Skopje

I arrived in Skopje at 7 pm yesterday, four hours late (stretching my train ride from 16 hours to 20), and so indescribable dirty and sweaty. Being welcomed by the city of Skopje: its pervasive stench of urine, dirty streets, dirtier street kids, aggressive taxi hawkers--would have been overwhelming at best, had it not been for the gracious presence of Aleksandar, my host for the next day. Bojana, a Macedonian IAESTE trainee in Zagreb, set me up like a worried aunt for my trip to Macedonia. I have the cell phone numbers of two IAESTE coordinators in Skopje, her sister in Ohrid (where I will go next), some aunts and uncles and her mother, in case I need any help in Albania, as well as places to stay in both Skopje and Ohrid. Aleksandar picked me up from the train station in his yellow Yugo (into which he folded his lanky 6'2" frame with some difficulty), and took me to the apartment of some IAESTE trainees where I would stay for the night. He then took me for a nighttime walking tour of Skopje, dinner, a walk in the park. Today was more of the same. Though I tried to insist that he need not accompany me every minute of the day, he insisted, taking me to museums, mosques, churches, and enduring my inexplicable fascination with the two fabulous Kenzo Tange buildings in town. "Concrete monsters" he called them, they are part of the legacy of the devastating earthquake in 1963.

So, Skopje. Skopje is, I have no doubt, the least-touristed capital in Europe (or perhaps Tirana will have it beat). Off even the now-beaten track of rough-and-ready Eastern Europe backpackers, I have seen only one tourist here. This is, perhaps, with good reason. The town is hot, dirty, and unspectacular. There are a few really lovely sights: two 14th century Turkish Hammams, a fortress overlooking the city, some lovely riverside cafes, the Turkish bazaar, a 6th century bridge, the birthplace of Mother Theresa, and the previously mentioned Kenzo Tange theater and stadium. The city suffered a major earthquake in 1963, and the reconstruction has been haphazard. The city has no rationale, small cafes squeezed between high-rise apartment towers, empty dirt lots next to sparkling new office towers, and everywhere the stinking dumpsters, the urine stench, stray cats and dogs.

What would have been a depressing city, dusty hot and empty because the shops are closed all Sunday, was in fact a really lovely day of walking and talking with Aleksandar. He told me about his life, two years in the army, how he was wounded fighting in Tetovo in the war against Albania, how he studies Mechanical Engineering and never learned to talk to girls until he joined IAESTE. He was a 'mountain man', a 'cave man' until a few month ago, when he became one of the top 5 students in the IAESTE Macedonia organization, and has now been forced to have regular social interaction with girls. He is leaving tomorrow for the Czech Republic for an IAESTE internship, and to woo a Czech girl he met 7 months ago in Hungary. "If all goes well," he says with a bashful grin, "perhaps I will bring her back to Skopje with me."

In a few hours I shall leave for Ohrid, Maceonia's prime tourist destination, where I will stay with Bojana's sister Ivana. With any luck my postings from the rest of my Balkans Safari will be as frequent as this.