Eastern Europe

I guess Yugoslavia wasn't a long enough name for these guys, so they called their country Bosnia-Hercegovina.

What's with the long name?

Back in the 15th century Herceg (Duke) Stjepan Vukcic ran the show. So they named Hercegonia after him. I guess Hercegonia is a better than a literal translation which would be "Dukeland."

I'm not sure how Bosnia came up with its name, but the country is made up of these two regions. Hence, Bosnia-Hercegovina, or just Bosnia for lazy people like me.

Now Bosnia gets its two cents

If you managed to read my last book, I mean, email, then you have a bit of a background on what happened in Bosnia. After visiting Serbia, I figured I'd now get the Bosnian perspective. This story is so complicated, but I'm determined to understand it and hear all sides. Just getting to Sarajevo (the capital of Bosnia) was a lesson in the aftermath of the war.

I had to pay off a bus driver in Belgrade, Serbia to get on the bus. Earlier that day I had bought a ticket for the 10PM bus. Turns out the ticket seller didn't understand my crappy Serbian and sold me a ticket for the 10AM bus. The bus driver told me to refund the ticket (where I get 90% of the value) and then give him the cash. He pocketed the cash and let me board the overbooked bus.

I sat next to Marco, an Italian polyglot, for the 8 hour overnight ride. Marco, Maria (a Swede), and I toured much of Sarajevo together. When we arrived, we realized that we far from the city center. Kinda stupid, we thought. The reason was that we were in the Serb Republic in Bosnia.

Serb Republic in Bosnia

Near any border, there is almost always an overlap with the neighboring country. For example, many Mexicans live in the US communities that border Mexico. The legal ones are called Mexican Americans.
Same goes for Bosnia. You had many Serbs living in Bosnia. Hence, the term Bosnian Serb. These Bosnian Serbs (who are Christian Orthodox) felt greater affinity to Serbia than to Bosnia (who are mostly Muslim or Catholic). So when Bosnia demanded independence from Yugoslavia, the Bosnian Serbs disagreed and started a war over it.

Slobodan Milosevic, leader of Serbia, was happy to support the Bosnian Serbs, because he wanted to expand Serbia's size. He figured that if Serbs dominate a certain region in Bosnia, then that region should become part of Serbia.

That's like Fidel Castro telling the US that Miami should be part of Cuba, since mostly Cubans live there. OK, to make that analogy work you have to pretend that the Miami Cubans would also want to be part of Cuba. And that's a bit of a stretch of the imagination.

But the Bosnian Serb region wasn't contiguous, so the Serbs (with Milsoevic's support) proceeded to clean out the area of those who weren't like them. Those who were not Orthodox had to go or be killed. That's like the Cubans of Miami forcing out everyone in southern Florida who can't dance well.

The Bosnian Serbs succeeded and today there is a contiguous region that is 95% Serbs. That region is called the Serb Republic of Bosnia. Although part of Bosnia, it is quite independent, yet not part of Serbia.

That's the result of the 1995 Dayton Accords. Why they went to Ohio to settle this Balkan dispute is a mystery to me.

They still don't get along

We thought the bus from Belgrade would put us in the center of Sarajevo. Instead it left us on the outskirts of Sarajevo, which is in the Serb Republic. Why can't they drop us off at the city center? Because the Serbs and non-Serbs still hate each other so much that they can't even share a stupid bus station!

None of the ATMs in the Serb Republic accepted the cards from a Swede, an Italian, and an American. So we took a taxi and paid in Euros to make the final couple of miles to Sarajevo.

Siege on Sarajevo

Sarajevo is beautiful city nestled among mountains. Wood panelled shops line a nice pedestrian street. What makes the city cool is that it's a perfect blend of Muslim, Catholic, and Orthodox religions. For instance, I walked into Christian Churches and while having a drink I heard a Muslim on a Islamic mosque minaret announcing the call to prayer.

I encourage you to visit, especially during the winter. I can see that it was a great location for the 1984 Winter Olympics. Sadly, ten years later Sarajevo would be a victim of the longest siege in the history of modern warfare.

The siege of Sarajevo lasted from 1992 to 1995. It was fought between the forces of the Bosnian government (who had declared independence from Yugoslavia) and Serbian paramilitaries (who sought succession from the newly-independent Bosnia).

An estimated 12,000 people were killed and another 50,000 wounded during the siege. I saw all the new grave stones near the Sarajevo stadium. It's a sobering site.

An average of approximately 329 shell impacts per day during the course of the siege, with a high of 3,777 shell impacts on July 22, 1993. They have painted the shells on the streets, so now they look like flowers.

I walked down "Sniper Alley" where they are still plenty of signs of artillery holes.
This is as close as I've been to a war zone. If you pay attention the war scars still dot the city, but it's peaceful now.

During the siege Sarajevo citizens had to cut down cut down and burned park trees and benches to keep warm during the winter. How did they eat?

The secret tunnel

Using just simple shovels, the Sarajevo civilians dug a 1km tunnel out to the airport to get supplies from the Red Cross. This was the life line to those who were stuck in the city. NATO bombings finally ended the siege. Here's a case when a country was dying for the US to intervene, but we took our time.

The aftermath

In a way, the Bosnian Serbs got what they wanted. The Serb Republic in Bosnia is almost its own country, although they share the Bosnian currency. They evicted all the non-Serbs out of their region. The only thing they didn't get was being able to part of Serbia.

Although the Dayton Accords said that everyone has a right to return to their original house, few do. After all, if you were a Muslim or Catholic would you move into the Serbian Republic of Bosnia after that war? Let's just say you might not feel too welcome.

Meanwhile, the Bosnians returned the favor and forced most Serbs out of the areas in Bosnia where they were a small minority. Those innocent Serbs also aren't too keen to return to their former homes.

All this fighting for basically one reason: religious intolerance. They speak the same language, they look the same, and they're all nice to me.

My education in the Balkans continues....

September 14, 2004

Once again people warned me not to go to their neighboring country and to be very careful. I’m so used to hearing such warnings and so used to finding out that they are exaggerations that I just nod, smile, and buy my ticket anyway.

But this time, I was a bit wary. In the previous edition of Lonely Planet they list the Bottom 10 things in Eastern Europe (the new edition doesn’t have this list). Number 8 is “Most of Bulgaria.”

That’s pretty sad. Especially when you see that the rest of the list consists of specific places like some country's National Museum of History. It kinda sucks when experts simply say that your entire country stinks.

A rude awakening

Bulgaria certainly didn't give me a good intro. It wins the award for the bumpiest ride I've taken in Eastern Europe (Albania is a close second). It was an overnight bus from Skopje, Macedonia. I felt I was trying to sleep on a jackhammer.

Sofia doesn't suck

Sofia has a million people, is at the foot of the cool Vitosha mountain range, and is the highest capital in Europe (545 meters / 1600 feet). Although I raced through Bulgaria's capital, I was impressed with it.

There are a couple of monuments (Church and Roman Ruin) that the city has built around.

The highlight is an enormous church dedicated to the 200,000 Russians who died fighting the Turks to help give Bulgaria its freedom.

It helps to follow the map for the rest of my journey.

Rila monastery

From Sofia I headed south to Rila Monastery. UNESCO Protected, it's an amazing site. It's nestled in the magical and inviting Rila Mountains.

Backpacking in the Rila mountains

Audrey, my host in Skopje, lamented that she doesn't get to go backpacking because the Macedonians aren't into it. For example, one Macedonian guy she was with wanted to hike up a mountain on the paved road with the cars instead of the steeper dirt trail. Who are these guys? Do they get pedicures too?

I flashed Audrey my Appalachian Trail credentials and we headed up the Rila Mountains. It was quite cold. We camped right where the tree line ended because I feared morning dew. We woke up with frost on the tarp. Little did I know that would be the last time I would sleep under my treasured tarp.

Losing the tarp

We climbed up to the 7 lakes, despite warns that the trail was treacherous and that the huts were closed. It was magnificent.

I had the bright idea to do some cross country trekking. That was fine until we took a break. I pulled out the tarp to get to the food.

Audrey's knee was swollen so I told her to get moving while I packed up. She probably would have noticed that I left the tarp behind. My beloved tarp. The one I used throughout the Appalachian Trail. Now gone forever. Lost on a lonely mountain, off trail, near a pile of snow. Snow will bury it soon. I suppose that for a tarp it's a good way to go.

I will miss my tarp.

Trail magic

Although my backpack was quite light after the break, I just figured it was because we consumed food and water. I didn't realize my tarp's absence was the other cause.

On the way down, we met two friendly Bulgarian geologists. They offered to drive us 10kms out of their way to get us to a town south of Rila. We made an invisible camp in the city and it was there that I realized that my tarp wasn't around. I was very sad. :-(

It's strange, I've broken my camcorder and lost nearly half my luggage, but losing my tarp bummed me out the most.

Almost pilfered in Plovdiv

We took a 6AM bus to Plovdiv and soon after we arrived, a well dressed woman tried to pick pocket Audrey's backpack. Although a bit distraught, we shrugged it off.

About 30 minutes later, two 12-year old girls also tried.

Audrey's been ripped off before in Bulgaria. Not sure why they don't target me. Maybe I look poor. I'm certainly not alert. I'm still not sure if my cell phone was swiped or if it just fell off.

In retrospect I should have leveled all these women, but I was too dumbfounded by the experience. Maybe I was too chicken. The 12 year old might have a mean left hook....

Ignoring the pilfering women, Plovdiv was a nice town. The old town is packed with 18th and 19th century homes. It also has a coolest Roman ruin in the country. Nevertheless, Plovdiv is nothing spectacular, but still worth a stop if it's on your way to some place cooler.

Audrey had to go back to work, so I bid her farewell and then studied Bulgarian history.

Some real old history

I get so tired of hearing Europeans sniff at the short history of America. Most of the civilized history in Europe is around 1,200 years old. Big deal. America is about 500 years. Both of us are toddlers compared to the Egyptians and Persians.

So I got excited when I learned about the Thracians who came out of the Bulgarian caves and created a real civilization from 6000 BC to 2000 BC. OK, so they were making cute bronze objects while the Egyptians were building pyramids, but at least the Bulgarians can go back that far for their culture.

Here come those nationalists

Turks dominated Bulgaria so strongly that they nearly forgot their origins. But a monk wrote the first complete history of the Slav-Bulgarian people in 1762. Who knows how much he made up, but today Bulgarians take it as fact. Yes, winners write history. He traveled across Bulgaria reading the history to illiterate people and igniting a long-forgotten national identity.

In 1877 Russian finally beat the Turks. Turks ceded 60% of the Balkans to Bulgaria. But the western powers, in all their wisdom, decided to nullify that and redefined the Balkan borders. Those borders haunted the peninsula ever since: during the next 67 years each Balkan country fought up to six wars over border issues!

For example, to finally get rid of the Ottomans, they had the first Balkans War (1912). A year later the winners fought each other and Bulgaria lost.

Bulgaria tried to remain neutral during WWII, but Hitler forced them to join him. When the tide turned against the Germans, the Bulgarians tried to swap sides and join the Allies. No luck: Russia invaded Bulgaria and blessed them with communism.

In the first elections in 1990 Bulgaria had the dubious honor of being the first country in the former USSR to elect communists back to power.

Today Bulgaria is struggling. The EU rates it low on a variety of metrics. The most telling sign is that the population has actually fallen by 503,000 people since 1992. Ayn Rand predicted it: the engine of the economy has stopped after years of oppression.

Armed with that info, I entered the historical city of...

Veliko Tarnovo

Veliko Târnovo, capital of the Second Bulgarian Empire (1185-1393), is laced with history. The Yantra River winds through a gorge in the centre of the city and picturesque houses cling to the cliffs.

The ruined Tsaravets Citadel, almost encircled by the river, was a vast fortress sacked by the Turks in 1393. The rebuilt Church of the Blessed Saviour at the top of the hill has the best wall paintings I have ever seen. It's very modern (done in 1980s) and quite cool.

You can look down on the foundations of the ruined Royal Palace, home to 22 successive tsars. Execution Rock is a daunting bluff directly to the north, where traitors were once pushed into the Yantra River.

Veliko Târnovo is the best town I saw in Bulgaria. Try to check it out during their summer light and sound shows.

Heading to the border

Although I wasn't the target of thieves, for once someone's warnings about the thieves in Bulgaria was true. They exist. OK, so they're not very good at their craft, but they're around.

Romania was the next country on my list. Logic told me that I should get as close as possible to the border. I went to Ruse, Bulgaria. The ruse of taxi drivers wasted my time. They told me there was a way to get through the border, but there isn't. You can't even walk across the border and there are no buses on the other side. I'll tell you what happened in my next email.

Reversing my southbound journey

In this trip, like my Appalachian Trail thru-hike, I have been steadily going south. Dublin, Finland, and Estonia were nice in June. Now they're freezing, while I was in shorts in the Balkans.

But the bad news is that I'm turning around and heading up north into Romania, Moldova and Ukraine. October here isn't like California. Temps are freezing at night and snow dusts the mountains. I'm looking forward to Turkey.

I really want the Venetians to invade and take over America.

Just think, we would finally have some really beautiful cities in the USA. And some good pizza and pasta too.

The Venetian Empire spread down the Croatian Coast. I just wish they had spread all the way to America, because they just did a fabulous job with whatever city they touched.

The Dalmatian coast

The Dalmatian Coast is the crown of Croatia, and the city of Dubrovnik is the finest jewel on that crown. Here's a simple map.

Maria (the Swede) and Marco (the Italian) walked me to the train station in Sarajevo and bid me farewell.

I arrived late at night in Ploce, Croatia, which is near Baina on the map. I camped and took the 5 a.m. ferry to a small island, hoping to cross it by bus. No bus on Sunday. So I hitchhiked with a guy who was delivering bread. I bought some bread off him to thank him, even though he wanted to give it to me for free. 

From that small town I hopped on a ferry to Korcula.

I meet my match in Korcula

Korcula is pronounced "Core-chu-la". Marco Polo, the ultimate world traveler, made this trip I am on look like a daily commute for him. He started his trip across Asia from his little house in Korcula. It's still there, although not in great shape.

Polo's journey through Asia lasted 24 years. He reached further than any of his predecessors, beyond Mongolia to China. He became a confidant of Kublai Khan (1214-1294). He traveled the whole of China and returned to tell the tale, which became the greatest travelogue.

Although the temps were warm, the citizens told me that it gets quite windy and cold in the winter, although it never snows. So the smart Venetians built a high wall around Korcula to block the wind and made tight convoluted little streets to also deter the
wind. It makes for a delightful city.

Off to Hvar

I crossed the island of Korcula by bus to get to Vela Luka, a simple but cute town. I grabbed the ferry to the town of Hvar.

Hvar is another spectacularly romantic city at the base of several small hills. At the summit of a hill is a castle that's worth checking out.

I slept in Hvar and took a crowded bus to port of Stari Grad. While an Italian couple looked after my bags I ran a couple of miles to the old town of Stari Grad (which means "Old Town" in Croatian). Stari Grad was another cute town with a rich Venetian heritage. I ran back just in time for my ferry to Dubrovnik.

The diamond of Dubrovnik

I saved the best for last and took a 7 hour ferry to Dubrovnik. Just the ferry ride itself was marvelous, passing endless islands along the Adriatic Sea. I sat outside, reading a book while reveling in the warm temps.

Dubrovnik is like Venice's ugly sister. But Venice is such a hot sister, that Dubrovnik is still incredibly beautiful.

It's a horrible crime that the Serbs shelled Dubrovnik during the war. It had absolutely no military value. They ravaged the city with bombs. Fortunately, the Hague also thought is was a bad idea and sentenced the Serb admiral for 7 years in jail:

International aid helped repair Dubrovnik. The upside is that the rooftops and cobble stoned streets are all new.

Maybe the Serbs should shell San Francisco....

Being macho

See this picture?

I swam from Dubrovnik to that island. It looked pretty close, but after 45 minutes of swimming I realized that it's not. Luckily no motor boats ran me over and I only cramped up at the end.

The best part of swimming to the island is that the ferry doesn't check for tickets so you save $6 bucks. ;-)

But bring sandals because walking all over the island on bare feet is more challenging than swimming there. There are a couple of old buildings, including a fort to see there.

The only downer

The only negative on Dubrovnik is that it's like a NY grid in a bowl. So it misses the charm of many Venetian designed cities which have circuitous streets and random plazas sprinkled around for variation. But it least the edges have mini hills that adds a cool dimension.

Go to Dubrovnik. It's the poor man's Venice and that's still pretty darn good.

Zipping through Zagreb

When I was going from Slovenia to Hungary, I stopped for 24 hours in Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. It's a very nice city, with an old section on a hill. For fun I went to a Tolkien's Cafe, which has a Lord of the Rings feel to it. You don't need to linger there, but it's worth a peek if you're flying into it.

Croatians aren't saints either

The past two emails have made the Serbs look like the bad guys in the conflict. But as the Serbs like to remind me, the Croats were allied with the Nazis and did some of their own ethnic cleansing in the 1990s when they pushed Serbs out of Slavonia, a popular Serb region in Croatia.

Croats will tell you that the Serbs started it. That's correct. After all, all the weapons in Yugoslavia were in Serbia. So there's no reason why the Croatians would start a war with Serbia. It's like Estonia attacking Russia.

Although all parties share part of the blame, I conclude that the wars in the Balkans during the 1990s were basically the fault of the Serbs. After all, when I ask them what started the conflict, they get flustered and bumble through the answer like child who is guilty and knows it. Meanwhile, the non-Serbs give a crisp and clean answer: "The Serbs started it."

The average tourist has no clue of any of these tensions. So you can visit the Dalmatian Coast and delight in one of the most beautiful regions of the world.

Wild coincidence

I was waiting in line to buy my bus ticket to from Dubrovnik to Montenegro when I turned around and saw Marco and Maria! I thought I would never see them again after we parted ways in Sarajevo, Bosnia.

Maria decided to explore Croatia some more before returning

home to Sweden. Marco and I bid her farewell and then boarded the bus to Montenegro.

My adventure in the Balkans continues...

September 17, 2004

Every time I told Americans that I was going to spend 5 months traveling in Eastern Europe they would all say, "So you're going to Prague?"

For most Americans Prague is Eastern Europe. Ironically, it's the least Eastern European city in Eastern Europe. It might as well be in France. The only difference is that the Czechs are actually nice.

Yes, Prague is great

OK, I've said it. Yes, go visit it. It's awesome and romantic. Certainly on my Top 5 major cities in Europe, and it may be in my Top 5 in the world.

But go elswhere

For example, check out Ceský Krumlov, which is one of Bohemia's most beautiful towns, with a well-preserved historical centre that is on UNESCO's World Heritage List. The city's castle is the second largest in the Czech Republic, after Prague Castle, and it dominates the town from a hill overlooking a horseshoe-shaped bend of the Vltava river. The town's traffic-free historic centre is a magic area of narrow cobbled streets lined with Renaissance and Baroque facades.

Or see Ceský Budejovice, which is near Krumlov. It has a romantic square and charming streets that will send you back into the 18th century.

Or go to Brno (pronounced "Bruno"). The second largest city in the country, I thought it was lovely (see picture on this page).

Foreign languages spoken here

It's nice that 20% speak English, up for 10% in Poland and 1% in Belarus.

It's a big relief because I didn't want to learn Czech. After all, try to say this Czech phrase: "Strc prst skrz krk."

The Czechs assured me that it is not hard, because it's pronounced exactly how it is spelt.

"Thanks for the tip," I tell them, "but that really doesn't help me much."

What does it mean anyway?

"Stick your finger through your neck."

I prefer "motherfucker."

By the way, when I was in Belarus I found out that in the last five years the Belarussians are now using "motherfucker" as an insult. Before that, no one said it. So now we have three great exports to Belarus: McDonalds, Coke, and Motherfucker.

OK, let's get serious again.

A bit of history

Here's a few random facts on the Czech Rep:

• Celts, Germans, Slavs were all running around here since the 4th century.
• The Thirty Years War (1618-1648) started in Prague and went on to destroy most of Central Europe. I stood in the room where it all started. Two important Catholic dudes were thrown out a window after a dispute with some Protestants. The event was called the 'Defenestration of Prague' which is latin for "out of the window."
• The war led to the Germanisation of the area and the oppression of the Czech language and culture.
• 200 years later the Czechs started remembering their roots.

Why Czechoslovakia was born in 20th century

After WW I the Czechs and the Slovakians were like two whimpy kids in a playground of bullies.

Tired of being beat up by the Germans, Austrians, Hungarians, and Russians, these two kids said, "Hey, let's join forces and maybe we can take on these big boys."

The problem was that the Czech was like an 9 year old and the Slovaks like a 8 year old. Both too puny when dealing with teenagers, but the slightly stronger Czechs dominated the smaller Slovakians. So the relationship was always tense, except when they had to face the rotten Nazis.

Those mean, bad, evil Nazis again

Under the Munich Pact in Sept 1938 Britain and France agreed not to oppose the annexation of part of Czechoslovakia to Germany. With friends like these....

Of course, the Nazis just took over the whole country within a year and installed Reinhard "Hangman" Heydrich as the leader. But on May 29, 1942 Czechoslovak resistance fighters parachuted in from London and killed his ass.

Friendly tip: It's not good to piss off the Nazis.

As payback, the Nazis razed the village of Lidice, 25km of Prague, and shot every single male living there. And then they deported all the women and children to concentration camps. Nice guys.

More "nice guys" show up

The Soviets liberated most of the country and then occupied it for 40+ years.

The whole industrial sector was nationalized and the government's economic policies nearly bankrupted the country. In the 1950s non-communists fled or were imprisoned. Hundreds were executed or died in labor camps, often for little more than a belief in democracy or religion. Stalin purged (i.e., executed) many leaders, even high ranking members.

In the 1968 Prague Spring, the communist head of Czechoslovakia tried to be the Gorbachev of his time.

No luck.

Moscow retaliated by making 500,000 party members lose their jobs. Many educated professionals were made street cleaners and mnual laborers. Dissidents were routinely imprisoned.

But in 1989 the Wall broke apart and a few years later so did Czechoslovakia.

Why did Czechoslovakia break up anyway?

Because the name was too *$@#* difficult to spell!!!

I asked a couple of young Slovakians why Czechoslovakia broke up.

"I don't know," said one.

"Politics," answered the other.

Gee, great. Thanks.

Strangely, it's not easy to find the answer. And it's even harder get a consensus on if it was a smart move, even 12 years after the fact.

Some say that the Slovakians really wanted independence from the stronger Czechs. They were tired that all of Czechoslovakia's government functions were in the Czech side, not the Slovak side. They wanted respect.

Meanwhile, some say that Czechs wanted to break up because the Slovaks were dragging them down, just like East Germany was dragging West Germany down after they united. Czechs also felt that having Slovakia was hurting their chances to get in the EU.

Some folks on both sides thought it was a stupid move.

The most common opinion was that most were against the breakup, but that the oversized egos of the politicians made it happen.

Reunion coming

Ironically, they both got in the EU at the same time. Now they have different currencies, but in a few years they will both have the Euro. Border crossings will be even easier than they are now (which are already super easy). In short, Czechoslovakia will be united again.

In other words, the Czechs don't seem to have gained much from the breakup.

Meanwhile, it seems that the only thing that Slovakia has managed to accomplish with the breakup is confusion about its name. After all, doesn't Slovakia sound just like like nearby Slovenia?

August 24, 2004

Finland is one of these nearly perfect societies.
Everything works.
Cities are clean.
There is no crime.
People are nice.
It is just that the winters suck.

Most people don't know where Finland is. The answer is simple: it's where Santa Claus lives. Really. Even the Indians know this.

Somewhere north of Europe lies this country called Finland that's about 80% the size of California. Here is a map so you can follow along my 10 day adventure.

Hiking all  "night " at the Arctic Circle on Jue 21

I celebrated the longest day of the year by going way north (east of Kemijärvi) and hiking the 80km (57 mile) Karhunkierros Trail. If you can say the name of that trail, you deserve a trip to Finland. It means the "Bear Trail."

It starts at a place called Hautajärvi, which means "Grave Lake."

With such cheerful names I wondered if it was smart hiking this trail alone.

The rangers say it takes 4-6 days to hike it. However, I figured I would pack light and walk it in less time. Little did I know that a remote outhouse nearly stopped me cold.

Getting locked in an outhouse

I started my hike at 5:30PM and planned to hike all night. After all, the sun doesn't set when you're above the Arctic Circle on the Summer Solstice. So it really doesn't matter when you hike.

At 11PM I ate some food in a deserted cabin and then went to use the outhouse. Outhouses have locks on the outside to prevent rodents and other creatures who love feces from getting in.

Somehow the outside latch closed, locking me in this smelly outhouse with just a thin rain jacket on. The temperatures at night would be around 5 degrees Celsius, or 40 degrees F. Nobody was around.

"This stinks," I thought.

I tried all sorts of non-violent ways of getting out, but then I thought, "Wait. I am an American. Therefore, I must love violence and be a brute. Hell, I even voted for Arnold as my governor. What would he do?"

I decided that the old fashioned, just-bang-the-door-down method was best.

After 20+ kicks (and nearly falling into the toilet), I managed to break out.

The good news it that I didn't break the lock. The vibrations just made it unlatch. I breathed a sigh of relief (and some fresh air), and hiked the rest of the night.

80 km in 30 hours

I stopped at a cabin in Jussinkämppä at 6:30AM. After 13 hours of hiking I had covered 45 km or over 30 miles.

I woke up four hours later. I walked the last 35 km, finished by midnight, and stayed at an adorable one person cabin at the pinnacle of a mountain with 360 degree views. What a great ending!

What was my secret for covering 80km in 30 hours?

Endless sun and some fine friends pushing me along: a horde of mosquitoes.

Only seeing the occasional reindeer would make me stop. And seeing Santa Claus too.

Hitchhiking towards Oulu

I hitchhiked back to Kuusamo with a 36 year old Turkish man who had been living in Lapland for 17 years after marrying (and divorcing) a Finnish wife he originally met on a French beach.

Interestingly, this former body builder was completely pro-Bush and the war in Iraq. Maybe that's why he hasn't gone back to Turkey for a while.

I arrived in the west coast port city of Oulu. This quaint seaside town was fun to walk around. This French asshole was harassing this lovely Finnish girl named Outi, so I boldly intervened. OK, I really didn't know any of this was going on, but Outi did and kindly invited me to join her and some friends for some drinks by the wharf. Before bidding farewell, I learned a bit about the Finns.

So what are the Finns really like?

They were voted, "The Country Least Likely to Start World War III" for good reason. They are a peaceful people. Almost... too peaceful.

First came the Swedes who conquered them and ruled them for a while.

Did you know that Swedish is the official second language in Finland?

Yes, it's a legacy from the imperialist Swedes. Many signs are written in Swedish and Finnish.

So do the Swedes speak Finnish? Of course not. After all, Swedish is far more widely spoken than Finnish, right? It is almost as popular as Norwegian.

But the pacifist Finns just take it. They let themselves be forced to learn the useless Swedish language instead of telling the Swedes the same thing the French told the Germans: "Listen, you assholes, if you want to talk to me, you talk to me in English!"

Speaking of Germans....

Did you know that the Finns were allied with the Nazis?

The Finns are quick to point out that they didn't have a choice.

"We were only following orders....!!"

Seriously, the big Russian bear invaded their country. The USA wasn't helping defend them because we were still neutral. So Hitler looked like the only guy around who could take a good swipe at Stalin.

Like Israel, the Finns took back their territory and then some. But unlike Israel (who didn't side with the Nazis, by the way), the Finns got pushed back by the end of the war.

The Nuremberg Trials taught the Finns not to side with the Third Reich: they were forced to cede more of their territory to the Russians as punishment. This bummed them out, which lead to another problem....

Did youknow that the Finns drink a lot?

Like most northern countries, these guys drink like fish. They say it's because there is nothing to do during the dark, cold winter months. Good point.

Did you know that the Finns almost never get angry?

They are so calm it's creepy. The Germans are almost as stoic, but at least they get mad every once in a while and start a world war.

Even the Finns admit that they are horribly shy (unless they drunk). However, I found 99% of Finns to be very friendly and helpful once you start talking with them. They are good people, and we could all learn something from them, especially on how to kill yourself.

Did you know that the Finns have the highest suicide rate in the world?

Well, they don't.

The non-confrontational Finns do not vehemently deny this often cited statistic. It is wrong.

However, Finland does make the top 10. They have 9 former Soviet satellites beating them out for the top prize of blowing your head off.

My guess is that pre-1989, those suicide stats were not available from the Soviet Union, because they were trying to give us the impression that Communism produced happy people.

So Finland got stuck with the suicide label.

Did you know that "Did you know..." questions can be annoying?

So I will stop.

I returned to Helsinki and visited a Medieval town (Porvoo), the former capital of Finland (Turku), and the southern most point of Finland (Hanko).

Finland was a great, wonderful country, filled with honest, helpful, and good-hearted people. I truly enjoyed myself.

Then again, most Finns told me that if I came in the winter time I might have a different impression....

Next stop: Estonia!

Tomorrow I take a hydrofoil across the Gulf of Finland. The boat trip takes a couple of hours and puts me into Tallinn, the picturesque capital of Estonia. My trip to Eastern Europe will finally begin....

June 29, 2004

I think I know the only Hawaiian in history who has a summer home in Hungary.

Hell, just the concept of a Hawaiian having a summer home is a bit odd.

The fact that it's on the other side of the planet makes it especially wacky.

Hungarian and Hawaiian couple

played volleyball with Steve Rodgers, a Hawaiian, at Amherst College. He married a Hungarian, Zsuzsa, and now they have 3 adorable kids. We hung out for 3 days and I had a chance to meet another Hungarian couple.

One reason Europeans fight each other

I mentioned to Steve and Zsuzsa that I was going to Romania in a month. And Steve's wife said, "Yeah, they used to be part of Hungary."

Kaman, one of Steve's friends, said that the Bosnians don't like the Hungarians partly because the Hungarians used to rule them. Indeed Hungary is a third of a the size it used to be and it seems they think about that fact often.

But Hungarians aren't the only ones who look back at their former empire. So often in Europe I hear people say things like, "That region used to be part of our country."

• Finnish people lament that Russia took a piece of their country.
• In separate time periods the Third Reich of Germany and Napoleon's France had a huge chunk of Europe until the Russians beat them back.
• Over the centuries Poland has expanded and contracted like an accordion.
• Even little Lithuania was once an empire that went from the Baltic to the Black Sea.

Perhaps Estonia is the only country has always been tiny. OK, sometimes it didn't even exist.

That partly explains why Europeans have been fighting each other for centuries. After all, if you go back far enough, nearly every country in Europe was bigger than it is today. It just takes some guy who really resents this and rallies other like minded people to join him. And then, presto! Instant world war!

Americans would have similar laments if the Mexicans took California back. Oh wait, that's happening already....

Why Prague is Better than Budapest

Lonely Planet ranks Budapest as the #1 attraction in Eastern Europe and Prague as #2. Prague should be #1.

Kaman said Hungarians are baffled why Prague gets far more tourist than Budapest. The answer is simple:

• Budapest has a fraction of the pedestrian zones that Prague has.
• Prague has most of its attractions compressed in a tight area, whereas Budapest has them spread out.

The car exhaust in Budapest made my eyes itchy and watery. Meanwhile, Prague has a myriad of quiet and charming streets.

Of course, Budapest is still incredible; otherwise, Lonely Planet wouldn't have ranked it #1. But Prague is best.

No more racism against me

When I roaming the northern countries (Finland, Baltics, etc...) I went through this conversation a couple of times:

"You know, Francis, some people won't trust you and will look at you suspiciously."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you're dark."

"Huh? I'm as white as a toilet bowl!"

"No, look at your skin," they say. "It's dark. And your hair is black."

"I suppose I should be glad that I'm getting so many gray hairs...."

Many people thought I was Turkish. I flashed them my Al-Queda ID card and assured them I was just from Saudi Arabia.

At least I'm not darker. I was so shocked to see one black dude in Belarus that I had to talk to him. He was from Nigeria. He told me that every 2-3 hours a policeman would harass him for documents. One time he interrogated him for 4 hours, trying to squeeze some money out of the poor student. The Nigerian didn't give in and they finally let him go.

Now that I'm south of those northern countries, I blend into the populace. But that doesn't mean discrimination is non-existent. I'm about to enter Serbia, infamous for its ethnic cleansing of the Bosnians, Croatians, and Albanians.

Imagine this: America invades a Muslim country to drive out a repressive regime and the Muslims love us forever after, and even name their most important street after a US President.

Welcome to Kosovo.

It’s what Iraq was supposed to be.

Border crossing

I bought my bus ticket to Prishtina, Kosovo’s capital. I knew it’s an ugly city, but I was more interested in meeting the people than seeing the sights.

At the heavily fortified border, I saw tons of United Nations vehicles and personnel. The border guard glanced at my American passport and gave it back to me. That’s a good sign, I thought. Maybe they like us.

Just English

I normally like to learn and speak the local language, but here I decided I would only speak English. Why? I read a book about Kosovo which told of one case when an ethnic Albanian asked a young Bulgarian UN worker in Serbian for the time. The Bulgarian politely replied in Serbian, thinking he was talking with a Serb. The Albanian thought he had found a real Serb, so he took out a gun and shot him dead.

So English only, I thought. No Albanian and no Serbian. “Just English” was my mantra.

I’m used to traveling throughout Eastern Europe feeling illiterate. I pass endless signs that say things in a language I don’t know. But for some odd reason I could read nearly all the signs in Kosovo. I could easily understand store signs, billboards, and menus. I guess it helped that they were all in English.

With all the relief workers and NATO soldiers running around, it makes sense that most signs are in English. After all, they’re the best customers with lots of Euros to spend.

Yes, although Kosovo is still officially part of Serbia (and is being administered by the UN), it doesn’t use the Serbian Dinar. They use the Euro, just like Montenegro, which is also part of Serbia. It’s rare to find a country that has two official currencies.

Can you imagine if you had to change your dollars when you went to the East Coast of the US? One country, two currencies. Balkan logic.

A police state

When I stepped out the bus I was nervous. I was in Kosovo. It’s been nasty and dangerous here for the last five years.

But 60 seconds wouldn’t pass before I saw a UN vehicle, a police SUV, a military vehicle, or uniformed security guard on the street. The tight security was most impressive. And the cost of it was most depressing. I’m helping foot the bill, so I guess I should be glad that I’m benefiting from it.

Bill Clinton blvd

As I walked into the center of Prishtina I couldn’t believe what I saw: a massive picture of Bill Clinton smiling and waving at me.

It is 6 stories high. Next to the picture it read in huge letters, “Welcome to Bill Clinton Boulevard!”

I blinked a few times and took another look. The picture was still there. I checked my medications.

Another block I saw a new building called Hotel Victory. What was most distinctive of this hotel is that it had a small replica (7 meters / 25 feet tall) of the Statue of Liberty.

Is it possible that the Kosovars like us that much or is this “imperialistic” America imposing its icons on this Muslim region?

Crashing a Kosovo party

Albanian music was blaring just a few blocks from the Prishtina’s city center. About 100 people were having a party. A few were well dressed, but many where in jeans and nice shirts. The food smelled good. “Time to meet the locals,” I thought.

I boldly plunged in with my big backpack, T-shirt, and jeans. Although I got a few curious looks, I eventually started talking with the Kosovars.

The party was for RTK (Radio Television of Kosovo) employees. I told a couple that I was from America. They smiled and offered to go sit somewhere and talk.

“Who do you consider your allies in the region? Your best friends?” I asked.

The woman said, “America!”

“Why?”

“Because they helped us.”

“Why did we help you?” I pressed.

“Because I think America understands what it means to be human.”

“Would you say that most Albanians in Kosovo like America?” I asked.

“Yes! We love America and are very grateful.”

Now I started to get curious. “You’re Muslim, right?” She nodded. “Why do you think that Muslims here in Kosovo love Americans so much and see us as liberators, but that many Muslims in Iraq hate us?”

A gnarled expression swept across her face. “What? Muslims don’t hate America! Don’t equate Muslims with those terrorists! We’re not terrorists! Those terrorists in Iraq aren’t Muslims!”

I calmed her down, afraid that she might blow herself up.

She enthusiastically offered to introduce me to Fatmir Bajrami, a Cameraman Supervisor for the station. He is an Albanian who has been married to a French woman for 24 years in Kosovo. Albanians don’t like the French because they side with the Serbs frequently. But she’s survived.

I drank some orange Fanta and ate lots of hamburgers and sausages while I waited for Fatmir. Can’t find pork anywhere in Kosovo.

Balkan history, Kosovo version

Fatmir had tan skin, gray hair, and dark intelligent eyes. He had filmed Nixon, Reagan, Bush, and Clinton. He had traveled the world. I hoped he would fill the gaps in my knowledge.

Although he spoke English well, his French was a bit stronger so we spoke in French.

“What does Kosovo want?” I asked, “Do you want to become part of Albania?”

“No,” he said firmly. “We want to be a completely independent country. We want all Kosovars, not just the ethnic Albanians who live here, to live in peace as an independent country.”

“Albanians who live in Montenegro, Serbia, and Macedonia have tensions in each of those countries. Why? Why do Albanians not like to integrate with the country they are in?”

“You have to understand the history,” he told me.

Oh great. Here we go again. At least he spared me from regurgitating the glorious Illyrian history.

He drew a map of the Balkans. He showed how Albanians overflow into Macedonia and Montenegro. Those border towns are primarily made up of Albanians. He said Kosovo has been over 85% Albanian for centuries, even under Serbian/Yugoslavian rule.

Serbs would dispute this. After 1913, when Kosovo became part of Serbia again (after a 500 year break), Serbs started moving into Kosovo. After WWII Serbs represented almost 50% of Kosovo.

But after WWII, Serbs started moving out and Albanians started moving in. Although I couldn't find a family with more than 4 kids, it's true that Albanians reproduce faster than anyone else in the Balkans. Combine that with a steady Serb exodus from the rural province for more prosperous urban areas of Serbia, and you get today's minority Serb population in Kosovo.

Fatmir explained, “Albanians live in all these regions because they used to be part of Albania prior to the First Balkan War of 1912. After that war, parts of Albania were divided among the victors.”

“So they don’t integrate because they feel like it’s their land that’s getting occupied?”

He nodded.

“What do you think of the Serbians?”

“Well, they’re descendents of slaves. They came out of Russia and are still trying to live on this land.”

Boy, I’m glad a Serb didn’t overhear that comment. He implied that Albanians are the natives and the Serbs are immigrants still disoriented in this land. Ouch.

Serbs have been here for over a thousand years. At what point are you a native and no longer an immigrant? And why should that matter anyway?

I saved my best question for last. “Do you think those regions in Montenegro and Macedonia, which have heavy Albanian representation, will become independent or part of Albania/Kosovo?”

He ominously said, “No… not yet. Maybe later.”

Shivers went down my spine.

Some anti-Albanians say that Albanians have a grand multigenerational plan to reestablish their “Greater Albania.” Talking with Fatmir I began to see that some Albanians do indeed have this dream.

Trail magic in Kosovo

With my stomach full of meat and Fanta, I grabbed a bus to Prizren, the most picturesque town in Kosovo.

I told the bus driver before I bordered that I only had dollars and no Euros because all the banks were closed on Sunday. He patted me on the back and said, “No problem, my friend!”

“My friend?” No Eastern European bus driver has been that cheerful. He said it such a way that implied that I wouldn’t have to pay.

The bus was one of the nicest in Eastern Europe. Your tax dollars at work. It had a TV which displayed a scantily clad female dancing. No singing. Just gyrating. Are we in an Islamic country or not?

I asked the guy who sat in front of me if he spoke English. He did. I asked if I could sit next to him and talk. He enthusiastically agreed.

When the ticket collector came by I mentally prepared to explain in simple English why I didn’t have Euros. Then I heard Shpejtim, my neighbor, say “Dy,” which is the Albanian word for “two.”

“Wait, wait…” I said, “Here take $5, don’t pay for me.” He didn’t even know that I didn’t have Euros. He was paying for my $3 Euro ride (which isn’t cheap for Kosovo) regardless of what I said.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“Because I will never, ever forget what you Americans did for us. I am very grateful. You saved us,” he said with deep sincerity.

Shpejtim fled to Switzerland when the war broke out and is still working there. His generosity, friendliness, and good sense of humor were overwhelming. Good, that will allow me to ask tough questions.

“Why don’t you wear a white hat?” I asked.

He laughed. “Only old, traditional Albanians wear that hat. It means nothing. You don’t have to wear it. It’s like people from Texas wearing a cowboy hat. It’s not religious, it’s just fashion. But young people don’t wear it. It’s no big deal.”

“When you immigrate to America,” I explained, “You must learn English. Forget about creating Spanish only public schools, for example. English is our language and it’s what helps keep us together. Why do Albanians insist on having Albanian schools in Macedonia and Montenegro?”

“Why not?” he retorted. “When I am a minority in a country, like Switzerland, I learn the language. I speak German well. Nobody wants to have an Albanian school there. All Albanians who live there learn the local language, of course. But once we’re over 50% of a country, why shouldn’t we have schools, especially in areas where our representation tops 85%?”

Good point. Look at Switzerland, after all. One small country, three official languages. Living in peace. Well, sort of.

Shpejtim told me, “When I go to the French part of Switzerland, I know they also speak German, but they don’t want to speak German with anyone. So I have to speak to them in English, even though it’s not very good. Why? Why do they not want to speak German and instead talk in English? Why? I don’t understand.”

Maybe because German just sounds bad, I thought.

Shpejtim also spoke Serbian because Kosovo was under Serbian rule for so long, so he speaks four languages. His intelligent answers made me think deeply.

Kosovo has made me ask myself, “What is a nation?”

Why can’t Macedonia, Montenegro, or Serbia have regions that speak Albanian anyway? Who says a nation must have just one language and culture? Plenty of nations function with more than one language:

• Finland’s west coast speaks Swedish. All Finns must learn Swedish as a second language.
• Canada’s Quebec speaks French (and almost declared independence over it a few years ago).
• Spain’s Catalan region doesn’t use Spanish as its first language.
• India has a billion languages.

Albanians have a point. Who says everyone in Macedonia has to speak Macedonian? Why can’t Albanians and Macedonians co-exist side-by-side in peace? Why do Macedonians make such a big deal about it? It’s just a language.

Kosovo isn't unique

As hard as it was for me to understand the Balkans, Fatmir suggested that the problem isn’t unique:

• England has its trouble with Northern Ireland.
• Spain has the separatists Basques.
• Mexico has Chiapas revolutionaries.
• Russia has Chechen rebels.
• China has Tibet that wants independence.
• Africa is just one big mess.

Throughout the world ethnic minorities that may have different languages or customs than the majority fight for representation or liberty. This is especially true when the majority makes the minority feel like 2nd class citizens.

Staying with a Kosovo family

Shpejtim asked if I had a hotel reservation. I didn’t, because I wanted to camp in Kosovo.

“Stay with my family! I’ll take you to my house, and if it’s OK, then you stay. If you don’t like, then you can go. No problem!”

I can’t resist staying with a local when I get a chance.

My meat orgy was still in my stomach, when Shpejtim’s mom fed me more fresh tomatoes, goulash soup, and a succulent dumpling. It was all delicious and his family was delightful.

And then the power went out.

Within seconds they brought out candles and electric lanterns. “How often does this happen?” I asked.

“A couple of times a day,” they shrugged.

Indeed, the cities of Kosovo are extremely loud. This is mostly because all the stores have small Honda gas powered generators running on the sidewalk. Since they’re one after another, the whining decibel level is quite high.

I asked about a dozen people in Kosovo how many kids per family they had to see if they really did have huge families. The common answer was 2-3 kids for city folk and 3-4 kids those in the countryside. They might have 10-12 in a household, but it’s because they’re living with grandparents and other relatives, which is common in non-western countries.

I am deeply grateful of Shpejtim and his family. He confirmed that Albanians truly do have incredibly big hearts.

But also Shpejtim gave me hope for the Balkans. His ability to speak rationally and calmly about this difficult subject was refreshing. Moreover, he never condemned all Serbs or Macedonians. He always emphasized that a minority of each of those groups cause most of the problems. Likewise, he admitted that Albanians aren’t perfect either. If more in the Balkans can learn Shpejtim’s ability to forgive and his desire to move on, then there is hope.

Interrogating Germans in Kosovo

Prizren is a nice town with a river slicing through it and hill rising above the city. As in everywhere in Kosovo, people were building new structures everywhere. So I was surprised when I saw that a certain section in Prizen right next to the river on a hill was in shambles. The fire scars and collapsed roofs testified to the war.

But with all the construction going on, you’d think they would rebuild this nice neighborhood that has a perfect location. As I approached I saw a sign “WARNING: KFOR Zone. Use of weapons permitted.”

KFOR stands for Kosovo FORce. It’s the NATO peacekeeping force.

The sign implied that you may be shot on sight.

So I went for a stroll through the destroyed neighborhood.

It finally dawned on me why the Albanians hadn’t rebuilt this. This must have been a Serbian neighborhood. Duh!

I took pictures of the kitchens in shambles. The broken windows. The overgrown gardens. Dilapidated living rooms. It was sad to think that Serbs, most who were completely innocent, once lived in these houses along these narrow quaint streets. Their homes were destroyed simply because they were born in the wrong region.

I later learned that a few months ago (March 2004) angry Albanians sought revenge and went on a rampage through Serb neighborhoods. Albanians also destroyed nearly every Orthodox Church they could, brick by brick.

I saw an Orthodox Church high on the hill, partially destroyed, and protected by a KFOR troops.

I carefully stepped over shattered glass and fragments of metal and wood throughout the street. I wondered if some Serbs or Albanians planted mines here to discourage what I was doing.

Then suddenly a man in camouflage appeared with a massive automatic rifle in his arms.

I smiled, feeling quite vulnerable.

“Hallo,” he said. “Sprechenzi deutsch?” he asked.

“Enshuldigun, ich spreche kine deutsche,” I answered. Which I think means, “I surrender, mighty Nazi!”

The man had the German flag on his KFOR uniform. He was pretty scrawny and had shaded glasses. He was a geeky German with a really big gun. He didn’t speak English, but he pointed to my camera and shook his head.

Oh great! I could use my favorite German word, “Das ist VERBOTEN?”

“Jah,” he nodded.

I showed him the three pictures I took on of the KFOR area with my digital camera and asked, “Verboten?” He said “Jah” to everyone. I deleted all three. He seemed happy, but still didn’t smile.

He escorted me to the church on the hill. There was a bunker made out of sandbags and barbed wire all around the church. Germans were standing guard totting huge automatic machine guns.

I asked to talk to a soldier who could speak English. A man whose belly indicated he had drunken a few too many German beers came over.

Since I was talking to a German, I got straight to the point, “Who do you think should be blamed more for all the atrocities in Kosovo, the Serbs or the Albanians?”

He took a step back, looked at the horizon and said, “I think it’s the Albanians.”

He had only been there six months and would be there another six, so he missed out on all the stealing, raping, and killings that the Serbs did before. But I wanted him to elaborate.

“For example,” he continued, “The Albanians broke into a Serbian doctor’s house, made him watch as they murdered his wife and all three of his kids. Today this doctor is insane. He babbles and has completely lost his mind.”

“How long will we stay here?”

“20 years,” he said with his thick German accent. “I’m serious. I think they want us to stay. We build roads and houses for them. And it’s all free for them. Provide free security. But they’re crazy.”

“Why?” I wondered.

“We’ll build five houses for the Serbs and a gang of Albanians will come and burn them down. Then we’ll build five houses for the Albanians and a gang of Serbs will come and destroy those houses.” He sighed, “I don’t understand these people.”

“What about this Serb neighborhood, are the Serbs going to try to live here again?” I asked.

“Yes. I don’t understand them. Their neighbors burnt down their houses, but they say, it’s my house and I want to live there." He continued, "If I come to America and people say, ‘Fuck you German,’ I’ll leave and go somewhere else. But these Serbs insist on living here. I just don’t understand these people.” He shook his head.

“Is it worth it to walk to the top of this hill?” I asked him.

“Yeah, you will see an old fort and a good view. But if you come here at 10PM or so, you’ll see at least 50 young kids marching up the hill to…” he thrust his hips out.

“I see,” I understood, “Not very Muslim of them is it?”

He smiled. Before heading up the hill I asked, “Do you foresee more problems?”

“Yes, we’re waiting for the October 22 election in Kosovo. We expect violence.”

I felt bad for these poor Germans. They’re so orderly and civilized. And they must live in this mess. What goes through their head when they look at the chaos here?

Trapped in Kosovo

I tried to leave, but the bus never showed up. While I was waiting I talked with an ethnic Albanian who was born and raised in Macedonia. The Macedonian regions of Tetovo and Gostivar are 80% Albanian. The entire country is 35-45% Albanian, depending on who is counting. Most ethnic Albanians round up and say that half of Macedonia is Albanian.

“It’s terrible that the Macedonians don’t make any effort to learn Albanian,” he told me.

“Why should they?” I asked. “You’re all living in Macedonia after all, not Albania.”

“But we make up a large percentage of the region.”

“OK,” I told him, “Let’s say a bunch of Kenyans move to your country and become a pretty significant part of the population in a region. What would you say if they tell you, ‘Hey buddy, you should learn to speak some Kenyan!’”

“But that’s different,” he said, “This isn’t their native land. Albanians have lived in this region before it was Macedonia.”

“Do you know who owned California before the Yankees? Mexicans. But no Mexican who comes to California today would dare tell an American that he should learn to speak Spanish. The Mexican knows that he is in the United States and it’s his responsibility to learn English, not our responsibility to learn Spanish.”

He was speechless and then said he was going to look into where the bus might be. I don't think he liked me because I never saw him again.

Given all my tough questions throughout the Balkans it’s amazing that I haven’t offended more people or been ethnically cleansed.

Camping in Kosovo

Since I missed my bus, it was a perfect opportunity to join my fellow Americans and set up camp in Kosovo.

I was disappointed that the bus didn't come when it was supposed to, so I didn't want to contribute money to the overpriced hotels. Since there is a ton of construction throughout Kosovo, it was easy to find a place that was under construction. I walked up to the 3rd floor and became the first person to sleep in this apartment. Although I could have had nightmares about a lunatic Serb or Albanian finding me there and cleansing me, I slept like a baby.

My wish comes true

The Balkans is incredibly complicated. Trying to understand this place makes my little head hurt.

In an effort to understand the people who live here, I've tried to imagine the same thing happening in the United States. The closest analogy is the influx of Mexicans. I wanted to talk to a real Mexican living in the US and ask him if many Mexicans could identify with the Albanians.

My dream came true just as I was leaving Kosovo. On the bus to Macedonia I sat next to a stocky, tan skinned, 50ish man with slicked back black hair. He lives in south Texas and was born in Mexico. He has six children. His Spanish accent was obvious when he spoke. Although he spoke English well, we switched to Spanish. I had a fascinating conversation with him.

“Do you think the situation with Mexican Americans is similar to the one here in the Balkans?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Why not?”

“There’s just too much hate here. The hate is so deep.”

“Do any of your Mexican friends wish that there were Spanish-only public schools in America?”

“No, we just want to come and work in America,” he told me.

“The Mexican population in the US is exploding. If they get critical mass, do you think that they would ever want to separate from the US, like the Albanians in Macedonia, Serbia, and Montenegro?”

“No, Mexicans have no interest in that.” He continued, “I don’t understand these Kosovars. They don’t learn from others and have no interest in assimilating. I'm looking forward to going home."

It's nice to be loved again

Throughout Eastern Europe, I've gotten some pretty lukewarm responses when I tell them that I'm from the USA. One mother at a Zagreb train station said, "San Francisco? Oh. America. I hate Americans. And I hate your President."

Yeah, it was a pleasant conversation.

But in Kosovo everyone gave me wide smiles and their eyes twinkled with delight. I realize that it's only because we defended them, but I don't care. It feels good that at least one part of the world that loves Americans.

Kosovo's future

Throughout the Balkans I asked people how things were going. Most people in Montenegro, for example, said that things were getting worse and they had little hope. Kosovars, on the other hand, were consistently optimistic about the future. The sad irony is that they’re both wrong.

Montenegro and Kosovo are both small areas, but Montenegro has a rich coastline that it can exploit like Croatia. Kosovo has almost nothing. No manufacturing, no major food export, no financial center, no capital markets, nothing.

I looked out of my bus window and wondered:

• Who will invest in Kosovo? The risk is so high and the reward is so low.
• Who will trade with Kosovo? Its neighbors who hate them?
• What will happen when NATO pulls out and stops giving them free money? Their fragile economy will collapse.

Eventually they will realize that they need to join forces with Albania to complete the dream of a Greater Albania. Although that change could happen peacefully, few major changes in the Balkans ever do.

Who's right?

After visiting Kosovo, the Balkan puzzle was complete.

Although I kind of understand this complex region, the solutions are still not obvious.

Like the Jews and Arabs, the folks who live in the Balkans dwell on the past and refuse to forgive and move on. Similarly, both sides are so inflexible and unwilling to compromise.

Ethnic Albanians need to learn to integrate in whatever nation they live in. Meanwhile, those governments need to make the Albanians feel like equal citizens.

However, it's unlikely that this will happen. Those who dream of a Greater Albania will forge ahead until their dream is complete. As long as Albanians feel oppressed, those revolutionaries will continue to have followers.

My cell phone gets stolen

Someone stole my cell phone. It might have fallen off my hip belt on the bus from Kosovo to Macedonia. Someone might have swiped it then. Or a thief might have pilfered it off my hip as I was getting off the bus.

The biggest pain is re-entering all those cell phone numbers.

My watch and camcorder broke. My cell phone gone. Random clothes abandoned. My heart stayed in Kotor, Montenegro. I think I will leave my brain in Bulgaria.