-Monday, 25 December 00--
I worked all morning, finally cutting into a pile of unknown work that had been waiting for some attention, wondering what I would find there.

Mary Venner invited me for a late Christmas lunch and when I arrived I found Mike Ives several others there. It was pleasant to sit and chat and eat. I nice quiet way to pass a Christmas.

Not only is Kosovo a former Communist place but it is mostly Moslem so I was surprised by the amount of Christmas decoration that was about, at least in Prishtina. Here too, most everything of poor quality but there is a bit of spirit in the air. Perhaps part of that spirit is the fact that Ramadan, the Moslem month of penance and fasting during the daytime ends the day after Christmas. A number of the staff actually fasted and asked if they could come skip lunch and leave an hour earlier.

The day after the end of Ramadan is called Bajram or Eating. Every family has big meals in the middle of the day and it is a major day of celebration. Food-wise, it appears to be the local equivalent of American Thanksgiving. The most common thing you say to people is "Me fat Bajrami" or 'Lucky Eating Day."


--Tuesday, 26 December 00--
Work today but at a slower pace than recently.

When I returned to the CFA, Smile was in the lobby, he told me that we had agreed last night to meet at 10 AM so he had waited 50 minutes for me.

We left the building and walked to the Iliria Hotel to buy tickets for New Year's Eve. At 100 DM per ticket, I felt that this had better be good.

In the evening I worked hard on my emails again and got the number to be responded to down to thirty. Then I worked on my computer desktop and read and filed a lot of documents.


--Wednesday, 27 December 00--
"Me fat Bajrami!" or "Lucky Eating Day". Today is the first day after the end of Ramadan so it is the first day in the last 28 that observant Moslems can eat during the day. As it is treated here, it is the biggest food day of the year.

I finally got to attack the pile of paper that I had not been able to get to for months. With almost no interruptions, I made good progress and got a lot of dead issues filed and got the others organized for tomorrow

I have been redirecting Customs deposits to the one commercial bank in town in order to finance a heavy volume of payments. The payments are made by fax wire to the bank where the sums are transferred to vendors that have bank accounts. This significantly reduces the amount of cash walking around Prishtina which is a major security issue. Since the bank charges nothing for this service to it is very cost effective as well.

At 2 PM today I got a call from my contact at the commercial bank that the expected shipment of Customs cash intended for them was sitting outside the BPK. "Could you do something?" I had to since the BPK, operating on its own schedule, was closed.

I called the Police and requested an escort and they agreed without so much as a complaint. I asked if it might help if I went to the BPK and the Police Operations Manager, said, "Yes, some parental supervision might be useful." So I high-tailed it to the BPK to make sure things went smoothly.

For a closed bank there were a number of people there and we had discussions but since they were closed with the vaults locked they could do nothing for me so when the police arrived we brought the money to the commercial bank which was open.

Nothing is simple in Kosovo.


--Sunday, 31 December 00--
For days there has been a slowly growing crescendo of fireworks. Small pops like pistol shots and louder bangs like rifle fire. By today these explosions were coming from all over the city and sounded like an army wandering around and firing aimlessly into the air. I was later told that there was a lot less fireworks this year than last since the police had gone into the marketplace and confiscated all the fireworks they could find but they sure did miss a lot -- and last year must have sounded like a battlefield at the very height of the struggle.

The effect of the first light snow on the view from my apartment.

Smile, Kimeta and I celebrated New Year's Eve together at the Iliria Hotel. They wanted to go early, I preferred to go late but I was out-voted and we met in the registration area at 9 PM. "And don't forget your camera!" Smile said more than once.

At 8:30 I went out to get a bus but there weren't any. No cabs either. I had just reconciled myself to walking when a car coming in my direction slowed and stopped. I didn't recognize the woman in the passenger's seat but the driver called out to me and he was Guzman. He offered to drive me to the Iliria and I accepted. He will be going to the Grand for the evening.

Smile and Kimeta arrived precisely on time (they got a nephew to drive them) and we went into the festively decorated dining room. Kimeta was dressed up to the nines in a burgundy gown and had tastefully applied every kind of make up known to civilization. (I noticed a clear plastic strap on each of her shoulders. I also noticed the same kind of strap on another woman at the party. Is this the new thing?) Kimeta had sprayed her shoulders and hair with glitter so she sparkled in two senses. Smile was dressed in gray slacks and a gray sport coat, a white shirt and a gray and white striped necktie. He looked at his best.

I found out later that Smile had spent 300 DM on his outfit and financed it by persuading the shop owner to take 30 DM a month. Kimeta's dress was a one-night loan from a relative that owns a woman's boutique.

The band was playing and playing much to loud for my taste -- but I know that would be the case before I bought the tickets. The band always plays too loudly -- it must be a standard clause in some international musician's contract: "The minimum volume of the band must be at least loud enough to render conversation at least extremely difficult or, if possible, impossible."

So Smile, Kimeta and I sat at a table, leaned toward each other and shouted "What?". When the band took a break, a husband and wife team did a little show and everyone seemed to enjoy them. I did get one joke translated: A American, a German and a Kosovar were talking to God. The American asked God when we would have a base on the moon and God said, "In 100 years." The American wept, saying that he would never live that long. The German asked God when all Europe would be united and God said, "In 200 years." The German wept because he would not live to see it. The Kosovar asked God when Kosovo would be independent and then God wept. This got a grim chuckle from the crowd.

The rest of the evening consisted of seven courses of very indifferent food, as much Slovakian beer as I cared to drink (and I did care to drink a lot), line dancing (more than one dance went on for longer than 20 minutes), and some singing from a talented man who Smile assured me was excellent. The tunes were traditional Albanian ones but because the instruments (clarinet, drums, and two electronic keyboards) were modern, the sound seemed less oriental that the tapes Smile has played for me.

At about 1:30 I had had enough of a good time and was going home. Smile even accompanied me home in the cab to be sure that nothing happened to me.

So a New Year began.

Joe