The OXAB Kosovo Exploration Trip Report summarises the findings of that trip. We welcome any and all feedback for inclusion in our Final report; please send any comments to kosovoreport[AT]oxab[DOT]org.uk

‘i dont think so. he’s got chatting to some girl and he looks animated. better leave him to it.’

It is nearing 2am so I thought I would start the Friday blog on Friday. Will and I start to head home after a heavyish night in a bar where all the people we have met over the weeks drink. The only it could be described is ‘like a scene from the Simpsons’ (Brough 2008). Will and start the trekk to home, Edmond Hillary has no idea what an up hill struggle is! Mark is left entertaining some blonde beauty, Will and I do ask ourselves if he will be alright and come to the conclusion that a man who can teach himself Albainian in an afternoon will be fine walking around drunk in a foreign city.

On the way back hunger strikes and instead of getting a kebab, not only an English thing to do but knowing that the kebabs here are sensational, we opt for the pasta and sauce approach. When home we chat and cook, then eat. My god. It was the most horrific taste I have had the pleasure of eating. I force myself to eat as much as possible before my body rejects it. Will does not take the same approach and leaves what he deems to not suitable for human consumption. We contemplate Marks return and hope he has the decency to go back to hers because we have a busy day in the morning and retire and sleep.

Morning hits, we have an 9.30 meeting with the Youth Council Minister. We meet him in the most expensive cake shop in the world! there are amazing and worth their weight in gold but I would not part with 3€ a slice like my lavish compadres. Like everyone we have spoken to he has had enough with how things are and really wants to make a change and sort the current problems out. I think he will. To start with he was a little sceptical about if we could help but when he realised that all we want to do is help, he warmed to us. The meeting went well and the the list of possible projects continues to develop and grow at an unsustainable level, looks like all the students in every uni are going to have to give up a year for OXAB.

After we were off to meet the Director of Youth, who turned out to be ill and we spoke to his assistant. The assistant just said the Director has been rushed into hospital, pointed at his gut and then laughed, well I guess you have to make light of a serious situation! We chatted about the current situation in Kos and where we thought that we could have an impact and the things we should be able to bring. The re-occurring theme came out, he was happy that we were trying but was unsure just how much we could achieve, fair comment. The meeting turned into a touch base and see saw that there were possibility of working with the uni and possibly the youth centres teaching english etc. After another coffee we part to the next meeting, the students of Pristina Uni!

After sruggling around the whole of Pristina Uni for the best part of an hour we get to where we should be and meet the student representatives. One girl is incredibly helpful and guides us in the right direction. However, the man sat in front of us thinks he’s Don Kelliano. He turns up late and thinks everyone should listen to him and do what he suggests. Classic student politics. Well they are all incredibly excited about the prospect of setting up a student based society and getting up links with any uni in the UK. It goes well, as we were 40 mins late we have to apologies and use this as a meet and greet rather than anything solid. We head for the British Council, and meet Fazz there.

We walk in and there is a lions rug on the floor, muskets line the wall, golds from Indian, artifacts from the Americas, the smells from 1000s of different teas. Sadly not. I was hoping for a colonial setting where I was offered a cup of tea that would have been sailed across the seven seas, I did settle for an Earl Grey, so not all was lost. The building was like any modern office block with computers and books and nothing suggesting the empire, I will have to go back a couple of decades for that I fear.

We discuss what we are doing in Kos and the lady informs us that the BC has had a couple of calls saying they have heard there are a couple of Oxford Professors walking around Kos and could they have our details. Chinese whispers? No wonder we managed to meet so many high powered people. We had a joke about that and got back to asking for money really. It was good. We were told there might be a case for us to work with the BC and make sure money was pumped in and then manipulate the projects the way we saw them working. All in all the final meeting went well. But as it drew to an end I think we were all a little sad, the Oxford Profs whistle tour of Kos was coming to a close. We said our goodbyes and left the BC.

When outside we explained to Fazz we were off to Sopje that evening and asked if he knew when the last bus was. He called his mate and found out it was 5 pm, giving us a couple of hours. We then met Fazz’s cousin and Will had to go get a mug. Yes a mug. If we miss the 5 bus then we have to get another €180 cab, but we better get that mug! Mark then starts to mess around with stamps. Only got an hour and a half before the bus goes, loads of time I am assured by the other 2. We say goodbye to Fazz, I can not start to say how emotional that was and get a taxi to the hostel. So instead of agreeing to pay the €2 he asks for we opt for the meter knowing that we are only going 1/2 a mile. Tour of Pristina time. The guy drives us around the whole town and racks up the meter to €3 and wastes about 1/2 and hour. great. Mark then gives him a good telling off in German and we run up to our room to pack like crazy! We get it all together, grab another cab and get down to the bus with over 5 minutes to go, perfect timing! On the bus we meet ……………. and chat to him about the OSCE and how the christmas party was.

Right so we get to Skopje and Mark is like ‘yeah all the cabbies know Hostel Hostel.’ Apparently it is the greatest thing to ever come out of Massadonia. None of them know it. We run around trying to find someone who will take us there, then finally we find a guy. We get there and all is happy, un pack a bit then off to the resturant of our dreams. I should have mentioned this before, the reason we are here is so Mark can take us to the best resturant anyone has ever eaten in!

We get there. It’s empty apart from 8 people up stairs. We look at the prices, Mark frantically starts blaming the falling exchange rate and weakening pound. ‘It’s all Gordon’s fault’ he kept saying. Oh well, at €8 a head i think we can manage. The wines and that’s good. The starters come and they are good. We eat and laugh about the trip so far. We wait and no main course. We wait longer. after an hour and a bit we ask what is going on. The waiter forgot to order the mains. After 2 hours they come out. They too are very tasty. Then the bill, we look at it and convert it to € 79 in fact. WHAT! are you having a laugh? Turns out they are trying to charge us €20 for each bottle of wine after showing us on the menue that it cost €5 a bottle. Only one thing to do. Re-write the bill and leave them the correct amount. So that is what we did! Very funny! On the walk home we chatted about being followed and hunted for the rest of the cash, we were all laughing but I think there was a hint of fear that possibly it could happen.

We get back to the world renowned Hostel Hostel and get into bed knowing we have an 8.30 bus in the morning.

We walk over to the university library, an interesting building with roof shaped like bubbles (that’s the only way I can describe it), and arrive on time for our 08:30 meeting with Arlinda Beka, the director of the centre. There is some confusion at the entrance to the building as the security guard is rather reluctant to let us in, but when we flash out our business cards and cite Arlinda’s name, he grudgingly lets us through.

The careers service is a well-resourced room on the ground floor of the university library (which doubles as the national library). Only the day before we had been to a handover ceremony of LINK from the OSCE to the University. Arlinda offers us drinks, but no Nescafé here - macchiatos and herbal tea all the way. We get down to business and Arlinda is interested in our project proposals and how we could work together with students from the university of Pristina. She understands the importance of volunteering for students’ future career prospects (btw guys - OXAB means big CV points. possibly), and has been trying to foster a greater culture of volunteerism in the university. An idea that we together come up with is for students who work on Oxford newspapers to come to Pristina University to help set up a student newspaper here. This would be hugely beneficial for the employment prospects of both sets of students. Arlinda thinks we might be able to find funding for such an idea. Towards the end of our discussion, informed that his first cup was too cold, Luke is offered some more herbal tea. He politely declines. The meeting demonstrates our rapidly increasing knowledge of both possible projects and cultural etiquette.

After a very successful meeting, we head off to our next stop of the day: KIPRED. Unfortunately we haggle the price up with the taxi driver and pay €2 for the rather short journey to Sunny Hill, arriving just before 10am. The Kosovar Institute for Policy Research and Development is the foremost think-tank in Kosovo. A lot of their work concentrates on building political institutions, particularly political parties, in the new Kosovo. Qemajl and Genc are two of the main researchers for the institute; we have a great discussion with them about their work and our plans. The project here would likely entail promoting the institute and getting recent graduates, or particularly Masters students, to come and intern at the institute. Students from the local University are always interning there so that fulfills that criterion. Qemajl and Genc are keen to emphasise the substantial benefits to the participating Oxford student. In such a place as Kosovo, there are great gaps in research and so it offers a great opportunity for the basis of a PhD thesis or the testing of existing hypotheses, for example. Interns also get to do a lot of work both independently and in a team, and the working language is English. They are gearing up for fresh elections in 2009, which they will monitor in coalition with many other civil-society groups.

The meeting moves on from their offices to the local “Starbucks” in Sunny Hill. The Starbucks Corporation would probably be unhappy about the using of their brand name on this otherwise unassuming café, but this “Starbucks” is much better than the real thing. I can’t think of any chain café that serves macchiatos anywhere near as well as any little place in Kosovo does. The discussion turns inevitably and inexorably on to the question of girls, the default topic of conversation here. They’re a cheeky bunch, these Kosovars, and it’s nice how open in general they are. Even when we occasionally demonstrate an ignorance of the problems they’ve been through, they’re receptive, as well as polite and courteous in putting us in our place. We are informed that Harem is actually a very poor choice of nightclub, and given a long list of alternatives. “Spray”, a club just outside town, comes somewhere near the top of the list. Luke gets talking to the Swiss intern at KIPRED, Jon. He is currently researching financial policy and looking at emerging stable (well.. maybe not so much now!) economies to try and establish which route Kosovo should go down. There really are so many opportunities for research here.

By this point we are flagging a bit as we have had a limited amount of food so far today. KIPRED head off back to the office and shortly thereafter we head on to our next meeting at 11:30am at REC, the Regional Environmental Centre. This takes us some time because roads are rarely marked here, and the REC office itself is accessed via an innocuous alleyway and then up several flights of stairs. After some discussion on the phone we eventually reach Margarita and sit down to our meeting and fourth coffee of the day. This meeting is more difficult than the previous ones. REC, a Hungarian-based organisation established by the US and EC, has been operating in Kosovo for some ten years and has a staff of six in its main office here in Pristina. Even from the sixth floor of this office block the environmental issues are painfully obvious: not too far away are factories billowing vast plumes of yellowy smoke. There would be several problems for OXAB working with REC here. The biggest one is the language barrier: Albanian is the working language in the office. Secondly, the REC do mainly coordination work with other environmental organisations who work on the ground (again in Albanian). Finally, it is quite difficult to establish what other work the organisation does apart from the aforementioned coordination work, and a termly newsletter. Perhaps there could be some scope for helping with project proposals and proof-reading the newsletter. This meeting turns out to be one of the shortest and we leave with a greater sense of how our organisation should work with others in Kosovo.

The time is nearing 1pm and we are all very hungry, having had only one pain au chocolate each thus far. We move to a local bakery, with a great assortment of quiche, ‘pizza’, cake and pastries, and have a very tasty lunch for only a euro or so. Luke and Will are however not satisfied by this and we move on to a local Qebaptore (kebab) shop for the standard meat and bread.

We head back into town for our meeting with Kosovo Stability Initiative (IKS). The ride back down to the centre, on the meter, costs only €1.65. The meter is obviously the way to go. We go and sit down in a café/bar down a side street near the Grand Hotel and order orange juice and beer. At this point half an hour before our meeting, disaster strikes: KSI ring to cancel. The director apparently had to go to Skopje; they will have to reschedule. Crestfallen at this, our first significant setback, we consider our options before our meeting at 4pm. Should we go to our Internet café, or go back up to the apartment for an hour and a half’s rest? In the end, we stay in the bar. Will and I begin to flag, after so much coffee and an early start, and I decide that Luke’s example of 2pm beer is the way to go. Will chooses the stronger alternative of Red Bull. The beer sorts us out immediately, and we sit in the bar reading random fragments of promotional material from the various centres we’d visited, for another hour. At 3.30pm we decide it’s time to leave for our meeting at 4pm.

We have a brief walk up along Mother Teresa Street and then head back to the orange Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sport building. Here we meet Ilir Hoxha, the Director of the Youth Development Project. The YDP is a World Bank-financed project running youth centres across Kosovo, with the specific aim of empowering young people and encouraging volunteerism and greater activism in civil society. Ilir seems really enthusiastic but also particularly keen to understand the benefits as well as the problems of the YDP as it currently stands. It seems like we could really work with this organisation which is quite exciting. Ilir schedules a meeting for us tomorrow with the YDP resource hub at Pristina University, so we can have a look at an example of how the centres operate.

Following our very interesting meeting with Ilir we are all quite tired but have one more meeting left for the day, with Guri from SPARK, a Dutch-based organisation aiming to improve entrepreneurialism and help businesses get going, particularly for young people. We meet Guri in a small, well-hidden bar down several side streets off the ABC Cinema street with all its trendy bars. This bar is itself rather trendy but also looks a lot like someone’s front room! There is an assortment of vintage chairs around the room, variously occupied by regulars who all seem to know each other. Throughout the evening, it is like an episode of the Simpsons where all the characters come together and you see all the different people we met with during our trip. It was really rather surreal.

Guri gives us some pointers as to what we should watch out for when dealing with these organisations, who’s good to work with and who is not so great. It is always very useful to get more opinions, especially as we’ve only been here for two weeks and are just getting a feel for the place! Around 1830 our local friends come over to the bar to meet us. Conversation is still rather difficult and the language barrier is ever-present, so I end up just going through pictures and trying to explain things from them, Will is having a bit more success though. This is something we obviously need to bear in mind when sending volunteers over to the projects! But hopefully the tie-up with the University of Pristina should help.

Towards the end of the evening we bump into another woman from Balkan Sunflowers, apparently she’s tried to get in touch with us via info@oxab.org.uk and there was no reply..  We seem to have had a similar problem emailing info@ generic international institution but in this case it seems like there must be more of a problem because the emails are literally just disappearing. So sorry to anyone who’s tried to contact us in this way! Balkan Sunflowers seem to be a really interesting organisation and she says she’ll get in touch with us before we leave Kosovo tomorrow.

Mark, who by now is developing the nickname of Mr Macchiato, is unable to get out of bed. When I say unable, I mean unwilling. The order of the showers today is such that he is the last to emerge from bed to face the world in which we have a busy day scheduled.

We know we have a coffee meeting (and what meetings in Kosovo aren’t coffee meetings?) at 0930, but we are only stepping out of the flat door at 0905. This means we have to be extra quick today at the bakers to get our pain au chocolates and/or pain au jams (as we refer to them).  Today we ask for all chocolates, but as Luke discovers in a cruel game of Russian Roulette we have a rogue pan au jam in the mix.  We cross the road in the usual non verbal negotiation with traffic at the zebra crossing. It seems in Kosovo, pedestrians know to stay on the pavement when it would be inconvenient for a car to stop, but otherwise cars slow down enough for pedestrians to cross, and sometimes this even means that they stop.

We’re running a little late to meet Faz when we spot the café which is the place of our rendezvous.  Faz is late too, fortunately.  We discuss the previous day’s events and despite the early morning are enthused to talk about out latest ideas and our planned meetings. Faz also informs us that we have a meeting set up with the Provost of his University.

After a quick macchiato we are forced to quicken the pace across town to get to the OSCE Headquarters for our first meeting of the day.  We arrive just on time and get security checked by the guards who are by now beginning to recognise us as semi-permanent features of the building. We are met by woman from the “Assistance Department”, a vague title indeed. She is very interested to find out about what we are doing in Kosovo, and how we are proceeding as students since she has only stopped being a (much more advanced) student herself. We leave the cafeteria (on one of the top floors with a fantastic view of Pristina), and although it seems as if again we don’t have directly related interests, we are able to gain valuable contacts who we are set to meet later in the day.

We again have to rush across town to make a handover ceremony by the iconic Grand Hotel (not in it mind you).  The University of Pristina has recently created a Quality Assurance body under the guidance of the OSCE and today is the handover.  We are also here to meet the manager of the LINK centre which helps the students of Pristina University find jobs. The handover ceremony is bi-lingual in Albanian and English with the relevant translation being provided via headphones with a wireless link. I notice we are some of the only people using the headphones during the Albanian presentations. It seems as if we are already becoming part of the Pristina higher education “scene” because we meet the tall chap from the OSCE we had met the day before. We only get a chance to arrange a meeting for the following morning (and at 0830, Mark gets into trouble from Luke who points out the difficulty we had in getting to a 0930 meeting).  We also receive a call from Amsterdam after meeting the Kosovan SPARK representative, which helps small business in Kosovo. There is a lot of food on large plates with a copious supply of canned fizzy drinks piled in one corner. We stay for as long as possible, as does another group of men opposite us on the large tables arranged into a large square with paintings on the wall.

By now it is time to get back across town to a restaurant near the OSCE, it has also started to rain, which is not good for the group of us not with umbrellas and wearing smart shoes in a hope to impress. Now these smart shoes are becoming progressively more muddy and wet as we are forced to walk around cars which are parked on the pavements (which seems to be the most common place to park in all of Kosovo).  We arrive at the “De Rada” restaurant and are directed by men in French waiter outfits to a table for about 5 with a man and a women sitting on the table. They look at us with slight bemusement and we quickly establish that they are not who we are supposed to be meeting.  We again question the waiter who comes to the conclusion that we must mean the “other De Rada” which is outside and down the street. He helpfully shows us the way. I can’t help but think of the scene in Monty Python and “The Meaning of Life” where the camera follows the French waiter out of his restaurant and into the countryside although we don’t go nearly as far with this waiter.  After sitting down at this place (a pizza restaurant rather than a café) we finally decide to go back to the first De Rada where we find the woman from the Kosovo Woman’s Network waiting for us. After explaining ourselves we sit down to another macchiato and discuss the problems facing women in Kosovo. We hear how the laws are already in place (for example UNMIK copied family law from Germany), but that it is not being put through in practice. We hear about how the network conducts research, generates public interest and organises workshops and protests.  Our contact says she only sleeps 5 hours a night which is believable since she called us at 10pm from the office the previous night.  Although the scope for projects here is limited, we are definitely able to offer our powerful networking and publicity skills to Kosovo Women’s network to publicise the internships they run for internationals (subject of course to OXAB committee approval).

We part ways and battle through the rain to our favourite internet café where the computers were charmingly slow as usual (it took an hour to upload a facebook album).  We leave just in time to walk to the Regional HQ for the OSCE in order to meet the team responsible for Podujevo. When we arrive we are greeted by a young OSCE staff member with brown hair, about Luke’s height and with a faintly surprised look on his face.  We soon find out from the other OSCE staff member that they were expecting to meet Oxford professors, not students. However, we soon establish a good rapport and there are interesting and exciting ideas on both sides of the table. We immediately get on which is real bonus in these things.  We try to pay for the macchiatos but fail once again.

It’s still raining when we meet Faz in order to take the taxi to the Provost’s house (not his office we find out). The taxi takes only 15 minutes before it drives up an unmade track: seemingly in the middle of the countryside with the typical half built buildings lining the road. We soon arrive at a huge house which is on the left hand side. We stop and pay the taxi.  Faz informs us that 3 families reside in the building, but we are still very impressed. We all wait with anticipation as Faz rings the bell. A small boy runs down the stone steps to open the door which leads into a cold but dry room with a stone floor which could be a well equipped garage but instead has many pieces of large artwork. We climb some stairs which brings  us to a large internal courtyard with neatly trimmed grass and impressively lit pieces of art on display.  We climb some more steps where the child shows us into the house. We are provided with slippers and walk into the marble floored hallway.  I am offered slippers too, but they appear to have a heal and are far too small so I opt to walk in socks instead. In the lounge the Provost greets us, a tall and slender man with glasses and a beard, black hair and well into middle age.  Even though there is a subtitled South American soap on TV (playing quietly), he listens attentively our presentation having given us a fruit juice delivered by the small boy.  Our conversation is translated by Faz, although the professor seems to talk for a long time before giving Faz a chance to translate, I am amazed that he remembers how he started.  We are then invited to drink Raki, which has a pear in the glass bottle.  The taste is nothing like the liquid we bought under the name or Raki in the supermarket the week before.  We carry on talking for a while, and as we have come to establish good relations, we consider the meeting to be a success. Before we go, we are invited up three flights of marble stairs to see the art room in the top of the house with some life size figures of extra-terrestrials.  We are given a brochure and a DVD each before we go.

Faz informs us that it is only a 20 minute walk to our apartment which we find hard to believe because we are in the countryside and our apartment seems so much in the city.  However, Faz is correct once again and despite the cold and wet weather we are happy but tired at the end of the day.  We once again go to the shop to buy vegetables (and are still unclear as to how to differentiate between peppers and chillies) and beer.  But this time, we are exhausted and head toward an early bed after discussing some of the ideas we have had over our tasty dinner.

Mitrovice: A Frozen Conflict

The bus from Pristina arrives at the central bus station. The bus station has no electricity inside the probably once impressive building. The place smells pungently of urine, so much so that we think the lakes of liquid covering the stone floor may well be the source. Fortunately, we have no need to stay and walk toward the centre of the town and the Metrovica bridge. We’re passed by the usual hum of Kosovan traffic and there is steam rising from the sides of the street where the kebab houses, patisseries, and shoe shops form the backbone of the street economy.  These shops die away as we approach the bridge.  There is a large UN compound surrounded by razor wire and high metal fences on the right hand side. On the side of the road is a man taking away the number plates of his car.  Mark approaches the guard and asks if the situation is calm today: we intend to cross if there are no incidents reported today. Another man is called from inside who speaks fluent English. He says that the place is “a time bomb waiting to go off” and gives strong advice not to cross to the other side.  However, he gives us the information that the situation is no different today to how it normally is but that violence can happen “at any time”.

The bridge itself is now in sight. It’s a new looking four lane road bridge, with an obvious architectural intent to make it look nice. The bridge itself is empty except for two Kosovo policemen and a French lookout post flying the French and NATO flag on a nearby building.  We approach the policemen in order to get an up to date report of the situation. One policeman, about five feet nine, with kind looking eyes, but armed with a Sig handgun and CS gas on his waistbelt claims to speak a little English. In fact he’s got much better English than that.  He’s keen to know our nationality and what we are doing. He says that if we are not with an international institution, and have no necessity to cross there is a strong chance that we’ll be taken away for questioning by the security forces on the other side, or worse, by the paramilitary hardliners who watch the bridge twenty four hours a day.  It is a certainty that we’ll be followed wherever we go and our nationality will be a problem.   He says that “Not as a policeman, but as a friend, I tell you not to cross”.  We talk for a while, and ask about his experiences and what he is allowed to do on the other side which is not much. He once drove his car to the other side only to have it vandalised.  He claims that Serbs are safe to cross to the south and do not face intimidation. At this point a car with Serb plates drives freely into the south seemingly validating this point. No vehicles with “KS” number plates have crossed to the other side and none do in the time we are on the bridge except those turning left along the river road.

We ask where the jurisdiction of the southern side ends. The policeman points to the (Serbian) flag which flies on the far side. We make the decision not to cross into the North but to walk to the flag.  Traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular is very light.  A KFOR jeep and OSCE 4×4 cross whilst we’re on the bridge and two pedestrians also cross. We take photographs. As we approach the north a policeman (probably from the north, but we can’t be sure) tells us that we cannot remain on the bridge for longer than a minute and tells us either to cross or to return. We have already decided to return and the incredibly tense atmosphere has not changed our mind.  For the first time politics is more than simply discussion by men in suits and students over beer.  In north Metrovica things are real; and there’s no better way to describe it.

We walk back across the bridge and chat again to the policeman on the South side. We get along well and we all shake hands when we part ways.  At a newsstand barely 50 metres from the bridge some French soldiers are bartering and joking with the store owner.  Although I’ve seen similarly armed soldiers in Gare du Nord, these soldiers are obviously armed less for show and more for necessity.  I ask in broken French whether it would be possible to have a photograph with them. They pause and look in the direction of their NCO who is standing a little back. “Oui” is the response and so we take a couple of photos, very similar to the ones of the Carabinieri we took outside the OSCE in Pristina.  This time however we say “Merci bien” rather than “e tutto, grazie!”

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.

Once we’d taken some time to recover from this trauma, we walk down to the city centre for our meeting with Arbena from UNICEF. The meeting point is right outside the Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sport (MKRS). Fortunately, we gave ourselves plenty of time, because our journey ends up taking a lot longer than planned: we walk to each end of the main pedestrianised strip, Nina Tereze (Mother Teresa), looking for the big orange building that Fazz told us to go to. It ends up being right in the middle, a building which we had immediately dismissed earlier in the day. In the meantime, we go to the Parliament building at the one end, and the Grand Hotel at the other, where the concierge helpfully (but inaccurately) directs us up the steps to the first floor of the hotel, in broken German. We are promptly told that, no, the Ministry is not on the first floor of this hotel. It’s just down the road. Still, we get to the meeting point ten minutes before our scheduled time. I suggest that we get an espresso to help the conversation move more fluidly, but my idea is unhesitatingly shot down by my colleagues.

Arbena is a very nice woman from Macedonia who has worked for UNICEF in Kosovo for about a decade. She takes us just round the corner to a small restaurant called Soho, where we sit down for an extended business lunch. We start out by presenting ourselves, who we are, our history, and our plans for Kosovo. She follows by explaining the great scope of the work that UNICEF do in Kosovo. We discuss how we might be able to work together - possibly by sending interns to work at UNICEF Kosovo (although we would have to properly structure this internship), and also by sending volunteers to work at centres around Kosovo, the contact details of which she agrees to send us. We then turn to the by now standard discussion on ethnicity and nationalism, the two hot topics on which everyone has something to say here. We begin to learn of the great gulf that separates the ethnic groups here: even after eight years, community relations, particularly between the two main ethnic groups, are tense and fragile. The Roma group is another one that faces particularly discrimination and poverty (a story repeated throughout the Balkans and the rest of Europe), partly because some Roma joined the Serbs in the 1999 war and others the Albanians.

Shortly after 2pm, we thank Arbena for meeting us and head off to meet Valbona from SDSF, at XIX restaurant, near the OSCE. It should be noted that XIX is pronounced “xeex”, rather than 19; without this helpful hint from the guidebook, who knows what could have happened. We arrive a bit early for our 1430 meeting and get started early on the macchiatos, digesting and discussing the previous meeting. After only five or ten minutes, Valbona arrives, flanked by two colleagues from her organisation “Shpresa & Shtëpitë e Fëmijëve”, or SDSF. Her organisation seems really interesting and something that we all felt we could contribute to. SDSF is based around a family home which takes in up to 12 children at a time. All the children have come from particularly difficult and sensitive circumstances - often victims of trafficking or abuse. SDSF takes in children from across Kosovo, and with absolute indifference to ethnicity or statehood, as was evinced by the current composition of their centre. For the children, they provide clothing, education (through local schools), pocket money, and above all, loving care and attention.

In the past, volunteers from Ireland have come and helped to provide such individual care and attention, along similar lines to the way OXAB currently operates in Bulgaria and Bosnia. SDSF’s funding is currently under review, but if they are still provided with funding after February 2009, we would hope to be able to send volunteers out from the summer. We certainly hope that this funding is forthcoming because the work that the centre provides seems to be invaluable. Recently, SDSF sold two old cars with the intention of buying one new one. However, Valbona took the decision that it would be better to refurbish the centre and with help from local businesses, she carried out work valued at about €20,000 for something like €5,000. This shows that there certainly is a significant volunteering culture in Kosovo which we need to tap into and help to nurture.

After an hour or so, we leave the meeting buzzing with the potential for cooperation on this project. At this point we get a sudden brainwave: as we’re opposite the OSCE headquarters, why not pop in and ask for a meeting? We had tried this last Friday at UNMIK with no success, but this time we have something else: Arbena from UNICEF’s job title, “Communications Director”. Armed with this secret password and our business cards, we go into the OSCE’s reception and ask to speak with the aforementioned job title. The receptionist (he was more of a guard, actually) put us on the phone with the Deputy Spokesperson of the OSCE headquarters. This is a bit too high up for us so we are passed down to Blerim, the OSCE’s Director of Higher Education for Kosovo. We briefly outline who we are and what we want - mentioning all the buzzwords, including Oxford University, 15 years’ work, in Pristina until Friday. Blerim agrees and the meeeting is set for 9am the following morning!

Chuffed at how easy the whole process was of getting a meeting with such a renowned international institution, we head over to our Internet café just off Bill Clinton Blvd. There are certainly cheaper and more conveniently located places in Pristina but OXAB’s loyalty knows no bounds. We set up lots more meetings for later in the week and write up the blog. At this point, an recognising the fact that we had been in the Internet café for quite a while, we decide to head back up to the apartment. We stop off at supermarket no.1 at the top of No. 1 Tetori, the thoroughfare that we use to get down to the city every day. The map incorrectly marks it out as a main road; in actual fact, it’s (mostly) a one-way street with copious amounts of seemingly reckless drivers. The standard purchase is yet again spam, tomatoes, peppers and onions. We get back to the apartment, cook, write up the projects from the day, and arrange yet more meetings for the coming days. With our early meeting at the OSCE the next morning, we head to bed, satisfied with the day and looking forward to the rest of our busy week.

New Years' Concert

We’d been up late the night before; Luke had suffered more with his shot of JD inside his pint (it’s how Finns drink apparently).  We leave late with plans only to make more plans because there is nobody to meet on Sunday.

We take the liberty to take more photos than usual on our way to the centre. We stroll down the steep hill through a park rebuilt by the international community.  Luke and Mark get increasingly annoyed at the number of photos as I snap away, but they relax in the end through sheer perseverance.  We miss our standard bakery trip and go in search of food in the centre.  We walk by the University of Pristina, but many of the bars and cafes are closed.  However, cafe Bosna is open, and there is therefore a clear opportunity for a hearty meat and bread lunch.

The cafe is not cold thanks to the gas fired almost blowtorch contraption which is roaring away next to the large gas canister.  We order kebabs for lunch.  We get given two sauces. One is obviously tomato ketchup and the other is in a yellow container which may well be mustard or mayonnaise in the UK. I shake this over my food, but quickly realise it’s oil. Luke confirms it’s unflavoured and we all wonder why anyone might want to add more oil to something which has so much oil already!  The bread, as always, is like a large pita bread but thick and filled with grilled meat.

We discuss our plans for the following week over a customary macchiato and make a large list of people to get in contact with the following week. We have learnt our lesson from attempting to “talk to the UN” and decide that an approach of contacting individuals or at least guessing their title is the correct way to go in order to get more potential projects. We even use the guidebook to get some names.

We get a text from our Kosovar friends who are at a bar on the other side of town and we decide to go for another macchiato. We arrive at the large coffee bar which always has young people sipping macchiatos and chatting or reading magazines. This could be anywhere in Europe, and in fact there is much to recommend these cafés over those in the UK.  For a start the coffee is much better and cheaper!  We meet our friends who we chat with for an hour or so, we communicate mostly in English but get taught some Albanian too.  We have an interesting conversation surrounding identity and what a Kosovan might be and how Serbians might be integrated into this identity.  Again we get the abrupt Albanian ending to meetings, which is perhaps refreshing but also always quite surprising.

We notice Agroni and Lu, the brother and girlfriend of Faz, walk into the coffee bar we are in. We go over to say hello and they invite us over. We chat for a while about what they are up to and their experience of English tuition. Agroni expresses an interest in going over a few issues, and I get a chance to use some of my English language teacher training. This means conversation moves slower, but it really feels as if he’s making progress.

We are then asked if we would like to go to a concert at the national concert hall. Naturally Agroni knows a soloist who is singing in the concert. We gladly accept and walk across town and beyond the “NEW BORN” sign unveiled with independence a few months ago. These are large yellow metal blocks covered now in public art and graffiti and used by children as a climbing frame, although this seems a rather dangerous activity.

We meet Agroni’s friend who is wearing black tie and appears not to be too concerned about his upcoming performance.  We sit in the concert hall which is lit by interesting fixtures above, light bulbs connected with pinkish tubes although it seems as if not all the bulbs are on.  We sit on stackable chairs which are arranged in rows, but even these in combination with the balconies is not enough to accommodate all those watching and there is standing room only for the performance which might have come from a classical music top 20.  Tracks from Carmen, Tosca, Trubadur and more are played with many different soloists taking the stage. The quality of the full orchestra is undeniably good and it is filmed by state television. New Year is celebrated after a count upwards to eleven in German. The attitude of the audience is somewhat more relaxed than in the UK with applause at moments which are considered extra good and one man in the row in front even is able to answer his phone!

Although we have not done as much as we had done during the week we are still tired so after we part ways we walk back to our apartment. We buy food from the local shop and Mark cooks. We are still unable to tell the difference between chillies and peppers and it also seems as if they are not separated in shops either.  Regardless we have a good meal and retire to bed early in order to be ready for the busy week we had planned during the day.

 We eat the chocolate buns and progress to what we thought was the bus stop, we waited and nothing happened. Unsure we walked further down the road. Causally parked half on and half off the pavement was a man shouting ‘Podejeva!’ Will and I assure Mark that ‘it will be fine. He looks nice enough.’ We hope in and wait. The driver tries to make some last minute sales by shouting at people as they walk past, sometimes he uses the surprise softly spoken attack, luring people into a false sense of security so they are seduced into going somewhere they didn’t originally think they would. It costs us a euro each and we get to Podujeva.

We meet Fazz, Agroni (Fazz’s Bro), Lu (Argoni’s girlfriend) and another cousin for a coffee. We are presented with art and exhibition catalogues that are outstanding. Fazz had talked about the quality of work his artists produce but I had no idea just how amazing it was going to be. ‘Fragile State’ exhibition really illustrates and reflects the people’s emotions about the political situation in the country. Using steel left over from weapons a face was created by one artist that is terrifically horrific. It really showed the mutilation capabilities of war and the exposure people had to the events that took place – I suggest that you try and get hold of the ‘Fragile State’ booklet to see what I mean.

After the coffee and the art talks we were whisked off to Fazz’s mum’s house for a traditional Albanian lunch. The house itself was an art exhibition. I forgot to say that Agroni is an artist, Fazz’s father paints, so does his uncle and all to an incredible standard. It was amazing to see it all. After 10 minutes the food started to come. Soup, then a plate of cheese and pastry, bread, chillies and tomato, yogurt and all in vast quantities emerged from the kitchen. A feast fit for kings. We chatted about the customs of Kosovo, how to behave at the table, what was acceptable in bars, that sort of thing, in an attempt to look cultural. We ate and ate and ate. I was curry full, ready to pop and when the fire got going it was perfect napping conditions, so I lay back and took 20 minutes out of my day to rest my eyes.

After the food Fazz suggested that we go and see his uncle’s art studio. A classis eccentric artists hang out. Up a track and in all alone so there were no distractions, perfect for focussing his thoughts and getting the art just how he wants it. When we went the sun had set and there is no electricity, so by paraffin lighting we saw some of the works and established that only Will and Fazz would be happy to live there. Mark and his OCD would not last a week! Then we came across some shells, tank shells, large solid steel tank shells that were found and picked up. Once again we were reminded of the conflict, it is now hidden and but does occasionally show its face. It was a very sobering experience. But as they say life goes on and now there is much to do, so all we can do is agree and take that same approach, much healthier if you as me then dwelling on it.

After the mini adventure we got a lift back into Podujeva and the bus back to Pristina, we all fell fast asleep and woke up just in time for our stop. Being lazy and because of the rain we got a taxi. Back in the hostel will messed around then Yole, a Fin was on the computer outside our door so we invited him in. Yole was travelling to Istambul to meet his brother. We went for some food in a café, luckily Mark didn’t choose or we would have been thousands out of pocket. We spoke about the reservation of the Finish and the difference between the two countries education systems, all very high level stuff for a first encounter, but that is what Mark seems to like, cutting the small talk and heading to the head of social problems, much more interesting than ‘isn’t the weather lovely.’ We then got onto cycling and Mark, Will and I all agreed to go cycling around Finland sometime this summer! It turned out that Yole used to be a cycling courier, which not only makes him slightly insane but also an absolute hero in my mind.

We moved bars and Mark and Will got talking to an international policeman from the UK. As Mark introduced himself, saying he was from Birmingham, the bloke replied, without a hint of sarcasm, ‘are there any white people left there?” oh great, that is one way to uphold the multicultural aspects of the UK. They were both taken back by the comment and did not pursue any more conversation with him. After that we then discussed the problems of ethnicity and identity, something that you really can’t get away from in Kosovo, people see themselves as Serbian, Albanian, Kosovan, or a mix, a perfect opportunity for someone wanted to do an incredibly interesting dissertation! Once again time flew past and before we knew it 4 am had approached.

We walked back to the hostel and all fell asleep with new ideas, realisations and problems that are faced all over the world. .

Meeting with Afrim at Handikos

We got up fairly early and after the customary pain au chocolats and broken discussions about payment in the local bakery, we headed into town for our 11am meeting with Handikos, 20 or 30 minutes outside the centre, near Hajvalia. It was fortunate that we gave some time for this journey as we accidentally went the wrong way and had to double back.

Handikos is an organisation founded in the 1980s, aimed at advancing the situation of and attitudes towards disabled people in Kosovo. It has had some success: as its director Afrim told us, Kosovo has significantly better attitudes towards and provisions for disabled people than is the case in other countries in the region. Nevertheless, it really is still an uphill struggle: Handikos manages 13 centres across Kosovo with just €150,000. While Kosovo has pretty good disability protection and support laws, the reality is that enforcement and implementation is often much more patchy. Most ramps that you see in the Pristina are as a result of Handikos’ work, for example. Disabled people in Kosovo get a ‘pension’ - a term Afrim dislikes - of just €30 a month.

We are constantly reminded of the importance and significance of community in Kosovo. Without large families and a tradition of neighbours helping neighbours, life for the disabled people here, while still very tough, would be that much harder. Handikos has a big network of volunteers to help people, particularly in rural areas where the problems are that much more acute than in the big cities. The centres also work with people spanning the ethnic divides, which seems somewhat unusual here, given the strong feelings between the communities. At the same time, the ethnic Serbs only come to the centre in Pristina in the evenings, after ethnic Albanians have left.

We are shown round the large centre on the outskirts of Pristina, overlooking the city on a hill. It’s a spacious building with lofty ceilings and large glass windows giving a view of the surrounding area. This is all very well but it also makes it very expensive to heat during the winter - and with such a small budget, funds are tight.

Afrim wants to underscore the importance of stability. He is of course grateful for the support that he has received in the past from international organisations, but points to the necessity of long-term giving. The vehicles in the centre in Pristina are a very good example. Several international organisations have kindly donated cars and vans for them to use, but there is then no support for the long-term costs of running these expensive vehicles - money for fuel, drivers, insurance and taxes. If OXAB commit to support organisations like Handikos, we need to ensure not only that we can do so for an extended period of time, but also that we are actually helping.

We leave Handikos with a greater sense of the problems that institutions like Afrim’s face. We walk 5 minutes down the road to the bus stop and just as we approach, a bus helpfully pulls in! We jump on the bus and take the the 40c journey to the bus station. The bus station itself turns out to be slightly out of the centre (not far - nowhere is too far in Pristina), and on the 20-minute walk into the centre we pass a Kebab restaurant, very common in Kosovo. At only about €1.50 for a tasty and filling meal of kebabs and tea, we leave very satisfied.

We wander back into town and decide it would be a good idea to get UNMIK, the United Nations Mission in Kosovo, on board with our proposals. We walk up to the UN compound in the centre of town and explain ourselves to the guards. Satisfied, they allow us to pass stage one and move on to the receptionist, stage two of the security apparatus. We wip out the business card and briefly explain what we do. Unfortunately, she asks the killer question: who do you want to talk to? Our reply is less than impressive. “Erm, you know, just someone at UNMIK. Who do you think we should meet?” There are three main problems with this response. Firstly, she doesn’t know. Secondly, UNMIK is quite a large organisation. Thirdly, EULEX is taking over many of its functions, so we should really be speaking with them. She provides us with their address - they don’t yet have a phone number, having only started on Tuesday - and after (unsuccessfully) attempting to palm off a business card in case she bumps into someone suitable, we leave.

By this time, it’s getting late and so we head back up to the apartment to drop our things off. Afterwards, we head back down to the centre and meet Fazz at Caffe Z, a small and comfortable place near the large ProCredit Bank building. (It’s actually between that bank and another Raffeissen Bank; banks and mobile phone companies seem to be ubiquitous in Kosovo.) Caffe Z has leaves in the table, under the glass top.

The first order is a round of large Peja Beers and Coke for Fazz. Peja seems to be the only Kosovan beer in Kosovo, but it’s very good which is just as well. We discuss our developing ideas about OXAB Kosovo being a partnership between Oxford and Pristina Universities. Five students (say) from each university go and work together on projects in Kosovo. This seems to be better than just sending Oxford students, because it helps break through the language barrier, skills can be exchanged between the two groups of students, and hopefully a greater (and more continuous) culture of volunteerism will remain in Kosovo after the Oxford students go back home. Satisfied and agreeing with our revolutionary plans to change the world, Fazz heads back to Podujeve, and we carry on with the Pejas in Caffe Z. We were initially under the impression that between 1700-1930 it would be happy hour at 50c a beer; in fact it turned out to be 50c off the €2 price for half a beer. We carried on anyway.

After several beers and making new friends with the waiter Vlla, we head out to another bar in town, Caffe Kontra. Unfortunately and shockingly they have stopped serving macchiatos by this point so we settle for Pejas. At this point Will goes over to a group of girls (and boy) and asked where they are heading on to. None the wiser we end up walking round the Palace of Youth and Sport to an underground (?) club called Harem, which really is like it sounds. Lots of exposed brickwork, drapes hanging from the ceiling and Middle Eastern music. We dance rather awkwardly and unsuccessfully for a while before heading back home ready for another day.