It's about time that I got around to telling you something about Kosovo. For anyone unfamiliar, (which one was that one again?) Kosovo is a former (well, that's debatable, but I'm not going there right now) province of Serbia which was placed under UN/NATO administration in 1999 following a guerrilla war of independence which escalated into full-blown ethnic conflict. From a legal, historical and political point of view, Kosovo's was a unique conflict because it ended due to NATO military intervention - largely led by the US and Britain - justified on the basis of stopping large-scale atrocities which were being allegedly committed against civilians, specifically ethnic cleansing. If this sounds familiar to anyone, this is the same justification which is currently being used for NATO intervention in Libya. All sides committed atrocities but the bad guys in 1999 were the Serbian forces. Since then, local Kosovan Albanians have been accused of committing ethnically-based violence against Kosovan Serbs in retaliation, the worst of which happened in 2004 when serious rioting led to the displacement and expulsion of much of the remaining Serb population. Kosovo declared itself to be an independent state in 2008 but it has not been fully recognised and it's status remains unresolved. It's not a dangerous place and the conflict is over, but tensions between the communities remain high.
I'm here working in The Organisation's headquarters in Pristina, the capital. And let me tell you, there are a hell of a lot of Organisations in Pristina these days, so you can have fun trying to work out which one I'm not naming. Kosovo remains under international administration, and although it does have its own government and authorities, it also has a hell of a lot of NATO troops, UN agencies, EU personnel and a whole host of others.
Pristina's a strange place, very different to Sarajevo, though it's about the same size. It's sort of a brand new city, to start with, which doesn't sound as odd as it feels. I'd never thought before about how our conceptions of cities are anchored around their historic development; our individual consciousness of urban development – particularly in Europe – is drawn immediately to the historic centers of cities from which all else usually grows outwards, both physically and mentally. Think about it; upon getting to any new place you immediately head downtown and orient yourself from the main landmarks, which are usually based around a square or imposing public buildings. You don't realise how central – literally and socially – this concept of a city is until it isn't there.
In Pristina, for instance, everything seems to have been built in the last 10 or 20 years, but not in a good way. Urban planning is non-existent. The city is unplanned and follows none of the logic you take for granted in most towns. It seems to lack a sense of centre or history, a sense of itself. I've been to plenty of places where unplanned and unpredictable growth has led to organised chaos, but even in Africa most towns and cities originally functioned as markets or were initially developed by colonisers who had some purpose in mind. But for some reason, it doesn't feel like Pristina has that kind of background. It was a small city whose population exploded in an unpredictable and impromptu mess following the 1999 war. This doesn't make it particularly modern, because most of the new development has taken the form of featureless, six-story apartment buildings. Most only seem half-finished because features like porches, balconies, outdoor lighting (even over the front door) and paving never were finished, leading to a distinct building site quality that's only enhanced by the many half-paved streets, rubble-y pavements and the litter lying around.
So it's not a scenic place. I don't think I'd particularly recommend it as a tourist destination unless you have a thing for army vehicles or a business interest in concrete. But to be fair, despite all the above, it's not really that bad. Pristina's not spectacularly ugly or uniquely bizarre by any means: all of this just makes it sort of... boring, really. Visually, at least. I haven't taken many photos, for instance, because there's nothing much interesting to take pictures of (bar the truly spectacular crater in the street outside my apartment building, below. I amuse myself by watching the cars waltz gingerly around it as I walk home in the evenings). I had heard about all of this before I got here, so perhaps it simply couldn't live up to my wildest and worst imaginings. There's also a good chance that a spell in Africa – in the developing world in general – cures you of many snobberies (once I'm in a place that has a decent internet connection and toilets with a flushing mechanism, I'm generally happy).
But the main thing that really hits you in Pristina is the immense extent to which it is internationalised. By internationalised, I don't mean globalisation (no McDonalds or Starbucks here), but rather the immediate and overwhelming sense that the one and only industry in this town is the international community. All those organisations have a hell of a lot of people just like me working for them, and as a result the service industry which supports people like us feels like the only thing driving Pristina forward.
Coming from Sarajevo especially, the choice in food is mind-bending: sushi, thai, tapas - I had a pancake brunch last week. This is unheard of in the rest of the former Yugoslavia. I don't feel like I'm in the Balkans at all. Everyone travels every weekend (Greece, Macedonia, Serbia, Montenegro, Bulgaria and Croatia are within driving distance), eats out all the time and does plenty of drinking because everything here is cheap, people make good money and there's nothing else to do. Obviously, the lifestyle is pretty sweet and I'm not saying that I won't enjoy and take full advantage. Except that to be honest, it makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable. Pristina is the living epitome of the international development/aid cliché, more than I've seen anywhere else, including Africa: well-paid white people bumping around in ubiquitous four-wheel-drives, spending money somewhat frivolously in a poor country, complaining about things like litter and potholes.
Well, enjoy my self-righteousness before I inevitably get sucked into it, I suppose. And it'll be interesting to see how much these first impressions change.
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