Skopje, Macedonia

Skopje, Macedonia

I had a welcome night in a bed, following two nights spent respectively on the floor of an airport and in a bus. I had planned to head to Skopje at the earliest opportunity so as to maximise my time there, and took in a little more of Pristina as I retraced my steps from yesterday back to the bus station, from which I left at 0830. I had to scrutinise my ticket somewhat, as both the woman in the ticket booth and the sign on the front of the bus labelled my destination ‘Shkup’, the Albanian name for the city. Given that neighbouring Albania calls itself the similar-sounding Shqipëria, I would not have been totally surprised if it had ended up heading in the wrong direction, and thus it was wise to confirm that we were indeed bound for Macedonia.

I had a pleasant journey through the southern Kosovan countryside, which consisted largely of flat open fields flanked by hazy mountains. Here and there were set up roadside enterprises selling various goods, ranging from ramshackle stalls with vegetables to fully established vendors of cars and agricultural equipment. A number of these were emblazoned with the word ‘shitje’, a word I had also seen once or twice yesterday, and it was particularly memorable. It turned out to mean ‘sale’, but I had rather hoped its meaning was similar to English, and that these various businesses were emphatically stating, ‘I shitje not, we have great fertiliser!’

The countryside in southern Kosovo, between Ferizaj and Kaçanik. The mountain is on the border with Macedonia

These places gradually dried up and we left behind the flat plain as the bus headed into a spectacular valley with virgin forests coating the mountains and a railway line far below at the bottom of the gorge. As we continued, we found ourselves deeper and deeper in a salient and at last came to the border. The procedure was swift but the Macedonians failed to indulge me by stamping my passport. Another half an hour brought the bus out of the mountains and into the heart of Macedonia’s capital Skopje, a mere two hours after leaving Pristina.

This really was another world compared with Pristina. It struck me that, for better or worse, a lot of capital had been invested into the city. Sadly, my initial impressions were that this was overwhelmingly for the worse.

To explain, Kosovo is not the only country in this region that faces an issue of identity and ethnic or historical legitimacy. Macedonia too is embroiled in a dispute, this time with its southern neighbour Greece. Being the apparent successor to one of the great civilisations of the Bronze Age, Greece effectively feels it has a monopoly on the copyright to the names and identities of all the various nation states that comprised the Hellenic world. The modern incarnation of Greece, which became independent after generations of Ottoman Turkish rule in 1830, has an identity that is heavily shaped by its cultural connections to ancient Athens, Sparta, Thessaly and so on.

Macedonia was for a long time the name of one of the constituent republics of Yugoslavia, but when it peacefully broke away from the fragmenting nation in 1991, Macedonia again became the name of an independent country. The Greeks weren’t having it. Macedonia provocatively adopted a sun-emblazoned flag that was strikingly similar to that of the ancient empire famously headed by kings Philip and Alexander. Following international arbitration, Macedonia changed their flag to one featuring an original, though similar, sun design, and the name FYROM (Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia) is to this day used in some contexts to avoid causing offence to the Greeks.

Historical Macedonia overlaps with both northern Greece and southern Macedonia so the country name is not a misnomer. Furthermore, there are ancient Greek remains to be found in Macedonia too. Other nations around the world have chosen to name themselves after great empires (Mali and Benin for example) despite having tenuous connections to those civilisations. The name of neighbouring Albania conjures up images of twentieth-century repression and backwardness under Enver Hoxha’s regime, whereas Macedonia makes one think of Alexander, the undefeated general who conquered most of the known world and was only hindered by his soldiers’ homesickness once they had reached far-flung India. The name alone certainly conjures a potent image and the impact on national prestige and international perception is surely tangible. Nevertheless, there is something to be said for the Greeks’ position that ‘FYROM’ is attempting to usurp Greek Macedonia’s position by laying claim to its history and its national heroes such as Greek speaking Greek Alexander. Furthermore, modern Macedonia is diluted with Slavs, Albanians and Turks and is linguistically and culturally distant from the ancient kingdom. I don’t particularly side with either nation on this issue; I think its Slavic and Christian history renders FYROM too detached to be ‘the real historical Macedonia’, whilst I also lament the pettiness of the Greeks in trying to dictate the national identity of the Macedonians, particularly when both nations use this debate as a distraction from their far more pressing economic and social issues.

It is on this last point that I found myself reflecting as I first entered the riverside heart of central Skopje. ‘A crass, Slavic-Hellenic Las Vegas’ was the first description that sprang to mind. Subsequently, I discovered that plenty of reporters have also likened Skopje to Las Vegas, but I had coincidentally reached the same conclusion. An earthquake in 1963 destroyed much of the historical city and the recent ‘Skopje 2014’ project has invested between 80 and 500 million euros into redesigning the city centre. What struck me most was the sheer tastelessness of the whole thing. ‘Statues are good. We like statues… let’s build 500 of them here’. I found myself on the Bridge of Civilisations in Macedonia, which leads to the Greek revival style Archæological Museum of Macedonia, and is replete with dozens of statues of notable historical figures through the ages, from armour-cladded Bronze Age soldiers and toga-wearing philosophers to Russian-esque mediæval knights. The whole effect smacks more of Cæsar’s Palace than of the Parthenon.

Археолошки Музеј на Македонија (Archæological Museum of Macedonia)

One of the Hellenic-style statues on the Bridge of Civilisations in Macedonia

A galleon moored beside the Vardar

 This is intensified by the fact that there are several ludicrously incongruous wooden galleons docked on the River Vardar. They seemed to be restaurants mostly but whatever function they serve, it is quite apparent that they are far too far inland for any vessel of such description to have had a natural presence here. It is rather as though HMS Belfast had been removed from its moorings in Southwark, deprived of any genuine historical interpretation and relocated to say, Wiltshire, to serve as an oversized tea room and children’s play area beside the cathedral in Salisbury. I don’t wish to be too disparaging to the good people of Macedonia, but really, why? These ships may in theory help to bring in some less discerning tourists, who elect to snub the nightclubs of Ibiza or the beaches of Corfu for off-the-beaten-path Skopje purely on the proviso that they can dine onboard an inauthentic warship, but why not focus on the gloriously wealthy culture that is already here without resorting to such half-baked ideas?! Skopje has a charming Turkish old town, numerous stunning churches and mosques, and a historic fortress overlooking the city for which I would have gladly paid money in exchange for the views, the walk along the ramparts and some historical interpretation. Would Alexander the Great really have deigned such tackiness fit for the capital of the country that would one day bear the name of his empire?

Well, no. For one thing, Alexander’s capital was a long way south at Pella, close to modern Thessaloniki. For another, Skopje is well outside the core of historic Macedonia. This has not stopped the architects of the Skopje 2014 project, however. The centrepiece of Macedonia Square (Плоштад Македонија/Ploshtad Makedonija) is a 14.5 metre high equestrian statue atop a ten metre column, named 'Warrior on a Horse' and widely believed to depict the aforementioned Alexander. Another 'Warrior', presumably Philip II of Macedon, stands on foot on the north bank of the river. Meanwhile, a short walk to the south east of Macedonia Square is Porta Macedonia, a glistening white arch that evokes images of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. None of these constructions have escaped reactions including ridicule and denigration. As I stood outside the Macedonian Parliament and reflected on my thoughts about these structures, ranging from plain tackiness to attempts to claim ownership of particular history, a red double decker London bus swept past me, another symbol of the Vegas-style tat that provides the face of modern Skopje.

'Warrior on a Horse' - believed to depict Alexander the Great, and referred to as such by the Macedonians I met

Porta Macedonia; the bright colours are from paint bombs fired by anti-government protestors as part of 2016's 'colourful revolution'

The Macedonian Assembly

A London bus, part of the city's attempts to raise its tourist profile

Church of St Constantine and Elena, part of the Skopje 2014 project. Next door is the site of Mother Teresa's birthplace

The impressive tower of the Church of St Constantine and Elena

Улица Македонија (Macedonia ulica)

Despite this outpouring of negativity, I shall concede that I am merely ambivalent about the redevelopment of the city centre. For all the shortcomings and historical contentiousness of the project, I would not wish for Skopje to become as dull and soulless as Montenegro’s capital Podgorica, and I accept that the project is intended to revitalise an otherwise bland part of the city. I just question whether progress for progress' sake is really progress at all.

Still in two minds, I headed north across the river by means of the iconic Stone Bridge (Kamen Most/Камен мост), an authentic modern reconstruction of a Turkish-built crossing dating back to the mid-fifteenth century. On this side of the river, my mind about Skopje changed. The historical quarter was much more authentic than the other bank. The flagstone streets of the old town were reminiscent of the Turkish quarter of Sarajevo, hardly surprising since both Bosnia and Macedonia were occupied by the Ottomans for hundreds of years. I grabbed a burek to eat for lunch and perused the shopfronts and market stalls. I noticed there were far more Muslims in this quarter than over the river, and there was a parked convoy of cars decorated with red and white ribbons signifying an Albanian wedding taking place. Vibrant Balkan music was blaring out from some courtyard tucked away behind a discreet entrance near the lead vehicle.

Камен мост (The Stone Bridge); a reconstruction of the original Ottoman structure

Плоштад Македонија (Macedonia Square) seen from the Stone Bridge; Vodno mountain is in the background

Philip II of Macedon, father and predecessor of Alexander the Great

Skopje's bustling old town

This convoy of cars was outside an Albanian wedding

Further on, I came to Mustafa Pasha’s Mosque, the Balkans’ largest mosque. Having previously been into just one mosque, in Sarajevo, and on that occasion having the luxury of advice from the man in the ticket office, I was a little unclear about how to proceed. Was it sufficient to simply remove my shoes, or did I need to go through any other rituals? Happily, there was an entourage also visiting, consisting of several Americans and their guide. Since he was local, and presumably a Muslim too, I asked him to help and he clarified that the former would be adequate. Once inside, I found myself asking him further questions about the layout of the mosque and the symbolism of the various structures contained within. My curiosity had not been satisfied on my previous mosque experience, as the usual guides in Sarajevo were not conducting tours of Muslim places of worship during the holy month of Ramadan. Alas, it emerged that this man, Martin, was not himself a Muslim and appeared to know scarcely more than I did.

After a few minutes admiring the mosque’s interior, I thanked him for his time, put my shoes back on, and started to head off. As I went, Martin stopped me and asked if I wished to join his entourage. Why not? Some local insight would be helpful, and even if it were only a couple of hours, I would still have plenty of time to do the rounds of the city’s sights. I set off, now in the company of five Americans and a local, towards a restaurant for lunch. Over a spread of various plates of bread, meats, salads and potatoes, we discussed Macedonia, Europe, the refugee crisis, the rise of populism on both sides of the Pond, and the impending election of Donald Trump in the US. The Americans were part of a Christian mission group from Colorado, spending time with refugees in Greece and victims of the flooding in Macedonia in August, and were being guided by Martin around Skopje at the conclusion of their trip. Our interpretations of the Bible differed somewhat, but happily we glossed over this and concentrated on our respective social attitudes; in particular, they wanted to hear about Brexit and a Briton’s outlook regarding Europe, as well as what I was doing in this corner of the continent. I was likewise intrigued as to their purpose, and what they thought of Macedonia. They had spent a week in the country, and another in Greece, but for several of them, it was their first time in Europe. They were all thrilled to be here, and remarked upon how drastically different the way of life in Macedonia was compared to theirs in the States.

Mustafa Pasha's Mosque

The mosque's interior

The beautifully decorated porch at the entrance to the mosque

At the conclusion of this merry gathering, they generously refused to take my money to cover my share of the contribution. Their plans were to head out to the south of the city, where a mountain called Vodno rises over Skopje, and take the cable car to the summit. I wouldn’t have thought to go on my own, but decided to accompany them further. Beforehand, they were keen to buy some souvenirs in the market before their return across the Atlantic the next day, so I had a little time for one more bit of exploring first.

On the north bank of the Vardar, and just to the west of the old town, a small hill overlooks the city. On top is the Skopje Fortress (Скопско Кале/Skopsko Kale). Its history is bookended by the two most significant earthquakes to have hit the city. The first, in AD 518, destroyed the old Roman settlement of Skupi. Following this, the Byzantines rebuilt the city and the fortress began during the rule of Emperor Justinian I (527-565). Known as ‘the Great’, Justinian attempted to revive the united Western and Eastern Roman Empires, but in so doing, stretched the capabilities of his empire. Nevertheless, he is held in high regard and known for his projects in the arts. Most significantly, the construction of Istanbul’s centrepiece, the beautiful Hagia Sophia, is attributed to him. The Italian city of Ravenna’s Byzantine-built Basilica di San Vitale contains a distinctive mosaic of Justinian and his empress, Theodora. His regal appearance and stern, downturned eyebrows render him a distinctive-looking and easily recognisable historical figure.

Justinian’s fortress was expanded during the middle ages and was a central part of Skopje during its period as the capital of the Serbian Empire, prior to the Ottoman Empire taking over this region in the 15^th century. In 1963, the earthquake that obliterated much of Skopje’s historical buildings damaged the fortress, and it has only recently been repaired. The 1963 earthquake was devastating, and looking out from the fortress, it was evident that Skopje is not much to look at in comparison with more intact counterparts across the region. As a result of this, most of the city to the south is a mass of communist-era architecture, but the recent Greek revival structures by the river in the city centre stick out like a sore thumb. Were it not so green in the immediate foreground, certain angles really make it look like Nevada. Conversely, looking west, the recently redesigned and expanded Philip II Stadium is sleek and shiny and situated beside grassy riverbanks that could be in Germany perhaps. Then, to the north, there is a Middle Eastern scene as the Mustafa Pasha Mosque peeks over green trees with sparse, dry mountains behind. The fourth direction, east, is a glimpse into the past, with the Ottoman Turkish style old town wedged between the fortress and newer developments. The fortress itself is open to be freely explored, but there is almost nothing in terms of interpretation and no museum there. It does, however, make an excellent spot to look out upon the city and absorb the unusual combination of styles that make Skopje so diverse and interesting.

One of the towers of Skopje's fortress

The view south towards the architecturally confused city centre

The view west towards Philip II Stadium

The view north, with Mustafa Pasha's Mosque prominent

The view east over the rust-coloured roofs of the old town

Enjoying the afternoon sun in the fortress (and seemingly wearing Macedonian colours too!)

I meandered back through the old town and across the Stone Bridge, pausing to have an ice cream and watch a couple of determined fishermen trying to pull a catch of the Vardar, a river so dirty it is deemed unsafe for swimming in. In Macedonia Square, I met Martin and four of the Americans again. Collectively, we hailed a couple of taxis and within a few minutes, were racing along the wooded road up towards the cable car station at the foot of Vodno. Shortly afterwards, tickets in hand, we were on our way upwards, scrubby pines beneath us and a steadily unfolding view of Skopje and its valley behind us to the north. Although the gondola was much smaller and the journey shorter, it reminded me in terms of landscape of the ride up to the top of the Sandia mountains to the east of Albuquerque in New Mexico. The summit of Vodno is 1066 metres (an easy number for a Brit to remember!) and since 2002 has been home to one of the world’s largest crosses, a 66 metre high monument, built to commemorate 2,000 years of Christianity. Martin rather cynically suggesting that it was also to assert Christian hegemony over Muslims within Skopje. Around a third of Macedonians are Muslim and two thirds Christian, predominantly Orthodox, but in general there is little friction between these groups.

One of the old town's streets

The 66 metre high cross atop Vodno mountain

From the base of the cross, a grassy and hilly country unveiled itself to the south, abruptly interrupted by a line of blue mountains. It was a wonderful view in the soft, golden light of an autumnal late afternoon sun. From here, in the far north, a stone’s throw from Kosovo, the whole of Macedonia opened up to the south, mountains, valleys and forests extending south towards Greece. This was surely Macedonia’s glory, this stunning stretch of land revealing itself, having previously been tucked away behind Vodno. With this view, it was easy to forget the unsightliness of the needlessly glitzy, tasteless, Skopje 2014 developments. This was the Macedonia I wanted to see more of; mountains and nature, and whenever I return, I will certainly be focusing on exploring the countryside, hiking its hills, and heading southwest to Macedonia’s natural and religious spectacle, Lake Ohrid. There is plenty more to see, though Skopje was still a good starting point.

The countryside looking south from Vodno

The cable car and the view northwest towards Skopje

Tourism here is more apparent than in neighbouring Kosovo, but Macedonia is still a relatively undiscovered spot within Europe. We shared our cable car down with a group of girls from Denmark who were also exploring this part of Europe, and it seemed that a number of tourists had used Macedonia as an extension to trips to Greece. This really showed how far south I had come, now just about in the Hellenic cultural sphere having been close to Austria or Hungary in Slovenia, northern Croatia and Serbia, and in the Italian world on the Croatian coast. The historical links between Macedonia and Greece, their heritage and the controversy surrounding the respective countries’ histories and ownership of material culture were the topics of conversation on the way back down, as we slowly moved back towards the city, tinged purple in the dusk light.

Martin asked what I was doing for the evening, and I replied that I had no plans, at least not until my bus left at 2330. Accompanying me for half the day already was clearly not enough for him, so after dropping the Americans off with the rest of their mission group, he took me to his church, where he told me there was a gathering of young people from several Skopje churches and that it would be a nice opportunity to meet a few others. There, I experienced even more Macedonian hospitality than I had been shown so far, as a number of teens and people in their early twenties introduced themselves to me. Naturally, most of them spoke good English and as a token foreigner, I felt something of a minor celebrity, a source of intrigue to these amazingly friendly people who probably don’t have the chance to welcome foreigners as often as those in many other European states. There were a couple of other outsiders there, two more American missionaries who were living in Skopje and were a part of the church community. For me, I was certainly the least integrated of the people there, but felt warmly received and enjoyed the chance to clap along during a succession of lively Christian songs sung in the local tongue; not my usual style of worship, but a lovely insight into this small community and an opportunity to make a few friends whom I would be delighted to get to know better, assuming I am able to visit the country again before too long.

Skopje made an awful impression to begin with, a dusty city in unattractive countryside compared to the green valleys of the Kosovan border I had left behind. Its recent developments similarly failed to impress me, but from noon onwards, my views had been repeatedly challenged and changed and, its scruffy outskirts and controversial projects aside, by the end of the day, I could honestly say that I loved the place. For the time being though, my further travels in Macedonia would have to be put off until another visit. I was due to spend time in unspoilt mountainous countryside, not here but five hours away, in Bulgaria.

The Stone Bridge and the Archæological Museum illuminated by night