Fitness

This seems a strange topic to discuss right now as I am recovering from about 2 weeks of some ailment. I awoke one morning with fever and chills, muscle aches and feeling as if someone had kicked me in the stomach while I slept. When I tried to stand I came close to passing out. I had to miss a work day for the first time in decades.

The next day I was able to resume a limited work schedule, but felt weak. I slept a lot and drank a lot of tea. When I didn’t improve after a week, I talked with the Peace Corps medical officer and decided to try Cipro. After a couple of more days, I felt a bit better, possibly due to the antibiotic, possibly not. Some of my Albanian friends and neighbors came by to check on me and give advice. Herbal tea, bananas, hard boiled eggs and well cooked cabbage were recommended. I also got advice through e-mail from friends back home. They recommended different teas, vitamins, chicken soup and against bananas and cabbage. I am not a believer in “single case studies”. As one of my professors used to say, “given any disease in any patient, he will either get better, get worse or stay the same, and just because you are waving your arms around when he gets better, does not imply cause and effect”.

At this point, I am happy with the effect and could care less about the cause. It is good to be back to full activity. I appreciate the concern and help from the Peace Corps staff, my Albanian friends and counterparts, and from my friends back home. Most volunteers have bouts of illness during their service, especially early on as strange foods and situations, cultural and language confusion, new schedules, time changes, living situations, etc. take their toll. I remember about 6 weeks of GI distress that started about a month into my time on the Navajo reservation about 30 years ago. My friends and coworkers at the time laughed and said that was normal. Maybe my most recent illness was a case of “Skanderbeg’s Revenge”.

Usually, however, I am pretty healthy. My only regular medication is a multivitamin. Except for the usual changes of age (eg. hair and vision loss), I am pretty fit, especially compared to others of my age. As with most of my life I have been pretty lucky with natural inclinations so that I don’t have to apply much self discipline. I don’t like heavy, greasy foods. I was inculcated with a love of fresh fruits and vegetables by my farmer grandfather. I don’t watch television (I believe that snacking while watching the tube for hours on end is a major cause of obesity and deconditioning). I like to walk, hike, camp, ski, bicycle, etc. I find starting my day with exercise gives me more energy and helps me sleep at night. I can’t tolerate alcohol and I gave up smoking years ago so I could give health lectures on the evils of tobacco without being too hypocritical.

When I joined the Peace Corps, I figured I would not have access to gyms or exercise equipment. I decided to work out a routine that would not be dependent on equipment or even a lot of room. I thought back to exercises that were in a pamphlet I read long ago in the Air Force on recommended exercises for prisoners of war. There is some irony in using that for my Peace Corps service. Anyway, the isometric exercises described seemed like something I could do anywhere. There is the added advantage of warming you up in the winter before you crawl out of your sleeping bag.

Unfortunately, isometric exercise is particularly boring. It is pretty easy however to work out a routine that exercises most muscle groups starting with the neck and going down to the feet. I do as much as I can make myself do on a regular basis, figuring that the best exercise is the one you actually do. For me this is holding a position for a count of 20 seconds and repeating it 5 times alternating opposing groups of muscles. I also work in some stretches for my shoulders, back and hips and a short aerobic routine of either jumping rope or jumping jacks.

Afterwards, I usually head up the mountain to the East of Korca for the daily “Folks March”. The road has been recently paved to the two hotels and restaurant on top and there is a large cross (like the one on Table Rock in Boise, but with lots less controversy) and an old, small Orthodox church. There are lots of foot and donkey paths crisscrossing the mountain as well. About a 100 Korcans will walk or jog each morning, and more on weekends. Not all go to the top. Many, like me, are older. We form a kind of community and the regulars greet each other with a hearty “mengjesi” (roughly “top of the morning”) and a smile. I am sometimes asked where I am from, since my boots, t-shirt and R&M Steel Company Aviation Building Systems ball cap are obviously not Albanian. They often respond to “from America” with a hearty “Bravo”. It takes me about 1 ½ hours to get to the cross and about 45 minutes to come back down. There is a spectacular view across the valley with Korca at the foot of the mountain surrounded by villages and farms and of the mountains that form it rising more than 6000 ft above the valley floor. I leave about 5:30 AM to avoid the heat of the day and the sun is warming the ridge where the cross is perched by the time I get there.

This is in addition to the exercise I get walking around town to the various places I work or visit for errands or socializing. I only take a bus or furgon when I head out of town. Evening activity is often joining the Korca Xhiro after the heat has dissipated and the townsfolk come out in thousands to slowly walk the boulevards, meet friends, drink beer or coffee and eat qofta (meat balls) or grilled ears of corn sold by street vendors. I often go for an ice cream cone which is about 25 cents for soft serve or 60 cents for three small scoops. Maybe that counteracts some of the exercise, but it sure helps my mental fitness.

The Fourth in Tirana

The American Chamber of Commerce in the capital hosted a Fourth of July party at a private school in Tirana. All the Peace Corps volunteers were invited and many came from all parts of Albania to join the celebration. They charged us each about $6 to attend, but it was well worth it. Hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, brownies, cherry pie, éclairs and ice cream along with beer and wine and soft drinks were provided. To my surprise I found that my stomach is no longer used to American food, even though I ate moderately and I don’t drink alcohol. I guess I have become used to the Mediterranean diet of Albania, and I didn’t feel well the next day. That’s was ok, olives, feta cheese, roast chicken and yoghurt, fresh tomato, cucumber and pepper salad is just not appropriate for a 4th of July picnic. The fireworks display was grand and we all sang the national anthem, although I think I was the only one who knew all four verses.

Saturday, I stayed in town to visit the National Historical Museum in Skanderbeg Square. There is a large communist era, heroic style mosaic on the façade. The history starts with the stone-age and documents an unbroken line to present day Albanians. Albanians are very proud that their culture has survived repeated invasion and conquest. The history documented ended with the ‘”war against the fascists”. Albania was able to liberate itself from the Nazis (with some help from the British and Americans), and never sent Jewish or Roma (gypsy) citizens off to the death camps (also, apparently Albert Einstein escaped to America through Tirana in 1933).

Enver Hoxha, the communist dictator, who ruled Albania for 40 years after WWII is only mentioned as a partisan leader against the fascists. Albania is not yet sure how to deal with the long isolation and grinding poverty that characterized his reign. People are angry that they were denied their rightful place in Europe since at the beginning of the 20th century, an independent Albania emerged from the Balkan Wars and WW I for the first time since the 15th century and was at least as developed as many parts of Europe such as Italy and Greece.

Many locals came up to me and asked me if I was American. When I confirmed their suspicion (yes, it is obvious), they shook my hand and wished me a “happy birthday America”. Some also gave condolences on my loss of Michael Jackson. In Albania, it seems almost everyone is known to one another, mostly because they are related. I guess they assume that even though the US is much bigger than Albania, given our advanced communication and travel systems, that must also be true for us. My opinion is that we will have to live as a people in America for at least 3 or 4 millennia to achieve this. I would have explained that even though I liked his music and we share the same first name, I was neither related to nor a personal friend of Michael Jackson, and, being a male of my vintage, I was probably more personally effected by the loss of Farrah Fawcett. Trying to be polite and having limited language skills, I shook their hands, thanked them for their kind thoughts, and yes, I was good, and yes, my family, other than Michael, were good, and, yes, I would pass along their condolences, etc.

Tirana is a bustling, modern city, although the water still goes out part of the day. Walking through the large, Blocku section of town on Saturday night reminded me of parts of New York City, with hundreds of street cafes, art galleries and shops, and a vibrant night life. One startling difference, however, is the graffiti one sees by the university. “America- Freedom, Peace, Happiness” is not one I remember ever seeing at Berkeley. That is understandable because it is hard to appreciate American liberty and tranquility until it is seen through the eyes of an ancient people that has know little of either. Maybe we should sing the last verse of the national anthem at ball games to remind ourselves that we are “blessed” and “heaven rescued” and are pledged to the “just cause”.

I don’t think the younger volunteers have much interest in this sort of musing. They were just happy to be in the Big City and enjoy the urban scene that is absent in most of Albania. It was good to reconnect with my cohort and share tales of our adjustment (many involving plumbing. My electric shower was nowhere near the worst), but I was glad to head back to Korca.

On Sunday, the five hour furgon route went over mountain passes and through river valleys that were steep and narrow, broadening occasionally into pastures, corn and wheat fields and orchards of ripening fig, olive, plum, peach, apricot and more, through the large cities of Elbasan and Pogradec, and smaller ones of Librazhd and Malic, past dozens of villages and along the shore of Lake Ohrid. There are many abandoned and decaying factories and stark communist block apartments (although I have been inside many that have been beautifully remodeled) but also many new businesses and new homes going up where migrant Albanian workers have invested some of their earnings. Many families were picnicking along the river and men were fishing in the rapids of the Shkumbrin River or selling their catch from Lake Ohrid along the roadside.

I would ask a favor of those of you who read this. If you know any Albanians, on November 28, please be sure to shake their hand and wish them a “happy birthday Albania”. Don’t forget to ask them about their family.