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.