Scopin' Out Skopje

I’ve long been a proponent of the idea that there are but three cultures in Eastern Europe—Russian, Turkish, and German—and much like Goldilocks and her porridge, each geographically-defined linguistic grouping has mixed and matched their own formula for getting it just right. Imagine, if you will, emptying the Middle East, and filling it with Russians, and asking those Russians—no, telling. The Russian imperative is far more effective, especially on Russians—to then go about their business as usual in an entirely alien framework built to accommodate a completely separate culture and religion. Give them a Turkish accent too for good measure. Such is Skopje. 
 

I don’t care what anyone says, I liked Skopje. I actually really liked all of Macedonia. Even though I had no idea what Macedonia even was before arriving, and while I’m still not ready to concede that the “Macedonians” aren’t merely a Tito-inspired ethnonym, I was willing to entertain their claims, if only to annoy the Greeks. Following in the vein that I have no idea what a ‘Macedonian’ actually is, I’m not sure they do either. The national historical museum was conveniently closed and all I could ascertain was that their national heroes are Mother Theresa (an ethnic Albanian) someone named “Glitzy Gal.” Their word for “Thank you” is suspiciously close to Bulgarian (again, Russian with a Turkish accent) and half of the country is ethnically Albanian.

It wouldn’t be the Balkans if it weren’t host to a diverse population and Macedonia’s Balkan status would most certainly be revoked if that diverse population didn’t create an explosive political situation. Saying "thank you" in Albanian to an Albanian will result in the warmest reception. Saying it in Macedonian to an Albanian or vice versa will result in a scowl. So...because it is so hard when to know who is who, the best option is to say it in English, and they are simply polite but show relative disinterest. Such is the prisoner's dilemma that is my time in Macedonia. The only tip-off is the mosques and Latin scripture in the Albanian parts of town, but I have received a few lectures already from Albanian bakers who withhold their pains au chocolat until I master the phonetics of "Falimenderit" (sp?). With such a dangling carrot I have complied and learned quickly.
 

In my extensive research of Balkan languages (which effectively consists of learning the niceties and key phrases like “Where is ___?” and “No, I don’t need a %$#&ing taxi”), I have picked up as much as I can here or there. Of course, the secret to learning new languages, besides figuring out what the letters mean and then translating them into English in your head and then creating a sentence, is to find one word you have in common with the representative of the Marshall Tito Party in Skopje, and by the time the two of you are finished screaming "TITO!" at each other enthusiastically, you will have so many free pins, postcards, posters, and information about Tito that it won't even matter that Macedonian isn't really a language.

What may or may not interest you is that a certain neighbourhood of Skopje is the only place in Europe (the world?) where Roma is an official language. I find this remarkably progressive, and could possibly push their application to the EU forward if only for the fact that then Sarkozy would have a more specific destination in mind the next time he bulk-purchases one-way plane tickets.