Verisimilitude

4-7-96
Happy Easter. I am sitting outside THE monastery on a beautiful patch of grass, eating something like ding-dongs, gazing at the snow-capped mountains, hearing a stream, birds, a woodpecker, and other country animals. Not another sound. The sun is shining and I am feeling the monastery’s presence. It’s beautiful and I just had to tell someone.
— Pristina, Kosovo

Just over a decade ago, whilst living in Hungary, my Finnish friend, Pasi, and I took a spring break trip through Serbia, Albania, Montenegro Macedonia. It was just after the Bosnian War, and we were warned to stay away from Kosovo due to the increasing tension and impending war. But Pasi, having traveled in far more unstable areas, was not deterred, and convinced me to go.

As we strolled through Pecs, I remember looking around and finding it curiously lacking in tension, in fact, all I saw was people getting on with their lives the best they can. Just like people everywhere.

4-6-96
..It’s a really quaint town, nestled right at the foot of the mountains. In fact, coming to here, I thought the mountains were clouds, but before long suddenly the clouds became snow-capped mountains. We were walking around town…it had a real summer feel as the sun was setting — I liked it a lot. At the bazaar, as it was closing, people were burning cardboard in fires outside — I loved the smokey scent in the air. A guy and his friend were working atop a roof on a chimney — he was singing a sweet tune. I looked up and smiled and he sang to me. I shyly looked away, but when I peered up again he playfully peaked around the chimney and sang louder. Later we went to a hotel, but had to refuse the room because it was too expensive. But they were soooo nice and helpful about finding us a place to exchange money. When we left, Pasi said, “Faleminderit” to them and the guy smiled this HUGE smile and slapped him on the back. Another great moment.

Not long after our trip, as war raged in Kosovo, I often wondered about the people I met there..how the chimney singer was fairing, how those helpful hotel owners were getting on. As an outsider, even in the thickest part of the impending war, I couldn’t see any evidence of their struggles, which was appropriate, because I could not begin to grasp the complexity of the problems the area was facing.

But I’ve followed news in Kosovo, from when their struggles were headlines to when their struggles became little boxes on back pages. So when I woke up yesterday to news that Kosovo was the world’s newest country, I was thrilled.