Let's talk about crosses. Specifically Christian crosses, like the one Jesus was nailed to as if an estate sale flier on a telephone pole during a weekend in suburbia.
There are small crosses, like the ones your high school bullies wore on gold chains around their necks. And there are also big ones, like Skopje's giant illuminating cross in the sky that I suspect has the capability of hypnotizing the entire city into a militia of sleeper agents.
Concerned for my safety, I ventured out to see the religious monstrosity up close. Unfortunately, an ominous fog clouded my vision (literally). It was a pretty sad trip up the mountain, but not as sad as the starkly depressing playground at the summit. Just a single burnt orange slide situated in a large patch of dirt. Fun! The whole experience had the vibe of an episode of The X-Files.
Feeling physically exhausted from the hike up to the blurry cross and mentally shaken from the world's saddest playground, I opted to ride a bus back down. At least I knew that would be normal. A nice, easy, typical bus ride. Surely, the bus wouldn't be something weird like a strange, knock-off red, London double-decker bus.