be greeted by a seat that could've easily had icicles hanging from it was definitely not on my list of top 10 things to do at night) so I decided to be smelly sally for our Saturday excursions. In hindsight this was the right choice because Mark came out of the shower with too many stories to tell.
Today our plan is to explore the city-- Kosovo is celebrating 10 years of independence so there are some special exhibits to see. Right outside of our apartment is the famed "newborn" sign which is a staple in Pristina. The sign was erected when Kosovo first became independent. Because it is the 10 year anniversary, if you look closely, you'll see that the 'b' has actually been changed to a 10. We snapped a pic and then obviously, first things first, breakfast.
We headed to Tiffany, a traditional restaurant Mark's friend Lavdi recommended. We wandered around in the beautiful fall weather but couldn't find it and heaven forbid we ask for directions (such a guy thing!)
We walked down the street to a really full but beautiful outdoor coffee shop (it is the albanish way after all). I had a delicious mint tea and Mark had an espresso while we planned our day.
Our explorations started with the clock tower. It's one of the three oldest "buildings" in Pristina. Sadly, it's been given a graffiti makeover. Legend has it that many of the towns in the balkan region have clock towers because long ago the citizens were too poor to afford watches or clocks so they used the tower in the city centre to tell time. Many of the towers even had bells that chimed on the hour.
We continued along to the ethnographic museum which was by far my favorite part. We stumbled upon it accidentally (it feels like you're walking into someone's backyard) but lucked out because the curator was there so he offered to give us a tour. He was a wealth of knowledge. We learned about the prominent neighborhood family who lived in the house but eventually ended up moving to Turkey. During the time the house was occupied it was customary to have chairs that were incredibly low to the ground. There were only 9 chairs around the low table and the rest of the people were expected to sit on the floor. There were big chimneys because fires were the only source of heat. The most impressive part to me however was the large guest house. The sitting room in this house was massive because the family accommodated many travelers, making sure they always had a place to sit, eat and rest their head. The curator also shared stories about his time as a refugee in Albania while the war in Kosovo was taking place. These are the stories we don't read in books or learn about in school but we should. These are the stories of families being separated, being forced to flee their homes, being unsure of if or when they will be able to return to their country. These are the stories that are impactful, thought provoking and sobering, and these are the stories that should be told.
After leaving the museum we wandered through a local bazaar that had a bit of everything from fruits and veggies to home goods to beautiful traditional clothing. By far the best find were the wooden, handmade cradles that are traditional for Kosovar babies to sleep in.
I noticed a shop on the outskirts of the market called Republic of Tea so I hurried Mark inside. I've been searching for quality tea since arriving in Albania but had yet to be successful (I missed the memo that Albania's a coffee country, not a tea one) To my surprise, Republic of Tea was really a gentleman's club with one standard black tea and communal sugar bowls. We looked around to see that all of the other men were taking the spoons out of their hot tea, dipping them into the sugar bowls and then putting them back into their teacups. We looked at one another and figured, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
After our sub par tea experience we needed a little excitement in our lives. What's more exciting than going to a mosque? How about going inside of a mosque you're not supposed to enter. Womp. Womp. Would've been exciting, had this been the case, but it wasn't. Prior to our trip Mark sent me a Kosovo blog to read. I read on the blog that the mosque was one of the most beautiful buildings to see in Pristina and that it was fine for people of other faiths to enter. Mark doesn't trust the internet so he insisted on texting his friend Egzon (a Pristina local) to settle the matter. Egzon verified my info so we entered the mosque and were struck by it's beauty. We don't have any photos to share out of respect for those who worship in the mosque, but I do urge you to enter a visitor friendly mosque if you ever have the chance because the experience is worth it.
Want to know the best part? Later that evening we met up with Mark's friends, Lavdi and Egzon for dinner. It came out during dinner that the Kosovo blog I happened to be reading was Lavdi's (a local Kosovar) AND that Egzon had no idea whether Mark and I could enter the mosque when he received our text, but figured we should try so texted us that it was ok. That'll teach my husband to trust the internet, but more importantly his wife. It also came out during dinner that the city has turned on the steam to heat the radiators (WTF?!) so the system in our building must be broken. hmm... makes sense why the diner was so warm and cozy. We had a lovely dinner catching up with Mark's friends (they studied in Chicago at IIT together).
After dinner we went to a lively bar that looked like it was built inside a renovated house. We tried more local beer and then moved on to one of Lavdi's favorite coffee shop by day/bar by night hangouts. There were tons of books in ENGLISH lining the walls. I was so excited that I made Mark promise we could come back the next day to buy a few.
We parted ways with Mark's friends but decided that the night was cold and young and so were we and that we wouldn't be getting any younger by going home and that we wouldn't be getting any warmer by going home either. We decided to check out a bar called 9 that was closer to our apartment. The bar was hosting a private party but because we were Americans the bartender let us right in. We chose a table in the back because we didn't want any basic bitches busting our butts for breaking into their birthday blowout. The bartender started chatting with us and told us about a club nearby that we should check out. Before leaving for Kosovo my coworkers told me I had to do two things: try the shopping and try the nightlife. We hit up a ton of the discount shops earlier in the day so now was our chance to experience the clubs. When in Pristina, right? The club was on top of a hotel and looked out over the city. The DJ was driving my nuts because he'd play 1/4 of a song and then instead of remixing it into the next song for a smooth transition he would stop the music for a few seconds, find his next song and then pump it through the speakers, only to repeat the process all over again. Mark and I danced for awhile but before long I couldn't handle being thrust into silence mid dance move every 64 counts. We stopped by Route 66 for a bedtime snack before heading back to our frigid apartment. Luckily for us however, we may not have gotten younger as the night went on, but we definitely got warmer :)
We were 2/2 in space heater safety and damn were we glad. We got up Sunday morning and took a few photos of our view (without smoke clouds this time)
Did I forget to mention that in order to get this view we had to exit our bedroom, complete with an AM/FM radio bed and wander through our 1950s kitchen and living room out into a tiny enclosed hallway?
After spending as much time as our cramped legs could handle admiring the city from the inside we headed outside to a cafe with amazing fresh squeezed juices (Mark ordered lemon juice thinking it would be lemonade... nope. it was literally fresh squeezed lemons in a cup!) We both had a hearty breakfast and then sat around for over an hour waiting for our breakfast dessert (the crepes looked decadent!) but because we had to catch a bus back to Tirana we ended up leaving without getting to taste one. Mark and I thoroughly enjoyed Pristina, not only for it's delicious dishes, quaint atmosphere and amazing shopping, but also for the people we met and the stories we heard. It's a small country with a lot of history that's definitely worth visiting.
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