Welcome to saying goodbye

Tomorrow will be the last working day of my first four weeks at the OSCE Head Quarters. During these four weeks 4 out of 22 people in my division informed me that they would not extend their contract and leave Kosovo this summer. That is more than 18%. More than I have ever experienced before.

Such a turnover rate requires a lot of attention: planning an exit conversation, arranging temporary replacement, making sure that files are handed over correctly, preparing recruitment, organizing a leave party, buying a present and preparing a speech.

Other managers told me that this is one of the characteristics of the OSCE. But this summer it is worse then ever. The main reason is the expected status settlement of Kosovo. Most of the people that are leaving have been here several years. They have contributed to bringing Kosovo from a civil war to the threshold of something new. For them it must feel like a right time to leave.

But it makes me a little sad. I had expected that some of the people that are leaving could have become friends. Now I have come to realize that making friends here is not that easy. All internationals will leave one day. Some earlier than me.

Last week somebody I just met greeted me with "Welcome to saying goodbye..."

Let's get the party started right!

Last week during the lunch of a conference that we had organized I was seated next to the main editor of Koha Ditore - the biggest Kosovar newspaper. To get the conversations started we discussed if and when independence would come. Since talking with Kosovars about independence is like talking with the Dutch about the weather or with Americans about how you are I felt the need for a different angle: I wanted to know if anybody was preparing the independence party... (you know me).

And yes they are. He told me that the current Kosovar President Fatmir Sejdiu recently visited China to discuss their support for the UN Security Council Resolution on the independence of Kosovo. The journalist told me he was there to do other things to: to buy huge amounts of fireworks for the independence celebration.

I was pleasantly surprised. But I was also worried. The visit was already one month ago and storing fireworks is not an easy thing to do. I asked him where the fireworks were now. Then he leaned over and whispered: "Don't worry... we know how to hide ammunition..."

Identification I

Early June the provisional Kosovar government announced a public competition for the Kosovar flag and emblem. Since Kosovo is on the verge of becoming a new country these things have to be arranged too. The competition document specifies the criteria that submissions need to meet in order to be accepted. The criteria include the following: the flag needs to be simple in design and colour scheme (fine), without inscriptions (to avoid discussions about the use of the Latin (=Albanian) or Cyrillic alphabet (= Serb)), unique and original (okay), to reflect the Euro-Atlantic aspirations of Kosovo (EU and/or NATO), not to resemble any flag of any political party (especially not the political offspring of the Kosovo Liberation Army), movement (especially not the radical independence NGO Vetevendosje) or institution of Kosovo (especially not the Serbian Orthodox Church), not to reflect allegiance to any ethnic community in Kosovo (not to the Albanians, not to the Serbians), not to contain any eagle symbol (not the Albanian black double-headed eagle, nor the Serbian white double-headed eagle), not to be solely based on the red-and-black (Albanian) or red-white-and-blue (Serbian) combinations of colours, and must in general be in accord with the Comprehensive Proposal for Kosovo Status Settlement. Pfffwwwttt....

What starts of as a good idea ends in a pretty boring braincracker. The new flag should do anything but reflect the history of this region and the identity of its citizens. It will be like a marriage without passion...

One example above is according to the rules. The other is not. Can you guess?

A new home

I didn't reach Split. Around 23:00 I stranded in Trogir - a jewel of a walled town with a wide waterfront promenade that encloses a maze of medieval streets. I found a nice little hotel, dumped my stuff and hurried to get something to eat. In a street as wide as a table I found a nice fish restaurant. But I felt somewhat alone eating my grilled Dorade since a very extended German family next to me was loudly reminiscing about the boat trip they had made that day. The most sensitive activity when travelling alone is the evening diner. In Chinese restaurants they put you at least next to the aquarium...

The next day I drove to Dubrovnik. After a short lunch I left the coast behind to go to Bosnia. That means nothing more then driving up the hill. During the Bosnian war the Bosnian Serbs bombed Dubrovnik to pieces from this rim. But time has taken revenge: nowadays Dubrovnik is completely restored in its old glory, many buildings in the Bosnian Republica Srpska on the other hand have slowly fallen to pieces.

From Bosnia to Montenegro is only a 30-minute drive. I crossed the border around sunset and hurried to get to Niksic - the second biggest city of the country. But with only one hotel. And with the annual high school ball that same night in the disco of this same hotel :-( ... So I decided to go out myself. That was a good idea. Pretty soon I was the mascot of some local machos. They showed me Niksic nightlife. And I got drunk enough to sleep tight :-)

The next day I drove to Beljo Polje where I would spend the night in the mountain house of Erik and Sevda. Erik had arrived that same day (from Vienna). Before evening fell we made a nice walk through the hills and discussed the social fabric of this predominantly Muslim Slavic region. We went to bed early. The next day we drove together to Kosovo. Erik had driven this more often, but I wasn't prepared for the beauty: each turn would provide another magnificent view. This continued until we reached a height of 2.500 meter and then - when we drove over Rozaje pass - suddenly there it was: Kosovo. I stopped. The road seemed to disappear in the depths before me. Below was the city of Peja. In the distance you could see the mountain rim that split Kosovo in two from North to South. Behind that was Pristina.

I lost Eric in the heaviest hail shower I have ever experienced. It started with sudden darkness and a loud tick. I thought somebody was throwing stones at my car (I was in Kosovo after all) but then I saw that all cars started looking for shelter along the side of the road and I realized that this was going to be serious. And it was. The hail was as big as cherries. I was afraid the windshield would break and moved to the back of the car. Sitting there I couldn't do anything but grin at the other drivers.

At 20:00 'o clock I arrived in Pristina. Without any problem I drove straight to Kuvendi i Bujanit (not that I have a good memory, Pristina is simply very small) and parked my car. Unloading took 20 minutes. When I was ready I went to the balcony and made the picture above. Arriving in my new home felt good. Very good.

Leaving Europe. Or not?

A long tunnel separates Austria from Slovenia (see picture). It felt as if the curtains were dropped and then opened again. Enter bright sunshine, an empty highway and a new language. Enter Slavic Europe. The thought of going to Ljubljana - Laibach - made me smile. When I was younger and more subversive I used to listen to a band with same name. Unfortunately I couldn't play their tongue in cheek march music since it was somewhere deep down in one of the boxes in the back of the car. Ljubljana was smaller and quieter than I had expected. But it had squatters. And several falafel snack bars run by Egyptian immigrants. Just like in the Lijnbaansteeg in my neighbourhood in Amsterdam! This was definitely still old Europe.

The next day I paid a visit to the Skocjan caves. It was the absolute 'top of caves': in karst stone the Reka (which means 'river' - Slovenes are known for being poetic) has carved out an underground cathedral with a ceiling of 60 metres height. Completely covered with stalactites and -mites. Occasionally you had to cross bridges while the river was running 50 meters under you. A magnificent thing to do when you realize that the surface of the earth is 100 meter above.

That night I stayed over in Piran/Pirano. Enter Latin Europe. Enter good food: Piranese air-dried ham + gnocchi with shrimps + pepper steak in orange/port sauce + 1 litre local wine + grappa from the house. By the time I was finished I was pretty tipsy. Just like the group of local artist on the table next to me. This turned into a joint pub-crawl along the boulevard that lined the Adriatic sea. I fell on my bed drunk.

And woke up too late with a headache. It was damn hot (Why again had I been so determined to have leather seats in my car?). I crossed the Croat border at Portoroz/Portorose. This was the end of the European Union. And they made me realize it. I had to unpack my whole car (computer, printer, scanner, drives, suits, books and my complete wine collection). How to explain to a local customs officer that you are on your way to work in Kosovo for three years for the OSCE and that you need all this stuff? You can't. So I had sit with the secretary to make a list of all items, fax it to the Netherlands Ministry of Foreign Affairs to get it signed and stamped. Slavic civil servants LOVE stamps.

Two hours later I drove through Istria. My God what was this beautiful! Pine trees stood lonely in endless rolling hills dotted with compact stone villages. In Porec/Parenzo I visited a Byzantine church from the 6th century and had a fantastic lunch: giant mussels in tomato/cognac sauce. While digesting I realized it was time to make some kilometres. Kosovo was still 1.000 kilometres more south. I jumped into my car, pushed the throttle and left for Split.

Kastelruther Spatzen

The first stop on my way to Pristina was Geverik: the small village 15 kilometres North of Maastricht where my parents lived. It gave me a good feeling to see them, my brother and his wife and the landscape of my youth before leaving The Netherlands behind. In the early afternoon of Sunday I reached the German highway. Now I could finally test my new car! And its radio. While listening to Paul McCartney, Paul Weller, Balkan Beats, Goran Bregovic and much more others (thank you Harald and Horst) I floated with 160 km per hour to Plzen in the Czech Republic (fffwwwooeeezzzsss). This was definitely not the shortest way, but I really wanted to have a Pilsener Urquell! At 23:00 I was sitting behind my beer in a bar with 4 other tourists from Germany. The Czechs were all home. No Pentecost for the Czechs. They had to work on Monday.

The next day I drove the Southern Bavaria. My goal was Neuschwannstein - the kitsch castle of Ludwig II. That night I slept in Gast Hof Steen in Unterammergau. It was as if I was time warped into one of those German Schlagershows that my father loves to watch on Saturday evenings. Any minute Heino could step into the room. Katja Ebstein brought me the Sauerkraut with Wurst. Unfortunately the Kastelruther Spatzen were too drunk to play. Especially the tuba player. He had to go home early (see picture).

The day after I drove through Austria. I passed numerous mountains, valleys, villages, tunnels and gas stations. It was a great ride although the weather was really bad. Just before evening fell, the sun came through the clouds. And I entered Slovenia.

Interim administration Kosovo

Kosovo...

When the word first surfaced in Western media it came along with images of refugees, para military commandos and destroyed buildings. Even 8 years after the war and the NATO bombings - while searching the internet for some nice pictures that I could use for the invitation of my goodbye party (see picture) - I only found torn apart corpses, military maps and destroyed cultural heritage (just google Kosovo and search for pictures). The image of Kosovo on the web was fully determined by the 1999 war: frontline journalism, Serb and Albanian propaganda and NGO reports. It looked as a place were you should definitely NOT go to.

But I did. I left Amsterdam on May 26th 2007. For 3 years. I had been seconded by the Netherlands Ministry of Foreign Affairs to the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) Mission in Kosovo. The Finish ex president Martti Ahtisaari had just presented his plan for a final status settlement to the United Nations Security Council. In his plan he proposed to grant Kosovo independence under strong international supervision. Essential to his plan were the paragraphs on decentralisation and protection of the religious cultural heritage. It was going to be my task to monitor the implementation of these paragraphs. A difficult job in an extremely politized environment.

Okay, I was probably going to work hard. But I was definitely going to recreate hard too! In this blog you will find an irregular update on both. I hope you will like it. And that it will contribute to improving the image of this region...