It has been a long journey by all means. The landscape passes by my window but for ends on it remains the same, or familiar at least. Some road signs and billboards remind me of a change not integral but of a different language and a different country. I am not in Greece. Confused in the beginning as I try to read the signs, but excited to be for the first time to these parts of the world with all their historical significance that it has become almost mythical for the last decades.
Skopje for some, F.Y.R.O.M. for others and Macedonia for the rest of the world.
We move from place to place in reconaissance, or in other words to find out about the people and the country. To put the pazzle together. From the ethnic Greeks, to the ethnic Albanians, the Roma, and the indigenous? peoples that comprise the country, we move in a frenzy. There is so much there and there is always so little time. I find it difficult to comprehend all the political differences between them and my country, I am not aware or interested in such things as national identity.
In fact I feel unconfortable. Like there is a force that keeps me or prohibit me to be able to call it one name or the other. There is a preconceived idea from our part, and it is true from theirs too. But this is not the point. and as I have mentioned and I will again, borders interest me in a deeper way. Not the flag, not so much the geography, but the culture and the force that is inbetween.
