I get a lot of advice about my future from people I know and don’t know. My host families have already told me to marry here and stay in Albania forever. But my favorite is when random strangers, after finding out that I can speak Albanian but that I’m American, compliment me profusely and then advise me to “find an Albanian husband, and stay here forever.” “Forever” is the word they always use.
On Friday, I was coming back from the beach when I met my host mom in the middle of the road. She was getting a ride to the store from a man I’ve never seen before. After exchanging a few words, he followed up with the usual: “Very, very good. Just marry and Albanian man and stay here forever!”
I always find it amusing and well-intentioned. Can you imagine an American telling foreign young women to marry an American man and stay there forever? Haha. It knows no limits, which only makes it funnier. A furgon driver who was in the middle of ripping me off was telling me that I was Albanian-American, because I spoke Albanian, and told me to get married and stay here. Uh, buddy, if you’re saying this in the middle of ripping me off, especially when I’m in a hurry, you’re not making a very strong case, are you?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
“Here you will find many treasures”
- Albanian music channel playing “That Don’t Impress me Much”
- A random donkey walking by itself up the beach
- A group of three children, all around 6 or 7 years old, coaxing a milking cow up a steep hill
- A set of teeth that resemble those Billy Bob gag teeth from grocery store machines… randomly lying on the pavement. Uh, sir, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you lost your teeth.
- A dead, rigor mortised cat lying on a pile of bricks on the side of the road. Uhm.
- My neighbor. If the chickens and roosters next door aren’t already enough, she talks to her animals. She makes sounds when she feeds them and goes through an entire playlist of sounds. My favorite is when she says, “ben, ben, ben, ben” over and over again. I need to make a recording. “Chook, chook, chook” is a close second in terms of my personal favorites. It usually continues for five to ten minutes.
- A random donkey walking by itself up the beach
- A group of three children, all around 6 or 7 years old, coaxing a milking cow up a steep hill
- A set of teeth that resemble those Billy Bob gag teeth from grocery store machines… randomly lying on the pavement. Uh, sir, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you lost your teeth.
- A dead, rigor mortised cat lying on a pile of bricks on the side of the road. Uhm.
- My neighbor. If the chickens and roosters next door aren’t already enough, she talks to her animals. She makes sounds when she feeds them and goes through an entire playlist of sounds. My favorite is when she says, “ben, ben, ben, ben” over and over again. I need to make a recording. “Chook, chook, chook” is a close second in terms of my personal favorites. It usually continues for five to ten minutes.
The Beach
I’ve mentioned countless times that summer in Albania is slow, which is not a bad thing at all. A normal day for me is two hours of lessons, after which I come home to drink coffee with my host sister, then I do some work, eat, nap, read, write and lesson plan. I cook with my host mom as well, which should provide the practical training I’ll need to open an Albanian-fusion restaurant once I come back home.
I also go to the beach, since it’s a ten minute walk from my house. You pay $3 to rent an umbrella and two chairs, and there’s a ton of restaurants and hotels on the beach front to get food. We always go to a little restaurant on the beach and get sandwiches of tomato, cucumber, “ham” and French fries (yes, the fries are in the sandwich) for $1. The waiter there is friendly and anxious to practice his English. “Can I make you a question?” he asked. “What is better—Albanian fast food or American? Because I have heard that American fast food is the best.” He found little disagreement from a group of Americans that would kill puppies for a real hamburger.
When I tell my colleagues at school that I went to the beach, they tell me I’m still white. Random strangers will say, “Oh, how white!” to me. Yes, I know that I’m white. Like, so white that I sometimes distort pictures because of how the light reflects off of me. I’m aware of this. I used to chalk it up to five years spent primarily indoors working my butt off during college. Now I don’t have much of an excuse.
One of my favorite things about the beach is all the watercraft you can rent. When I go with my host sister and host cousins, we rent a paddleboat and take it far out on the water. Then we swim off of it. Surprisingly, you can go pretty far out and still be able to touch or come close to touching. Although I know my limits as a swimmer, I think my abilities will really improve after these two years. You can also windsurf, rent sea kayaks or rent jet skis.
Throughout the day, all kinds of people walk through the maze of chairs and umbrellas selling their wares. I’ve seen normal things—like blankets, towels or olive oil for your skin—to the more weird, like curtains. I’m not sure who goes to the beach hoping to find a good deal on curtains, but they are there nonetheless. Men, who Albanians refer to as “uncle,” walk around selling fresh fruit by the kilo. Need entertainment? Someone will be around to sell you board games. The last time I was on the beach, the checkers seller made clucking sounds. That’s it. He walked down the aisles clucking, where others might announce what they were selling. Everyone stared. Nothing says checkers like clucking? I don’t know. But my favorite is freshly grilled corn. Slightly black on the outside and taking several minutes of burning your hand to cool off, it’s delicious.
But nothing that I’ve mentioned could ever hope to top the most beautiful and indescribable sunsets as the orange disk lights up the sky pink and purple.
I also go to the beach, since it’s a ten minute walk from my house. You pay $3 to rent an umbrella and two chairs, and there’s a ton of restaurants and hotels on the beach front to get food. We always go to a little restaurant on the beach and get sandwiches of tomato, cucumber, “ham” and French fries (yes, the fries are in the sandwich) for $1. The waiter there is friendly and anxious to practice his English. “Can I make you a question?” he asked. “What is better—Albanian fast food or American? Because I have heard that American fast food is the best.” He found little disagreement from a group of Americans that would kill puppies for a real hamburger.
When I tell my colleagues at school that I went to the beach, they tell me I’m still white. Random strangers will say, “Oh, how white!” to me. Yes, I know that I’m white. Like, so white that I sometimes distort pictures because of how the light reflects off of me. I’m aware of this. I used to chalk it up to five years spent primarily indoors working my butt off during college. Now I don’t have much of an excuse.
One of my favorite things about the beach is all the watercraft you can rent. When I go with my host sister and host cousins, we rent a paddleboat and take it far out on the water. Then we swim off of it. Surprisingly, you can go pretty far out and still be able to touch or come close to touching. Although I know my limits as a swimmer, I think my abilities will really improve after these two years. You can also windsurf, rent sea kayaks or rent jet skis.
Throughout the day, all kinds of people walk through the maze of chairs and umbrellas selling their wares. I’ve seen normal things—like blankets, towels or olive oil for your skin—to the more weird, like curtains. I’m not sure who goes to the beach hoping to find a good deal on curtains, but they are there nonetheless. Men, who Albanians refer to as “uncle,” walk around selling fresh fruit by the kilo. Need entertainment? Someone will be around to sell you board games. The last time I was on the beach, the checkers seller made clucking sounds. That’s it. He walked down the aisles clucking, where others might announce what they were selling. Everyone stared. Nothing says checkers like clucking? I don’t know. But my favorite is freshly grilled corn. Slightly black on the outside and taking several minutes of burning your hand to cool off, it’s delicious.
But nothing that I’ve mentioned could ever hope to top the most beautiful and indescribable sunsets as the orange disk lights up the sky pink and purple.
Summer English Courses!
I’ve spent the month of July getting additional teaching experience and meeting my future students. After registration, I had about eighty students. Now, in the final week of lessons, I have a fraction of that number. I’m still impressed considering that it’s summer in a beach town and attendance was pretty solid up until last week. I’ve enjoyed getting into the classroom and I hope students enjoyed the classes as much as I did. In the end, I had three classes. One class of three high schoolers and two classes of students from the 9-year school (ages 8 – 13). I had a lot of fun with the advanced learners of the neighboring 9-year school and will be seeing them once the school year starts up and I pursue projects at their school.
I was particularly pleased after a lesson where we talked about rooms in a house and objects found in the rooms. I gave the students the assignment of creating their dream homes. It’s very interesting to see what lengths students will go to, so I try and give as little restriction as possible. I had some incredibly elaborate submissions, including a floor plan created on poster paper. Over the next two years, I want to make a portfolio of my students’ work so that I will always have it to remember. I already copied some of the floor plans and the elaborate family trees they made yesterday.
The enthusiasm of the students and their dedication to learning are the best aspects of being an educator here. Rampant academic dishonesty is the worst.
Cheating is something that we were warned about and discussed countless times during training. Until you encounter it, it still remains an abstract thought. Already, just a few months on site, I’ve been asked to help students cheat three times. One instance was on a test equivalent to the SATs. It’s something that I want no part of. Students try to help each other and teachers think they are helping students. But in the end, no one benefits from cheating. If teachers or students do work for others, they are harming themselves and those they are trying to “help.” It’s such a mainstay in the system, but the Ministry of Education is attempting to eliminate it. Cheating comes at a high price: it affects the reputation of students, teachers and schools and can be punished administratively. It’s hard to correct such a prevalent aspect in Albanian education, but it’s a dishonest plague that I will certainly try to set a good example about. I might have little power in the choices that teachers and students make, but I do have the ability to refuse being any part of it.
I was particularly pleased after a lesson where we talked about rooms in a house and objects found in the rooms. I gave the students the assignment of creating their dream homes. It’s very interesting to see what lengths students will go to, so I try and give as little restriction as possible. I had some incredibly elaborate submissions, including a floor plan created on poster paper. Over the next two years, I want to make a portfolio of my students’ work so that I will always have it to remember. I already copied some of the floor plans and the elaborate family trees they made yesterday.
The enthusiasm of the students and their dedication to learning are the best aspects of being an educator here. Rampant academic dishonesty is the worst.
Cheating is something that we were warned about and discussed countless times during training. Until you encounter it, it still remains an abstract thought. Already, just a few months on site, I’ve been asked to help students cheat three times. One instance was on a test equivalent to the SATs. It’s something that I want no part of. Students try to help each other and teachers think they are helping students. But in the end, no one benefits from cheating. If teachers or students do work for others, they are harming themselves and those they are trying to “help.” It’s such a mainstay in the system, but the Ministry of Education is attempting to eliminate it. Cheating comes at a high price: it affects the reputation of students, teachers and schools and can be punished administratively. It’s hard to correct such a prevalent aspect in Albanian education, but it’s a dishonest plague that I will certainly try to set a good example about. I might have little power in the choices that teachers and students make, but I do have the ability to refuse being any part of it.
Kujdes! Caution!
In the previous entry, I mentioned that life here is sometimes dangerous. I’ve seen some creative ways of running electrically charged wires, I’ve seen potholes that could swallow a bus, and I’ve seen open holes in the sidewalk. But make no mistake about it: Albanians know all about these dangers inside and out. It’s us, the Americans, who are experiencing a learning curve.
I remember the first day we spent in Elbasan. Hours after we stepped off the plane with luggage in hand, our future language teachers gave us a walking tour of the city we’d be training in for the next ten weeks. I remember walking across a bridge that was completely missing about ten feet of railing, making it possible to drop ten to fifteen feet right into the water below. The sidewalks aren’t uniform in most places, so we have to heighten our awareness or we can get into trouble. There are some spots where metal grating is missing, which makes it possible to suddenly drop a few feet into the sidewalk. The heat and dust of the summer mean that most storeowners water their sidewalks—which makes everything incredibly slippery. Then there are the sidewalk ramps: at least three of us, including me, have bitten it on the ramps. When I did it, I was crossing at a lamp when my feet suddenly went out from under me. I hurt my foot badly enough that it still bothers me occasionally and I ripped the top of my big toenail off. We laugh about it now because we are used to it. But there was a time when we weren’t. I have fallen and slipped so many times in this country that it feels like I’m taking ice skating lessons for the very first time all over again. Just this past weekend, I slipped suddenly while carrying a plate and a half-full glass of Coca Cola. But I’m adapting well: I didn’t spill a drop and somehow ended up in a seated position.
Albania is also home to some of the most creative driving you will ever see. My personal favorite is the frequency of passing zones on the highway. Albanians, in their element, think nothing of turning a 2-lane highway into a 4-lane highway. There are moments when I’m traveling by minibus that I cringe or close my eyes, but nothing has ever happened. They pass on curves. They frequently drive in the middle of the road. My personal favorite is the afternoon traffic in my town, with all the cars full of people going home after a day at the beach. One Sunday, after a friend visited, we sat close to the main intersection waiting for a bus and saw six close calls over the span of twenty minutes. Most of the time, we just shake our heads in a mixture of fear and amazement. For many reasons, crossing the highway makes us feel instantly like we are in a real-life game of Frogger…without the advantage of a reset button.
But as we are able to observe and share these potential problems, we become more aware of the dos and don’ts. Fear or anxiety is replaced by a sense of caution. And the overwhelming desire to avoid ramps at all costs.
I remember the first day we spent in Elbasan. Hours after we stepped off the plane with luggage in hand, our future language teachers gave us a walking tour of the city we’d be training in for the next ten weeks. I remember walking across a bridge that was completely missing about ten feet of railing, making it possible to drop ten to fifteen feet right into the water below. The sidewalks aren’t uniform in most places, so we have to heighten our awareness or we can get into trouble. There are some spots where metal grating is missing, which makes it possible to suddenly drop a few feet into the sidewalk. The heat and dust of the summer mean that most storeowners water their sidewalks—which makes everything incredibly slippery. Then there are the sidewalk ramps: at least three of us, including me, have bitten it on the ramps. When I did it, I was crossing at a lamp when my feet suddenly went out from under me. I hurt my foot badly enough that it still bothers me occasionally and I ripped the top of my big toenail off. We laugh about it now because we are used to it. But there was a time when we weren’t. I have fallen and slipped so many times in this country that it feels like I’m taking ice skating lessons for the very first time all over again. Just this past weekend, I slipped suddenly while carrying a plate and a half-full glass of Coca Cola. But I’m adapting well: I didn’t spill a drop and somehow ended up in a seated position.
Albania is also home to some of the most creative driving you will ever see. My personal favorite is the frequency of passing zones on the highway. Albanians, in their element, think nothing of turning a 2-lane highway into a 4-lane highway. There are moments when I’m traveling by minibus that I cringe or close my eyes, but nothing has ever happened. They pass on curves. They frequently drive in the middle of the road. My personal favorite is the afternoon traffic in my town, with all the cars full of people going home after a day at the beach. One Sunday, after a friend visited, we sat close to the main intersection waiting for a bus and saw six close calls over the span of twenty minutes. Most of the time, we just shake our heads in a mixture of fear and amazement. For many reasons, crossing the highway makes us feel instantly like we are in a real-life game of Frogger…without the advantage of a reset button.
But as we are able to observe and share these potential problems, we become more aware of the dos and don’ts. Fear or anxiety is replaced by a sense of caution. And the overwhelming desire to avoid ramps at all costs.
Albania – The Nicest Peace Corps Country?
There’s been some debate between volunteers about where Albania may rank in livability amongst Peace Corps countries. It usually happens after someone complains about something, whether it has to do with living here or administrative policies. The general consensus: chill out, this is probably the very best place you could have been sent.
I’ve been reflecting on my own ideas about what I thought life here might be like now that I’ve been here for four months. Shortly put, it’s not what I had imagined when I received the initial information packets. It’s hard to believe, as I look out onto the sea, that this is not only a Peace Corps country, but a Peace Corps site. However, I am certain that we are needed here and that there is a lot of work to be done here regardless of the steps Albania continues to take in the right direction. There are still a lot of infrastructural and practical problems that make living here sometimes unexpectedly dangerous (I will write more about this later), as well as governmental corruption and rampant academic dishonesty. As I mentioned in a previous post, these are all tell-tale signs of a country with growing pains.
Looking at my situation so far, it’s difficult to believe this is my Peace Corps reality. Part of it comes from the fact that when people think about Peace Corps, they frequently think far-flung African villages, living in huts and carrying water for long distances. While that is someone’s reality, it’s not mine. I didn’t know what to expect when I first applied since the Peace Corps keeps us on our toes by nominating us to the broadest of geographical regions (i.e. “Central Asia”) and giving us very little say in the matter. We trust that they will match us and create the best fit for our skill set and the needs of host countries. I just happened to end up in Albania, but it could have been anywhere. Peace Corps Albania is different from every other Peace Corps country and vice versa.
Most of us have the creature comforts that we are accustomed, or rather, addicted to, when we lived in the States. Last week, my host father’s small food store got the internet. A neighboring store selling lottery tickets got the internet and shares the connection with my host dad. This allows my fourteen year-old brother to play internet poker most of the day. My dad’s store having the internet is another example of just how quickly Albania, and the world, are changing.
Before I came here, I didn’t plan on having the internet or cellular service. So it’s surprising to have the internet in my school and an internet café five minutes from my house. Just last week, a brand new internet café opened. With another on the beach front, this town of about 5,000 now has three internet sources. I’m almost certain there will be a few more going in before my two years are completed. When I first got here, I thought I needed to have the internet, especially to keep in touch with other volunteers. But I remembered how I had envisioned my service prior to my arrival, and more than anything else, I want to live like a normal Albanian here. At this point, that means that I don’t have the internet in my house. Personal internet access continues to grow and many volunteers have the internet at their house. I think that there is a danger in getting too involved with trying to imitate our American lives here in Albania. Firstly, it comes down to money. We only have a certain amount, and if you want internet and cable, it’s a significant portion of your monthly living allowance. But more importantly, you can sit on the internet anywhere. When I think about all the time I would spend online in the US, I almost feel nauseous. I wanted to make some changes when I came here, and internet usage was certainly one of them. I’ve found that I don’t even miss it, even if I go a couple days without reading my mail. I’ve learned how to budget my internet time a lot more wisely as well. You’d be surprised that a life without 24/7 internet can in fact be rewarding!
As far as telephones are concerned, there are many locations to make international calls (although I prefer to use Skype instead). A frequent joking point amongst volunteers, most Albanians have two or even three different prepaid cellular providers. I have my Peace Corps issued phone through Vodafone and an additional phone from Eagle Mobile. Previously, Albania was dominated by Vodafone. It still has the best saturation throughout the country, which is why the Peace Corps uses it. However, two other competing brands have sprung up. They offer some fantastic deals to lure customers away from Vodafone. Eagle, my other provider, has a plan for 800Lek ($8.25) that allows users in the same plan to text for 1Lek and call for 3Lek. From 8:00PM to 8:00AM, you can talk for free. It’s a great deal but Eagle hasn’t spread to the more remote parts of the country just yet.
I’ve been reflecting on my own ideas about what I thought life here might be like now that I’ve been here for four months. Shortly put, it’s not what I had imagined when I received the initial information packets. It’s hard to believe, as I look out onto the sea, that this is not only a Peace Corps country, but a Peace Corps site. However, I am certain that we are needed here and that there is a lot of work to be done here regardless of the steps Albania continues to take in the right direction. There are still a lot of infrastructural and practical problems that make living here sometimes unexpectedly dangerous (I will write more about this later), as well as governmental corruption and rampant academic dishonesty. As I mentioned in a previous post, these are all tell-tale signs of a country with growing pains.
Looking at my situation so far, it’s difficult to believe this is my Peace Corps reality. Part of it comes from the fact that when people think about Peace Corps, they frequently think far-flung African villages, living in huts and carrying water for long distances. While that is someone’s reality, it’s not mine. I didn’t know what to expect when I first applied since the Peace Corps keeps us on our toes by nominating us to the broadest of geographical regions (i.e. “Central Asia”) and giving us very little say in the matter. We trust that they will match us and create the best fit for our skill set and the needs of host countries. I just happened to end up in Albania, but it could have been anywhere. Peace Corps Albania is different from every other Peace Corps country and vice versa.
Most of us have the creature comforts that we are accustomed, or rather, addicted to, when we lived in the States. Last week, my host father’s small food store got the internet. A neighboring store selling lottery tickets got the internet and shares the connection with my host dad. This allows my fourteen year-old brother to play internet poker most of the day. My dad’s store having the internet is another example of just how quickly Albania, and the world, are changing.
Before I came here, I didn’t plan on having the internet or cellular service. So it’s surprising to have the internet in my school and an internet café five minutes from my house. Just last week, a brand new internet café opened. With another on the beach front, this town of about 5,000 now has three internet sources. I’m almost certain there will be a few more going in before my two years are completed. When I first got here, I thought I needed to have the internet, especially to keep in touch with other volunteers. But I remembered how I had envisioned my service prior to my arrival, and more than anything else, I want to live like a normal Albanian here. At this point, that means that I don’t have the internet in my house. Personal internet access continues to grow and many volunteers have the internet at their house. I think that there is a danger in getting too involved with trying to imitate our American lives here in Albania. Firstly, it comes down to money. We only have a certain amount, and if you want internet and cable, it’s a significant portion of your monthly living allowance. But more importantly, you can sit on the internet anywhere. When I think about all the time I would spend online in the US, I almost feel nauseous. I wanted to make some changes when I came here, and internet usage was certainly one of them. I’ve found that I don’t even miss it, even if I go a couple days without reading my mail. I’ve learned how to budget my internet time a lot more wisely as well. You’d be surprised that a life without 24/7 internet can in fact be rewarding!
As far as telephones are concerned, there are many locations to make international calls (although I prefer to use Skype instead). A frequent joking point amongst volunteers, most Albanians have two or even three different prepaid cellular providers. I have my Peace Corps issued phone through Vodafone and an additional phone from Eagle Mobile. Previously, Albania was dominated by Vodafone. It still has the best saturation throughout the country, which is why the Peace Corps uses it. However, two other competing brands have sprung up. They offer some fantastic deals to lure customers away from Vodafone. Eagle, my other provider, has a plan for 800Lek ($8.25) that allows users in the same plan to text for 1Lek and call for 3Lek. From 8:00PM to 8:00AM, you can talk for free. It’s a great deal but Eagle hasn’t spread to the more remote parts of the country just yet.
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