I can’t emphasize enough how different these countries are. Macedonia feels like an extension of Turkey. You see it as soon as you walk around Skopje – the people here have square heads. You can see the square heads in the photos I took in the souk. There is a strong Muslim feel to the place.

I spent hours wandering the souk taking photos. The men loved having their pictures taken. They hammed it up and shouted for me to shoot them. But when I pointed the lens at a woman she would immediately cover up and demand money, even the old women. I got some good photos in Skope but it’s not a place to visit.

I stayed at the rip-off Holiday Inn, which costs $130 per night! This is as much as the average Macedonian makes in a month. For breakfast, I had Tang to drink, and I poured Tang on my muesli to make a semblance of a breakfast.

I went early to the souk to take photos and the old shoe-shine guy had just gotten his kit set up. He beckoned me over, insisting that I bring my Teva sandals to him because he wanted to show me something (or so he said in sign language). So I made the mistake of putting my sandal up on his shoe holder. My sandals are made of suede (probably fake suede). The ond man takes out a piece of sandpaper and starts sanding away at the straps of my sandals! Not only is he sanding the straps, he’s sanding the stitches, so now my sandals are going to self-destruct in a week! Then he showed me his work and told me to compare it to the other sandal. I couldn’t tell any difference. But now I had to let him sand the other one so they would both break down at the same time later. He asked for the equivalent of $2, and I protested. We settled on 40 cents.

Five bus hours later, I was in Ohrid, a lovely medieval town on a beautiful lake. The lake used to have wonderful fish in it until the locals ate them all, so now they bring fish in from other places. It was here that I met Petrit, a man who knows my doorman, Tommy, back in New York.

Finally, my new ATM card arrived in the mail today.

I swear, nothing feels more like freedom than inserting that little piece of plastic into a machine anywhere in the world and having it spit out crisp bills in the local currency. Especially when you know what it’s like to live without it.

Two weeks ago, I was robbed blind while naively nibbling strawberries in a sunny Barcelona park. Not only did I lose all my credit cards and driver’s license, the thug made off with 250 freshly withdrawn euros and a decent digital camera with 400 yet-to-be-downloaded vacation photos.

Thinking back to the moment when it must have happened, I realize – just like everyone in Barcelona tells you – that the thieves were professionals. They distracted me with a technique that was pretty much like taking candy from a baby.

My purse was literally right beside me (I know, I know – I should have had it looped through my arm, or at least secured in my lap). I recall the whiff of an illegal substance on the air, followed by a
commotion in a nearby fountain made by a mangy German shepherd being led through the foul water by its equally mangy owner. Followed by the wide-eyed foreigner thinking, “Gross, who would let their dog swim in that fountain?”

Then that same foreigner thinking, “Dios mio – where’s my purse?”

When I called home with my sob story, my dad reminded me that, with all my travels, it was inevitable that it would eventually happen.

Still, it’s a big hit to take when you’re supposed to be having fun, and I couldn’t help but sulk around for a while, marinating on how quickly travel highs can turn into travel lows.

Then back into travel highs.

My Spanish friend, Sonia, had just the remedy – a party that started at 9PM and wouldn’t wind down until nine hours later, in typical Barcelona fashion.

Amazing how Rioja and tapas took the edge right off. Barcelona, needless to say, was forgiven.

- by Terry Ward