Pushing my skis forward in tracks carved deep into the snow and a swirling wind and thick fog, I finally reach a vast plateau where Alb Berisha, our guide, greets me with a high-five. “Welcome to Kosovo,” he says, beaming. I put on more layers to fight the chill, and nibble on a pita (a Balkan cream cheese-stuffed pastry) left over from breakfast, before swinging my arms around to keep warm.
Hold on … Weren’t we in Albania a moment ago?
