I’ve been silent for quite some time now. So what have I been doing? Packing, shipping my things, closing my service by doing administrative paperwork at the Peace Corps office, going to a wedding in Germany, a job interview in Frankfurt and a move to Krakow, Poland. That’s a lot in the six weeks since I left Albania.
I’ve been enjoying the great weather and the wide spread of cultural events in Krakow. This is exactly what I needed; a kind of coming in from the cultural cold. Krakow is a great city and I have no doubt that I would have enjoyed living and studying here. But the next phase of my life is beginning in July with permanent employment in Germany.
It’s funny the path that our lives take. One seemingly small decision leads to a whole different set of choices, and before you know it, you’re living abroad indefinitely and you have someone to share your life with. Not a bad result at all, considering I didn’t know exactly where Peace Corps service would lead me. I can’t wait to see what happens next.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
A Final Note on Language
One of my main goals for my service was to learn Albanian well. This was the main reasoning behind choosing to stay in a host family for the entire two years (I am the only volunteer out of 80 to do this). Staying in a host family was the best decision I made in these last two years and I am grateful for all the wonderful things they’ve done to me and the role they played in my time here. It is largely through their interactions with me that I was able to earn Advanced-Mid on my final Albanian test, which Peace Corps administered during our Close of Service conference. There are just two levels which are higher than my score, and overall this score is roughly equivalent to a bachelor’s degree in the language. Not too shabby.
Going forward, loss of linguistic ability is a concern. Of course I will correspond with my host family and I really intend on keeping the relationship going after I leave. It will take some effort to maintain my language though, and I’m not quite sure how I will go about it just yet.
And finally, something about the nature of Albanian: there is some element of this language that causes almost everyone’s voice to raise whenever they speak it. We’ve discussed this theory amongst friends before, and visitors have simultaneously made fun of and/or mocked me while listening to my “Albanian voice.” Carrie Ann also alleges that native English speakers who speak German as a second language also have a particular way of pronouncing things in Albanian. The verdict is out.
Going forward, loss of linguistic ability is a concern. Of course I will correspond with my host family and I really intend on keeping the relationship going after I leave. It will take some effort to maintain my language though, and I’m not quite sure how I will go about it just yet.
And finally, something about the nature of Albanian: there is some element of this language that causes almost everyone’s voice to raise whenever they speak it. We’ve discussed this theory amongst friends before, and visitors have simultaneously made fun of and/or mocked me while listening to my “Albanian voice.” Carrie Ann also alleges that native English speakers who speak German as a second language also have a particular way of pronouncing things in Albanian. The verdict is out.
Coming in from the Cold
With my tickets booked and my departure from Albania set for April 28th, it’s time to lift the slight veil of denial that I’ve been living under: I am leaving and it is going to be soon. The focus now shifts to finishing up all the administrative tasks, tying up all the loose ends and thinking about ways to say my goodbyes.
At our close of service conference in February, Peace Corps glazed over what will come to be the future realities for many of us. Amongst the areas of concern for volunteers ending their service are: loss of status, loss of community (other volunteers); loss of family; a change in lifestyle and routine; and general readjustment issues. Those are a lot of things to handle, which is probably one of the reasons that Peace Corps offers a voucher for three one-hour therapy sessions if necessary. We can talk all we want about the experience but it is very hard to find actual understanding amongst the ones we left behind all these months.
I just finished watching Lost, which is easily one of the best series I’ve ever watched. One of the main messages of the show is about life’s journey and the people that make our adventures so interesting. This Peace Corps experience has been a tremendous journey – emotionally, mentally and physically. And just like the experience on the island, my time here has been marked and colored by all the personal interactions and relationships I’ve had. You cannot separate the people from the experience.
It is time to think about the end and what comes next. For many of us, these answers are not clear. It’s a fact that exacerbates the angst and anxiety. We will return to the West and be thrust back into the American way of doing things – at a pace that we haven’t been accustomed to in some time. Returning home and trying to create some semblance of structure will be challenging. We are saying goodbye to 2-3 hour work days, coffees on the beach and traveling whenever we want. For those of us that derive so much satisfaction from work, the desire for routine and purpose is even more complicated considering the weak job market.
Aside from the fear comes the excitement and the pride. The excitement of being able to let go and embrace whatever comes next, even if it’s unknown. If there is one time in my life where I can afford to roll the dice and take a risk, it’s now. It is time to start the next chapter of my life, and although I can’t see it clearly, I can see the outline of what is in store and I am moving ever closer to it. I can also look back at this experience and think about the changes I’ve made and the work that I’ve done… and be proud.
I ran into an older volunteer at our Peace Corps dentist last week. “You’re going to Germany I hear,” she said. “I think that’s great for you. I think this experience has really opened you up. I was just telling someone that the other day.” I asked her what her plans were. “I don’t know, I was going to be home and be a grandma but I don’t think they will need me since my daughter-in-law has a job where she can stay home.” I said I was scared about not having a job and all the unknowing, but that I was just trying to let go, be open and go with the flow. “It’s amazing what will happen if you just let go… things have a way of working out,” she said. These types of sentiments have flavored a lot of my interactions the past few weeks and will continue long after I leave.
At our close of service conference in February, Peace Corps glazed over what will come to be the future realities for many of us. Amongst the areas of concern for volunteers ending their service are: loss of status, loss of community (other volunteers); loss of family; a change in lifestyle and routine; and general readjustment issues. Those are a lot of things to handle, which is probably one of the reasons that Peace Corps offers a voucher for three one-hour therapy sessions if necessary. We can talk all we want about the experience but it is very hard to find actual understanding amongst the ones we left behind all these months.
I just finished watching Lost, which is easily one of the best series I’ve ever watched. One of the main messages of the show is about life’s journey and the people that make our adventures so interesting. This Peace Corps experience has been a tremendous journey – emotionally, mentally and physically. And just like the experience on the island, my time here has been marked and colored by all the personal interactions and relationships I’ve had. You cannot separate the people from the experience.
It is time to think about the end and what comes next. For many of us, these answers are not clear. It’s a fact that exacerbates the angst and anxiety. We will return to the West and be thrust back into the American way of doing things – at a pace that we haven’t been accustomed to in some time. Returning home and trying to create some semblance of structure will be challenging. We are saying goodbye to 2-3 hour work days, coffees on the beach and traveling whenever we want. For those of us that derive so much satisfaction from work, the desire for routine and purpose is even more complicated considering the weak job market.
Aside from the fear comes the excitement and the pride. The excitement of being able to let go and embrace whatever comes next, even if it’s unknown. If there is one time in my life where I can afford to roll the dice and take a risk, it’s now. It is time to start the next chapter of my life, and although I can’t see it clearly, I can see the outline of what is in store and I am moving ever closer to it. I can also look back at this experience and think about the changes I’ve made and the work that I’ve done… and be proud.
I ran into an older volunteer at our Peace Corps dentist last week. “You’re going to Germany I hear,” she said. “I think that’s great for you. I think this experience has really opened you up. I was just telling someone that the other day.” I asked her what her plans were. “I don’t know, I was going to be home and be a grandma but I don’t think they will need me since my daughter-in-law has a job where she can stay home.” I said I was scared about not having a job and all the unknowing, but that I was just trying to let go, be open and go with the flow. “It’s amazing what will happen if you just let go… things have a way of working out,” she said. These types of sentiments have flavored a lot of my interactions the past few weeks and will continue long after I leave.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Intercultural Differences Manifested in Public Transportation Etiquette
In the very first episode of 30 Rock, there is a scene where Liz Lemon is waiting in line for a hotdog when someone cuts in front of her. She is annoyed at the lack of consideration. When the person refuses to acknowledge their rudeness, Liz decides to purchase all of the vendor’s hotdogs and distributes them to all the other people who were waiting patiently in line. Liz is driven by the concept of order, respect for a set of rules and for consideration.
Which really makes me wonder how Liz Lemon would fare on Albanian public transportation.
Spring has sprung in Albania, and when I say “spring,” I really mean “the two weeks between winter and summer.” And with it comes the seasonal transportation annoyance of the despicable lot that I like to call the “window shutters.”
In German, you tell someone “es zieht,” (“it pulls,” which means “there’s a draft.”) If you are riding in a car and you open the window, of course there will be a draft. But it’s been my experience that unlike in the US, when you open a window in a car traveling in Germany, there is this really strange sound that occurs which is extremely unpleasant to the ears. I swear, I’ve never had this same thing happen in the US. So maybe it’s not the draft so much as the sound associated with it.
In Romanian, it’s “current.” Priscilla tells me of her time working in her family’s bakery in upstate New York: “…Romanians… it was 200 degrees in the bakery, and we HAD TO SHUT the door.” These rules count even in summer.
Albanians just tell you to close the window. Not only that, but they will also demand (because they speak in the imperative form quite frequently, even to strangers) that you “not open it at all.” There are two problems with that. Firstly, traveling in a packed bus or furgon with no windows is incredibly unpleasant and frequently offensive to the nose. Secondly, Albanians will still dress with dress pants and jackets well into the summer months, which makes very little sense. But the most terrible, most unforgivable, are the window shutters.
I had my first window shutting incident of the season two days ago. On an almost empty bus, I carefully scoped out a seat next to one of the rear, overhead windows. I sat there specifically because there were only two windows that opened on the whole bus and I wanted to maximize my airflow. A perfect plan that completely goes awry. Even though there are a ton of empty seats, one woman and her daughter sit across the aisle from me. The bus quickly fills up and it starts to get warm, at which point the woman decides to close the window. And not only close it, but demand that it be kept completely shut.
Now, this annoys me. There were a zillion different seats. And also, there are 40 other people on the bus. Like Liz Lemon, I get annoyed with this kind of behavior. I am hot, I am cranky and I am annoyed at what I perceive as inconsideration. If this were New York and we were in line for hot dogs, I would have bought all of them just on principle. Instead, I did the next best thing and started a verbal tiff with the woman. I’m normally non-confrontational, and my American style forces me to be polite and accept the rude behavior of others rather than call them out, even though it makes me miserable to do so. So I yelled at her and told her that she wasn’t the only person on the bus, and that if the window was a problem, maybe she should have sat somewhere else. She acted like she couldn’t understand me, so the bus boy took the opportunity to translate and lay into her a little bit too as a bead of sweat dripped off of him. I’m probably going to write it down in my final Peace Corps trimester report: “cultural exchange with host country nationals about open window travel policy.”
Which really makes me wonder how Liz Lemon would fare on Albanian public transportation.
Spring has sprung in Albania, and when I say “spring,” I really mean “the two weeks between winter and summer.” And with it comes the seasonal transportation annoyance of the despicable lot that I like to call the “window shutters.”
In German, you tell someone “es zieht,” (“it pulls,” which means “there’s a draft.”) If you are riding in a car and you open the window, of course there will be a draft. But it’s been my experience that unlike in the US, when you open a window in a car traveling in Germany, there is this really strange sound that occurs which is extremely unpleasant to the ears. I swear, I’ve never had this same thing happen in the US. So maybe it’s not the draft so much as the sound associated with it.
In Romanian, it’s “current.” Priscilla tells me of her time working in her family’s bakery in upstate New York: “…Romanians… it was 200 degrees in the bakery, and we HAD TO SHUT the door.” These rules count even in summer.
Albanians just tell you to close the window. Not only that, but they will also demand (because they speak in the imperative form quite frequently, even to strangers) that you “not open it at all.” There are two problems with that. Firstly, traveling in a packed bus or furgon with no windows is incredibly unpleasant and frequently offensive to the nose. Secondly, Albanians will still dress with dress pants and jackets well into the summer months, which makes very little sense. But the most terrible, most unforgivable, are the window shutters.
I had my first window shutting incident of the season two days ago. On an almost empty bus, I carefully scoped out a seat next to one of the rear, overhead windows. I sat there specifically because there were only two windows that opened on the whole bus and I wanted to maximize my airflow. A perfect plan that completely goes awry. Even though there are a ton of empty seats, one woman and her daughter sit across the aisle from me. The bus quickly fills up and it starts to get warm, at which point the woman decides to close the window. And not only close it, but demand that it be kept completely shut.
Now, this annoys me. There were a zillion different seats. And also, there are 40 other people on the bus. Like Liz Lemon, I get annoyed with this kind of behavior. I am hot, I am cranky and I am annoyed at what I perceive as inconsideration. If this were New York and we were in line for hot dogs, I would have bought all of them just on principle. Instead, I did the next best thing and started a verbal tiff with the woman. I’m normally non-confrontational, and my American style forces me to be polite and accept the rude behavior of others rather than call them out, even though it makes me miserable to do so. So I yelled at her and told her that she wasn’t the only person on the bus, and that if the window was a problem, maybe she should have sat somewhere else. She acted like she couldn’t understand me, so the bus boy took the opportunity to translate and lay into her a little bit too as a bead of sweat dripped off of him. I’m probably going to write it down in my final Peace Corps trimester report: “cultural exchange with host country nationals about open window travel policy.”
Stiff
I first heard of Mary Roach sometime in this past year, when her book Packing for Mars was reviewed by the New York Times. The idea of space travel and an examination on all the details into it, and it’s a book that I’m very much looking forward to reading.
In the meantime, I picked up a copy of Stiff, Roach’s 2003 work that explores cadavers and everything associated with them. Roach has managed to take a rather morbid subject and not only make it interesting and readable, but very amusing at times.
She talks to experts across the world about various topics, including: dissection, autopsies, the various stages of decomposition and how they are used by forensic scientists in crime scene investigations, cadavers and their various uses in medical schools, how bodies helped reveal what happened to TWA Flight 800, ballistics tests fired into gelatin with the consistency of a human thigh and how organ recovery procedures are done. Roach is more than capable of addressing all these issues and supplements them with extensive historical information.
Perhaps the most interesting question is metaphysical. How do we define “death”? Legally, it is most commonly defined as the death of the brain. This creates a problem in organ recovery operations, considering that doctors sometimes have to remove a living, beating heart.
Part of this is a larger, metaphysical discussion about personhood and the concept of a human soul. Are you your body, or are you your thoughts? Which one is more likely to make you who you are and how you choose to identify yourself? I’m reminded of a film that we had to watch once in enrichment called Who is Julia?. At the time, we made relentless fun of the low-quality video and melodramatic acting, but maybe the ethical issues the movie raises will actually be valid in the future. If science someday allows full brain transplants (and perhaps the spinal surgery abilities will also allow transplantees full use of their limbs), what will happen to the recipients? What might happen to a brain put into a new body? Are you still you? How, and to what extent?
“You’re dealing with an operation that is totally revolutionary,” one expert says of a potential human head transplant. “People can’t make up their minds whether it’s a total body transplant or a head transplant, a brain or even a soul transplant” (p. 215).
One thing is for certain though: death does not have to be the end. Roach points out that there are over 80,000 people waiting for organs in the US as of 2003, with 16 of them dying every day (p. 195). The organ recovery which Roach witnessed saw one donor give their heart, liver and kidneys so that three other people could have their lives extended. I can’t think of a more significant gift than that of one’s organs – it is giving a stranger the gift of time.
In the meantime, I picked up a copy of Stiff, Roach’s 2003 work that explores cadavers and everything associated with them. Roach has managed to take a rather morbid subject and not only make it interesting and readable, but very amusing at times.
She talks to experts across the world about various topics, including: dissection, autopsies, the various stages of decomposition and how they are used by forensic scientists in crime scene investigations, cadavers and their various uses in medical schools, how bodies helped reveal what happened to TWA Flight 800, ballistics tests fired into gelatin with the consistency of a human thigh and how organ recovery procedures are done. Roach is more than capable of addressing all these issues and supplements them with extensive historical information.
Perhaps the most interesting question is metaphysical. How do we define “death”? Legally, it is most commonly defined as the death of the brain. This creates a problem in organ recovery operations, considering that doctors sometimes have to remove a living, beating heart.
Part of this is a larger, metaphysical discussion about personhood and the concept of a human soul. Are you your body, or are you your thoughts? Which one is more likely to make you who you are and how you choose to identify yourself? I’m reminded of a film that we had to watch once in enrichment called Who is Julia?. At the time, we made relentless fun of the low-quality video and melodramatic acting, but maybe the ethical issues the movie raises will actually be valid in the future. If science someday allows full brain transplants (and perhaps the spinal surgery abilities will also allow transplantees full use of their limbs), what will happen to the recipients? What might happen to a brain put into a new body? Are you still you? How, and to what extent?
“You’re dealing with an operation that is totally revolutionary,” one expert says of a potential human head transplant. “People can’t make up their minds whether it’s a total body transplant or a head transplant, a brain or even a soul transplant” (p. 215).
One thing is for certain though: death does not have to be the end. Roach points out that there are over 80,000 people waiting for organs in the US as of 2003, with 16 of them dying every day (p. 195). The organ recovery which Roach witnessed saw one donor give their heart, liver and kidneys so that three other people could have their lives extended. I can’t think of a more significant gift than that of one’s organs – it is giving a stranger the gift of time.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
DaF City
Something always happens. My flight was supposed to leave at 12:30PM, so of course that meant I left my house around 7AM to leave enough time. Because yes, something always happens. After waiting on the side of the road for an inexplicable half hour while being rained on, a bus took me to Tirana. I got in the city bus and was on it for a mere five minutes before I realized my wallet was missing. I ran back to the main bus station but I hadn’t left my wallet behind. Like many Albanians would later do, the driver asked me where I was and then scolded me for using the city busses, which are “full of thieves.” This would have been helpful information years ago. In a panic, I texted my parents to cancel my cards; called Peace Corps and then called my friend Amanda who paid for my taxi and lent me some money. And there I was again, completely losing it in a public place again like I’ve done so many times here as I uncontrollably sobbed during my taxi ride to the center.
Then came to delayed flights, a Kosovar shooting Americans in the Frankfurt Airport shortly before I arrived, and a spontaneous trip around the city trying to find an internet café to get new credit card numbers to pay for my room. I asked some local teenagers where I might find an internet café since I’m used to them being all over in Albania, and they told me: “Just keep going straight down the main road until you run into the red light district.” Good advice.
Frankfurt doesn’t feel like any other German city, especially from an architectural perspective. Seat of the European Central Bank and the German Federal Bank, Frankfurt is the main financial and transportation center of Germany. Walking around the streets and interacting with people, two things became clear: German is a minority language in Frankfurt and also, no one is really from Frankfurt. It’s a city of transplants it seems. “DaF” is the abbreviation for “Deutsch als Fremdsprache,” or “German as a Foreign Language,” and that is certainly the case here as I watched two Russians order vodka and coffee from an Indian while the three of them spoke German. Or when my friend and I had a conversation about German asylum policy in a hybrid of English and German with our sushi chef from Burma. “We have salmon, tuna and tintenfisch,” he told us as we looked on the menu outside. And yet this combination of the two languages made perfect sense.
Of course there were adjustments to make as well. The infrastructure, all the people and the pace of the city were overwhelming. I found myself asking a lot of people if I bought the right train tickets or if I was traveling in the right direction. This was complicated by the fact that my spoke German is embarrassingly rusty although I have access to a perfect language partner on a daily basis. I also found myself wondering if Frankfurt is that multicultural or if I have just been in an ethnically homogenous country (98% of people in Albania are Albanians) for too long. I was also spoiled by being able to sleep without socks on in winter and not having to fear getting flattened when crossing the street.
Overall, it was nice to get the chance to see a new city and interview. I found out yesterday that although I was one of the final four applicants, I didn’t get the job. It was difficult for me but after a day of wallowing I am ready to start focusing on finding something new as my time in Albania drifts toward the one month mark. I really don’t know where this path will lead me, but in the last couple months I’ve been given a new reason to stay in Europe and I want to do my best to make sure I can stay here.
Then came to delayed flights, a Kosovar shooting Americans in the Frankfurt Airport shortly before I arrived, and a spontaneous trip around the city trying to find an internet café to get new credit card numbers to pay for my room. I asked some local teenagers where I might find an internet café since I’m used to them being all over in Albania, and they told me: “Just keep going straight down the main road until you run into the red light district.” Good advice.
Frankfurt doesn’t feel like any other German city, especially from an architectural perspective. Seat of the European Central Bank and the German Federal Bank, Frankfurt is the main financial and transportation center of Germany. Walking around the streets and interacting with people, two things became clear: German is a minority language in Frankfurt and also, no one is really from Frankfurt. It’s a city of transplants it seems. “DaF” is the abbreviation for “Deutsch als Fremdsprache,” or “German as a Foreign Language,” and that is certainly the case here as I watched two Russians order vodka and coffee from an Indian while the three of them spoke German. Or when my friend and I had a conversation about German asylum policy in a hybrid of English and German with our sushi chef from Burma. “We have salmon, tuna and tintenfisch,” he told us as we looked on the menu outside. And yet this combination of the two languages made perfect sense.
Of course there were adjustments to make as well. The infrastructure, all the people and the pace of the city were overwhelming. I found myself asking a lot of people if I bought the right train tickets or if I was traveling in the right direction. This was complicated by the fact that my spoke German is embarrassingly rusty although I have access to a perfect language partner on a daily basis. I also found myself wondering if Frankfurt is that multicultural or if I have just been in an ethnically homogenous country (98% of people in Albania are Albanians) for too long. I was also spoiled by being able to sleep without socks on in winter and not having to fear getting flattened when crossing the street.
Overall, it was nice to get the chance to see a new city and interview. I found out yesterday that although I was one of the final four applicants, I didn’t get the job. It was difficult for me but after a day of wallowing I am ready to start focusing on finding something new as my time in Albania drifts toward the one month mark. I really don’t know where this path will lead me, but in the last couple months I’ve been given a new reason to stay in Europe and I want to do my best to make sure I can stay here.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Frankfurt
So much is going on right now. The pages of notes I have for entries continue to pile up and hopefully I will get to them in the near future. However, the big news is that I’ve reached the final round of interviews for a translation/editing position in Frankfurt. I leave Albania tomorrow and will spend a few days there for an on-site interview.
This is all pretty unexpected. On one hand, I’m so excited and hopeful; making plans about what my potential future could be like. On the other, I’m terrified to get my hopes up too high and want to be realistic about things. I’m walking a line straight through the middle. At the very least, I’ll see a new city and get valuable interview practice (not to mention having a great visit while I’m there, too). If that’s the very least I walk away with from all of this, I will still be happy. There is time to make other plans and arrangements if it doesn’t work and I am feeling positive.
It will also be a good trial run. Aside from my trip to the US in October, I haven’t spent any time in the West the last two years. The way things are done in the East, and especially in developing countries, is incredibly different. I don’t worry so much about potential culture shock, but I do worry about my abilities to adapt and adjust back to Western life. I spent more time than I’d care to mention analyzing the Frankfurt city rail map and feeling confused and overwhelmed. Street names? Infrastructure? Things that run on somewhat of a set schedule? With set prices?
It’s keeping these things in mind that makes me think I’ll continue this blog for at least a few months after I go back to the West, if only to keep track of all the confusion in my head when I have to re-learn how I used to live.
This is all pretty unexpected. On one hand, I’m so excited and hopeful; making plans about what my potential future could be like. On the other, I’m terrified to get my hopes up too high and want to be realistic about things. I’m walking a line straight through the middle. At the very least, I’ll see a new city and get valuable interview practice (not to mention having a great visit while I’m there, too). If that’s the very least I walk away with from all of this, I will still be happy. There is time to make other plans and arrangements if it doesn’t work and I am feeling positive.
It will also be a good trial run. Aside from my trip to the US in October, I haven’t spent any time in the West the last two years. The way things are done in the East, and especially in developing countries, is incredibly different. I don’t worry so much about potential culture shock, but I do worry about my abilities to adapt and adjust back to Western life. I spent more time than I’d care to mention analyzing the Frankfurt city rail map and feeling confused and overwhelmed. Street names? Infrastructure? Things that run on somewhat of a set schedule? With set prices?
It’s keeping these things in mind that makes me think I’ll continue this blog for at least a few months after I go back to the West, if only to keep track of all the confusion in my head when I have to re-learn how I used to live.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)