But the Macedonians saw very few foreigners and could be forgiven for being a little sensitive

From Trying to Please by John Julius Norwich.  Page 179.  

Yugoslavia in 1955 bore all the outward signs of Communism. There, covering the façades of the public buildings, were the standard twenty-foot-high portraits of Marx and Lenin (though—rather pointedly—not of Stalin, with whom Tito had courageously broken in 1948 and who had died just two years before our arrival). Other walls were adorned with those slogans so beloved of governments behind the Iron Curtain: slogans like “Long Live the Five Percent Increase in Medium Light Industry” that seemed to make every Communist heart beat faster. But it was Communism with a difference; the Curtain itself was gone. In 1948 Tito had established his own personal régime, which although it paid lip service to Communist principles was certainly a good deal more flexible. For one thing, Yugoslavs no longer lived in fear; they readily accepted invitations to foreign embassies or private houses and, when they could, never hesitated to invite one back. This is not to say that there was no secret police: once every six weeks or so our cook would come to me to say that she had been summoned to the UDBA—read KGB—to report on who had come to our house; together we would concoct a perfectly innocuous list, which was apparently never questioned. Nor were there any restrictions on tourism or on travel round the country. (Our Land Rover was, I believe, once briefly followed in Macedonia; but the Macedonians saw very few foreigners and could be forgiven for being a little sensitive.)