like every morning we struggle to rise up out of bed… we had a meeting with the OSCE (The Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe) so we were all excited about meeting an organisation that rivals UNICEF in terms of size! got down to the bakery with the usual order of a couple pan a chocolates and mendander down.

suddenly Mark and Will realise that we have no idea what to talk to OSCE about. Securitisation? By now Mark has got into the habit of asking for ‘logistical and technical support.’ However, on each encounter he is calling their bluff seeing as none of us have any idea what it really means.

When we get there we are put through the usual surrendering the passports, scanning, the usual jokes about ‘Baghdadi’, and proceed up stairs. We meet klement, blerim and another OSCE associate. Coffee time for all. we go through the repetitive speil of how heroes aren’t born on trees, in essence we are selling the brand ’save the world’.  The OSCE have a couple of potential projects that we could send students to but they don’t really have that many people on the ground so not sure how much we could work with them. Mark asks the common question, ‘can we use your logon on our website’. They all look at us as if to say, ‘is that all you want?’. Will being the saviour of the day interjects and says ‘on specific projects that OXAB are involved with’.

The meeting is tied up  and all the pleasantries are run through and we part ways… now it’s off to Mitrovica. Will we venture into the north? who knows.

We walk down to the Pristina bus station, have a last minute wee, find the correct bus and all board. Joking that we only need a one way ticket, spirits are high and we are all making jokes about what we are getting ourselves into. Hero Will is talking about how he wants to save lives and is excited about the trip, he’s so dreamy.

We drive pass several run down factories, go through the country side, steel communist artifacts and finally the bus stop, South Mitrovica. We walk into town, the feeling is tense. I am not sure if it is all in my head or if it the people around us that are all on edge. We walk towards the bridge, dividing North from the South, and talk to some police. They suggest that we don’t cross over, if we have no reason to be there then there is not point in taking the risk. We walk on and get to the bridge, all winding each other up about how it might kick off at any point. Will is sure that he will cross, Mark and I are a little bit more hesitant. We get to the edge of the bridge and chat to another bobby, Kosovan this time.  He repeats the same thing, ‘as a friend I am saying don’t cross.’ When we asked if it was safe he said, ‘right now it is but you never know and at any point it could become a war zone.’ For the first time I felt like a lad on tour, frozen conflicts are pretty laddy if you ask me. We have come this far, the tension is building, and we all really want to have a look at the other side. We decide to cross, we are told that it should be fine as long as we don’t go past the Serbian flags on the other side.

We take the first couple of steps onto the bridge. There is bar wire all over the place, cars with no number plates, police litter either end, Will then whips out his camera and suddenly the tension dissipates as the phone shoot begins. We all document the occasion, making light of the situation is always the best thing to do. We get to the other side, bordering the North, a couple of police come up to us and tell us to get off the bridge, and tell us that we are not allowed to just walk up and down for fun, either come over or go back. We decline the offer to join them in the North so retreat down to the safe South.

After saying good luck and goodbye to the friendly police we go to get some post cards. We bump into some French soldiers and ask to have photos taken with them, such a friendly couple of people. They all pose and we stand by them as Will clicks away (think they should be on the blog by now). We then walk around and hunt for some lunch. We have kebabs, these aren’t just any kebabs though, they are good, i mean really good. Drenched in Mayo and Ketchup, fantastic. So, feeling content with our lunches, we head for a caf to make sure that Mark’s caffine levels don’t fall below critical. We get in and speak English, probably a mistake. Two groups of lads just stare at us. Apparently they are speaking Serbian and don’t like the Americans or English, I don’t know why. We stick it out and stay for the drink and a chat but not much longer.

After walking around for a bit we and decide to head for the bus. As we get down the main street we pass a bakery, I can’t remember who thought let’s pop in but Mark wanted a peice of cake and that means that Marks having a piece of cake… great idea if you ask me. We sit and eat and chat to the baker about the situation and he tells us about how it is the Serbs that are making things hard for them in the South. He explains why the English and the Americans are respected. We eat up and pay, amazingly somewhere near the going price.

Ask we get to the bus we all decide to make one last minute toilet stop, see the WC signs and think quids in. So we walk into this cave, it is the bus shelter but nothing like I have seen before. There are no lights, it is cold and moist, and the smell, well you can’t imagine sitting there in the warmth of you room but I can tell you it was an experience. The best things however was having to pay for the privilege. Genius.

We get on the bus and we follow procedure. All asleep within the first twenty minutes and don’t wake up till Pristina.

Getting off the bus and feeling groggy we head for the Maxi, supermarket, and search like hunter gathers to fill our stomachs. We walk past a counter with a clear shield guarding it, we see body after body of animal, and start to get excited. The guarding warrior looks at us knowing that he trade will fair well and that he has ample supply of food to sell the excess for blood or money. We agree money would be best and get some small meat shaped discs. We leave with the meat, a couple of cakes and about 15000 wafers.

Going home we stop off at the local shop and grab some tomatoes, chilis and beer. The shop keeper know the routine so he no longer helps us weigh anything… feelling like a local now. We get back, cook, discuss the days events, Will insists on discussing feelings, how exciting the potential projects are, and after a wile head for bed.

Tags: Kosovo, OXAB Kosovo Exploration Trip