"Good day" I said, trying to hide in my voice that natural caution you have when you first come to a place where nobody knows you.

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"Dita e mirë" the host replied calmly, with a slight nod of his head. "How was your journey?" he asked in broken Serbian.

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We replied that we had somehow managed and that we were glad we had arrived on time. We looked at the unfamiliar faces, and they at us, trying to make a good impression in those few seconds of uncertain silence.

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"Leave the car here and come with me" he said curtly.

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We looked at each other, grabbed the laptop and the bag packed with our thoughts, uncertainty, and some tools, took a breath, and got into his dusty car. And so, now a decade removed from those difficult times, in a place where until recently the borders were drawn by trenches, our first journey to Kosovo began. Ten years later, we are driving on a road that smells of fresh asphalt with a white stone curb, surrounded by a manicured lawn and flowers. In the center is a mushroom-shaped vacation cottage with a red cap and white polka dots. The host is waiting for us at a ceremony for the opening of the new facility and introduces us to guests and representatives of the European Union, who donated the funds for his third mushroom factory.

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"These are my friends" he introduces us, his joy evident, and he names us.