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Last Tuesday I had intended to head west towards Peja, but after discussing the situation with the friendly hotellier, he told me that it would make more sense to stay in Prishtina and have a look around the capital as I had seen very little of it so far. This gave me a little more time than anticipated so after another omelette breakfast served with the exact same single sausage, two bits of cheese and selection of salad things I didn't eat, I retired to my room to chill for a while. I resurfaced shortly after 10am and headed to the starting place for the walking tour as described in my guidebook, which happened to be outside the Skenderbeg Statue. As I mentioned in a previous post, this is a copy of an original statue erected in the Albanian town of Kruja by sculpture Janaq Paco. Put up here on Albanian National Day in 2001, the figure of Kosovo's national hero on horseback dominates the square, with the modern 'Government Building' in the background strangely dwarfed by it. The prime minister's office is based inside and there was a reasonable security presence, although not one that was too bothered about me taking photographs. It used to house the now bankrupt Bank of Kosovo and suffered collateral damage in the 1999 war when the nearby post office was bombed. It is still a target for protesters and indeed there was a tarpualin sign hanging outside the main gate with the pictures of a number of men on it. As this was in Albanian, I did not know to what this referred but it was a sign that despite everything on the surface appearing calm, there are still significant political issues in this part of the world. Reading the history of the Parliament Building - a blue glass construction around the corner from here - with the opposition setting off tear gas to delay votes in the winter of 2015-16 only seems to highlight this.
Moving on, opposite the government building sites the National Theatre, a rather brutalist construction which contrasts rather sharply with the building that now houses the United Colors of Benetton, which is one of the few remaining constructions left from the Austro-Hungarian period. Distinctive in its architecture, I quite liked this standalone building, with its loneliness emphasising a period of the city's history which has sadly been lost. Beyond here and the statue of Ibrahim Rugova, I went back on myself and into the Old Town, whose entrance is now demarked by the Carshi Mosque. Little of the rambling Ottoman Old Town remains due to a Soviet desire to erase all of this part of the city, but the mosque, built in the fifteenth century to commemorate the victory of Ottoman Forces in the region in 1389. There is scaffolding here, with the building currently undergoing repairs, but the unique stone-topped minaret has survived for over 600 years and it was a wonderous sight. There was a Turkish Bath and old bazaar here once, but the site was levelled and is now occupied bu the government buildings and the monument to Yugoslav Brotherhood and Unity, an ugly concrete prick of a thing I have already covered.
There are a number of little gems in the Old Town if you know where you are looking, such as the decorated marble fountain right behind the mosque. There were more than fifty of these at one point in Prishtina but this is the only one left, and although its entrance is effectively protected by scaffolding due to the renovation work being undertaken on the mosque, I still plucked my way through to have a look. Then a workman stared at me a while and I scuttled off. Pushing on, I got to see the fantastic Sahat Kulla or clocktower, just sat by the side of a rather busy road all locked up and alone. Dating from the nineteenth century, the original tower burned down and some of the bricks here were recycled. There was an interesting bell in the tower, having come all the way from Moldova, yet the whole building was locked up pretty tightly so all I got to see was the exterior of the tower itself. Opposite the tower is the Kocadishi House.
My next stop was the Mbretit Mosque, Prishtina's largest and most important mosque. Famed for its wonderful geometric blue and white paintings, I spent quite a while just wandering around the courtyard admiring the roof above the main entrance. Built in 1460-61 by the great sultan Mehmet II, the famed elderly men were sat outside discussing the main talking points of the day, suggesting that this is quite an important focal point of the community. As I was admiring this imposing building, the gentleman who looks after it wandered over to me and started speaking. He was very friendly and soon enough he was offering me to go inside, although we did have to conduct everything in German. Fortunately, I know enough about the language and enough about the Islamic faith to understand what he was saying, and in all honesty I was more in awe at the beautiful interior which continued the blue and white painted theme. It was a real privilege to have what was essentially a private tour of the mosque, and one with such a knowledgeable guide, and this was certainly one of the highlights of my trip. The floral motifs above the gallary and on the cupola itself were true wonders to behold. Opposite from the mosque but completely inaccessable, indeed pretty much hidden away, was the Great Hamman. You could just about see the domed brick roofs down an alleyway, largely because a shop front was built illegally here after a fire in 1994, closing off the old entrance. Restoration is slowly ongoing and it would certainly be great to see it operational again.
Another highlight was to come next as I made my way down a narrow backstreet towards the Emin Gijku Complex and Ethnological Museum, where again I had a private tour as I was the only one silly enough to visit Kosovo in mid-December. I have been to a number of ethnological museums in this region before and this place reminded me of one we visited in Bosnia last year, with its Ottoman-style kitchen and carpeted guest reception room, the latter having a wooden bench for the head of the household and his guest while everyone else had to sit on the floor, men only. Male members would serve food and coffee from the downstairs kitchen while the shelves above the benches were used to store food, so it was always available should guests come, meaning the rest of the household did not necessarily need to be disturbed. What was interesting was observing the central heating system, which extended not just to the shower, but also to the closets to keep clothes and towels warm and dry. I also quite liked the rudimentary stone sinks they had, with the water obtained from a well in the garden. The exterior balcony was also a feature of Ottoman life, while the kitchen with its range of wooden dishes was again something I have seen before. However, the curator was charming and spoke very eloquently about life here in the nineteenth century, telling me that many Kosovans in rural areas were living like this deep into the 1980s. Interestingly, this Ottoman townhouse used to belong to the Gjinolli family who were merchants and traders. There are four buildings on this site but one of them was being renovated so I couldn't visit. The one I did see was down a long narrow pathway and to the left at the far end, but to get there I had to walk past a small house on the main street, which is now an art museum. Interestingly, this is the only building that survived the desturction of the old bazaar of Prishtina.
The narrow streets here are a miscellany of new builds and delapidated old town houses, highlighting the lack of city planning that has blighted the area for a while. Little remains of the bazaar area but the Green Market, which is spread over two streets and predominantly sells fruit, is still active. However, you couldn't really spend much time here as it is situated on two roads, with cars frequently trundling their way past. This meant it perhaps lacked the atmosphere of some markets. Walking down the main thoroughfare, I was surprised to discover that it plopped me out on the road right opposite the road upon which my hotel was situated, so I decided to head back to my room for a short while to use the facilities. The receptionist was a little concerned that my room was being cleaned but there were no such worries and after a twenty-minute freshen up, I was back outside once again. I decided to head further east, beyond the Old Town to see a number of sights towards the outskirts of the city. On the way, I stopped off at a Furra, a Kosovan bakery, where I picked up a lovely chocolate patiesserie which I ate while I walked. As I did, I spied the red-brikced Sami Frasheri Grammar School, one of the oldest in Kosovo and named after the disapora that came from Istanbul during the League of Prizren and the Elena Gjika School, another one of the few Austro-Hungarian buildings still remaining. I also saw the Pirinaz Mosque, made of the same stone as Mbretit but in far more underwhelming surroundings, indeed so much so that I actually walked past it without noticing it.
I pushed on, finding myself on a main road over which there was a park with a number of derelict amusement concessions. It was like a graveyard funfair, so I popped over to have a look. Overlooking this there was a huge electricity substation, adding to the dystopian scene, but the park itself (Taukbahqe Park) looked pretty enough and there were a number of old people just sat on benches watching the world go by. My guidebook told me that this was the way to Gemia Park, the big green space in Prishtina which actually runs to the back of the bear sanctuary I had visited on Sunday. The paths were quite wide, lined with huge trees, and with the weather decent I thought it would be worth checking out. However, after about ten minutes, I reassessed this plan as although a stroll around a park would have been good, it wasn't particularly uniquely Kosovan and I was playing with limited daylight, with the time now being 1:30pm and it getting dark shortly after 4pm. Consquently, I decided to double back and turn left down the busy main road, walking past the substation and up a rather steep and lonely hill into the residential district of Velania. I was looking for Martyrs' Hill Monument, which I was told was about fifteen minutes' walk from the park. Upon climbing up the hill and navigating my way through a residential estate of well-to-do houses, I emerged on a main road that was not labelled on my map and with EE still playing silly buggers and not giving me access to data, I had to admit I was lost. I asked a rather scared passer-by whether she could direct me to Rrustem Statovci, the street I wanted, but she couldn't tell me where it was (even though, as it turned out, it was actually at the end of the main street upon which I was standing). Lost, I decided to double back, walking past the embassy of the Netherlands as I did. Now, this WAS marked on my map so I immediately knew where I was, and came to the conclusion that either my maps were wrong or they had renamed the street. Knowing where I was, I made my way back to the main road to find, annoyingly, the place I wanted being the other side of a metal fence I had been staring at all along. There was also no way the woman I asked for Rrustem Statovci did not know where it was.
Martyrs' Hill is the final resting place of Rugova, although this was not without controversy as the location of his grave was the cause of some dispute between his supporters and his opponents in the UCK, the latter not wanting him to share the same park as the graves of their fighters. The compromise was Rugova was placed in the upper part of the park and the fighters in the lower part, meaning his tomb stands somewhat alone to the others, guarded only by one security guard who spent quite some time staring at me. It is surrounded by trees, which makes it quite tasteful, but again I was alone here, which was a little eerie. However, it was pleasant enough strolling around looking at all of the graves, many of which were decrorated by large round platters of plastic flowers, although the slant of them meant that reading the names upon them was difficult. There was also a large concrete ball like monument, undoubtedly Soviet, in this park and I had no idea what it was doing there.
I decided to skip visiting the Jewish Cemetery on account of time, instead heading down Rrustem Statovci, which I eventually found at the opposite corner of the park to that which I entered. Picking up a burek from a friendly bakery on the way, I descended back into the city centre, checking out the small City Park en route. This was a neat slab of greenery and a pleasure to stroll through, although the five tough looking youths at one end of the path made me double back on myself and weave my way through some narrow backstreets before heading back into the downtown area. The mosques were in the midst of their calls to prayer, which was as evocative as ever, and as I emerged onto the main Agim Ramadani road, I was surprised to find myself right outside the Government Building once again.
Checking my guidebook, there was just a handful of places that I now wanted to see, starting with the huge Mother Teresa Cathedral at the opposite side of town. I therefore walked down Neme Tereze, soaking up the atmosphere as there were a number of wooden huts selling a range of Christmas wares. After being pestered by some taxi drivers for a ride, I made my way down the non-pedestrian part of this street towards an incredibly imposing and awesome white bricked building with a tall clocktower. Looking a bit like an American railroad station, this magnificent church which dominates the skyline on the southern part of the city was constructed between 2007 and 2010, with the foundatiion stone being laid by then-President Rugova himself. Inaugurated on 26 August 2010, the 100th anniversary of the birth of Mother Theresa, inside it's an airy yet still place, with the crispness of the new stained glass windows giving it an element of freshness. The windows at the top, letting in natural light, also add to the sense of natural light while the gold trims and numbering above each archway gave it a classical style. The arches reminded me a little bit of York Minister in its construction but my favourite bit was undoubtedly the plaques facing either side of the main entrance - a huge heavy brown door - which had the names of all the patrons of the church. The font size was different, assumedly related to how much each person paid, but I thought it was a neat way to obtain a legacy.
After dodging a couple of young girls who were trying to take selfies by the clocktower, I contined on to the main road behind the Cathedral, which so happened to be called Bulevardi Bill Klinton, spelled with a K for no discernable reason. Clinton is a huge hero in Kosovo due to NATO's military intervention and his support of Kosovan independence in 1999, and down this street there is a not incredibly lifelike statue of the former American president. Above this statue, on a poster affixed to the tower block, there is a picture of Clinton during his time in office and an advert for some potato chips, which seemed rather appropriate. And of course, there is no need to worry as Hillary also has a place near Bill too - she is a clothes store some three doors down. I did find it rather odd though that all a statue does is revere people in a way that also allows birds to shit on them, which is pretty much what happened here.
The temperature was getting down to 3C now and thus it was getting somewhat cold, but there were still a few sights left to see, so I doubled back on myself and walked past the Mother Theresa Cathedral, dipping into a toilet in a pathetic underground shopping centre before calling in on the university area. This was quite a nice green space in the centre of the city, where a number of students were wandering around pretty aimlessly. The main sight here is the Kosovan National Library, a concrete monstrocity surrounded by a metal cage in what could possibly be the most ugly building I have ever seen. There are 99 cupolas on the top of this building, largely in the shape of lillies (or the traditional Albanian pils hat), and these let natural light into the library, although not to well considering the place was rather dark when I ventured inside. I didn't stay long as you technically have to be a member of the library to be in there, so I contented myself with just walking around this building, observing the beauty of Mother Theresa Cathedral opposite and comparing it with this hideous Seventies construction. The library does have an interesting history though, it being a command and control centre for the Yugoslav Army during NATO's bombardment, resulting in over 100,000 books being burnt or destroyed. Most of the collection did survive though and today it is used for its intended purpose.
On the other side of the Library to the Mother Theresa Cathedral is a huge Sebian Orthodox Church, whose construction owes a lot to Slobodan Milosovic as it was meant to be the biggest church in Kosovo. Consequently, it's quite a controversial building and there are calls for it to be destroyed. Today, it sits forlornly and unloved on the edge of the university complex, boarded up and inaccessable, waiting for a decision as to its fate. This sense of forlornness is only enhanced by the dark red bricks and the fact the windows hadn't even been completed.
The final sights were towards the west of the city - namely the famous Newborn monument which is on all of the tourist literature and Boro Ramiz, the Youth and Sports Palace, which is where the monument is situated. Unveiled on Independence Day - 17 February 2008 - Newborn used to be formed of yellow block letters symbolising the birth of the country. The president and prime minister were invited to sign it at the opening ceremony and now everyone had added their own messages, making it look rather unkempt and tatty. On the eve of the fifth anniversary of independence, the monument was repainted with the flags of all the countries that recognised Kosovan independence and now, before every independence day, Newborn gets a new design. This year, as it was the tenth anniversary, the B and O of Newborn were replaced with the number 10. It took me quite a while to get a photograph of this due to a bearded man and his son trying to take as many selfies as possible in weird and wonderful ways.
On the other side of the road to Newborn is my favourite monunment in the city, largely because it is so unique and also poignant. Entitled Heroinat (Heroines), it is the silhouette of a woman made out of nearly 20,000 gold medals, one for each of the women violated by the Serbian forces. Overlooking all this is Boro Ramiz, a delapidated concrete shell of a building with a metal roof that makes it look like a rack of lamb. It's another ugly ediface but I decided to take a closer look, spying the poster of rebel fighter Adem Jashari, after whom the airport is named too. Boro Ramiz is named after two partisans - Boro and Ramiz - one Serb and one Albanian drawn together in Yugoslav Unity. It's quite deep, until you remember what happened here in the Nineties. Anyway, this building was built in the Seventies and frankly you can tell, but it is largely delapidated and ignored, with only the shopping centre underneath it really seeing use. Apparently it's a big meeting spot for Prishtina's youth but I didn't see much of this, instead all I saw was broken glass, destroyed lampposts and a building that only seems to be used by The Cambridge School and nothing else. Compared to the bright and shiny National Stadium across the road, which I also had a closer look at, Boro Ramiz definitely looked past its prime.
I had been on my feet all day and indeed it was going to be a record step count day for me in the end, touching over 35,000 steps, but I needed a break so I popped down Fehmi Agani which is pretty much one of the main drinking and restaurant streets in the city. Many of the restaurants had inviting yellow lights strewn around their outside seating areas, and trying to remember the bars that served Sabaja's range of craft beer, I decided to go into Kafja e Vogel for a beer. Alas, the staff there struggled to understand me, so I just got a bottle of the local fizzy, Beer Peja, which was fine as all I really needed was some time off my feet. I had been walking for the best part of six hours and yet there was still things to see, namely the excellent Kosovo Museum, where I had a personal guided tour and the Serbian church of Saint Nicholas, which was the only active Serbian Orthodox Church in the city. It's locked up now as a result of the riots which took place on 17 March 2004, which resulted in the building being set ablaze and the destruction of the iconostasis dating from 1840. The church has been restored but it looks a little sorry for itself, but then it was tucked away in a well-to-do suburb so maybe it was partly due to the underwhelming location. Either way, it was very difficult to find as it was up a hill off a side street to the main road, and I walked past this street a number of times before I could locate it.
The Kosovo Museum was my last stop of the day on account of it staying open until 6pm, meaning I could visit it once it had gotten dark. As I walked through the main gateway and towards the grand cream-coloured building, which used to be where the governors of the city lived and has since served as the headquarters of the Yugoslav Army, a kind gentleman stepped out from a glass booth to the left and said he needed to give me a guided tour. His English was impeccable and we spent a pleasant half hour touring around this modest two-floor museum which covers all of the periods of human habitation this area from pre-history onwards. The highlight was undoubtedly the Goddess, a 6000-year-old 30cm tall female statue which is pretty much the symbol of Prishtina (I also saw its picture above a clock on Nene Teresa). There were also a fair few exhibits related to the Kosovan War and, one area where there were flags of all the countries lined up in order when they recognised Kosovan Independence. The United Kingdom was one of the first.
The museum visit finished earlier than anticipated so I was back at my hotel by 5:30pm, where I decided to flop for a while. I had intended on staying there just an hour but this quickly became two, and it took some effort to drag myself back out again at 7:45pm or so. What wasn't helping was that the temperature had dipped into minus figures, but I needed something to eat and I wanted to make my last meal in Kosovo a special one. One of the restaurants that constantly kept cropping up - both in local recommendations and the guidebook - was Tiffany's which was back towards the football stadium and Fehmi Agani. Getting used to the geography of the city, I decided to walk a different way to that I was accostomed and delighted myself in finding the area pretty easy. Tiffany's itself wasn't labelled but I soon found it, the number of smokers congregating outside the modest front door being something of a clue, and soon I had sat down. The waiter ordered for me in all honesty, asking me whether this was my first time here before suggesting I had half portions of two dishes - Elbasan tava again (tender veal in a yoghurt sauce) and Mantija, a rather dry meat wrapped in pastry and covered in sour cream. Both were quite tasty but it was the warm fluffy bread that sold me, particularly when served with three tasty dips as a starter. One, the orange one, was somewhat hot with ginger fire to it but the other two were more modest and pleasant.
I had wanted to try the other Sabaja beers, having only had one of the three in their range in Prizren, so I checked their website and decided to hit one of the bars to see if I could pick them up. I initially went to Miqt but this was so busy, I decided to look elsewhere, eventually settling for Soma as it was near the hotel and I could make a shit joke about 'being in Soma' about it. Upon going through the neat wooden gateway fringed by two hedgerows, some cocky kids noticed my Britishness and started asking for money, which I ignored. The bar itself was quite industrial, with a stripped down metal scene, but I managed to find a place to stand underneath a smug looking Santa and I obtained the two Sabaja beers I had yet to try, a stout and a pale ale. Both were solid if not average varieties, but what I would expect from a new brewery or one with little local competition, and certainly the atmopshere in the bar was quite relaxed and enjoyable. Alas, I couldn't really get a seat though so I drank my two beers rather quickly, opting to head back to the hotel shortly before 10pm as I was dog tired and needed to be up at 7:30am for breakfast ahead of my flight back to Luton. Still, it was a great way to end a great little trip and while I wished I had stayed another day or two to have seen more of what this country has to offer (particularly Peja), I was rather happy with what I had seen in the three days I was there.
Moving on, opposite the government building sites the National Theatre, a rather brutalist construction which contrasts rather sharply with the building that now houses the United Colors of Benetton, which is one of the few remaining constructions left from the Austro-Hungarian period. Distinctive in its architecture, I quite liked this standalone building, with its loneliness emphasising a period of the city's history which has sadly been lost. Beyond here and the statue of Ibrahim Rugova, I went back on myself and into the Old Town, whose entrance is now demarked by the Carshi Mosque. Little of the rambling Ottoman Old Town remains due to a Soviet desire to erase all of this part of the city, but the mosque, built in the fifteenth century to commemorate the victory of Ottoman Forces in the region in 1389. There is scaffolding here, with the building currently undergoing repairs, but the unique stone-topped minaret has survived for over 600 years and it was a wonderous sight. There was a Turkish Bath and old bazaar here once, but the site was levelled and is now occupied bu the government buildings and the monument to Yugoslav Brotherhood and Unity, an ugly concrete prick of a thing I have already covered.
There are a number of little gems in the Old Town if you know where you are looking, such as the decorated marble fountain right behind the mosque. There were more than fifty of these at one point in Prishtina but this is the only one left, and although its entrance is effectively protected by scaffolding due to the renovation work being undertaken on the mosque, I still plucked my way through to have a look. Then a workman stared at me a while and I scuttled off. Pushing on, I got to see the fantastic Sahat Kulla or clocktower, just sat by the side of a rather busy road all locked up and alone. Dating from the nineteenth century, the original tower burned down and some of the bricks here were recycled. There was an interesting bell in the tower, having come all the way from Moldova, yet the whole building was locked up pretty tightly so all I got to see was the exterior of the tower itself. Opposite the tower is the Kocadishi House.
My next stop was the Mbretit Mosque, Prishtina's largest and most important mosque. Famed for its wonderful geometric blue and white paintings, I spent quite a while just wandering around the courtyard admiring the roof above the main entrance. Built in 1460-61 by the great sultan Mehmet II, the famed elderly men were sat outside discussing the main talking points of the day, suggesting that this is quite an important focal point of the community. As I was admiring this imposing building, the gentleman who looks after it wandered over to me and started speaking. He was very friendly and soon enough he was offering me to go inside, although we did have to conduct everything in German. Fortunately, I know enough about the language and enough about the Islamic faith to understand what he was saying, and in all honesty I was more in awe at the beautiful interior which continued the blue and white painted theme. It was a real privilege to have what was essentially a private tour of the mosque, and one with such a knowledgeable guide, and this was certainly one of the highlights of my trip. The floral motifs above the gallary and on the cupola itself were true wonders to behold. Opposite from the mosque but completely inaccessable, indeed pretty much hidden away, was the Great Hamman. You could just about see the domed brick roofs down an alleyway, largely because a shop front was built illegally here after a fire in 1994, closing off the old entrance. Restoration is slowly ongoing and it would certainly be great to see it operational again.
Another highlight was to come next as I made my way down a narrow backstreet towards the Emin Gijku Complex and Ethnological Museum, where again I had a private tour as I was the only one silly enough to visit Kosovo in mid-December. I have been to a number of ethnological museums in this region before and this place reminded me of one we visited in Bosnia last year, with its Ottoman-style kitchen and carpeted guest reception room, the latter having a wooden bench for the head of the household and his guest while everyone else had to sit on the floor, men only. Male members would serve food and coffee from the downstairs kitchen while the shelves above the benches were used to store food, so it was always available should guests come, meaning the rest of the household did not necessarily need to be disturbed. What was interesting was observing the central heating system, which extended not just to the shower, but also to the closets to keep clothes and towels warm and dry. I also quite liked the rudimentary stone sinks they had, with the water obtained from a well in the garden. The exterior balcony was also a feature of Ottoman life, while the kitchen with its range of wooden dishes was again something I have seen before. However, the curator was charming and spoke very eloquently about life here in the nineteenth century, telling me that many Kosovans in rural areas were living like this deep into the 1980s. Interestingly, this Ottoman townhouse used to belong to the Gjinolli family who were merchants and traders. There are four buildings on this site but one of them was being renovated so I couldn't visit. The one I did see was down a long narrow pathway and to the left at the far end, but to get there I had to walk past a small house on the main street, which is now an art museum. Interestingly, this is the only building that survived the desturction of the old bazaar of Prishtina.
The narrow streets here are a miscellany of new builds and delapidated old town houses, highlighting the lack of city planning that has blighted the area for a while. Little remains of the bazaar area but the Green Market, which is spread over two streets and predominantly sells fruit, is still active. However, you couldn't really spend much time here as it is situated on two roads, with cars frequently trundling their way past. This meant it perhaps lacked the atmosphere of some markets. Walking down the main thoroughfare, I was surprised to discover that it plopped me out on the road right opposite the road upon which my hotel was situated, so I decided to head back to my room for a short while to use the facilities. The receptionist was a little concerned that my room was being cleaned but there were no such worries and after a twenty-minute freshen up, I was back outside once again. I decided to head further east, beyond the Old Town to see a number of sights towards the outskirts of the city. On the way, I stopped off at a Furra, a Kosovan bakery, where I picked up a lovely chocolate patiesserie which I ate while I walked. As I did, I spied the red-brikced Sami Frasheri Grammar School, one of the oldest in Kosovo and named after the disapora that came from Istanbul during the League of Prizren and the Elena Gjika School, another one of the few Austro-Hungarian buildings still remaining. I also saw the Pirinaz Mosque, made of the same stone as Mbretit but in far more underwhelming surroundings, indeed so much so that I actually walked past it without noticing it.
I pushed on, finding myself on a main road over which there was a park with a number of derelict amusement concessions. It was like a graveyard funfair, so I popped over to have a look. Overlooking this there was a huge electricity substation, adding to the dystopian scene, but the park itself (Taukbahqe Park) looked pretty enough and there were a number of old people just sat on benches watching the world go by. My guidebook told me that this was the way to Gemia Park, the big green space in Prishtina which actually runs to the back of the bear sanctuary I had visited on Sunday. The paths were quite wide, lined with huge trees, and with the weather decent I thought it would be worth checking out. However, after about ten minutes, I reassessed this plan as although a stroll around a park would have been good, it wasn't particularly uniquely Kosovan and I was playing with limited daylight, with the time now being 1:30pm and it getting dark shortly after 4pm. Consquently, I decided to double back and turn left down the busy main road, walking past the substation and up a rather steep and lonely hill into the residential district of Velania. I was looking for Martyrs' Hill Monument, which I was told was about fifteen minutes' walk from the park. Upon climbing up the hill and navigating my way through a residential estate of well-to-do houses, I emerged on a main road that was not labelled on my map and with EE still playing silly buggers and not giving me access to data, I had to admit I was lost. I asked a rather scared passer-by whether she could direct me to Rrustem Statovci, the street I wanted, but she couldn't tell me where it was (even though, as it turned out, it was actually at the end of the main street upon which I was standing). Lost, I decided to double back, walking past the embassy of the Netherlands as I did. Now, this WAS marked on my map so I immediately knew where I was, and came to the conclusion that either my maps were wrong or they had renamed the street. Knowing where I was, I made my way back to the main road to find, annoyingly, the place I wanted being the other side of a metal fence I had been staring at all along. There was also no way the woman I asked for Rrustem Statovci did not know where it was.
Martyrs' Hill is the final resting place of Rugova, although this was not without controversy as the location of his grave was the cause of some dispute between his supporters and his opponents in the UCK, the latter not wanting him to share the same park as the graves of their fighters. The compromise was Rugova was placed in the upper part of the park and the fighters in the lower part, meaning his tomb stands somewhat alone to the others, guarded only by one security guard who spent quite some time staring at me. It is surrounded by trees, which makes it quite tasteful, but again I was alone here, which was a little eerie. However, it was pleasant enough strolling around looking at all of the graves, many of which were decrorated by large round platters of plastic flowers, although the slant of them meant that reading the names upon them was difficult. There was also a large concrete ball like monument, undoubtedly Soviet, in this park and I had no idea what it was doing there.
I decided to skip visiting the Jewish Cemetery on account of time, instead heading down Rrustem Statovci, which I eventually found at the opposite corner of the park to that which I entered. Picking up a burek from a friendly bakery on the way, I descended back into the city centre, checking out the small City Park en route. This was a neat slab of greenery and a pleasure to stroll through, although the five tough looking youths at one end of the path made me double back on myself and weave my way through some narrow backstreets before heading back into the downtown area. The mosques were in the midst of their calls to prayer, which was as evocative as ever, and as I emerged onto the main Agim Ramadani road, I was surprised to find myself right outside the Government Building once again.
Checking my guidebook, there was just a handful of places that I now wanted to see, starting with the huge Mother Teresa Cathedral at the opposite side of town. I therefore walked down Neme Tereze, soaking up the atmosphere as there were a number of wooden huts selling a range of Christmas wares. After being pestered by some taxi drivers for a ride, I made my way down the non-pedestrian part of this street towards an incredibly imposing and awesome white bricked building with a tall clocktower. Looking a bit like an American railroad station, this magnificent church which dominates the skyline on the southern part of the city was constructed between 2007 and 2010, with the foundatiion stone being laid by then-President Rugova himself. Inaugurated on 26 August 2010, the 100th anniversary of the birth of Mother Theresa, inside it's an airy yet still place, with the crispness of the new stained glass windows giving it an element of freshness. The windows at the top, letting in natural light, also add to the sense of natural light while the gold trims and numbering above each archway gave it a classical style. The arches reminded me a little bit of York Minister in its construction but my favourite bit was undoubtedly the plaques facing either side of the main entrance - a huge heavy brown door - which had the names of all the patrons of the church. The font size was different, assumedly related to how much each person paid, but I thought it was a neat way to obtain a legacy.
After dodging a couple of young girls who were trying to take selfies by the clocktower, I contined on to the main road behind the Cathedral, which so happened to be called Bulevardi Bill Klinton, spelled with a K for no discernable reason. Clinton is a huge hero in Kosovo due to NATO's military intervention and his support of Kosovan independence in 1999, and down this street there is a not incredibly lifelike statue of the former American president. Above this statue, on a poster affixed to the tower block, there is a picture of Clinton during his time in office and an advert for some potato chips, which seemed rather appropriate. And of course, there is no need to worry as Hillary also has a place near Bill too - she is a clothes store some three doors down. I did find it rather odd though that all a statue does is revere people in a way that also allows birds to shit on them, which is pretty much what happened here.
The temperature was getting down to 3C now and thus it was getting somewhat cold, but there were still a few sights left to see, so I doubled back on myself and walked past the Mother Theresa Cathedral, dipping into a toilet in a pathetic underground shopping centre before calling in on the university area. This was quite a nice green space in the centre of the city, where a number of students were wandering around pretty aimlessly. The main sight here is the Kosovan National Library, a concrete monstrocity surrounded by a metal cage in what could possibly be the most ugly building I have ever seen. There are 99 cupolas on the top of this building, largely in the shape of lillies (or the traditional Albanian pils hat), and these let natural light into the library, although not to well considering the place was rather dark when I ventured inside. I didn't stay long as you technically have to be a member of the library to be in there, so I contented myself with just walking around this building, observing the beauty of Mother Theresa Cathedral opposite and comparing it with this hideous Seventies construction. The library does have an interesting history though, it being a command and control centre for the Yugoslav Army during NATO's bombardment, resulting in over 100,000 books being burnt or destroyed. Most of the collection did survive though and today it is used for its intended purpose.
On the other side of the Library to the Mother Theresa Cathedral is a huge Sebian Orthodox Church, whose construction owes a lot to Slobodan Milosovic as it was meant to be the biggest church in Kosovo. Consequently, it's quite a controversial building and there are calls for it to be destroyed. Today, it sits forlornly and unloved on the edge of the university complex, boarded up and inaccessable, waiting for a decision as to its fate. This sense of forlornness is only enhanced by the dark red bricks and the fact the windows hadn't even been completed.
The final sights were towards the west of the city - namely the famous Newborn monument which is on all of the tourist literature and Boro Ramiz, the Youth and Sports Palace, which is where the monument is situated. Unveiled on Independence Day - 17 February 2008 - Newborn used to be formed of yellow block letters symbolising the birth of the country. The president and prime minister were invited to sign it at the opening ceremony and now everyone had added their own messages, making it look rather unkempt and tatty. On the eve of the fifth anniversary of independence, the monument was repainted with the flags of all the countries that recognised Kosovan independence and now, before every independence day, Newborn gets a new design. This year, as it was the tenth anniversary, the B and O of Newborn were replaced with the number 10. It took me quite a while to get a photograph of this due to a bearded man and his son trying to take as many selfies as possible in weird and wonderful ways.
On the other side of the road to Newborn is my favourite monunment in the city, largely because it is so unique and also poignant. Entitled Heroinat (Heroines), it is the silhouette of a woman made out of nearly 20,000 gold medals, one for each of the women violated by the Serbian forces. Overlooking all this is Boro Ramiz, a delapidated concrete shell of a building with a metal roof that makes it look like a rack of lamb. It's another ugly ediface but I decided to take a closer look, spying the poster of rebel fighter Adem Jashari, after whom the airport is named too. Boro Ramiz is named after two partisans - Boro and Ramiz - one Serb and one Albanian drawn together in Yugoslav Unity. It's quite deep, until you remember what happened here in the Nineties. Anyway, this building was built in the Seventies and frankly you can tell, but it is largely delapidated and ignored, with only the shopping centre underneath it really seeing use. Apparently it's a big meeting spot for Prishtina's youth but I didn't see much of this, instead all I saw was broken glass, destroyed lampposts and a building that only seems to be used by The Cambridge School and nothing else. Compared to the bright and shiny National Stadium across the road, which I also had a closer look at, Boro Ramiz definitely looked past its prime.
I had been on my feet all day and indeed it was going to be a record step count day for me in the end, touching over 35,000 steps, but I needed a break so I popped down Fehmi Agani which is pretty much one of the main drinking and restaurant streets in the city. Many of the restaurants had inviting yellow lights strewn around their outside seating areas, and trying to remember the bars that served Sabaja's range of craft beer, I decided to go into Kafja e Vogel for a beer. Alas, the staff there struggled to understand me, so I just got a bottle of the local fizzy, Beer Peja, which was fine as all I really needed was some time off my feet. I had been walking for the best part of six hours and yet there was still things to see, namely the excellent Kosovo Museum, where I had a personal guided tour and the Serbian church of Saint Nicholas, which was the only active Serbian Orthodox Church in the city. It's locked up now as a result of the riots which took place on 17 March 2004, which resulted in the building being set ablaze and the destruction of the iconostasis dating from 1840. The church has been restored but it looks a little sorry for itself, but then it was tucked away in a well-to-do suburb so maybe it was partly due to the underwhelming location. Either way, it was very difficult to find as it was up a hill off a side street to the main road, and I walked past this street a number of times before I could locate it.
The Kosovo Museum was my last stop of the day on account of it staying open until 6pm, meaning I could visit it once it had gotten dark. As I walked through the main gateway and towards the grand cream-coloured building, which used to be where the governors of the city lived and has since served as the headquarters of the Yugoslav Army, a kind gentleman stepped out from a glass booth to the left and said he needed to give me a guided tour. His English was impeccable and we spent a pleasant half hour touring around this modest two-floor museum which covers all of the periods of human habitation this area from pre-history onwards. The highlight was undoubtedly the Goddess, a 6000-year-old 30cm tall female statue which is pretty much the symbol of Prishtina (I also saw its picture above a clock on Nene Teresa). There were also a fair few exhibits related to the Kosovan War and, one area where there were flags of all the countries lined up in order when they recognised Kosovan Independence. The United Kingdom was one of the first.
The museum visit finished earlier than anticipated so I was back at my hotel by 5:30pm, where I decided to flop for a while. I had intended on staying there just an hour but this quickly became two, and it took some effort to drag myself back out again at 7:45pm or so. What wasn't helping was that the temperature had dipped into minus figures, but I needed something to eat and I wanted to make my last meal in Kosovo a special one. One of the restaurants that constantly kept cropping up - both in local recommendations and the guidebook - was Tiffany's which was back towards the football stadium and Fehmi Agani. Getting used to the geography of the city, I decided to walk a different way to that I was accostomed and delighted myself in finding the area pretty easy. Tiffany's itself wasn't labelled but I soon found it, the number of smokers congregating outside the modest front door being something of a clue, and soon I had sat down. The waiter ordered for me in all honesty, asking me whether this was my first time here before suggesting I had half portions of two dishes - Elbasan tava again (tender veal in a yoghurt sauce) and Mantija, a rather dry meat wrapped in pastry and covered in sour cream. Both were quite tasty but it was the warm fluffy bread that sold me, particularly when served with three tasty dips as a starter. One, the orange one, was somewhat hot with ginger fire to it but the other two were more modest and pleasant.
I had wanted to try the other Sabaja beers, having only had one of the three in their range in Prizren, so I checked their website and decided to hit one of the bars to see if I could pick them up. I initially went to Miqt but this was so busy, I decided to look elsewhere, eventually settling for Soma as it was near the hotel and I could make a shit joke about 'being in Soma' about it. Upon going through the neat wooden gateway fringed by two hedgerows, some cocky kids noticed my Britishness and started asking for money, which I ignored. The bar itself was quite industrial, with a stripped down metal scene, but I managed to find a place to stand underneath a smug looking Santa and I obtained the two Sabaja beers I had yet to try, a stout and a pale ale. Both were solid if not average varieties, but what I would expect from a new brewery or one with little local competition, and certainly the atmopshere in the bar was quite relaxed and enjoyable. Alas, I couldn't really get a seat though so I drank my two beers rather quickly, opting to head back to the hotel shortly before 10pm as I was dog tired and needed to be up at 7:30am for breakfast ahead of my flight back to Luton. Still, it was a great way to end a great little trip and while I wished I had stayed another day or two to have seen more of what this country has to offer (particularly Peja), I was rather happy with what I had seen in the three days I was there.
