Kosovo

I unfortunately don’t get to see as much as I’d like when I travel. In fact, except for students’ faces, dinner and a walk nearby, and my hotel room, I see very little. That said, I’m not a passive traveler sitting around each place I go to. In fact, my job at this stage is to interview candidates for our exchange programs in the US. The great thing about this is that they’re an interesting representational sample of each place and region I go to, and there have been a few notable trends in each of the towns I’ve interviewed in. To stipulate, we generally try to get a feel for our candidates’ interests and perceptions, tolerance and curiosity. However, we don’t ask about racial or religious preferences. Further, we ask whether their parents support their participation.

So what have been the trends? In the town of Vranje, Serbia, several students seemed overly interested in hip-hop and black America. Many said they would like to see blacks and get to know them. In another Serbian town, students spoke of the major intolerance of their country—the hooliganism, intolerance, and resulting violence. (Related xenophobia even led to a French football fan being dragged out of a café in the middle of the day in Belgrade a few weeks back and beaten to death.) Lastly, in Serbia, several students said their parents were divorced. This is quite unusual in this part of the world (though less so in cities), but I was in an unusual part of the region—the mixed Bosniak-Serb town of Novi Pazar. From what I’ve gathered, students’ parents were married before or at the start of the Balkan conflicts (1992-95) there, and as a legacy of Yugoslavia (many people having taken on a “Yugoslav” national identity) and pre-ethno-nationalist political rhetoric. Unfortunately, the war between Serbia and Bosnia tore people apart. Old prejudices were resurrected (or fabricated?) and relationships with friends, neighbors, spouses became subject to political, religious and ethnic disputes. Who’s Christian/Muslim, Serbian/Bosnian? Tragically, likely other family members in this strong kinship-based society pulled couples apart, and thus their children (our student candidates, born between 1993-95) suffer the burden of life without one of their parents at home.

Even worse though is the situation for some where I was this past week. In Prishtina and Prizren, Kosovo, I heard at least half a dozen (if not more) students say they’d lost their fathers. While we never ask why, I spoke to my colleague and driver there, both who said that it was the stress of society, and perhaps more so the 1999 conflict and its aftermath that have made life very tough in Kosovo. Indeed, most of these young deaths are cancer, brought on by stress as a result of unemployment, vices (primarily nicotine, alcohol, and caffeine in this part of the world), a lack of exercise, and the resulting feeling of no integrity, no doubt. I do hope and believe that this next generation who we’re interviewing will change things though. With Euro-Atlantic integration, visa free travel, better education, and stamping out corruption, I think the Western Balkans will see better opportunities for its people.

Kosovo was incredibly interesting overall. Not recognized by Serbia, entering the country from Serbia meant there was no official border or passport examination. As I’d been there before but never for more than half a day, staying five days allowed me to pick up a bit more of the language, and to get a feel for things. For example, my nice hotel in the capital, Prishtina hosted several European bureaucrats. Over breakfast and dinner I was able to see and hear them work on what are myriad projects and measures being taken in what is a very conflicted yet recently independent little country. Indeed, Kosovo only got its independence last year, having been under the auspices of the UN and NATO since 1999. However, the country’s independence is contentious, to say the least. It violated the 1999 UN treaty with Serbia that ended the conflict, which said that Serbia’s territorial integrity shall not be violated. Kosovo, being a former province of Serbia, is thus seen by Serbia and other governments as having declared independence illegally. For the record, I don’t support this notion. Kosovo is 90% ethnic Albanian and moreover, could never be governed by Belgrade again. Yet it matters because next week begins the trial in the UN’s International Court of Justice which seeks to challenge Kosovo’s independence. Serbia has of course made the case, but as an Economist article this week discusses, not only do Serbia’s allies (primarily Russia) have concern about the independence of Kosovo and the precedent it has set, but other countries with separatist minorities are reluctant to see the case condoned. They fear it may incite such minorities with territorial ambitions in their country to push a little harder.

Something else I only saw in Prishtina was the loudly pronounced anti-establishment movement. I say anti-establishment, because the movement, Vetëvendosje (‘Self-determination’) is opposed to a continued international presence but also the government that cooperates with them. I frequently saw graffiti illustrating this, and riots this year which caused material damage to UN vehicles and buildings were incited by Vetëvendosje. Given a EU security force that was established in cooperation with Serbia, they see this as violating their autonomy. I thus saw a good deal of anti-EULEX propaganda.

But Prishtina has actually thrived from the international presence. A decade of international peacekeepers, bureaucrats, and their money has created a layer of society that wouldn’t have existed otherwise—a clear upper class. I heard about nice houses and neighborhoods, but what I clearly saw were the nice hotels, restaurants, and bars that cater to the elite. They are, admittedly, a treat to visit given the lack of such diversity elsewhere in the region. “Culinary cosmopolitanism,” as my travel guide said. Yet I can see why there’s resentment—bureaucrats earning daily what an average person earns monthly is a bit disturbing, particularly when the work they’re doing is not seen as beneficial to the country.

Beyond all this, Prishtina lacks historical character, though is set nicely in a valley and creeping up over hills. Fortunately, the rest of my trip was had in Prizren. Just over the mountains from NW Macedonia, it felt a world away. A Serbian town in medieval times, Prizren thrived under the Ottoman Empire as a trading center. When it became predominantly Albanian, I’m not sure, but the combination of its religious and cultural history, not to mention the setting and architecture, makes it a gem in this part of the world. To briefly elaborate, the town is in a hilly, not yet mountainous area. But built on an incline along a freshwater, mountain like river, it has centuries old Orthodox churches and Islamic mosques. Further, there’s the “carsija,” a Turkish word used in most cities in the region to describe the old market part of town. Right in the center along the river, the carsija has 19th and early 20th century structures housing excellent restaurants and shops. Right near the city library where we were working was an excellent sweet shop with more kinds of baklava than I’d ever seen! (I was only able to try a couple of kinds…)

Beyond its lengthy history, Prizren is famous for hosting the “League of Prizren” in 1878. The League was a coming together of Albanian intellectuals at the time, who attempted to lay out an Albanian state from the provinces of the then disintegrating Ottoman Empire. In the end they were unsuccessful, but the building and its museum are a reminder of this event and source of pride for Albanians.

Unfortunately, Prizren was subject to a great deal of vandalism in March 2004 during significant rioting and conflict throughout Kosovo. Nearly three dozen people died in the country, though none in Prizren. But the town’s Orthodox churches and monasteries suffered greatly. One up above the town near the fortress looks intact from below, but an image from above shows quite the contrary. Unfortunately, several churches bore this fate, and are now barb-wired off and not used. Not to mention the Serbs who lived there previously have all but left.

Yet as I returned to Skopje the other night, we drove through what is a Serb enclave in southern Kosovo (most Serbs live in the north of the country). I’d heard positively about the area before, as its natural beauty is splendid and the ski area there is an example of Serbs and Albanians living cooperatively. Yet a Ukrainian KFOR (NATO military) contingency in the middle of the village was a reminder of the delicate peace and safety that exists in the country. Indeed, if five years after the first peace (1999) there was such rioting and killing as there was in 2004, it seems a possibility that with Serbia bullying the country, another five years later it could happen again.

Sandzak & Le Salad Macedoine

Oh, how time is flying! Am on the road this week working quite intensely, but wanted to post from my current location in Novi Pazar in southwest Serbia, just north of Kosovo. I came via Uzice, a town three hours away in the Zlatibor region. The town itself was nothing impressive, but the Zlatibor area is one of rolling hills, pastures and forests, resting atop a bed of limestone. Picturesque and pleasant to the eye, it reminded me greatly of the Ohio River Valley and southern Indiana. My colleague and I were fortunate to stay in an acquaintance’s weekend house, which was isolated and provided fresh air, not to mention an escape from the swine flu epidemic that was hitting that town hard (two deaths there, unfortunately). We were interviewing our candidates in the local high school, but no one else was there—schools are closed all week throughout the country.

But we came to Novi Pazar in the Sandzak region a few days ago and have been quite busy, but of course I’ve had a look around. Novi Pazar is, along with Novi Sad and northern Serbia’s Vojvodina region (an area mixed with Serbs, Hungarians, Germans, and others), the most multicultural and diverse part of Serbia. It has retained its Ottoman character and is predominantly Muslim. Active Mosques abound, and most of the Muslims are Bosniaks (Slavs who converted to Islam), though there are apparently still Turkish and Albanian minorities, also Muslims. Though it’s hard to say about the former—they’ve mixed in well over the last century (and before) and while I’ve seen plenty of Turkish surnames, the students all say they speak Serbian/Bosnian at home. Regardless, my colleague is actually from here, and his opinion is that this town’s diversity and chaos creates some of the most eccentric people in Serbia. Based on his character and others I’ve met so far, I might have to agree!

I hope to see one of the famous monasteries in the coming days, but that might be tough given my schedule. However, I want to post a blog below that I wrote up last week but just never got put up. It is…


Le Salad Macedoine

Upon departing from the Skopje bus station recently, I sat down in my seat and looked at the departure signs in front of my bus and the one next to us. My bus’ final destination was Belgrade, capital of Serbia, and the one next to me was Pristina, capital of Kosovo. I thought to myself “how ironic…only in Macedonia.” This is because while the “battle of Kosovo” may have originally occurred in 1389, over 600 years later it continues in a different fashion. Indeed, just a decade ago (1999) the Serbian military under Slobodan Milosevic occupied Kosovo and retaliated to an intense US led NATO attack. While Milosevic’s policies were oppressive at best and violently genocidal at worst (though genocide is a delicate word and I’m reluctant to use it), it was the NATO attack—which was the first US attack on a European city/country since WWII—that greatly escalated the conflict; it made it a war. The small country of Macedonia, right next door to both, was affected in another way—250,000 refugees poured into the country from Kosovo. They came because Macedonia was called upon to open its borders and let them in, and because there’s a significant Albanian minority right here in Macedonia.

I won’t continue with the history of that conflict, but to say that Macedonia is unique because of its strong Albanian minority (who became stronger after being emboldened from 1999-2001) and multiculturalism overall, and as my experience in Serbia recently showed me, perhaps more at odds with their previous bedfellows than before. This is because Macedonia is now a bi-national state, with the Albanian minority wielding much greater influence than ten years ago. For example, Macedonia settled a border dispute and recognized Kosovo’s independence two weeks back. It was wise and progressive, in my opinion, but it infuriated Serbia. Their foreign minister, Vuk Jeremic (a Harvard Kennedy School alum to note), threatened to rescind their support for Macedonia, as well as their ambassador in Skopje.

To add to the distance at which Macedonia puts itself from Serbia, the name dispute with Greece not only provokes the Greeks, but some Serbs as well. I testify to this after speaking to some Serbian students last week. To stipulate, Serbs are generally close with Greece. In regards to Macedonia, in the early and late 20th century, they conspired to divide it, and did in some ways-the Kingdom of and then SFR Yugoslavia occupied/possessed Vardar Macedonia from the 1930s to the 1990s, and Greece took Aegean Macedonia and made it what is most of northern Greece today. Anyhow, more recently, post-SFRY, even Slobodan Milosevic’s son was known to have suggested dividing Macedonia again, having apparently been annoyed with having an extra border between his own country and Greece.

But what I discussed with some Serbian students was their opinion that Macedonia is fabricating its history and should come to terms with the reality that they are a rather mixed lot, and certainly not the descendants of Alexander the Great. To some extent they have a fair point—it really is an absurd and irredentist notion that modern Macedonians, after millennia of invading tribes and groups, primarily the Slavs, are anything like the ancient peoples of pre-Christian Macedon. Yet identity is fluid and no one should be able to tell another who they are. This may seem logical and/or irrelevant, but here in Macedonia it’s at the fore of the country’s slow accession into NATO and the EU. That is (and which I’ve discussed before), Greece blocked Macedonia joining NATO in April 2008 because they dispute the country’s name, calling it FYROM and demanding it change. International mediators have tried unsuccessfully to persuade the two countries to find a resolution, but neither side has compromised. Hilary Clinton may get involved, sources say. Regardless, Macedonia is the underdog and has less leverage. But that’s not to say they don’t have an incentive—the EU just gave the country a green light to begin EU accession talks, but with the implicit stipulation that they shore things up with the Greeks. As one guy on the news half joked, they thus need to decide whether they’ll give their “arm or their head” for their future.

The ruling government has thus thought to put it to a referendum, yet some ethnic Albanian politicians have not only threatened to boycott that, but go it alone in joining the EU and NATO. Although this isn’t possible—only nations, not groups of people within them—can join such organizations, it’s caused quite a stir. Regardless, I think the entire situation, not to mention the upcoming visa liberalization which will allow Macedonian citizens to travel freely in the EU Schengen countries, has made some in the country realize that perhaps they need to swallow their pride and say to heck with it! Joining the EU is huge for little Macedonia, as it gives them even greater autonomy and once they’re in they have myriad opportunities within other EU countries for education, travel, and business. Indeed, a market of 450 million is far larger than their current trade partners (mostly neighboring countries) tally up to.

Anyhow, the Balkans are nowhere near short of action these days, and I’m majorly on the road in coming weeks. Currently en route to Uzice and Novi Pazar, Serbia, then off to Kosovo, Macedonia, and wrapping up the testing and interviewing season in Bulgaria just before Christmas. More on down the road!

In the land of the double headed eagle, and Mercedes Benz

Have spent this week conducting testing in Albania, the country just west of Macedonia. While close geographically and in some ways culturally, Albania is a slightly more "western" country than Macedonia, I'd actually wager to say. High mountains separate the countries, but once one is over those the land is quite different. Albania is largely flat from what I've seen, a country at a lower altitude and thus with a warmer, more Mediterranean climate. It's coast is the Adriatic, but with the country extending quite far south--just across from Greece's Corfu--it is rather ClubMed!

But it's more than the seaside, it's also the fact that Albanians have used the sea and their close proximity to Italy for most of the last century (and before) to migrate there for work or a new life. There is in fact an Albanian speaking minority in Italy, the Arbereshe. They are the result of centuries of immigration to southern Italy, but since the 1930s when Mussolini occupied Albania to the present, the country has looked to Italy for its western influence. And it shows.

I've learned this week that far more people than I imagined speak Italian here, and several of the students who I tested have been to Italy (saw their visas in their passports). Italian food and style are everywhere. The capital, Tirana, particularly espouses this. Its grand palm tree lined boulevards and Italian architecture make one wonder whether they're still in the Balkans. There are excellent cafes, restaurants, bakeries; and people just seem more stylish.

The phenomenal thing about Albania is that 25 years ago it was an isolated, communist country of half-starved people who were forced to abandon religion for the sake of worshiping their insane despotic leader, Enver Hoxha. Hoxha was particularly interesting because of his apparent paranoia. He didn't want to be a part of Yugoslavia (no surprise), but had close ties with Soviet Russia for some time. He then broke off those relations and established strong relations with China. Chinese women were brought here, and students could study Chinese (just as they did Russian for quite a while--nearly every post-WWII generation individual I've met this week has said they spoke Russian, having studied it in school.) Anyhow, all well that he had such relations, but he wasn't very good at maintaining them, and from what a colleague here told me, he had a propensity for killing off his ministers and political acquaintances periodically and imprisoning anyone else deemed a threat or spy (including some of those Chinese he'd brought over when times were good). He didn't want anyone getting too close to him, or threatening his power. Further, he feared invasion so built thousands of these little concrete bunkers throughout the country. When one crosses the border from Macedonia, for example, they line the road in the mountains above.

What's really interesting today is that even though Hoxha died (a rich man) in 1985, his wife is still alive and lives here in Tirana. Further, their stolen wealth has made them one of the richest families in Albania, owning businesses and land. Apparently they even put the current prime minister into power, Sali Berisha. (He's been here before though--was the first "democratically elected" president after the fall of communism, then got back into power in 2005 as PM. Sounds very Putin like, in fact...)

So what's really fascinating about this country? It's gone from an isolated authoritarian regime where most everything was produced here (and that was little--many people were nearly starving, waiting hours daily for bread, milk, rice) to this quite well to do land of fancy looking people, clothes, and cars. Speaking of the cars, it is, as one person I met this week said--"where Mercedes come to die". These are mostly stolen from W. Europe (one will be hard pressed to find many dealerships around), but I'd seriously say that 50% of the cars on the road are Mercedes. And there are A LOT of cars on the road (traffic's a nightmare!)

I think what's really interesting is how and why this explosion of development has occurred. It seems that (and what was explained to me) the isolation of communism and Hoxha resulted in this hyper development due to people seeking out all the things they'd been deprived of for decades. They thus went from abject poverty to a rather decent standard of living, but in so doing abandoned for some time many things that were Albanian. Seeing several western, non-Albanian names this week with our students (Jack, Jessica, Robert, Maria Kay, etc), my colleague told me how people just wanted to have something new. She said she felt bad for the generation born after 1991, because their identity was and is in severe flux. How they live compared to their parents and grandparents...it can't even be compared. With a market flooded with goods from around the world, people traveling as well (albeit with still quite a visa regime), and major summer tourism these days, the country is another world compared to the Balkan hinterland is was just a decade or two ago.

For better or for worse, I depart tomorrow. Back east to Skopje for testing there in a week's time. This trip though has made me excited for my visits to Bulgaria and Bosnia. I don't have much time to be a tourist, but by just being in a country, hearing and using the language, and having conversations with some locals, you can pick up a good feel for how things are.

Southern Serbia, Ajvar, Grozdober & the Grape Harvest

Where to begin—life’s been non-stop lately. Autumn is officially here and while the month began grey and cool it’s now southern California like—mostly sunny and in the 80s. I’ve begun my recruiting season with a lot of preparation here in Skopje and a visit to southern Serbia last week. With two colleagues, an American from our Belgrade office and a Kosovar from our Priština office, we met in one of the most southern Serbian towns, Vranje. A town of 55,000 (according to my Lonely Planet), it’s just a half hour over the border from Macedonia and in the Preševo Valley. Its proximity means its dialect its distinctly mixed—predominantly Serbian but with some Macedonian similarities, and famous as a result. Apparently it was used in several films to create a distinct flavor for the characters way of speaking. A “southern accent”, if you will.

The town was cute though—on an incline as it led to a castle and small mountains beyond, but sophisticated enough. Further, its location lends to a diverse lot on the streets. Despite it being inhabited by mostly Serbs, there are several towns and areas around that are in fact predominantly ethnic Albanian. We had several students come to our exams from these areas, but I also heard Albanian spoken on the streets and in the bus. The town of Bujanovac just south is particularly Albanian—all the signs I saw as I went through were in the language, as is the town of Preševo itself. The area, unfortunately, is also well known regionally for conflict between the Yugoslav security forces and Albanian population. Atrocities occurred here and around that are still being resolved, including news this week of two Albanian-American brothers who were killed by Serb forces and dumped in mass graves in 1999, and that those accused were acquitted for it in trial. On a lighter note, I’ll return to Vranje in a few weeks for a few more days and hope to have a closer look around. Next week though I’ll be in Albania for the entire week—in Fier and Tirana. More on that later.

Here in Macedonia, I’ve enjoyed the shift to the autumn season. With more pleasant and hospitable weather, people are out and in neighborhoods, towns, villages, making “zimnici”—jarred winter goods. These include jams, vegetables, and most famous of all, ajvar. Ajvar is a condiment made from roasted red peppers and eggplant, which is then peeled, chopped, and stewed for hours. The process is arduous but the result a delight, and I was fortunate enough to take part in it with my in-laws. As I mentioned that day on Facebook, it was 60 kilograms (130+ pounds) of peppers that we roasted, which was quite time consuming. Stewing and jarring didn’t come until day two, but what’s most glorious in addition to the smell in the air is the cleaning of the pot with a loaf of bread at the end!

Politically, I wanted to mention an interested and overdue change that’s come about this week—the Macedonian government will change the seal of the country. As can be seen, the seal was created in 1946 for a Yugoslav Macedonia and reflects a socialist and agrarian tradition. While the latter may still be the case, the red star will be removed and the imagery may change as well. This makes sense, in my opinion, as Yugoslavia is a country long gone, and Macedonia should (and has already in other ways) re-brand itself for a new era.



Last but not least, I want to build on this agricultural note to mention the grape harvest and changes in the life of grape growers here. As my in-laws live in the wine region and have small vineyards themselves, we spend much time there. The “Grozdober”, or grape picking festival, was thus not to be missed! It is actually a relatively recent affair, but includes parades of schools children, farmers, motorcycles and more, as well as concerts and plenty of barbecue, beer, and wine in the streets and parks of downtown Kavadarci—the “capital” of the Tikveš wine region.

What’s most interesting about Tikveš though, and which I intend to do PhD research in, are the changes that have occurred then since the fall of socialism. Although the country has had relatively significant foreign direct investment (FDI) in recent years with its “Invest in Macedonia” campaign, the privatization of formerly state owned enterprises, entrepreneurship, and increased tourism, the post-socialist transition has created a much greater disparity between rich and poor than existed before. Macedonia’s significant grape and wine industry has not been left aside. Privatization and a changing economy have meant both investment by foreign and domestic interests, and a split between the business-oriented class that benefits from the new economic order and the traditional, land-oriented farmers. In the grape industry, with prices falling along with government subsidies annually, grape collectors and wineries are profiting and growers suffering.

Whereas during the socialist Yugoslav era there were only a handful of public grape collectors (vizbi) and wineries in Macedonia, there are now dozens. With a drive for increased wine-tourism and production, the quality and variety of grapes and wines has improved. Unfortunately, what have not changed for the better are the quantities of grapes produced and the lot of the growers. Unlike in the past when grape growers were paid a guaranteed price for their grapes, they have more recently been left at the whim of wine producers and the market. Although it could be argued that this may be necessary in order to improve grape and wine production, grape growers, their families, and surrounding communities whose lives depend on the vineyards have been marginalized by the shift from a subsidized system to a less regulated, “free market” one. Such as in other countries where protesting farmers can wreak havoc (the dairy protests in Western Europe this week come to mind), there are political ramifications as well: Just this year grape growers have demanded 30% higher prices for their grapes (which is small given the incredibly low price of grapes—approximately $.15/kg), protested, attacked some businessmen affiliated with the Tikveš winery, threatened to leave their grapes unpicked, and some have even abandoned their vineyards and migrated to Italy to work for significantly higher wages (try 2,000 euros a month compared with 200-300 euros in Macedonia).

Combined with increasing prices for food, commodities, and utilities in the country, rural communities feel unable to buy what is deemed necessary to maintain a modern standard of living, and are being forced to change their customs and lifestyles as a result. While the marketplace may be to blame for this, the reluctance or uncertainty of grape growers to change is another aspect to take into consideration; growers seem slow to realize that they must change. Forming strong agribusiness associations, which exist in Greece and other EU countries, would likely improve their lot (though perhaps cause greater protests!). Such associations allow growers to collectively make purchases, lobby for their greater good, and embark on the expansion of their business endeavors. Yet many growers in Tikveš remain too uncertain and perhaps distrusting of each other, and unaware as to how they should go about taking such action. I’m indeed interested in examining further not only how the livelihoods and identity of grape growers in Tikveš are in constant flux as a result of changing economy and competitiveness in the grape and wine industry, but what factors contribute to their inability to better protect themselves and their industry, given how vital it is to the Macedonian economy. One should look beyond economics and the marketplace to the myriad factors that compose the changes occurring in Macedonia as a result of privatization and free market development, as they are in fact a complex web of culture, patronage, and politics.

Back in the Yugosphere

I recently read an Economist article about the thriving “Yugosphere” of trade—commerce minus the ethno-nationalism. Money does make the world go round, but whether post-Yugoslav business has gotten so good as to put aside the 1990s and before, I’m reluctant to believe. Regardless, I like the term and notions of spheres. For unlike the square cut states of the US (admittedly not all) and our predisposition to like things boxy, the notion of overlapping circles of people, society, influence, are much more applicable to the real world. Well, here in the Balkans at least.

Back in Macedonia this last week after nearly a month away, I’ve again felt refreshingly foreign. Having been elsewhere in Europe and home in the US, I’ve been contrasting things again in a “bi-cultural” manner. Primarily, (and stealing another term, though one from an anthro course long ago), it’s the “social life of things” (Appadurai, for anyone who knows him) here that really puts life in contrast to that in the US.

Now don’t get me wrong—people are friendly in the Midwest where I’m from, but the extent to which we socialize and perceive our time as ours is in fact quite different. For example, a large family lunch my wife and I went to when we were visiting Indiana a few weeks ago included a couple of aunts and uncles and some of their kids (all adults though). However, unlike in Macedonia where a family lunch of that nature—a reunion, or just at the weekend—will last hours, if not all afternoon into the evening, my cousins all departed with an hour of arriving, having other things to do (two admittedly have children who they needed to attend to apparently). Yet lunch only then lasted another hour, and things wrapped up—the eating, and moreso, the several concurrent conversations occurring at once. And this is another difference between here and home—in the US we all want to be engaged in conversation, whereas here, unless it’s a very large group, people often sit around listening to one person speak at a time, or a conversation that’s passed off as it changes. “Macedonia, Timeless…”

Thus the social life of things in a general sense is quite different. Even last weekend we spent with my wife’s family at their weekend house, and when her parents departed the evening before us, some neighbors came over and insisted that for us “not to be alone” we should come over to their place. We had to say no a few times for them to back off, as it’s really not a part of Macedonian culture to be on ones own, even a young couple. And independently? Most Peace Corps volunteers here know the feeling of going through culture shock while living with a host family during training and wanting to just be alone, to read or write or think or sleep(!) But it just doesn’t work like that—when you’re awake you should be with other people. It’s not written as such, but that’s largely how it is. It honestly makes me wonder when people have time to reflect. I think the notion of reflection is thus somewhat of a cultural phenomenon. I couldn’t say how many cultures value it, but it seems to be a characteristic of an individualistic society, and thus in the US we tend to consider it a value that we learn and grow from. Americans don’t want unsolicited advice, we want to figure things out for ourselves.

In Macedonia? Society and cultural customs are far more complex. Children are given much more freedom in some regards, but they’re quickly indoctrinated into the family and very much raised by it. These are somewhat of generalizations, but overall, while in the US we consider ourselves to raise our children, they are actually very much raised through their education, extracurricular activities, and things they’re exposed to through extreme exposure to various media. Whereas I’ve always thought “I must return to the US to raise my kids (for the educational system),” I’ve met Macedonians who’d lived abroad and returned here for the opposite reason once their children reached school-age—they want their children around their family and culture (to heck with the school system!) This is without a doubt a reflection of the economic system in which the two countries I write about live under—one is wealthy and one much less so, but it’s also cross-cultural. What is available for consumption in Macedonia pales in comparison to the US, and the notion that good education will always lead to success is not highly considered here, particularly post-socialist and perhaps more among the Albanian minority (who were largely excluded from the benefits of the socialist machine). Less educated (institutionally), their financial success today is evidence of this. But to make my point: it's not all materialism here (or hasn't been in recent decades), and thus I'd wager to say that the family unit and the culture from it is deemed more valuable than in the US, where we cherish the notion of the nuclear family, but have much less of it overall and expect the system and society to be a large part of our lives. Within them is where we live, work, spend, buy...

Yet speaking of the “things” aspect of Appadurai’s statement, it was his economic anthropological work assessing cultural values of commodities that led him to write his book titled as such. His research explored how in one South Pacific island culture TVs were seen as prestigious items, even when there was no electricity to power them. Plastic bags were less prestigious but nonetheless seen as foreign and used in various ways for practical and material purposes.

To this end, while Macedonia is an industrialized country, their poor economy would make one think that consumption and goods might play less of a role in their lifestyle. They admittedly buy fewer new items (does anyone buy more than Americans?), but something that’s long fascinated me here is the prestige associated with commodities, particularly technology. Anyone who knows Mediterranean culture knows that image is an important aspect of peoples’ lives, but Macedonians have several customs associated with products and purchases that seem unusual to Americans at first.

In particular is style over practicality, such as in dressing certain ways and showing off by purchasing expensive items (from new phones to cars) when one truly doesn’t have the money to do so. Their commodities may be being used, but for their intended purpose? What does a barely employed guy need with a Blackberry or iPhone? This happens stateside, but perhaps because of our development of such technology and the technology gap, I would say Americans understand the functionality of the technology and use it as such—sms, email, internet, etc.—and much more frequently.

Technology aside (though I’m always fascinated with our use of it, despite my personal technological ineptitude!), also on my mind recently has been work ethic and moreso behavior within the workplace. As we see when growing up, many Americans work long hours, often being absent from home for at least nine if not ten, eleven, twelve hours a day, merely for their job. In addition to the lengthy workdays, we have a pressure filled work environment where “if there’s time to lean, there’s time to clean [house].” The movie Office Space summed it up well—the busy-ness, bureacracy, and rather beguiling way we’re convinced to work long days (money, but also "team" effort, corporate spirit, "flare"...). Not to mention, it’s a job and without it one's life can be purposeless.

But here, things are very different. A job is valued as something to have which provides income, but once it’s gotten people tend to take it easy. Not to say there are no hard working individuals here, but there’s much more an attitude of “we’ll get the work done when it’s time…in the meantime, let’s drink coffee and shoot the breeze.” And team spirit? Not much. A work environment, in my experience, is more pleasure filled and laidback, but perhaps lacking in advancement—the work may get done, but if everything’s at the last minute there’s not much time to make corrections or revisions. (Perhaps that’s just the writing instructor in me, but this happened today at work…) A lack of incentives to work hard (eg, moving up the "ladder") though is certainly a factor...

Well, must wrap up this note, but wanted to try to post given the swift disappearance of the month of August. A fantastic wedding in Italy, then a visit home, and return via Kyiv kept me quite busy. My job though, with American Councils, will put me on the road a good deal in the coming months, as I travel to Serbia, Albania, Bulgaria, and Bosnia, in addition to throughout Macedonia, repeatedly, so hopefully I’ll have more fodder to share. Thanks for reading and happy Labor Day (and on September 8, Macedonian Independence Day!)

The Galichnik Wedding & Kriva River Valley

It being a summer of weddings, my own and others, in a travel-blog style I want to elaborate on some of the more interesting things I’ve seen this past week. Trying to avoid sitting around Skopje these hot summer days, particularly given that the city’s relatively dead with high travel season in effect, I’m making sure to skip town come Fridays and even during the week some. Today we’re off for a long weekend with family and friends on the Tikvesh Lake and in the Baba Mountains at Pelister National Park.

Last weekend though we went to a traditional event that I’ve long heard about but always missed. It’s the re-creation of a traditional Macedonian wedding, specifically from the Western Macedonian “Mijachki” region. As each region has its own traditions regarding clothing styles, food and dance, in tribal fashion the “Mijachki” people, known as Mijaks, attempt to maintain their identity through preserving and presenting their customs and culture. Thus in the high altitude village of Galichnik up in the Bistra Mountains, the people there have preserved their wedding tradition in a celebration performed every year on St. Peter’s day.

A growing but still relatively small and undeveloped tourist event, the Galichnik Wedding (“Galichka Svadba”) is a legitimate orchestration of how a traditional wedding might have been up to the mid-20th century. It is legitimate because the bride and groom are real, having been selected via lottery for the honor (though the process of selection, requires that one of the wedding party have Galichnik ancestry), and they wear traditional costumes and partake in some ceremonial traditions long gone.

Beginning on Saturday evening, there are a series of events done at the bride’s and groom’s homes, as well as in the center of the village. They include decorating a flag, firing a rifle, welcoming the musicians, a variety of dances, and the taking of the bride from her house by the groomsmen. Of particular note, the wedding tradition includes:

Riding horses, a practice otherwise quite rare in Macedonia due to, as I understand, Ottoman restrictions on Christians riding any dromedaries (horses, donkeys, etc) for several centuries;



The very traditional and complex “bride’s” (‘nevestinskoto’) and “difficult” (‘teshkoto’) dances, done by female and male groups, respectively. They are a combination of balance, synchronization, and very slow and fast footwork.



The groomsmen and his party then go marching with torches to the bride’s house to take her to the village center for a ceremonial cleansing at the fountain and a dance.



The evening then ends with dancing by all participants in the wedding (several dozen at this event), as they prepare for the last night before the official ceremony.

Sunday’s events began early (9:30am) and lasted several hours. The events, much less visible than Saturday’s events (which were mostly in the village center), included going to the cemetery in order to invite dead relatives to the wedding; inviting the godfather by the groom and his party; shaving the groom in the center; going after the bride by marriage brokers—groomsmen and family; welcoming the bride by the groom’s mother and family; the ceremony in the church; and more dancing in the center by the male and female groups first, then the entire wedding party.
I want elaborate fully as I don’t completely understand, but of particular note, the shaving of the groom is done to separate the groom from his boyhood, and thus from his mother and father.



When the marriage brokers go for the bride, one has run ahead of the others to prepare the family for their arrival, while the others walk behind the groomsmen upon horses.

When the bride is welcomed in the center, she is helped off the horse she was escorted on, but then briefly placed in a horse’s bridle, a symbol that she’s been taken and will be obedient to her husband. She then receives a sieve, cake and goblet of wine from the groom’s mother and is turned around three times.

The church ceremony is not visible to the audience, but the young couple is reportedly splashed with basil water for cleansing. Upon returning to the center, the bride then fills her water jugs and leads a dance.

Altogether, the ceremony lasts several hours and, while changed by the nature of it being a planned tourist event, is a remarkable look at old Macedonian traditions.


Another fantastic experience from this past week was venturing out with a friend and archaeology Fulbright scholar for a little wandering through the Kriva River valley. Within a 20 mile radius there are several spectacular sites that date back millennia. Only one has become a popular tourist site, whereas the others are still under excavation and/or isolated enough that they have not gotten the attention they deserve.

The first place we visited was the more well know ancient observatory and settlement known as Kokino (for the village nearby). Up at over a thousand meters (3,000+ feet) it is a natural rock formation that was used for centuries by Neolithic peoples. They lived near it and used it ceremonially, carving niches in the rock that made it a very accurate observatory.






Another site we went to was the continuously excavated 4-5th century defense settlement near the village of Konjuh. Dating from the reign of Justinian (co-incidentally born not far away near Skopje), it has been under excavation by local and US archaeologists since the late 1990s. Like many of the rock formations in the area (more to come), the fortress atop the hill was carved by human hands and labor into the rock, though no doubt structures were built on top of the rock rooms still visible. Ironically, it was likely built to thwart off the invading tribes, mostly Slavs.





The next site we wandered off to is the less known Neolithic site called Cacev Kamen, or “Cacev’s Stone.” It is obscure because of its being coveted by one archaeologist who has rather wild theories about it. But when we went there it was certainly the most fascinating place we had seen.



My friend Seth was able to give me some idea of how it *might* have been used (according to said archaeologist), but it’s rock rooms—with flat floors and walls, basins, steps and ladders carved out of the stone make one truly wonder what these early people were doing on this rocky outcrop. Surrounded by fertile fields and valley, why would they have taken such time to mould this giant stone? There are far more questions than answers, but the valley has an eerie feel to it. (Adding to this are the natural rock “Kuklica,” or ‘dolls’ nearby. Although we didn’t make it to them on Tuesday, they are a sandy stone worn down into human and animal shapes.)



Our last stop for the day was one of the more unusual towns in Macedonia. Where a Peace Corps friend of mine was stationed many years ago, the medieval feeling town of Kratovo was named as such because it is in fact built into a volcanic rock crater. It is surrounded by mines and under Ottoman and Yugoslav reign relatively prospered from these. It also hosts several interesting Ottoman bridges and towers. We dined there in a restaurant built below one of these towers and atop one of the medieval tunnels in town. It’s now a wine cellar, but testament to the town’s besieged past.

A Bear Got Married

Even though several fortnights have passed since last I wrote, it’s not been for nothing to say rather than for lack of time. I could’ve shared more about my travels and visitors—to Tirana, Prishtina, Belgrade, Halkidiki, and friends from Finland, England, and the US here—but the end of the academic year, and our guests and wedding have swallowed up a couple months of my life! But not to my chagrin; there’s a local proverb said when it’s raining and the sun is out here, which has been the case often this week—“a bear is getting married” (‘mechka se mazi’). More on that momentarily, as a bear indeed got married...

So where to begin? The Balkans live on, and I do too within them. Summer is here and for weeks I got more sun than I needed. A guys getaway of sorts, two friends and I climbed the 3rd highest peak in the country, “Thessaloniki’s Head” (‘Solunska Glava’), and had a blast doing so. We took a train to a small village, a taxi to a smaller one, and then hiked from there to a mountain hut. The next day we did the three hour ascent from the hut, and albeit getting toasted by the sun, had perfect weather and fantastic views along the way.



It’s been a stormy week though this week, which has been cathartic as I try to relax post-wedding and gear up for some summer hobbies and travels. I’ll be local for the next month or so (though with a few adventurous getaways planned), and we’ll then head to Italy for a friend’s wedding and on to the states thereafter. News though is that I’ll return to Europe via Kiev, Ukraine, as I must attend a training there for a position I’ve taken with American Councils. I’ll be their recruiter for the southern Balkan region, so will travel extensively in Albania, Kosovo, Macedonia, Bulgaria, and southern Serbia, from September till December. It’s then off to Canterbury, Kent to commence with my doctoral research after that.

So, despite guests and such adventures having passed or being planned, the big event of the month was my wife’s and my “svadba”—wedding. We were technically already married, but we wanted to have a celebration of it, as most people do, and living locally naturally decided to do it here. Now, I had been to weddings in Macedonia before and had seen the extent to which they're quite different from those in the US. There is no rehearsal dinner, no father walking down the aisle and giving away the bride, no speeches, no buffet dinners, no bad DJ and cheesy dancing, and no time limit. For the most part, it’s quite the contrary, and being fully involved in one made me see all the traditions of my wife’s town, region (Kavadarci, Tikvesh), and the country in general.

Briefly, the wedding events started the evening before the day on which it actually took place. Known as the “bungur,” it was a three or so hour visit by close friends and relatives. The wedding then began for us by late morning the next day, when those same folks returned to the house, along with a group of local musicians, to liven things up as I prepared to take my bride and whisk her away from her family and off to the reception. This began noon-ish, with guests arriving at the reception at 1pm. We were late for it, but got there at quarter after to greet them and welcome others. With appetizers, drinks, non-stop dancing, dinner, and cake, the event then lasted until nearly 8pm.

Yet underneath the festivities lay several long standing and interesting local customs and traditions. To begin, the wedding party is slightly different than in Midwestern America. The main stars of the wedding and sitting at the head table with the bride and groom, include the parents, a best man (“dever”—usually the groom’s brother, other male relative or a close friend), the bride’s best woman (“starosvatica”), siblings, and godparents (“kumovi”). Who chooses these though is gender specific. Whereas the groom chooses the “dever” and “kumovi”, the bride chooses her “starosvatica.” Further, the “starosvatica” is usually accompanied by her husband, who is the “starosvat.” We were this at the wedding of our “starosvatovi” in 2003, thus it was now their turn to reciprocate. Altogether, they play a large role in the wedding preparation and celebration, and receive gifts from the bride and groom for their presence.

The “kumovi,” or godparents, have the most predominant role though. It is an honor to be asked to be godparents, but once that privilege is bestowed upon a couple they are bound to traditions of leadership and what I’d consider power at the wedding. When we asked the couple we did (my Peace Corps training home-stay family), by tradition we brought them sweets and alcohol (in our case, red wine and chocolate covered baklava). However, upon their acceptance they then demanded to pay for several things. One was the wedding cake, as well as the bride’s shoes and material for her dress. Although Irena had already bought both and their cost was beyond that of what our godparents could pay, they went ahead and purchased the latter and gave them as gifts at the Friday evening “bungur.” They then gave us other gifts, and we were bound to respect them and make them feel as godparents should.

Further, the godparents’ role is traditionally one that becomes kin-like, if it was not already. I have always been considered one of theirs, having lived and been reared (in Macedonia) in their village house for several months back in 2002-03. But we should now consider them all the closer, and they should have a right to name our first child. Although our relationship won’t proceed in this fashion due to my opposition, they generally will suggest three names for the parents to choose from. I know many people who were named in this fashion…

But back to the wedding—the “bungur,” or pre-wedding party, was a grand occasion, with one particular custom a large part of it. This was the making, breaking, and distribution of “pogacha,” a traditional bread. We gave this honor to my 17 year-old sister, who was visiting for the wedding, and it went something like this: a small, foot tall table was setup in the living room of the house, upon which my sister was to make the dough for the bread. Surrounded by women and children (though my dad and I couldn’t miss it), she was to mix and knead the flour, oil, water, eggs, and sugar with her hands. All the while, the women sang traditional songs and dabbed my sister’s face with flour, jokingly but customarily to keep her from sweating. A little boy, our nephew, then placed a coin in the dough. The bread was thus placed in a pan and baked, and my sister led a dance in the yard. However, upon being baked came the occasion that associates this tradition with the bride and groom. A towel was placed over our nephew’s head, and the foot in diameter, steaming hot round bread was then broken over his head; one side for the groom’s family, one side for the bride’s. Whoever got the coin (my side) is to have good fortune. Further, however, this tradition—breaking the bread over a young boy’s head—is done to ensure that our first child is a boy. The bread was then broken up and distributed to guests before their departure.



The next day, relatives came early to the house to help prepare for the other guests and groom’s party who were to arrive. Although me and mine slept in the house, we distanced ourselves from the bride, her mother, aunts, and friends, and awaited the arrival of the wedding band. Meeting them on the street at noon, the event began with a flurry of traditional folk songs on brass and clarinet. Although this lasted longer than it should have due to my bride not being ready, we danced and entered the house to greet the other guests already there, eat some and listen to the music.

I, the groom, though was to begin the process of getting my bride from her chambers. This proceeded as such: upon being made aware that she was ready, party and all with myself in the lead and bride’s shoes in hand, went down the hallway to her room. The door was closed though, with her brother guarding it, so I had to pay him for the right to take his sister. (I paid off our nephew as well, asking him if I could take his aunt!) Upon entering the room, I bowed down upon one knee and placed my bride’s foot in her shoe. Customarily, and with the women saying “oh, there’re too big, put some money in,” I then stuffed some cash in the toe of the shoe to win their approval and slip her foot more comfortably in. (*Note, the shoes in fact fit quite well, and I was able to remove that cash and place it back in my pocket before it fell out!)



We then headed to the street for a few dances before we were to ride with the “starosvatici” to the reception. We did so in a decorated car parade, with horns blaring as we made our way the couple of miles through town.



This was the major aspect of the wedding that embodied customs different than our own, as upon arrival at the reception and greeting the guests, we then danced and danced and danced. Indeed, the dancing begins immediately and goes for hours, until the meal is served, but then continues until the guests have departed. Regarding the dances and songs, they are generally stories and requested by members of the wedding party and other guests, and there is even acting in them, such as when several men come to the aid of a supposedly sick man laying on the ground. While the tempo changes, the dance, called the “oro,” is as round as the word sounds, and people hold hands and slowly make rings of dancing guests who are able to casually rotate around the room, gaze at each other, and enjoy the affair.





Altogether, with 160 or so guests, our wedding was small by Macedonian standards, as my side was largely absent. Weddings here often have 300-400 guests, and some up to 600-700. It is a southern European tradition (as well as in the Near East) to have such large communal weddings, but they are a celebration that are deemed to be worthy of the presence of all friends and family.

A few other interesting customs that follow the wedding are the continuous bringing of cakes to the family (I think we have five in the freezer) and the drinking of warm brandy (“topla rakija”) the next day. As family and guests once again visit the house and bestow their congratulations, it is also a time when traditionally, and some families still in fact practice this, the sheets of the newlyweds should be hung outside the house to show that the marriage has been consummated. Being a modern couple, however, I took a bottle of ketchup, gave a squirt, rubbed it into the sheets, and presented it to the family. While laughing, my lovely mother-in-law shamefully jumped up to grab it, then ran out of the room to throw it in the wash!