Fushe Kosova

Sorry it's been another two weeks! Time passes by here SO quickly, you would not believe it! I actually only have five weeks left here, I'm already a little sad just thinking about it. I actually have really exciting things to blog about! I will have to take things one step at a time though and only blog about one day first.
Last Friday I met some random travelers, an Italian girl, a Turkish guy, a Finish guy, and a Dutch guy. Friday night was fun, but not important, in fact it could probably be a whole other blog entry! Anyways, the Italian girl, Sarah, and the Turkish guy, Avi, said that on Saturday they were planning on going to a small village outside of Fushe Kosova, which is about 20 minutes outside of Pristina. I thought, well I’m not doing anything tomorrow and I have not really been to a village yet except for the graduation, so I should go. So I went!

We met up the next morning and set out on our journey. One important detail here is that Avi had an accordion with him. I am still not exactly sure why he brought it with him everywhere. All I know is that he played it incessantly; every step of the way we had music in the background and it always lingered in the back of my thoughts. After a while, it got quite annoying to say the least.
So we get off the bus and we have no idea where we are, because we know the village is somewhere outside of the small city of Fushe Kosova, but we do not know where. We look for some food, any kind of food really would have been okay, and we soon found some burek. (I am only adding this so you get a sense of what kind of food I eat here.) I am not sure if I mentioned it before, but Burek is a pastry. It is greasy bread on the outside, and either has white cheese or meat on the inside. I usually choose the cheese option; I am not a huge fan of mystery meat. Sarah and Avi decide that they first want to go to the train station because Sarah has this romantic idea of taking the train somewhere the next day. I try to tell her that the trains here anything but romantic and nice, but she insists. We make our way to the station, and it is nearly empty except for a couple of old men sitting at the train station coffee shop talking. This scene is completely typical in Kosova – there are always old men sitting around drinking coffee.

We went outside near the tracks and saw this ten year old girl sitting there by herself. She had really short hair, like a boy cut, which is a little unusual here for girls. Her clothes were a little dirty and you could tell by looking at her that she is Roma and not Albanian. Avi makes it his mission to befriend this little girl and starts talking to her. Obviously she does not speak English, so I laughed at him for his effort. I go over and say ‘My name is Ashley, what’s yours?’ in Albanian, but she just stared at me blankly. It was either because of my horrid accent or because she was too shy, I am still not sure what was the cause. We tried and tried to communicate with her, but she would not say anything at all. She finally took Sarah’s hand and led us somewhere, so we decided to follow.
We walked across the train tracks, and suddenly see a village. The houses look like they are straight out of Borat and there is garbage coating the street. We walk for a while and we realize we’re now lost and do not know where we are, great. Suddenly we see this horse-drawn carriage/trolley coming towards us. I kind of laughed at first, because although it is something so typical to see in villages here, the initial sight of it is always a little surprising. The horse was carrying two men, and the cart behind the horse had piles of old metal wire, plastic containers, and a computer screen monitor with a huge crack through it. The men stopped to try to talk to us. We soon realized that everyone we saw would immediately come and see us because they had no idea what foreigners would ever be doing in their village. I think they were more interested in us than we were in them.

A woman then emerged from one of the little houses and started talking extremely quickly. We all had a confused look on our faces, and then she laughed. We tried to speak to her in every language possible, and then decided what would be best would be a mixture of English, German, and Albanian. Well, it sort of worked. She said her husband was collecting trash all day, and would sell it in a market for 5 Euro. She then invited us inside for coffee.
We walked past the door and her garden was filled with trash. Not necessarily trash like your average daily trash, but junk: old toys, a random shoe, big pieces of metal, things that most people would throw away and never think about again. On the right there was a big faucet where water would normally come out, but Sofia (the woman), said “Ska ouji” (I have no idea how to spell this), which means ‘no water’ in Albanian. We had to take off our shoes before entering her house, which is customary here. I am always hesitant when I do this at people’s houses because I’m afraid of either people stealing my shoes or getting weird fungus on my feet. Anyways, it is important to be polite, so I did it. The downfall of this courteous custom is that the inside of many people’s houses smell like feet and it was no different here.

Sofia led us into a room, and it was nearly empty. There were just cushions on the floor and some weird flowers dangling from the ceiling. In the corner there was a TV from the 80’s, and I am pretty sure it didn’t work. I actually have some pictures posted on my website, so maybe it is better to look there. Sofia generously offered us a Red-Bull copy-cat drink called ‘Red Dog’ or something, and it tasted much like red bull. Her rules of hospitality made her keep offering us more, and we kept drinking it to be polite. So the tree of us drank a 2 Liter bottle of energy drink. I realized I really had to stop because we were unlikely to find a bathroom for the rest of the day.

Sofia then asked if she could try to play Avi’s accordion. Then after playing some music, she decided she wanted to teach Sarah and I how to dance, so then Avi played music while a seriously bad attempt at Albanian folk dancing ensued. We settled back down after realizing our attempts at dancing were futile and the conversation turned a little more serious. Sofia talked of her Bulgarian descent, and how she had to immigrate to Kosovo because she did not have legal documents. As Ashkali in Bulgaria, she said she was not considered a real citizen. The war in Kosovo enabled her to come here and become one of the many forgotten minorities. After the war, she said that Kosovo gave documents to all of the minorities, so it was easy for her to obtain documentation for herself and her children. So we talked about a lot with Sofia, but we wanted to go meet even more people, so we politely told her that it was time for us to continue on.

We left her house and thanked her again, and as soon as we left her house, a group of kids came running towards us. They were mostly from around 5-12 years old. They expected us to speak Albanian for some reason, and kept talking, even though I repeatedly said “I don’t speak Albanian” in Albanian. It turns out, being able to say you don’t speak a language really only means that since you can say a couple words, you obviously can say much more. We wandered along the dirt road with a growing number of kids at our heels, and we came upon a little mini-market. The owner came out, and he was a little old-ish man, missing a couple fingers from each hand. We was really friendly though and his English was the best we encountered so far, meaning he could hold a little bit of a conversation, and he asked us if we would take pictures with him in front of his store, as if we were some kind of celebrities. By this time, there were many thirty kids surrounding us, and some of them were teenage boys who knew a little bit of English, but found the situation so hilarious they would only say a couple of words, like asking for our e-mail addresses.

The owner of the store then invited us back to his house for a couple of drinks. We accepted, of course! We walked to his house, which was by far the nicest house in the neighborhood. The first distinction is that it was a real house, and the garbage in front was replaced with beautiful flowers and a nice lawn. I also saw running water out of a fountain. This was a dramatic contrast to Sofia’s house, however it was only a ten-fifteen minute walk away. The man’s very old mother came out to greet us, she was very sweet and nice looking but could not speak any English. The man’s 18 year old son then came out, and he spoke some English since he was at university. Another big difference of this family was education: Sofia’s kids could not afford school, but this man’s kids were all in college. He then offered us some kind of RC Cola, and we sat down on a real couch. They had a big flat screen TV and it was playing the movie “Chasing Liberty” with Mandy Moore – it was so random! The man then started talking to us about what being Ashkali was like; he said Ashkali originally came from Persia over a hundred years ago, but I heard from many people different stories about their origins. In fact, it is hard to trace the exact descent of many Ashkali. He said this small village actually had 5,000 people in it, and there used to be more but during the war many Ashkali left. The conversation we had was interesting, but they were more reserved and less vivacious than Sofia. After a little while, we decided to leave and thanked them.

As soon as we left their house, the scores of kids soon crowded us again. This time, I took out my camera to take a picture. I still cannot decide whether this was a mistake or not, because as soon as I took one picture, each kid individually wanted their own picture taken. They started pushing each other out of the way and fighting over who I would take a picture of next. They were all quite cute though, and I think meeting us was possibly the most exciting thing that has ever happened to them. One girl in particular liked me and walked next to me the whole time and held my hand. I even got her e-mail address and I’ve been meaning to e-mail her the pictures I took. She was so amazed and confused when she saw my eyebrow piercing. Soon they all gathered around and pointed at my eyebrow and touched the piercing then winced at the idea of how painful it must have been to get it pierced. Honestly, it really did not hurt very much, and it was so long ago I do not really remember how it felt. Not that many people in Kosovo in general have piercings though, especially facial piercings, so this was probably the first time little kids in a village ever saw it, and boy were they confused.

The kids followed us for the next hour or so until we found our way back to the train station. I probably took over one hundred pictures of them, but only put some online. It was really cute meeting all of them, and showed me how people who have so little can be so appreciative and generous with what they do have to offer. It was really interesting going into Ashkali homes and seeing the diversity and different situations each of them find themselves in.

I think there is a lot more I can say about this day trip, but I already wrote enough, and congratulations to you if you made it this far! I will hopefully write more sometime soon about my other exciting stories!