T A B L E_T A L K Offer your tips to a Table Talker who plans to spend Easter in Paris with his son   ___________________ Click here for books about The Galapogas Islands at barnesandnoble.com ___________________   R E C E N T L Y Original sin By Janis Cooke Newman A culinary pilgrim in Italy succumbs to temptations far more wicked than ripe produce (03/17/99) Where the wild things are By John Fox An archaeologist explores the Galapagos on an expedition run by school kids (03/16/99) Going native By Chris Colin For American college students living abroad, the question is: How local can you get? (03/15/99) Family sanity By Phaedra Hise A mother reveals her secret on how to travel with children -- and still feel like you're on vacation (03/12/99) Michelin madness By David Downie An exclusive club of upper-crust chefs waits patiently each year to see who is added to -- or booted out of -- the fold (03/11/99) Browse the Wanderlust Feature archives Wanderlust's Official Travel Book Partner		" D o n ' t__S h o o t -- _______w e ' r e__A m e r i c a n s ! " A HIKE ACROSS THE MACEDONIA-ALBANIA BORDER GOES WRONG. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - BY DANIEL BECKER As I knelt in the snow, hands over my head, not feeling the cold on my bare legs, I remember thinking to myself, "Please shoot me in the leg or shoulder, not in the chest." In front of me a Macedonian soldier, his baby face contorted with fear and anger, pointed his automatic rifle at my heart. He yelled something in Macedonian that I couldn't understand, but I interpreted as, "Get down, don't move, or I will shoot." There was a lot of noise: Two other young soldiers were on the periphery, also yelling, and my friend Steve, behind me, shouted back at them. When I heard Steve say, "We're Americans," I suddenly remembered a phrase from my Macedonian language class -- od America (from America) -- and I screamed it over and over. I also heard myself saying in English, "Don't shoot, don't shoot," while my mind willed the rifle away. The day had started innocently enough, when Steve and I decided to take a hike near the town of Struga on the shores of Lake Ohrid. We had come to Ohrid, as many Macedonians do, for a weekend of rest and relaxation. The Ohrid Women's Association, Brezera, had invited Steve to a reception because his organization had given them a grant. Since the Saturday night event presented a great excuse for spending the weekend in this lovely place, he decided to accept the invitation and asked me along. I quickly agreed. One of Ohrid's many allures, besides the huge, translucent lake and the charming old town graced with three fresco-laden Byzantine monasteries, is its proximity to mountains. We had brought along our boots, anticipating a hike to take advantage of the springlike weather that had unexpectedly graced Macedonia that winter. Sunday dawned clear and warm and we pointed the car west, toward the Albanian border and a line of graceful snowcapped peaks. A typical hiking strategy in this part of Macedonia is to locate a village on a mountainside, drive to its highest point, park the car and start walking. We ended up in the small Albanian-populated town of Radolista. As in many small towns, the children's intelligence network immediately went to work, and before we could even remove our gear from the car, 20 Albanian children in various states of undress peeked at us shyly from across the way. When Steve pulled out his camera, they started posing and laughing and having a grand old time. They invited us to play jump-rope, which is particularly difficult in hiking boots. By the time we set out on the trail, even some adults had shown up. We waved goodbye to our entourage and started following a goat trail up into the mountains. High above us on the ridge we noticed a strange castlelike building, which we assumed must be some kind of border outpost, since we were so close to Albania. As every good hike requires a goal, we began to think of this building as our destination. In the middle of 1997, largely because so many people had lost their life savings in failed pyramid schemes, Albania's economy fell apart. During the subsequent unrest, armories were looted and most people armed themselves. It was now more likely that Albanians trying to enter Macedonia illegally would be carrying sophisticated weapons. Macedonian border troops, usually 19- or 20-year-old kids doing their mandatory nine months of military service, are rightly afraid of surprising illegal Albanians in the woods. After about two and a half hours of strenuous uphill hiking, we crested a hill and came upon a pyramid-shaped marker delineating the border. Above us, up a 100-yard snowbank, the strange turreted structure beckoned. Below us, Lake Ohrid stretched like a blue ribbon across the horizon. We were high on endorphins, the view and our exotic perch on the Macedonian-Albanian border. After a perfunctory discussion of the prudence of crossing into Albanian territory, we joyfully scrambled up through the snow. N E X T+P A G E | Two suspicious men prepare to enter Macedonian territory