The Wild East

"This set MT off – he angrily accused the man of ‘trying to pull our pants down’"

Headed back towards Pogradec where we spent the last of our Lek before getting a taxi to the border. We were the only ones crossing and we left without having to pay the 10Euro exit charge. I saluted the double-headed eagle flag a final time and promised I’d be back soon.
Back in Ohrid we wandered over to the bus station hoping to bump into Laszlo again but he was nowhere to be seen. The mobs of people desperately trying to offer bargain-priced rooms weren’t there either. Another man, also with a bike offered us a room for 6Euros each (more than Laszlo’s 5). Mark surveyed the room critically and I could see he wasn’t overly happy. We handed over the money, before a further 2E ‘tourist tax’ was added.
This set MT off – he angrily accused the man of ‘trying to pull our pants down’ which angered him. I tried unsuccessfully to calm things down. Then the price had gone up to 12E each. We got our money back and left. Mark was determined we would stay at Tom Bombadil’s. We called on Laszlo – he immediately recognized us, but his face fell.

His room was being used (by some NATO guy) and he said we’d have problems finding somewhere as it was peak season. I was expecting to have to go back to the first guy (the price was probably 20E each by now). But Laszlo said he would see what he could do for us. After heavy negotiations, he managed to sweet-talk a neighbour into offering a room. Laszlo was a genuinely nice guy and I wish him the best for the future. I can feel a bit of sympathy for the people offering rooms though, as most are probably only trying to make a living. I can’t imagine many people in the UK being keen on letting total strangers staying with them, especially if they are rich foreigners, convinced that their host is out to screw them over!
The clown was still up to his usual tricks and there were snake charmers around this time too. We made the painful transition, mentally adjusting ourselves to the higher Macedonian food prices.

Friday
Stood in a horrendous queue to get a bus back to Skopje. As our flights went on sat and we had to get this bus, failure was not an option. The bus journey was long and hot and I wasn’t feeling too good.
We got back into Skopje around 4pm and this time we were able to get into the main hostel. A digital thermometer announced the temperature to be 39degrees, one of the hottest ever days on the Wild East. Skopje is almost devoid of tourists and we spent a pleasant couple of hours exploring the former castle and Turkish district. Skopje is an undiscovered gem and I felt I could spend a couple more days there. We finished the evening siting in the main square with a couple more beers. The only negatives were a couple of loud American businessmen raving at how cheap everything was and the Pet Shop Boys playing in the background.

Saturday
Unfortunately it was the last full day and we spent the morning wandering along the river and in the Ottoman Turkish quarter. Headed back to the hostel to order a taxi. We started driving along and then the meter was turned off, the driver pulled into a lay-by before removing his taxi light and had a conversation on his radio with an unknown colleague. I had a very uneasy feeling and could feel my heartbeat quicken and wondered what would be in store for us. We’d also made a simple mistake of not agreeing a price a price beforehand. We did make it to the airport unscathed and I noticed that the driver appeared uneasy and dropped us off at the very furthest point from the terminal building.
He then tried to charge us 20Euros.

Me and Mark were having none of it and being a short jog from the security of the airport building we in a strong position. The driver eventually got 10E (though the price should be about 7) and it transpired that the reason for his removing the light was to try and avoid the attention of the Taxi cartel outside the main entrance. He was angry but accepted his fate. The easy western meat had come with more gristle than anticipated.

Milan 7pm.
Now for the bit we weren’t looking forward to, an 18 hour overnight wait for our connection to Manchester.
I was about to leave baggage collection, when MT called me back. We had no boarding tickets for the Manchester flight and if the ticket desk wasn’t open we’d be out of the secured area for the night. I was prepared to take the gamble but in reversal of roles MT warned that we’d be in the public area with the drunks, drug-dealers, prostitutes and thieves...the only option was to try and stay in the baggage reclaim area and try not to look too conspicuous.

It was a large hall, though I was convinced we’d soon be spotted on CCTV as ‘undesirables’ and kicked out. An hour passed, we hadn’t been noticed. Mark was already fast asleep on one of the seats. I knew my only chance of getting any form of sleep would be with the help of a sedative.
I cracked open a Skopsko, then had another. The time drifted to 11pm, maybe Mark was right and we could spend the night here. Shortly after midnight I drifted into a half-doze.

The next thing I remember was being woken by having my feet kicked away from underneath me and my arms being seized. Two men in military uniforms and an attitude Mussolini would have admired were standing over us and they didn’t look sympathetic with our plight. They demanded to know our nationalities. ‘British’ earned us a laugh. I’m sure the answer “Macedonian/Eastern European” would have earned another kick.
We were dumped into the public area. It was busy, there were no seats and a group of Italian boys who were unaccompanied were having a 12 vs 12 game of football. I knew that my chances of sleep were nil and it was going to be a horribly long, uncomfortable night. At least Taylor’s predication of criminal elements proved to be a paranoid over-reaction.
The flight was delayed, I was dehydrated and tired and couldn’t wait to get on that Manchester plane. Overnight buses started to seem OK again... Join us for the next Wild east where we’ll be in Moldova!

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