The Millennium Cross, set atop Mount Vodno, overlooks the city of Skopje. It is illuminated at night, and can be seen from almost everywhere in the city.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Vodno Cross
The Millennium Cross, set atop Mount Vodno, overlooks the city of Skopje. It is illuminated at night, and can be seen from almost everywhere in the city.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Orthodox Easter
This past weekend was Orthodox Easter (they work on a different liturgical calendar). Justin wrote about the traditions here, so I'll just mention a few things that interested me.
Easter Eggs- Justin explains, they also make Easter Eggs here, and they can be quite elaborately decorated. The interesting part is what they do with them. At midnight, after the priest finishes reading the Gospels, everybody pulls out their decorated egg and cracks it - bottom to bottom, and top to top - with their friend or family member. The egg that does crack 'wins', and moves on to challenge the next egg. This is apparently the highlight for Macedonian children, and brings them great honor at school the next day. There's a lot of cheating, unfortunately - some children purchase and decorate carved wooden eggs in order to decimate the competition.
Candles - I went to the main downtown church, which always draws a big crowd. The Roma were selling candles at the street corners near the church. You pick up a candle, and either light it from the main candle inside the church, or from another person who has done the same. There's a legend that, if you put the leftover stub of wax underneath your pillow that night, you will dream of the person you will marry. Also, Macedonians don't know the words to "This Little Light of Mine", and don't seem to appreciate a little gospel in their Gospel.
MEAT - The most amusing part of the whole evening is the rush to break the Lenten Fast. A great majority of people don't fast at all; some will cut out all meat, dairy, oil and alcohol, others just one of the above. And they may only fast for a shorter period within Lent. Nonetheless, Macedonians refuse to let an opportunity for grilled meat go to waste, and just after cracking the eggs, everyone rushes off to get that first delicious plate of sharska or kebap. The restaurants are open until 3 or 4am, and mobile meat vans set up around the city as well. And, of course, some people overdo it:
A 47 year-old male ended up in hospital on early Monday morning after a long night of festivities, overindulging in three kilos of meat and ten eggs to mark the end of Orthodox Easter fasting.
Happy Easter.
Easter Eggs- Justin explains, they also make Easter Eggs here, and they can be quite elaborately decorated. The interesting part is what they do with them. At midnight, after the priest finishes reading the Gospels, everybody pulls out their decorated egg and cracks it - bottom to bottom, and top to top - with their friend or family member. The egg that does crack 'wins', and moves on to challenge the next egg. This is apparently the highlight for Macedonian children, and brings them great honor at school the next day. There's a lot of cheating, unfortunately - some children purchase and decorate carved wooden eggs in order to decimate the competition.
Candles - I went to the main downtown church, which always draws a big crowd. The Roma were selling candles at the street corners near the church. You pick up a candle, and either light it from the main candle inside the church, or from another person who has done the same. There's a legend that, if you put the leftover stub of wax underneath your pillow that night, you will dream of the person you will marry. Also, Macedonians don't know the words to "This Little Light of Mine", and don't seem to appreciate a little gospel in their Gospel.
MEAT - The most amusing part of the whole evening is the rush to break the Lenten Fast. A great majority of people don't fast at all; some will cut out all meat, dairy, oil and alcohol, others just one of the above. And they may only fast for a shorter period within Lent. Nonetheless, Macedonians refuse to let an opportunity for grilled meat go to waste, and just after cracking the eggs, everyone rushes off to get that first delicious plate of sharska or kebap. The restaurants are open until 3 or 4am, and mobile meat vans set up around the city as well. And, of course, some people overdo it:
A 47 year-old male ended up in hospital on early Monday morning after a long night of festivities, overindulging in three kilos of meat and ten eggs to mark the end of Orthodox Easter fasting.
Happy Easter.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tirana
(The parliament building sits George W. Bush street)It's also full of candy-striped pink buildings, fortress-like apartment buildings, Mercedes-driving fruit vendors, and the most chaotic public square I have ever scurried across. Welcome to Albania.
The most striking thing about the city is easily that all of the buildings are painted in bright pastels. The mayor, a former professor of art, thought the city needed a little brightening up, and . . . well, see above. Communist block apartments, Italianate mansions, brand new construction - all of it is bright pink, green, purple or blue, and it's actually really beautiful.
Taking inspiration from Tirana, I suppose, there are a lot of these bright, gaudy buildings scattered around ethnic Albanian areas in Macedonia. They seem very much out of place among the gray, drab Yugoslav apartment blocks. But when the entire city is painted like an Easter Egg, it works. Who would have thought?
Albania also just recently joined NATO, which has been really important for this incredibly pro-American country. Before visiting, going only from news reports, I had no idea how they had reached that point. Just over ten years ago, the entire country collapsed into anarchy as a giant investment scheme wiped out virtually the entire GDP. The United Nations had to send in a stabilization force to restore public order. Now, the city is full of well-kept parks, clean streets, and modern steel-and-glass buildings. The area surrounding former Communist dicator Enver Hoxja's home is a hip bar/club/cafe district. There are some really fantastic restaurants. I could have been wandering around a pleasant downtown area in almost any European city. NATO accension made much more sense.
On the other hand, a good 100 kilometers of the road leading to Tirana was more or less a one-and-a-half lane village road. The electrical grid is prone to frequent collapse, as every pole has a spiderweb of illegal lines draining power from the main powerlines. The river flowing through the city is little better than a sewage drainage ditch, and the sewer system overall is in desperate need of upgrades. The water isn't all that safe to drink. Albania has the highest rate of traffic fatalities in Europe, and believe me, I now know why - and I think it deserves a separate post.
Overall, though, Eric and I were both incredibly impressed with Tirana. I plan on returning as soon as possible to Albania - beyond Tirana, there are some really spectacular beaches, archaeological sites, mountain villages, and all that great Balkan stuff. A few more pictures:
\
Kolonat: I think Tirana is the only major European capital without a McDonald's - Skopje has three, plus another in Tetovo. Instead, they have 'Kolonat' which, as you can see from the 'broken arches', is a Bizarro-McDonald's. The setup, the advertisements, the Happy Meals, and the decor all stand in blatant copyright infringement. And they serve pizza and beer.
UFO University: This is a major Albanian university on the main square. It's pronounced "Yoofoe", and is an acronym for something in Albanian. Unfortunately, they don't have a paranormal studies department.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Book Review. . . Again
My book review for "A Brief History of the Late Ottoman Empire", originally featured here on Balkanalysis.com, has been re-. . . re-whatever the digital equivalent of 'reprinted' - here on BalkanTravellers.com.
I'd appreciate it if you would visit the sites to build up the traffic.
I'd appreciate it if you would visit the sites to build up the traffic.
I should mention. . .
. . . that Gjorge Ivanov won the second-round presidential elections. There was no violence, low turnout, and most people expected him to win anyway. I think the strawberry-scented air-fresheners pushed him over that critical threshold of support.
Macedonian Drivers and the Social Contract
After numerous near-death experiences on the roads, highways, and sidewalks of Macedonia, I was inclined to believe that Macedonian drivers were the most dangerous and reckless people I had ever seen behind the wheel. Cars park and drive on sidewalks, form extra lanes on highways where there shouldn't be, and regard stop lights, signs, and other traffic signals as vague suggestions, at best. Traffic police on the highway are a rather pathetic sight; they wave a sign at you to pull over for random checks, but most cars tend to blow right past them.
But lately, as I've grown used to Skopje traffic, I've developed a new respect for Macedonian drivers. It's my Ameri-centrism acting up again. Our country was built for cars. Our spaces are clearly defined: ROADS ARE FOR CARS. NO PEOPLE ALLOWED. We happily buzz along at 60, 70, 80 miles an hour, fairly secure in the knowledge that there's probably not going to be a herd of cattle or a family of seven wandering across I-75. We just throw the transmission into 'drive', put on the cruise control, and attempt to stay awake in the air-conditioned bliss. Let's face it - in our strip-malled, box store and gas station suburbs, if there actually is a pedestrian at a cross walk, and we are forced to wait two seconds longer to make that right turn, we get angry. Why are you walking here? This is a road! Get a car!
European countries - especially urban areas - were not built for cars. Most interstate highways in Eastern Europe are relatively recent affairs - Skopje's ring road isn't even complete yet, while Belgrade's was finished only recently. Roads are constructed on a human scale, and the spaces aren't clearly defined. Cars park all over the sidewalks, people walk down the middle of the road. Cars share the highways with scooters, motorcycles, donkeys, wagons, tractors, and other Road Warrior-style contraptions cobbled together by the Roma. The cars are much smaller - a decent size car here would be a Honda Civic hatchback, and there are older Zastavas, Yugos, and Fiats that are so tiny they could be featured in a Shriner parade in America, should a portly older gentlemen be able to fit inside.
The benefit of all this - and the hardest thing for an American to grasp, I think - is that this personalizes traffic. At 60 miles an hour in a tinted-window SUV, you are completely isolated, oblivious. If you run over something smaller than a beagle, you won't notice it. And other drivers? You might see them at stoplights. But when you're at a light-less intersection in an oversized Hot Wheels car, you interact. You wave to the driver on the left to go on, and the driver on the right sees this and uses the opportunity to turn himself. You ask for a cigarette from the passenger in the next car at a stop light. You can talk, wave, point, and other drivers acknowledge and react. It's like pushing a shopping cart through the aisles of a grocery store.
We view cars as giant speeding metal death boxes, with which you can only interact if you are in your own giant speeding metal death box. That's just how it is in the States. I carried this mentality with me to a traffic culture that is vastly different, which is why it all seemed so chaotic and frightening. And, honestly, it still is pretty chaotic and frightening, and it would take a lot for me to drive here. But at least I can acknowledge my own bias.
But lately, as I've grown used to Skopje traffic, I've developed a new respect for Macedonian drivers. It's my Ameri-centrism acting up again. Our country was built for cars. Our spaces are clearly defined: ROADS ARE FOR CARS. NO PEOPLE ALLOWED. We happily buzz along at 60, 70, 80 miles an hour, fairly secure in the knowledge that there's probably not going to be a herd of cattle or a family of seven wandering across I-75. We just throw the transmission into 'drive', put on the cruise control, and attempt to stay awake in the air-conditioned bliss. Let's face it - in our strip-malled, box store and gas station suburbs, if there actually is a pedestrian at a cross walk, and we are forced to wait two seconds longer to make that right turn, we get angry. Why are you walking here? This is a road! Get a car!
European countries - especially urban areas - were not built for cars. Most interstate highways in Eastern Europe are relatively recent affairs - Skopje's ring road isn't even complete yet, while Belgrade's was finished only recently. Roads are constructed on a human scale, and the spaces aren't clearly defined. Cars park all over the sidewalks, people walk down the middle of the road. Cars share the highways with scooters, motorcycles, donkeys, wagons, tractors, and other Road Warrior-style contraptions cobbled together by the Roma. The cars are much smaller - a decent size car here would be a Honda Civic hatchback, and there are older Zastavas, Yugos, and Fiats that are so tiny they could be featured in a Shriner parade in America, should a portly older gentlemen be able to fit inside.
The benefit of all this - and the hardest thing for an American to grasp, I think - is that this personalizes traffic. At 60 miles an hour in a tinted-window SUV, you are completely isolated, oblivious. If you run over something smaller than a beagle, you won't notice it. And other drivers? You might see them at stoplights. But when you're at a light-less intersection in an oversized Hot Wheels car, you interact. You wave to the driver on the left to go on, and the driver on the right sees this and uses the opportunity to turn himself. You ask for a cigarette from the passenger in the next car at a stop light. You can talk, wave, point, and other drivers acknowledge and react. It's like pushing a shopping cart through the aisles of a grocery store.
We view cars as giant speeding metal death boxes, with which you can only interact if you are in your own giant speeding metal death box. That's just how it is in the States. I carried this mentality with me to a traffic culture that is vastly different, which is why it all seemed so chaotic and frightening. And, honestly, it still is pretty chaotic and frightening, and it would take a lot for me to drive here. But at least I can acknowledge my own bias.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Macedonian Dogs
An embarrassing admission:
When I met my first trained Macedonian dog, responding to commands of "Sedni!" or "Zdravo!" or "Chekaj!", a part of me thought, "My God. This must be the smartest dog in the world, to understand these Macedonian commands!"
When I actually put thought into it, I realized that the dog probably wasn't bilingual in English and Macedonian, as I had originally thought.
This is the subconscious rot of English linguistic imperialism.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Spring?
I now understand why the Macedonian word for 'Spring' basically translates to "pre-Summer". Four days ago, it was sunny and clear and crisp. Three days ago, it was warm and muggy and cloudy. Today, I woke up, and my apartment was just hot.
Not much has bloomed yet, so most of the city looks gray and dead. The sky is gray and oppressive as well, and has swallowed back up those beautiful mountains. And since the city heating system is still running, my apartment is hot. Very hot.
I think this is just a taste of the infamous Skopje summer. To that I say: I spent a summer in Tempe, Arizona. Bring it on.
Not much has bloomed yet, so most of the city looks gray and dead. The sky is gray and oppressive as well, and has swallowed back up those beautiful mountains. And since the city heating system is still running, my apartment is hot. Very hot.
I think this is just a taste of the infamous Skopje summer. To that I say: I spent a summer in Tempe, Arizona. Bring it on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)