Discover the Untold Stories of Europe's Youngest Country

From bustling co-working spaces in Prishtina to the snow-covered streets of Peja, Kosovo invites you to slow down, sip your coffee, and connect with its resilient people. Dive into heartfelt conversations about identity, tradition, and progress, all while indulging in mouthwatering local delights. Where else can you witness a mosque's call to prayer alongside rainbow-lit church towers?

Kosovo is more than a destination—it's a story of perseverance, hope, and the quest for belonging. Ready to uncover it?

Going to a trendy café on a Friday afternoon without a reservation was the best decision I made on this trip. Instead of turning me away because the café was already bursting at the seams, I was directed to the co-working space. A huge green wooden table surrounded by bookshelves and equipped with power outlets on the workspace, where young people were deeply immersed in their books or video calls. No reservation is needed to sit here. I struck up a conversation with two young women and received patient answers to all my beginner questions, laying the foundation for the next days of my journey. Welcome to Kosovo.

The café, which is so popular in the capital city Prishtina, is called Soma Book Station. The entrance sign adorned with fairy lights reads “Bar/Lounge.” This is quite typical for Kosovo. The word “café” is rarely used because cocktails are available almost everywhere. Kosovo is the youngest country in Europe. It declared its independence in 2008, and to this day, it is not recognized as a country by all nations, including Honduras, Spain, and Ecuador. This means that everyone over the age of 17 has experienced the transition from Serbian-occupied territories to the independent Republic of Kosovo firsthand.

My conversation partners confirmed: “There isn’t a family in Kosovo that hasn’t lost someone because of the war. The stories from our parents are deeply ingrained.” They also said that while independence is extremely important to them, it hasn’t resolved the conflict. Today, some Serbs still live in Kosovo, and from time to time, there are outbreaks of violence. Mitrovica, in particular, is affected. It is near the border with Serbia (which still claims Kosovo as part of its territory), making the atmosphere there particularly tense. Talking about “politics” within five minutes of meeting someone is unusual for me, so I asked: “Is it okay for you to talk about this?” The women laughed. “Of course,” they said. “The war is still so present. It’s processed everywhere – in music, theater, and films. We talk about it all the time.” This gave me confidence for my journey, knowing I could ask questions to whomever I met.

In Prizren, on top of the citadel, I got into a conversation with a group of girls who live in Kiel, Germany, but had returned “home” for Christmas. “Do you feel this is home in your heart?” I asked. They replied, “In Germany, we are too Albanian, and in Kosovo, we are too German. We don’t know where to place ourselves. That’s why we mostly have Albanian friends in Germany – they understand this feeling.”

At my next stop in Gjakova, the main activity was: drinking coffee. As is often the case in Kosovo. People defy the cold – café owners place cushions on the outdoor chairs as early as 8 a.m. Will anyone show up, I wondered? But shortly after, the small pedestrian zone was bustling, and I had to hurry to grab a good spot for my daily observations :) I met a Canadian traveler and, through her, a local resident. As usual, the topic of “politics” opened the conversation before we moved on to “travel” and “Germany.” For a while, I had wanted to ask, and now it felt appropriate: “Do you have Serbian friends?” The answer moved me: “They are not to blame. The current generation was born into the war. It’s socially hard for the older generation to accept. But yes, I have a few Serbian friends. However, we never talk about politics.”

Even in Peja, the cold and snow didn’t deter the locals. Outdoor areas of the cafés were packed. In the city center, live concerts were being performed, and as in every town, the decision was tough: traditional food? Or maybe a protein bowl? Warm börek from the bakery? Or delicious cakes from the local pastry shops?

The prices in Kosovo invite indulgence, and the vibes encourage lingering. Coffee-to-go is uncommon. No rush, no stress, no hustle. In Kosovo, it’s about savoring the moment, strengthening social connections, and celebrating freedom.

But this doesn’t come without a price. The women at Soma Book Station described how they perceive the struggles of their young country after independence: “We are caught between tradition and Europe. Between being independent and wanting to belong. And this leads to overcompensation on both sides.” By this, they mean religious groups forming in particularly conservative ways on one hand. On the other, they see “over-identification with Europe.” This is evident, they explained, in the ultra-short skirts, deep necklines, and endless parties – all taken to extremes beyond the European average. “Europe is our chance.” In a geographical region that doesn’t want Kosovo to be independent, the small country takes every effort to join the EU. For example, it is peacefully accepted that people drink their beer at the Christmas market while the mosque is calling for prayer, and that the church tower in the old town lights up in rainbow colors during June-Pride-Month.