The US did something very, very, very, very wrong...

Bombing Belgrade in 1999/2000 to set the course for the independence of Kosovo is, in my current experience on the ground here, wrong.  The people and infrastructure and attitudes and arrogant prejudices here is palpable.  There are burned out houses in a lot of neighborhoods that, one one persona proudly told me an hour ago, were the houses where Serbs lived.  They, of course, don't now.  There is abject poverty literally next door to multi-million dollar (euro) houses inhabited by embassy personnel.  Huge piles of garbage build up in vacant lots.  The old stadium seems to be a squatters den, right next door to a string of posh galleries and restaurant cafes.  Men and boys openly hound, cajole, and sexually degrade/objectify women walking down the street, and the women, for their part, seem to be culturally accepting of it.

I think the only comparison to Prishtina and its people would be the Kuwaitis.

And for this, the US cut deals with, and believed the lies of, a group they themselves classified as a terrorist organization: the KLA.  The US bombed the people of Belgrade to give the KLA political rights to declare independence.  An indepence the tax payers of the US and the EU are supporting.  Funds for education buy really pretty signs and build really nice houses for ambassadors, but the schools themselves look horrid (they may be excellently supplied from the inside, but from outside, they are wretched).

The karma of this city began gnawing on me about half-way here from the border.  And I was incredibly excited to arrive.  That excitment, sadly, turned to horror and disgust over the day spent wandering around.

And for all the talk and signs and plaques hanging everywhere reminding all who see that Kosovo is, indeed, an independent nation (under the constant supervision and armed guard of the KFOR), you'd think they could put up some street signs.  Maps are useless (as Prague Spring in `68 could attested to) if the streets are not marked.  I asked a policeman what the name of a major cross-street was.  He didn't know.  He asked a cab driver.  Mr. Cab Driver didn't know.  Mr. Cab Driver asked some locals walking along.  The locals didn't know.

I walked on.

Uphill.

In all directions.

The hills here make Seattle and San Francisco look like the Great Basin.  No exaggeration.


(A girl from the next hostel room over just yelled out, "I wanna be Albanian.  They're soooo cooool!")

So I guess that's the way to close it.  The young wealthy American kid said it all.  And everybody knows that young wealthy American kids are always right.  That's why they wear Che Guevara t-shirts.
 
Maybe leaving Kosovo for Podgorica tomorrow.  Maybe stick it out for another night.  If I find another place to stay.  The adventure that is this dismal hostel is another story altogether.  At least I have a door that locks.  No repeat of the Prague Loki I incident...

 signing off from the newest nation in the world, and the first nation whose flag was designed entirely with unicode colors.

   ~k


~*~