In Prishtina

Finally, I am in Kosovo. During my bus trip from Brussels, with a stop-over in Belgrade, I thought that Kosovo was some fantasy country that didn't exist, only in some faraway dream. But it does, and the reality here seems to be...different than thought before.

It felt a bit strange to cross the notorious bridge in Mitrovica last night. It was dark, everything was moonlit and I seemed to be the only one who was crossing it. Must have been a strange sight to the UNMIK guards that are guarding the bridge. So, after I crossed it, I asked a gentle officer where the bus station on the Albanian side was. He didn't know, but luckily for me, his translator, smoking in a UN vehicle, helped me. "Oh, than you have to walk for about 20mins" With some help from my friend Nazif, who I phoned, he led his nephew (who was waiting for me with a taxi somewhere in Albanian Mitrovica) to me. The taxi was a (should it surprise?) Mercedes Benz (the fashion old one). During our 40 min drive to Prishtina, we had to stop because of a flat tyre. It has to be said, but in less than 10 mins the guy (and his friend who accompanied him) replaced the weel. It was freezing cold and I thought that if had to take care of the same job, my hands would have frozen off (on condition that I would find the wheel to replace).

So, Prishtina, you say. It's weird. It's everything but that that you had expected...and even worser. Nazif's nephew kicked me out in the Velania area, and said that I had to walk for just 5 mins. True, after a while I had found the Bujtine Velania guesthouse. Prishtina was all dark, and the sound of livable emergency electricity generators was everywhere. (My Welcome seemed to be accompanied by a power shut down. Everybody in this town is prepared however, I think that, next to a house, a generator is the second most wanted item in Kosovo.

After an hour there was electricity, so I could use internet. Fair enough, but there was no connection, so I remained quiet, cut off from the outer world. My Mobile phone wasn't also able to send messages or call, but the weird fact that I could receive calls and messages, made me less desperate than I thought I would become.

This is a big test, so. I have to be inventive to contact you, my dear readers. Probably it is easier to send hello to Mars than to Belgium. But we are working on it. I wouldn't become journalist if I would have a problem with this kind of, uhm, how shall I call it...adventure. To myself: Welcome to Prishtina!