Prizren: Walking with our host's landlord, Cesar. A small man in his fifties, smartly dressed in polo shirt and pressed blue jeans. He is a schoolteacher in the town, teaching the large Turk population, and has lived there all his life.
We walk along the busy streets where Yugos and Zastavas and scooters compete with pedestrians for road space. Cesar says hello to almost everyone and stops to talk to all of the men of his vintage. There are handshakes and smiles and an introduction to his English guests.
He shows us the points of interest. The stone bridge over the river, the tree many hundreds of years old, the castle sitting above the town.
He points out the Serbian church in the hills. It was set alight in two days of rioting across Kosovo in March 2004. At this time all the Serbs were driven from the town and their houses, sitting near to the church, set on fire. They remain abandoned.
We wander through the town square dominated by a large mosque. In the square is a large monument to a tough looking Albanian with rifle in his hand.
'From the war,' says Cesar, and we move on.
We take a seat in a riverside cafe where we drink macchiatos. Cesar pulls out his packet of Ronhills, a tobacco brand from Croatia, and smokes three with his coffee. Briggs manfully keeps up, smoking his Marlboro Lights.
We move into the shopping district. There is a local police officer putting cars on a diversion. Turning a corner we see that a road has been sealed off, and there are KFOR international army officers on the scene.
Cesar stops to talk to a man who says it is a bomb scare. Or it would be a scare, if anyone was scared. Instead, the area sealed off his ludicrously small, and children on BMXs are just yards from the scene of investigation.
Cesar lights up a Ronhill and we take a different route back home.
We walk along the busy streets where Yugos and Zastavas and scooters compete with pedestrians for road space. Cesar says hello to almost everyone and stops to talk to all of the men of his vintage. There are handshakes and smiles and an introduction to his English guests.
He shows us the points of interest. The stone bridge over the river, the tree many hundreds of years old, the castle sitting above the town.
He points out the Serbian church in the hills. It was set alight in two days of rioting across Kosovo in March 2004. At this time all the Serbs were driven from the town and their houses, sitting near to the church, set on fire. They remain abandoned.
We wander through the town square dominated by a large mosque. In the square is a large monument to a tough looking Albanian with rifle in his hand.
'From the war,' says Cesar, and we move on.
We take a seat in a riverside cafe where we drink macchiatos. Cesar pulls out his packet of Ronhills, a tobacco brand from Croatia, and smokes three with his coffee. Briggs manfully keeps up, smoking his Marlboro Lights.
We move into the shopping district. There is a local police officer putting cars on a diversion. Turning a corner we see that a road has been sealed off, and there are KFOR international army officers on the scene.
Cesar stops to talk to a man who says it is a bomb scare. Or it would be a scare, if anyone was scared. Instead, the area sealed off his ludicrously small, and children on BMXs are just yards from the scene of investigation.
Cesar lights up a Ronhill and we take a different route back home.
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