Crossing the border from Serbia to Kosovo is easy. Serbian citizens can get by with daily ID, as if they were EU citizen inside the EU Schengen fortress.
If you are, for example, a globetrotting American, it gets interesting. The Kosovo border officers admire your travel stamps and ask jolly questions, such as, "Why on Earth did an American go to Brazil?" Everybody wants to go to America, but we Kosovars are not allowed.
As one of our friends in the region put it, being an American in Kosovo is like being a pope. You will be asked all kinds of questions and told about all kind of injustices. Nobody in Kosovo has forgotten 1999, so the papal Americans are like angels of mercy with airborne bombs. Being a Serb in a region that looks quite like Serbia, I walked around thoughtlessly talking in Serbian. In Yugoslavia Serbo-Croatian was naturally a much bigger deal than English ever was; until recently the Serbian population has lived here too, and before the Kosovo war the Serbian language was much more widespread than English. With almost every Serb ethnically cleansed, there's nobody left to speak it, just empty Orthodox churches turned into tourist attractions while the town abounds with pizza and burger joints with English-language menus for.
There's nothing new about dismal slaughters and expulsions in Prizren -- it's been the capital of a medieval Serbian empire and the capital of an Albanian nationalist league too. Every village in Kosovo has some act of fame or infamy: a monastery, a war crime, a battle.
Especially notorious to me are the war crimes committed by Serbian military forces against the Albanian population, which led to the bombings by NATO in 1999.
......
Одвратно, скоро па морбидно. 
Izdajnika je uvek bilo i uvek ce ih biti, nazalost.
