The hassle-free journey continues. That is, until I get to Skopje. I see a lot of Skopje, an hour more than I intend to. A taxi driver can clearly see that I am struggling. He approaches and speaks perfect English. Within minutes I am following him on my ‘to hard to describe’ route. Skyrise apartments tower over us, him being in a battered Lada and me on Suzi. We eventually arrive at my destination, Hostel Hostel.
So good they named in twice!
Hostel World has awarded Hostel Hostel as being the second best hostel in Eastern Europe. It is a quirky little place, a throwback to days gone by. But it is hard to depict which century let alone which decade they are aiming for. With bright and bold colours on the walls and curtains, furniture that would have been at home on a Pride and Prejudice film set, make this a true gem. The garden is the masterpiece, though, with gazebos dressed in cloth and trees sprouting up in the middle of pathways. The focal point of this calm and tranquil garden is an old-style bike spray-painted gold. It is hooked up to the mains… I am reassured that is for the bike's head lamp, I don’t push my luck and give it a wide berth.
Once decamped, I join Pero, the owner, Matt, an American and Richard, a 70-year-old Texan. It isn’t long before we are discussing every subject possible and the air turns pungent with the smell of weed. I am the only one not partaking (I am not just saying that cause my mother will read this!). More people join us, all smokers. Two of note are Richard and Tim. They are both German and both studying politics in Germany. They are very interested in the German elections the following day and are keen to get an invite to the German Embassy to watch the results come in.
Tonight is Light Night in Macedonia; a Bank Holiday of sorts. All I know is that it makes for a big party. The German lads are so intent on getting that invite that they talk of going to the German opening of Light Night. As soon as alcohol and pyrotechnics are mentioned, my ears prick up and Matt and I are on board.
Something got lost in translation. I am stood in a white, brightly-lit room watching a girl act out silently a story through the form of expressive arts. The big finale is that she bites through a bag and then proceeds to drink the contents off the floor. The narration was in German and the paper I am holding is in the Cyrillic alphabet. I have no clue what is going on. The only thing I can think is that the clear liquid is vodka and she wants to have a cheap night out. It turns out to be a very bizarre but memorable way of starting a great night, which turns out to be a little less memorable but this can be attributed to Jack and his friend, Coke.
On Monday night I get invited over to chat with the 'Duty Manager', although there is no name badge in sight. She is sat with three of her friends in what would be a haze of pungent smoke, if it were not for the incense. I find out that in the south of Macedonia they grow really good gear, as well as vineyard grapes, her female friend adds trying to have an air of sophistication about her.
This girl can't half talk! I mention the reason for my trip, not the fact I am doing it so I can get out of work, but cause I want to find out about the recent history. Instantly it makes the duty manager feel tense and uncomfortable. After five minutes of listening to Chopsy talk about events leading up to and including the split of Yugoslavia, I try to change the subject as the Duty Manager is becoming noticeably agitated.
One thing I do find out is that in the new year Macedonians will be able to leave the country for up to three months without having to get a specific visa. One of the lads thinks that 5,000 Macedonians will leave on the first day!
The evening turns into night and I manage to apologise to the DM for my initial interest in what Mia was saying. She smiles and waves it off, it just leaves me wondering about her, or her family's experiences, that has left such a deep, visible scar. The night becomes a lot more relaxed and a lot of fun. I am taught a Macedonian version of bridge. I take to it like a duck to water.
I retire victorious but my thoughts linger over certain conversations and their hidden depths. My last thoughts though, are about tomorrow's journey.
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