November 2010: Macedonia, Albania, Montenegro

November 2010: Macedonia, Albania, Montenegro

Dear Friends,

Your pilgrims boarded a bus in Prizrem and crossed over beautiful, rugged mountains to Macedonia. We cycled southwards and spent our first night north of the capital city, Skopje. Shortly before nightfall, we met some men by a truck parking lot. They called the owner to ask if we could tent on the grounds, and he drove over and graciously offered to let us sleep in the (heated!) office. One of the men told us (in Serbian): "There is a lot of crime here around Skopje. But you are safe here: we are all Muslims and there is a watchman here all night." After our experiences of inter-religious tensions in the Balkans, his words surprised us. But by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, we quickly understood that, in saying they are Muslim, he meant: they take their religion seriously, follow the Law, and consider hospitality to be a sacred obligation. We had a peaceful night and a pleasant send-off the next morning.

We rode to Skopje, the birthplace of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. They are rightfully proud of their native daughter there. Apparently, her parents were ethnic Albanians from Kosovo. But she was born in this city where Orthodox, Catholic and Muslim; Albania and Slav, lived together in relative harmony.

As the autumn was upon us and the weather was getting cooler (although still pleasant by day), we moved quickly. Traveling through western Macedonia, we were quite surprised by the number of mosques along the way. We spent some time in Ochrid, a city by a beautiful lake, full of ancient churches and monasteries. From there we went to Svieti Naum. The wonderful springs and streams there are like open doors between the visible world and the "world of invisible causes". The monastery is beautiful and religious services are faithfully held by a lone Orthodox hieromonk. As a United Nations Cultural Heritage site, the monastery has received protection and needed improvements. However, one feels the difference between the structures made by monks and pious workers in earlier times and those done recently for touristic and economic reasons.

Our brief time in Macedonia ended as we cycled along the coast of Lake Ochrid and crossed the border to Albania. We continued cycling along the lake and stopped in Pogradec. The contrast to Macedonia was clear: the lake-shore, and elsewhere, were littered with trash. Many of the buildings are in a poor state of repair. However, the people are quite friendly, helpful and talkative.

The origin of the Albanian people and language are not clear to modern scholars. Some researchers believe that their language is a form of Illyrian--the ancient language of the per-Hellenic people of the western Balkans. It appears to be unrelated to any other European language, and this proved to be quite a trial for us at first. However, many people can speak at least a bit of Italian, Greek or German, and some young people speak English quite well. The son of an Orthodox priest here was one such person. We had an introduction to his father, Fr. Todi, from an Abbott in Serbia, and he received us with great hospitality.

Our next major stop was the capital city, Tirane. Long before coming to Albania, we had heard about Bishop Anastasius, the head of the autocephalos Albanian Orthodox Church. He is of Greek origin, and we heard rumors in Greece some years ago that he was too holy and spiritual for the church leaders there, so they sent him to Albania. He has done quite amazing work here in the poorest European country. During the very repressive regime of Enver Hoxha, all religious buildings in the country were utterly destroyed. All religious activity, including praying or crossing ones self in public, or even growing a beard (beards are typical for Orthodox and Muslim clerics)--were forbidden. Today, according to surveys, about 15% of Albanians call themselves Christian, under 30% Muslim, and the remainder, atheist or agnostic.

The new bishop had very little to begin with when he started. Nonetheless, not only has he rebuilt the cathedral and a number of churches, he has also established a theological seminary in Durres, a school, a university, a clinic and a number of other charitable institutions, including an orphanage. The latter impressed us deeply by the dedication of the staff and by how well the children are doing--emotionally and academically. In addition to love, the staff have filled the environment with cleanliness, order, beauty and rhythm--to a degree that is unknown to most of the other children we met in the country.

Another "miracle man" whom we met—and had the joy and honor of staying with--was Dag Rane, a protestant missionary from Norway. Dag had been a physician: he left his life in Norway to become missionary some fifteen years ago. He lives in Fushë-Krujë--a settlement originally built to house workers in a nearby cement plant, and probably one of the least attractive cities in the country. He has established a free church there in a rented hall.

By Norwegian standards, Dag's house is quite primitive: no central heat, sporadic electricity and water supply, old furniture and a larder stocked mostly with gifts or food he found washed up on the beach. (Most garbage seems to be thrown in the rivers and streams here, and then often finds its way to the sea.) But he is quite sought after, and a seemingly constant stream of people come to his home for various reasons.

Dag has had many threats on his life. In 1997, a nation-wide pyramid scheme collapsed and thousands of families lost their life-savings and property. In the ensuing outrage, people raided the government armories and a period of lawless chaos broke out, where even young boys were carrying and using guns. No one dared to invite Dag in his home and thus invite Dag's enemies to attack him there. But he refused to "take his hand off the plough" by leaving Albania. So he spent about a year sleeping on rooftops. Murders of revenge are a problem in Albania, especially in the north. Albanian society is largely tribal, especially in the north. If some one harms another person, it is considered a attack on the clan. Revenge consists of a member of the offended clan killing the most prominent or prosperous member of the clan of the perpetrator.

Dag has built up a congregation in Fushë-Krujë and also spends much time as a missionary in the surrounding areas. He is a source of inspiration guidance, help and stability to many people. While we were there, a flood made many homes uninhabitable for a while and it ruined food supplies which people had bought for the winter. Dag was able to organize relief for many of the flood victims. Of course, it was not without trials. The local ideas about organization and practicality are rather different than those in Norway. But in the end, the essential work of charity was done.

New-found friends (one owned a local food store, the other a computer shop) took us to the ancient city of Krujë nearby. The castle, today a museum, of George Kastrioti Skenderbeg (1405-1468) is there. He is considered the founder of the nation of Albania. As a young Albanian prince during the Ottoman rule, he was taken as a hostage to the court of the Turkish sultan Murad II, and educated there. He was a bright pupil and later a skilled military commander in the sultan's service. The latter was so impressed by his martial prowess that he named him ?skender Bey (Lord Alexander in Turkish) after Alexander the Great. Later, while on an expedition for the sultan in Niš, he renounced the sultan. He returned to Krujë, embraced the Christian religion, united the various Albanian princes and threw off the Ottoman yoke against great odds. He is the most beloved folk-hero in Albania today. Vivaldi wrote an opera about him. Lord Byron wrote this about him in Childe Harold's Pilgrimage:

Land of Albania! where Iskander rose,
Theme of the young, and beacon of the wise,
And he his namesake, whose oft-baffled foes,
Shrunk from his deeds of chivalrous emprize:
Land of Albania! let me bend mine eyes
On thee, thou rugged nurse of savage men!
The cross descends, thy minarets arise,
And the pale crescent sparkles in the glen,
Through many a cypress grove within each city's ken.

Your pilgrims had many rich experiences in Europe's poorest country. We met with friendliness, hospitality and generosity. We also saw the results of perhaps the most brutal "socialist experiment" in post-war Europe. The former brought us hope and joy. The latter brought us sobering insight. We thank God for both.

We said good-bye to our friends in Albania, cycled along the coast to Montenegro and headed north. The tourists had gone, the roads were quiet, and we experienced a much needed time of peace and healing, cycling by the sea, the mountains and the forests. Our greetings go out to all of our readers, and our heartfelt thanks goes to all. who have helped us on our journey.

October 2010: Kosovo

Dear Friends,

After the last report from central Serbia, your pilgrims spent a quiet night in a small monastery and then began cycling south. The road was quiet and the surroundings beautiful. The noise, traffic and hectic pace in and around Belgrade seemed far away indeed.

When we arrived at the boundary to Kosovo, we first had to pass through a Serbian checkpoint. A bit farther down the road we came to an international checkpoint. It was manned by Serbs in Kosovo police uniform and international forces in combat gear with flak vests. The European border guards who checked us were very friendly. They did not see a lot of people on bicycle there, but we were not the first. They told us that travel in Kosovo is, essentially, safe for Americans. However, they said that we should beware of the Serbian areas, as they could be dangerous. In fact, they said that for our safety, we should not stop or speak to any one until we crossed the Ibar River and passed from the Serbian to the Albanian area. Apparently they were either super athletes, or had never pedaled a fully loaded bicycle any great distance. In any event, they said that if we had to stop, we should flag down either a EU-Lex or KFor vehicle, and the driver could direct us to a safe hotel. (Note: EU-Lex is an international corps of police officers, border guards and judicial officials from the European Union. KFor is a military force under NATO command, but including contingents from non-NATO countries like Switzerland.) They also told us that Camp Bondsteel, in the southwest of Kosovo, is the largest US base in the region, and that we might get help there in an emergency.

We thanked them for their advice and concern, and continued cycling south, along the Ibar. As we passed through a number of towns and villages, it became clear that, we were in a deprived area. The houses and cars were in a poor state of repair. Many cars had no license plates. The shops had very little food in them. Much of the time there was no electricity, so lights, cash registers and refrigerators were usually off. The people seemed very wary and reserved at first. However, when we spoke to them in the little bit of Serbian we had learned, they became friendly. When traveling through the areas of central Serbia that were hard hit by the NATO bombing in 1999, we were often asked where we come from. We quickly learned first to say that we are Greek Orthodox, and then to add that we are Americans. This approach continued to work well. There was no sign of the hostility that the border guards had warned us about.

Before going on, a little background history might be helpful here. These are some things we learned while traveling in Serbia that we found useful in making sense of what we experienced. Kosovo is considered the spiritual heart of Serbia. It was full of beautiful and ancient Orthodox monasteries. The Serbian nation, in a sense, began at the battle of Kosovo Polje, when various noblemen united under Count Lazarus (later Saint Lazarus) to fight against the invading Ottomans. They were greatly outnumbered. Perhaps some of the trouble in this region began with Count Milosh. In order to weaken the invaders, he pretended to surrender. When led to the Sultan to offer his submission, he unchivalrously pulled out his sword and murdered the Ottoman leader. The battle was furious, there were heavy casualties on both sides, and Lazarus was killed. However, although the Ottomans could claim a victory, they were so weakened that their invasion of Europe was brought to a standstill for a long time.

The immediate stage for the present conflict seems to have been set during the Second World War. Albania was occupied by the Axis powers, Serbia sided with the Allied powers. The former had taken control of Kosovo and expelled many Serbs. When the communists under Tito took power after the war, they prevented Serb refugees from returning to Kosovo.

In the late 1990's, as the old Yugoslavia was coming apart, ethnic troubles in Kosovo escalated. Irregular military and paramilitary groups of Albanians and Serbs fought each other and terrorized the civilian population. Smaller ethnic minorities, such as Gypsies and Croats were also targets of violence. We met an international expert who had spent nearly seven years in ex-Yugoslavia investigating allegations of war crimes and interviewing victims and witnesses. He told us that in his experience, and that of his colleagues, there were roughly an equal number of war crimes committed by Serbs and by Albanians. However, he said there were virtually no cases of Serb violence again other Serbs, while there were numerous cases of terror against uncooperative Albanians by Albanian paramilitaries.

In 1999, US President Clinton ordered the air attack on Serbia. As is well known, many civilians lost their lives in that attack. Less well known is that the industrial and economic base of Serbia was virtually destroyed. Also, because refineries, chemical plants and mines were targeted, and (apparently) radioactive munitions were used, the environmental effects of the attack were significant. Soon afterward, KFor forces, the EU-Lex and the United Nations moved into Kosovo and de facto govern the territory.

In 2004, there was an increase in the unrest in Kosovo. Three Albanian children had drowned while swimming. A rumor (apparently unsubstantiated) went around that Serbs had chased them into the water. There were attacks—some of them well orchestrated--by mobs on unarmed Serbs. One Albanian man drove his car into a group of Serbian children, killing one. Serbian children were shot while swimming in a stream. Monks and nuns were murdered, some brutally. Many Serbs were forced to move north of the Ibar, or to leave Kosovo all together. Many ancient churches and monasteries were destroyed. Sadly, most of these temples were under the protection of KFor troops. We met a number of nuns and monks who told us that the soldiers had taken them away from their monasteries by force, telling them that their mission was to "protect lives, not property." The churches were left unprotected and were destroyed. Some appeared to have been expertly demolished with high power explosives. A UN worker we met confirmed this suspicion.

Even after having traveled to forty-five countries, Kosovo made a strange impression. We had been in many countries that were member-nations of NATO, the EU, or both. But here we were in a land (albeit, not recognized as a country by many governments) created and run by NATO by and the EU. It was a bit like something out of a futuristic movie. Armed foreign soldiers moved about. There were large, expensive cars with tinted windows and EU or UN license plates on the streets. The official currency is the Euro. Businesses and banks from many foreign investors can be seen in the bigger cities. Many of them fly the flags of their homelands over their property. Yet, there are few jobs and virtually no exports. Family members working abroad, gifts or loans from EU-member countries, the transport of illegal drugs and weapons, and human trafficking, support the economy. And although most people are friendly and helpful, there is a constant, unmistakable sense of tension and danger in the air. As can be imagined, every one we met had a story of loss and suffering to tell about themselves and their loved ones.

The Albanian population is relatively young. Most young adults we met were studying: primarily business, computer-technology or foreign languages. Very few could find jobs. They seemed to be surrounded by American or American-style culture: loud music, violent or lewd movies, and a desire for big expensive cars and electronic goods. On the other hand, these influences—thus far—seemed not to have gone in too deeply: they were open, friendly, optimistic and very family-oriented. When we told them that we are American, the typical response was: "America: good country. Bill Clinton: very good man." In Pristina, the capital, we saw the famous statue of Clinton as well as a large copy of the Statue of Liberty in New York. We were very touched by the friendliness and kind hospitality we received.

The Serbian population, in contrast, was mostly elderly. They, too, had little work. Many—especially the women—did not dare to walk outside of their enclaves, even in daylight. There had been many kidnappings on the roads, and the fate of the victims was often gruesome. Most Serbs had fled. Those who remained seemed to be getting very little of the foreign aid pouring into the country. Many Serbian villages had been destroyed. We spent one of our last nights in a temporary shelter with a man and his elderly mother in such a village. The bombed school and broken houses made it quite eerie, although he told us that things are quite safe now. However, here and elsewhere we heard that, tragically, only those villages survived which did not allow any Albanians to buy houses in them.

Yet here, too, the hospitality was warm and generous. We stayed with a family in a Serbian enclave for a couple of days, had many deep conversations and shared many joys and sorrows. At one point, we became aware that they had bought food on credit at the local shop because they had run out of money. We tried, gingerly, to offer them some money, but they refused it in no uncertain terms. Before leaving, however, I hid some money in the kitchen, without saying anything. Some weeks later, we got an email from our newfound friends saying that we had caused them great trouble. They found the hidden money and quickly deduced how it got there. They felt that they could not keep it for themselves, so they took it to a nearby monastery as a gift. However, the abbot told them that it would be a sin for him to take money from people who travel as pilgrims without a home. He said they had to take the money elsewhere, perhaps to some one in dire need. "Now see what trouble you have caused us!" they wrote. We learned an important lesson from this episode, not only about the depth of true holy hospitality, but also about tact and taking care not to "rob others of their treasure in heaven".

As we left Kosovo and headed towards Macedonia, we were full of many impressions and feelings: the horror of the memories and effects of the war; the almost surreal, disquieting nature of the current "peace"; the goodness we had met in Serb and Albanian alike, and the tragedy that, whatever the causes, the ancient, wisdom-filled Serbian culture and the young, vibrant Albanian culture would not be able to meet here for a long time to come. Perhaps we shed more tears here than on any portion of our journey so far.

We also thanked God for our meetings with so many individuals--living in conditions that are hard for most Westerners to imagine—who chose love over hate, truth over mass-propaganda, and hope over despair. We hold them gratefully in our prayers, along with every one else who has supported us materially and spiritually on this pilgrimage.

p.s. For an insider's view of the working of international organizations in Kosovo, look at the article on this link: http://www.juliagorin.com/wordpress/?p=2103

September 2010: Serbia

September 2010: Serbia

Dear Friends,

The last report about your pilgrims left them cycling along the Danube River in eastern Croatia. They then crossed the border into Serbia. The first impression was of friendliness. However, there was also an impression of poverty, especially in the small cities and big towns. We then started cycling up the Fruška Gora (Фрушка гора)—a holy mountain with many monasteries and a national park--and we visited the women’s monastery at Beočin (Беочин).

Our first night in Serbia was a bit difficult, and we did not have an undisturbed night in the tent. However, we returned to the monastery the next morning. During church services, we heartily thanked God for His protection the night before. After breakfast we cycled through the Fruška Gora National Park to Šišatovac (Шишатовац) Monastery. It was there that we met Bishop Artemije and a number of monks living with him. They received us with kindness and holy hospitality. We greatly appreciated not only their friendliness, but also the many earnest conversations we had with the monks there.

The bishop was—and apparently still is—at the center of a storm of controversy within the Serbian Orthodox Church. Later, we were to hear many accusations against him. However, our first, unprejudiced impression of him was of a kind, elderly gentleman. Although he held himself with episcopal dignity, he was approachable (he spoke perfect Greek), simple and lived in very modest surroundings. The church there was still in a state of disrepair, having been damaged during the Second World War. The monks were living five to a cell for lack of space and they shared one old automobile among them. We also experienced heartfelt, holy hospitality in the monastery and were deeply moved not only by the pious devotion and warmth of the monks, but also by their great sense of humor.

One other thing made a deep impression on us. Many people travelled to Šišatovac for church services, sometimes making difficult and expensive trips from all over the country. One could feel the intensity of their prayers as they stood long hours during the services.

When we were there, the Synod—the governing body of the Serbian Orthodox Church—had removed Artemije as bishop of Kosovo-Metochia. Although various unproven allegations were made against him, the basic disagreement appears to have been over his outspoken stance regarding Kosovo. His position was that Kosovo should remain part of the Republic of Serbia, and that a form of government similar to that in Switzerland should be established, guaranteeing the rights of the ethnic groups and local autonomy on issues of education, religion, culture and local administration.

He spoke out against the ongoing expulsion of ethnic Serbs from Kosovo, and against the harassment of those remaining. He protested against the destruction, after the war, of some 150 churches under the protection of U.S. and European military forces. He decried the murder of Serbs and Albanians and the sale of their organs by ethnic Albanian militia leaders two years before this scandal hit the newspapers. Perhaps above all, regardless of whatever mistakes he may or may not have made , he stood as the most visible reminder that Kosovo-Metochia is the homeland of the spiritual heart of Serbia.

We have been informed that Artemije was recently ordered defrocked as priest and bishop by the Synod. He has stated publicly that he holds this act to be both uncanonical and illegal.

After leaving Šišatovac we started riding towards Belgrade, the capital city. Along the way, we met refugees from the post-Yugoslavia era wars and many people who were unemployed or underemployed, largely due to the war and the destruction of so much industry during the bombing in 1999. The friendliness and hospitality we met were heartwarming. However, the conditions for bicycling in Belgrade (except for some trails along the rivers) were (far) less than ideal.

While in Belgrade, two Orthodox sisters took us under their wings. In addition to arranging for our lodging and helping us with all practical details, they brought us to remarkable temples and monuments, like the church of St. Petka (Paraskevi) and the immense cathedral of St. Sava the patron saint of Serbs. We also met a kind, well-educated young woman working in a natural food store. She told us that jobs are very hard to come by, and that without connections, it is impossible for her to find work in the field she trained for. However, she said that she did not mind the financial and other hardships of her life in Belgrade. As long as there is no more bombing and no more war, she told us, she can accept all the other difficulties.

It would be too much to recount all of our meetings and experiences in central Serbia. However, one of the highlights was Čačak (Чачак). We stayed with Tatiana, an English school teacher we had met, her father who is a hobby bee keeper and her mother, who cooked like a fine hotel chef, both in quality and quantity. The Ovčar-Kablar Gorge (Овчарско-кабларска клисура) on the Morava River is nearby. This is often called the Serbian Mount Athos because of the many ancient monasteries there and the stunning natural beauty. We spent much time breathing in the holy atmosphere there.

Another highlight was Žiča (Жича) monastery, near Kraljevo. It was built over eight hundred years ago by Stephan, the first king of Serbia. The mother superior is a woman of great holiness, and the sisters (and a few other visitors) are extremely musical. Their joy in prayer and song was combined with a deep sorrow for the destruction wrought on their country during the NATO bombing in 1999 and for the children ill from the environmental effects of the war. This is, perhaps, an example of the “imitation of Christ”, to open one’s heart to a love for, and joy in, God and humanity, while at the same time feeling compassion for a suffering world, so ill on the bodily, psychological and spiritual levels.

After leaving Žiča, we visited another ancient and historically important holy place, Studenica (Студеница) monastery, built in 1190 and housing marvelous frescoes. From there your pilgrims continued cycling south through the beautiful, mountainous Serbian landscape towards Kosovo. More about that in the next report.

August, 2010: Germany, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia

Germany, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia
August, 2010

Dear Friends,

Please excuse the very long gap in our reports. Your pilgrims last wrote to you from Denmark. From there, they went to Heidelberg, Germany where they sang at the wedding of their friends, Beate and Michael. Many years ago, before the couple had even met each other, Beate asked us, if she ever got married, to please sing "The Wedding Song" at the ceremony. Her request was very happily fulfilled! In addition, William wrote a new song just for the occasion. (There is a link to the text on this site.) The reception was held on an organic farm, and your pilgrims spent the night with many of the other guests celebrating, dancing and then sleeping in the straw.

Soon afterwards, we went to Austria by train and started cycling toward the Balkans. In Austria and Slovenia, we met many friendly people, cycled on well-paved, quiet roads and cycle tracks, and felt ourselves more and more refreshed with each passing day. It was a good preparation for what was to come.

We crossed the border into Croatia in a quiet, rural area. Many years ago, we had been in the tourist-area on the Croatian coast where foreigners were seen only as cash-cows to be milked for every possible dollar. This time, we were inland, in the north, in what seemed to be a different world. The traffic was light, the weather was generally fine and we received very kind hospitality as we slept at churches or tented on farms.

Perhaps the highlight of our time in Croatia was a visit to an old friend whom we met seven years ago. Katharina lives in Osijek in the east of Croatia. She was there at the time of the secession of Croatia from Yugoslavia. It was a city where ethnic Croats and ethnic Serbs lived together in relative peace, until the war. The town was shelled. There were violence and atrocities by one ethnic group against the other. People became extremely suspicious of one another. Katharina was a successful physician, and could easily have left the city for a safer area. But she decided to stay and stand as a witness for peace and sanity. She was joined by a man who was moved by the same ideals. Thus began the "Centar za Mir"--the "Center for Peace" which is still in operation today. She and her work have been internationally acclaimed. When we met her, she was the keynote speaker at a conference on peace at a college in Norway. She has received a number of awards and recognitions. Yet, like the old saying that a prophet is not recognized in her own land, the reaction to her in Croatia is quite mixed. Her own thoughts about peace have evolved through the years. She knew early on that peace is not just the cessation of hostilities. True peace requires justice–which includes a willingness by all parties to admit their wrongs. Over time she has come to see that peace also requires an active spiritual life. This is very similar to the message of Peace Pilgrim.

Part of spiritual life is the path of self-discovery. You realize that you have a body, but you are not your body. You have a gender, but your innermost essence is beyond male nor female. You live in a race, a nation or a religion, but you are not that race, nation or religion. You are a unique individual and an immortal soul, called to use your God-given talents and abilities for the benefit of others. If enough people in a society have this realization, there can be peace. Then they see that Croat, Serb or Bosniak–Catholic, Orthodox or Muslim–all are different in their expression but similar in their essence.

These simple thoughts were confirmed time and again as we cycled through the east of Croatia: past the minefields (still dangerous today); past the bombed out factories and houses; at the homes and churches in the ethnically Serbian villages which are falling apart since the people have left. They were confirmed speaking to people who had been wounded, widowed or orphaned by the conflict. They were even confirmed by the hollowness of the words of those who would exploit the pain and destruction of the war in order to continue ethnic strife and further their political careers.

Your pilgrims turned their bicycles toward Serbia and continued riding. More about that in the next report.