on entering Pristina, they even have their own Statue of Liberty, on a roof
I wasn’t prepared for this. Sure, driving in the Balkans is a bit of a challenge, but in Serbia people more or less respected the traffic rules, although the further south we went, the more aggressive some drivers took to the road. Or – another observation -, after lunch the traffic discipline faded somewhat, possibly as a result of the occasional liquid, alcoholic accompaniment with the lunch.
outside Pristina, a rare four-lane road with only one lane blocked, by potato transport
market stall along the road in the countryside
But driving in Kosovo is different. Arriving in Prishtina on a Friday afternoon, traffic is complete chaos. Cars inch their way onto totally blocked round-abouts, and more often than not they are at 90o angles with other cars, negotiating their way to the centre, or just to the outside of the round-about. What doesn’t help is the rule that, if you have an accident, even if only material damage to the car, moving your car before the police is on site is, apparently, a criminal offence. Which means that entire traffic arteries were blocked, because – not surprising, in this environment – a minor accident had occurred. Which brings stranded drivers to U-turn via a pedestrian crossing, or – before the police has arrived – advance via the pavement. In the meantime my travel companion, oblivious of the traffic, is happily chatting away about all the new impressions.
Finding our way to our hotel doesn’t improve things. Where we miss a turn, we have to backtrack through the narrow streets behind the main thoroughfares, and here people park at random, with the decency of leaving just enough space to pass, but not taking into account the fact that cars may be coming from both sides. I am glad I have a relatively small car.
construction is everywhere ongoing, here in the Pristina suburbs
The Border
We crossed the border a bit more than an hour ago. Well, you cross the border into Kosovo, where you show your passport and car papers, but you do not leave Serbia. In Serbian eyes Kosovo is part of Serbia, its independence has never been recognised. Which is also stated in so many words at the ‘border’: the fact that you are being stopped is in no way a recognition of the independence of what Serbia still sees as the autonomous Kosovo province of Serbia. Perhaps. But we are really crossing a border, and that is immediately clear. From the relatively organised Serbia – everything is relative – we enter the chaos, the roads with potholes, the randomly organised villages and urban areas, the unfinished construction, the rubbish everywhere; the contrast is striking.
At each and every town, as small as they come, the outskirts are dominated by building companies and associated businesses. The towns themselves are not particularly appealing, lots of new houses – which could well be a consequence of the war 25 years ago, of course, but any town planning came too late. The countryside is equally unattractive, after the last hills at the Serbian border we are back in flat, yellow landscape, interrupted by random construction. The roads, in town or outside, are mostly clogged, not helped by lots of road works, or places where the intention is to carry out roadworks in the future.
What can I say? I wasn’t prepared for such a contrast. And neither for the Prishtina traffic.
next: Prishtina
climate consideration are not yet taking the front seat in Kosovo
but the good news is, there is electricity!
