There were still pockets of Serb forces and armed civilians, the partying threatened to turn violent and the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) did not give up its arms. Instead, the fighters "liberated" many areas and took control of main roads.
German forces, supposed to be in charge of southern Kosovo, appeared at a loss as to how to control the remaining armed Serbs, the celebrating Albanians and the KLA men who emerged from cellars and mountains to claim victory.
The Germans were not in control of roads out of Prizren. The road from Albania was blocked by 300 Serb paramilitaries described by German officers as "dangerously drunk". Four miles outside the city, on the road to the Kosovo capital, Pristina, there were KLA fighters but no Germans.
Tens of thousands of Albanians remained in the mountains, awaiting a sense of security before they came down to their mostly destroyed homes.
In the morning a Yugoslav armoured troop carrier pulled up face-to-face with a German Leopard tank. They stood within eight yards of each other, the Germans looking tense and the Serbs cocky, smoking. The Serbs were demanding German army security for a convoy of soldiers, paramilitaries, police and civilian families who had lined up along the Bistrica river and in the streets of old Prizren, afraid to drive past the Albanians without an escort.
The Serbs sat in or beside their vehicles while Albanians strolled past. At first their was no hostility and some elderly Albanians stopped to greet their about-to-be-former neighbours.
But when the convoy of about 500 vehicles pulled out, younger Albanians no longer held back their feelings. They pounded the passing vehicles with stones and yelled obscenities. That was when the mutual anger showed. Even little girls inside the departing Serb cars held up three-fingered Serb victory signs towards the Albanian crowd lining the streets. It said a lot about how Serbs really felt towards their Albanian neighbours.
Masar Kuksi, a local Albanian, was about to throw a stone at a passing car when he realised it was his own white Audi. "Lopovi [thieves]," he shouted as the crowd joined in. "Gypsies," yelled others. More and more of the crowd recognised their cars departing.
The previous night, thousands more Serbs had left the city while Albanians were abiding by an unofficial curfew.
It felt eerie to sit on the front steps of a hotel watching Serb soldiers and civilians sneak out in virtual silence from a land they had controlled for so long.
Within minutes of the departure of the Serbs' daytime convoy, all hell broke loose. Long bursts of gunfire erupted near the hotel. When we got to the scene, we found the windows of a local cafe smashed in by celebrating Albanians. The Cafe Sfinga had been a favourite watering-hole for Serb paramilitaries until the German forces arrived.
Men in tracksuits produced AK-47 rifles or pistols and emptied their magazines in the air. The KLA had come out from underground. Then local youths broke into another cafe, the Oasis, on Prizren's main Shadrvan square, and put on loud Turkish music while other young men fired more guns. Many Prizren Albanians are of Turkish origin and still speak the language.
Four miles north of Prizren, in the village of Gorisha, close to where Nato mistakenly killed scores of Kosovars rounded up by the Serbs with their tractors, we found dozens of KLA guerrillas who had just come down from the mountains after the Serb convoy passed.
They said they had fought a long gun battle with the Serbs who had departed during the night.
Zenel Ahmetaj was starting to clean up his burnt-out villa, torched by the Serbs before they left, and was expecting his family to come down from the mountains in a day or two once they were sure the Serbs had gone. He said there were 10,000 people in the wooded mountains directly above Gorisha alone.Reuse content