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The scars of conflict, years of repression and under-development, the immense reconstruction effort - all permeate life in Kosovo. And nowhere moreso than in the capital, Prishtina. A visit to the city provides an insight into the challenges faced by the international community in trying to rebuild an entire country from the ground up.

The first sign that the newly independent state of Kosovo is still dependent on other countries is on arrival at the airport, where you are greeted by the fluttering blue flag … of Iceland. Like most of the country’s infrastructure the running of Kosovo’s airspace has been outsourced. Everything from the running of the government to brewing the nation's beer is done with the help - and the investment - of a bewildering number of other states and organisations. The two mobile phone networks, for example, are run by Slovenia and Monaco. It doesn’t take long to find examples of Kosovo’s own flag – they’re for sale everywhere on the streets – but they jostle for space with those of NATO, the UN, the EU, the United States and the ubiquitous double-headed Albanian eagle.

UN, EU, NATO, Albanian and US flags outside the Grand Hotel	Independence flags and souvenirs for sale

As you drive from the airport to the city, it's impossible to miss a 30 foot banner depicting a smiling Bill Clinton greeting visitors - the road is even named after the ex-president. Other Western figures instrumental in NATO’s 1999 bombing campaign are immortalised across the country with streets named after Tony Blair, Madeline Albright and (US diplomat) William Walker. There is a sense of gratitude towards those politicians who pushed for intervention from the international community - Prishtina is surely the only city in the world where Robin Cook is immortalized in graffiti art.

Robin Cook artwork in Prishtina	Tony Blair street in Peja

A more sober reminder of the conflict is found at the glass fronted Kosovan parliament building. Pinned to the railings are the photographs and names of hundreds of the missing men, women and children, their fates uncertain after they were driven from their towns and villages by Serbian militia in a campaign that escalated after the NATO bombs began to fall. Over 800,000 people joined the refugee columns and headed towards Albania, Macedonia, Montenegro or the West. The majority were to return to their homes eventually - but the conflict left 12,000 dead and more than 2,000 missing.

Photos of the missing pinned on parliament railings

Almost ten years later Prishtina is a city in a state of flux as the tenure of the United Nation's Mission in Kosovo (UNMIK) draws to a close. UNMIK was set up in June 1999 under United Nations Resolution 1244 after the NATO campaign was suspended. Their remit was huge. In addition to overseeing the return of hundreds of thousands of people, an entire civilian administration had to be built. Under the UNMIK umbrella, the Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) assumed responsibility for building democratic institutions and the EU was tasked with rebuilding the economy. At its height UNMIK and its partner organisations had more than 6000 international employees in the city, and they remain deeply entrenched. The main headquarters sprawl along the highway behind a segmented concrete barrier. In an effort to appear more friendly the UN had the barricades painted by local schoolchildren – the final effect is not unlike the Berlin Wall.

UNMIK HQ in Prishtina - behind security barriers painted by schoolchildren

Dotted around the city are dozens of smaller UN buildings – the department for refugees and returns, the department for migrations and foreigners, the department of justice. In theory all this will soon go as the UN’s mandate in Kosovo comes to an end, to be replaced by a European Union mission (EULUX). The EU mission is presented as being in a more advisory, less hands on capacity, although not everyone is convinced. But at the least their HQ will be away from the city centre, with the Kosovo government set to take over the UN buildings.

Everyone here has his or her own views on UNMIK and EULUX, but the consensus seems to be that foreign intervention was a necessary step in transforming a breakaway province emerging from a bloody conflict to a fully functioning independent democratic state. Some would like to see the pace of change go faster. The group ‘Self Determination, No Negotiation’ are a vocal minority and difficult to miss – not least their logos stencilled on the side of every official building and institution in the capital. One of these refers to the settlement proposed by the UN Contact group in 2007, led by former Finnish President Martti Ahtisaari. After months of negotiations with Belgrade the 'Ahtisaari Plan' for Kosovo's final status promised everything from a national army to a flag, without actually promising independence. 'Property of Ahtisaari’ was duly sprayed by the group on the sides of rubbish bins across the city.

Protest against the new EU mission in Kosovo	No negotiation, self-determination!	Property of Ahtisaari

For some the main frustration with UNMIK is on purely practical grounds. It’s now almost ten years since the majority of Kosovan Albanians were able to return to their homes after being driven away by the Serbs, yet there is still no reliable running water. The electricity supplied by Kosovo A and Kosovo B – hulking soviet era power stations that mar the horizon and belch out clouds of pollution – is erratic at best. Petrol powered generators are a common sight on the streets outside shops and restaurants to cope with the frequent power cuts. Only one of the country’s few train lines is running and during my visit even this had ground to a halt due to the actions of Serb railway workers in the North of the country. The economy is still the single biggest problem with high unemployment - in the villages surrounding the capital school teachers still earn as little as 150 euros a month.

Petrol generators and potholes - common sights on Prishtina's pavements

Despite these daily frustrations, there is a sense of opportunity and optimism amongst Prishtina’s middle classes. In a leafy area of the city named Pejton Town (named for its similarity to US soap ‘Peyton Place’) bars and cafes with names like Bamboo and Oddyssea line the streets, packed with a glamorous international and local crowd. On my first night out there I find myself talking to a group including an assistant professor at one of the city’s many private universities, an advisor to the Albanian president and the head of a major NGO. Every one of them is under thirty years old and many have degrees in political science or economics from the UK. The talk is of party politics and business deals and tasteless jokes about UN monitors during the war. Between bars we pass gated complexes housing the British Council, prominent NGOs and various embassies.