Front Matter - Part 01

Macedonia the Land of Legends

My First Trip to Macedonia

By Risto Stefov

Macedonia the Land of Legends

My First Trip to Macedonia

Going to Macedonia

I had always thought about going to Macedonia but had not considered it seriously, that is until recently. I had no passport but only used that as an excuse to delay going. One day I was invited to visit Steve Pliakas, a friend of mine, when the subject came up and he urged me to get a passport. That was about a year ago and yes Steve and I had decided we were going to go to Macedonia together but that plan did not pan out. This prompted me however to get going on getting a passport. Nothing was said after that until my book “History of the Macedonian People” was translated into Macedonian and published in Macedonia. After a few promotions in Bitola, Shtip and other places, Iskra, the publishing house, thought it would be a good idea if I, the author of the book, was present at the Skopje promotion. So through my friend John Givens here in Toronto I was contacted to see if I was willing to go. My first reaction was “no” but after some arm twisting I said “yes”. Now it was only a matter of when. But after finding out that the Detsa Begaltsi (Macedonian Refugee Children from Greece) were having their 4th International gathering after 60 years in Skopje, I decided it was now time to go. This may be hard to believe but for a “Skopjan Spy”, as some Greeks love to call me, I had never been to Skopje or to the Republic of Macedonia for that matter. As soon as I decided it was time to go, I contacted Dragitsa Belchevska from Win Travel and had my flight reservations made. Without any expectations, I decided two weeks would be enough for me to do the book promotion, attend the Begaltsi gathering and visit my relatives whom I had never seen before. I made sure I was on the same plane with my friends John and his wife Tsena who were also going to Macedonia for similar reasons. Dragitsa booked me on the same Malev Airline flight which was to depart from Terminal 3 in Toronto on Thursday July 10th at 9:05 PM. I just want to mention here that I am grateful to my friend John not just for taking me under his wing and making my trip to Macedonia easier but also for his role in convincing me to have my book translated into Macedonian, raising the necessary funds through sponsored donations for the translation and publication and for making the necessary arrangements to bring this project to fruition. I am also

grateful to Tsena for worrying over me and making sure I got to my destination safely. When it was time to go I took a cab from my parents place and arrived at Pearson International in Toronto around 6:30 PM. I met up with John and Tsena and a few of the Begaltsi from Toronto who were also headed for Macedonia and by 10:00 PM we were on the plane on our way to Skopje via Budapest. Going through security was a bit harsh especially when we were asked to take our belts and shoes off. No one laughed at my joke when I said, “I can’t take my belt off, my pants will fall off.” I guess they have heard it so many times it has lost its effect. By now it was dark and we couldn’t see the terrain as we flew for over nine hours at 600 miles per hour at a height of 35,000 feet. I was told not to expect to be fed on the plane and if I wanted food I would have to pay for it. However I was grossly misinformed. We were given food and drinks several times through the flight that included a meal of spinach noodles, chocolate wafers, pretzels, coffee, water, a grain salad, cake, juice and several times we were served juice and alcoholic beverages at no extra cost. We arrived in Budapest at 12:25 PM, Budapest time the next day. As the plane came to a halt at Budapest airport there was a general panic among passengers who had connecting flights because the plane was 50 minutes late and for us there was only 40 minutes to depart this plane, go through security again and board our connecting flight to Skopje. The crew was understanding and asked everyone to be seated while those who had connecting flights left first. We grabbed out carry on bags and out we went in a hurry navigating the labyrinth of corridors and ascending and descending stairs until we reached the security area and again had to take our belts and shoes off. No one at security seemed to care that we were in a hurry. We managed to get through with seconds to spare only to find out there was no plane at the designated gate. What happened? No one seemed to know. After many attempts at enquiries in various different languages I thought I would try my luck. I approached one of the ladies at the airline counter and asked if anyone there spoke English. The lady in the middle said she did so I asked what had happened to our plane. To my surprise she said, “I am sorry sir but we don’t have a plane destined for Skopje.” This was not only unexpected, it was a total surprise for me that Malev would not have a plane for us who had prepaid for the flight. As I returned to my group and gave them the grave news we all had a

chuckle and were not at all surprised as to how the West treats Macedonians. Everyone took the news rather lightly and settled back for a rest while waiting to see how this situation was going to unfold. By now three hours had passed and still no available plane, but again no one seemed to be overly concerned. One person said one time he was told to find an alternate method because they were not going to send a plane for just a dozen passengers so he took a taxi at his own expense. They told him they couldn’t refund his fare or pay for his taxi. For that he would have to go through “proper airline channels”. The airport was busy, bustling with people and there were shops and restaurants everywhere so we thought at least we weren’t going to starve. John was the first to make his move and went to purchase some water. He came back with a single 500 ml bottle and said it cost him two and a half Euros. Worse they would not take Canadian dollars. I only had Canadian dollars so was out of luck for purchasing any food. Four hours later our airplane arrived and we were on our way to Skopje. There were a lot of stressed out and disgruntled passengers but we were happy to finally get going. The trip to Skopje was short, only an hour and twenty minutes. It was during the day so we were able to observe the terrain as we flew over. I knew we were in Macedonia when after an hour or so of flying over flat land we began to encounter mountains. As the plane began to descend we could see clusters of villages huddled on the side of mountains that looked similar to the villages I had left behind in Greek occupied Macedonia some forty-two years ago. I often imagined what Macedonia would look like and now after so many years I was finally able to see it.

First Impressions

It was as though God had leveled middle Europe and deposited the soil to create the mountains in Macedonia! Or was it a glacier? The plane landed smoothly in Skopje airport at 6:30 PM and we were let off on the tarmac some ways away from the airport building. I picked up my carry on bag and headed for the back door when I was first struck by the light and heat of the late afternoon sun. It was a scorcher as I began to descend the staircase facing the imposing mountain in the backdrop. The sight seemed strange yet familiar. It felt like I was facing an old friend whom I had not seen for ages. My feet were finally firmly planted on the tarmac, on Macedonian soil, a dream which I had dreamt of for as long as I can remember and finally I was here. As we made our way to the building we could see a large sign which read “Alexander the Great Airport”. I had seen this sign before in news stories and articles and was now happy to see it for real. “We are in Macedonia and what better way to be greeted than by Alexander the Great,” I said to my friend John with a smile on my face. It was refreshing to get out of the sun as we entered the building, which I noticed was still under construction. “It’s going to be a great airport after the new wing is added,” John said as we lined up to go through customs. We inched our way to the front and, having gone through security in Toronto and Budapest, I wondered what kind of reception we were going to receive here in Macedonia. When we reached the front we let Tsena go first, followed by John and then it was my turn. I smiled at the lady inside the booth as she took my passport, looked at me, stamped it without asking me a single question and handed it back to me. I again smiled and said “Blagodaram” (thank you) and proceeded to the luggage pickup area. We quickly found our luggage at the carousel and proceeded to go through customs. I was expecting the customs people to go through my luggage but that didn’t happen. The customs officer waved me through and I was out among onlookers and greeters. We had heard on the news that the Mir and his wife (King and Queen) from Hunza as well as Ljube Boshkovski were arriving that same day here in Skopje but we did not know what time so we figured the crowds were there to greet them. But as we later found out the Mir and his wife, as well as Ljube Boshkovski, had already arrived and the awaiting crowds were mostly relatives of the arriving Detsa Begaltsi.

As we made our way past the airport front gates I saw a man holding up a hand written sign that read “Risto Stefov”. I went towards him and said, “I am Risto Stefov you must be my cousin Vasil?” I could see a bit of disappointment in his face as he answered, “No I am your cousin Goche and the lady next to me is your cousin Lena.” I quickly apologized and said, “Vasil is your brother, you two look alike.” I felt intense emotion as we hugged for the first time ever but I managed to compose myself before it became obvious. I introduced my cousins to John and Tsena. Also with them was Alexander, one of Lena’s grandchildren who gave them a ride to the airport. I apologized for our delay and for having them wait for nearly five hours in 38 degrees C. heat. As I was greeting my cousins just behind me stood our host, tour guide and publicist of my book Slave Nikolovski Katin who patiently waited for me to finish with my cousins and with a loud voice welcomed us to Macedonia. We loaded our luggage into Slave’s car and began our trek to Skopje to our respective apartments where we were going to spend the rest of our vacation. During the car ride Slave informed us of local events that were taking place in Skopje and gave us a rundown of our itinerary for the next few days. He also informed me that my cousin Spiro from Bitola was in Skopje and was looking forward to seeing me. As we drove, winding our way to Skopje, I could not get enough of the mountainous scenery in Macedonia. Slave took advantage of my curiosity and began to tell me things about the various places we were going by. The most memorable ones were the mountains surrounding Skopje, the haze and the village Arachinovo. I recognized that name of course because of the 2001 conflict of which I had written articles and had made mention in my books. We reached John and Tsena’s destination first and were greeted by Makedonka, John’s cousin. After that Slave took me to my residence which was kindly loaned to me by my travel agent, Dragitsa Belchevska of Win Travel. As we pulled into the parking lot in front of the building I could hear a familiar sound which I had not heard for over forty-two years. It was the sound of a bird I know as “galitsa”. It’s a crow-like black bird with dark gray wings but a bit smaller. I made a point of telling Slave about it and he concurred it was indeed a galitsa.

When we arrived at my place he gave me my keys and showed me around. He knew I had no Macedonian money so he also loaned me a couple of thousand denars for the evening. He also asked what my impression of Macedonia was and without thinking I said, “I am so happy to hear so many people all around me speak Macedonian.” Why I said that I don’t know but where I live in Canada Macedonians are spread apart and one cannot help but perk up their ears when people speak Macedonian. By now I was exhausted and ready to go to bed. I couldn’t sleep at all on the plane and had barely slept the night before. I had a shower and was watching television when I heard a knock on my door. It was my cousin Spiro. After we had our greeting he asked me if I had eaten. It was now Friday 8:00 PM and I had not eaten since Thursday noon, except for the little food they gave us on the plane. Spiro insisted we go out and took me to a restaurant nearby. He asked me what I wanted to eat to which I replied with a laugh, because I had no idea what to order, so I said, “Everything is new to me so please order what you think would be good to eat.” He insisted I also try out the “Skopsko” a local reputable beer. To my surprise the waiter brought a large cucumber and tomato salad layered with grated feta cheese and a huge plate of grilled pork, enough to feed four people. “It is all for you,” Spiro said “I have already eaten and besides I am fasting at the moment and can’t eat meat.” I looked at him in amazement and said, “There is no way that I can eat all that!” “Try it,” he said as he continued to talk to me telling me things about himself and his family. As I listened I continued to eat not realizing that I ate everything. I can’t recall ever having eaten food so fresh and delicious. I had never seen food prepared this way before. Fried slices of cheese (kashkaval) dipped in egg and bread batter. Feta prepared the same way. Cylinders of pork injected with cheese and grilled to perfection. I will never forget that meal. After eating all that food my cousin insisted I have something to drink so I decided to try Turkish coffee, Macedonian style. I said to the waiter, “I will have Turkish coffee without sugar.” The waiter looked puzzled for a moment as my cousin explained that a Turkish coffee automatically comes with four teaspoons of sugar and that I meant Macedonian coffee without sugar. Spiro stayed with me at my place that night and the next morning took me for a breakfast I will never forget.

My first day in Macedonia

It was about 9:00 PM when Spiro and I left the restaurant, went to his car to pick up some items and returned to my apartment. By now neither one of us could sleep so I decided to show Spiro my books. Fearing the wrath of customs I decided to bring only one set of books for the promotion. Spiro flipped through them and decided he wanted a copy of my dialectal dictionary for himself, which I promised I would give him after the book promo. By now I was really tired but I could not sleep. Spiro insisted I go to bed anyway while he watched television for a while. There were two vacant rooms in the apartment and another one occupied by a student. The student at the moment was away on vacation so the entire place was basically ours for the night. I noticed it was midnight and still I was not able to sleep while I heard Spiro snoring loudly in the next room. I don’t remember anything past that but I was fully awake by 4:00 AM and no matter how hard I tried I could not go back to asleep again. The place was quiet except for the birds which were up and stirring at first light. I could hear the sound of galitsi accompanied by the sound of the familiar “strachka” (magpie), which I had not heard since I had left my village Oshchima in Greek occupied Macedonia. I also heard another sound, the song of a wild pigeon. I was not sure about it though because I did not know that wild pigeons could live in a city. Slave later told me that it was a wild pigeon and that they do have wild pigeons in Skopje. While Spiro slept I used the opportunity to plan out what to do for the day. This would be the only day I would have free because the next day I was invited to spend with John and Tsena at the Slave Nikolovski family home and cottage and Monday we would be starting our long tour of Macedonia. I decided my first priority would be to go to the bank and get some of my Canadian money converted to denars. Perhaps later we could deliver some of the gifts I was given by friends to take to their relatives in Macedonia. Spiro was up by 7:00 AM and decided that our first priority should be eating breakfast. I did not feel much like eating but like my mother he insisted we go and eat anyway. I was his guest and could not refuse.

The night before, the streets were bustling with people but now everything was quiet. Spiro remarked that people usually stay up late at night because it’s too hot to sleep. The vast majority have no “klima” (air conditioning) so they sleep in the morning when it is cooler. The small bakery opened at 8:00 AM and the shelves were full of fresh hot pastries, kinds I had never seen before. Spiro said, “Today we will have ‘Burek’, cheese or meat which would you prefer?” I hesitated so he asked the baker to cut a quarter of each and put it on plates so we could eat it there. It was enough food to feed four people. We sat down at a table in front of the bakery and Spiro again went in and came out with a bottle of “jugurt”; what I would describe as a cross between yogurt and buttermilk. “You know I can’t eat this stuff because I am still fasting,” Spiro said “so dig in and eat.” “Would you like a knife and fork?” he asked. I said I preferred eating pastry with my fingers as I began to devour the stuff. Full as I was and ashamed of making a pig of myself I could not stop eating until both pieces of burek were eaten. Spiro was serious when he asked me if I wanted more but I said there is always tomorrow and it would be a good idea if I didn’t eat any more. Spiro agreed and did not press the issue anymore. The burek as I found out was freshly made and baked minutes before I ate it by the very same baker who served us. It only cost 45 denars a piece, equivalent to $ 1.10 Canadian. It was the most delicious pastry I had ever tasted and I would later make visits again and again to this bakery at every opportunity. I enjoyed the jugurt too, it reminded me of the kind of “bientsa” (buttermilk) my mother used to make a long time ago back in the village Oshchima. Having finished my breakfast, it was now time to head for the bank. It was Saturday so we expected most banks would be closed but that was not the case in Skopje. Most banks are open on Saturdays. The first bank we went to was a local bank in “Aerodrom” on the opposite side of “Vero” in ulitsa “Jane Sandanski” but that bank unfortunately was closed. We went to another bank nearby but they told us that they did not cash traveler’s cheques and we should go to the central bank in the city center. We drove around the scenic route as Spiro showed me the sites including the Macedonian Parliament Building where he served four years as a VMRO member of parliament. The security guard at the Parliament Building knew Spiro and allowed him to park there as we continued to tour the center of Skopje on foot.

Having gone past several shops and cafes we finally reached the bank where again we were told they could only cash a couple of cheques and we should go to the central bank on the other side of the Vardar River. Here we crossed the stone bridge about which I had written in my history books where Karposh was impaled by Tatar darts in December 1689 and thrown into the Vardar. The bridge had been restored several times since the 1600’s but has still maintained its original style. There is a lot of history there. By now it was eleven o’clock and Skopje was baking under the hot sun as we entered the non-air-conditioned bank, perspiring profusely. The bank was empty and we were first in line as we approached one of the tellers. Not being confident that I would be understood properly, because my poor Macedonian, I asked Spiro to explain what I wanted done. After a bit of hesitation on the bank clerk’s part she finally asked me to show her my traveler’s cheques. She told me she would have to verify them and took them away to another office out of sight. I asked Spiro what’s going on but he shrugged his shoulders in confusion. A few minutes later the lady came back and asked me where I got the travelers cheques. I said I purchased them at my bank in Canada. “So you are Canadian?” she asked. No I said, “I am Macedonian but live in Canada and I am here on vacation.” I had to explain that my inability to speak Macedonian was due to the fact that I came from Greece and that I was not educated in Macedonia. I realize this was unnecessary information but what else could we do but answer her silly little questions as both Spiro and I were drenched in sweat. The next question she asked was, “How do I know you didn’t steal these cheques?” At this point I gave her my passport and said there was no way I could prove that except that my signature in the passport matched that on the cheques. By now Spiro was so frustrated he left and took a seat in the center of the lobby. The teller now consulted with another teller and began to take the information from my passport. “You realize,” she said “we had to ask you these questions because there is so much fraud committed nowadays.” I agreed but felt I was unnecessarily treated like a criminal and wondered what foreigner would again set foot in this country if he or she were treated this way? How could Macedonia expect more tourism if it continued to treat its tourists like criminals. Yes, it’s true much fraud is committed this way but must we treat everyone like a criminal? I did not need to know or hear the clerk’s private thoughts or the bank’s internal policies on how to

conduct its business while I had my cheques cashed. Believe me, the next time I am converting my money elsewhere, I would never again go through that humiliating experience. But it was not over yet! I had not had much sleep over two nights, was hot and a nervous wreck when she asked me to countersign the cheques. I did my best but the counter I used was flat polished granite and the pen was thin and slippery, so naturally I could not make my signature to perfection. I gave her the first three cheques and she said, “Clearly that’s not you, your signature does not match.” At this point I took offense and said, “Look at the signature and photo on my passport and the original signature on the cheques. It is clearly me except I am having difficulty with the pen and counter.” She gave me a pad and another pen with which I signed another cheque. This time the signature was a match and she agreed to cash only those cheques that perfectly matched my signature. I did my best and had the rest of the cheques properly signed for which she charged me a rate of 37.8 denars per Canadian dollar and charged me a fee of about 2% for the conversion. “Now that we have established it’s me,” I asked “can you cash the first three cheques?” She said she would have to consult the manager. A few minutes later an older woman came. My situation was explained in every detail to her but after looking at the cheques for a while she said, “This is impossible, how could you have done this?” “We will have to get all your information and you will have to refund us if the cheques are rejected.” I agreed but someone said I lived in Canada to which she again said, “Impossible.” At this point I said, “Give me back my three cheques and don’t worry about it!” I tipped the clerk $5 Canadian just to show her there were no hard feelings and we left. I later told my story to a Macedonian businessman from Los Angeles who is an investor in Macedonia. He said, “They should have been kissing your hand for bringing them business instead of treating you the way they did.” It’s ironic isn’t it? The experience did not bother me in the least but it frustrated me because like many of us here in the Diaspora I too am concerned about Macedonia and want to help the Macedonian economy in any way I can. I decided to write about it not to negatively criticize the bank but to bring awareness that things need to change in Macedonia before foreigners are invited to spend their money there. Don’t expect people to be sympathetic if you treat them this way.

I don’t know what Spiro thought of the experience, I never asked but I did apologize to him for dragging him into my mess. We returned to Skopje center again via the bridge and headed for the nearest bookstore.

First exchange of opinions

As we were crossing the Skopje Bridge I told Spiro I needed a good Macedonian English dictionary and asked if he knew of any bookstores nearby. As we crossed the bridge Spiro pointed to some more important landmarks such as MANU and the sprawling café’s near the banks of the Vardar River. We found a small bookstore opposite Fufo’s café where I found what I was looking for. My ability to translate Macedonian to English rests mostly on the quality of my dictionary. I needed a good dictionary and found one. It cost 3,150 denars ($80 Canadian) but it was worth it. There were various dictionaries sold but the one I bought is by Zoze Murgovski and is called “Macedonian English Dictionary” the unabridged edition. Noticing how I spoke Macedonian the bookstore attendant wanted to know where I was from. I told her I was from Aegean Macedonia and she immediately told me her family was also from Aegean Macedonia, from Kostur region, from a village called Tiolishta. I said I have an uncle from Tiolishta and when I mentioned his last name she looked at me in disbelief. She said she was a relative of my uncle’s brother and as it turned out her sister was currently visiting him in Tiolishta. Small world! Spiro bought some books for himself too, as he remarked that books were really expensive in Macedonia and not too many people could afford them. It was past noon when we made it to our next destination to deliver a package I had been carrying from Canada for an Oshchimian family; relatives of my friend Lou. The place was difficult to find but after several phone calls Spiro got me there where we met Atanas and his mother. Atanas immediately recognized Spiro and made a point of letting him know that he knew him and that he had been at his rallies. Atanas however did not know that Spiro was from Zhelevo, a stones throw away from Oshchima and that he was related to me. Lou had warned me to watch out for “controversial” Atanas but I had no idea how passionate he felt about Macedonia and how strongly he supported the Macedonian cause. We had a lively three way conversation as Spiro too opened up and gave us his views from the inside. My views were naturally from the outside and a bit academic according to Atanas.

What transpired during that conversation could fill books but one thing that left a lasting impression on me was one of Atanas’s experiences with a foreign diplomat. Atanas speaks English very well and for a while drove a taxi. As it happened, because of his ability to speak English, Atanas was given a job to chauffeur this foreign diplomat whose name he did not divulge. For a foreigner Skopje was a difficult place to navigate and this diplomat became dependent on Atanas for everything. As Atanas put it, one night he took him out to the bar scene, got him topped up with Skopsko and got him talking. To make a long story short, this guy was in Macedonia to write a report about Macedonia and Macedonia’s future plans. And, as Atanas put it, this guy told him that Macedonians had no plans. Unlike the Albanians who have a plan to create a “Greater Albania” the Macedonians had no plans and just existed carrying on with their day to day lives. Naturally Atanas was stunned by the remark and to think that he aided this guy and did everything he wanted. After patiently listening to Atanas, I had no words of my own to describe my emotions at the kind of crap foreigners come up with. Albanians, whose country was created and given to them no more that one hundred years ago, have a plan but Macedonians who have been struggling since Roman times and have amassed more than thirty major insurrections including the 1093 Ilinden Uprising have no plans! What crap! If I, who live in Canada, can find out so many things about Macedonia in no time at all so can a foreigner who is paid to do his job. But clearly this guy’s job wasn’t to seek the truth but to fabricate lies about the Macedonian people. For what purpose and for whom this guy worked is unknown. Men who seek their fortune in propagating lies at the expense of poor, law abiding and decent people are small men indeed. Just for the record here is how I see the Macedonian peoples’ plan, which by the way is instinctive and in their nature, a plan which has not been written in any books for foreigners to understand. I have studied our history and am witness to a restless people who know who they are and know what they want; who over the years have risen to fight for their rights and for self determination. For those who have doubts, here is a list of the uprisings Macedonians have fought over the centuries:

(Roman Era), First Macedonian-Roman War, Second Macedonian-Roman War, Third Macedonian-Roman War. (Middle Ages), the Establishment of Samoil’s Macedonian State. (Uprisings Against the Byzantines), Petar Deljan, Nikolitsa of Larisa, Giorgi Vojteh, Dobromir Hrs, Dobromir Strez, Dragonitsa, Pelagonia (Uprisings against the Ottomans), Sanjuk of Ohrid, Nahi of Debar, Mariovo-Prilep, Gjavoto, Mariovo, Musa Chelebi, Skendrbeg, Karposh, Negush, Stojan Vezenkov, Razlovtsi, Kumanovo-Kriva Palanka, Pijanets, Kreshna, and the greatest uprisings of them all “Ilinden” at Melnik, Gorna Dzhumaja, District of Bitola, Smilevo, Krushevo, Kichevo, Karbunitsa, Dushegubitsa, Gjavato, Demir Hisar, Prilep, Ohrid, Resen, Kostur, Klisura, Lerin, Neveska, Skopje, Strumitsa, Solun and Seres. (Young Turk uprising) Tikvesh, Ohrid-Debar. And this is only before Macedonia’s partition. So show me a people who have struggled for so long and who have fought so many fights and tell me they had no plan! Just for the record, every Macedonian I know eats, drinks, sleeps and dreams of a united, free and independent Macedonia and if that’s not a plan I don’t know what is! Macedonians have always fought against foreign occupation and as I have indicated above rose to the task of liberating themselves many times. Unlike our neighbours whose countries were liberated and handed to them by the Great Powers, the Macedonians had to struggle by themselves for themselves and what glorious struggles they were. No one came to their rescue when they rose as a single nation and revolted against the mighty Ottoman Empire, as one author put it, in one of the greatest revolutions Europe had witnessed. Much as they wanted to liberate themselves and recover their own country, greater forces were hard at work fighting against them. Now one hundred years later they have again risen as a single people from a single nation, created their own state and look forward to again recovering all of their Macedonia. Mr. foreign diplomat, for three thousand years we are a Macedonian people, one nation fighting to recover one Macedonia which is rightfully ours. Against all odds, we came together as a people of a single nation when we rose against the Ottomans in 1903 with the purpose of liberating ourselves and recovering our state but unfortunately we failed. It was “you” Mr. foreign diplomat, the outsiders who at our weakest moment ambushed us and divided us with

the purpose of permanently eradicating us. But let me tell you we are back on our feet now, risen from the ashes like the fabled phoenix and are ready to recover what is rightfully ours. We have recovered one part of our Macedonia and in time we aim to recover it all. And that Mr. foreign diplomat is our plan for our future! Like every conversation between passionate Macedonians this conversation too had to come to a close for the sake of time. Spiro was overdue in returning to Bitola and anxious to get going. Next stop lunch. This time Spiro took me to an indoor/outdoor restaurant which I would visit again and again throughout my stay in Skopje. By now it was no surprise how much food we were about to receive and I had no doubt about my ability to eat it all. Also by now Spiro had resigned to the fact that I could not order for myself but I wanted to experience different food so he ordered a platter of mixed meats with vegetables, French fries, a Macedonian salad and a large skopsko for me. He ordered a plate of vegetables and French fries (kompiri) for himself as he was still fasting. All of the meat was cooked with cheese, including the huge hamburger. One piece of meat was woven like a woman’s braided hair and injected with cheese. I tried the vegetables first just to see what they would taste like in comparison to those we eat in Canada. The corn, peas and even the mushrooms were delicious so instead of pushing them to the side of my plate as I usually do, I ate them down to the last one. The meat too was delicious and so was the tomato-cucumber salad sprinkled with heaps of grated feta cheese. By the time I was done I was completely stuffed. Amazingly I felt no over eating discomfort as I usually do back home. I said my goodbyes to Spiro and was back in my apartment when I received a phone call from my cousin Lena wanting to know when I could visit. I said I was available now and she came with her daughter-in-law Diana to pick me up. My visit lasted until 11 PM. I had a good visit and we were able to discuss many things. I also got to talk to the rest of my cousins in Skopje on the phone. Lena was a bit more understanding about pushing the food and let me off with just coffee and water. The tap water in Skopje by the way comes from a spring and is excellent for drinking but most people in Skopje drink bottled water. The best carbonated bottled water, I was told, comes from Bitola. The

Skopje tap water has too much calcium and people avoid drinking it as much as possible, so I was told. It was hot that night as Diana and Lena dropped me off at my apartment. It was well past 2:00 AM when the noise outside subsided and people went to bed. For the life of me I could not sleep at all that night.

Visiting with Slave

As usual I was up at 4am Sunday morning and surprisingly not very tired. The most I could have slept that night would have been a couple of hours. I spent most of my morning trying to get organized and figure out how and when I was going to visit the twenty or so friends who had asked me to see them. Besides my relatives, the army officers I knew from Toronto and a couple of academics; most were internet acquaintances whom I had never met before. By 8am I received my customary wake up call from Slave who asked me if he woke me up. I had to laugh. I was ready to go but that was not going to happen for another couple of hours during which time I watched some television. I was surprised at the number of channels they got in Skopje. Unfortunately only three or four were in Macedonian; the rest were mostly in English, French, German, Serbian, Bulgarian, Croatian, Albanian and other languages I could not recognize. Early in the morning there were cartoons on nearly half the channels. I watched one of Tom and Jerry and one of Bugs Bunny, my old favourites. By 10am Slave had arrived, picked me up, then John and Tsena and we were on our way to their home in the center of Skopje. Again we took the scenic route and Slave wasted no opportunity in showing us the sights. John and Tsena had been to Skopje several times before so Slave was actually showing me the sights. That included the museum which had been a railway station before it was destroyed by the earthquake, the new Sveti Kliment church, government buildings, etc. We even went through a thriving open market in the middle of Skopje where one could buy fresh fruits, vegetables of all sorts and an assortment of items from fresh baked bread to all kinds of sweets and even clothing for a small cost. Who says Macedonia does not have a thriving economy? Slave was quick to point out that Macedonians are resourceful and hard working and that as long as there are people who are willing to work with the earth no one is going to go hungry. And because of the hot weather and lack of refrigeration, the food was picked fresh in the morning and sold the same day. I later continued to inquire at every place we went if their food had been purchased fresh locally and prepared the same day. From what I was told, almost all of the food grown in Macedonia is organic. Because of the high cost of fertilizers and pesticides, which most small farmers can’t afford, food is

still grown in the traditional way. I hope Macedonians continue to grow their food this way because I am sure they will not enjoy eating food grown in mineral depleted soil, saturated with pesticides. Another thing I noticed in Skopje was that there were no homeless people (other than those protesting in Skopje center). With such high unemployment and such low wages how could there be no homeless people? I wonder how many of those unemployed will become homeless if Macedonia enters the European Union or how many will go hungry when the multinationals put the small farmers out of business? I also wonder what Macedonians will think when their food, especially meat loaded with preservatives, is delivered to them in refrigerators from France or Germany and is sold to them at a high price in huge grocery stores. By the way, of all the people I spoke to, no one was eager to see Macedonia join the European Union nor under the illusion that things were going to improve after they joined it. As one person put it, “We are doing fine here the way we are; we are seeing gradual improvement by the day. We have what we need and the only thing we don’t have is extra money to shop for extravagant things and to go out more often.” Slave and his wife Nada live in the same building where they work so we got to visit both their home and office. Nada is one of those rare people who loves to cook and do extravagant things for her guests as she slaved away in the heat preparing very delicious pastries and treats for us. Besides Nada, we also met their son and granddaughter. I was thoroughly impressed with their son’s knowledge of Macedonian issues and listened to him as he meticulously explained things from his perspective. He believes that if Macedonia joins the EU most of the criminal element in Macedonia will move on to greener pastures and Macedonia may experience some peace. Slave and Nada’s granddaughter was a jewel. At her preschool age she spoke like a little philosopher, a similar kind of talk I had heard from John and Tsena’s grandson Christopher. We were fortunate to have the little girl’s company throughout the day as her father had to leave right after breakfast. Slave later took us to his office and gave us the grand tour. Both he and his wife are authors and have been in the publishing business for a while and have amassed a fair number of books. Slave gave me more books than I could carry. These were not just his books but those of

many authors whom he had published. I was more than happy to receive them and will use them as sources in future projects. After that we were headed to Slave and Nada’s cottage up on the mountain hillside facing Skopje. On the way we did some more sightseeing and purchased a big watermelon. As we climbed the mountain we took a detour to visit a very old monastery, I believe it was 11th century. There outside I saw a swallow’s nest made of dried mud, the kind of nests we used to have in our homes back in Oshchima. The monastery was very old with frescoes painted on the walls and bars to hold on to when standing for liturgy. There were no seats. In fact all the churches and monasteries I subsequently visited had no seats or pews, as they are called, not even in the main and modern Church in Skopje. Outside the monastery at the roadside we found wild plum trees loaded with ripe plums ready for picking. Wild plums are very common in Macedonia and we would see them again and again on the roadside all throughout Macedonia. At my mention, Slave reached out and picked a few for us in the manner we used to pick them back in Oshchima. Even though they are ripe these wild delights pack a sour punch that would send shivers down your spine but for me it was a novelty as I had not tasted any for a long time. Slave drove up and down dirt roads no wider than his car with cliffs hanging at the side that would frighten the bravest, but we trusted Slave to get us there safely. When we arrived it was a sight to see as we could see half of Skopje and its beautiful surrounding mountainside. Although it was a scorcher outside it was cool inside the cottage so we decided to stay indoors for a while until we cooled off. There was not much running water in the surrounding area so each cottage had its own supply of well water. I was curious to see what it tasted like so Nada poured me a big glass. It was as good as the Skopje spring water but much cooler. Here as we relaxed in the calm and relatively cool cottage Slave and I had a few drinks of his favorite “yellow” whisky or simply “yellow” as we subsequently called it. Nada objected to Slave’s drinking because of his health but I enjoyed his company as well as his homemade drink which a friend of his had given him. The drinks and relaxation had made me feel drowsy but not enough to put me to sleep as I confessed I hadn’t much sleep the night before. Everyone insisted that I sleep some but I was not able to.

The day ended with a big dinner which Nada again slaved to cook for us; but as she said cooking was one thing she truly enjoyed doing. Thank you Nada. By now the watermelon was cool as it sat under a dripping tap of cool well water. When it was cut it was a dark red colour which I had not seen in a long time. Nada remarked that it was not one of the best watermelons she had seen but for me it was and had a delicious sweet taste which we don’t get from our imported “ripen as they travel watermelons” here in Canada. Slave drove downhill unusually fast in the dark that night as we headed back for the city and for some rest before our long trip the next day.

On the road to Stobi