Gazuar Festat

Albanians love celebrations, so Albania pretty much observes all holidays, religious and civil, and of most denominations. "Happy Holidays” seems pretty appropriate here without the accusation of quibbling one hears in the US from those who think only a hearty “Merry Christmas” will do. Korca certainly has the Christmas spirit. There are lights and trees everywhere. Parades and processions by different denominations are scheduled. The square in front of the cathedral in the center of town has a tent for loud rock music, beer, and dancing. There is a temporary, outdoor ice skating rink next to that, several booths for the holiday market, and a stage for the planned musical and dance performances that will go on until the 7th of January, which is the big Christmas day for the Orthodox Church which predominates here.

For the secular (Albania was officially an atheist state under the 40 year communist rule), there are a fireworks in store for New Years Eve. Lots of kids have firecrackers and they pop with increasing frequency as the big day approaches. Albanians love things that blow up and many people say that was a principle motivation for the anarchy that wrecked the country in 1997 when, in response to an economic collapse, young men looted the armories and had great fun with grenades, rockets and automatic weapons. Happily, current explosions are limited to the variety sold at the legal fireworks stands in Idaho around the 4th of July. Maybe Idaho should consider adopting this tradition, since the rain, snow and cold of winter makes the corollary Idaho “tradition” of accidental forest, grass, and structural fires unlikely.

Speaking of wanting to blow things up, I was supposed to attend a course on project design and management in Durres a couple of weeks ago. I had heard from several sources that this training is particularly good. Unfortunately, my counterpart, Jani, who was supposed to attend with me, developed kidney problems that put him in the hospital the day before we were to leave. The Peace Corps staff person in charge of the meeting reached me by cell phone as I was on the bus and told me not to come without my counterpart.

I was initially miffed, because I had cleared my schedule, arranged coverage for my classes and really wanted the training. I have already had one grant application for a small grant for equipment to do worksite environmental monitoring turned down. Dr. Isufi enlisted my help with a grant application to the Vodafone Albania Foundation to help get a disabled ski program going at his ski area. This was only shortly before the application was due and he was a little unclear of what he wanted to do with the money, but it was also not helped by my lack of expertise. Others at the Directorate of Public Health have also asked for assistance. Since I am the only volunteer left in Korca, I feel an obligation to do what I can. The next training session is not until June which will leave less than a year left for me to do anything. Not enough time. So when I got back to my apartment, I downloaded some training materials on grant writing and then took a later bus to visit with some volunteers that have written successful grants. This was very instructive. Nothing makes me want to learn something more than being told I can’t.

Even though I have written grants in the past and participated in research projects under other grants, writing for social projects seems quite different. The amount of money involved is much less than I have dealt with in the past, but the people administering the grant making programs seem to act like pashas approving funding as though it were out of their largesse rather than an integral part of achieving the goals of their organizations. Yet, I realize I am more likely to be productive if I just learn what hoops to jump through. If I were in charge, I would get those people out of their shiny Land Rovers with the organizations’ insignias on the sides and hold them a lot more accountable for outcomes. Even over the time I have been here, I have seen a lot of fancy equipment purchased with grant money lying broken and idle. Nevertheless, I am not in charge and if I want to do anything I am going to have to get with the program.

A few of the volunteers from other towns in the region are coming to stay at my apartment so they can attend the festivities in Korca. We plan to share a traditional dinner as best as we can assemble it from the available ingredients. Some of them are pretty good cooks and adept at substitutions, such as using high-fat yoghurt called “salce kosi” for cream cheese. My own cooking ability would need a Christmas miracle to make it palatable, so I will probably limit myself to helping out where I can, like washing dishes and trying to keep the place warm.

This has been a challenge. The double layer of plastic which is held in place by masking tape so as not to damage the paint keeps blowing off in the draft that comes around the window frames. I was going to put a curtain across my door frame, but the neighborhood dog, Ilky, likes to sleep in front of my door on cold nights, probably because of the heat leaking out, as well as the slices of bread I give him whenever I bring home a loaf from the bakery (35 cents a loaf, fresh baked, 24 hours a day). I did buy a small bag of dry dog food to give him as treats (I haven’t found real dog treats in stores here yet), but he refuses to eat that stuff. He’d rather ransack the trash for edibles. I’d invite him in but first, it is not that much warmer inside than outside, and, second, that would also entail inviting in all the fauna that infests Albanian dogs, which, for the most part, live outside, whatever the weather.

I know that the ski season finally opened back in Idaho the weekend before Christmas. Not to be outdone, I headed to our local ski hill on Saturday with Dr. Isufi. As I walked over to meet him at his office in the early afternoon, it began to snow heavily. I figured we would cancel our trip and, maybe, just go for coffee. I was wrong. In retrospect, I realize that the roads in Albania are so bad that drifting snow weighs little in the decision to make a trip.

His son, who has a car, was recruited to give us a ride to the ski hill which is usually about a half hour drive. He drove slowly, a bad sign since Albanians almost never drive slowly. We only got to the village of Boboshtica, about half way, before his car lost all traction. We helped him get his car turned around and, as he drove off back to Korca, Isufi pointed up the hill and said, “We walk”.

We trudged up the 10-15% grade as the blizzard blew in our faces. We passed four wheel drives that were off the side of the road. Isufi thumped his chest and said, “Ah, fresh air”. After about an hour, we saw Maca’s old, beat up, white Mercedes van emerging from the cloud up ahead. He had chains on the rear tires and I thought he might be heading home. Wrong again.

We helped him turn the van around and drove up the last few miles to the ski area. It was slow going. We stopped several times to adjust the chains and to help other vehicles, including a Jeep wagon that had gone into a ditch. This helpful, community spirit was partly due to traditional Albanian traits, but also due to the fact that it is barely a one lane road and if you don’t help the car stuck ahead, you don’t go either.

At last we got to the ski area, Bigel, near the village of Dardhe. As we warmed up in front of the fireplace and drank hot, mountain tea, I saw that Kristof and Fredi and a couple of others I didn’t know were busy finishing various projects and getting the place spruced up to open for business. Isufi asked me if I wanted to ski, but it was getting dark, it was still storming outside (there was lightning and thunder and it had begun to hail), and I didn’t want to be playing while the others were busy working. There was a lot to do.

We worked for several hours. The day lodge looks pretty functional and it will serve for the season, but there are obviously a lot of future projects. Credit Suisse can never pull the plug on this ski area like they did at Tamarack in Idaho, because this is a strictly pay-as-you-go construction with lots of sweat-equity and recycled materials. Whether or not he gets his grant, I have no doubt that Dr. Isufi will make it accessible for local disabled people, although transportation seems problematic.

I assumed we would camp out in the day lodge for the night and return in the daylight, but suddenly, the tools were put away, the fire was doused, the floor swept up and we got into the van for the drive back to Korca. As Maca carefully maneuvered the van down the steep, icy road in the dark, they began to sing traditional ballads for which Korca is renowned. They all know the words by heart.

Out of Site

Jani, one of my counterparts at the Directorate of Public Health, tells me that it always snows in Korca the first week in December. The last Wednesday of November, however, was unseasonably warm and sunny, as I headed to Tirana for a medical appointment, a meeting at the US Embassy and Thanksgiving dinner at the Ambassador’s home the next day.

The security officer for the Peace Corps, had visited Korca on Tuesday. I met with her after class and was briefed on concerns regarding demonstrations in the capital over continuing disputes regarding the election last June. She spent the night visiting her family, so I was able to hitch a ride with her to Tirana. Two other volunteers also came along. It sure beat the bus.

I got to Tirana about noon, tried to get the key for the room I had rented through the internet with a family near the Blocku district. I was told to come back later, so I walked across town to the Peace Corps office to have an ear infection checked out by the PA who is our Medical Officer. Then I walked to the US Embassy for a meeting. After that it was back for the key. On my way, I passed the 16th Annual International Trade Fair that was being held in the Palace of Congress building, sponsored by the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Energy. It was lit up in the evening, there was music coming from inside, and there was a fair size crowd outside among all the new Mercedes, Audis and other cars on display. I paid my 100 lek entrance fee and went inside.

Inside hundreds of corporate exhibitors displayed their products in booths on the 4 floors of the hall. They were from within and around Albania and promoted everything from high tech machinery to wedding dresses. It was not something one would expect in a country with a large contingent of serving Peace Corps volunteers, although I realize that this is the engine that produces real change in a developing country.















The next day, Thanksgiving morning, there was a touch football game between the volunteers and the Marines from the Embassy. The Marines trounced the PC team. We all agreed we would have been discomfited had they lost. Late in the afternoon I walked to the “Ridge”, where the American diplomats have their homes in a secure, manicured community. I was let in and shown to the Ambassador’s residence, where I joined Ambassador Withers, 5 other volunteers and a few Marines and Embassy staff for a traditional dinner. Albania has turkeys, but they look like the wild ones back in the foothills in Idaho, and are mostly dark meat. Our bird was obviously American and perfectly cooked: served with mashed potatoes and gravy, bean casserole, cranberry sauce, carrots and broccoli, stuffing, and assorted pastries for dessert.

Because Albania has a series of holidays at the end of November (Little Bajram- a Muslim commemoration of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son at God’s command, Independence Day and Liberation Day), I had the next 5 days off and toured around southern Albania, staying with other volunteers. This network of hosts is one of the great perks of Peace Corps service. In Albania, they are mainly from my cohort that began service together almost 9 months ago at staging in Philadelphia, but I understand it is available in any country with an active Peace Corps program.

My itinerary took me to Tepelene, with its mineral springs and water bottling plants; Kelcyre, which has ruins from an Illyrian village; Gjirokaster, with its steep cobbled streets winding up the hill to the Ottoman castle; Saranda, the Mediterranean resort city with hundreds of new hotels lining the shoreline; and Butrint, the ancient Greek, Roman and Venetian port city. The weather was mostly sunny and pleasant. The roads wound through the mountains, through the vineyards along the whitish-teal Vjosa River near Permet and Kelcyre, the persimmon trees among the rock strewn hillsides along the green Drinos River near Gjirokaster and the orange groves among the limestone hills along the coast near Saranda. The mountain ridges rise 2000 ft above the valleys. A group from my cohort tried to bushwhack across two of them between Gjirokaster and Permet (about 10 miles) over the weekend. They got lost in the snow, but were saved by a villager who led them to safety, although far short of their goal. Many of you are probably surprised I was not with them.


Butrint was the highlight of the trip and not just because my hosts in Saranda made banana pancakes for breakfast on Monday. It is a national park that has extensive, partially excavated ruins as well as a large nature reserve around a lagoon with a variety of birds, especially in the winter. Since this is the off season, there were not many people. We walked for hours along the self guided path through the ruins and on a trail along the water. That night we had dinner at a popular local seafood restaurant in Saranda to celebrate several birthdays among my cohorts. We had dessert and coffee at a café on the bay with the lights of Corfu on the other side of the narrow strait between Albania and the Greek island. We could see the boot heel of Italy in the distance across the Ionian Sea.

When I got home on Tuesday a stiff cold wind blew gray clouds across the valley. I saw my landlord’s son and learned his father had suffered a heart attack the day before and was in the hospital. I put on a heavier coat and walked over to visit. He was resting, with his family around him. They do not have a CCU at the hospital in Korca. He shared a room with two other patients. There were no monitors, no electric beds. It reminded me of the hospital where I had my tonsils out about 55 years ago. He had two IV’s going and I did not recognize the names of the medications that were written on the sides of the bottles. As I headed back up the hill to my apartment, a light rain began to fall; the temperature dropping as the twilight turned into night.