I am in a less-awful-than-I-remember room of the Hotel Grand, Pristina. Landed in Skopje, Macedonia, and hitched a ride from the OSCE (Organization of Security and Cooperation in Europe–which staffs the 1100-strong monitoring force) with a Swede and an Austrian who were careful to talk about nothing except skiing with me in the car. So I did not get to see Macedonia at all except through the car window–a poor country.

Two rolls of film given to otherwise friendly Serb border police; first sight of Kosovo again: right beyond the border a huge rusting industrial complex completely abandoned in the gray afternoon Balkan fog, huge pieces of metal machinery hanging at odd angles, a total wreck. Welcome back, Alan! (WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE AGAIN?!?)

Pulled into Pristina, with these negotiations there is a press buildup, or, reunion. Must devote today to finding place to stay, getting accreditation, etc. There is a new internet node in town which will make email and filing almost free. A series of bombings of cafes and restaurants has finally brought the war to Pristina. Almost everything closes by eight or nine now. An inch of snow on the ground, cold but not freezing…