I went to meet my new host grandmother today at the invitation of my host mom. She lives on the other side of the village. We were sitting around and chatting as my host sister, Sergiana, played with her 1 ½-year-old cousin, Gabriel. Out of the middle of nowhere, they pulled out a miniature foosball table and I was instantly reminded of all those long nights in Philadelphia.
Zoning out as I watched them play, I started to think about how much everything in life is about perception. In my experience, the more time passes, the more you forget the bad things. I was miserable most of my final year in Philadelphia. But perspective has given me the gift of sitting here thousands of miles away, listening to a conversation in a language I hadn’t ever heard up until three months ago, and I being able to think that Philadelphia wasn’t that awful. It’s better now that I’m away. I remember that at one time, I had friends there. I had ties that bound me. Even in a year, so many things have changed. Most of them are gone or we no longer talk. There is the knowledge that there is nothing for me there anymore—that I’ve done all that I could have and needed to. Most of us should be so lucky to have such a concrete sense of closure. As Philadelphia slides further and further into the rearview, I know that it wasn’t without its moments. Namely, the foosball tournaments where Don Bito would run the table on me.
* * *
A few days ago, my host mom said I should just stay in my room on the third floor for the next two years. The original plan is for me to move to the first floor in a separate apartment starting in mid-September. This is what the two volunteers that have stayed here did in the past, and I plan on sticking to that. My family is great: they give me all kinds of space and also incorporate me in activities. But there comes a time when you just want the space. There are also other factors that go into this. Of course I told them I’d consider, but I’m not planning on it at this point.
It’s already been mentioned that I should come to dinner every night even when I move downstairs. On the way home today, my host sister told me that she didn’t want me to move. “It’s not like I’m going to be that far away,” I said. “Yes, I know, but I just want you to stay.” Over the past two weeks, we’ve done a lot of bonding. Today she told me I’m like a big sister to her, which is something that she always wanted. I’m really enjoying getting to know her. It’s especially nice to gain an insight on the problems facing youth and young women in Albania.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Tour Through an Unknown Part of Europe
I read a really interesting article by a German journalist who recently traveled from Albania (Tour durch ein Stück unbekanntes Europa, Albanien bietet dem Gast noch Ursprünglichkeit: schnell hin, bevor die Kreuzfahrtschiffe kommen, Neue Deutschland, 13.06.2009). I found her observations to be in harmony with many of mine and my fellow volunteers.
In describing a market in Tirana:
... Gegrillte Schafsköpfe drehen auf dem Spieß gemütlich ihre Runden... Obst und Gemüse schmecken herrlich, ebenso das trübe, dickflüssige, in Plastikflaschen abgefüllte Olivenöl. Praktisch alles, was angebaut wird, ist Bio. Schlichtweg weil die Bauern sich Kunstdünger oder Pflanzenschutzmittel nicht leisten können...
Grilled sheep heads make their comfortable rounds on a spit. Fruit and vegetables taste wonderful, as well as the plastic bottles full of cloudy and thick olive oil. Almost everything that is farmed is bio, simply because the farmers can’t afford fertilizer or pesticides.
Die Busse stammen oft aus Deutschland, hier und da hängen noch Schilder auf denen steht: »Bitte nicht mit dem Fahrer sprechen«. Das haben wir auch gar nicht vor, es gibt genug zu gucken. Hier ist man dem Alltag der Albaner nah wie sonst kaum. Einmal nehmen wir am Straßenrand eine Frau mit Federvieh an Bord. Drei junge Hühner strecken ihre Köpfe aus einer Plastiktüte – sie kommen unten im Gepäckraum unter...
Many of the buses are from Germany and some of them still have the signs telling passengers not to talk to the driver. We won’t be doing that anyway because there is enough to see. Traveling by bus puts you closest to the everyday life of Albanians. On the side of the road, we picked up a woman with poultry. Three peeps stuck their heads out of a plastic bag. They were placed in the luggage compartment under the bus.
“Die Menschen sind freundlich, hilfsbereit und zuerst ein wenig schüchtern. Man spürt, sie sind an den Umgang mit Touristen (noch) nicht gewöhnt. Gleichzeitig tun sie alles, um gute Gastgeber zu sein. Verzichtet ein halb gefülltes Café auf Espresso, weil gerade der Strom ausgefallen ist, wirft der Besitzer für uns das Notstromaggregat an. Auf einem Markt sollen wir 120 Lek zahlen. Wir haben nur einen 100- und einen 500-Lek-Schein. Der Händler nimmt den Hunderter und bedankt sich.
The people are friendly, ready to help and even a little shy at first. You can sense that they are still not used to the presence of tourists. At the same time, they do everything to be hospitable. When the power went out before an entire espresso could be made, an owner turned on the generator. At a market, we were supposed to pay 120 Lek but had only 100 and 500 Lek bills. The merchant took the hundred and said thank you.
Die Küche Albaniens ist einfach, aber köstlich. Vieles erinnert an die türkische Küche; über 500 Jahre war Albanien Teil des Osmanischen Reichs. Hackfleischröllchen mit viel Knoblauch (Qoftë), Oliven, Schafskäse, kalte Joghurt-Gurken-Suppe und gegrilltes oder mariniertes Gemüse fehlen auf keiner Karte.
The Albanian kitchen is simple, but delicious. Much is reminiscent of Turkish cuisine, since Albania was part of the Ottoman Empire for over 500 years. Meatballs with a lot of garlic, olives, goat’s cheese, cold yogurt and cucumber soup and grilled or marinated vegetables are on every menu.
Mit Höllenlautstärke scheppert Musik vom Band. Tanzende Mädchen... sehen wir, auch später immer wieder im albanischen Fernsehen. In Cafés und Restaurants läuft ohne Unterbrechung der Folkchannel.
The band clattered at extremely high decibels. We see dancing girls. Again and again we see them later on Albanian television. In cafes and restaurants, the folk music channel is on without interruption.
In ein Land, das für europäische Verhältnisse gänzlich unberührt ist, sollte man einfach nicht mit geschmiedeten Plänen aufbrechen. Stattdessen erleben wir, wie aufregend es sein kann, ein Land zuerst mit den eigenen Augen zu sehen und nicht ständig mit den Bildern aus Hochglanzmagazinen im Kopf zu vergleichen.
In a land that is barely touched by European relations, it’s best to keep your plans flexible. Instead, we experienced how exciting it can be to see a country first and foremost with your own eyes instead of always comparing it with the pictures found in glossy magazines.
In describing a market in Tirana:
... Gegrillte Schafsköpfe drehen auf dem Spieß gemütlich ihre Runden... Obst und Gemüse schmecken herrlich, ebenso das trübe, dickflüssige, in Plastikflaschen abgefüllte Olivenöl. Praktisch alles, was angebaut wird, ist Bio. Schlichtweg weil die Bauern sich Kunstdünger oder Pflanzenschutzmittel nicht leisten können...
Grilled sheep heads make their comfortable rounds on a spit. Fruit and vegetables taste wonderful, as well as the plastic bottles full of cloudy and thick olive oil. Almost everything that is farmed is bio, simply because the farmers can’t afford fertilizer or pesticides.
Die Busse stammen oft aus Deutschland, hier und da hängen noch Schilder auf denen steht: »Bitte nicht mit dem Fahrer sprechen«. Das haben wir auch gar nicht vor, es gibt genug zu gucken. Hier ist man dem Alltag der Albaner nah wie sonst kaum. Einmal nehmen wir am Straßenrand eine Frau mit Federvieh an Bord. Drei junge Hühner strecken ihre Köpfe aus einer Plastiktüte – sie kommen unten im Gepäckraum unter...
Many of the buses are from Germany and some of them still have the signs telling passengers not to talk to the driver. We won’t be doing that anyway because there is enough to see. Traveling by bus puts you closest to the everyday life of Albanians. On the side of the road, we picked up a woman with poultry. Three peeps stuck their heads out of a plastic bag. They were placed in the luggage compartment under the bus.
“Die Menschen sind freundlich, hilfsbereit und zuerst ein wenig schüchtern. Man spürt, sie sind an den Umgang mit Touristen (noch) nicht gewöhnt. Gleichzeitig tun sie alles, um gute Gastgeber zu sein. Verzichtet ein halb gefülltes Café auf Espresso, weil gerade der Strom ausgefallen ist, wirft der Besitzer für uns das Notstromaggregat an. Auf einem Markt sollen wir 120 Lek zahlen. Wir haben nur einen 100- und einen 500-Lek-Schein. Der Händler nimmt den Hunderter und bedankt sich.
The people are friendly, ready to help and even a little shy at first. You can sense that they are still not used to the presence of tourists. At the same time, they do everything to be hospitable. When the power went out before an entire espresso could be made, an owner turned on the generator. At a market, we were supposed to pay 120 Lek but had only 100 and 500 Lek bills. The merchant took the hundred and said thank you.
Die Küche Albaniens ist einfach, aber köstlich. Vieles erinnert an die türkische Küche; über 500 Jahre war Albanien Teil des Osmanischen Reichs. Hackfleischröllchen mit viel Knoblauch (Qoftë), Oliven, Schafskäse, kalte Joghurt-Gurken-Suppe und gegrilltes oder mariniertes Gemüse fehlen auf keiner Karte.
The Albanian kitchen is simple, but delicious. Much is reminiscent of Turkish cuisine, since Albania was part of the Ottoman Empire for over 500 years. Meatballs with a lot of garlic, olives, goat’s cheese, cold yogurt and cucumber soup and grilled or marinated vegetables are on every menu.
Mit Höllenlautstärke scheppert Musik vom Band. Tanzende Mädchen... sehen wir, auch später immer wieder im albanischen Fernsehen. In Cafés und Restaurants läuft ohne Unterbrechung der Folkchannel.
The band clattered at extremely high decibels. We see dancing girls. Again and again we see them later on Albanian television. In cafes and restaurants, the folk music channel is on without interruption.
In ein Land, das für europäische Verhältnisse gänzlich unberührt ist, sollte man einfach nicht mit geschmiedeten Plänen aufbrechen. Stattdessen erleben wir, wie aufregend es sein kann, ein Land zuerst mit den eigenen Augen zu sehen und nicht ständig mit den Bildern aus Hochglanzmagazinen im Kopf zu vergleichen.
In a land that is barely touched by European relations, it’s best to keep your plans flexible. Instead, we experienced how exciting it can be to see a country first and foremost with your own eyes instead of always comparing it with the pictures found in glossy magazines.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Only Meat
I haven’t written much about what I’ve been eating since I’ve been here, and it will have to wait until a later entry. I plan on posting some recipes so you can get a good idea. With the summer heating up, there is an almost overwhelming supply of fresh fruits and vegetables. And most of them are incredibly cheap.
Anyhow, going to restaurants here is sometimes a challenge. For one, Albanians move their head from side to side, which can mean a variety of things. Sometimes, you will ask for something and they will shake your head, prompting you to verbally confirm the item’s availability. Secondly, there is often no menu at all or a menu from which half the items are unavailable. There are also restaurants marked as such that serve no food at all. Needless to say, we’ve looked like morons here quite frequently.
In Durres on Saturday, we had another one of those moments. Our group of eight volunteers wanted to sit down to dinner. We found a restaurant and Phoebe went in to inquire about prices and items. She returned to tell us that the restaurant had meat. In our brains, we thought that meat would automatically mean some form of potato or rice in addition.
We went to the restaurant’s outside patio, organized the tables and chairs for our group, and sat down to order. It went a little something like this:
“Good evening, do you have any rice?”
“No, just meat. We don’t have fish today because it still hasn’t arrived yet.” the waitress said.
“What about potatoes?”
“No, just meat.”
We started speculating amongst ourselves. “Do you think they just bring out a plate of meat with nothing else then?” I asked. We all made semi-frowns around the table because it clearly wasn’t what we wanted. The waitress walked away.
A few minutes later, the waitress returned. Up until this point, the conversation with her had been entirely in Albanian. Until she came back with a slip of paper in her hand and asked in English: “Who’s in charge here?!” We really didn’t see that coming. In dealing with the shock of a person knowing such a random English phrase (no doubt straight out of a movie), I raised my hand. In it, she placed a note that said: “These are my American friends, please take good care of them,” and sent us to a restaurant that had food more our style. These are the kinds of adventures that we have here.
Non-sequitur: On my way to the internet café today, I saw a turned over bicycle and a group of three kids sitting on the sidewalk. I thought there had been a crash. As I got closer, I saw that they were playing with POGS. Need I reference the wise words of Ervini? He really wasn’t kidding when he told me, “Here you will find many treasures.” I’m going to cross my fingers for a Tamogotchi.
Anyhow, going to restaurants here is sometimes a challenge. For one, Albanians move their head from side to side, which can mean a variety of things. Sometimes, you will ask for something and they will shake your head, prompting you to verbally confirm the item’s availability. Secondly, there is often no menu at all or a menu from which half the items are unavailable. There are also restaurants marked as such that serve no food at all. Needless to say, we’ve looked like morons here quite frequently.
In Durres on Saturday, we had another one of those moments. Our group of eight volunteers wanted to sit down to dinner. We found a restaurant and Phoebe went in to inquire about prices and items. She returned to tell us that the restaurant had meat. In our brains, we thought that meat would automatically mean some form of potato or rice in addition.
We went to the restaurant’s outside patio, organized the tables and chairs for our group, and sat down to order. It went a little something like this:
“Good evening, do you have any rice?”
“No, just meat. We don’t have fish today because it still hasn’t arrived yet.” the waitress said.
“What about potatoes?”
“No, just meat.”
We started speculating amongst ourselves. “Do you think they just bring out a plate of meat with nothing else then?” I asked. We all made semi-frowns around the table because it clearly wasn’t what we wanted. The waitress walked away.
A few minutes later, the waitress returned. Up until this point, the conversation with her had been entirely in Albanian. Until she came back with a slip of paper in her hand and asked in English: “Who’s in charge here?!” We really didn’t see that coming. In dealing with the shock of a person knowing such a random English phrase (no doubt straight out of a movie), I raised my hand. In it, she placed a note that said: “These are my American friends, please take good care of them,” and sent us to a restaurant that had food more our style. These are the kinds of adventures that we have here.
Non-sequitur: On my way to the internet café today, I saw a turned over bicycle and a group of three kids sitting on the sidewalk. I thought there had been a crash. As I got closer, I saw that they were playing with POGS. Need I reference the wise words of Ervini? He really wasn’t kidding when he told me, “Here you will find many treasures.” I’m going to cross my fingers for a Tamogotchi.
Stuck in my craw
If someone forced me to name something I don’t care for about living here, only one thing comes to mind. Certainly there are daily inconveniences that come with living in a country that is undergoing a lot of development. These things are perfectly acceptable because they are a form of growing pains that are necessary to improve life in the country now and in the future (outages, sporadic road construction, etc.). There is one thing that I have a hard time tolerating: price gouging at the hands of furgon drivers.
Let me first explain about furgons, because they are a foreign concept for Americans: they are privately owned minivans that function as a form of public transportation. It should also be noted that they vary tremendously in quality of machine, quality of driver and overall safety. They usually hold around nine to ten passengers depending on size and are faster than buses. Unlike buses that state their prices up front, furgon drivers can charge whatever they feel like. Usually this number is linked to either the size of a group if you are traveling in a group, or by time and distance. Most of the time we don’t have any problems. Sometimes, and it’s usually at the worst possible time, drivers will try to overcharge us. And not by just a little, but by 200 – 300 percent. It is enough to make you scream. I can understand why they do it, since many Westerners in Albania are working for foreign aid associations, have money to spare, and limited Albanian skills. As a volunteer serving to help a country that has requested my help, it can sometimes be a very frustrating experience when I’m asked to shell out significantly more than a host country national for the very same ride. When I told my first host family how a driver wanted to charge us 500Lek for a 100Lek trip, my mother said, “Albanians are very bad.” I said, “Not Albanians, just some. Maybe like one or two.” And that’s exactly the case. It’s frustrating, and we tolerate it… while all the while we know that they are by far the exception to the rule when it comes to the character of the Albanian people. When you find yourself in a verbal altercation with a furgon driver and feel your pulse racing, it’s important to remember that we’ve seen the best of what the Albanian people have to offer us as well starting from the moment we first arrived.
Let me first explain about furgons, because they are a foreign concept for Americans: they are privately owned minivans that function as a form of public transportation. It should also be noted that they vary tremendously in quality of machine, quality of driver and overall safety. They usually hold around nine to ten passengers depending on size and are faster than buses. Unlike buses that state their prices up front, furgon drivers can charge whatever they feel like. Usually this number is linked to either the size of a group if you are traveling in a group, or by time and distance. Most of the time we don’t have any problems. Sometimes, and it’s usually at the worst possible time, drivers will try to overcharge us. And not by just a little, but by 200 – 300 percent. It is enough to make you scream. I can understand why they do it, since many Westerners in Albania are working for foreign aid associations, have money to spare, and limited Albanian skills. As a volunteer serving to help a country that has requested my help, it can sometimes be a very frustrating experience when I’m asked to shell out significantly more than a host country national for the very same ride. When I told my first host family how a driver wanted to charge us 500Lek for a 100Lek trip, my mother said, “Albanians are very bad.” I said, “Not Albanians, just some. Maybe like one or two.” And that’s exactly the case. It’s frustrating, and we tolerate it… while all the while we know that they are by far the exception to the rule when it comes to the character of the Albanian people. When you find yourself in a verbal altercation with a furgon driver and feel your pulse racing, it’s important to remember that we’ve seen the best of what the Albanian people have to offer us as well starting from the moment we first arrived.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
“Here you will find many treasures”
One day when I was standing in line with the sufflaqe stand with my Albanian teacher, Ervin, Outkast’s Mrs. Jackson began to play. The group of volunteers immediately began to sing along.
“I haven’t heard this song in years,” I said.
“Here you will find many treasures,” my teacher told me. He wasn’t kidding. I’ve heard songs I haven’t heard in years and seen television shows that I forgot ever existed. Celine Dion and The Cranberries are two of the more popular artists that I hear on an everyday basis at random.
The finding of long-lost treasures here continued the other day. As I opened an individually-wrapped piece of gum, I discovered that it had something in it. What was it, you ask? Printed on wax paper, it was a picture of a very young Sting that must have been taken in the late seventies or early eighties. And he was shirtless in it.
The hunt continues. What else will I find over the next two years?
“I haven’t heard this song in years,” I said.
“Here you will find many treasures,” my teacher told me. He wasn’t kidding. I’ve heard songs I haven’t heard in years and seen television shows that I forgot ever existed. Celine Dion and The Cranberries are two of the more popular artists that I hear on an everyday basis at random.
The finding of long-lost treasures here continued the other day. As I opened an individually-wrapped piece of gum, I discovered that it had something in it. What was it, you ask? Printed on wax paper, it was a picture of a very young Sting that must have been taken in the late seventies or early eighties. And he was shirtless in it.
The hunt continues. What else will I find over the next two years?
Smile like you mean it
I’ve been here for just about three weeks and I am still trying to find my place. It’s hard to arrive on site as a teacher when the school year is almost over, which is something that I hope the Peace Corps will consider in the future. School is over tomorrow, and there haven’t been formal classes for the last two weeks. The students come to school for a couple hours, help clean the school and organize the classrooms for next year, and then leave to go to the beach. While I’m waiting to be productive in my own sense of the word, I’ve taken time to introduce myself and continue meeting people. I smile a lot and am friendly… but not too friendly. Greeting people is very important here, so I make sure it take it seriously. It’s kind of funny because I haven’t done anything concrete here just yet, but people will tell me how nice and good I am. I don’t know how to handle that because compliments make me feel awkward, but I just say thank you. Also, my Albanian is getting good enough for me to start being as silly as I am in English, and I’ve really been making my host mom laugh these past two weeks.
I go to school every day, even though there isn’t any formal work for me. Last week, I spoke to the students of my school and the neighboring 9-year school about offering summer courses. At this point, I have over eighty students enrolled for my lessons. That might seem like a huge roster since there is only one of me, but many students will not show up or will stop coming. I’ve tried to break the students up into manageable groups, but it is not very easy. I’ve spoken with the English teachers of my school about the students on my roster to try and break them up into the appropriate levels. With the students of the 9-year school, I will have them all report to school next Tuesday, where I will administer a brief test to try and organize them by level. Even between the ages of 11 – 14, there are huge divides in linguistic ability. This is largely because some parents send their children to private English courses. Because of this, it’s impossible for me to organize 9-year students merely by age.
I’m interested to see how the students react to me. They have already been exposed to two Peace Corps volunteers that taught English, so they might know a little more about the methods. However, they were surprised to find out that the courses were free. When they could get past that, they were confused when I said there was no course book. I plan on doing lectures and activities completely through the use of the school’s technology: using overhead projectors, PowerPoint-based classes, pictures and sound and video clips. If I’m being giving complete control of the resources, I’d be silly not to use them.
Since last week, I’ve been really busy with lesson planning. I started by making a long-term plan of the topics I wanted to cover, organizing the groups of students and coming up with a schedule, and now I am working on the individual lessons. You have no idea how much work a teacher does until it’s you on the other side of the desk, until it’s you making the plans. Although it’s a bit taxing, I want to create lessons that will interest and encourage students.
Aside from teaching four days a week, from 8 – 11, I’ll spend the afternoons on the beach. My site is really beautiful, even for a person that doesn’t care much for the beach like me. I’ve been there twice this week. I remove my shoes and walk on the edge of the dark sand where the water is just barely touching. I watch the sunset, and am struck with such a sense of serenity as the orange sphere disappears from the pink-purple sky and its last rays disperse over the sea. I can’t stop staring. I love those final minutes of daylight. Aside from working on my tan (!), I’d like to do some traveling as well during the summer. I have friends dotting the country that I already miss terribly. The slow pace of summer work in Albania creates in me a sort of Sehnsucht nach der Ferne. I’ll be getting to know Tirana, since there’s a Fourth of July event at the embassy and a VAC meeting later on. I’ve been elected by the volunteers in my sector to represent them on a committee that works as a liaison between volunteers and the Peace Corps. It involves fielding complaints, working to resolve them and working on policies that effect volunteers. It’s a tremendous honor and I’m grateful that my peers chose me to represent them.
Summer is also a time to think about what I want to do in the long-term. I’d really like to involve the students in staging an adapted play, some music history courses and perhaps a film club once school returns in September. My colleagues and director have requested all kinds of materials for the school, so I will also explore grants and funding options. I’ve already secured a shipment of 30 pounds of donated books and I’d like to continue working on our school’s fledging foreign languages library. Borges, an author who has weighed so heavily on my mind these past months, would be pleased. “I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library,” he wrote.
It’s been hard for some people to understand why I am here. “Why are you here?” is one of the most popular questions from Albanians besides whether or not I will marry and Albanian. I’d like to say it’s because I’m just here to help others, but that is only part of the truth. I’m here to help myself, too. There are things that I want to change about myself and things that I know that I need to improve on. I’ve always wanted nothing more in my life to learn and to work hard to become the best possible version of myself. Coming here was a way for me to have an adventure (since feeling bored with my life is my biggest fear) and learn more about myself in the process. Gone are some distractions that may have kept me in a permanent state of veering off the path. I want to experience so much personally and professionally over these next two years; I don’t just want to grow, I want to blossom.
I go to school every day, even though there isn’t any formal work for me. Last week, I spoke to the students of my school and the neighboring 9-year school about offering summer courses. At this point, I have over eighty students enrolled for my lessons. That might seem like a huge roster since there is only one of me, but many students will not show up or will stop coming. I’ve tried to break the students up into manageable groups, but it is not very easy. I’ve spoken with the English teachers of my school about the students on my roster to try and break them up into the appropriate levels. With the students of the 9-year school, I will have them all report to school next Tuesday, where I will administer a brief test to try and organize them by level. Even between the ages of 11 – 14, there are huge divides in linguistic ability. This is largely because some parents send their children to private English courses. Because of this, it’s impossible for me to organize 9-year students merely by age.
I’m interested to see how the students react to me. They have already been exposed to two Peace Corps volunteers that taught English, so they might know a little more about the methods. However, they were surprised to find out that the courses were free. When they could get past that, they were confused when I said there was no course book. I plan on doing lectures and activities completely through the use of the school’s technology: using overhead projectors, PowerPoint-based classes, pictures and sound and video clips. If I’m being giving complete control of the resources, I’d be silly not to use them.
Since last week, I’ve been really busy with lesson planning. I started by making a long-term plan of the topics I wanted to cover, organizing the groups of students and coming up with a schedule, and now I am working on the individual lessons. You have no idea how much work a teacher does until it’s you on the other side of the desk, until it’s you making the plans. Although it’s a bit taxing, I want to create lessons that will interest and encourage students.
Aside from teaching four days a week, from 8 – 11, I’ll spend the afternoons on the beach. My site is really beautiful, even for a person that doesn’t care much for the beach like me. I’ve been there twice this week. I remove my shoes and walk on the edge of the dark sand where the water is just barely touching. I watch the sunset, and am struck with such a sense of serenity as the orange sphere disappears from the pink-purple sky and its last rays disperse over the sea. I can’t stop staring. I love those final minutes of daylight. Aside from working on my tan (!), I’d like to do some traveling as well during the summer. I have friends dotting the country that I already miss terribly. The slow pace of summer work in Albania creates in me a sort of Sehnsucht nach der Ferne. I’ll be getting to know Tirana, since there’s a Fourth of July event at the embassy and a VAC meeting later on. I’ve been elected by the volunteers in my sector to represent them on a committee that works as a liaison between volunteers and the Peace Corps. It involves fielding complaints, working to resolve them and working on policies that effect volunteers. It’s a tremendous honor and I’m grateful that my peers chose me to represent them.
Summer is also a time to think about what I want to do in the long-term. I’d really like to involve the students in staging an adapted play, some music history courses and perhaps a film club once school returns in September. My colleagues and director have requested all kinds of materials for the school, so I will also explore grants and funding options. I’ve already secured a shipment of 30 pounds of donated books and I’d like to continue working on our school’s fledging foreign languages library. Borges, an author who has weighed so heavily on my mind these past months, would be pleased. “I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library,” he wrote.
It’s been hard for some people to understand why I am here. “Why are you here?” is one of the most popular questions from Albanians besides whether or not I will marry and Albanian. I’d like to say it’s because I’m just here to help others, but that is only part of the truth. I’m here to help myself, too. There are things that I want to change about myself and things that I know that I need to improve on. I’ve always wanted nothing more in my life to learn and to work hard to become the best possible version of myself. Coming here was a way for me to have an adventure (since feeling bored with my life is my biggest fear) and learn more about myself in the process. Gone are some distractions that may have kept me in a permanent state of veering off the path. I want to experience so much personally and professionally over these next two years; I don’t just want to grow, I want to blossom.
You know you’re not in America when…
You are awoken at all hours of the night and morning by chickens that don’t just cluck, but scream. I have never been around chickens enough to know just how noisy they are. I am learning that they make sounds that I’ve never thought a chicken was capable of.
You have to adjust to the sound of fighting dogs every night.
You hear at least two or three of the five daily prayer calls.
Politicians up for election walk around in the street after political demonstrations with little semblance of an entourage (this is how I completely unintentionally saw Edi Rama in the street. Yes, he is huge in real life).
If you buy something that totals 168 Lek and the store keeper doesn’t have the exact change to give you, they will give you a piece of gum or something small in an effort to make things even. This happens either because there aren’t 1Lek pieces or there just aren’t enough in circulation. The smallest piece I’ve seen is 5Lek, and most of them come from western-style grocery stores.
You can buy a kilo of tomatoes and a kilo of onions for $1.00.
You have to adjust to the sound of fighting dogs every night.
You hear at least two or three of the five daily prayer calls.
Politicians up for election walk around in the street after political demonstrations with little semblance of an entourage (this is how I completely unintentionally saw Edi Rama in the street. Yes, he is huge in real life).
If you buy something that totals 168 Lek and the store keeper doesn’t have the exact change to give you, they will give you a piece of gum or something small in an effort to make things even. This happens either because there aren’t 1Lek pieces or there just aren’t enough in circulation. The smallest piece I’ve seen is 5Lek, and most of them come from western-style grocery stores.
You can buy a kilo of tomatoes and a kilo of onions for $1.00.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Off the Radar
One of the things you’ll have to get used to, dear readers, are the periods of time when I disappear. It’s not intentional, it’s usually do to the fact that I am overwhelmed in some way. The past couple weeks have left me with little time to think; let alone to write.
Cliff’s Notes: three weeks ago, I went to a conference in Tirana with all the other volunteers to meet my future counterparts. Immediately afterwards, I spent three days in my future site doing some assessments and meeting people. Then it was back to Elbasan to finish up training, and everything was capped off by a huge ceremony featuring the US Ambassador to Albania. Two days later, I was packing my bags again and trying not to think too hard about the distance of my friends who were once so close or about how much I’d miss my host family.
And that brings us to now. I’ve been in my permanent site for a few days. It’s such a disorienting feeling, being in Albania for two months and knowing places and people, and then being taken out of your element and asked to do it all over again. This usually involves looking weird and/or doing weird things, and being confused about the most simplest of things most of the time. It’s actually kind of hilarious; if not a little depressing considering the fact that it makes me feel like a child all over again. I’m enjoying unpacking and thinking about staying in one place for (gasp) TWO years and the comfort it will afford me. Getting comfortable is not something I’m familiar with, especially since these last few years have been spent all over the place.
I’ve spent two days at work so far. Perhaps the only real adjustment that I’ll have to make is to the pace of life and the pace of work. Things just go a lot slowly here, and I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing either. As volunteers we have to realize that we can’t come in and immediately implement a zillion projects. Everything takes time. It also takes a lot of coffees to get the ball rolling and getting to know people. All too often the pace of life in America has seemed overwhelming, bewildering even, to me. All we ever want to talk about is business. You spend so much time at work and barely know anything about the person that sits next to you eight or more hours a day. Some aspects about the way we choose (or accept) to do things seem so dehumanizing. Although there are certainly issues with the hours and output of work here, it’s nice to know that it’s not always about being fixated on instant results. As Americans, the Albanian attitude of “avash, avash,” (“slowly, slowly”) might be a little hard to adjust to, but understanding and adjustment are going to be necessary if we want to work within the established system. I’m looking forward to all the ups and downs that will come over the next two years because they will present me with all kinds of learning opportunities.
Provided I can ever get better. I have had a head cold for two weeks. I got some heavy antibiotics and they are assaulting my stomach. Throw in severe coughing that keeps me up at night and it has been a rough couple weeks, healthwise.
Cliff’s Notes: three weeks ago, I went to a conference in Tirana with all the other volunteers to meet my future counterparts. Immediately afterwards, I spent three days in my future site doing some assessments and meeting people. Then it was back to Elbasan to finish up training, and everything was capped off by a huge ceremony featuring the US Ambassador to Albania. Two days later, I was packing my bags again and trying not to think too hard about the distance of my friends who were once so close or about how much I’d miss my host family.
And that brings us to now. I’ve been in my permanent site for a few days. It’s such a disorienting feeling, being in Albania for two months and knowing places and people, and then being taken out of your element and asked to do it all over again. This usually involves looking weird and/or doing weird things, and being confused about the most simplest of things most of the time. It’s actually kind of hilarious; if not a little depressing considering the fact that it makes me feel like a child all over again. I’m enjoying unpacking and thinking about staying in one place for (gasp) TWO years and the comfort it will afford me. Getting comfortable is not something I’m familiar with, especially since these last few years have been spent all over the place.
I’ve spent two days at work so far. Perhaps the only real adjustment that I’ll have to make is to the pace of life and the pace of work. Things just go a lot slowly here, and I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing either. As volunteers we have to realize that we can’t come in and immediately implement a zillion projects. Everything takes time. It also takes a lot of coffees to get the ball rolling and getting to know people. All too often the pace of life in America has seemed overwhelming, bewildering even, to me. All we ever want to talk about is business. You spend so much time at work and barely know anything about the person that sits next to you eight or more hours a day. Some aspects about the way we choose (or accept) to do things seem so dehumanizing. Although there are certainly issues with the hours and output of work here, it’s nice to know that it’s not always about being fixated on instant results. As Americans, the Albanian attitude of “avash, avash,” (“slowly, slowly”) might be a little hard to adjust to, but understanding and adjustment are going to be necessary if we want to work within the established system. I’m looking forward to all the ups and downs that will come over the next two years because they will present me with all kinds of learning opportunities.
Provided I can ever get better. I have had a head cold for two weeks. I got some heavy antibiotics and they are assaulting my stomach. Throw in severe coughing that keeps me up at night and it has been a rough couple weeks, healthwise.
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