There is a point, in the eternal ebb and flow of human connections, where two people come to the end of their common and temporary journeys. What started as a crack becomes a crevasse; a small cut becomes an open, infected wound. Neither of these things heals.
This ugliness that has sprouted up between us casts a shadow now and will continue to do so. It’s terribly sad, but perhaps inevitable. I have faith in better days ahead after the rain has passed by.
My friend I will tell you, because I love you even if you forsake me, that there is a price for everything in this world. There is a price that comes with solitude; it’s alienation. Let your friends in, no one is so strong to never need anything from anyone.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
I’m right here!
I remember how it used to be Germany, back when I was a student there. I would be with a group of friends and a person would approach us.
“Can she speak German?” they’d ask my friends, even though I was standing right there.
Most of the time, they would tell the person to ask me on their own.
The same is occasionally the case here. Today I was working in the school’s main office, which is where my host mom works. When I’m on the computer using the internet, she is sitting right behind me at her desk. Someone comes into the office and tells my mom, “Oh, look how nice she [me] is dressed!” A little later, a colleague comes in and tells my mom, “Oh, she [me] is dressed so nicely today. She [me] has lost weight!” My mom informed her that, “she [me] doesn’t eat bread. Ever.” “What about pasta and rice?” my colleague asked. “Sometimes, but never a lot,” my mom said.
Not only am I there, in the room, not only can I hear you, but I can also understand you. But thanks for the compliments, though.
It goes both ways though. They will tell you you are fat and suggest that you don’t eat. Body image is something I’ll address in another post. They will ask you what you bought and how much it costs, and suggest other places to go if they think you paid too much. My sister told me that my skirt needed ironed this morning, even though I’ve already been Pavloved into ironing every morning anyhow.
Which brings me to some comments about clothing. When I first came to Albania, I wasn’t concerned about losing or gaining weight. They told us that women usually gain during training and then lose a little once they are on site. I just hoped that I wouldn’t gain so much that my dress clothes wouldn’t fit. It’s difficult anywhere to find pants that fit well, and that’s coming from a country with millions of stores and shopping malls. As the air becomes more crisp, I decided to try on my dress pants and think about getting ready for winter. Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting losing too much weight to fit into my clothes. Out of five pairs of slacks, only two could really work as they are now. My favorite pair, the classiest, needs to be taken in at least three or four inches at the waist. This is a problem that I’m not accustomed to.
And speaking of dressing, people dress very nice here. It is important to look good and people put a lot of work into it. I like it. Of course, it goes without saying that some volunteers, quite frankly, dress like dirtbags. It’s incredibly off-putting and fits the stereotypes that many people have about Americans when it comes to our overall laziness. Granted, I would never have won any best dressed awards during my life and especially during my Philly years, but that was then. In the law firm and at my Berlin office, I dressed well. In Albania, it’s been taken to a completely different level. And it’s good that way. I take time and spend money to get nice clothes, I iron them every morning and I spend more than the usual five minutes on my appearance (ok, so it’s more like fifteen, but still). I recently had a discussion about the self-confidence that dressing well gives you, and it’s something I never really appreciated before. I think people have a tendency to associate dressing well with being uncomfortable, but that isn’t really the case. It’s not going to hurt us to dress like Albanians for our time here.
“Can she speak German?” they’d ask my friends, even though I was standing right there.
Most of the time, they would tell the person to ask me on their own.
The same is occasionally the case here. Today I was working in the school’s main office, which is where my host mom works. When I’m on the computer using the internet, she is sitting right behind me at her desk. Someone comes into the office and tells my mom, “Oh, look how nice she [me] is dressed!” A little later, a colleague comes in and tells my mom, “Oh, she [me] is dressed so nicely today. She [me] has lost weight!” My mom informed her that, “she [me] doesn’t eat bread. Ever.” “What about pasta and rice?” my colleague asked. “Sometimes, but never a lot,” my mom said.
Not only am I there, in the room, not only can I hear you, but I can also understand you. But thanks for the compliments, though.
It goes both ways though. They will tell you you are fat and suggest that you don’t eat. Body image is something I’ll address in another post. They will ask you what you bought and how much it costs, and suggest other places to go if they think you paid too much. My sister told me that my skirt needed ironed this morning, even though I’ve already been Pavloved into ironing every morning anyhow.
Which brings me to some comments about clothing. When I first came to Albania, I wasn’t concerned about losing or gaining weight. They told us that women usually gain during training and then lose a little once they are on site. I just hoped that I wouldn’t gain so much that my dress clothes wouldn’t fit. It’s difficult anywhere to find pants that fit well, and that’s coming from a country with millions of stores and shopping malls. As the air becomes more crisp, I decided to try on my dress pants and think about getting ready for winter. Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting losing too much weight to fit into my clothes. Out of five pairs of slacks, only two could really work as they are now. My favorite pair, the classiest, needs to be taken in at least three or four inches at the waist. This is a problem that I’m not accustomed to.
And speaking of dressing, people dress very nice here. It is important to look good and people put a lot of work into it. I like it. Of course, it goes without saying that some volunteers, quite frankly, dress like dirtbags. It’s incredibly off-putting and fits the stereotypes that many people have about Americans when it comes to our overall laziness. Granted, I would never have won any best dressed awards during my life and especially during my Philly years, but that was then. In the law firm and at my Berlin office, I dressed well. In Albania, it’s been taken to a completely different level. And it’s good that way. I take time and spend money to get nice clothes, I iron them every morning and I spend more than the usual five minutes on my appearance (ok, so it’s more like fifteen, but still). I recently had a discussion about the self-confidence that dressing well gives you, and it’s something I never really appreciated before. I think people have a tendency to associate dressing well with being uncomfortable, but that isn’t really the case. It’s not going to hurt us to dress like Albanians for our time here.
The Lost Lesson
Last Friday was going to be the day. I would finally get in front of a class and be able to teach a lesson. In honor of European Day of Languages (26 September every year), I was going to teach a special lesson to a pre-selected group of students. The director signed off his approval to pull students out of class.
“Supposed to” are the keywords here.
I had just finished creating my teaching aides when my phone rang. It was a volunteer from Durres telling me we were having an emergency drill and I had to leave for Durres. Emergency plans are in place in every Peace Corps country in the event of disaster and political and social upheaval. In the event of an emergency, groups of volunteers travel to centralized locations and wait for direction.
There went my lesson, up in smoke.
The good to come out of it was that we got to talk with some Peace Corps staff responsible for safety and security, and they are two of the most awesome people in the Tirana office. I also got to network with another volunteer about potential projects in Durres, which comes at a good time because I am starting to get a little antsy.
“Supposed to” are the keywords here.
I had just finished creating my teaching aides when my phone rang. It was a volunteer from Durres telling me we were having an emergency drill and I had to leave for Durres. Emergency plans are in place in every Peace Corps country in the event of disaster and political and social upheaval. In the event of an emergency, groups of volunteers travel to centralized locations and wait for direction.
There went my lesson, up in smoke.
The good to come out of it was that we got to talk with some Peace Corps staff responsible for safety and security, and they are two of the most awesome people in the Tirana office. I also got to network with another volunteer about potential projects in Durres, which comes at a good time because I am starting to get a little antsy.
NHL Apparel
I’ve seen some random NHL apparel here. When I was shopping at the second hand market in Kavaje, I spotted one of those hideous RBK Islanders jerseys. I bought a Red Wings Stanley Cup champion t-shirt at one of those same markets. And the other day, a student walked into the office in a Wings shirt. I doubt seriously if anyone knows what these teams really are. Which only breaks my heart even more as the first of two lost seasons for me opens.
But the best display of NHL apparel was what I saw today. Now, it’s not a secret that there are a lot of traffic accidents here. Turn on the news and you can see the latest horrors. But for all the accidents, there are infinite amounts of near misses. Sitting in the furgon on my way to Durres I saw a bunch of stopped cars. Apparently the cause for the stoppage was a car that tried to make a spontaneous u-turn and timed it badly. Although there was no accident, it must have come very close to taking out a car traveling in the opposite direction. The driver of the car making the u-turn was out of his car, along with his wife, and screaming in the face of another driver.
The driver that made the u-turn? A 350 pound Italian wearing a red number 23. I know he was huge because I could see him, and I know he was Italian because I could hear him. Seeing the number and the color scheme, I thought to myself, “Oh God, I really, really hope…” And my wish was granted when we got closer: on the back of the mammoth Italian was a #23 Scott Gomez New Jersey Devils t-shirt. I guess I could make a joke about shouting, overweight Italians that are Devils fans, but that would almost be too obvious, wouldn’t it?
But the best display of NHL apparel was what I saw today. Now, it’s not a secret that there are a lot of traffic accidents here. Turn on the news and you can see the latest horrors. But for all the accidents, there are infinite amounts of near misses. Sitting in the furgon on my way to Durres I saw a bunch of stopped cars. Apparently the cause for the stoppage was a car that tried to make a spontaneous u-turn and timed it badly. Although there was no accident, it must have come very close to taking out a car traveling in the opposite direction. The driver of the car making the u-turn was out of his car, along with his wife, and screaming in the face of another driver.
The driver that made the u-turn? A 350 pound Italian wearing a red number 23. I know he was huge because I could see him, and I know he was Italian because I could hear him. Seeing the number and the color scheme, I thought to myself, “Oh God, I really, really hope…” And my wish was granted when we got closer: on the back of the mammoth Italian was a #23 Scott Gomez New Jersey Devils t-shirt. I guess I could make a joke about shouting, overweight Italians that are Devils fans, but that would almost be too obvious, wouldn’t it?
This n’ That
Somewhere in all of this updating, I forgot to mention that I have officially experienced my first earthquake. There were a string of them throughout Albania at the beginning of September, and I was on the phone when I felt it. On the other end of the phone line, the quake was much more obvious. On my end, it was nothing more than a swaying back and forth for about 15 seconds. That doesn’t mean it was pleasant, though.
A few summers ago, my parents and I were vacationing at the beach. My dad took a nap in the hotel, and when he began to snore, my mom jabbed him with her elbow and said her usual “Steve, you’re snoring!” line. My dad woke up and told her that wasn’t snoring, he was “purring.” It’s become a long-running joke in our family. So imagine how hard I laughed when I was studying an Albanian verb book and found out that the word “gërhas” means “to snore, to purr.”
My sister and I were getting ready to go somewhere and I had my iPod on shuffle. Bohemian Rhapsody came up. In the middle of my air guitaring, I asked her if she ever heard it before. She hadn’t. I was in disbelief. Later on, I played what I thought was a somewhat obscure Spanish-language song called, “Porque te vas.” “Oh, I love this song,” she said. And again, I was in disbelief.
My village’s Avon representative is my ten-year-old student. Again, disbelief. “I want to be a lawyer. Or… how do I say it?... like a person who is a manager,” she told me during our “Professions” lesson. During a recent European geography lesson, I asked if she knew what was happening in Germany. “Yes… on Sunday they will have the election. I think Merkel will win.” Consider my mind blown, especially when she followed that up by telling me she tries to watch a half hour of English-language news a day.
Spanish-language telenovelas are incredibly, incredibly popular here.
A few summers ago, my parents and I were vacationing at the beach. My dad took a nap in the hotel, and when he began to snore, my mom jabbed him with her elbow and said her usual “Steve, you’re snoring!” line. My dad woke up and told her that wasn’t snoring, he was “purring.” It’s become a long-running joke in our family. So imagine how hard I laughed when I was studying an Albanian verb book and found out that the word “gërhas” means “to snore, to purr.”
My sister and I were getting ready to go somewhere and I had my iPod on shuffle. Bohemian Rhapsody came up. In the middle of my air guitaring, I asked her if she ever heard it before. She hadn’t. I was in disbelief. Later on, I played what I thought was a somewhat obscure Spanish-language song called, “Porque te vas.” “Oh, I love this song,” she said. And again, I was in disbelief.
My village’s Avon representative is my ten-year-old student. Again, disbelief. “I want to be a lawyer. Or… how do I say it?... like a person who is a manager,” she told me during our “Professions” lesson. During a recent European geography lesson, I asked if she knew what was happening in Germany. “Yes… on Sunday they will have the election. I think Merkel will win.” Consider my mind blown, especially when she followed that up by telling me she tries to watch a half hour of English-language news a day.
Spanish-language telenovelas are incredibly, incredibly popular here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)