What is more Albanian than turkeys perched on top of a BMW?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
The Beach
These pictures were taken about a ten minutes’ walk away from my house. Again, my friends and I laugh at the ideas we had about life in PC Albania versus the reality.
Chasing the Sea
One of the best things established by PCVs is the library in the Peace Corps office. It is in dire need of organization, but the library has hundreds of books donated by volunteers. And because I can never say no to a book, I now have my own fledging library in my room of books of my own, books from friends, books Priscilla has sent me, and books I’ve borrowed from the library. And when I’m done with all of those, I can start on all the Vietnam books my school’s English-language library has (don’t ask me why).
On my last trip to Tirana, I brought five books home with me. Good thing my host father had bookshelves built into my new room where I’ll be staying, in the family home, for the next year. Having my books near me provides such a comfort and reminds me of home. Maybe “home” is really where my book collection is.
So aside from a Guenther Grass and all those Weisse Massai books, I picked up Chasing the Sea by Tom Bissell. Bissell was a PCV in Uzbekistan in 1996 that ended up ETing (early terminating; or what I call “boomeranging,” which I definitely mean in the pejorative). Even though he only stayed seven months into service, he still managed to write a great book. It’s part travelogue, part memoir, part history, and part adventure story, as he returns to Uzbekistan five years later to examine the disappearance of the Aral Sea. Along the way, he recollects on his terminated service, details Central Asian history and introduces us to a whole set of characters and places that are at once exotic but yet familiar.
What I appreciate most is the parallels I can draw between his experiences there and mine here. I laughed out loud when he talked about how everyone knows where they’re going in Tashkent but no one knows where anything is (uhm, Tirana?!), or when he goes into detail about food preparation, PST and inter-PCV relationships, largely because it all seems so familiar. Part of me also wanted to read this because my first placement was to Central Asia (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan or Turkmenistan) and I often think about how different my experience would have been if I went there. This book gives me a lot to think about.
On my last trip to Tirana, I brought five books home with me. Good thing my host father had bookshelves built into my new room where I’ll be staying, in the family home, for the next year. Having my books near me provides such a comfort and reminds me of home. Maybe “home” is really where my book collection is.
So aside from a Guenther Grass and all those Weisse Massai books, I picked up Chasing the Sea by Tom Bissell. Bissell was a PCV in Uzbekistan in 1996 that ended up ETing (early terminating; or what I call “boomeranging,” which I definitely mean in the pejorative). Even though he only stayed seven months into service, he still managed to write a great book. It’s part travelogue, part memoir, part history, and part adventure story, as he returns to Uzbekistan five years later to examine the disappearance of the Aral Sea. Along the way, he recollects on his terminated service, details Central Asian history and introduces us to a whole set of characters and places that are at once exotic but yet familiar.
What I appreciate most is the parallels I can draw between his experiences there and mine here. I laughed out loud when he talked about how everyone knows where they’re going in Tashkent but no one knows where anything is (uhm, Tirana?!), or when he goes into detail about food preparation, PST and inter-PCV relationships, largely because it all seems so familiar. Part of me also wanted to read this because my first placement was to Central Asia (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan or Turkmenistan) and I often think about how different my experience would have been if I went there. This book gives me a lot to think about.
Deutscher Oktober
It’s a pretty big year for Germany: the Federal Republic has existed for 60 years, and in November, it will be 20 years since the Wall opened up and another domino in the series of events marking the end of communism fell.
Living abroad, one inevitably links other experiences abroad with current ones. How are things different? How are they the same? As I start to feel the crispiness of autumn air, I start to think about Germany once again.
Before I came here, I had been interested in seeing how I could use my languages and exploring cultural events. Luckily, I was placed close enough to Tirana to make this possible. When I visited the Germany Embassy’s website the other day, I was pleasantly surprised to see that there are two months of events commemorating this anniversary year. “Tetori Gjerman,” or German October, is the name of the collection of events taking place in October and November in various places throughout Tirana. There will be plays, movie screenings, concerts, photo exhibits, literature and poetry readings focusing on the end of communism in Germany and Albania. With some of my favorite subjects up for discussion, I’ve already planned on at least two trips to Tirana.
Living abroad, one inevitably links other experiences abroad with current ones. How are things different? How are they the same? As I start to feel the crispiness of autumn air, I start to think about Germany once again.
Before I came here, I had been interested in seeing how I could use my languages and exploring cultural events. Luckily, I was placed close enough to Tirana to make this possible. When I visited the Germany Embassy’s website the other day, I was pleasantly surprised to see that there are two months of events commemorating this anniversary year. “Tetori Gjerman,” or German October, is the name of the collection of events taking place in October and November in various places throughout Tirana. There will be plays, movie screenings, concerts, photo exhibits, literature and poetry readings focusing on the end of communism in Germany and Albania. With some of my favorite subjects up for discussion, I’ve already planned on at least two trips to Tirana.
Back to School, Back to School
Last week was the first week of school. On the first day, I saw male students hanging curtains up in their classroom and heard “Take My Breath Away” as a ringtone on someone’s cell phone. The first week was relatively uneventful and I haven’t had very much formal classroom work just yet. That will pick up once lessons start and all the organization, logistics, registration and getting to know you things are over. So far, I’ve been doing research on grants and thinking about needs assessment and project planning.
And again, it becomes very obvious to me that PCVs cast very long shadows. In my first weeks in Golem, I was told and often directly compared to the two previous volunteers. In the beginning, I thought a lot about how the other volunteers would influence the way people think of me. People here remember them so well that I feel like I almost know them, even though they’ve been gone for some years. Luckily, the comparisons made directly to my face have been favorable, and I get the feeling that I am very different from them both in personality and ambition.
As the year began, it was also time to reflect on the fact that I’ve been here for six months already and am rapidly approaching the ¼ pole of my service. Mostly when I think about all that’s been happening, it feels like it’s gone by so quickly. But when I think that I’ll be staying here for two whole school years, it seems like it’s going to be forever until my service is finished. Of course the reality of time and how it elapses is somewhere in the middle. There is reason to believe, however, that if the summer went by at lightning speed and I wasn’t working the entire time, now that I’m working full-time it is really going to fly.
On the six-month anniversary of my departure, I thought about that day and what I was doing in the days leading up to it. I thought a lot about my parents. You’d think, at this point, that I’d be used to being away. I lived in Germany twice and studied away from home, and I never felt a particular sense of homesickness. What I’m feeling now isn’t really homesickness either, but more like peoplesickness. I miss the people in my life more than any particular place. Living all over the world drastically changes your concept of “home.” Largely because the people are spread out and not concentrated in one specific place and neither are you.
I miss, in no particular order: strawberries; roughhousing with Fernie; dinner and hockey games and any subsequent screaming at the television, good or bad, emanating therefrom; eating steaks and Dad’s barbecued chicken from the grill on the back porch; movie nights, borderline-obsessive amounts of telephone calls with the only person that I’m ever on the phone with (ever); being told the same stories about taking the academic course when Grammy should have taken the homemaking course; being able to know exactly what a store has and knowing things will be in stock; meals that don’t require hours of preparation, i.e. things you can just serve from the freezer or a can after heating; real book stores; sidewalks; and ground beef.
Things that I have learned and loved, in no particular order: balconies; sea breezes; listening to music with the bus or furgon windows rolled down; bean byrek; Red Bull; my students and their dreams and inspirations; the Albanian language; drinking high-test coffee with my mom / colleagues / friends; the simple joy of shopping at EuroMax and finding things that remind you a little bit of home (wherever or whatever “home” is); $3 pizzas; petulla (it’s kind of like funnel cake, but better); and the ability of Albanians to do so much with what they have: some of them make their own cheese, yogurt, grow their own chickens, hatch their own eggs, and make their own bread. Although many people want nothing more than to come to America, there is so much to be said and appreciated about life here, and self-sufficiency is but one aspect of my admiration.
It’s also time to reflect about our purpose and our goals, professional and personal, and the progress that we’ve made on them. At this point, I recognize that I have a lot to learn and a lot I want to give, but I am very pleased with the experience so far.
And finally, I think about my parents. It’s hard for me to talk about them without getting overly emotional. The only difference between now and the other times I was away is that it’s for a long time and that I’m older. I had initially planned to go right from university into Peace Corps—and was crushed when my departure date got pushed back not once, but twice. But with the perspective that time provides, I can look back on those six months that I spent at home and be grateful for the blessing in disguise. I met a whole group of new people at my job at an afterschool program and I got to spend some additional time at home. There is no saying what the arrangements will be when I go home, and it’s very certain that I won’t be spending such a long clip of time at home again. But it’s only now until I can look at that experience and really appreciate it. So thank you.
And again, it becomes very obvious to me that PCVs cast very long shadows. In my first weeks in Golem, I was told and often directly compared to the two previous volunteers. In the beginning, I thought a lot about how the other volunteers would influence the way people think of me. People here remember them so well that I feel like I almost know them, even though they’ve been gone for some years. Luckily, the comparisons made directly to my face have been favorable, and I get the feeling that I am very different from them both in personality and ambition.
As the year began, it was also time to reflect on the fact that I’ve been here for six months already and am rapidly approaching the ¼ pole of my service. Mostly when I think about all that’s been happening, it feels like it’s gone by so quickly. But when I think that I’ll be staying here for two whole school years, it seems like it’s going to be forever until my service is finished. Of course the reality of time and how it elapses is somewhere in the middle. There is reason to believe, however, that if the summer went by at lightning speed and I wasn’t working the entire time, now that I’m working full-time it is really going to fly.
On the six-month anniversary of my departure, I thought about that day and what I was doing in the days leading up to it. I thought a lot about my parents. You’d think, at this point, that I’d be used to being away. I lived in Germany twice and studied away from home, and I never felt a particular sense of homesickness. What I’m feeling now isn’t really homesickness either, but more like peoplesickness. I miss the people in my life more than any particular place. Living all over the world drastically changes your concept of “home.” Largely because the people are spread out and not concentrated in one specific place and neither are you.
I miss, in no particular order: strawberries; roughhousing with Fernie; dinner and hockey games and any subsequent screaming at the television, good or bad, emanating therefrom; eating steaks and Dad’s barbecued chicken from the grill on the back porch; movie nights, borderline-obsessive amounts of telephone calls with the only person that I’m ever on the phone with (ever); being told the same stories about taking the academic course when Grammy should have taken the homemaking course; being able to know exactly what a store has and knowing things will be in stock; meals that don’t require hours of preparation, i.e. things you can just serve from the freezer or a can after heating; real book stores; sidewalks; and ground beef.
Things that I have learned and loved, in no particular order: balconies; sea breezes; listening to music with the bus or furgon windows rolled down; bean byrek; Red Bull; my students and their dreams and inspirations; the Albanian language; drinking high-test coffee with my mom / colleagues / friends; the simple joy of shopping at EuroMax and finding things that remind you a little bit of home (wherever or whatever “home” is); $3 pizzas; petulla (it’s kind of like funnel cake, but better); and the ability of Albanians to do so much with what they have: some of them make their own cheese, yogurt, grow their own chickens, hatch their own eggs, and make their own bread. Although many people want nothing more than to come to America, there is so much to be said and appreciated about life here, and self-sufficiency is but one aspect of my admiration.
It’s also time to reflect about our purpose and our goals, professional and personal, and the progress that we’ve made on them. At this point, I recognize that I have a lot to learn and a lot I want to give, but I am very pleased with the experience so far.
And finally, I think about my parents. It’s hard for me to talk about them without getting overly emotional. The only difference between now and the other times I was away is that it’s for a long time and that I’m older. I had initially planned to go right from university into Peace Corps—and was crushed when my departure date got pushed back not once, but twice. But with the perspective that time provides, I can look back on those six months that I spent at home and be grateful for the blessing in disguise. I met a whole group of new people at my job at an afterschool program and I got to spend some additional time at home. There is no saying what the arrangements will be when I go home, and it’s very certain that I won’t be spending such a long clip of time at home again. But it’s only now until I can look at that experience and really appreciate it. So thank you.
…many things, but never boring.
I always say that Albania is many things, but never boring. I’m in a constant state of learning and observing, and still in many ways feel like I’m a child again, having to learn a way of living from the start. Even the simplest of dialogues is a lesson for me: what are people saying? How are they saying it? What gestures are they using, and what do they mean? Is the conversation formal or informal? Everything from the start. It should go without saying that a lot of things are confusing or amusing in their originality as I continue to learn.
My friend visited a couple weeks ago and we decided to spend the day on the beach. As we sat in our chairs and opened up our impossibly heavy umbrella, I saw an animal being led on a leash. I have worn my sunglasses most of the summer and it’s no secret that I can’t see anything without them. But even my sorry, glassessless eyes could make the creature out: “Is that a be…,” I started, before cutting myself off to say: “Yeah, that’s definitely a bear on a chain.” It struck us as the oddest thing, largely because people are afraid of dogs here, and the ones that have dogs often don’t leash them. So what is this bear doing, walking up the beachside? Later, my host sister told us it was completely normal. “You can get you picture taken with it,” she said. “There’s a snake, too.” I don’t even want to think about the insurance issues that would present if one of those walked up and down Wildwood.
Later that night is when the real fun began. We walked down the beachfront to one of my favorite restaurants, only to find out the only food they had was spaghetti or tortellini with frutti di mare. We asked for just plain spaghetti with sauce. Didn’t have it. Pizzas? No, they didn’t have them either. Exasperated, the wheels began turning. “Wait,” I said. “Are we supposed to believe that they put seafood sauce on all the pasta they cooked? Why not just leave some of the pasta plain? I don’t understand!” At this point, though, we should know better. It’s late in the tourist season and menus are never what they seem, so I guess we shouldn’t have been so surprised. Instead of eating chopped up seafood, we left for another restaurant.
Mid-way through our meal, an adjacent table of middle to late middle aged men sent us a round of beers. At this point, I jokingly remarked that I liked “the one in the yellow shirt.” A few minutes later, they sent us over a round of ice creams, after which my host sister had to walk over to the table and thank them personally. Things got kicked up a notch when Yellow Shirt got up and walked over to the table. Kate told me that my chance had arrived. Yellow Shirt asked me for a dance, and when I rejected him several times even though he continued persisting and saying please, he said he’d be offended if I didn’t dance with him. So there I am, Peace Corps Volunteer, breaking out moves that I learned at my eighth grade dance on some Albanian that easily could have been on a Centrum Silver ad. As we turned in circle after circle, it became harder to see Kate and my host sister, largely because they had their backs to me and their faces buried in their hands with laughter. My exclamation telling them that Yellow Shirt had stepped on my toes twice only made them bury their faces deeper.
And I repeat: Albania is many things, but never, ever boring.
My friend visited a couple weeks ago and we decided to spend the day on the beach. As we sat in our chairs and opened up our impossibly heavy umbrella, I saw an animal being led on a leash. I have worn my sunglasses most of the summer and it’s no secret that I can’t see anything without them. But even my sorry, glassessless eyes could make the creature out: “Is that a be…,” I started, before cutting myself off to say: “Yeah, that’s definitely a bear on a chain.” It struck us as the oddest thing, largely because people are afraid of dogs here, and the ones that have dogs often don’t leash them. So what is this bear doing, walking up the beachside? Later, my host sister told us it was completely normal. “You can get you picture taken with it,” she said. “There’s a snake, too.” I don’t even want to think about the insurance issues that would present if one of those walked up and down Wildwood.
Later that night is when the real fun began. We walked down the beachfront to one of my favorite restaurants, only to find out the only food they had was spaghetti or tortellini with frutti di mare. We asked for just plain spaghetti with sauce. Didn’t have it. Pizzas? No, they didn’t have them either. Exasperated, the wheels began turning. “Wait,” I said. “Are we supposed to believe that they put seafood sauce on all the pasta they cooked? Why not just leave some of the pasta plain? I don’t understand!” At this point, though, we should know better. It’s late in the tourist season and menus are never what they seem, so I guess we shouldn’t have been so surprised. Instead of eating chopped up seafood, we left for another restaurant.
Mid-way through our meal, an adjacent table of middle to late middle aged men sent us a round of beers. At this point, I jokingly remarked that I liked “the one in the yellow shirt.” A few minutes later, they sent us over a round of ice creams, after which my host sister had to walk over to the table and thank them personally. Things got kicked up a notch when Yellow Shirt got up and walked over to the table. Kate told me that my chance had arrived. Yellow Shirt asked me for a dance, and when I rejected him several times even though he continued persisting and saying please, he said he’d be offended if I didn’t dance with him. So there I am, Peace Corps Volunteer, breaking out moves that I learned at my eighth grade dance on some Albanian that easily could have been on a Centrum Silver ad. As we turned in circle after circle, it became harder to see Kate and my host sister, largely because they had their backs to me and their faces buried in their hands with laughter. My exclamation telling them that Yellow Shirt had stepped on my toes twice only made them bury their faces deeper.
And I repeat: Albania is many things, but never, ever boring.
Normal!
I had a conversation with a friend the other day about blogging. “I haven’t written in my blog in over a month,” she told me. “I’m just as bad… I’ll go a month without writing anything, and then post several entries all at one time.” She said her parents would probably be annoyed that she hadn’t written much, which led me to say: “You know though… we can write, and write, and write… but no one will really understand what it’s like.”
I went on to elaborate that there’s no real way to try and describe what it’s like to live here, which I blame mostly on the fact that the things that seemed different and odd to us our first days here have now become to normal to us that we barely notice them. Chickens and livestock running all over the place? Huge holes in the sidewalk? Burning garbage? Extremely colorful houses? Water tanks on roofs? Water heaters in bathrooms? Water schedules? No clothes dryers? Salespeople walking through your village with a bullhorn, yelling that they have watermelon / fish / clothing for sale? All these are things that might have seemed foreign to us at first, but they’ve already sunken into our daily realities, so much so that we don’t even notice them anymore.
We are born in America and raised American, with the whole set of default programming that comes with that. We know how life is at home, but it’s hard to really think about what life in other countries is like, even when it comes to things as small as everyday logistics. So here are a few more things that might not be known:
1. Not every post office accepts packages. My site is so small that I have to travel to another town to get anything. And in general, I don’t think most people get much in the mail. Lucky them, they miss out on all that junk mail and advertising.
2. It’s common for ATMs to not work. Sometimes they just don’t work, but more often than not, they are just out of money. I’ve been told to arrive early in the day to increase my chances. My sister needed to take a significant amount of money out, but when she put the amount into the ATM, it said it didn’t work. When she tried a smaller amount, it did. Sometimes this means you have to try a few ATMs at a few different banks if you’re trying to get money after hours. In general though, the bank service is great and it’s easy to exchange money because of all the money being sent home by Albanians abroad.
3. Lining up. All I have to say is: thank god I spent time in Germany, because it’s good training for lines here. You’ve got to be brave and hold your ground, especially when it comes to that amazing byrek stand that I frequent in Elbasan.
4. WYSIWYG doesn’t always apply. Just because something is on a menu doesn’t mean it’s available. Just because a building is marked as a “bar / restaurant” doesn’t mean it has food. I’ve been to pizzerias that didn’t have pizza before… twice. This can lead to temporary heartache when the thing you really want can’t be had (more on that later).
5. Geography. One of the things that is completely underestimated about Albania is natural beauty. In just a half hour, you can go from miles of beaches to valleys lying between huge mountains. The landscape is green and flat for miles, until the valley floor meets the bottom of numerous peaks. In my first days here, I was most amazed at the land. I’m looking forward to discovering the nature that Albania has to offer.
I went on to elaborate that there’s no real way to try and describe what it’s like to live here, which I blame mostly on the fact that the things that seemed different and odd to us our first days here have now become to normal to us that we barely notice them. Chickens and livestock running all over the place? Huge holes in the sidewalk? Burning garbage? Extremely colorful houses? Water tanks on roofs? Water heaters in bathrooms? Water schedules? No clothes dryers? Salespeople walking through your village with a bullhorn, yelling that they have watermelon / fish / clothing for sale? All these are things that might have seemed foreign to us at first, but they’ve already sunken into our daily realities, so much so that we don’t even notice them anymore.
We are born in America and raised American, with the whole set of default programming that comes with that. We know how life is at home, but it’s hard to really think about what life in other countries is like, even when it comes to things as small as everyday logistics. So here are a few more things that might not be known:
1. Not every post office accepts packages. My site is so small that I have to travel to another town to get anything. And in general, I don’t think most people get much in the mail. Lucky them, they miss out on all that junk mail and advertising.
2. It’s common for ATMs to not work. Sometimes they just don’t work, but more often than not, they are just out of money. I’ve been told to arrive early in the day to increase my chances. My sister needed to take a significant amount of money out, but when she put the amount into the ATM, it said it didn’t work. When she tried a smaller amount, it did. Sometimes this means you have to try a few ATMs at a few different banks if you’re trying to get money after hours. In general though, the bank service is great and it’s easy to exchange money because of all the money being sent home by Albanians abroad.
3. Lining up. All I have to say is: thank god I spent time in Germany, because it’s good training for lines here. You’ve got to be brave and hold your ground, especially when it comes to that amazing byrek stand that I frequent in Elbasan.
4. WYSIWYG doesn’t always apply. Just because something is on a menu doesn’t mean it’s available. Just because a building is marked as a “bar / restaurant” doesn’t mean it has food. I’ve been to pizzerias that didn’t have pizza before… twice. This can lead to temporary heartache when the thing you really want can’t be had (more on that later).
5. Geography. One of the things that is completely underestimated about Albania is natural beauty. In just a half hour, you can go from miles of beaches to valleys lying between huge mountains. The landscape is green and flat for miles, until the valley floor meets the bottom of numerous peaks. In my first days here, I was most amazed at the land. I’m looking forward to discovering the nature that Albania has to offer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)