Did The Earth Move For You Too?

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Macedonia is prone to earthquakes. In fact, a mere 2 weeks before our departure for Skopje, a small quake measuring 3.1 on the Richter scale hit the city. The epi-centre was only 2 miles from the city centre. Buildings shook. A bit of debris fell from buildings into the street, but no major injuries were reported. It was a different case in 1963. On 26th July, a large quake of 6.9 on the Richter scale destroyed large areas of the city. The death toll was over a 1000. There were many more injuries and most of the major buildings were left in ruins. The old Railway Station included. It was left in pieces. The clock on the front of the building has stood still ever since at the exact time of the quake - 5.17 am. We would visit the following day, as it is now the City Museum. It was 3 o'clock in the morning and the earth was moving. We were in the hotel. The windows of the room gently shook. However, this was no earthquake. It was the sound of modern Macedonia. Drum and bass reverberated on the edge of the Old Town and indeed everywhere else. The youth of Skopje were partying. It was Friday night. The hotel was the victim of the nearest bar. As it was probably more than 100 metres away, you can imagine the volume. A couple of days later, we met a girl with an English accent serving in a bar. We commented on the polished English tones. I used to live in Brighton, she elaborated. It was a bit dull in the most happening place in Sussex, so I came home. She nodded in the direction of the evening entertainment all around us.



The bus from Ohrid pulled in off the motorway and came to a grinding halt in the Friday afternoon traffic. Cars everywhere. We had just had a glimpse of the looming presence of the Philip II Stadium, where we hopefully would be the following afternoon. Local Roma kids sized their opportunity to make money, weaving between the stationary cars. Windscreen washing was the favoured ploy. Car drivers turned their windscreen wipers on to discourage the industrious hands. Windows were swiftly wound up despite the searing heat to prevent outstretched palms getting inside the vehicles. The Man in the Middle looked ruefully. After the calm order of Lake Ohrid, what have you bought me to here? Welcome to Skopje!



We sat in the traffic for about 30 minutes. At each turn of the traffic lights, we nudged a few metres. Traffic in Skopje. Get used to it! There was plenty of time to study the shops either side of the road. Plastic chairs. Plastic washing up bowls. Plastic containers of all descriptions. I had asked a friend who’d been to Macedonia before…what is it like? Plastic, he stated, you’ll see why. Perhaps this was what he meant. The journey had been reasonably swift. We had opted for the short route. Kichevo and on to Tetova. The road crews were busy building a dual carriageway. A couple of workers helped themselves to apples from the orchards alongside the road. The St Paul the Apostle Airport disappeared behind us and we drove north. The steep hillsides were covered in trees. It was easy on the eye. We stopped at a service station for a comfort break, which is really a driver cigarette opportunity. The half full bus piled off and most followed the example of the driver - as with all Balkan countries, smoking is almost a national sport. The Man in the Middle checked the route. We were close to a lake and hydro-electric dam, but it remained hidden behind the hills to the west. Hills inhabited by bears. We descended to Kichevo. Mosques were plentiful. The Balkan War had not seen the artillery habit of using the minarets as range finders here - either that or they had been swiftly rebuilt. Kichevo Bus Station saw a few passengers depart. A small narrow gauge railway engine and carriages were mounted in the middle of the approach road. There was no sign of any active rail network today on this route. Tetevo came and went.



After our delay in the traffic in Skopje, we alighted into the surprisingly orderly Bus Station. The new Railway Station is overhead and the buses effectively use the rail flyover as a roof. The usual taxi horde tried their luck and we strode off towards the city centre, following parallel to the Vardar River and seeking the shade wherever possible. It was the last day of September, but the temperature was over 30 degrees. The hotel choice on the edge of the Old Town was beyond our normal budget. We had paid for convenience, so we were not about to reside in a Communist tower block as is our usual level of extravagance. The exterior was a disappointment, but great works had gone on inside. The great works it seemed had not extended to our rather rickety toilet seat and a suspect door handle. The wi-fi worked well, it had air conditioning and the greeting was friendly. It would suffice. We hadn't counted on the bass music at 3 in the morning at this point. It would make a change from the howling dog of Ohrid!



We set off to explore. The location was so close, as to be almost in the Old Town. We were separated from the New Town by the Vardar and a road under construction. The Old Town had the usual Turkish influence. It reminded me of Sarajevo. The pedestrian walkway brought us to a different world, once the Man in the Middle had evaded the attention of his shoe polisher. He would make repeated attempts during our stay to get the leather footwear in his clutches. The preference of the many for training shoes and outdoor walking boots will ultimately spell the end for his trade and he was determined not to go out of business without a fight.



The New Town is a modern day fantasy town. Statues are ten a penny. They come in all sizes, but none approach Alexander the Great in size or stature. They are flanked by impressive buildings. White marble - or is it? Collonades adorn the entrances. An exercise in transforming the impression of the young nation in the blink of a construction crane. The FYRO of Macedonia knows how to make an impression, but at what cost? The country officially uses the FYRO prefix - Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia - because the Greeks saw the title Macedonia as one of their own provinces. However, it was quite noticeable that none of the government buildings by the river bothered with the prefix. A small detail. I am sure that will soon be consigned to history. We crossed the Stone Bridge, which is old and historic. I couldn't help think it was Las Vegas. It was a bit like being on the Strip. The buildings were almost unreal - next we would surely come to the Venitian Casino or Luxor! We would look more closely in the morning - it was time for a beer or two. We walked past Alex the Great - the sun was in the wrong position for photography - and settled in a bar close to the Maria Theresa Memorial House. It was home time on Friday and the beautiful people were finishing for the day. The bar next door was jumping with the young, prosperous office types. A rock band was setting up. They waited their opportunity to warm up and sound check, before wandering outside to have their photographs taken by their publicist. The current bar inhabitants preferred late 1970s and 1980s euro pop and disco - the tunes belted out, attracting yet more of the upwardly mobile city dwellers. The pedestrians passing by swayed with the music. It was a contrast to Ohrid, where life seemed more akin to that on a Greek Island.



The sun went down. The Skopsko draft did likewise. 110 Denars a pint and a view. It was still warm. Posters for the visit of ex Purple front man, Gillan, adorned the building opposite. The promoter had done a good job in making sure an ageing rocker would not be forgotten, if you were contemplating buying tickets for a live gig anytime soon. We eventually stirred from our seats in search of a basketball match and set off back towards the river. The city was alive with people. Bars everywhere. All full.



The handy little Maps.me app ensured we were going in the right direction, but without a bus map it was a bit tricky to decide whether any of the passing buses would make our lives easier or more difficult. The buses were strange. Red double deckers in the main. It added to the Vegas feel. What were red double deckers doing here? The Cyrillic writing on the front gave us no clue where they were heading. I persuaded the Man in the Middle to add to his step count. It’ll only take 40 minutes, I said confidently. He reluctantly plodded on. Basketball is not his Number 1 choice. A basketball match with ultras though was not to be missed.



We located the VIP Arena without too much difficulty. A ticket – that was slightly more challenging. We walked the full circle of the arena without sight of the actual ticket office. It must be behind the security cordon. How do we get there through the lines of police and security? We made an inquiry inside the adjacent café bar on the edge of the Arena. Fortunately, they directed us via their side terrace and after a minor negotiation with a security guy we circumnavigated 20 minutes of a queue and had the tickets. 200 Denar each. It was the 70^th Anniversary of the Rabotnicki club and Turkish club Fenerbahce were the guests. Rabotnicki “the workers” were not even the best team in Macedonian basketball, so Fenerbahce would sweep them aside. The VIP Arena holds 8.000 for basketball, so I estimated a crowd of over 7,000. The Rabotnicki Ultras were away to our right. The Turkish fans on the other side of the Arena. It was probably fair to say that at least every 3^rd person however was holding some form of Fenerbache sympathy. The Champions League standard proved too strong for the locals, but everybody seemed happy enough to have seen the stars from Fenerbache show their skills. The main man was Pero Antic, ex of the Rabotnicki fold, who went on to play for esteemed teams throughout Europe and in the NBA with Altlanta Hawks, before arriving at Fenerbahce in 2015. He clearly had too much time on his hands, judging by the total coverage of his arms with tattoos. He would give our Becks a run for his money. After the first choice starters had established a healthy lead, the squad toyed with the Macedonians without wanting to humiliate them at their own party. The score ended 60 – 92.





We risked the bus on departure on the basis that all buses must head to the centre. It was a correct assumption. The square behind the Ministry on the river between the Opera House and Concert Hall was set up for a rock concert. Amadeus blasted out their version of heavy metal to a crowd of smart, young office workers. They looked the least likely people to enjoy such an experience. The drink of choice - bottles of red wine - purchased from the concession stands around the outdoor venue. It was so full of people, we struggled to make our way through the throng. Rock Me Amadeus. It seems Macedonian music tastes vary drastically, but a live band of whatever is much appreciated. We dined on a grill in the Old Town and had a couple more drafts. The waiter bemoaned his lot. Everybody complaining! The worst culprit was an obnoxious Far Eastern guy with his Macedonian girlfriend, who was bizarrely dressed in a cross between the Blues Brothers and Gangnam. He drank some sort of cold tea, returned his grill for further cooking, laughed at the odd passing kid begging for coins and generally scowled at the world. Alas, he failed to burst into song from his viral video. Perhaps, he was having a night off? We retired to fall asleep to the drum and bass music. There would be football tomorrow.

Appendix 1

KK Rabotnicki 70th Anniversary

Date: 30 September 2016 @ 1900 Hours

Venue: VIP Arena Boris Trajkovski, Skope, Macedonia


KK Rabotnicki 60 KK Fenerbahce Ulcer 92

Attendance: Est 7,000

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Photos

Skopje
Mother Theresa House

Comments

[Rainyb]

Loved it, esp the architecture & impressive statues!