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Anecdote - The Girls of Novi Sad - Part 8/8 The room I was greeted with upon arriving to the girls home. Totally blown away by their generosity and hospitality. Miss it.

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Anecdote - The Girls of Novi Sad - Part 7/8

I stayed another night extra and was about to stay a 5th. I didn’t feel like leaving. Why would I? I had a good thing going here. I had a familiarity with these girls that I haven’t felt in months. Friendship, trust. Normally, I only share this feeling with friends that I’ve known for years. All these friends were still in Australia, and I hadn’t seen them for months. But, I had to leave some time. Europe is a big, beautiful place. I only stumbled across these beautiful girls by exploring it. Who knows what other good things are still out there for me to find? Travelling and exploring...just for the fuck of it. It’s an incredible thing that I get to do. And I’m very lucky that I got the chance to do it. My heritage gave me a clear path to and through Europe. My education and work allowed me to make good money and save it up. The Australian dollar is strong, the minimum wage high, and my passport opened up pretty much all of Europe for me. I could move around without a visa easily, to a lot of places. This was the final topic I talked about with Danijela. She didn’t have work for my last day. So we rented bikes and rode around the city. At about 6pm we found ourselves by the riverside with one fork, one spoon, and a tub of ice cream. She was so upset that the shop didn’t have two spoons. But I was happy to eat ice cream with a fork. Also we finished the whole thing comfortably. 500g went down easy. Though we may have diabetes coming at us soon. We were dancing around the topic of travelling and me leaving but not really diving into it. I could tell she was getting upset at the thought of me leaving. It was nice. But finally, she let it out. “I’m envious. I’m envious of what you get to do. You get to travel you get to do whatever you want.” “You can too.” Was my response. Hers was to give one big sarcastic cackle. Then she said, “No. I can’t. I work my ass off just to get by. There’s no work in Serbia. There’s plenty of educated people like me doing shit jobs because there’s nothing by else. Nobody likes Serbia. We can’t go anywhere without a visa. Not even Montenegro. We can’t do anything we can’t pay for anything.” To be fair, she was in a bit of a negative mood. Casting everything into the shadow. In that moment, everything she has is shit and everything the rest of the world has is better. She didn’t mean everything she said, they were from the heat of the moment. But I still learnt from them. I’ve had to accept that I come from a very rich county while travelling through the Balkans. I never thought of myself as 'rich'. But, obviously, being from a rich country alone does not guarantee wealth. Just like being from a poor country does not guarantee poverty. Fortune favours the brave, where there’s a will there’s a way, and persistence erodes all barriers. It’s true that you can achieve almost anything with enough willpower. Travelling, making a better life for yourself, those two things fall smack bang in the middle of 'almost anything.’ There’s plenty of people from rich countries who would echo the same words as Danijela. Plenty from poor ones who would say the same as me. Because in the end, life is what you make it. But In that moment, we weren’t going to agree. We did agree on finishing the tub of ice cream (she wanted chocolate flavour and I wanted something fruity. She bought us mango vanilla something. It was delicious). Once our fattening work was complete we got back on the bikes and went home. Maja and Eva were waiting for us, we rested for a short while before heading out to an arcade. There we met Vesna and Ula. We just messed around for a few hours. Drank wine, played some darts and foosball. Just the usual you know, when hanging out with your friends. But the night had to end some time. I said goodbye to Vesna and Ula, gave Maja a big goodnightbye hug as I probably wouldn’t see her the next morning, then went to bed. In the morning I had a quick breakfast of bread, cheese and yogurt, packed my stuff, said goodbye to Danijela and left. I had an incredible time here. It was hard to leave the girls of Novi Sad.

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Anecdote - The Girls of Novi Sad - Part 6/8 Walking back home from our pancake party.

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Anecdote - The Girls of Novi Sad - Part 5/8

You know it's a good day when you’re in a stranger’s home, surrounded by five beautiful girls, eating pancakes and drinking shots. I was meant to leave Novi Sad today, but I didn’t feel like it. I wanted to stay. Danijela and Maja wanted me to stay too. So I did. Now look at me! I was with three Serbs, Danijela, Maja and Vesna. A Fin named Ula, and our host was a girl named Lydia. She was also a Serb, but with Polish roots, so she speaks Polish, Serbian and English. The best thing about staying an extra night was that I got to meet Maja. She’s taller than I thought she would be, but that was still pretty tiny. Hair cut neatly, finishing at the shoulders, big brown eyes framed by slightly oversized glasses, and her wide hips make her sort of passively sashay a little bit when she walks. Like a little duckling walking. We were sort of like excited puppies when we first saw each other. We knew we wanted to be best friends but weren’t really sure how to do it. So we smiled, shook hands and chit chatted. She’s very stoic and monotonous, but somehow emits a lot of personality. The girls were laughing at some of the drunken escapades they had in the past. One of the stories was of Maja. They were at the club, she was standing perfectly still, holding her beer against her chest, other arm flat by her side. Expressionless in the writhing dance floor, someone asked her if she’s ok, she just replied with, “I’m so fucked up.” She’s creative and confident and filled with that dry humour. I was almost a little nervous talking to her. She comes across as so clever that I wouldn’t even know if she was making fun of me. It was a fantastic, warm, family time. Danijela and Lydia were blasting Serbian folk pop. Under the guise of introducing me to the music of the country. Because everyone – including themselves – was commenting on how horrible the songs were, how lame the lyrics were, and how viciously diva the artists were. But after each song finished they had another lined up. They would know all the words to that song too and it would be played even louder than the last. It was nice watching them indulge in their guilty pleasure. Vesna and Ula were to my right. Only a metre away but I couldn’t hear them because the music was so loud. Maja was to my left. We were happily chittering away to each other. With routine interruptions from the dancing girls who would scream a particular lyric super loud or share some fun fact about the song currently being played. While Maja was telling me one of her stories, Danijela yelled at her, “Maja! Don’t tell him that!” To which Maja replied smiling, “Why? I feel like I can tell him anything.” It was the nicest thing I’d heard on my trip. You make friends all the time while travelling. Guarded small talk is always the prequel and if there’s a connection then you really start sharing yourself with this new person. It’s a great feeling. This person evolves from a stranger to companion to friend. If they’re really special then they start to feel like family, like you’ve known them for years. That was the feeling that was washing over me that night. While Lydia and Danijela were dancing, Vesna and Ula sitting to my right and I was chatting to Maja, I felt like I was with family.

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Anecdote - The Girls of Novi Sad - Part 4/8 One of our selfies while trudging around Novi Sad trying to get a taxi. Or something.

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Anecdote - The Girls of Novi Sad - Part 3/8

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Through clenched teeth, Danijela warns me to keep my big mouth shut. Safe to say I was fairly confused. Everything seemed to be going O.K only a moment ago? I was in a club, where I knew nobody but Danijela. She’s the door bitch of this place. So we weren’t going crazy inside the club, rather just talking shit at the front of it. It’s much too intimidating to try wrestle with all the new stimulation of partying in a new city by yourself. So even though I wanted to get into the thick of it, I chose not to. The music was foreign, the language not mine, and who knows how the pickup culture works here. No, it was all too hard. It was safer to stay here with her and just chat, while people slowly stream in one by one. One guy started to blatantly hit on me as he walked in. He was a skinny, tallish, non intimidating gay with a shaved head. It was nice that he was friendly, but obviously he was only being nice in order to fuck me. So I didn’t want to engage in conversation with him at all. I was thankful when he left. Danijela had two friends hanging out with her at the door too. One was a muscular bouncer wearing a black muscle Tee who also had a shaved head. He was clearly very fit and a little bit scary. He looks like the speed dealers that we have in Australia. The bouncers friend was a super hot blonde in a white dress. I tried talking to her once. But she either didn’t hear me or blanked me. It was shortly after that fail, that Danijela told me to shut the fuck up. Because I asked the bouncer guy for the 5th time what his name was and he didn’t hear. Evidently he did hear, and chose to ignore me. His name was to remain secret for whatever reason. Danijela had tried telling me to stop asking his name several times already but I didn't see. Her patience thin and her voice tinted with fear over my stupidity in harassing him over his name. As I was already stressed, this development freaked me out. I reasoned to myself the possible reasons his name shouldn’t be revealed to me. I concluded that his speed dealer looks indicated that he must indeed be a drug dealer. Possibly even a gangster that has murdered before. The fear of staying with a gangster in this now suddenly extraordinarily awkward environment far outweighed my fear of going alone into the jungle dance floor. So to the dance floor I went. And awkward I was. Cradling my half drunk beer against my chest as if it was a security blanket, I wandered through. Where do I stand? Can I stand here? I definitely can’t dance, the music isn’t working for me. Should I stand there against the wall? I don’t want to be in anyone’s way but if I’m so far away there’s no way for me to start interacting with anybody. Should I just go up to someone and talk? Talk to some cute girls maybe? I like cute girls. But there’s no way I can talk to them now I’m so strung up. I will come across as a needy creep, freaking them out. My mind is strangled of it’s charm I can’t do anything. I can’t even just stand without feeling fucked. So this went for maybe a minute. My inner monologue chittering away absolute nonsense, paralysing me, rendering me completely incapable of doing literally anything. But, this wide-eyed, embarrassing fear was not in vain. The guy that tried flirting with me at the door saw me wandering and alone. He tapped me on the shoulder and motioned me to join him and his friends. I knew he was doing this because he wanted to fuck me, but I still appreciated his kindness. It was nice being part of a pack. I wasn’t in the right headspace to wander alone. We talked nonsense while bopping a little bit. He asked me if I like the music. I said no, I prefer dancing to RnB. He told me there’s a club we can go to that plays that music. He can take me there if I wanted to. If he pressed me I probably would have agreed, which wouldn’t have been smart as I’d be leaving Danijela. The one true friend here that I actually trust. I couldn’t stop staring at two girls dancing near us. They were all over each other and it was hot as fuck. Observing me observing them, my new companion said there’s no such thing as a lesbian, because deep down, “Everyone loves cock.” The standard sort of night time shenanigans went on for a while. Fortunately I ran out of money and couldn’t buy more drinks. Only five today. One with Danijela and Alex for 'supper', two with Alex and Renata earlier at the Serbian open punk concert. That was free and very fun. Live music is always good and the Serbs love flares. They can be trusted with them though. If an Australian lights a flare in a crowd everyone literally loses their fucking minds. As if it’s our first time seeing fire. Possessed by a fervour from our new firegod, we start screaming, yelling, cheering. De-evolving into the mankind of 10,000 years ago. Just in nicer clothes and recording the whole thing on our smartphones. Anyway, I also had two beers in the club, which made five. So I had a good buzz, but I wasn’t getting sloppy or silly, also a calling card of drunk Australians. It starts approaching 3am and the club starts winding down. While trying to pick up a girl she invites me to the after party in her house. I was excited by the prospect and wanted to go. But Danijela wasn’t keen on the idea. Also I don’t think I had a chance with the girl. She was just excited that I was a foreigner and wanted to hang out. Also she was drunk, probably forgot that she invited me minutes later. We dance a bit more but fatigue starts to take over. It’s time to go home. Danijela rounds up me and another one of her friends and we wander out. Her friend is very drunk and very funny. He is Serbian but speaks with a German accent. He even looks German. We drunkenly discuss this for the entire walk and also take a few selfies to remember the night we won’t remember. Danijela uses this opportunity to reveal to me why I should not have asked for the bouncer’s name. After berating me for asking so many times and questioning why I had to know his name (“I don’t know,” was my response), she told me why I should have stopped asking. “’He’ was not a ‘he’,” she said. “’He’” is a ‘she’ who is becoming a 'he’. So the topic of his name is a touchy subject that you should have obviously not pressed. Especially after he ignored you the first five times you asked.” I simultaneously thought, 'Fuck me didn’t expect that.’ And, 'I didn’t think he ignored me, I thought he didn’t hear because of the language barrier.’ And, 'How the fuck was I supposed to know THAT was the reason he didn’t want to say his name??' And, “I thought he was a murderous drug dealer.’

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Anecdote - The Girls of Novi Sad - Part 2/8 Sitting on a park bench with Danijela, Alex and Renata. It was about 3am, we were just drinking and talking shit.

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Anecdote - The Girls of Novi Sad - Part 1/8

Dedicated to Maja and Danijela. June 2017 I don’t know why I’m going to say what I'm about to say. There’s only one girl at the shop. It’s obviously the one I’m looking for. I was sitting on my backpack outside the store waiting for 3:30 to hit (that’s when her shift started) but she must have arrived earlier. I didn’t catch her as she walked in to start her shift. I stand up and walk over into the boutique. I leave my backpack outside, it’s heavy and we’re inside a shopping centre so it will be ok. As I enter I notice that there are a couple more girls working. But from the way this one looked at me earlier it must be Danijela. There’s only a couple customers in the store who are just browsing, so it’s a good time to interrupt. She looks at me as I’m walking over to her. “Hello,” I say, communicating that I am an English speaker. Everywhere I go people think I speak the language. “Hello,” replies the girl I am convinced is Danijela. She’s skinny in all black clothes. Has a bob haircut and a pleasant face. This next thing sounds so stupid but I say it anyway, “I’m looking for Danijela.” The girl looks a little surprised for a split second, then abruptly yells over her shoulder to the store room behind, “Danijela!!” I am taken aback by the sudden energy, but try not to show it. I’m always a bit on edge when I enter a new city. Everything is strange and confusing. I’m an alien that doesn’t know the language, streets, stores, currency, landmarks, anything. I don’t even know where I am sleeping. Normally I stand there in a daze, mesmerised by the new world I’ve put myself into. Meanwhile, everyone else around me trudges on without thought, in their completely familiar lives. I turnaround and take a few steps away from the counter. When I face it again I am greeted by a smiling Danijela. She strides towards me. Long brown hair in a pony tail, big boobs, tall for a girl, also in all black. Her heart shaped face balanced with high cheekbones and a pinched chin. Her brown eyes are looking at me warmly. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking even though she seems so expressive. It appeared to be a mix of excitement, nerves and intrigue. Which would make sense, she is welcoming me, a complete stranger from the internet, into her home for the next 2 nights. That’s not even totally true, her housemate – Maja – agreed to host me. But since Maja is out of town, Danijela is going to do it. The two of them live alone nearby. I can’t remember exactly what we said to each other at this point. There was a bit of chit chat. She gave me some directions to the house. Described the front door to her building as, “Very plain,” and told me that she’ll be home around 10:30. Then gave me the keys to her home and I was on my way. I lug my big backpack and exit the centre. It’s super warm outside so I walk slowly. I don’t want to be an utterly drenched, sweaty mess of a foreigner. The city is quiet busy. Buzzing but not crowded. Nice bike paths line most main roads so a healthy collection of pedestrians, cyclists and cars are streaming around. My first impression of Novi Sad is that I like it. I follow Danijela's directions past the gas station, past the construction site and turn left. Supported by GPS on my phone I found the address. It indeed was a plain looking door. Next to it is a buzzer for each of the apartments, next to each buzzer is a surname. For apartment 4 I see what I am very sure is Maja’s surname. I must be in the right spot. Victory number one. I reach into my pocket and pull out the keys. I try one on the door. Without any fiddling or jiggling, it smoothly clicked open. Victory number two. If I’m in the building then I must be in a pretty excellent position to get into the apartment too. I walk in, turn a couple corners and search for apartment 4. I ascend the first flight of stairs and there it is. A glorious prize at the end of a pilgrimage, practically glowing at the edges. Maja's surname is on a badge on the door too. I try the second key and this also works beautifully. I enter the apartment. Nobody home but me. I can tell that it was cleaned vigorously. The floors are spotless, the kitchen shining, a nice patio with a little outdoor set and pot plants with growing herbs. A delightful array of knick knacks are dotted everywhere. Quirky clocks, vintage shelves, a blackboard in the kitchen with homely illustrations. One of them is of a unicorn that is apologising to Maja for farting. I’ve been told that Maja’s room is next to the bathroom. After finding the bathroom, I see that there is only one room next to it, so I open the door to my bed for the next two nights. It’s a huge room, twice the size of what I had back in Melbourne. A queen bed facing a TV. Large window looking out to a park outside where a dozen kids are running around playing. A shag rug is adjacent to the bed, by the way the fibres are aligned it has obviously just been vacuumed. There’s a red feature wall, with empty, antique, golden picture frames. Topping it all off, there are fresh sheets and even a towel, neatly folded in the corner of the bed, waiting for me. My mind is melting. All this has been done for me. Maja has let me sleep me in her bed. The house has been cleaned. Bed sheets and a towel left out for me. Danijela told me to help myself to any food. I have keys to their home. Nobody is here but me. Since when was there this sort of trust and beauty still in the world? I am completely overwhelmed by their kindness. I lay out the sheets on the bed and have a lie down. Sinking into the kindness that these beautiful girls bestowed on me.

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People that challenge your beliefs help you find out what they are. You want those people in your life.

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Fucking with feeling. That's love.

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Life's simpler clean, without the dirty pleasures

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Breathing in each others exhales, lovers so close, chasing smoke tails.

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Anecdote - Belief and Prizren - Part 10/10

The second morning I was leaving Prizren. After breakfast I got my stuff together and we were off. He took me to a bazaar and helped me buy fruit. Then we went to an incredible bakery to buy bread. We were chit chatting a bit, but for the most part we were walking in silence. I was so deep in my own thoughts and I didn’t even realise that our friendship had gently fallen into a comfortable silence that you can only share with so few people in your life. I’d known the guy less than 48 hours. He asked me, “What are you thinking?” I was shocked from my reverie, only now realising that I was silent. I can’t remember what I said, probably something non-sensical. But I do remember realising that it takes two people to be silent in each other's company. So I asked him, “What were you thinking?” He lets out a small laugh and says, “Not really sure.” ‘O.k...’ I think. Whatever that means. We keep walking in silence. After a few moments he found his words. While I’m hiking with my backpack, past the street vendors towards the place he was going to leave me, he cycled next to me to say, “I’m very glad to have met you.” Just like my appreciation to him 2 days before hit him in the gut, this time he got me. He took me into his home, fed me, introduced me to some amazing people, amazing ideas and gave up his time and energy for me. Plus we have different values. It felt incredible that even with all that he could see through to my character. And that the person he saw in me was someone he was thankful to meet. We walked a bit further. Hugged goodbye, took a selfie and he left to return home. It was sad to part ways. Prizren, through Arber, taught me that sometimes it’s a beautiful world. With mutual respect, gratitude and appreciation, it shows itself more often. May 2017

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Anecdote - Belief and Prizren - Part 9/10

On the first night I asked him, “so why do you host people?” He replied instantly, “To help people.” “Ah ok,” I say, “and how long have you been doing it for?” He looked at me and smiled, “Couchsurfing? A few months. But hosting travellers in my home? About 5 years.” Turns out if Arber saw a traveller in the street, he would ask them if they needed a place to stay. If they did, he would take them into his home. Feed them, shelter them. It started when Arber was 20, a Polish traveller approached him and told him he had no money, no food and no place to sleep. So just like that, Arber took him in. I tell Arber that in itself that’s an amazing story. It’s even more incredible that the experience was so fulfilling that he chose to do it again and again. Now it was my turn to receive the generosity that he happily shares around. I feel lucky, so I thank him for agreeing to host me. I could see straight away how deeply my appreciation hit him. He was practically stunned, he was quiet for a moment. He said that he helps people because he wants to help, but it always means a lot when somebody expresses gratitude. Also on this night, Dario and I slept on the beds in his room, while he slept on the floor. No matter how much we protested he wouldn’t let us sleep on the floor. He wanted us to have the beds. That among other things he did showed me that he truly is a selfless man. To finish off my story of him, I’ll tell you how we said goodbye.

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Anecdote - Belief and Prizren - Part 8/10 The inside of the Mosque where Arber prayed

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Anecdote - Belief and Prizren - Part 7/10

“Do you believe in God?” Arber asks me. I’m a bit stressed. I’m in a Mosque. His Mosque. I just watched him pray. He’s very religious. I don’t want to offend him. But I don’t want to lie. I also don’t want to be kicked out of his home and sleep under a bridge tonight. In fact, not only had I watched him pray twice that day, after the second one he invited me to join him to pray. I declined. Then he reworded his offer, “How about yoga? Would you like to do some yoga with me?” Muslim praying has some yoga like qualities. Standing perfectly straight, bending 90 degrees at the waist, kneeling, and bowing with your forehead on the ground. You do this while standing shoulder to shoulder with your brothers. Other believers. I accepted his offer for yoga. I was happy to go through the motions, but I wasn’t going to pray. Basically we walked near the front of the mosque, and I followed his lead. We did it relatively quickly. But shoulder to shoulder, I stood, bowed, knelt and bowed deeply right along Arber the entire time. It’s meditative for sure. I could feel the holiness of the what we are doing. Arber believes so strongly in the practice, the energy was pouring from him. The Mosque itself too. It’s simple but beautiful (simple by Catholic church standards anyway). It’s a place designed for prayer. For worship. For believing in something. For a community to unite together and grow. That is one of the beautiful things about religion. It unites people to a common belief. In Islam you are supposed to congregate 5 times a day, only for 10 minutes or so. But you are connected to your community nonetheless. How can you feel alone when you have religion? A community, a set of beliefs, a set of values to live by. It brings people together and it gives their life the thing that we are all searching for. Purpose. Meaning. What are we here for? Just believe in this faith, we have all of the answers for you. Just believe in our faith. That was running through my head when Arber asked me this. He had finished praying and I had finished my yoga beside him. We were side by side, we did it together, but we were not united in our beliefs. As soon as we finished, he turned from facing forward on his knees to rolling onto his butt and resting his back against some sort of lectern type thing. It was the first thing he asked me. Not, 'How do you feel?' or 'feel stretched out?' or something non-sensical, casual like that. Perhaps he was filled with some religious fervour after praying. He just turned to me and said those words. “Do you believe in God?” I already knew what I believed. But I didn’t want to offend him. We were in his holy place, his home city, his territory and I was sleeping in his home tonight. Plus at this point I unfortunately had the attitude towards Muslims that the media had fed me. I.e extremism. I didn’t feel the same as I would had I just watched Catholics pray. When in reality what I had witnessed was indeed the same. It was just people believing and worshipping something. Nevertheless, I worded my reply as I had to people in the past already. Even if this time it came out a little bit more hesitantly and nervously. “I do believe that there is something bigger out there. That this can’t be it.” Arber nods at me while I’m speaking, “But, I don’t believe in the institution of Religion.” “What do you mean?” he asks. The words come out slowly, I don’t want to offend him. “It means I believe in my own way. I believe in doing good things, treating others the way you want to be treated. But all this,” I gesture to the mosque, all the space we are in, “I don’t subscribe to. Catholicism, Christianity, Islam, Judaism all of it. I don’t believe in the institution.” If I had some self awareness at this point I would realise that I had failed my attempt to not offend by not saying anything too strong. I had just dismissed all religion. An extremist believer might find this a little bit offensive. But Arber was perfectly relaxed. Even if I was a little bit on edge. From this start, we dove into deep religious and philosophical discussion. Arber told me that one of the beliefs of Islam is that every man has the right to choose whether or not he wants to believe. It’s a right to choose. I was exercising my right by not believing. This is still partly an issue though. What happens if it is in a religion that non-believers are not permitted? That you must convert non-believers. That it is your duty. Because some people do believe that, across all religions. Fortunately, for us it was not an issue. We were able to move onto other topics. “What do you think about homosexuality?” He asked. “I think it’s alright.” “What about if everyone in the world was homosexual? What would that mean to humans?” “Well, that’s not the world we live in. We live in a world where some people are gay, and some people are not.” We talked about many things, and that was essentially his contention for most arguments because that is what Islam teaches. To conclude whether something is good or bad, ask yourself what would happen if all of humanity did it. What would happen if everyone got divorced? What would happen if everyone drank? What would happen if everyone had sex before marriage? What would happen if everyone had an abortion? In the western world, most people do all that and more. They might find this logic offensive to the way it disapproves of their lifestyle. But there’s a flip side to this logic too. It also clearly outlines to Muslims what they should be doing. What would happen if everyone helped their neighbours? (Once a year, wealthy muslims are expected to donate 2.5% of their on hand cash to the poor.) What would happen if everyone respected each other? What would happen to a community if everyone met on the daily to pray to their god? From all these things and more, the answer is you’d build a strong community, loving families and moral individuals. On a very basic level at least anyway, there are obviously some complex issues where the right path isn’t as clear (gender equality for example). We talked for almost 2 hours in that mosque. I can’t describe how truly amazing this conversation was. It was simply two people, putting forth their ideas. Not trying to convince the other to agree. Just simply expressing our beliefs. For me it meant even more. Because I don’t have a book that guides as to what is right or wrong. I choose to live without a mosque or church, so I must find grounding for my beliefs. Which I still have not completely found yet. For that reason I found our talk incredibly enriching, enlightening and respectful. A defining moment of my life where I learnt how to stand by my beliefs, while being open to new ideas from which I can grow and learn from. And I almost didn’t stop by this city in Kosovo. Even though this is a good place to leave this story, there are a few things I want to write about Arber.

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Anecdote - Belief and Prizren - Part 6/10 The View of the city from the Ruined Castle.