Berlin Schönefeld had
just recently opened one of the newest Wizz Air routes, connecting the German
capital with the capital of the Republic of Macedonia – Skopje. We departed the
few remaining friends, gathered for a short weekend of renowned Berlin
nightlife, to depart on our own trip to the states that once made up the
central and eastern republics of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.
A short two-hour trip,
on our budget yet comfy flight, saw me return to the city on the Vardar for my
fourth time. For John, stepping out of arrivals at Alexander the Great Airport
was his first visit to any territory once under the rule of Josip Broz Tito. I
can only imagine that my feelings of familiarity were equally matched by John’s
feelings of intrigue and wonder for the twenty days ahead.
Yet, as we met the
hostess and her father for our Airbnb apartment, we soon changed tack as to
whether we would arrive in the city centre at all. A well intended instruction
of not needing to use our seat belts as we got into the car, feeling obliged to
indulge in local practice, soon turned into stomach tightening regret. We
awkwardly gripped on to the handrail as we zigzagged between lanes of the
motorway whilst hurtling towards the city centre at 100km per hour.
Thankfully, reduced
speed limit signs as we entered the city limits seemed to have an effect,
slowing down the driving and making it seem less erratic. As we approached the
city from the east, the Millennium Cross began to emerge, and turn towards us
as we arched around the mountain upon which it was perched. The orange glow of
the city soon came into competition with it, distracting us from our friendly
chat with our hostess. We covered the usual – what we did for work (us,
politics and charity; her, actuary), what brought us here (visiting the region,
I mentioned my multiple visits that took us on a tangent), how she learned such
good English (TV and school), and where was good to visit. The latter was more
to confirm that the research I undertook could be confirmed as fair to explore
by a local. A winery, Matkasee, the Millennium Cross, and the Kale Fortress
were all met with our hostess’s approval, including directions on how best to
get to them.
Once the Kale Fortress
appeared to our right, a hundred or so meters above us lit up like a 1920’s
cabaret stage, I knew exactly where we were and began to calculate the route
that our hosts would take us to the apartment. Although approaching almost
midnight, evidence of the summer’s demonstrations against the VMRO-DPMNE
Government could be seen. The ‘Colourful Revolution’ saw protesters attack the
newly constructed facades of state and other prominent buildings and monuments
with a palette of paint worthy of Kandinsky. While I was explaining these
events to John, our hostess proudly informed us that her building was one of
the few in the centre not to have its façade so appallingly done up to the
‘Neo-Classical’ style now de rigueur
thanks to ‘Skopje 2014’. No doubt my ‘tour guide’ act was already becoming
tiresome to John. It was past midnight. John must have been thinking “Only 19
days to go!”
We pulled into a
triangular courtyard off one of the side streets that leads to Macedonia
Square. We collected our stuff, headed out on to the main Macedonia Street, and
were met with rows of waited tables bursting in to the street from the abundance
of cafes, all pumping out pop music. The cooking of corn on a makeshift barbecue along with the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the still of the night,
both lent themselves to my first noticing the enveloping heat that the evening
still possessed. Romance was lost however, when a lone pensioner began wailing
on a nearby bench. Over the course of our stay, we would hear her a couple of
times, even at this hour, howling without interruption from residents or
passersby.
We made our way up to
the 6th and top floor of the apartment block, the entrance to which
was opposite the wailing lady, and entered through the door to the left. Our
studio apartment was ideal for the two of us, but the balcony that overlooked
Macedonia Square was its USP. Once our hostess made arrangements for our
morning visit to the police station to record our visit, we unpacked essentials
for the morning, turned on the air con, and called it a night.
