When Ljubica Angelkova, a renowned Macedonian journalist, invited me for an interview in the midst of pandemic, I couldn’t have imagined that it would mark the beginning of a new chapter. In the answers I gave a few years ago, I can now see the seeds of something that had been growing and maturing within me. This ultimately led me not only to launch new projects but also to experience incredibly valuable encounters, connections, and continuous learning.
Yes, “that Polish blogger” has been popping up quite a lot for Macedonian readers, with interviews appearing on various portals and in newspapers. The interview below, however, holds special significance for me.
If you’d like to learn who I am, what I do in Macedonia, and what to expect both during trips with me and on my social media – here you are.
What is the tourism potential I see in Macedonia? What can we learn from it, and how can tourism be used for education and entrepreneurship?
This interview was conducted by Ljubica Angelkova.
What were your first connections with Macedonia?
Inherited ones! I am the great-great-granddaughter of Justinian the Great, who was born in Tauresium near Skopje…
Just kidding. When I first came here, I knew absolutely nothing about Macedonia. I started searching and discovered fascinating facts. Step by step, I uncovered the beauty and complexity of this cultural, religious, and even semantic mosaic. I couldn’t get enough.
I remember my first Macedonian language lesson. My teacher, Zvonko Dimovski, was exceptional—someone who deserves a medal for promoting Macedonia among Polish students. I am neither the first nor the last person to have come to Macedonia because of him.
After our first lecture, I left the classroom, grabbed my phone, and called my mom: “Mom, this language sounds ab-so-lu-tely incredible!”
When did you first visit Macedonia?
Right after completing my bachelor’s degree, my parents let me plan a family vacation. My dad and I are wanderers, but my mom and brother like spending time on the beach. We chose Albania. It was 2015, just before Albania became one of the most popular destinations for Polish tourists. At that time, it wasn’t widely known. We drove there, planning a stopover in Skopje before heading to Vlorë.
We arrived in Skopje early, ready to explore, but… we got completely lost. The address of our apartment was incorrect, and no one could help us find it. Our host wasn’t answering the phone. By the time we finally got the keys, it was late evening. Still, we wanted to experience a bit of the country.
We didn’t have a map or guidebook—nothing. Hungry, we decided to walk in the first direction that caught our eye and stop at the first open restaurant. We passed the Old Railway Station, missed the main Macedonia Street somehow, and ended up by the Old Post Office. We kept walking, but everything was closed! We gave up at the Stone Bridge, unaware that the Old Bazaar, filled with restaurants, was just a few steps away.
The next day, we made a stop in Ohrid. My parents and brother settled down for coffee, kindly giving me half an hour for a quick exploration. I clearly remember my route: the port, the Robevi family house, the Church of Haghia Sophia, the Church of St. Barbara… that was all. But it was enough for me to know that I would return.
Before crossing into Albania, I decided that upon returning home, I would enroll in a master’s program in Balkan studies. And that’s exactly what I did.
Last summer, despite the pandemic, you managed to take several groups to Macedonia. How did you make that happen?
It’s a complex story—how much time do we have?
In short, I started working as a guide in Albania in 2016, organizing trips to Ohrid and Kosovo. That same year, I began researching how tourism could help resolve conflicts in Macedonia. I became interested in the sociology and anthropology of travel and the potential of tourism to promote diversity, inclusivity, equality, and anti-racism. That’s also when I launched my blog about Macedonia, which has since become the foundation of my business.
In 2020, after months of worry and doubt, I decided to leave mass tourism behind. Too many practices—both in language use and guiding styles—clashed with my values. I registered my business in January 2020. In February, I gave two talks to students about how the stories we tell through tourism shape how we see others—and how tourism can either build bridges or create divides. I had many more lectures planned, but then the pandemic struck.
I had to find a way to guide during the lockdown, so… I focused on my social media. I organized a weekly Macedonian news digest, hosted an Easter live between Ohrid (Macedonia) and Poznań (Poland), and arranged two virtual tours of Ohrid. My blog and Facebook page had already gained significant recognition, but these efforts allowed me to firmly establish myself as a unique expert in a niche field that few others explore.
I wasn’t expecting anything, but I missed Macedonia deeply and still believed I could channel that longing and my extensive knowledge into something meaningful in the future. I also wanted to promote this country—and the people I had come to love.
In the summer 2021, I was invited to participate in a EU-funded cross-border project – in Macedonia and Albania. Those were incredibly intense days. I worked from dawn until 2 a.m., meeting dozens of people, writing articles, and posting on Facebook, Instagram, and my blog. I had the chance to meet amazing people with inspiring ideas and perspectives. Before returning to Poland, I suggested to the project coordinators that I could try organizing a trip for Polish travelers as part of the project. I posted about it on my social media… and within four days, I had a group ready to go.
What was incredible was the trust— every participant from each side – traveller and host — entrusted me with the organization and coordination of the entire trip almost unconditionally.
How do you view Macedonia from the perspective of tourism, and what is our market like?
First and foremost, I see tourism as a journey, not a destination. I’ve already laid the foundations and built the walls for my small idea, but I’m still decorating the interior. I believe it will grow bigger and better with time.
I believe tourism can be a tool for building peace, fostering understanding, and promoting education about anti-racism, diversity, inclusivity, and equality. I’m learning to step back and remain silent so others have the space to tell their stories, to share their truths. I don’t want “responsible tourism” that confines people in cages labeled “Here’s authentic, traditional Macedonia,” so tourists can come and watch people like animals in a zoo—or like an exhibit. I want tourism to be about experience.
I wish we could understand that diversity is a treasure.
In this sense, Macedonia is incredible and could serve as an example for other countries—not only in Europe but globally. It could be promoted as a mosaic of stories about languages, ethnic groups, religions, dialects, as well as regional products, architecture, and nature. I don’t believe in a single “correct” narrative, just as there’s no single correct interpretation of poetry.
Why do I so stubbornly believe in the existence of multiple equally valid, though different, stories about one event or thing? As a history enthusiast, I don’t believe in objectivity in history.
Take an example. Imagine a bus full of tourists. After the trip, each one is supposed to describe and evaluate the journey. Will they all remember it the same way or assess it identically? Let a hundred years pass. How many of those stories will survive—one, two, a few? And the rest? Were they not true? Were they less authentic?
What are we missing?
The same thing as most countries. Theoretically, everyone talks about the need to be unique, yet travel agencies aim to standardize their offerings. Hotels are expected to be similar, food essentially the same, and the tourist is kept in a sterile bubble. No politics, no complex topics, no discussions about everyday life…
However, there is another trend in tourism. Interestingly, this movement is largely driven by women. Travel agencies run by women, often catering to other women, are quietly leading a revolution. Women increasingly don’t want to be mere clients; they want to be guests who respectfully enter the homes and, for a moment, the lives of other women. They ask: How are you? What’s your story? What can I learn from you, and what can you learn from me? How can we help each other?
What we all lack—especially women and other marginalized groups—is respect for our own experiences, belief in the power of our stories. I swear, I’ve witnessed how the exchange of experiences between women visiting Macedonia and women living here affects everyone. That’s when the magic happens. It’s more than tourism.
But it’s hard to achieve because this kind of tourism isn’t easy or comfortable. It requires effort from all sides. And we’re taught to pay for comfort.
That’s why travel doesn’t always educate—because learning requires a bit of discomfort.
What do we have in abundance?
People. Nothing more, nothing less.
How can we better encourage foreign tourists to visit?
That’s probably not a question for me. What I am currently „afraid of but still doing” is an attempt to show others (and myself) that it’s time to unlearn certain things before we can learn anything new.
Unlearn treating others with superiority, especially in the service sector, which includes tourism. Unlearn treating others like servants. Instead, let’s see the person, not just the service provider. Likewise, let’s see the person, not just the paying customer.
This approach doesn’t exclude making money—big money, even. On the contrary, when someone sees the person, a real human being on the other side, they value the product more. They see the value in what they’re getting.
Maybe I’m naive, but I’m okay with my naivety.
In your opinion, what promotional tools work best to reach the elusive „high-quality” tourist?
Interesting question—and I’d really like to know the answer myself!
Some people think a „high-quality” tourist is one who pays well; for others, it’s someone who causes minimal harm. Following business advice, one day I sat down with a blank sheet of paper and tried to describe my ideal client, my ideal target. Then I decided to do the opposite.
I listed the traits of people—tourists—I would not want to invite into my friends’ homes. If there’s any promotional tool I try to consistently use, it’s discouragement. I openly write: This offer is not for you if…
But perhaps the hardest thing, at least for me, is respecting my own work, knowledge, and professionalism—and pricing that knowledge appropriately. It’s tough to find the golden mean here. But now I know that if I undervalue myself, others will do the same. When I am confident in my worth and can express it, when I know when to say no to things that fall below my standards, there are people who are ready to appreciate and pay for that.
You have connections with many Macedonians involved in tourism. You visit often—how do you help them?
I try to visit as often as I can. I have a lot of plans for the coming months. I treat coming to Macedonia as an investment in myself. Even if I don’t grow my business as much as I’d like, I learn something every day, mostly from conversations and meetings with people. No course or university could provide me with this. Even this interview and the questions you’re asking teach me something; they make me pause and reflect.
How do I help people here? I honestly don’t know if I help because I’m sure I make mistakes. Helping requires knowledge and skill. I try to be attentive. To be a good listener.
The most important area for me right now is promoting women’s entrepreneurship and education against racism and for diversity. That’s why I follow startups and women-led initiatives with great interest. I try to meet these women, encourage their growth, and promote their work.
I want them to see that at least I believe in them. Because someone once believed in me, and that was the first step of many that followed.
Favorite Macedonian dish?
Peppers. Baked, stuffed with curd, pickled with garlic, chips or makalo made from dried peppers, and of course, homemade lutenica or ajvar.
Favorite Macedonian song?
„Uči me majko, karaj me” performed by Leb i Sol and „Jovano Jovanke.” My mom and I often listen to „Vo Struga dukan da imam.” My mom loves this song so much that she taught it to her students, and they sang it together at school.
Favorite place in Macedonia?
Kratovo, Prilep, Janče, and the home of the Nedanoski family in Ramne.
A place in Macedonia you’d like to visit?
Omorani – Rancho i Vancho na Kata, Berovo, and Bituše during the Vodici celebrations.
The interview was conducted by Ljubica Angelkova for the Inovativnost.mk portal. Translated with the Author’s permission.
[Link to the original publication in Macedonian.]