--Monday, 24 April 00-- (A holiday here)
I went to the Parliament restaurant in Dragodan and had a real American hamburger that was delicious. The French fries were only so so. The decor was modern but simple: Blue ceiling, light terra cotta walls. The color scheme was carried over to the table coverings. The menu has a lot of things I want to try so I knew that I would be returning in the future. And the prices are reasonable, only eight DM for the hamburger.

I doubted that Smile would come by and he didn't -- at least not until 10 PM that is. The phone rang and it was Smile. When he got to my room, he told me he was drunk although he didn't particularly seem so. He told me that he had gone to Prizren to see his sister and then had visited a friend who ran a restaurant in Lipian and had had beer after beer. He said that Sabri was down stairs and he wanted us to go out and eat.

In the lobby we met Sabri and walked across the street to his car. We backed out into the evening traffic of Mother Theresa Street and drove north for 3 or 4 blocks until Sabri managed a U-turn and backtracked 3 blocks and then pulled onto the empty sidewalk approximately across the street from where we had started. Net gain: one-half a short block. I guess that long drives for short gains is one more thing that Kosovars have in common with Americans.

We went into the Centrum and Sabri ordered beefsteak and Smile and I ordered chebop. Smile ordered ten and I ordered five. Smile said, "Kelley, have ten!" (Alan always says the same thing.) As it was, I ended up eating only four and sneaking the last one onto Smile's plate.

The dinner conversation was mostly between Smile and Sabri in Albanian. At one point I asked for a translation and Smile told me that he had told Sabri, "Tell me all and I am quiet. Not tell me all and I tell all." Smile loves to listen to gossip -- and to repeat it.

"Kelley," Smiled tortured me, "say something, no zipper lips!" Smile is interested in learning American and wants me to talk to him constantly. It is a testimony to his commitment that he leaves me at a loss for words -- frequently.


--Wednesday, 26 April 00--
George returned. Relief at last.

The demonstration at Mother Theresa and Leninit (now Bill Clinton) Streets.

At work at 7:50 and the streets seemed empty. At 8:30 I noticed that the staff was staring out the window and talking to each other. I looked out the window and saw a crowd of several hundred people formed in a square anchored on each corner of the intersection of Mother Theresa and Leninit streets. A major demonstration was underway and we had had no notice. I thought of last Wednesday and breathed a sigh of relief.

Later when I walked up Mother Theresa Street to the Government building, I noticed that all the shops were closed that there must be tens of thousands of Albanians quietly protesting the fate of Albanian prisoners held in Serb jails. So a sudden demonstration involving large numbers of people had indeed happened.

--Friday, 28 April 00--
Alan Pearson told me that it had been said that the CFA had said that we would not pay salaries of teachers in schools with low enrollments (i.e., Serbian schools). Alan swiftly made it clear, and in writing, that we are a non-discriminatory agency and that salaries are exclusively the responsibility of the Education department. This canard about teacher salaries was said by a co-head (who should have known better) and also came to us in a letter from a municipality.

I bought an International Herald Tribune and a doubtlessly pirated two CD album of George Michael hits. While walking past Kikmi(?) I ran into Tony who asked me what I was doing. We had a beer at the Brooklyn cafe. As we approached the waiter came over to us and, as we were seating ourselves, took my George Michael CD out of my hands and took it inside and played it -- too loud for my taste. We eventually signaled to him to turn the sound down so we could talk.

Smile came by and we had another beer. Eventually Tony excused himself to go to a dinner party, "for which I am ten minutes late already." We went and got haircuts at a barber shop across from the Government Building. Smile insisted on treating me to haircut.

The oddly mutilated KFOR flier.

Afterwards we walked to Sabri's cafe and had a beer there. Sabri had to leave to take his wife to her village but we stayed and talked to his brother. While we chatted an odd thing happened. I had a flier in Albanian that had been passed out by KFOR. In two places on the flier the initials of KFOR were presented in the Latin alphabet over the Cyrillic (i.e., the Russian alphabet which happens to be the same as the Serbian alphabet). I asked Sabri's brother what the flier said and he glanced at it and said that it asked people to turn in weapons to KFOR. As we chatted, Sabri's brother folded the flier and creased it along the middle of the Cyrillic letters and then tore off just the Cyrillic. He rolled the torn part up and flicked it on the ground. He repeated this for the other Cyrillic letters as well. When he was done he handed me back the mutilated flier and never made a mention of it.

Smile and I walked to the Grand where we had one more beer. Smile asked me if I could type his May schedule and we went to my room where I showed Smile how cut and paste can really reduce typing time.

Brian, Allen, Smile and Tony.

When Smile and I were leaving we ran into Tony Preston-Stanley, Allen Maclean & Brian Ahern in the bar. At their request, we joined them and much talk and beer ensued. Smile a social success and even arranged with Allen to have dinner on Allen's last evening in town.

Joe