Migration is more than a One-Way Journey
My new barber Burak was one of the first people I met in when I moved back to Skopje in April. When I sat in his chair, he greeted me warmly in English. As I explained my Macedonian connection and clarified that I was not here as a tourist, he spoke openly and shared his own migration story. Not yet 30 years old, he first moved from his village in southern Macedonia to Denmark, where he lived and worked for five years before migrating back to his home country, resettling in the capital city. He understands now that the economic opportunity of migration carries a cultural price. He had decided that he prefers the more relaxed way of working and the warmer social climate that southern Europeans prioritize.
As he fades the hair on the side of my head, we speak in English. At times, he stops to answer his phone in Macedonian, before exchanging a few sentences in Albanian with colleagues or other clients. I listen with admiration as he slides fluidly between such different languages. When his attention shifts back to me, he asks me about my own migrations, my thoughts on the culture here compared to Canada and Argentina, from where I had just arrived. We reflect on the feeling and discomfort that can accompany living outside one’s cultural home and comfort zone. We talk about how those feelings shift over time. I now take comfort being in Macedonia, which I consider my second home. I’ve spent three-and-a-half years of my life here, and my marriage to a Macedonian man has helped ensure that my connections to the country have not faded during the 12 years since we left together for Canada.
Before Igor and I left Macedonia together in 2013, we lived on “Paris Street.”
Given global events, Canada’s shifting immigration policies, and my own nomadism, return migration has been on my mind and heart for many months. I thus listened carefully to Burak’s story of return, just as my ears perk up when I hear of other Macedonians returning after years of studying or working in North America, across Europe, or in the Middle East. For many, the idealistic veneer of the West has been tarnished, at the same time as the development in the Balkans has accelerated.
After 12 years of living away, it’s impossible not to remark Skopje’s shiny new shopping malls with international brands that, a decade ago, could be accessed only via an international shopping trip to Bulgaria or Greece. Even so, the trips to nearby cities—by car or by train—are becoming easier, as transportation infrastructure in the Balkans has accelerated alongside salaries. In Skopje, the average salary is double what it was a decade ago, and the drive to Tirana now takes four hours instead of seven.
Driving between Macedonia and Albania provides exceptional opportunities for mountain views and exceptional eating experiences that can leave you ready for a post-lunch nap.
Despite what appears to my “but you don’t live here” eyes as significant improvements to the standard of living, the emigration conversations continue because the political situation has not seen similar improvements. As the United States is learning, poor governance is a strong motivating factor for migration. One evening, I met with my former colleague, a college counsellor who assists high school students with their international education pursuits. The outbound vision of youth is backed up by statistics: Macedonia has lost 10% of its population between two censuses. Many of the departed are healthcare workers going to Germany and elsewhere, creating conversations about the country’s understaffed healthcare system familiar to those we have in Canada.
Given the number of citizens departing, one would expect an emptier city and a glut of available real estate. But while everyone understands that many of the newly built investment properties lie vacant, every speaker’s voice reveals astonishment in that property costs have tripled since the pandemic and that an apartment is increasingly out of reach for youth and the middle class. That fact hits extra hard in a country where property ownership was close to 90% in the final years of Yugoslavia.
Like elsewhere in the world, many of these apartments are rented to temporary residents. Macedonia is currently seeing a surge of international businesspeople and students from Turkey, for example. Turkish Airlines flies two 300-seater planes directly from Istanbul each day. New temporary residents need places to stay, as do tourists and digital nomads like me. Hotels and apartments are valuable as the region is experiencing a tourism boom, giving rise to new economic opportunities for those who stay. We’ve learned as much by speaking to a former student who has renovated two apartments and now manages multiple AirBnB properties as his full-time job.
No trip to Macedonia is complete without a visit to Ohrid. Igor and I hadn’t visited since 2011, so we relished the opportunity to spend a few days working by the lake alongside many other digital nomads.
Another migration story is about the shortage of workers, driven in part from major infrastructure development projects and the high rate of international investment in manufacturing. The government regularly discusses increases to the quota of temporary foreign workers, and the arrival of these workers is now visible in the tourism and hospitality sector. In Skopje, we’ve encountered these workers, finding ourselves surprised when staff aren’t able to take a coffee order in any of the local languages, providing service in English instead. On a recent trip to Ohrid, the country’s tourism jewel, we were seated in a restaurant next to a tour group from the Philippines. I remarked that Macedonia now attracts both tourists and foreign workers from the country. Later, when chatting with the owner of a spectacular new wine bar nearby, we hear about Nepalese workers in the community and the success of a new Indian restaurant down the street, the only one in the country.
Peppers are a staple of Macedonia’s exceptional cuisine, which combines tastes from the Mediterranean, central Europe, Italy, and the Ottoman Empire.
Layered on top of these migration conversations is the one of EU accession. Whether in Albania, Serbia, or Macedonia, it is a decades-old conversation that has reached the point of exhaustion. Questions of “when” have shifted to “should we” or “do we even want to.” Support for EU accession is polling at a historic low.
Poppies brighten meadows and street sides in the spring. They also appear on one of the country’s bank notes.
And as I speak to friends and strangers about what the future holds for this country, I constantly reflect on my relationship with it—past, present, and future. I speak to my husband about how good it is for our souls to be back here, even if just for three months this year with plans for another three next year.
We also have questions of “when,” “should we” and “do we even want to.” As we try to re-make a place for ourselves in this country we are trying to re-learn, we have to figure out what that would even look like. For now, what we do know is that, 12 years after we left Skopje together to go to Toronto, migration should not be viewed as a one-way journey.
