--Sunday, 26 March 00-- (Continued)
We were back at the bus at five for the trip back to Prishtina. All went well, including the boarder crossing, until we encountered a traffic jam about 30 km (half way) from Prishtina. The bus sat waiting and waiting. KFOR vehicles of all kinds roared by us on the left lane. Something was up but we didn't know what it was. Finally, I decided to take a walk ahead to see if I could find out what was the problem.

I walked along the road in the dark past 15 vehicles (generally busses towing trailers) all the way to the yellow tape that said I could go no further. I asked each group of people I met, "Do you know what the problem is?" Distilling the various answers, it appeared that KFOR had deported/extradited an ethnic (Macedonian?) Albanian to Macedonia and there was a protest demonstration underway that was blocking the only road from Skopje to Prishtina.

That, of course, made perfect sense so I returned to the bus and explained the situation to everyone only to be greeted with a resounding silence.

And so we waited, and waited, and waited. More vehicles arrived, possibly representing the negotiating units of KFOR. About three hours later, two helicopters arrived and we could see that they were training their spotlights on the event. It was impossible to tell what happened with any certainty but the harsh glare of the spot lights seemed to show something that was either a white gas near the ground or an overexposed set of bushes. Then we could see the outlines of people running up the hill away from the road.

About 15 minutes later we could see cars coming from the opposite direction. Fifteen minutes after that our line started to move, then it stopped, then it moved again, then it stopped and then we finally passed over the bridge where the demonstration had occurred.

An eerie time exposure of a KFOR soldier illuminated by headlights.

I could see fifty to a hundred people on one side of a guard rail and a line of KFOR troops with big, clear plastic shields on their arms on the other side -- but nobody wearing gas masks. There was no active antagonism between the groups that I could see. Apparently the demonstration had run its course -- at least for the moment.

The bottom line is that we arrived in Prishtina six hours after leaving Skopje.


Another Example of the Living Together Problem
At Albanian hospitals Serbs have been denied care by ethnic Albanians. The International Herald Tribune reported in its March 25-26 edition that a hospital had been built for a Serb community of Grachanitsa but it was empty because Serbs won't use it because Milosevich has spread the word that they shouldn't. Bringing some kind of peace here will be a longer, harder and more complex struggle than anyone anticipated.


--Monday, 27 March 00--
The electricity here is very problematical -- the power goes on and off regularly on an irregular basis. In our building, twenty seconds after the electricity goes off, the generator we have behind the building goes on. For shops without generators, it's candles, kerosene lamps, battery powered calculators. Generators create nearly as many problems as they solve, particularly air and noise pollution.

The Lobby of the Grand
As you enter the registration desk is on the left. In front of it is is a series of 3 large dingy carpets, each edged by eight brown Chesterfield "hide of the Nauga" armless chairs and 4 marble-topped end tables.

Further back on the right, the long bar is set in a place where the lobby narrows first and then expands. It recedes from the lobby and from any clean air. It has a regular Albanian clientele and expats gather there and chat about their problems. It sometimes has interesting listening but I limit my time there because the air is so noxious with cigarette smoke. When the weather is bad and everyone is in-doors, you can see the air there.


--Thursday, 30 March 00--
The weather for several days has been very nice; it has been so warm that even cloudy days seem pleasant. When the sun shines, Spring is in the air.

I cut up a part of my Skopje pepperoni into thin slices and brought a bag of it to the restaurant with the best pizza in town. Fjala, didn't have a "plain" pizza on the menu but I ordered one and then said "and put this on it." They had no problem with this and I had a wonderful pepperoni pizza that I had been desiring for weeks.

George had told me about a restaurant/bar at the top (10th floor by American counting) of the OSCE building. I climbed the nine landings to reach to restaurant and was pleased with the panoramic view of the city. I had taken my camera with me and got some good shots of the city.

Of course, I had to have a few Efes beers to calm down my heart palpitations but I survived the exercise rather well, all things considered.


--Friday, 31 March 00--
Americans implicitly believe that is some is good then more is better. So I went back to the OSCE building, climbed the stairs to the (tenth floor) restaurant (huff, puff) to get pictures in the morning light. It was worth the effort in a visual sense. I was able to photograph the air over the city -- you can see the air here.

This evening I went to the Happy Hour at the UNMIK HQ but arrived at 6:45 before the start at 7:00 and there were only two guys setting up a music system. There being no "happy" there, I decided to walk over to the OSCE building and climb the nine stories to the bar. I already had pictures at morning and sunset so this trip was just to see what was happening. (Climbing nine stories to "see what was happening" is a statement in itself about life here.) For Prishtina this was the ultimate happening. The bar and exterior decks were crowded with at least a hundred beer sucking expats. There was much good feeling all around.

I didn't recognize anyone until Maureen Longstaff and Hilary Smith showed up and introduced me to Barents people and others. I was introduced to this person but could not hear the name. All I could think of was, "Boy, he looks a lot like Farhat Farhat, and surprise, surprise, it was Farhat, Farhat! ("The man so nice, they named him twice.") who had been describe to me as "the miracle worker, the man who had gotten Jordan into the WTO in one year." I told him about the quote and he said that I must have been talking to Paul Davis. Farhat didn't preen himself in the slightest.

I told Farhat about what had happened in Turkmenistan and he was quite fascinated with the tale. It didn't seem to surprise him at all. Apparently some things are predictable.

Joe