“Пуши, пуши, пушиме, гајле си немаме, пуши цела нација, со гаранција!” – Владо Јаневски
Macedonia is a land of rich aromas—where the air is thick with the scent of roasted peppers in autumn, the floral perfume of acacia in spring, and the earthy essence of mountain herbs all year round. Every time I visit, I carry back with me the smells of home: the sweetness of freshly baked burek from a corner bakery, the smokiness of grilled meat lingering from a late-night skara, and the crisp freshness of mountain air from a morning drive through Pijanec and Malesh.
But this time, my return to London was different. Instead of the nostalgic mix of spices, wood-fired stoves, and Balkan cuisine, I came back with something far less romantic—the unmistakable, clinging scent of cigarette smoke.
Despite Macedonia’s strict smoking laws, the reality is far from their intended effect. From cafés and restaurants to bars and even some offices, cigarette smoke is inescapable. It seeps into clothes, hair, and skin, embedding itself so deeply that even after several washes, it stubbornly lingers. Sitting in a café for a quick coffee becomes an unintentional deep dive into secondhand smoke. Dining out means your meal is accompanied by a side of nicotine. Even stepping outside for “fresh air” often means walking through a haze of cigarette fumes.
While I love Macedonia for its warmth, its traditions, and its deep sense of hospitality, I can’t help but wonder—will the smell of my homeland become dominated by tobacco? The familiar, comforting scents of grilled peppers and fresh mountain breezes still exist, but they now battle against an ever-present cloud of smoke.
As I unpack my suitcase in London, I realize I’ve brought back more than just memories—I’ve brought back the unmistakable proof of Macedonia’s ongoing love affair with cigarettes. And as much as I long for the scents of home, this is one I’d rather leave behind.
