A Matter of Perception

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.