Can you sit there, in the next row? I am here with my family.
With those words, a Reese Witherspoon wannabe lookalike asks me to make room for her as she takes off her Chanel shades and boards a minibus travelling from Prishtina to Skopje. She is followed by three younger versions of the Hollywood actress, a fancy mother and slightly neglected father.
Sure, I say, thinking that it would anyway make more sense to take an aisle seat and have a bit more space.
My new neighbour, seen off earlier by two KFOR soldiers who carried his large plastic case is now busy talking enthusiastically and emotionally on the phone. It’s not all that hard to guess his nationality. Tranquillo, tranquillo! Va bene. Ciao! He finishes his call as I sit down next to him.