Kosovo: America's Unknown BFF

Oh heyyy. We last left off with me sitting on a bench in a ‘dayroom’. I am still there. Sleep is elusive. I don’t understand this phenomenon. Maybe it has something to do with the four cups of coffee I drank? Nah, that can’t be it.

I’m approached by a random man from Cameroon. After some small talk, he proceeds to invite me to Cameroon. I politely decline. Why does this seem to happen with surprising frequency?

6am approaches and I’m off to find my gate. Zurich has 5 terminals, with over 60 gates each, and guess what? My flight is leaving from the exact same gate as the last (and only) time I flew through Zurich. It gets weirder. The plane is the exact same make and model as the previous time, and I’m sitting one seat behind the seat I sat in last time. WEIRD. All that's missing are the two sweaty Turkish men on either side of me.

I sleep the entire way. I don’t even remember taking off or landing.

I arrive! Finally, and only one day late. Customs was a joke. He stamps my passport and sends me forward, no words exchanged. The airport is one room with a baggage claim, about the size of most island airports. Since I didn’t have to collect my bags, I exit the airport and am immediately greeted by thousands of eyeballs. Luckily they were still attached to their heads, but it was disconcerting nonetheless.

Seriously though, it’s extremely weird being the only one walking down an aisle with over a hundred people lining it. I should’ve hid in the bathroom and exited when everyone else did. I glance around but don’t see Besir or Professor Jenkins – one of whom was supposed to pick me up at the airport. Figuring I missed them when I was hurrying through the line of staring eyeballs, I stand off to the side and try to look as American as possible.

Ten minutes pass, twenty minutes pass. I try to perfect the “I don’t know what I’m doing but don’t mug me” look, with the hopes that I’ll be spotted by my ride. Ten more minutes pass. Well at least the crowd had clear out. Maybe if I wait long enough, my ride and I will be the only two people left. 

Finally, I see a guy holding a sign. Hmm, I didn’t notice anyone with a sign before. I cautiously approach. It’s a UNC sign! It’s my ride! Oh no, where are you going? Wait, no, don’t go into the airport, I’m here. No, no, wrong way… Damn, he walks fast. There’s only one visible exit, so I place myself at the door to intercept him when he leaves. Yesss, I have him trapped. Try and get away now. Here he comes! No, stop. Make eye contact. No, how did you get by me? Come back here, you.

Finally, I plant myself in front of him, forcing him to look up. “Hi, umm, I’m from UNC..?”  He lets out a relieved laugh. “You’re Alen? I wasn’t sure if you were going to be a boy or girl’. He jabbers on and we head off to the hotel. Apparently he was a shuttle driver for the tour company and had been sent to pick me up. Which helps explain why I didn’t see him, as I was expecting Prof Jenkins or Besir. (That doesn’t explain how I missed the sign though…but we’ll ignore that)

He chats jovially as we head to the hotel. “See that? That’s where NATO bombed.” He says happily. “That there? That’s a statue of Bill Clinton.” He proudly points out the statue and giant poster of our 42^nd president. He also excitedly points out their flag and our flag flying next to each other. “See? We love Americans.”

I’ll admit, I’m a bit shocked. This isn’t the normal international reaction to American tourists. I’m also a bit ashamed to admit how little I know about Kosovo (which of course is entirely my fault as we had reading we were allegedly supposed to complete before the trip…).  Good news is, that within the next few days, I’ll know more about Kosovo than I think anyone would ever care to know, Kosovars included.

Finally at the hotel! Whew, here officially. Finally. As it is still morning, everyone is still sleeping, so Professor Jenkins, Besir (our TA) and I chill in the lobby over that which makes my world go round: coffee.

Later that afternoon, the entire group convenes for our first official class of the summer. Yepp, class on a Sunday. Hard core to the max. At said class, we then begin an exercise in futility, commonly referred to as introductions. Psh yeah, like I’m going to remember 17 other mumbled names and majors, especially when I’m too busy hurriedly practicing silently, so that I don’t screw up my name (ugh it’s embarrassing, let me assure you).

I’m gunna go ahead and summarize the class, for the only purpose of saving you all from skimming the Wikipedia so….

So basically, after Tito died, Yugoslavia started disintegrating like wet toilet paper. And, as is usually the case with wet toilet paper, it came with its fair share of sh*t. We’ll ignore the Croatia, Bosnia, and the other places for now, and stick with the World War 1 instigators: Serbia.

So in the Former Republic of Yugoslavia, Kosovo was this tiny little landlocked region that was more or less considered an autonomous region, and then Serbia was all like “Autonomy? Ha. Over my dead body” and revoked it. Kosovo wasn’t too happy, and like shoves in a bar, it quickly escalated to war. And you can’t have a Balkans War without a solid dose of ethnic cleansing, of course.

Kosovo starts appealing for help, and that’s when we Americans, complete with our oh noble President Bill Clinton, come in. Because, unlike the UN, we actually have bombs and enjoy blowing things up. And we did, through NATO. So that’s how we became the liberators of Kosovo (and how Clinton earned his statue).

But not so fast. Following the end of the war, the UN issued Resolution 1244 which gave Kosovo the right to operate as an independent entity. Key note: this did not mean that Kosovo was independent yet. So the UN camped out on this tiny plot of land, helping to “create institutions for self-governance”. Several years later, in 2008, with the confidence of lap dog beside a pit bull, Kosovo declares its independence.

Yay! Right? Oh wait, declarations don't carry the same fly as they used to, unfortunately. So thus began Kosovo’s everlasting battle for recognition. As of today, it is recognized by 72ish nations (requiring 98 to join the UN) and 22 of the 27 members of the European Union.

Key dissentients:

·         Serbia – duh. It’s like losing a big toe. Not fatal, but annoying enough to make you want to stab the bastard that sliced it off.

·         Russia. Not an EU nation, but if the EU likes it, then Russia must hate it. Plus it provides a great proxy battleground for other, slightly more relevant issues.

·         Spain, Cyprus, Romania, Greece, Slovakia – 5 EU nations with significant regionalized minority populations who they fear will do the same thing as Kosovo

So yes. That’s where we are. Kosovo fighting for recognition, Serbia fighting even harder for it not to be recognized. Though if you are super interested check out this website: http://www.kosovothanksyou.com/

Post 2.5 hour class, we go wander around the nearby streets with a few people. A summary:

·         Despite being a 90%+ Muslim country, everyone is dressed in tanktops and skirts. Well, not the guys, but yeah.

·         I got three scoops of ice cream for 90 Euro cents. I’m in heaven.

·         Everyone is so young. 90% of the people I see are under 30. I don’t know if they have a young population or if I’ve been hanging out with too many old people, but it’s really throwing me for a loop.

·         Blond hair is not uncommon, destroying my mental image of eastern European stereotypes.

As this is still the part of the trip where we all still like each other, we all head out to dinner together. All 18 of us. Accompanied of course by Besir and his girlfriend, the only ones who can actually speak Albanian. (The rest of us are boring white Americans). For dinner, Besir’s girlfriend, a Pristina native who also studies at UNC, takes us to this hidden restaurant with no name or menu. Apparently that’s how you can tell it’s a good restaurant. The more hidden and the less you know about it, the better it is.

They serve us a giant, multicourse, buffet-like dinner of many traditional Albanian dishes. See?

It was quite delicious. But as I had been living off of coffee and airplane food the past 3 days, my stomach had shrunk to anorexic levels and unfortunately couldn’t eat as much as my eyes wanted me too. Though I did enjoy the music playing. You know, traditional Albanian classics like Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Upon return to the hotel, I proceed to pass out, zombie style, in an ever so graceful facedown still-dressed manner.

Well that’s it for now, folks. Tomorrow we start our visits to the international organizations!!!