Idahoan in Albania

Should You Join the Peace Corps?

2011-07-03T13:42:00.000-07:00

After "How was it?" and "Are you happy to be home?" the most frequently asked question is, "Are you glad you joined the Peace Corps?" This is usually meant as passing conversation. They are usually not looking for a complex answer. "Yes" or "No" will do just fine. Since there is intrinsic satisfaction in completing something you decide to do, I can honestly answer in the affirmative without confusing and unwelcomed qualifications. If you are reading this and would rather not have any elaboration, please feel free to log off now.

If you are still with me, here is the long answer.

Would I do it again? I don't know. The Peace Corps did not seem very adept in using the expertise brought along by an older volunteer, but I was able to find and develop projects that did. In all fairness, the program does encourage that. I think if I had just stayed in my primary assignment, I would have wound up pretty frustrated. Two years was a long time and I don't think it was used as efficiently as it might have been. Many professional organizations, including some that I belong to, offer volunteer opportunities in developing countries. These are much shorter term than the Peace Corps. Most likely, however, it would be at a university in the capital. There wouldn't be the chance to live in a village or smaller city, to get to know a cross section of the people of the country, to learn the language and the culture, and to feel a part of the community.

I met a professional from another country who actually has less experience than I do. He worked in the captial with the appropriate national agencies. He lived in a four star hotel. He ate most of his meals in restaurants. He was picked up each morning and driven to his workplace. He didn't speak the language. He gave me his business card. I didn't have any business cards, so I wrote my name and cell number on one of his and gave it back. I never heard from him.

With the Peace Corps, I walked everywhere in town and took buses or furgons for longer distances. I ate most of my meals at home or with my local friends. My language skills weren't stellar, but I could get by well enough. I'm not sure my accommodations rated even one star, but they were ok, especially compared to the people I worked with. I don't need that much. Anyway, the countryside is much prettier, less crowded and more interesting than the capital. I didn't envy him at all.

Also, in addition to the opportunity to get to know locals, there was the interaction with the younger volunteers. It is not often that oldsters get to know young people as peers, rather than as friends of their offspring. I didn't have to pretend to be in my twenties and didn't participate in all the group activities, but there were many things we did together that I found both interesting and enjoyable. That opinion is independent of meeting Catherine.

One big down side, however, was the care of my place back home in Idaho. Younger volunteers haven't accumulated the big possessions in life. This presents another challenge for an older volunteer. I have a place in the city. It is comfortable and convenient, so I didn't want to sell. Initially, good friends stayed in it while they built a new home outside of town. I am sure they took great care of it, but they didn't need it for the full 27 months. Eventually, it was rented out by a property management company. Most of the shrubs in the small back yard ended up dead and they made interior modifications that I didn't authorize or appreciate. At least it didn't burn down and it was left clean. My main home is in the mountains. Living there is a bit complicated, so I didn't want to rent it out. Unfortunately, the friend who stayed there didn't understand or get help with the water system and the iron staining that resulted is daunting. Too bad, because it could have easily been prevented. Back up plans for other friends to look in on things apparently fell through. Also, moving out was delayed by complications, and I guess it seemed easier to impose on me than insist that the place they were moving to was available on time. I did arrive a bit earlier than I anticipated because of cancelled travel plans after Catherine's accident, but it is going on beyond that. It is awkward for all of us, but I am not happy being made to feel like a visitor in my own house.

I suppose I will have to accept that it is too late to do anything about all of this now. One should not expect that anything you do not sell or put into secure storage will end up to your personal standards for maintenance by the time you get back home. Friends will undoubtedly help a lot and make service much easier, but Americans lead busy lives and don't have time for things that are not their personal prioritites (and hardly have time for those). 27 months is a long time and one is almost sure to be disappointed. Maybe that is another lesson from Peace Corps service. I'll come around to accepting whatever has occurred. Things can be repaired or replaced. Normal routines will be slowly reestablished. At my age, I'd much rather lose possessions than friends. Even so, I would recommend that older Peace Corps volunteers consider disposing of all of their possessions before they leave home. It will make homecoming far less problematic.

The sum of Catherine's injury and subsequent rehabiliation in a far away city, readjustment to the pace and complexity of life in the US, negotiating bureaucratic hassles, and reorganizing and repairing a life and its accoutrements has made the post service period much more difficult than I had anticipated. It has been more difficult, in fact, than Peace Corps service itself. Nevertheless, it is hard to say whether it would have caused me to change my plans had I known it all in advance.

According to Garrison Keillor, "Sometimes good fortune lies in not getting what you wanted, but what you ended up with, which is what you would have wanted had you only known". Surely the short time since I have returned home is too soon to make any kind of reasoned judgment about the relative worth of my Peace Corps experience. Ask me again in five years.

Should you join the Peace Corps? There are probably as many answers to that question as there have been volunteers (about 200,000) and countries of service (about 130) in the 50 years since the Peace Corps was founded. Of the current 8000 or so volunteers in 70 countries around the world, only about 6% are over the age of 50. Even so, speaking for the few hundred of us "senior" volunteers, I know I can't give any kind of valid answer to that question. That, of course, has never stopped me in the past, so here goes...

If you are looking for a mission, I think you will be disappointed. If you want an extended vacation to an exotic locale, in spite of the remarks you might hear about the "Posh Corps", the odds are greatly against a "Club Peace Corps" assignment. You will most likely go to a village, small town or city in a developing country. Because of potential health problems, the Peace Corps does tend to keep the older volunteers away from the more remote and isolated assignments. Still, it is unlikely to be really comfortable. As far as I know there are no Peace Corps volunteers assigned to Monaco.

Finally, experience has taught me that I have almost never been happy with a decision I made for the reasons I made it. Long after I have forgotten exactly why I decided to apply to the Peace Corps, something will arise which will make me really happy I served, or, perhaps, really regret that decision, or, more likely, some combination of those sentiments. Life is like that, whether or not you choose to add Returned Peace Corps Volunteer to your resume. I learned a while back that the magic in life is not volitional. So I figure that unless you are a Buddhist, you only go through life once. If you can spare 27 months, accept the bureaucratic hassles, adapt to the difficulties, deal with the disappointments and focus on the positives, then...what the heck, for good or ill, you'll never know unless you do it. I wish you the best of luck.

Coming Home

2011-06-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

The local elections held throughout Albania a couple of weeks before my close of service date could not have been closer. The counting went on for more than a week, and even that took prodding from the American ambassador and representatives from the EU. The closest count was for the mayor of the capital, Tirana, which is by far the biggest and richest city in Albania. The incumbent, a socialist, is also the head of the opposition party and had run against the current prime minister two years ago in a highly contested election. Protests against that result had lead to shooting deaths of marchers in February, which had affected my departure on my visit home. Now, with the initial result of this election a win by the current office holder by only 10 votes out of about 300,000 cast, a painfully slow recount was conducted, live on television. It seemed to go on forever, although Albanians throughout the country watched intently. I suggested that, to make it more interesting, they might bring in celebrity counters, sort of a “voting with the stars”. My Albanian friends have learned, as my friends back home already know, to ignore me.

Protests were held in the center of Tirana. I was afraid that I would end up being evacuated from the country as I was in the midst of my close of service processing. Fortunately, they remained peaceful and we only had to avoid the large gatherings in the center of town. As of Wednesday, May 15, I became a former Peace Corps volunteer. I took a bus to Kukes and spent the night with a volunteer in my group who was still in for a few more weeks. The next day I took a furgon across the border into Kosovo. I went to visit another from my group who had closed service a couple of months back and now lived in Prizren. Kosovo is off limits for volunteers without special permission. Given the turmoil surrounding the election, it actually seemed safer.

I visited the museum that marks the League of Prizren formed in the waning of the Ottoman Empire to work for the independence of the Albanian people. The buildings were demolished by the Serbs during the Kosovo war in 1998, but have been carefully reconstructed. Prizren, in general, was quite beautiful, with most buildings restored, with the exception of Serbian homes and churches scattered along the hillside, whose owners had fled when Kosovo went for independence. It was interesting for me to see the contrast after more recent destruction than that seen in Albania following the anarchy of 1997.

Early Saturday morning I took an express bus back to Tirana to meet up with my friends Lawrence and Nicole and join them for a road trip through Montenegro, Croatia and Bosnia. When they turned back to return to Korca, I caught a bus from Dubrovnik to Zagreb. I then took the train to Vienna, Prague and Berlin. From there, I flew on Air Berlin to JFK, visited friends and relatives in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Rhode Island and Massachusetts, before flying on Southwest Airlines non-stop to Phoenix, where Catherine is in outpatient rehabilitation at Barrows Neurological Institute.

After two nights back in the States, I drove a rental car in 16 lanes of traffic to Philadelphia. Even though I was driving ten mph above the speed limit, cars passed left and right, cut in front of me and across three lanes to gain a couple of car lengths in the stream. I visited a couple from my Peace Corps group in Saranda. They had returned in November for her to have surgery on her knee. She is finally scheduled to have it in a week.

We talked about the after service experience. We discussed the pace, the aggressiveness, the fiscal difficulties (he had only recently been able to find a job, having been greatly limited in his search by the need to stay with family while awaiting the surgery and she couldn’t take a new job only to take medical leave), and the daunting array of choices for almost everything. We drove downtown, past the statue of Rocky Balboa by the Art Museum. I was reminded of the heroic statue in front of the library in Korca, only that one honored the partisans who struggled against the Nazi occupiers during World War II rather than a mythical boxer who trained on the steps of the museum.

In other visits, I told my stories about Albania. They seemed to flow out to the general boredom of my listeners, and even though I tried, I don’t think I listened enough to their experiences in the past two years. I have to keep reminding myself that there is a limit to their interest in the Peace Corps and Albania.

Catherine met me at the airport in Phoenix. She was with our good friend, Kristine, who was with our Peace Corps group in Elbasan. She is studying in the critical languages program at ASU in preparation for her FBI exam. If you thought the Peace Corps was full of volunteers in tie dyed shirts, sitting in circles, singing kumbaya, you are misinformed, but even among the generally impressive young people in my group in Albania, Kristine stands out. I am glad she is in Tempe, close to where Catherine has her apartment for the duration of her program at Barrows. I could not wish for a better person to have close at hand, if Catherine needs help or just someone who knows her to chat.

We joined Kristine and her friend Chris and their dogs at the dog park in Gilbert early Saturday morning. Kristine brought her adopted dog, Albie, back with her. He is turning out to be a great dog, and is now learning English and Spanish in addition to his native Albanian. The dog park in Gilbert should be on the map for any dog loving tourist. It has a pond and an obstacle course and even a fenced area for timid or disabled dogs, not something one would ever see in Albania.

We went to a gigantic shopping mall near Catherine’s place and caught the new Woody Allen movie in the 24 plex theater. The mall was more than overwhelming. The heat of Arizona drives the locals into the air conditioned space so there were throngs of shoppers. We bought a coffee maker for Catherine’s apartment, even though her doctor limits her coffee intake (very un-Albanian). There were way too many choices. We finally settled on a percolator model similar to the one she had in her apartment in Permet, probably as much for reasons of nostalgia as utility. We can use it for camping after Catherine finishes her program. On Sunday, we drove the rental car to Sedona and hiked among the towering red rocks.

On Monday, we met with Catherine’s doctor and I was able to watch her in therapy. It seems like a good program and there is no doubt she is progressing rapidly. They could use a social worker, however, to help with problem solving and counseling. I hope Catherine isn’t tempted to take a job with them after she finishes, although I am certain she would be a terrific asset to them. I am pretty sure she has no intention to be a permanent resident of Phoenix.

Catherine told me that while she was spinning her wheels at her sister’s house in Tucson, waiting to begin rehabilitation, she attended a meeting for the Peace Corps Fellows program at the University of Arizona. This is a program at several US universities that allows Peace Corps service to be credited towards a graduate degree. A woman told Catherine that because she had served in Europe, she wasn’t a real Peace Corps volunteer. The premise was that unless you served in the jungle, lived in a thatched hut, used a snake and spider infested pit toilet (I guess the rats in Catherine’s Turkish toilet didn’t count), hauled water from a distant stream and brought home at least one parasite as a souvenir, it wasn’t the Peace Corps. That reminds me of the zealots who believe that you can’t be a Christian unless you belong to their particular church. I hope there is a special place in heaven reserved for people like that because, assuming I get in, I wouldn’t want to spend eternity with such sanctimonious snobs, indeed, I don’t want to spend any time with them at all. Catherine didn’t tell her the reason she was in Tucson. One afternoon, Catherine went with Kristine to a Peace Corps recruiting session at ASU. She spoke and answered questions about her experience in Albania, but didn’t mention the accident. She told me she thought the attendees seemed more interested in employment than service.

My friend Paul picked me up at the airport in Boise and drove me to his hangar in Caldwell where he had kindly let me store my car for almost two and a half years. He had taken it off the blocks, disconnected the trickle charger and made sure the tires were properly inflated. It started right up. He then asked if I wanted to fly with him in his Husky tail dragger to a back country strip to drop off some equipment. He has befriended the young son of a caretaker family at Sulfur Creek Ranch on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River in the Frank Church Wilderness. It was a cool, clear evening and there was plenty of daylight left for the trip. We flew low and slow over the snow covered mountain tops and meadows verdant with snowmelt and spring rains. We met some French pilots who were buying light sport aircraft made in Idaho. They were spending the night at the rustic lodge adjacent to the strip. They had a guide from the manufacturer introducing them to Idaho Mountain flying in aircraft like their new ones. We chatted briefly and then took off on the return flight. The angle of the sun set the mountains aglow and cast deep shadows in the valleys. We flew over a few rafters enjoying the high water of the early float season. We scanned the terrain for moose and elk that are most active at twilight. It was good to be home.

Close of Service

2011-05-17T23:56:00.000-07:00

If one could die from overeating, I might not have survived my last two weeks in Korca. Friends and coworkers insisted on taking me out to eat before I left. This meant huge meals at lunch and dinner almost every day, and when I complained about my inability to keep up, they replied, “How about breakfast?” Also, I was trying to keep presents and keepsakes as light as possible, since I planned a bit of traveling before I got home. Ultimately, I had to mail a box home. It was a bit expensive, there is the possibility it will be rifled in transit and one risks life and limb in a post office line, but it was well worth it. Who would want to drag a chipped, plaster wall hanging of scenes of Korca, signed by the nurses at the public health department, among other souvenirs, through the great capitals of central Europe?

On Friday morning, I started walking with my backpack and bag toward the furgon stop for Elbasan. I walked past a neighbor who asked if he could come along. Then I visited the office of Dr. Isufi to say goodbye, and picked up more escorts. Then, Jani showed up on his bicycle, grabbed my backpack and rode away. At first I was pretty angry since I thought I would have to track him down to get my things, but Isuf explained that Jani just wanted to carry the bag for me and would meet us at the furgon stop. There were eight of us by the time we got there. They all wanted to take me to coffee. The last thing I wanted to do was to drink coffee before a 3 hour furgon ride, but Albanians have a deep seated need to buy you coffee as a gesture of friendship and respect and refusing this is a great personal affront. I solved this by having them buy each other coffee in my honor. This seemed to settle my social difficulty but left them to haggle with each other about who would get to pay. I have told several disbelieving Albanians that one of the differences between America and Albania is that in America, we argue about who has to pay.

In Elbasan, I stayed with a friend and fellow volunteer from our group. She and Catherine are especially close since they roomed together in many of the initial trainings. There were also a few other friends from our group there making connections for travel or presenting pre-service training sessions for the new group. We got to hang out together a bit and have dinner. The dinners were light since most of us were also visiting our host families in villages around Elbansan and had to recover from meals eaten there. It was very good to see them, share stories and exchange post-service plans and contact information.

I took a bus to Thane on Saturday to visit with the host families there for the last time before I left. I was also able to give my laptop to the older boy in my host family, as I had planned. He was thrilled to get it. I had him promise to help Catherine’s host family talk with her on Skype. We went over it together while his brother and cousins watched and his mother whipped up lunch. This was, of course, more than anyone could possibly eat with chicken, noodles, homemade bread, homemade yoghurt, hand churned butter, fresh cucumbers and tomatoes and scallions….

Early Monday morning, I caught the furgon to Tirana for processing out at the Peace Corps office. This involves three days of paper work, exams, and exit interviews with various staff. It seems I neglected to submit one of the required reports at some time along the way. I had not been notified about it. I might even have done it, but I had cleaned my computer of any extraneous files before giving it away and so I had to complete the report again. You can just imagine how thrilled I was at that prospect. I may have set a record for the most superficially completed government document, but, who reads that stuff, anyway.

The interviews covered a few routine areas. I was asked a few times if I had any suggestions. Being me, of course I do. I think it would be beneficial for the oldsters to have their own language group to improve language learning, since our style tends to differ significantly from the youngsters. I think a mentoring system would be more useful than volunteer visits during PST. This would entail having a successful volunteer in the same discipline visit the new volunteer in site for a week or so, to help solve initial problems and then keep in touch as an ongoing resource for the new volunteer as they settle into the new routines of work and life in Albania. I have a lot of suggestions for the Peace Corps in Washington about how they handle significant injuries. Their case management leaves a lot to be desired. That explains a lot of the bad press they have had recently. It is not only a disservice to the volunteers, but ends up producing worse outcomes and increased costs. I am willing to offer my personal expertise for improvement, but I doubt if it would be accepted. In any event, it is a separate matter than providing feedback to the country staff, which is quite apart from headquarters in DC.

I was also asked what accomplishment I was most proud of. That’s a hard one. I know I could have accomplished a lot more. But that is more of an epitaph than an answer. I did a lot of things. How useful they will prove to be, I don’t know. I ran into a few of the kids from my Life Skills classes a few days before I left. They told me how much they appreciated what I had taught. I had the same experience with the home care nurses. I am not sure that anything I did at my primary assignment at the health department will make much difference. The work most likely to make a difference is my work with Isufi and the Shoqata. He is already independently and appropriately using the equipment I brought back and trained him on. I am especially hopeful for the recent grant which will enable collaboration between therapists in Korce and therapists in Boise. It has surely been done before, but it has potential to improve services in Albania. It cost hardly anything to set up and our tests of the system went well. I have to pray some irreparable virus doesn’t consume his computer.

Another question was what I had gotten out of my experience. Again, I’m not sure what will prove significant. Certainly, I now know a lot more about Albania than I did before, which was mainly where to find it on a map (more than some of my friends who thought it was in Africa). I have lots of new friends, both Albanian and other volunteers. The main thing, though, I think I can best express by the analogy of a record needle stuck in a groove. Before I came here I was in a bit of a rut. A very pleasant rut to be sure, with good friends, a good job, a comfortable home and lots of fun activities to keep me occupied, but a rut, nonetheless. I think that spending two years in Albania has nudged the machinery. I am not sure what comes next, but I am looking forward to hearing how the record ends.

Just today, I had an email from a group of pilots from England who are planning an aviation adventure flying light aircraft along the Dalmatian coast. They had some questions about Albania. I really wish I were going to be here when they come through and would love to facilitate a landing at the grass strip near Korca. If I were here, I would organize a team to clean up the strip, put up a wind sock, mark the perimeter and welcome them properly. As it is, I gave them what limited information I have and referred them to the main, and only, airport in Tirana. I gave them the phone number of an Albanian who might help them. It is time for me to head for home.

Circle of the Peace Corps

2011-05-07T11:25:00.000-07:00

On Sunday afternoon I received a phone call from Tirana asking me to host one of the new volunteers from Group 14 for his site visit. This is the few days allowed to see your future city or village and meet with your counterparts in your assigned work before the end of pre-service training and swearing in as a full-fledged Peace Corps volunteer. I was happy to comply, but it did seem a bit unusual. I was only two weeks from leaving Korca and would not even be in the country when he started work at the end of the month. Also, he is an English teacher, while I am in health education. Then I learned the two other volunteers from Korca were at meetings in the capital. I was the only volunteer available.

Late Tuesday morning, he sent an SMS that he had arrived. I was not expecting him until the afternoon and was in the middle of talking with a young woman who had just been given a probable diagnosis of a terminal disease. I gave him directions to the main hotel in the center of town and asked him to wait in the lobby until I could get away. I hope the woman did not feel rushed and that I answered all her questions despite my limited language proficiency. I am not sure she understood how dire her prognosis was. Maybe she could allay some of her fears by attributing them to miscommunication. In any event, I excused myself from the clinic for the rest of the day and walked over to the Hotel Grand Palace.

We took his large bag over to Dr. Isufi’s office to leave it until the other volunteers returned, so he could store it until June. Then we walked up the hill to my apartment. I made some lunch and then I showed him around the city. I bought some fresh veggies and some bread at my favorite bakery. For dinner we had a stir fry. We walked up the hill to the cross the next morning and then he went off to the University where he will work and I headed to Isufi’s. That afternoon I took him to meet Iris. I am hoping he will continue with her and keep her tutoring unbroken since Group 6. That evening he went to the championship soccer match between Korca and Elbasan and I was taken out for another going away dinner.

Thursday morning was rainy and I didn’t go up the mountain. My guest slept in and I headed to a conference, where the nurse educators I work with were presenting their report on a series of round table meetings held in the region on the health needs of women and children. This had been done through an EU sponsored program. In the afternoon, I helped some people from the Public Health Department watch a lecture on an air pollution and health study done at the Beijing Olympics. We were able to watch it live on the internet from the University of Rochester in New York. It was a good lecture and a topic that my counterparts are very interested in, but, unfortunately, the webcast had many features that required more bandwidth than is available in Korca, especially in the afternoon when the teens get out of school and hit the internet cafes for Facebook and gaming. The lecture stream was frequently interrupted and had to be reloaded. Fortunately, I had downloaded the slides previously and translated enough of them for the small group to follow pretty well.

After that, I had my last meeting with the Aviation Interest Club of Korca at the American library. The kids had done a flight plan as a project and flew it on Flight Simulator on the computer which had been previously donated to the library, but is not used much. To my amazement, the “flight” was flawless. They found their check points and navigation aids. The destination airport appeared on the screen. The descent check list was completed, the airplane was slowed to approach speed, the flaps and landing gear lowered, the plane touched down and came to a stop on the runway. I was so impressed I felt like tearing their t-shirts off them, writing their name and the date on them and posting them on the library wall. This is the traditional commemoration of a pilot’s first solo.

That night the other volunteers had returned and we got together at a favorite pizzeria. I was not feeling well, probably from overeating the night before, and headed home early. They went out to orient the new volunteer to some of the night spots in Korca. There was a huge political rally going on in the square in front of the theater, complete with bands, search lights and fireworks, that went on longer than the celebratory fireworks that followed Skanderbeu’s, Korca’s soccer team, championship victory the night before.

Friday, the weather was better and we were able to walk to the chapel on the hillside and return through Mborje, the village just east of Korca, a scenic loop of a little over an hour. I went back for the second day of the conference and at the coffee break helped the new volunteer move his bag to one of the other volunteers who will still be here when he returns. Isufi was at the conference although the discussion groups didn’t cover any topics related to disability. One point he did make was that the Association for Physical Benefit was able to do many things for itself and he thought this was a good model for improving healthcare in other situations by empowering the patients and not wasting resources on the usual top down bureaucracy. This idea was not well received. After all, the conference was sponsored by the EU and run by the Public Health Department. He was probably the only private health care provider in attendance. A doctor from Azerbaijan represented the EU. She works in Tirana, administering the program in Albania. She told me she had previously been a Peace Corps medical officer and was pleased to see someone from the Peace Corps at the meeting.

I had my last class with my visually impaired student. He is in college now, and probably doesn’t need to continue. Even so, I had previously introduced the new volunteer to his family. His father is now teaching at the University and should be a good contact for him.

Local elections are being held around the country tomorrow. The candidate of the ruling national party has spent a lot in Korca, with multiple offices in each neighborhood, lots of posters and banners, and young people driving cars around town as they wave flags and honk their horns. A sound truck with Tirana license plates drives up and down the streets carrying large billboards and playing a recording promoting the candidate. This has not been matched by the other candidates and I am a bit worried by the imbalance. The safety officer has asked volunteers to steer clear of the offices and rallies and to avoid travel around the country on the day before and after the election. I hope the elections go smoothly and that observers from the EU, the US and elsewhere can certify a free and fair election.

I am spending Election Day with Iris and her family on a hike and picnic in the mountains; another event in my continuing going away partying. I made brownies to bring along as a contribution, but I am sure they will be superfluous. This being Albania, I wonder how we will be able to carry all the food. We are meeting at 6 AM in front of their home to begin walking.

Peace Corps Potlatch

2011-04-16T13:32:00.000-07:00

As I rode the furgon to and from Tirana this week, it seemed that about half the streets in Albania are torn up and being repaired. The new pocket park in the empty lot between apartment buildings near my home was recently finished. Water and electricity service are noticeably more reliable. It is no coincidence. Local elections are scheduled of the first week of May. I asked a friend if he thought it would be good if they could have elections year round. He said they had to pay for all of this after the elections and that the increased spending also meant increased payoffs through the various levels of corruption. He didn’t think it was so great.

I had to go to Tirana to have my eye seen by a doctor. I had tripped on the stairs at the nursing school where I teach a class. I did a face plant at the bottom. There was a fair amount of blood and lots of bruises on my face, chest, left arm and right leg. They crowded around, but I was able to get away from the surge of helpful students. I limped home and stopped the bleeding with a butterfly bandage and some pressure. I sat for awhile with ice over my eye. Ibuprofen was pretty effective. Nothing was broken and my vision seemed ok, so I got on with my work. I took it easy for a couple of days, but then the eye began to show signs of infection.

Pilots tend to be pretty cavalier about their health, but anything that might potentially ground them sends them running to the nearest clinic, preferably one that does not keep good records. Luckily, I don’t have to worry about the FAA on this one, as there was no abrasion of the cornea and the infection seems to be clearing with the prescribed antibiotic drops from the Peace Corps medical officer. Maybe I just did this in sympathy with Catherine.

I asked the country director if he thought the older volunteers were more fragile or more accident prone. He said no and that he had just had to send one of the young new volunteers home from pre-service training with a broken leg. All of the volunteers in my service group who are over the age of 50 have had health issues or injuries. Half have been medically separated from the Peace Corps.

I think the problem is that as we age we get used to our routines and supportive environment in our home community. Youngsters are not so enmeshed. Also, the Peace Corps medical services are very centralized in the country of service and the world, so any need for care pulls the volunteer out of the community and sometimes out the Peace Corps. In that, the treatment philosophy is like the military which relies of quick medical evacuation of wounded troops for comprehensive care. Unfortunately it is also the most psychologically stressful. Proximity of treatment and the maintenance of routines are techniques which the military has evolved to try to avoid secondary problems from “battle fatigue”. The Peace Corps does not seem to understand this and some of the problems I have heard of in the treatment of volunteers who have been medically separated and seen with Catherine’s care and other volunteers from my group may be a result of this. In her case, the disruption of waking up in London and then being plunked down in Tucson with an uncertain status and without a structured plan of treatment has been almost as stressful for her as recovering from the injury itself.

For me, my neighbors and Albanian friends called frequently and came by to visit. They brought gifts of food and probably would have brought raki, as well, if I drank alcohol. Actions of that sort seem to be reflexive among Albanians. Of course, I had to serve coffee and cookies to my visitors. Luckily, I have a pretty good stock in my pantry and my wonderful drip coffee maker allowed me to make coffee despite my physical impairments. I had to retell the story of my injury many times as my listeners intoned, “Bo, bo, bo, bo”, which is the shqip expression of sympathy. We would shake hands, hug with air kisses to both cheeks, and they would wish me “te shkuara” as they left. I would head back to my sofa and ice pack for a few minutes before the next group arrived at the door. I was also offered all manner of folk remedies, but I think I will limit the treatment of my eye to the prescribed eye drops, thank you.

Both before and after my misadventure, I have had visits from other Peace Corps volunteers to put dibs on my stuff. It is embarrassing how much I have accumulated in just two years, but a PC tradition is to pass it on to those remaining in the country. I wanted to give the volunteers in Korca first pick. One, from a previous group, who has returned to live in Korca because of an Albanian boyfriend, even recognized some of her stuff among my belongings, although she admitted a few items had been passed to her from her predecessors. The coffee maker will go to a volunteer who frequently has multiple houseguests passing through Korca. The matching dishes (service for 6) will go to another volunteer who likes to cook and entertain. Markers and crayons, and, especially, 3 by 5 cards are valued for teaching project. Good books are always passed around. I have some board games; Monopoly, Risk, Scrabble, and Twister. No one was particularly interested in Furgon Driver. There is not much novelty in something you live with every day. My oven thermometer, sewing kit, iron on patches for jeans, feather duster, and my large roll of duct tape elicited anticipatory cries.

My worn clothes will be given to the Catholic sisters for distribution in their work with the Roma community, although my coat, gloves and ski hat will go to Isufi and Macha for use at Bigell. My computer and associated paraphernalia are going to the older boy from Thane where I lived during PST (sadly, the boys never did get to Korca for a visit). I plan to travel pretty light on my way home and I hope not to have to ship anything.

The swelling on my face seemed to subside pretty quickly and the bruises almost look like a port-wine birthmark. People in Albania are very tolerant of abnormalities of appearance. They rarely seem to have benign growths removed from their face or neck. Large goiters are common. Noticeable limb abnormalities never seem to evoke a second look. I have been told it is part of the culture to accept “God’s will”, but maybe it is also because many are relatives or from large enough families that any disrespect would be avenged. I continued with my usual activities and even used my injury as a visual aid for a first aid lesson in my high school life skills class.

On Friday evening there was a string quartet recital at the Kultural Palace. They were from Tirana and played works by Mozart and Debussy. It was quite good and I noticed two things that were new to my experience in Albania. First, no cell phones went off during the entire performance. There were still noisy interruptions, however, as young people in cars, with political party flags flying, raced up and down the city streets, honking horns in support of their candidates. Second, after prolonged applause from the audience, the group played an encore.

Potential

2011-04-06T11:57:00.000-07:00

Just a couple of weeks into their pre-service training, the new group of volunteers that arrived in Albania in mid-March were sent to visit current volunteers throughout the country. Three came to Korca. They all will work in community development, so they were placed with the two volunteers in the city who work in that area. I joined them for dinner one night.

They are all young, eager and well educated; typical Peace Corps volunteers. I think there are only two over age 50 among the new arrivals. They all had the usual reasons for volunteering. They all seemed happy with their host families around Elbasan. They all seemed a bit frustrated and confused with the language and culture. After dinner they went to a new recreation center for young people. It was recently opened by the city government in the upstairs of a restored 19th century building. I checked it out, and they had done a nice job fixing the space, but it was loud and crowded. I left before my ears were too painful.

I offered to show them the trail to the top of the mountain, but they thought my usual 7:30 am start time on weekends was a bit too early, so I headed up the road to the cross by myself. There were lots of people out since it was a fine spring morning. I saw many of the regulars and we exchanged greetings.

It has warmed up considerably recently. We have had sunshine a few days in a row and temperatures have climbed into the upper 50’s. Daffodils and dandelions are blooming and fruit trees are in blossom; seems like it happened overnight. My neighbors across the alley from my kitchen window have spread out a large collection of shoes and sneakers which they are offering for sale (one seldom sees used household items or furniture, but used clothing is for sale everywhere in Albania). Several families came by to try on a pair or two and I could overhear lively discussions as to price and desirability. I don’t know how long this improvised shoe store will continue. The little general store which my other neighbors ran in their modified garage for years, recently closed when the government mandated that all such stores had to have electronic cash registers that could automatically calculate sales tax (20%). Most of shops like this only make a few dollars a day, and can’t justify the expenditure of a few hundred dollars for the required machine, so there has been a spate of closures around town. I have heard that in other cities, where the enforcement has been lax or the officials more readily paid off, this has not yet occurred.

My Peace Corps experience is limited to Albania, but I have worked in missionary projects in Vietnam and Mexico and have seen the same thing. When a market opens up, entrepreneurial people will jump at the chance to participate. It is only when it is closed by corruption or safety concerns or limited by transportation or other infrastructural needs that it fails to flourish, and even then, there is usually some attempt at commerce.

It seems to me that the best thing we can do for a developing country is to provide market opportunities. Isn’t that really what has helped China develop? Much of the West has provided markets for goods produced by inexpensive Chinese labor and the US Navy provides security for ocean transport. I sometimes think that providing money to a corrupt administration just incentivizes that element of society that finds it easier to steal than to create. That money can come from foreign aid, or from exploitation of natural resources, or from trafficking in drugs, women or children.

The Peace Corps, of course, gives young, eager, well intentioned and, mostly, inexperienced volunteers to do…what? It seems we hang out among “the people” for a couple of years and teach English or health topics or write grants (at least that is the menu in Albania); nothing there to motivate the kleptocracy that rules much of the developing world. I am not sure exactly how it fits into any model of foreign aid. Some projects I have seen do seem to have potential, like the cross border project between Macedonia and Albania to stimulate a garment production industry. The community development volunteer in Korca has been busy with that and seems to be accomplishing something.

The effects of my projects seem more nebulous. Dr. Isufi is making great progress in his training. He is a quick study and eagerly reads through any material I provide. Our course is frequently interrupted by people just barging into the clinic room where we work. One day it kind of got to me, but Isuf just shrugged his shoulders and said, “It is Albania”.

Work with the environmental test equipment at the public health department has been slower. One day we spent an hour learning to turn the apparatus on and off. There is a button on the gadget that is pretty clearly marked as a power switch, but I had difficulty getting that concept across. After we finally achieved consistent performance, we all went out for coffee to celebrate. Later this week we will tackle storing data and downloading it to a computer for analysis. I am working hard to figure out how to present this. Given the problems we have had, I am not optimistic we will accomplish much except consuming prodigious amounts of caffeine.

My life skills class at high school is going ok. My co-teacher is away in the US, having a baby there to procure the child an American passport. I am not confident she will return. There may be another teacher to take the class when I leave, but it will likely revert to the passive pedagogical practice that characterizes the system here. I doubt that the more active curriculum I developed last year will persist in any form, so this time I am doing lesson plans that conform more closely to the textbook. I am also being stricter with the kids if they are disruptive. Isufi has told me repeatedly that when I go home I will be part Albanian. Perhaps he is right.

Catherine continues to spin her wheels in Arizona. Really, except for her evaluations she probably could have done her rehab here in Albania and received a more active program. Fortunately, her clever nephew had the idea to look up computer programs used by the VA for returning Iraqi and Afghan war vets with brain injury. The two of them went down to the local computer store and purchased a couple for Catherine to work on. He works at a Walgreens, and I know Americans often go to the drug store to inquire after over the counter remedies. Catherine is also going to a local gym to participate in an exercise class. Maybe “do-it-yourself” rehab is what the PC had in mind all along. At least there will be no impediment to her continuing this when she heads back home to rural Oklahoma.

In spite of this, I still think she has the potential for a pretty good, if not complete recovery. Unfortunately, it will not be in time for her to return to Europe for our post PC travel plans. Right now I am not confident she will be able even to do the US part of our plans, so I have checked into changing our tickets to shorten my travel time alone and get myself home to Idaho. It is amazing how little credit the airlines give you when you have to change your travel plans. The US portion of our tickets actually cost almost twice as much to change as to buy entirely new tickets with another airline. Europe is more regulated, so I don’t think it will be too bad if I use the value of Catherine’s ticket to come back home a bit earlier, although I have offered it for free to any of the other volunteers in my group who is willing to pay the transfer fee.

This is not the finale I had envisioned for my two years of service, but, I suppose it will have to do. I have been working on my “Final Site Evaluation” document, one of many that is required at end of service (I have learned of this piecemeal, since I missed the classes on this held at the Close of Service conference when I was in London). There are four categories for projects: finished, unfinished, abandoned, and just an idea (never started, but has potential). I have had my share of all of these, and for a lot more in life than just the Peace Corps.

Old Woman Days

2011-03-25T02:39:00.000-07:00

I remember hiking in the mountains a while ago with another volunteer, who remarked how dry the winter had been. I reminded him that a few months prior most of the country had been flooded to the extent that several of the volunteers had to be evacuated from coastal cities. He replied that yes, but since then it had been very dry. It was a day that was sunny, but cold. The snow underfoot had a dry, crunchy feel. He often comes out with proclamations of this sort and I know from experience there is no point getting into a discussion on the topic.

Anyway, I have thought about that more than a few times the past couple of weeks. It has been consistently cold and rainy. Each morning when I look up at the mountains to the east with the thought of a walk towards the cross, I am put off by the fog, clouds and virga swirling along the route to the top. I crawl back into my down sleeping bag for a few minutes extra sleep before I force myself to get up and do my exercise routine. I carry my umbrella as I walk around the city and may actually get to use it if the wind isn’t blowing too hard. Otherwise I pull the hood up on my Gortex shell over my Polartec jacket. Since the inside of an Albanian building may not be any warmer than outside, I am grateful for modern textiles.

I mentioned that the weather was not very spring-like and Isufi explained that these cold, wet days were called “dita e plaka” (old woman days) that come at the vernal equinox as a harbinger of the good weather to follow. He suggested drinking raki as an antidote to the cold. This was not a big surprise since raki is widely prescribed by Albanians as a panacea for all things internal and external. Since I don’t drink, I guess I’ll just have to rely on layered clothing.

Catherine, in Tucson, has complained about the heat and aridity. I try to be sympathetic, but I’d bet it sounds feigned. She is finally undergoing evaluation at Barrows. She sat around without much direction for almost a month and it is progressing so slowly that even if everything comes out perfect she is unlikely to be able to complete it before I finish in Albania. I have delayed my planned close of service date by about a week and I will have to figure out what I will do with the plane tickets that I already purchased. I have some friends from the high school where I teach who are planning a trip to Montenegro and Croatia and I will likely go with them, continuing on by myself to Slovenia, Hungary, Austria and Germany. The flight from Berlin to New York leaves mid June.

There are several things that need to be done before I leave Albania. All volunteers have to write a Description of Service report. The hardest thing for me in writing this will be selecting among all the various activities I have engaged with in Korca. This is supposed to be an important document for returned Peace Corps volunteers to be used for future employment or grad school. I am not looking to go back to grad school yet again (I have had plenty, thank you) and I doubt that my Peace Corps service will be much of a factor in my prospects for future employment. I am thinking of going back to at least part time work, since I think I would be bored just sitting around and there are some things I talked about with some folks when I was home visiting that sounded interesting. I also know there are plenty of volunteer service needs back home in Idaho.

I am fortunate in that. Some of the young volunteers are pretty scared about the job market back home. Friends of mine, who left Albania early because she needed “emergency” knee surgery, have been in limbo, still waiting after months for authorization for the surgery and not able to leave their family to widen the employment options for him and she can’t start a new job and then be out for extended physical therapy. It seems like sending people home after illness or injury without any direction or support is a Peace Corps pattern. That was one of the complaints voiced by the former volunteers in the television piece about dangers of Peace Corps service, and another volunteer I know, who went home after emergency abdominal surgery in Albania, also has complaints about the medical follow up provided for her. I don’t understand what the Peace Corps’ problem is with this. It really isn’t that hard to do a good job and it saves money in the long run, not to mention avoids embarrassing publicity. Maybe it is just another sign of inherent bureaucratic incompetence.

As is apparently a typical experience for volunteers, some of my counterparts have reacted to the sudden realization that I am leaving soon by thinking up lots of new projects they would like to do before I leave. I have politely declined most of the suggestions and have made clear for those that I have accepted that I am leaving in less than two months, no matter where we might be in these activities. I also have things I will need to do in preparation for leaving, and those will get priority. I would bet that they will have to be reminded of this when I pack up and pull out. They have already asked me who is coming to replace me. I don’t know. That is, as we say, above my pay grade. I am just a volunteer after all.

That is not to say that I will not miss my many Albanian friends. Every day a dozen or so walk up to me and ask about Catherine and ask me to give her their good wishes. The other volunteers in Permet have told me that they cannot walk down the street without being stopped repeatedly for the same reason. The documents from the close of service conference talk about readjustment problems for return Peace Corps volunteers. One that I read mentions volunteers feeling special and loved by a service community and that young volunteers miss that feeling when they return home. However run down or trashy your neighborhood might be, it is home with a daily routine that one has grown accustomed to. At this point, it is no longer stressful and it is the prospect of the high speed, high stress pace of American life that is daunting. It will probably be easier for an oldster like me who does not face prospects of a difficult economy or grad school that the youngsters do.

Also, among the conference documents is also a close of service check list. It is pretty long and I need to get started if I am to get through it in the seven weeks I have left. That seems like hardly any time at all. First though, I am looking forward to the promised good weather to resume my daily morning walks up the mountain. It really helps me keep things in perspective and focus on the tasks at hand.

Fshati

2011-03-14T23:40:00.000-07:00

It seems that most of my friends in Korca have some attachment to a village (fshat) somewhere in the region. They may still have relatives living there or even own an old house and a garden. They prize the apples or figs from their trees and opine that the wine or raki, made from their grapes or berries, is the best in the country. The air and water are better there. Palo and Moza, my landlords, go to Dardhe. Fehmi has a place in Kapshtica, outside of the small city of Bilisht. Isufi has Bigell. I go to see my host family in Thane.

I had promised Catherine’s host family and my family that I would visit as soon as I could after I got back from London. It was the only way to stop them from phoning constantly. Last weekend there was snow and ice on the road over the Qafe e Thane, the pass over the mountain between Lake Ohrid and the Skumbin River that flows from huge springs under the Qafe e Thane through the center of the country, including Elbasan. This weekend warmed up a bit and the road was dry. I took the bus on Saturday morning.

Monday was also the Muslim Dita e Veres, summers day and a national holiday. Elbasan is predominantly Muslim and has a festival that draws a crowd from all over the country. There was a stage set up on the boulevard in front of the castle in central Elbasan. Music- traditional Albanian, rock, rap, Brazilian and more blared over the loud speakers. There were so many people pushing and shoving in the throng that surged around the stage that it felt like what passes for a line at the post office. Ballakume, the traditional cookie for Dita e Veres, were on sale everywhere. Over the weekend the price dropped from 110 lek to 80 lek.

On Saturday night, a large group of volunteers, mostly from Group 13, but a couple from my group 12, met at an Elbasan volunteer’s home for green curry rice and vegetables. Albanian food is wholesome and fresh but tends to be pretty bland. One of the volunteers had received the curry spice in a care package from home. It was a welcome change.

Sunday morning I took the old Udhetari (travelers) bus that I rode so often during PST out to Thane. My host mother was working in the carrot patch in her garden as I walked up to the house. Her older son was sleeping up stairs, the younger son was playing with friends, her husband was working in Greece and her mother-in-law was visiting her son who works in Italy and lives there with his family (the recent easing of the visa requirements for Albanians to visit eurozone countries has let her go there twice since November).

She called her older boy down. He has been studying English at the Turkish college he attends in Cerrik, a small city just beyond Thane. He is actually getting pretty good. The younger boy has filled out a lot and is still very athletic. He had been playing soccer with his buddies and had been called home to see me. She served coffee and fruit and then went to work making homemade ballakume with fresh eggs from her hens, hand churned butter from cream she milked from her cows that morning, and corn meal from her harvest last summer. The sugar was from beets grown elsewhere in Albania, although I suppose she could have used honey from her hives as a sweetener instead. In less than 20 minutes they were served hot from the oven and were much better than any I have eaten previously.

Her sister and her two young daughters came over from next door. Jesika, who is now 9, was the one with whom I played “Tjeter” (other) to find words for various categories of nouns when I was first learning Albanian. Her younger sister, Vanesa, has also grown a lot. I was pleased that she remembered me, although I had been told that she frequently asked where I was when I left for Korca after PST. We all chatted easily (my Albanian is not as good as some of the younger volunteers who by now speak fluently and are hard to distinguish from native speakers, but I can carry on a conversation). They asked about Catherine, of course, and talked about the volunteers they had from group 13 and the new ones they expect next weekend as Group 14 is due to arrive to begin Pre-service Training on Wednesday.

Liri, Catherine’s host mother stopped in as she had heard that I was in the village. I assured her I was coming there next. My host mother insisted that this would be after dreken (lunch). She served meat and vegetable soup, salad, yoghurt and homemade bread to us all. A short time afterwards I headed a few blocks away to visit Comeri and Liri and their family.

Of course, coffee and homemade ballakume were served. I had to argue forcefully that no, I did not want to eat lunch again, and was having a hard time getting down yet another ballakume, no matter how good they were. That seemed to satisfy Liri, although she did give me a few to take with me. I apologized to Comeri that he had not been shown the respect he deserved when he had come to the hospital in Tirana to see Catherine. He seemed to accept that and appreciate the apology, which, in itself, was a sign of respect. This family was not having another volunteer stay with them, although this was attributed to an upcoming wedding for the next daughter who had recently been engaged and not to any hard feelings towards the Peace Corps.

We talked a lot about Catherine as they are very close to her. Aldi, the older of my host family’s boys, offered to help them Skype with Catherine from a village lokal that has internet. I thought the coffee shop in Thane had really progressed when they stopped butchering cows in the middle of the room while you were drinking your coffee, but now they have a computer with a web cam. Things are changing quickly in Albania, even in Thane.

I walked back over to my host family’s house. Several people from the village came outside to say hello, including Beni, my host family’s nephew who looks like the Fonz. I enjoyed talking with him, although he is not working and spends his days hanging out at the lokal. I think my family is not happy with him. He tried to sneak into Greece to get work, but was caught and sent back. Apparently, he has not done much since.

I did extract a promise from my host mother that she would send the two boys to Korca for a couple of days next week. There is a school holiday for Sultan Nevruz. I have off from Preka as well and would love to show them Korca. They have never visited there before, even though it is less than 100 miles from Elbasan. I had given them money for the furgon ride before and next week would be a great opportunity as there is also not a lot of farm work right now. They were excited at the prospect, although their mother complained that she would be lonely without them. One of their neighbors is a furgon driver between Elbasan and Korca and she plans to send them with him. I think they may actually come.

Besides Dita e Veres, Monday was my two year anniversary in the Peace Corps. Although the term of service is technically 27 months and my official close of service date is May 27th, volunteers in my group can leave early with the permission of the country director. This is usually related to school or job opportunities. Some in my group are starting graduate programs. A few are going to teaching or training programs in Europe or Asia. Sometimes health issues are involved. One couple is leaving for graduate school and she is pregnant. Even if she has a speedy and full recovery, as we continue to hope, Catherine would not likely be allowed to return to Albania as a volunteer. What is not clear at this point is whether she will have a medical discharge or just close her service in the US. She is scheduled for an evaluation at a well respected treatment program in Phoenix and we are hoping, at least, for answers to our many questions regarding recommended therapy and prognosis.

I have not yet set a close of service date. I have enough unused leave that I can close anytime in May, or even a bit before if I want, but I am committed to working with Isufi and Jani and teaching my Life Skills class while the main teacher is off on maternity leave. I will probably shorten my travel through Europe to just a few cities I would like to see before I head home. I already have our tickets from Berlin in mid-June and I am not sure how easy they are to change. I was supposed to set a date at the Close of Service conference that I missed while I was in London. The staff has been very understanding and has not pressed me for a decision as we all anxiously wait for information from Arizona.

Back in Korca

2011-02-28T11:25:00.000-08:00

Thursday morning I watched Catherine and her sister get into a London cab and drive off to Heathrow. The Peace Corps was flying them first class to Dallas, with a connection to Tucson. She has done remarkably well and the rate of early recovery is the best prognostic sign for brain injury. We have good reason to be hopeful. The latest plan was for her to see a doctor in Tucson early the following week and then request a referral to Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix for a comprehensive assessment.

I walked around Kensington Park for the rest of the day and then took the Underground to Heathrow for my flight. I had scheduled to fly through Rome and then on to Tirana. Flights in that direction had some problems, perhaps related to the evacuations from Libya. I had to rearrange my flights but, after spending the night on a bench in Terminal 4, was able to leave early the next morning on a flight to Rome with a close connecting flight. The flight was slightly delayed and then parked on the ramp, so we had to be bused to the terminal. I raced through security and then to the departure gate where we boarded another bus. We were taken to a plane almost next to the one on which I had arrived. I had hoped my inbound flight would park near my connecting flight. I have to be more specific on what I wish for.

I caught the bus from Mother Teresa International to the city center and then walked to the Peace Corps office. I walked past the dentist’s office and tried to figure out where Catherine had been hit. There were so many potential places. As one rides on buses or furgons through Albania one see many marble shrines to mark places where people have been killed in accidents. They usually have a name, dates, a photograph and some artificial flowers. One can see similar, but makeshift, markers along roads in Idaho.

I spoke with the country director and other staff that had been so helpful following Catherine’s accident. I thanked them for their support and understanding. It almost made up for the bad experience I had with the nurse that came out to London from the Peace Corps office in DC. I tried to take care of some of the administrative items from the Close of Service conference that had been held in Korca while I was away. Maybe it was jet lag, but when I tried to open the files I downloaded at the office in Tirana, my computer wouldn’t cooperate. Maybe I’ll figure it out when I catch up on my sleep.

I had phone calls and texts from friends, both volunteer and Albanian. Now that I was back in Albania and knew they wouldn’t be exorbitantly charged, I took the calls and thanked them for their concern. I promised to visit Catherine’s host family as soon as I could. When I walked into my apartment, I found a banner above the kitchen door from all the volunteers who were at Close of Service conference. It was covered with notes welcoming me home and wishing Catherine a quick recovery. There was even a cut out of a jet. How appropriate.

Saturday morning, I sorted through the large bag that the Peace Corps staff had left in my apartment with all the pieces of the medical machine I had brought back for Dr. Isufi. He arranged for his son to drive to my apartment and bring it to his office. In the afternoon, after assembling the pieces with glue and tape, we plugged it in. Much to my amazement it worked and successfully went through the set up test program. The French baggage handlers that had dropped kicked the box marked “fragile” across the tarmac in Paris had been thwarted by tough, US made construction. We went out for coffee to celebrate, but I begged off a celebratory dinner. I needed sleep more than food. Also, we still have to make sure it functions correctly, so a celebration is a bit premature.

On Sunday morning, I met the volunteer from Bilisht who is leaving early. She has been a good friend of Catherine and me, and it was sad to see her off on the furgon to Tirane. After that, I walked to the church where I met my friends from Preka School and the group of nuns who have also been such good friends. I thanked them for all their support and prayers. We have a lot to be thankful for.

The afternoon was sunny and bright and not too cold. Another volunteer from Korca and I hiked up the road to Mborja, a village east of Korca, and along a gravel road by a creek in a canyon leading into the mountains. We doubled back along a side canyon, through a shallow covering of snow under a grove of pine trees, and clambered up to the ridge where the cross overlooks Korca. We walked back along the paved road in the late afternoon. Benny, the caretaker at St. Theodor’s, a small orthodox church I frequently visit on my morning walks up the mountain, was working on the grounds. When he saw me he ran out to the road to enthusiastically welcome me back. I showed the interior to the other volunteer. It has some of my favorite icons in Albania and, thanks to Benny, it is well maintained.

Later in the evening, I met my friend Lawrence for coffee. Even though he is from Malta, he appears to have picked up some Albanian customs from his long tenure in Korca, so, of course, it involved a meal as well. I may be wrong. Malta is part of the Levant and may have its own, similar, tradition of hospitality. They are certainly taking in thousands of refugees from Libya, including hundreds of Americans that were recently brought there by ferry from Tripoli.

Monday, I went to the health education office at the Directorate of Public Health. The nurses and lab technicians I work with all asked about Catherine and wished her the traditional wish for a speedy recovery, which, in Albanian is “te shkuare”, that is, “to be as you were in the past”. That seems both an apt and difficult wish.

I also learned that my nurse counterpart was enthusiastic about going to a meeting in Tirana on Tuesday at the Ministry of Health. This was planned to honor the work of Peace Corps health education volunteers throughout Albania and to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps. All the volunteers, staff and principal counterparts had been invited. I was hoping she would beg off because she has so much work to do in her home, taking care of her young son, her husband and his parents, as is the responsibility of young Albanian wives. She felt this meeting was a special one, and worth the trip. Although I would rather remain in Korca and work on my projects with Dr. Isufi, Dr. Jani and at the Preka School, it would be awkward for her to be without “her volunteer”. I don’t look forward to another nine hours in furgons to and from Tirana and, yet another night at Fredi’s. Maybe I can also stand in for Catherine with her counterpart nurse from Permet. I know that would please Catherine.

This is London

2011-02-19T09:01:00.000-08:00

With a few minor delays we all finally arrived in London. Catherine came by air ambulance, her sister and older daughter by American Airlines from Dallas and me and the younger daughter by British Air from Tirana. Transport from the Gatwick to Kensington was made more interesting by a Monty Pythonesque experience of each information desk person giving conflicting instructions. For example, we were sent back and forth twice between tracks going in opposite directions at Victoria Station and then the tube station where we were told to get off turned out to be wrong. We finally got in a cab and were safely delivered to the hotel the Peace Corps had reserved. The cab driver questioned me if I meant to give him so large a tip. I assured him I did. Since the PC is supposed to be an austere organization and relies so heavily on the internet for communication, it would have been considerate had they booked a hotel that was no quite so expensive or had internet service for less than $15 an hour extra, but at least it was walking distance from the hospital. We all settled into our rooms and then headed over to the ICU at Cromwell Hospital.

England is much more liberal than Albania for visiting hours and they were also much more aggressive in getting Catherine awake and off the ventilator. They changed her to short acting medications and, after repeating the CT Scan the next morning, began to taper sedation. Catherine showed some worrisome signs of increased tone and posturing which I later found out were likely due to the medications, but then opened her eyes and began breathing. Soon the endotracheal tube was removed and she was talking. Much to my relief, she remembered who I was. By afternoon she was taking a few bites of food and sips of coffee and sitting up briefly in a bedside chair.

On Saturday morning the rest of her tubes were removed and she was transferred out of the ICU to a private room on a locked ward. She was mostly talking appropriately, but a bit confused, confabulating and impulsive. Still, her underlying charming self was evident, as she was smiling, joking and enthusiastic. She had some mild difficulties with balance and coordination. Physical and respiratory therapies were continuing, but occupational and speech therapy did not work weekends at this hospital and she would not be seen for evaluation until Monday. This is where going to a hospital more specialized in brain injury would have been beneficial, but at this point, it is not causing any significant problem. I would like her to get a thorough evaluation rather than gloss over any deficits, since these are better attended to early on rather than trying to be remediated after they create untoward complications. The nurse from the PC office in DC does not seem to agree with that, but I don’t think it is an unreasonable request. She has made it clear that because I am not family, I really don’t have any say in the matter. Maybe it is too much to ask that since I am also a Peace Corps volunteer who has been affected by this accident, she might have some duty to be a bit more considerate of my feelings, but I can’t fault her for being focused on Catherine. We all should be. Whatever, we’ll see what Catherine’s attending neurosurgeon thinks, although I haven’t seen him around since yesterday morning. I think he has been busy with surgery at another hospital.

Catherine was pretty upset at waking up outside of Albania, but seems to be accepting the fact that her Peace Corps service is completed. I expect that when she is well enough to travel on commercial airlines, with her daughter and sister as escort, she will be transported stateside for whatever rehabilitative care she requires. If I am able to weigh in on the decision, it will be in a program of the highest competence and reputation. When that is accomplished, I plan to head back to Korca to finish up my projects. If Catherine does well enough, maybe she can fly back to Albania to say a proper “mirupafshim” to her many Albanian friends and her fellow volunteers and PC Albania staff. Maybe that is a lot to hope for, but the fact that I can consider it at all seems nothing short of a miracle.

Reanimacioni

2011-02-17T11:40:00.000-08:00

I had planned to write this next post about the Close of Service conference which is scheduled in Korca next week. As I said before, plans change. “Reanimacioni” is the Albanian word for Intensive Care. I saw that word for the first time by the elevator in Spitali Hygeia in Tirana on Tuesday evening.

A few minutes after I walked into my apartment in Korca for the first time in more than two weeks, my cell phone rang. It was Fredi, who rents inexpensive rooms to Peace Corps volunteers who stay in Tirana and provides all manner of helpful services for volunteers as they learn to navigate the busy capital city. He told me he had just learned that Catherine had been taken to Military Hospital. This is the hospital that all ambulances take patients to in Tirana. I immediately called the Peace Corps medical officer and was told that she and the country director were on the way to the hospital. I tried to call Catherine. A short while later, the medical officer phoned to say that Catherine had been hit by a car and they were having her transferred to one of the new and well staffed private hospitals in Tirana, Spitali Hygeia. I had noticed the large, modern building when we rode the bus into town on Friday. I think I pointed it out to Catherine. The country director got on the phone and authorized me to leave my site and come to Tirana. That was nice of him, but I was on my way, whatever. I walked past the city center to the furgon stop and caught a ride with the same driver who had driven me from Tirana in the morning.

Several calls on the long ride back told me that Catherine had been hit by a car when crossing a busy street while walking back to Fredi’s from her close of service dentist appointment. The older lady who had hit her had actually stopped to help. This is unusual in Albania where any accident will result in protracted hassles from the police. She had contacted Fredi by calling the last number dialed on the cell phone. Fredi called the Peace Corps office and then called me. At first, she did not seem severely injured, but was confused and combative and then lapsed into coma. Rather than have me take a bus or a cab across Tirana to the hospital, the country director arranged to have a Peace Corps car meet me outside the US Embassy which is on the furgon route into Tirana. This was both worrisome and appreciated.

The Peace Corps programming and training officer was in the car. As we drove to Spitali Hygeia, he told me the Peace Corps office in Washington, DC, was contacting Catherine’s family and would make decisions about medical evacuation, if necessary. He offered to let me stay at his apartment, if I wanted. We met the medical officer and her Albanian assistant at the hospital reception area and took the elevator upstairs. The neurosurgeon spoke with me, and, after gowning and washing our hands with disinfectant, led us in to see Catherine.

It was a scene I have seen many times before, but never from the perspective of a loved one. She was unresponsive with tubes in her nose and mouth. I held her hand and stood there as long as they let me. After half an hour, increasing levels in the chain of command of the ICU nurses asked me to leave. I resisted until the ICU medical director explained that they wanted to limit stimulation and would I please leave now. This seemed a bit strange since stimulation is a main treatment of arousal problems, such as coma. Otherwise the medical care seemed fine. I tried hard not to be confrontational. This is a bit of a stretch for me. Perhaps I have learned something in the Peace Corps. Maybe it is just old age.

The next day, Catherine’s daughter arrived from Germany where she works at a hotel in the Alps. I had only met her once before when she visited Albania before starting her new job. Several of our good friends from our group came to Tirana to offer help and moral support. Many others emailed and texted kind words and a willingness to help in any way needed. Thank you very much, it meant a lot.
Many Albanian friends from Korca , Permet, Thane and Tirana called and some came to the hospital, although few were allowed in to see her. All were shocked and concerned. We have two groups of nuns in Korce and Bolivia, the Precca Society, Greek Orthodox, Muslim and Jewish friends busy praying. We have remarkable coverage. Inshalla, Catherine will have a rapid recovery and be incredibly angry that she was taken out of Albania before she could finish her service. She had planned to travel to Leskovik on Friday to do her breast cancer presentation for a group of women at the medical clinic and then travel on to Korca for the conference.

The Peace Corps office in Washington decided to transfer Catherine to a hospital in London. I don’t know much about this institution, but I have asked knowledgeable friends back home for their opinion. Meanwhile, Catherine moved and responded a bit when they allowed the level of sedation to decrease slightly. Other family members are meeting us in London tomorrow afternoon. We’ll see how things go. I am hopeful, but realistic and considering rehabilitation possibilities in the US. We will have to consider PC preferences, and I have to respect that I am not family and really have no say in the matter.

The day of her transfer, the country director drove us to the hospital for a last visit on the way to the airport. Her site mates from Permet came with us to see us off. Catherine’s host family from Thane was at the hospital, the father, two daughters and a son-in-law. They wanted to see Catherine, even though I had told them repeatedly when I phoned the night before that they would not likely be allowed to see her. I don’t think the authorities realized how close Catherine is with this family or maybe they judged them by their worn clothes, not realizing that they had worn the best clothing they owned. They were obviously hurt and felt a lack of respect that is probably the most significant offense in Albanian culture. This was assuaged by taking the whole group to coffee in the hospital café. There were many toasts to Catherine’s speedy recovery. I promised them we will return to visit them in Thane and made their youngest daughter promise to work hard in school, as Catherine would want. We parted at the hospital entrance and headed off to Mother Teresa International.

The country director was kind enough to grant me administrative leave to follow Catherine through her initial treatment. This is extremely considerate, since, again, I am not family. I have up to 45 days, which saves me from the prospect of early termination. I appreciate that. I have projects that I wanted to complete before leaving Albania, but there are other priorities for now.

A Visit Home

2011-02-16T11:40:00.000-08:00

I am posting this because the whole purpose of this blog was to relate my “Peace Corps experience” and my visit home was certainly an important part of that. Anyway, it is mostly written. The next post, however, supersedes this one. The next post supersedes everything.

Pilot lore has a “rule of three”. If three or more glitches occur in the preparation for any flight, a wise pilot puts the plane back in the hangar and launches on another day. Accidents are forged by a chain of events. Break any of the links and disaster may be averted. As they say, “it is much better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air, than in the air wishing you were on the ground”.

My first trip home in almost two years was in early February. This was timed to allow me to attend a required course to renew my instructor pilot certificate. This is easily done with a two day course, with the stipulation that it be renewed before it expires. Reinstating it after expiration is a bear. I had taken the course just before I left home to join the Peace Corps, but it is only good for two years. A Peace Corps term of service is 27 months. While the course can be taken on-line, the paper work has to be submitted in person so the applicant can be verified by government, picture ID. The Peace Corps allows three “free” leave days related to courses needed to renew professional licenses. Attending the class at home had the added benefit of seeing my old instructor pilot buddies that I have done this biannual requirement with for the past two decades.

I had to leave for Tirana a day early since the protests on the Friday before I left had resulted in three deaths and scores of injured and on the Friday I planned to travel to the airport there was protest of that. The Peace Corps security officer let me know that a “stand fast” order would be in effect on Friday, beginning at 8:30 AM. That meant I had to stay where I was at that time. To comply I had to travel the day before to Tirana and stay the night with a friend in the city. I got on the 8 AM bus from Korca to Tirana. After waiting half an hour, the driver told us there were not enough passengers, so there would be no bus today. The passengers got off the bus and found furgons instead. The next morning I caught the airport bus and loitered for 20 hours until my flight was scheduled to depart. This was probably a good idea for me personally, since my route of travel required me to walk across the center of the city in the middle of the time of the protest. I read a couple of books and had a great meal at the airport café (for about $8. Try that at any other international airport in the world). The custodians at the Tirana airport were very nice about letting me sleep on the benches. At 2:30 AM I was able to check my bags all the way to Boise. My flights to Budapest, then Paris, then Salt Lake, then Boise even left on time.

There was a list of 50 items or so to accomplish. These included everything from meeting with my accountant to go over tax stuff to donating blood. With the help of many friends, I was able to get through most of it. In fact, if I haven’t explicitly said this, Peace Corps service, especially at an advanced age, requires the help of many people back home. These include my trusted friends who have my power of attorney and have sent in tuition checks for a kid in college, signed contracts for rental of my home, made money transfers so I could pay my taxes, and so many other things. I have already mentioned my aviation friends who have supported the Aviation Club of Korca. It continues, mostly to their credit, to the benefit of kids from kindergarten to high school. I have no doubt it is unique in the Balkans, and probably in the Peace Corps, as well. My home librarian helped me get online books on tape and e-books, something that has been invaluable. My banker helped immensely when the arrangements I made before I left proved to be wrong. The people in my former office let me know about important mail and helped me solve many problems. The staff office of my institution helped repeatedly with questions that arose about online access and email. Good friends helped with storage of furniture, boxes of books, clothes, papers and accumulated detritus of 60 years. My old convertible is on blocks in the hangar of a good friend and will be great to drive when I get home next summer. That same friend made sure I had wheels while I was home for my visit. Even my sprinkler guy sends me encouraging emails from time to time. I think the Peace Corps should provide some recognition of partial Peace Corps service for those back home, who make it possible for volunteers to work abroad for 27 months. In my case for sure it is definitely a group effort. If I have not officially thanked all of you, I would like to do so now.

I got in some skiing and some flying and even did a clinic to benefit two worthy local causes (Wilderness Within Reach which flies disabled people to backcountry ranches for a weekend each summer, and ACE Academy put on by the State division of aeronautics to teach high school students about careers in aviation- I wish I could enroll some from the Aviation Club of Korca in that). Dinners and parties were appreciated, and, while it was absolutely wonderful to see everyone, I did gain about five pounds.

As planned, I packed mostly books and donated equipment for my counterparts in Albania for the trip back. This included a 20X20X20 inch box of electronics for Dr. Isufi, the number one item on his wish list when we first met. It barely complied with the current weight and size limits for the airlines. It was well padded and marked “fragile” and had my name and address of the Peace Corps office in Tirana written on it inside and out. No doubt you have guessed that it wasn’t on the carousel at Tirana International after I arrived.

It was a chain of errors, of course. I should have checked more carefully on the routing when I checked in. I should have checked at each stop to make sure it was transferred, especially in Paris where it had to change airlines, but I was lulled into a false sense of security by the ease with which my large checked bag had made it home. I had forgotten another flying maxim, “when everything seems to be going right, you are obviously missing something”.

I spent the weekend in Tirana because the Peace Corps medical officer had scheduled my close of service physical exam for Monday. This has to be done within 90 days of leaving and we wanted to use my travel through Tirana to get it out of the way. My friend, Catherine, from Permet, met me at the airport to help with the large box that never came. With my still limited Albanian, I filed a missing baggage claim with the lost luggage office at the airport. Early the next morning I emailed Delta and Malev airlines to ask for help. On Monday, I talked with the Peace Corps staff and enlisted their help as well. I fretted as each day passed and I heard nothing.

Catherine and I celebrated Valentine’s Day under this cloud. We went to a wonderful Italian restaurant in the trendy Bloku district of Tirana and went to a French pastry shop for dessert not far from that. I left early the next morning to catch the bus back to Korca. There was no bus again, so I caught a furgon. Before I got to Elbasan I got a call that the box had been found, but was damaged. The Peace Corps staff was arranging for it to be delivered to them and they would bring it next weekend when they came for the Close of Service conference at the Hotel Grand in Korca beginning on Sunday. I worried if all the pieces would be there or if it would still function.

Safety

2011-01-16T03:47:00.000-08:00

The Peace Corps Safety Officer for Albania sent out an email to the volunteers advising us that there was a program scheduled to air on ABC television that would feature a story on murder and sexual assault of Peace Corps volunteers. She warned it might elicit concerned messages from home. My service group had already been touched by the story of the murder of a volunteer in Africa when three days after arriving in Albania one young woman left for home. The explanation was that her parents were concerned about her safety after hearing the news from Benin. Her befuddled host family worried if it was something they did or said.

I was able to watch the video at ABC online. It showed a group of young women, interviewed Oprah style while they sat on white stools of varying height. They tearfully related their stories of assaults and the callousness of the PC response. Then there were snippets of an interview with the current deputy director of the Peace Corps. She came across as defensive and uncaring. I am certain she had no say in how the broadcast was edited.

Now, I have pretty low expectations of the Peace Corps bureaucracy. It is an agency of the federal government, after all. I also have low expectations of television. ABC exposing a story on risks of mistreatment of Americans, especially young woman, in the third world is like NASCAR doing an expose about how high school driver’s ed doesn’t do enough to educate young people about the dangers of speeding.

The Peace Corps does have a safety officer for each country (ours is an Albanian national) and a regional safety director (an American, who happens to be based in Tirana). Sometimes their advice isn’t the most useful, but I don’t think they are unconcerned or uncaring. We have had safety lectures at all of our conferences, including videos on risks of sexual assault and robbery. They have pulled volunteers from uncomfortable situations and reassigned them, either in their community or in another location within the country. We were advised from the outset that most of our security comes from local friends and neighbors who look out for us. Most of us also have site mates who can be called upon to help. Is that so different from many places in the US? Can we rely on quick and effective response from authorities in cases of harassment or domestic disputes at home?

The ABC story, of course, didn’t mention any of that. It didn’t talk about safety programs or staff. It didn’t mention site mates as potential help. It didn’t provide any perspective as to the length of time that was included in their story or the number of volunteers at risk. I have read that one in four women reports a history of sexual assault at college. Is serving in a community in a developing country riskier than that?

ABC should see how American media portrays our culture to the third world. Excessive sex and violence must seem like the norm in America. The media is quick to blame intemperate speech when a madman shoots innocent people outside a store in Tucson, but doesn’t recognize the risk of its own intemperance influencing the behavior of people abroad. Countering that impression is one of the good, and, unfortunately, sometimes brave things that Peace Corps volunteers do.

Does it really require the investigative might of ABC News to show that federal bureaucracy is insensitive and inept, or that young women tear up when they relate details of sexual assault? Did the ABC newsperson think, as he rode in his limo from his tony suburban enclave through neighborhoods much more dangerous than a third world slum, that a thorough investigation would include going to Bangladesh to interview young men on the street who would rape a young American Peace Corps volunteer or condone those who did? Did he think about meeting their families or learning about their culture and community? Did he think about what he or ABC News could do to change that?

That doesn’t excuse the PC for a lack of sensitivity and compassion in dealing with the women in the story. I have not been impressed with what I have personally seen of how the bureaucrats deal with volunteers with physical injuries, but, as I said, having seen bureaucrats in “action” over the years, I am not surprised. I would think a better response from the deputy director of the Peace Corps would have been to acknowledge the problem and to cite investigations and remedies that had been undertaken. Perhaps she did, but ABC edited it out.

My general impression is that the Peace Corps is well intentioned, but often confused and misdirected. Yet it is almost unique among American institutions in its approach to the world. It is not trying to convert or pacify. It does not spread American largesse. It is simply an effort to meet the larger world on a one-to-one basis, a world where there are incredible inequities and challenges, to get to know them and they us, and to help, a bit, if we can. It sends mostly young people with the time, education and inclination to volunteer, and, a few oldsters, as well.

I think the ABC News story, on the occasion of the 50th anniversary year of the founding of the Peace Corps, was a cheap shot. But it does not take an investigative team to figure out that television is superficial and self-serving. Maybe the problem is not that Big Brother is watching us, but that so many people around the world are watching “Big Brother”.

ADDENDUM: The Friday after I posted this, a large protest was held by the opposition party in the capital, Tirane. The Country Director of Peace Corps, Albania, arrived in Korce Thursday evening on a tour to videotape volunteers in my group and their counterparts, talking about volunteer activities and the impact on their communities. This is a project he is doing as part of the 50th Anniversary of the Peace Corps to show incoming volunteers at Pre-Service Training for Group 14. So far, 45 have accepted and are due to arrive mid March. He was traveling with the regional Peace Corps Safety Officer, who covers the Mediterranean and the Middle East. There was also a college freshman from Ohio who was doing a short term internship in Tirane. She was acting as the camera person. It was hard for me to pick among my various counterparts, but Isufi was eager to talk and Jani showed up to talk, as well. We had dinner with another volunteer on Thursday and they asked me if I wanted to come along as they visited other volunteers in the region. It was a chance to visit others in my region and see what they were doing as well as spend the weekend with friends. Also, they were buying meals and coffee at each stop. We even got to stop at a couple of tourist sites along the way which I had previously only seen from the window of a bus. It seemed like a good deal to me.

They were aware of the protest and were concerned about possible violence and further escalation. They made sure all the volunteers were out of Tirane, except the one who was there at a meeting related to a project. They phoned him to make sure he was safe. They closed the office early to make sure all the staff was able to get home before the protest began in the early afternoon.

It was estimated that about 20,000 people took part in the protest. Almost as soon as it started there were conflicts between both sides with rocks and sticks thrown by the protesters at the police who stood in a line behind plastic shields around government buildings and responded with rubber bullets, stun and smoke grenades. Live bullets were fired by someone identified as a security guard for one building. A protester from Gjirokaster was killed. Video of this was shown repeatedly on television. Two others also died and many injured protesters and police were taken to hospitals. The Prime Minister announced an investigation. The opposition party leader condemned the government response. The President appealed for restraint and calm.

Throughout the drive, the Country Director and the Safety Officer stayed in frequent contact with volunteers and staff. Emails and SMS messages were sent to all members of the Peace Corps in Albania. Reports were filed with the "country desk" at Peace Corps headquarters in Washington. Things seemed to have settled down in the capital and unrest has not spread to other parts of the country. We hope it stays that way.

It turned colder and rained throughout the night. Snow closed the road back to Korce and the bus home was canceled. Few roads are plowed in Albania so I am planning on an early start in the morning to take a series of buses and furgons for the long, circuitous alternative route through Elbasan. Since I am the warden for our region, I made sure the alternate knew my status. He has a key to my apartment where we keep extra water and food in case we need to gather there for potential evacuation as they had to do during general anarchy in 1997. Isufi also offered his home as a refuge, if needed. I think we are taken care of.

A Year in Albania

2011-01-07T06:55:00.000-08:00

Actually, I have now been in Albania almost 22 months of my 27 month Peace Corps term of service. However, since I arrived in March of 2009 and finish in May of 2011, 2010 is the only full year I will have spent in the country during my stay. New Year’s marked the end of that year, and so, seemed momentous.

Not that I dislike Albania, quite the contrary. In many ways it is a charming country, its people are extraordinarily hospitable, and it is interesting and scenic. Except for being pretty cold in the winter, somewhat confused by the language and the culture, and sometimes discouraged by the degree of pollution and corruption, that in reality is not bad for a developing country (or for some cities in the US for that matter), I could imagine myself on extended vacation in the mountains of Italy on the other side of the Adriatic. I feel a bit like a friend of mine whose military service during most of the war in Vietnam was as an aide, scheduling tennis matches for a general in Germany.

I had 19 volunteers through my apartment over the holidays. On Christmas morning we passed out presents around a small tree while we listened to a music cd titled “Krishtlindje Ne Tirane” (“Christmas in Tirana”) that I had found in the Peace Corps office. Presents were pretty simple; candy bars, small bags of coffee, a knitted shawl, used books, some costume jewelry, etc. We made homemade bagels for breakfast, served with cream cheese, prosciutto, tomatoes and lettuce. 13 volunteers were crammed into the place for Christmas dinner. There was hardly elbow room, but the pot luck dinner was great; roast chicken, Swedish meat balls, mashed potatoes, candied carrots, a walnut salad, chocolate cake, macaroons and apple pie. Albanian wine and beer was also available for those who imbibe. Someone even brought Starbucks Christmas blend coffee to go with the desserts (one of my prized possessions is a 12 cup coffee maker I inherited from a previous volunteer).

On Boxing Day, December 26th, we rented the minibus that is used by the Soqata for their excursions, and a group of volunteers went to the ski area at Bigell and to the picturesque village of Dardhe, in the mountains not far from the city. There was snow, and although not enough for skiing, there was enough for a snowball fight and other snow play. A few sat in the day lodge to drink and keep warm while the rest went into the village. The old stone houses are mostly renovated along steep cobblestoned lanes. There are a few new ones, even a multi-unit building that may be condos, and a magnificent new hotel with a view on a clear day into Greece.

We went into a coffee shop to warm up and ran into a volunteer from a previous group who was visiting over the holidays. I had just had an email from her from Guyana where she is working as a HIV educator as part of Peace Corps Response, a newer organization spun off from the regular Peace Corps, which uses special skills of returned Peace Corps volunteers for short term projects. She was happy to be back in Korca, where she felt safe and among old friends. Her work in Guyana is in a jungle village and there are parts of the area where she is cautioned from travel for reasons of safety.

We attended several of the many events in Korca that were scheduled for the holidays. One was a dance recital at the Cajupi Theater. Our ticket stubs were included in a drawing for prizes. I was glad we didn’t win any of the toys, and the microwave, which I could have used, was kept for the drawing that would happen with the next day’s performance. The kids ranged in age from around four to young teens. Sometimes they would lip sync to performances that we figured were prerecorded, although one number was clearly the Jackson 5.

Santa Claus arrived in Korca in a carriage, pulled by a pony, up Republika Boulevard, attended by children in Santa hats who passed out candy and post cards. He had some difficulty due to the construction that is going in the square in front of the movie theater (which has been inoperative for about two years and still advertises its last film, “Terminator 3”), and the traffic along the street which did not want to yield, despite Santa’s police escort. This event was at midday on December 30. If this seems late, don’t forget that the Orthodox tradition celebrates Christmas on January 6th.

New Year’s we were invited to the home of my neighbors Titi and Miranda. Keeping up what amounts to a Peace Corps, Albania, tradition, I tutor their daughter, Iris, in English. Their small apartment was warm, heated by a wood stove. Miranda put on a fantastic spread which she had cooked on it. This included turkey, steak, potatoes, eggplant, peppers, hard boiled eggs, salad, cheese, cake and baklava (which is a traditional New Year’s food and is usually homemade- I was served it several times over the holiday, including three times on New Year’s Day).

New Year’s is the big holiday here. The communist regime discouraged religious celebrations and made Christmas a regular work day. Some Albanians still call a Christmas tree a “New Year’s Tree”, and many visit on January 1st and 2nd, which are both holidays, giving gifts to mark the day. At midnight, Korcans gathered in the square in front of the Cathedral for the annual fireworks free-for-all. Afterwards, Titi chaperoned Iris as she went to a party with her friends at one of the local discos. We went home as they left for the fireworks. I still have PTSD from last year’s fireworks.

In the afternoon, we took a furgon to Elbasan to do some visiting of our own with our host families back in Thane. Everyone was doing well. The sister of the girl whose wedding we attended in 2009 is now engaged to a boy from the same town as her sister’s husband. He works in Italy. The older boy in my family has been studying English in school and is getting to the point that his English is much better than my Shqip. His family now has five cows and a donkey. The mother goes into Elbasan every other day to sell her milk products. As I walked up to their house, the father was driving a donkey cart full of fodder for the animals. He also continues to work construction jobs in the area. He and his mother had plans to leave for Italy on January 3rd to visit his brother who has lived and worked there for years. The recent liberalization of visa requirements for Albanian visits to the Eurozone countries has made this possible. I am still hoping the boys will find time to visit me in Korca, maybe for some winter skiing or for Easter. Of course, we had to eat baklava and drink coffee at each house. So far, we agree that Isufi’s wife, Flora, wins the prize for the best homemade baklava.

I was back at work at the Public Health Department on Tuesday morning and helped haul in wood for the small stove which heats the office. Most of the nurses and lab technicians were still on vacation. Preca started up again on January 6th, but only for a half day. My tutorial classes went on Monday and Wednesday afternoons and the aviation interest group started up at the library again on Thursday. Dr. Isufi moved into his new building. The concrete is still drying and the windows, mirrors and walls were covered with condensation. I hope it doesn’t grow mold, which is a problem in some buildings.

Also, on January 6th was the “cross toss” into water to mark the 12th day of Christmas for the Orthodox Church. Hundreds gathered around a fountain in the plaza to the north of the Cathedral steps. A few beggars worked the crowd and there were vendors selling candles and icons. A carpet covered platform had been erected on one side of the pool. At 11 AM, the bells began peeling from the twin towers that frame the entrance of the church and a procession of ornately clad priests and their acolytes emerged from the side of the building. One carried a large basin of holy water which was liberally sprinkled over the people. Once on the platform, as some of the priest sang hymns, the remainder of the water was poured into the water in the fountain. Then the head priest tossed a golden cross into the pool. Almost before it hit the water, young men along the side jumped in and the cold and sodden victor climbed up the side to the priest, who blessed him. He also receives about $40, good luck for the year and gets to keep the cross at home for a few months. After the ceremony, many people filled up water bottles from the pool to sprinkle around their homes to give them good fortune in the New Year. I have heard that in Berat, another city in a valley to the west of Korca, the priest throws the cross into the river. I hope whoever retrieves it gets more than $40.

The low clouds and wood smoke make Korca seem even colder than it is. I am back in my long johns and down sleeping bag and staying close to my space heater. It is winter, after all. I am leaving for a brief visit home at the end of the month. Some friends sent me photos of McCall, which is covered with about three feet of snow in town and about six feet in the mountains. In spite of that, when I look at pictures of home, it engenders warm feelings within.

Christmas Time is Coming

2010-12-17T10:14:00.000-08:00

Korca is especially beautiful for Christmas and Easter, and I encourage the volunteers in my region, that have no other place to go, to gather together in Korca. We have had them strewn about the couches and floors of my apartment and have managed to produce amazing dinners on my little stove. It gives us a sense of community and brightens what can be a depressing time when we are far away from home and family. I confess an ulterior motive. I have heard that a room is raised 2 degrees for each occupant, so 12 or more volunteers for dinner raises the inside temperature to the low 60’s. It is a real treat to shed one’s long johns and coat inside the house, at least for a while.

It has not been above freezing for more than a week. This is not a particularly low temperature back home in Idaho, but I think the centigrade scale which translates it as “below zero” makes it seem colder. Whatever, my down sleeping bag has definitely become my most valued possession. Maybe if my apartment had central heating and insulated walls, and windows and door frames that didn’t whistle in the wind I would have a different perspective. I do have two layers of plastic sheeting on the windows, a blanket over the door and a stocking filled with sand blocking the draft that blows through the large crack underneath. That helps, but you definitely would not consider it cozy.

It has already snowed a few times in Korca, and there is a lovely, white Christmas patina covering the city. There is a 50ft tree in the center of the square by the main hotels and the theater. It was lit along with lights in front of the Cathedral and on the trees that line to road between the Cathedral square and that by the main hotels, the national bank and the main post office where the tree stands. The ceremony was at 6 pm on a dark and very cold night. There were speeches by dignitaries, the lights were switched on and fireworks were set off (this was part of the show, and not due to a short circuit). There was a brightly lit stage set up to the east of the Cathedral steps. A young woman in a Santa hat danced and lip synched Korcan songs. Typical in Albania, the amplifier was full blast, just below feedback, mostly. Around the stage were booths displaying regional products for sale. This included foods like fruit, wine, and sausage, and handicrafts like woven carpets, handbags, knitted scarves and shawls, needle point and lace. The quality was excellent and I think the prices were reasonable. I might have purchased a few things, but I couldn’t hear the vendors over the din from the stage. There was also hot wine for sale for about a dollar a cup. I don’t drink, but I considered buying a cup to hold and warm up my hands. There were braziers scattered around, but they were not very effective in the winter night.

I met one of the other Peace Corps volunteers. He works at the city hall and had a project at the market with student volunteers who were dressed in carnival costumes and passed out leaflets urging people to buy local products. This is a national program and he is heading to Tirana to attend a meeting on this and similar projects around the country. He said it was the mayor’s idea to combine the market with the opening ceremony of the end of year festivities. The costumed volunteers were enthusiastic and each one wanted to give everyone in the crowd a copy of the leaflet. This created a lot of trash, but trash is under the purview of health education volunteers like me, so was not a big concern for the community development volunteer that was part of this endeavor.

There is a lot happening in the city. I have heard the mayor wants Korca to be known as a “city of events”. I think that in principle this is a good idea, although it is not much of a slogan in English or Albanian. After the opening ceremonies and the market, movies will be shown in the Cultural Palace. For some reason they are Spanish language films. I am not sure why, but I would guess it is because they were a gift of the Spanish embassy or were free for some other reason. Saturday night is the Miss Korca competition at the Cajupi Theater. Sunday and Monday there are instrumental trios at noon in the Cultural Palace. On Monday, the Cajupi Theater hosts a “Festival Concert” that is touring around Albania and there will be an exhibition of a national artist contest for “figurative art”. There is a “doll theater” on the 26th and 27th and a children’s concert at the library on the 29th and 30th. There is a photographic exhibition on biodiversity at a loft in a downtown, restored, 19th century building. There is an original play called “Happy New Year” that premiers at the Cajupi Theater on the 29th. Santa (called “Babagjushi” or “father-grandfather”) parades through the town center on the 30th. At noon on New Year’s Eve there is another children’s presentation called “chirping on a wire”, presumably about singing birds, also at the Cultural Palace. All of these are free. The week after New Year’s will have more activities, leading up to the Orthodox tradition on January 6th when a priest from the Cathedral throws a cross in a fountain in front of the church and there is a race to retrieve it to win the monetary prize and the good luck it brings. I hope they can keep the water from freezing.

There will be the annual party for the disabled group at Dr. Isufi’s clinic. His new building is not quite ready to be occupied, so it will be held in the temporary space across the street, which is unheated. I think this is planned for lunch time on the 22nd. In the morning of the 23rd the high school is having its Christmas recital. That afternoon, the faculty will have a Christmas party at a local restaurant and I have been invited.

You might be interested to know that under the communists Albania was an atheist state, and there was an active anti-religion campaign. When communism fell the people really didn't know how to celebrate Christmas. It was dark and quiet. Now the city is lit and beautiful. Kids at school twitch and chatter in their seats, unable to contain the building excitement. My teacher friends at Preca (the Maltese Catholic run high school which is one of the places that I teach) smile as they try to keep the kids on track, remembering what it was like not so many years ago.

The Association of Physical Benefits

2010-12-04T07:38:00.000-08:00

This is the name of the group of disabled patients and their families that is organized out of Dr. Isufi’s clinic in Korca, Shoqata e Perfitimit Fizik in Albanian. Friday morning was windy, but dry and a large group headed out to the day lodge at the Bigell ski area for an outing to celebrate International Disabled Persons Day. 27 were packed into the old bus that they use on their excursions. We roared off up the mountain heading to the big party. The trip was marred by the loss of a walker, which fell out of the storage area in back. We back tracked for awhile trying to find it, but were unable to locate it. People we asked said they had seen it but didn't know where it was. It was probably scooped up by the people who pick trash looking for cans to sell for scrap. An aluminum walker must have been a real prize. Luckily we had a spare set of forearm crutches for that person. When we arrived at the area there was a group that preceded us. That, plus those that came in their own cars brought the total to over 50. The path from the road was muddy and it was a chore to get everyone to the lodge, but at least it wasn’t raining and it was actually warmer at the area than in town. With all the people and the wood stove it was quite comfortable in the lodge.

A couple other doctors from Korca, a surgeon and a psychiatrist, also attended and there were a few therapists and volunteers, but mostly it was patients and their families. The group had hired a teenage band for live music- an electric guitar and keyboard and a vocalist. One of the family members joined them for most of the time. They played non-stop after they set up, mostly traditional songs from the Korca region. There was lots of dancing and eating. One young man, with quite a bit of spasticity from his cerebral palsy, was the most frequent dancer, but almost everyone participated, with an age range from a 4 year old girl with congenital hip problems to several seniors who had suffered strokes. The food was non-stop as well; kulach (the heavy Korcan bread), salad, kernace (a meatball or sausage), salce kosi (a creamy yoghurt sauce), beef (I had seen Isufi’s mother select it on the hoof from the back of a van a few days prior), french fried potatoes, apples and petula (fry bread). There was plenty of beer and raki, as well, and lots of toasting. The party went on for more than six hours, as the wind increased outside and the clouds rolled in. By the time we left, it was raining lightly and the temperature was dropping, as the weather returned to the pattern that has prevailed the past month or so.

It has rained a lot here this fall. Shkoder, the largest city in the north, has major flooding. The main road is blocked, schools are closed, electricity is out, the water is unsafe to drink (although the water there is almost always unsafe to drink), the Peace Corps has prohibited travel to and from the city and is considering whether to evacuate the volunteers assigned there. Many other cities in valleys and low lying areas along the coast are having problems. Korca which is situated on the slopes of the Morava Mountain and not along a big river or lake shore is protected. The locals agree it is another sign of Korca’s general superiority.

There was a story on the BBC website about flooding in the Balkans. It mentioned Bosnia, Serbia and Croatia, but left out any mention of Albania. This seems to me to be a pattern, and not just for the BBC. Museums about Byzantine art in Athens and Corfu and Thessaloniki make no mention of the history of Voskopoja, a historical center of Byzantine art and culture that in the early 18th century was actually larger than Athens. Stories about conflicts between Islam and the West, fail to mention Albania where Jewish refugees were aided and sheltered by Muslims, despite the risks from Nazi occupiers; a fact that all Albanians that I have met point to with pride. The street named after George W. Bush one block from the main mosque in Tirana was not mentioned during the controversy that recently swirled around the construction site near the World Trade Center in New York. I pointed this out with some e-mails to US media, but never even got an acknowledgement. Maybe I am sympathetic to this because I am from Idaho which we sometimes refer to as the “stealth state”. When Idahoans travel around the US no one seems to know where it is, often confusing it with Iowa or Ohio. There is a famous map of the Northwest which was published in the NY Times. It had Montana bordering Washington and Oregon. Maybe Albania needs a succssful sports team like Boise State, threatening to break into the big time, to put it on the map.

I neglected to mention in my last post about the car that blew up on the road near the US Embassy in Tirana the day before Thanksgiving. I got an urgent SMS about this from the PC director of security. Unfortunately it appeared while I was on a bus to Tirana. Of course, the route went right along this road. We were warned to be alert for potential delays and possible dangers. I was not sure what action I was supposed to take. Even if I got off the bus with my bags, in the rain, with the flu, I would still have had to get on another bus along the same road to get to my destination. I saw what was left of this car as we rode into the city from Elbasan. Fortunately it had been cleared by then and there were no delays beyond the usual traffic snarls of the capital.

It turned out not to be a terrorist, but just a car that blew up because it had been adapted to run on propane in addition to gasoline. This is quite common because propane costs about half per gallon compared to gasoline. I have seen similar conversions in the US. Most city buses in Boise run on natural gas. Unfortunately, the conversion had some technical problems, and it was incompetence rather than politics that resulted in the explosion. I think of this when I look at my landlord’s VW Golf which has a similar conversion and is parked outside my window.

I can look around my apartment at the leak from the drain from his kitchen sink that runs through my ceiling, or the hole in the wall of the bathroom where he installed the new water heater, or at the stove he put in with a propane tank beneath the counter. I still get occasional electrical shocks from my shower. These things just happen in Albania. When they fixed the road in front of a house in my neighborhood and it blocked the garage so they could no longer open the door, the owners just moved the garage to the other side of the house and exchanged the window from that side, presumably moving the rooms as well. It involved expanding one hole and bricking up some of the other. They took care of it in a couple of days.

The day lodge that was the venue for the festivities on International Disabled Persons Day had similar construction. The ceiling leaks in places, and part of the wood façade that covers a support beam is falling off. Pieces of tape are peeling off around the windows (I see that almost everywhere in Korca in newer buildings- maybe it is considered bad luck to remove it). The road into the mountains had lots of work done on it this summer, but there are still unpaved sections and parts of the repairs are beginning to wash away. Even so, everyone made it safely home. Everyone had a good time.

Sick Days

2010-11-29T07:18:00.000-08:00

I should have had my flu shot sooner. I had an email from the Peace Corps Medical Officer letting me know the vaccine was available in Tirana, but had not found time to make the long trip to the capital. Back home, I always got my shots as soon they were available, but never felt any real urgency. Herd immunity, the protection we get from the fact that so many around us are already immunized, can generally be counted on in the developed world. Here the opposite is true. Once a readily infectious, airborne virus makes an appearance, it spreads rapidly. It seems counterproductive for a health education volunteer to be a vector, however unintentional. Even though I probably could have dragged myself to work, I stayed in my apartment.

An invitation to dinner at the home of the country director for the Peace Corps was forthcoming on Monday. I decided that if I felt well enough, I would take the bus on Wednesday. It was supposed to be at least 10 degrees warmer in Tirana and his home has much better heating than mine, not to mention a traditional Thanksgiving menu. If I stayed here, it would likely be soup, pasta, salad and maybe roast chicken, as a special treat. This is the typical dinner menu here. Nothing wrong with it, really, it just gets a bit boring. I tried boiling some potatoes for variety the other day but ended up falling asleep and being awaked by the smell of burning spuds. The fact that I have not yet done anything to limit the air leaks around the windows in my kitchen (because of the slow gas leak from my stove) helped a lot to clear out the smoke. I suppose I could blame the episode with the potatoes on limitations caused by the flu, but even at my best I am not a great cook.

Palo, my landlord and upstairs neighbor, brought me some rose hips from the garden of his family home in the mountain village of Dardhe. These are high in vitamin C and are recommended to be crushed and used to make tea as a remedy for colds and flu. Another neighbor brought some salep, which is brewed with milk and sugar and topped with cinnamon. This is another folk remedy, but I don’t care for the taste even though many of the volunteers are quite fond of the concoction. Whenever I have the least little sniffle, friends, neighbors, coworkers and even strangers on the street will offer medical advice. While I was walking home the other day, someone came up to me and handed me a pack of menthol cough drops.

I did manage to get to Tirana. I went straight to the Peace Corps medical office in the basement of the staff building. The medical officer, a nurse practitioner, gave me my flu shot, checked me over, and gave me a course of broad spectrum antibiotics to start if my cough seemed to be turning into pneumonia. Since drugs like these almost always cause major GI side effects, I don’t plan on using them unless I really need to. In a country with interminably long bus rides and Turkish toilets, I would almost prefer to have pneumonia.

I felt somewhat better on Thanksgiving Day and headed over the American compound where the traditional Peace Corps vs. Embassy Staff touch football game is played. Since my weight bearing joints have been nice enough to continue functioning over my lifetime without major surgery, I try to be considerate of them and now abstain from contact sports, but I went to cheer the team on.

The field is a rather steep hillside, covered with grass, but after all the rain it was pretty slick with mud. Before the game I tried to subvert one of the opponent team members, a recent college graduate from Portland. He is unemployed so was visiting his sister who works as a political officer in the Foreign Service. I told him that as an unemployed, recent college graduate it was more appropriate for him to be with the Peace Corps. This might seem to be an unsporting activity, but, remember, the Embassy team includes the Marines assigned there. I figured we needed any edge we could get.

I sat with a group on the side lines. We tried to think of appropriate Peace Corps cheers; like “DON’T FIGHT, TEAM!” and “I.R.B., I.R.B.!” (I.R.B. is an abbreviation for “Intentional Relationship Building”, a favored Peace Corps technique. I have suggested changing this to “Buttering-Up Local Leaders” which I think would be more descriptive of the technique and provide an easier to remember acronym).

As it turned out, the Peace Corps team dominated the field. The large group of new volunteers apparently includes several with experience in college sports. There were only four Marines on the Embassy team and the others seemed more academically inclined. The Peace Corps team was ahead when the game had to be called due to hail and lightning. For all of our sakes, I hope the Marines were not dispirited.

At dinner, I asked the Peace Corps director if he had done any recruiting of new volunteers with the game in mind or if he had a friendly bet with the Head of Mission at the Embassy. He smiled as he denied both. There were 16 at the table; 10 volunteers, the Country Director’s family (three of his children go to school in the US and were with family in Colorado) and a few local friends, Albanian and a Serbian. There was a huge turkey, a ham, and a fine assortment of appetizers, side dishes and desserts. After dinner we got to watch the Macy’s Parade in NYC and the Detroit vs. New England game on the big screen TV in the upstairs family room. We sat on the big couches around the room and their two dogs sat with us. It was a typical American holiday scene and a nice respite from the routine of Peace Corps service around the country. I am sure the other volunteers appreciated it as much as I did.

I was feeling better, but my cough persisted and my energy level was not up to par. I took it easy over the long weekend. It continued to rain, so it was not hard to hole up indoors. The long bus ride south was crowded with students going home from Tirana for the long holiday weekend (not Thanksgiving, of course, but Albanian Independence Day on November 28 and Liberation Day on November 29). The heating system did not work right and the bus was superheated. The road was muddy and flooded in spots and there were detours around sections that had washed out or were blocked by mud or rock slides. I plan to be back at work on Tuesday.

Albanian Indian Summer

2010-11-15T02:59:00.000-08:00

The cold, rain and fog gave way to sunny warm autumn days with the smell of wood smoke filling the air during the nights and lingering into the morning. The inversion in the valley made me shed my jacket during my morning walk up the mountain to the east of town and the crystal air on top provided stunning views of the ranges that surround the valley and border Macedonia to the northeast and Greece in most other directions except west, where beyond several mountains and river valleys lies the Adriatic. I walked past herds of sheep and goats grazing on the public land. Occasionally a rider on a mule or donkey with a wooden saddle, ridden sidesaddle (astraddle would not be a more comfortable ride) went by. There were lots of people out walking. On weekends, some carried picnic bags, soccer or volleyballs, and guitars as they walked with their families for a day’s outing.

On Saturday night I went with my neighbor’s family to see Skenderbeu, Korca’s professional soccer team, play Dinamo, the league leader from Tirana. Korca’s stadium has recently been remodeled. There are individual reserved plastic seats instead of the stone benches and there are four large arrays of night lights. Now night games are preferred, even though it would be a lot more comfortable in the warm daytime than the cold nights. People marvel at the lighting that lets them watch their favorites after sunset. No wonder, as my friend Lawrence from Malta, who has taught in Korca for 12 years, told me that when he first drove into Albania from Greece there were literally no lights anywhere. He stayed at the border until daybreak as he was afraid to drive in the pitch darkness. It was the first game at home and there was a dedication ceremony with singing and dancing and fireworks before the game. There were many more women and girls than I have seen attending a soccer match. Korca won before a very enthusiastic home crowd. We stopped for coffee and hot chocolate on the way home and met another volunteer who was with his friends at the game.

My neighbor’s daughter has applied for the YES program which sends high school kids from around the world to attend a year in the US. She has made it past the first three rounds of tests and interviews. The other volunteer and I contributed to her transportation to Tirana for these as it is a strain for her family. There are hundreds of kids applying for only a few slots. If she gets to go it will be quite an adventure for her as she had never even been to Tirana before she went for the first test. It will be very hard for her parents to have her gone for so long as they are a very close family and she is an only child. However, they are very anxious for her to have the best in life, especially for her education, so they are very supportive of her application.

She has been tutored in English by Peace Corps volunteers since she was nine and is quite fluent in English. We are currently reading Huckleberry Finn as part of our lessons. With all the dialect it is pretty hard going for her, it requires a lot of reading of context for meaning rather than just vocabulary, and she is doing very well. If she spends a year in the US she will be essentially bilingual.

If she is selected (that is probably unlikely as I have heard that the selection process is rigged, not an uncommon occurrence in Albania, and hers is a humble family without the necessary connections), I wonder what the net effect will be. Will she be enchanted by the US or meet someone there so that she will eventually become part of the Albanian diaspora? Will she learn something that she can bring home to the benefit of herself, her family and her community? This is the wager of exchange programs, be they the YES program for high school kids or the Peace Corps.

I listened on-line to a recent City Club of Boise meeting where the speaker was the Pakastani ambassador to the US (by the way, as a young man he had come to the US on an exchange program). He pointed out the irony that the world was smaller than ever, there is a 24 hour news cycle and, yet, most of what we know about the world is filtered through the special interests in New York or Washington, DC, and is wrong. He is trying to be the first ambassador to visit all 50 states. Idaho is a good place to learn something different from what he would in New York or Washington. Maybe the Federal government should have a program like we have in Idaho with “Capital for a Day” held in our varied towns and cities.

Tuesday is Bajram, a holiday in Albania. It is a Muslim holy day which commemorates the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son at God’s command. For Muslims, he is called Ibrahim and the son in question is Ishmael. In the Judeo-Christian tradition, Abraham is willing to sacrifice Isaac. I can imagine the two boys fighting about which one gets to be sacrificed, arguing to the point that the beleaguered father considers maybe sacrificing them both. After all, he was pretty old by that time and probably not greatly tolerant of jabbering and squabbling children. How was he going to explain this to their mothers? He probably wished they had had girls who are by nature more compliant with issues involving sacrifice. In any event, as the story goes, the boy or boys are spared, the goat is sacrificed, and, by a fortunate coincidence, is delicious when roasted and served as a main dish (I am grateful that a rutabaga was not the first alternate). Albanians, fervently believing that no excuse for a feast should be wasted, have a big meal to celebrate regardless of their religious affiliation. It seems that the way to cultural harmony is through the stomach.

Next week is our own, secular, American Thanksgiving; Americans demonstrating our cultural advancement by adding football to the feast schedule- Thanksgving, New Years and Superbowl Sunday- (a fact that I think argues for the superiority of American Football over Soccer). I am still not sure if I am hosting a group of volunteers at my apartment for a big pot luck or if the American ex-pat community in Tirana will come through with enough invitations to accommodate all the PC volunteers from around the country. There are a lot more this year than last so I think there is less enthusiasm for the endeavor. Last year I was invited to eat with the US Ambassador at his residence. I think there must be a special source for diplomatic turkeys as it was about the tastiest bird I have ever eaten. Ambassador Withers retired this past summer and his replacement has not yet been confirmed. I suggested that since the residence was free, we could provide the cook and butler with some useful recurrency training by hosting a large group of volunteers for dinner. I think the dining room could easily accommodate 30. Like many of my best ideas, it was ignored.

Whatever happens, I am certain I will not be hungry the next couple of weeks. I will try to be mindful of the many blessings I have as an Idahoan, an American and a Peace Corps volunteer serving in Albania. I will think of the many family and friends whose distance or death keeps us apart on this holiday. I will remember gratefully the many who have been willing to make personal sacrifices on my behalf.

So Close to Europe

2010-10-26T02:55:00.000-07:00

Two older, women volunteers, who had completed their service, were touring the Balkans and came through Korca. They stayed with another volunteer in town, but we got together for dinner at one of the best places in town, Vasili’s. It was a cold, rainy night and the downstairs dining room has a fireplace. We sat nearby and enjoyed the specialty dishes; lemon soup, grilled vegetables and an egg dish they call kanaloni, but is more like an Albanian version of huevos rancheros. Of course, the conversation was mostly about the Peace Corps.

First, we played “my country is poorer than your country”. One woman served in Romania. There is no way Romania is poorer than Albania. I was there last summer. It has good roads and a functional rail system. The electrical and water systems are reliable and the factories actually make things like cars and diesel fuel and people have real jobs. It’s a member of the European Union, for pity sake, and Romanians don’t need visas to travel or work throughout Europe. There may be areas of poverty, but the fact that there are places in Romania where poor people predominate doesn’t mean the country is poor any more than poverty in Mississippi makes the US part of the third world. The other volunteer had worked in Moldova. This is the country that makes Albania the second poorest country in Europe. She described infrastructure and villages that she said were typical. Albania seemed pretty advanced in contrast.

I don’t know if all PC volunteers do this when they meet. It would not surprise me. I am not sure it is very useful. How does one compare Togo to Paraguay or Cambodia to Tonga or Kazakhstan? Which is a better indicator of poverty; a thatch hut, a tin roof or a communist bloc apartment? Are you worse off if you are exposed to mosquitoes in the rainy season, or frostbite in the winter? Some volunteers complain that they expected to be in a more rural setting, while others that the lack of an internet connection makes them less effective. Maybe like the kids in Albania seem to think things are better in any country but their home, PC volunteers think things are easier in any country but the one they are serving in, or at least trying to. “The challenges are always greater on my side of the border”. My own experience has been that the most difficult impediment to my effectiveness is me.

We also talked about some concerns particular to older volunteers (not of much interest to the younger volunteers, who sat there politely, probably bored to death). One noted that Eastern Europe is a preferred assignment for our age group since it provides ready access to advanced medical care even if the in-country care is a bit substandard. I suppose this is a reality for older volunteers. Two in the Albania group before mine had to be sent home for health reasons, however in my group all of the medical terminations have been among the youngsters. One of the visitors, who had a lot of work experience in project management, complained she had been assigned to a remote, rural village where her skills were not of much use. She had taken it upon herself to travel around her country and help other volunteers with their projects.

Volunteers drawing on their individual expertise and helping their cohort is not at all unusual in my experience in Albania, and not just among the older volunteers. Many young volunteers are much better with technology and the internet and some have advanced degrees in engineering, environmental science, teaching and architecture. I think it would be great to get more direction and support from the PC administration, but maybe that is part of the intentional design of the Peace Corps program. It would have been helpful had this been stated explicitly in the orientation meetings or pre-service training, but maybe I am just slow on the uptake. It has been evident to me for a long time that if I need advice or support, it is better to turn to other volunteers. I have tried to contribute my share when I can.

The volunteer from Moldova said that she had heard that the PC was looking at how they use their more experienced volunteers. There is a special response program in the Peace Corps where older volunteers, who have previously completed the usual service, participate in short term projects in countries that have specific needs for their expertise. She said the PC was considering changing the requirement for previous service for older volunteers for this program. One idea that I have had would be some sort of pre-service grant application so that volunteers with special expertise might bring more resources for projects they might have particular qualifications for, rather than trying to develop this only after they get to their site which is not always successful and has an inevitable time lag. It takes a long time to get into the Peace Corps and this might be a useful activity. Lining up help from your contacts at home would be a lot easier while you are still there rather than from thousands of miles away. Also, it takes time to find your footing in your service site and the grant application process takes time. Time has to be available to complete a project. Complications and delays are likely to occur. Not everyone wants to or even can extend for a third year of service. There is really only a short window to pursue such support even within the 2 year term at a site. There is an Idaho association of returned PC volunteers, as there are in many states and some of the larger metropolitan areas, and most countries have “friends groups” of volunteers, their friends and families to stay involved with their country of service. I look forward to discussions about these topics and other activities within these groups.

The women planned to visit Butrint and then head up along the “Albanian Riviera”, to Vlora, and then to Shkoder, into Montenegro, Croatia, Slovenia and into Hungary and the Czech Republic. That is a route I hope to travel after I finish my service, so I gave them my e-mail address and asked them to update me on their progress, and, especially, to give any advice they might have from their tour.

With an American passport, it is so easy to travel around this region and there is so much to see. In mid-October, I went with several of the volunteers to Istanbul for the marathon. 16 of the 27 in my cohort traveled to Istanbul for the event. One volunteer met his mother there and toured around a bit with her and some of her friends. Then after taking his LSAT exam, he ran the marathon on the next day. He is also interested in the Foreign Service. This kid is a high achiever.

I went along mainly to provide therapy to the survivors. Personally, I don’t see a point to jogging along a scenic route with a few thousand people, who, except for the super-fit few, seem to cramp up or throw up along the way and suffer a lot of pain in the aftermath. Then again, there are those who are not interested in flying a small plane to some remote mountain airstrip, hiking along a wild Idaho river, catching and releasing a dozen or so trout, huddling around a campfire and then waiting for the frost to burn off in the morning before launching for home. It takes all kinds to make a world. I knew that even before I joined the Peace Corps.

Istanbul is a beautiful and fascinating city that honors and displays its deep and varied roots. The people seem very friendly, the food was fantastic, and the museums and monuments are incredible. We walked for hours up and down the cobbled streets of the old city (at least those of my friends who could still walk), touring immense Ottoman mosques or Byzantine churches or endless bazaars or serene parks and tea gardens with vistas of the Bosporus that divides the city and Europe from Asia. I was impressed. Definitely a place I would like to visit again.

Most of the group flew back to Albania, but a few of us took the train to the ancient city of Thessaloniki in Greece where there is a bus back to Korca. The train travelled along the Aegean coast and pulled into the city in the late morning. We then walked around the bustling city of more than a million. We toured its museums and monuments, which ranged from the stone-age to the twentieth century, but emphasized the Macedonian, Roman and Byzantine eras. The modern archeology and Byzantine museums are nicely laid out and, although the collections are relatively modest, they compare well to the museums of Athens or Istanbul.

In the evening, we boarded a crowded Alba-Trans bus bound for Korca. We departed from a store front across the street from the train station. A Chinese lady, who spoke Albanian, hawked mechanical toys to the men. I assume these were presents for their kids back home as they returned from work in Greece. The trip along a Greek highway took less than three hours to the Albanian border. There, the bus driver had heated words with passengers whose papers were not in order, since that delayed our crossing by more than an hour and looked bad for the driver, who apparently was ultimately responsible to the authorities, as the bus company is not supposed to let on board passengers without valid passports and visas. There was also a problem with the paperwork for some of the cargo. Strangely, once we got through the Greek station, the Albanian side went quickly, although I did notice one man walking up and down the aisle with a large wad of Albanian money, exchanging bills with some of the passengers. Whether or not this was a factor that facilitated our passage, I can’t say.

As we drove along the road from the border towards Korca, a man in the back of the bus began to sing an Albanian folk song, but was soon drowned out by a Hollywood, action movie shown on DVD in the front of the bus. The film was a violent epic set in LA. It was about a personal vendetta between a police officer skilled in martial arts and a Chinese hit man, and had all the usual explosions, machine guns, sword fights, car crashes, etc. I didn’t need to be awakened when we drove into Korca late at night.

All the politicians here talk about easing visa requirements for Albanians to travel outside of the country. This seems inevitable to me and a good thing, but Isufi pointed out something I hadn’t considered. Workers abroad are more likely to have their families join them than to send remittances back home. For poor countries that rely on these funds for a significant part of their economy (about 25% in Albania) that would be catastrophic. Also, currently the unemployment rates in Greece and Turkey are high and they are not welcoming foreign workers, so things are not likely to change at the border crossings anytime soon, and Albania will remain an underdeveloped enclave for awhile longer.

Saturday night there was a classical flute duet concert at the Kultural Palace. There is also a banner across the street announcing the “Korca Prize”. I think this is a painting competition that the mayor told me about when we met at a photography exhibit a few weeks ago. He said that artists were being invited to Korca from around Albania. They would paint scenes of the city, with a prize to be awarded to the best, but that each artist would leave one painting to enhance the collection of the city art gallery (the “Guri Madhe” in the Kultural Palace). There is a lot of activity, fixing cobblestone streets in the older parts of town and repairing sidewalks along the boulevards. Many older buildings are being restored and there is new construction throughout the city. There are plans to restore the bazaar. Korca is another city with deep and varied roots. It is working towards being a beautiful and fascinating European city, well worth visiting again.

Ties That Bind and Fray

2010-10-09T08:23:00.000-07:00

NPR had a story about how the internet was changing the Peace Corps experience. Instead of volunteers being dropped off in the jungle with sporadic communication with the outside world for the duration of their two years of service, daily communication with home is now possible with e-mail or even video with Skype. Country directors complained that if any volunteer was unhappy they would hear about it from the parents, or worse, from their congressional representative’s office. Google even has a free service (until the end of the year) through g-mail which allows phone calls to any number in the US. I have used this several times to call friends and family (especially appreciated to use for calls to elderly relatives that don’t have computers). I even have made it available to my neighbors to call relatives in the US using my laptop and a DSL I have through my landlords’ phone and a wire strung out his window and into mine.

My landlords, who live upstairs from me, came over last Sunday and were able to talk with a niece who lives in Worcester, Massachusetts. This city has a large population of Albanians and is a center of Albanian culture (there are also large numbers of Albanian immigrants living in Milwalkee, Detroit, New York and Chicago). Many of my Korca friends have family living there. I plan to visit there on my way home next June since it is not far from the home of some of my family. It will be a nice days outing from Rhode Island and I will be able to introduce them to some Albanians and sample byrek or lakror or some other Albanian specialty.

They talked for almost an hour and couldn’t believe it was free. The niece lives with her husband and children. If I understood everything she is a bookkeeper and he is in construction. They were both crying by the time they finished as they went through a long list of relatives to exchange information on how each was doing either in Albania or America. I expect that in the next week or so I will have a line by my door of other neighbors in my building.

Families here seem so very close and sentimental. It is one of the real contrasts to the US. However, I went to a meeting on trafficking last weekend and the presentation was hard for me to reconcile with my experiences with Albanians. It was held at the home of a nun who works in Korca. She is from Ireland and has a graduate degree from Fordham University in New York. She is on committees for the EU and the UN and spent three weeks this summer in New York City attending hearings about women’s rights in Europe, Asia and South America. Several PC volunteers from the Gender Development Committee came from around Albania to attend. Four stayed at my home. I had no other plans so I went along with them to the meeting.

There were the three nuns who live in the house (the Irish nun and one from Sri Lanka and one from Lebanon), an Albanian who had a public health degree from London and worked a European NGO, and a woman attorney from Korca who works in family law who presented. It seems that most girls are trafficked by relatives who promise them jobs abroad or are courted by young Albanian men who promise marriage, only to force them into prostitution when they arrive in other European countries such as the Belgium or Italy.

I know a family with five daughters that live in Thane. I met them during pre-service training. The father watched them carefully and at night he locked the gate in the wall around the house and garden. I had thought he was overly protective due to tradition, but now I see it from a different perspective.

One volunteer in my cohort who is very active in the GAD committee gave me a copy of a picture book, “Two Small Girls, A True Story” (“Dy Vajzet e Vogla”), that illustrated what happened to a young girl from the city and another from a village. It is supposed to be used for education, although I am not sure what age would be most appropriate. I plan to show it and a video disk that goes with it to the nurses in the Health Education Unit at the Directorate of Public Health where I work and see what they think. November includes a “World Day Against Violence Against Women” and is also international “Anti-child Abuse” month, so maybe we can put together a presentation as part of that and go around to some of the schools in the region.

Maybe an Albanian Mafiosi would stoop so low, but the idea that a relative would sell a girl into prostitution seems very un-Albanian to me. I would have thought they would vigorously defend their families (first offense, shoot out their knees; second offense, aim higher). I was walking in a village the other day when I came upon an older man who recognized me from my visit to my landlord when he was in the hospital after his heart attack last winter. You would think I was his long lost cousin. Of course, I was invited into his home, and talked with him and his wife as they served homemade walnut raki (I had to decline since I don’t drink alcohol, but I was forgiven this rudeness and provided a glass of wonderful spring water to go with the sweets that were served). The house was a beautifully crafted, stone cottage. It had a large American made woodstove, apparently brought back by his father who lived in America for 30 years early in the 20th century. He must have made enough money to furnish his home in style, with overstuffed couches, thick hand-made carpets (an Albanian craft that rivals Persia), wood paneling and fine paintings of mountain scenes. It was like a Victorian parlor, more like a restored North-end craftsman home in Boise than a house in a village in Albania.

I was surprised it had made it through the war and communism, but I guess bad mountain roads make it hard for visitors, whether they are tourists, conquerors or despots. Would they also deter predatory relatives? I hope so. What self-respecting Mafiosi would want to have to walk his unsuspecting victim out along a rutted mountain track, back to his shiny new Mercedes left parked on a roadside in the valley below? He might get sheep or cattle droppings on his expensive leather shoes. Even the totally corrupt must have their standards, or how could they look at themselves in the mirror in the morning.

Harvest Time

2010-09-22T08:09:00.000-07:00

The volunteers in Permet had a potluck dinner last Sunday. One of them is a vegetarian, so the menu was multiple vegetable dishes; hummus, focaccia bread, crostini with yoghurt sauce and roasted pepper topping, orange/carrot salad, bean salad, fresh feta cheese, homemade tomato pickles, and lemon pound cake and jello with fresh peaches for dessert. Those that drank alcohol had dark Korca beer, the rest homemade lemonade or spring water. I was fortunate to be visiting.

It is harvest time in Albania and the markets are full of fresh fruits and vegetables brought in by the villagers from the fields they work in the fertile river valleys of the countryside. It is mostly organically grown by default, since villagers tending their small family plots by hand, can’t afford commercial fertilizer or pesticides (although some, small entrepreneurs are starting to use the “bio” label on their products to indicate that it is organically grown). The challenge of planning a dinner is selecting from the cornucopia in the bazaar. In smaller cities, like Permet, the volunteers get to know the people in the bazaar personally. Shopping takes a long time as each vendor has to be greeted with hugs and air kisses and the traditional exchanges regarding how one is doing and how is the family, supplemented by information about how good today’s fruits or vegetables are or if the cheese is salty, and this requires sampling and then further discussion.

Early in the morning, we went for a hike to a mountain village about an hour and a half upriver from Permet. We passed fields, grape vines and fig orchards. People were working and as we passed they chatted with us and offered generous samples of whatever they were harvesting. The grape bunches were dense with small, tasty berries. The fresh figs were ripe and bursting. When someone saw us picking fruit off of a tree along the road, we were cautioned not to eat from the tree over the septic tank and to walk a bit further down the trail. The blackberries were a bit past their peak, but we were able to gather fennel seeds from the drying plants on the roadside. Shepherds were out with flocks of cows, sheep or goats. They waved as we passed. We are reluctant to approach them too closely as their dogs can be riled if we get between them and their charges. People were fishing in the rapids of the Vjosa River that flows through the valley, north from the Greek border. Part of the trail back from the village was a path along a stream that was fast and full from the Mali Dhembi (toothed mountains) that rise steeply from the west side of the valley. It had a spring alongside, pouring from the trunk of a large shade tree.

It was warming up when we got back to town, so we stopped for a drink. Our friends who run the restaurant allowed us to treat, for a change. We were celebrating their success in the latest step in their plan to move to Milwaukee. They recently had passed visa interviews and from talking to others, they expect to get their visas soon. They have relatives in Wisconsin and good job prospects for the whole family. We like their restaurant. The food is excellent, traditional faire, and there is a big screen TV. When we are there, they put on BBC news for us, although their teenage son favors American action movies. They are practicing their English in anticipation of their emigration, so we talk Albanian to them and they speak English to us.

On the bus drive to and from Permet, big bags of produce were loaded into the cargo hold at frequent village stops along the route. Closer to Korca there were stands, usually tended by the children of the rural families, selling potatoes, onions or apples (the products for which the Korca region is known in Albania). Most villagers, and, indeed, gardeners in town, grow everything. The grapes and figs and plums in Korca aren’t as good as those from Permet. Tomatoes and watermelons and corn are better near Elbasan or Fier, but mono-culture is unknown here. This is mostly for their families, but they sell any excess and there are some commercial operations. Prices are very low for local produce. In the market, plums are about 15 cents a pound, apples about 20 cents, and grapes 30 to 50 cents. Whole milk from the farm is about 30 cents a half gallon, although you do have to heat it to just below boiling and then let it cool as a method of home pasteurization.

My neighbors have had loads of firewood delivered and are chopping it into pieces to fit into their wood stoves. The Albanian axe is distinctive, and its shape looks almost medieval. The blade is much larger and thicker than an American axe. It makes quick work of splitting small logs. Most homes in Korca are heated with wood, which seems strange in a city of more than 50,000. My landlord, who had a heart attack last year, is not up to splitting cordwood, so he hired a farmer from a nearby village to do it for him. The farmer towed a table saw with his tractor and ran it off of the drive train. He went through the pile of wood quickly while my landlords, Palo and Moza, and most of the other residents in my apartment building sat around and watched. They drank coffee or raki and commented or joked about the work. Most seemed to think that Palo and Moza's sons should be splitting and stacking the wood for them, but they both work and are busy. Also, Palo is a retired mechanic and loves machinery of any sort. The tractor driven table saw obviously delighted him.

Many Korcans make peta in the fall. This is an egg and flour dough that is rolled out like a tortilla, dried in the sun and then broken up to use as pasta. Fresh peta, boiled and served with butter, is a delicacy, although a bit bland for my taste. Several friends have invited my over to sample their own special product. It all pretty much tastes the same to me. Since few of them cover the peta while it is drying, it may have markings from or even dead insects or bits of leaves or dirt in it. I have really tried not to be too prissy about hygiene differences between Albanian and American culture, but I am glad the peta spends time in boiling water before it is consumed. Anyway, I have eaten much worse on camping trips in the Idaho backcountry.

Cooler autumn weather has made mid-day hikes in the mountains pleasant. This is good because it is dark in the morning when I have to set out on my constitutional if I want to get back in time for work. Yesterday, as I started up my usual trail to the cross, I surprised a pack of dogs sleeping in the field. They growled ominously and I could not see how many there were. I picked up some rocks and tried to walk a little further out to pass around them without provoking an attack. It may be better when the time changes in October or they will move closer to town as it gets colder. Maybe I can find time later in the day for my walk. I have tried to get either of the other volunteers in Korca interested in the traditional hike up the hill, but neither is a morning person (are there any in the current generation of young adults?). Perhaps they will take me up on my invitation if it is for a more civilized hour.

Konstruksion

2010-09-07T04:04:00.000-07:00

Dr. Isufi decided to build a new clinic building. He built his old building on his parent’s property, in front of their home, in central Korca, near the city hall. It was small and seemed more slapped together than planned. He met with an architect and planned a modern, three story office building with plenty of room for his practice and room for his son to open his own dental practice, as well. The building would still fit on the property, in front of his house, although there would be no room for a garden or for off street parking for his son’s car. In late July, he moved as much of his gym equipment as he could into a storefront across the street and a few exam tables into another, smaller one down the block, and the demolition of his old building began.

A crew of men with picks, shovels and sledge hammers did this work by hand. They dug out the foundation and rerouted the plumbing. Footings for the steel reinforced concrete posts were constructed and a cement truck pulled up one day and filled up the forms and foundation. This took about a month. His mother, son, dog, other family and visitors have had to pick through the site to get access to the house in the rear of the lot.

Clinic continues in the temporary venue. It is not easy since the storefront is up six steep steps and most of the patients use canes, crutches, walkers or even wheelchairs. They are helped into the clinic by family members or even other patients. There are three tables in the back where, Shpresa (which means “hope”), his medical assistant, administers modality treatments and directs patients about. There is no changing room. There is a closet sized toilet which provides the only private space, and a boom box to provide background music. Isufi sees a few patients here and, when he needs more privacy, he walks about 50 feet down the block to a small storefront, behind a low iron fence where more equipment is stored and a few exam tables, a cabinet and an x-ray view box allow for his clinical evaluation and treatment.

In mid-August the work crew did not show for a few days, as the contractor has another project nearby and put the men to work there. Isufi was not happy and had to threaten to find another contractor to get the project going again. By mid-September the concrete floors and ceilings for the first two stories were completed and the masonry work for the walls was progressing quickly. Isufi and his son hope to move in by the end of October, although this seems a bit optimistic to me. The third floor will be left to the future to be completed as money allows.

This is typical in Albania. The country is filled with partially completed structures. It is largely a cash economy and only the biggest projects are financed. Almost all homes and smaller commercial buildings are built, like Isufi’s office, as the owner can afford construction. They may be partly occupied, giving the impression that squatters have taken over. This has some advantages, however. There was no mortgage crisis here and, in fact, like many developing countries in the world, the Albanian economy, although it slowed substantially, never went through the recent recession experienced in the US.

What is unusual in Isufi’s project is that he has financed this with savings from his work in Albania. He has not relied on remittances from his or family members work abroad. Many houses, including the one I lived in with my host family during pre-service training, are built with money earned by migratory work in Greece, Italy, or elsewhere in Europe or North America. In some cities, especially on the coast, like Saranda, Vlora or Durres, construction may be financed by laundered money from crime or corruption. These are often large projects that are mostly empty as there is no incentive in such a situation to meet a real estate demand or to sell in a low market to partially recover an investment. Sometimes work on these big projects halts when the contractors are forced to take payment in unsellable condos and are then unable to pay their workers.

None of this is relevant to Isufi’s new clinic. He wants to move in as soon as possible. His son wants to open his own practice rather than work for another dentist. He plans to marry next year as soon as his practice becomes established. Dental problems are very prevalent in Albania and he will certainly not lack patients.

Interestingly, Isufi’s building is behind the new Polyclinic building. This is mostly finished, but unoccupied. I have been told that this is because the grant that allowed the building to be constructed did not provide for furnishings. In any event, there are not many medical specialists in Korca. This may change since Albania is reorganizing its health care into regional centers with hospitals in smaller cities being turned into family practice clinics with concomitant development of specialty facilities in places like Korca. I don’t know whether Isufi’s building will be competing with the Polyclinic building or, if it is, it will be at an advantage or disadvantage.

Speaking of clinics, I recently traveled to Tirana to see the Peace Corps Medical Officer for follow-up on my mid-service medical evaluation, a dental exam and vision testing. As an older volunteer, I worry that they will find something and ship me out because it is less of a hassle to get rid of me than to try to treat some malady and keep me in the country. I saw this happen to a volunteer who had an episode of atrial fibrillation. I don’t know all the details of his case, but I did talk with him. I also know that such a case would not preclude him from returning to flight status after a few months, so it seems a bit strange to me that he could be fit to be a pilot but not a Peace Corps volunteer in Albania. Lucky for me, I am pretty healthy. I probably will pay for some extra cleanings (the PC only pays for one dental cleaning a year- not a good idea for an older person interested in keeping their teeth), but, otherwise, have few concerns. My eye glass prescription didn’t even change, although my lenses are pretty scratched up and could use replacement. This, apparently, has to be special ordered through Washington and is probably not worth the hassle.

Then, again, it is hard not to wonder how much real change working for two years makes in a place like Albania, or, probably for most places where there are PC volunteers. It is easy to get discouraged. I wonder how much protest I would put up. I am fortunate in that I get lots of positive feedback from my counterparts (although I am not so gullible to believe much of it) and I have a good support network here and at home. I heard that one of the older volunteers in the new group recently left. My group had a Program and Training Officer who took some special interest in the older volunteers. She hosted a brunch at her home in Tirana over 4th of July weekend my first year. She has since transferred to Africa and her replacement hasn’t arrived yet. 4th of July celebrations were a bit strange this year, anyway, with the party in Tirana not open to all volunteers and not observed until the following weekend. I don’t know how much support that volunteer had from her site mate or her service cohort or counterparts or if it would have made any difference. Six months into service is reputed to be a time of increased departures.

On Sunday afternoon, I hosted a small group of volunteers at my apartment for dinner. We made an eggplant stroganoff (made with yoghurt sauce instead of sour cream) served over noodles, salad, bread, and chocolate pound cake ala mode for dessert. The group included volunteers from my group, one from the new group and one from the prior group who opted to extend for a third year and move to Korca to work on a tourism project. We enjoyed our meal then joined the Sunday evening walkers for a pleasant stroll and a stop for coffee, then back home to watch a movie on my computer. I popped corn which we ate with salt and curry powder on it (don’t wince- you should try it) during the show. It was good to get together. It makes you feel a part of something, and calms the sense of isolation that is inevitable with a long service abroad.

I will be home for a visit in four months and have less than four months to go when I get back. Things are picking up at work as people have returned from August vacations. School has started. I have some new projects for this year. The weather has cooled a bit and I am enjoying my weekend hikes in the mountains again. I have short vacations planned in Turkey, Greece and Macedonia. I expect the time will pass quickly.

Mid Service Conference

2010-08-15T01:48:00.000-07:00

A week before mid-service conference I visited a new volunteer in my region in the small, mountain city of Leskovik. She is a young English teacher in grammar to high schools that have students traveling or boarding from small villages throughout the area. Leskovik is situated in a high saddle, overlooking valleys to the east and west, only a few miles from the Greek border. It was a major military base during the communist regime, but now more than half the population consists of the students. We hiked up into the steep, rocky hills to the south of the town. These are riddled with bunkers that are connected by a warren of tunnels. They are now used mostly for storage or for stables. It is hard to imagine the work that went into their construction. She told me that the father of her host family from pre-service training served as an officer here and, although he had privileges as an officer and misses the full employment under communism, he has no desire to go back to the old system.

Now Leskovik has little employment besides the school and hospital. Under a new reorganization plan, hospitals in smaller towns will be closed and made into clinics with minimal staffing. This will be hard for people living in places like Leskovik which will be a 4 hour bus ride from a hospital in either Korca or Gjirokaster. People living in rural areas, which have a higher percentage of older residents, will be especially hard hit by the new policy.

We strolled down the wide main street in central Leskovik which has straight rows of mature shade trees on either side, a remnant of the previous military influence in the city, I guess. We each had a glass of very sweet iced cocoa at a table amid a profusion of petunias on the deck of a coffee bar before I joined 13 other passengers in 9 passenger furgon for the trip back to Korca. Luckily the man sitting on my lap had bathed recently and the lady next to me was agreeable to opening the window.

A week later, I was on a bus to Tirana for Mid-Service Conference. Most of my cohort attended. There were a number of presentations about planning for post service. Former volunteers who are now working in Tirana talked about how they obtained employment with the State Department, the Peace Corps, the UN and a couple of NGO’s. One of the perks of PC service is that after completion of service, former volunteers can apply for awhile for US Federal jobs without going through the full competitive process.

Not everything was relevant to me. There were sessions on resume writing and discussions on alcohol abuse. Still, it was good to see everyone and, despite the oppressive heat, we took advantage of our time in the capital. We went out for Chinese food (there are a few ethnic restaurants in Tirana) twice. I bought some decaffeinated coffee for my landlord who has a heart arrhythmia complicating his recovery from his heart attack. This is not available in Korca as far as I know. I bought some black licorice for myself (also not in stores outside of the capital). I had my mid-service physical exam with the Peace Corps Medical Officer at the clinic at the staff office and met with a professor from the University where I will be teaching in the fall. He was about the only one in the department not on August vacation.

I asked him about how he had dealt with the anarchy in 1997. He responded slowly. He said that he had found jobs for himself and his wife, who is a veterinarian, in Canada and had obtained visas, but his mother had reminded him that he would be leaving his home country permanently. After talking it over with his wife, they reluctantly decided to stay. This was a rare exception to the brain drain that occurred in the chaos that followed the fall of communism and the Ponzi scheme a decade later. I was invited to dinner at their apartment. His wife is also an artist, and her work, decoupage with dried grass stems instead of paper, was striking. When I told one of the other volunteers about it, she observed that such a technique would be useful during times of communist privation for non-approved artists.

Several of my cohort traveled to Korca on Thursday for the Beer Festival. Some stayed with me, others with other volunteers assigned to Korca or nearby towns. We walked across town to the park near the University where the festival was held. There were dozens of booths serving light or dark Korca beer on tap, grilled chicken skewers or sausage like, kernace, a Korca tradition. A large dish of kernace, two chicken kabobs, and a fresh baked roll was about $4. Beer was about 50 cents a glass. An Albanian rock band blared away on the stage. What they lacked in quality they made up for in volume. I could barely stand it long enough to finish my share of the kernace and chicken, but most of the group stayed until long after midnight. I was glad I had a spare key to give to that group and woke to find them snoring away on the couches in my apartment.

I let them sleep in and, when they woke up, served French toast, coffee and cut up watermelon and figs for breakfast. We used some of my valuable supply of maple syrup I had brought back from Singapore. Later we walked around Korca. Some left to visit other volunteers in the south of Albania, still others arrived. I headed back to the festival to join them after the heat of the day subsided to eat more chicken and kernace. I hoped the band would be more tolerable but brought my earplugs along, just in case.

There is more traffic that I remember seeing before in Korca. It can be a long wait to safely cross the street. Cars do not typically give way to pedestrians. They have closed off some of the streets near the Beer Festival and supposedly only pedestrians are allowed on them. Somehow, cars still get on them and don’t necessarily slow down for the throngs of pedestrians that fill them. I am amazed they are not littered with bodies.

There are also more tourists in town than I have seen before. It used to be that a young person walking with a backpack was very likely a Peace Corps volunteer, but just today I have met backpackers touring through Albania from Slovakia, France, England, the Netherlands, Belgium, Canada and the US. There are tour buses parked in front of most of the bigger hotels in town. I hope it gives the economy a boost. The bazaar was more crowded than usual and there are lots of vendors along the streets near the festival.

I had received a phone call when I was in Tirana. A friend of mine from Tirana was in Korca, visiting his relatives. He is a retired engineer with a long time interest in Aviation. He wants very much to get young Albanians interested in airplanes. I wanted to show him the collection of books, charts, models and magazines we had at the American library in Korca and asked him to call me on his next visit. Luckily he was staying through the weekend.

When I got back home, I tried to call. I don’t know if it was because the system was overloaded by all the tourists or if it was due to my general lack of ability with cell phones, but I had the hardest time connecting with him. Calls or texts would not go through, or, if I was lucky enough to connect, I couldn’t hear him talking on the other end or he couldn’t hear me. Late Saturday night we finally connected. Not wanting to risk not meeting, I walked over to the park near his sister’s house and we talked about flying as we drank rosehips tea (called “zinzeef” here) at a table in the café in the park.

He was able to stay in Korca through Monday, so we arranged to meet at the library Monday morning. I hoped it would not be closed for August vacation like so much of the country or that the librarian would not have gone home early as the heat of the day made an oven of the second floor library. He wants to have teens build glider models and have regional competitions for them. There are places in the foothills around Korca that would be good places to fly them. We talked about possible grant sources for remote controls and construction materials, but he wants to keep it very simple. The bigger problem is sustaining interest among the teens and in the community. There is no tradition of after school activities. As soon as classes end, the schools close up, and the faculty and students head home. Korca is unusual in that the library has meeting rooms, but these cater to adults rather than children.

He told me the story of an old friend of his that died recently. He grew up in a small village on the Adriatic. One day a fighter plane, probably Italian, flew low along the coast before banking sharply to the left and heading out to sea. That image stayed with him his whole, long life. He fought with the partisans during WWII. Because of his heroism and loyal service, after the war he was rewarded with an air cadet training slot in Yugoslavia. Then Albania broke with Tito and the cadet was transferred to the USSR for advanced training. The Russians wanted to send the squadron to fight in the Korean War, but the Albanian communist government brought them home. When the government broke off relations with the Soviets, the friend’s time in the former allies brought him under suspicion and he was never allowed to fly again. Not that it made much of a difference as the paranoid regime felt airplanes in general were a threat and used those given to them by the Chinese as targets for artillery practice.

Interestingly, he also told me about a couple of German missionaries in the north who had built a kit plane with a Rotax engine and were flying it off an old military air strip. They had no registration or licenses. I wondered how they were able to get away with it, but maybe it is so unusual that the locals don’t think to complain and the authorities don’t even bother to deal with what in the US would be a violation of numerous regulations. I remember seeing a very small high wing plane built by Kitfox in Caldwell, Idaho, that had a pull cord starter coming through the dashboard. Wouldn’t that be fun to fly off the grass strip outside of Korca!

I wonder if a chance to go for a ride in an airplane would motivate young Albanians to aviation or other technical careers, the way it had so many young Americans in the past. I don’t think playing computer games has the same pull that looking down on your home from a small airplane, but, of course, I am prejudiced. As I walked home from our meeting, late at night through the still crowded streets, a few horse drawn carts clopped by. My first thought was that Albania had a long way to go in its development, but then it occurred to me that when the Wright brothers were experimenting with the design of their airplane, Dayton had lots of horse drawn carriages in the streets and probably less electrification than even rural Albania, and no television or internet or passenger jet contrails streaking the sky overhead. The bigger problem here is to get the young people to look down at their land and see their future in it, rather than to the horizon and the countries beyond the border.

Love in the Time of Peace Corps

2010-07-25T06:40:00.000-07:00

“Kau Ngaue Ofa” is what the Peace Corps is called in the Pacific Island Kingdom of Tonga (where there have been volunteers since 1967 and still are, working in education and economic development). The translation is: “They work for love”. I learned this from a book I found at the staff office in Tirana. They have several shelves in the lounge for a book exchange among the volunteers. I drop books off and look for new ones to read whenever I visit. The plot involves volunteers serving in 1976. There are beautiful young people, sex, drugs, alcohol, a love triangle, a gruesome murder and cover up in a tropical setting. I am fairly certain it is not an official history.

Unlike my friends in the Preca Society, Peace Corps volunteers are not required to take a vow of chastity. With an average age of 27 (skewed upwards a bit by the 10% oldster volunteers like me) and a term of service of over two years, it is not surprising that there are many pairings among the volunteers and with others.

I don’t know the statistic for the survival of marriages among Peace Corps volunteers. Whatever they are, it would be hard to be worse than for the rest of Americans. I did know a few couples that had served together in the Peace Corps early in their marriage and it did seem that they had a special bond between them. Even if that is true, it is hard to know whether that is due to the personality type of a volunteer or to their shared experience. I did read in Scientific American that emotional bonds are strengthened by doing new things together, feeling vulnerable, sharing frightening situations or stressful physical activities. The Peace Corps provides ample opportunity for all of those.

Most of the relationships are with people outside of the Peace Corps. Volunteers are not allowed to have dependents, but extended visits from girl or boyfriends do occur. This can lead to early termination, but not usually initiated by the Peace Corps. One girl in our group left to be with her boyfriend who was actually serving in another country. She took a job teaching there, outside of the Peace Corps. Separations are hard enough before entering the Peace Corps and I am sure it doesn’t get easier with repetition. Not many relationships survive a 27 month separation. Maybe that is something that Peace Corps service has in common with the military.

Some find paramours outside of the PC, but not among nationals. This can be difficult since volunteers rarely serve in the capital and most of the ex-pat community lives there. Two female volunteers I know took up with foreign soccer players playing on Albanian league teams in their towns. They seemed like good guys, but it was funny because of the double language barrier. I suppose they could learn Shqip together, but at a young age, that probably doesn’t matter.

The majority in relationships are with Albanian nationals. I have heard that this is the best way to learn a new language and I do notice that those among the volunteers with Albanian boyfriends or girlfriends do seem to have superior language skills. I imagine their Albanian partners have likewise improved their English.

Cultural problems of these liaisons can be substantial. Tradition does not allow much dating between the sexes. It is only in the larger cities that one sees groups of women or girls in some of the coffee shops, or, gasp, boys and girls out together. Women volunteers complain that they cannot go out at night without ruining their reputations and a bad reputation can make it very hard to accomplish anything as a volunteer. Having coffee can imply a significant relationship between a man and woman, especially if they are alone. Even exchanging telephone numbers has much more social implications than in the US. There is a strong double standard. We were told in pre-service training that traditionally dating is expected to lead to an engagement and engagement is expected to lead to marriage. All this is changing, of course. In Tirana and bigger regional cities these traditions no longer apply. Groups and even individual women do go out at night. My high school students date and many are sexually active. But what is true in a larger, regional center like Korca, is not the case in smaller cities or towns and villages. It can be difficult for the young volunteers to navigate. Dating in the modern age is difficult enough. Sometimes the social difficulties engendered by these entanglements require that the volunteers involved are transferred to new sites because of resentment in the community or even threats on physical safety.

I wonder at the Albanians, trading their traditional culture for the modern minefield. Some of my friends from back home are so burnt out by the experience that they have searched on line for Russian mail-order brides (are they now “e-mail-order brides”?), or have considered moving to the Philippines for a less expensive lifestyle and, maybe, hopefully, fewer difficulties in their relationships. It seems a faint hope, since few of them seem to have succeeded in their quests. I might suggest Albania to them, but one of the goals of the PC is “gender development”. By the time they get here, it is likely to be up to European standards of cost (both financial and emotional) and gender roles.

Still, I am told that an American passport is a powerful aphrodisiac. Remember Albanians call obtaining a visa to live and work in the US “winning the lottery”. I suppose some regard dating an American of whatever age, appearance or sexual persuasion akin to buying a ticket. Even I have been offered introductions, which is surprising since I am of an age that Albanians regard as only fit to spend the day drinking coffee or raki and sitting in a park playing dominos.

Lucky for me and unexpected, the Peace Corps placed a lovely, retired social worker from Oklahoma in my service group and in a city that is reachable by a single, although long, bus ride. We seem to have more in common than just our PC service and have hit it off pretty well. I might suspect that some Peace Corps bureaucrat dabbles in match making, but my experience to date makes me seriously doubt they have that degree of subtlety. Maybe I will have to reconsider.

Church Tour

2010-07-19T04:12:00.000-07:00

My home church in Idaho has a partner church in the western part of Romania. This is Transylvania which used to be part of Hungary but was ceded to Romania as part of the Treaty of Paris after WW I. Since then it has been subject to a policy under the communist and post-communist governments of encouraging settlement of ethnic Romanians in the region with the result that the original Hungarians are now a minority in their homeland. Over the preceding centuries it was a battleground for various Christian religions and political conflicts dating back to the 30 Years War. Every year my home church sends a group to visit and since I live so close, I decided to use some of my vacation to join this year’s trip.

It is an incredibly scenic area of natural and historic sites. We took the gondola to the top of a ski area. We climbed hills and walked through gorges. We visited a palace and a monastery, a castle straight out of Dracula (where I stood in the garden trying to take a photo of lightning striking the tower during a thunderstorm) and a fortress church that had withstood over 100 sieges. The architecture was the ornate, classical style of the Hapsburg Empire surrounding large cobbled squares with fountains and formal parks. We visited multiple churches of various denominations; Catholic, Lutheran, Orthodox and Unitarian.

We stayed a good part of the time with families in the village of our partner church. I would estimate the area we visited to be 10 to 15 years ahead of Albania in development, with good roads, reliable water and electricity, restoration and management of tourist areas and environmental protection. Our village hosts were very hospitable and shared the tradition of overfeeding guests, which, I am beginning to suspect, is common throughout Eastern Europe. The food was very good, but much heavier than the Mediterranean fare in Albania.

We heard a lot about ethnic divisions and suspicions which are almost never heard in Albania. Following the Balkan Wars that preceded WW I, the country of Albania was carved out of a much larger area of ethnic Albanians that now includes Kosovo, and parts of Macedonia and Greece. Maybe attitudes would be similar in the Albanian ethnic enclave in northern Greece where they were forced to adopt Greek names for families and geography and forbidden from using the Albanian language. I was surprised by how there was no mention of Albania in the Orthodox museums I visited in Athens and Corfu. I wonder how southwestern Idaho would feel if a chunk of territory were carved off and given to Oregon. Of course, border tensions occurred when Japanese living in Oregon were put in internment camps during WW II, but those living east of the Snake River in Idaho were not. Some of their Idaho neighbors rose to the occasion and traded farms for the duration and the Japanese community was quickly reestablished after the war to a greater degree than in many other parts of the west. At much greater personal risk, many Muslim Albanians sheltered their Jewish neighbors and refugees from other countries during WW II, although the survivors largely immigrated from the communist regime to the new Jewish state after the war.

I wonder how the evolution of the EU will change attitudes as traditional nation states of Europe become more ethnically diverse with freedom of economic migration like we have in the US. Will resentments resolve if the only difference between being an ethnic Hungarian in Romania and an ethnic Hungarian in Hungary is in the choice of postage stamps? I suppose one should never underestimate the militancy of serious philatelists.

I enjoyed spending time with people I know from back home and the host families in the village were great. They invited me back in a few months if I needed a break from life in Albania. That was nice, but I don’t, not really, and I miss my friends back there. I think I am getting a foretaste of the dilemma that many Peace Corps volunteers face at the close of service. They have generally adjusted to the vagaries of life in the host country; housing, diet, work, transportation, language, etc. Their sense of home has become a blend of the third world, the US and their cohort of volunteers, and one has to anticipate a period of accommodation post service. Mid-service conference is coming up in August and I am sure that issue will begin to be addressed at the meeting.

The trip ended with a very long train ride across Romania, back to Bucharest. It was made longer as large parts of the track are being reconstructed and my train had to wait hours on side tracks for opposing traffic to pass. We arrived near midnight at our hotel near the airport. I slept a couple of hours and then caught an early shuttle van to the airport to arrange an earlier flight back to Tirana where I was to meet visiting friends on their way home after more than a decade of missionary service in Papua New Guinea.

They spent a couple of days touring Tirana and then we took a bus back to Korca. I showed them around my city over the weekend. To their eyes, accustomed to a primitive, South Pacific jungle island, Albania seems highly developed. They enjoyed the coffee shops, restaurants and museums. They especially enjoyed the walks after it cooled a bit and we joined the citizens of Korca out for the evening stroll. This was not something they could do safely in the cities or towns of New Guinea. One night we stopped for ice cream, and the next we sat on a balcony, overlooking the city and sipped cocoa.

On Saturday, we were invited to a lakror feast (a traditional layered pastry with cheese and a wild, leek-like herb baked in a covered pan over a wood fire). Dr. Isufi and his friends were hosting an official from the EU at the ski area near Dardhe. Local and regional officials attended as well as representative patients and family members from the recreation group that frequently uses the area. They are trying to get funding for a better lift system and other improvements. They have big plans and high hopes and their enthusiasm is such a contrast to my high school students who seem to have adopted the Greek attitude towards their country.

I hope the EU acts favorably on at least some of their requests for help with their projects. It would help in so many ways; tourism, recreational opportunities, pride in their accomplishments and recognition of their potential. A summer thunderstorm showered rain and hail over the mountain, but I think the EU representative enjoyed the food, music, dancing and talk inside the day lodge. I showed him winter pictures that were on my digital camera. Outside water and mud washed down the slopes.

The rain stopped and the EU entourage left for the long drive back to Tirana. My friends and I picked our way up to the top of the ski hill where we could see north to Macedonia and south and east to Greece. We helped minimally with the clean up and then, as the sun was setting, lighting up the lingering clouds, we made the short trip back into Korca.

Freedom of Travel

2010-06-29T04:22:00.000-07:00

It is the time of year that one thinks, however briefly between the barbeque and the fireworks, of the good fortune to be born an American. What activity better epitomizes “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” than the freedom of travel? I can pull out my magic passport and go to Greece or Romania at a whim, while my Albanian friends are limited to their own country and Macedonia, unless they smuggle themselves to Greece or Italy for work. When I tell them it will soon change with the easing of visa requirements as they move towards membership in the European Union, they are skeptical.

I have traveled a lot in the past two weeks. I had a meeting in Permet to plan summer health education activities. Summer is often a down time for work at the district health departments where most of us have our primary assignments. The meeting was well organized and productive. It was just before the Festival of Wines, so I got to see a bit of that as well. It was a bigger event this year, but not well advertised, so they appreciated the eight Peace Corps volunteers that came for the meeting. The music and dancing were great with local groups and others from as far away as Kosovo. I don’t drink, but the other volunteers told me that the quality of the local wines has noticeably improved in just the past year.

After the meeting, I joined other volunteers in Saranda for a weekend in Corfu. A 45 minute hydrofoil ride to Corfu town brings one back to the first world organization and functionality of the EU. I have heard and read about the problems of the Greek economy, but it was certainly not evident in Corfu. Dozens of ferries and cruise ships lined the port. The warren of narrow, cobbled streets of the old center of town was a delight to wander. It is clean and well maintained. There were hundreds of stores and restaurants, historic buildings and museums from Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Venetian, Italian, Austo-Hungarian, and English eras. The beaches are immaculate. The waters were clear, deep blue and signs indicated they all met the high EU environmental standards. The island was crowded with tourists and it wasn’t even high season yet.

Monday morning we got in line at the terminal for the trip back to Saranda. There were several bus loads from the cruise ships for a day excursion to Butrint, the world heritage archeology site south of Saranda. After they passed through customs, they boarded their own ferry for the short ride up the narrow channel. In Saranda, a fleet of modern tour buses awaited them by the dock. I have heard they are warned by their guides to be wary of Albanians. As far as I can tell this is mostly for effect. It probably increases the tips the guides receive for protecting their charges. From what? As far as I know, the main risk is that an Albania might chat with them briefly and then insist on treating them to coffee. I suppose this could be hazardous if you were not sleeping well on the boat or you were LDS.

From Saranda, I traveled back to Permet and then on to Tirana for another meeting (the Peace Corps is a US government organization, after all). This was the annual warden conference. I got an earful on the problems of volunteers in southern Kyrgyzstan escaping from the recent outbreak of ethnic violence, and also had the opportunity to meet some from the new group of volunteers. They are all bright, and eager and capable, and … so young! I feel like I am slipping further into geezertude with every encounter.

On Friday, Lorenz, my fellow teacher from Preka, picked me up in his old Mercedes and we drove to visit a Maltese priest friend of his that lives in Mamurras, north of Tirana. Lorenz loves to travel and had invited me to go along. This was an opportunity for me to see new parts of Albania and I eagerly accepted, even though it would keep me away from Korca for a few more days. He kindly changed his plans a bit to give a ride to a couple of the wardens from Shkoder, a historic and cultural center in northern Albania.

Lorenz is a member of a Catholic lay society so the trip to the north was especially meaningful for him since north Albania is predominantly Catholic (as the south is Orthodox and the center Muslim). We visited the large cathedral in the center of Shkoder. The communists used it as a gymnasium for sports and as a meeting hall for rallies. Even on a Friday afternoon there were many sitting in prayer. One woman came up to us and offered to show us around. On one side were photos of 47 priests, monks, nuns and a few lay Catholics who were killed by the communist regime because of their faith. They were all beatified a few years ago by the Pope. After that we walked through an old part of town, past some beautiful Italianate buildings to the Franciscan church and monastery. We were given a tour by one of the monks. The church had been used as a movie theater. Its frescoes had been painted over. Its altars and sculptures either destroyed or put in a communist museum set up to ridicule religion. The bones from a shrine to a martyr had even been dug up and cast into the Drina River that flows through the city. The frescoes are now being slowly restored. The pieces that survived only because they were on display have been returned to their rightful places in the church. A few bones from the spine and the hand of the martyr washed up from the river and a new shrine was built. Finally, we walked over to a convent where there had been a special prison just for clergy. There were two floors of isolation cells. There were manacles on the wall which were used to try to get the priests to give up information to the security police that the priests had received in the confessional. Some were tied to a tree near the church and left to die in public. What amazed both Lorenz and me was that this did not occur hundreds of years ago during the inquisition, but during our lifetimes. Neither of us remembers hearing a word about it.

Saturday we drove north a bit to within view of the Albanian Alps. This is an area of high forested peaks and winding rivers and lakes. Peace Corps volunteers are not allowed in the far northern districts of Albania. This policy is changing as the north evolves from a wild, lawless area of blood feuds to a major tourist destination. If I don’t get there during the next year, I plan to travel through on my way home after I complete my term of service. On the balcony of a coffee shop which overlooked one of the mountain lakes we struck up a conversation with a local who was building a camp ground nearby. We learned that the north is still not safe, as he insisted on buying us coffee even as we had not yet finished the cups we had ordered. I wonder how many tourists will die of caffeine overdose before this area is fully pacified.

I am not a great fan of driving, but Lorenz loves the open road, probably because there are not many opportunities for long, highway drives in tiny Malta. In the afternoon we drove along the modern, new four lane highway that goes from the Adriatic Sea, across Albania to Kukes, a city on the border with Kosovo. It is as advanced a road as anything constructed in Europe or the US. In less than two hours we were in Kukes. Before the highway the trip took 10 hours or more. The road includes a six mile tunnel straight through the mountains. Giant turbines blow air through the tunnel to avoid accumulation of carbon dioxide. Other roads like this are either under construction or are planned around the country. Someday the trip from Korca to Tirana or Saranda will take just a couple of hours. A drive from Elbasan to Tirana will be less than 45 minutes.

On Sunday, we drove to Burrel and Bulqize. It was not a highway, but the road was pretty good. It followed narrow canyons, along the hillsides and ridges above rivers and lakes and valleys and whitewashed stone farm buildings with red tiled roofs and hay stacked in the fields in conical bales. We stopped in Ulza, a tidy town with a lovely, small church which stands above a central square. The town is on a hill on the side of a reservoir above a hydroelectric dam. We attended mass and, afterwards, the man sitting behind us took us and a group of Slovakian nuns for coffee at his restaurant, which is set in a garden overlooking the lake. The setting reminded me of the patio at Shore Lodge back home in McCall, overlooking Payette Lake and the surrounding mountains. Someday, I will chat briefly with strangers in McCall and insist on taking them for coffee on that patio. It will probably get me arrested.

After a rest at Mamurras, we drove back to Korca. I felt badly because the Peace Corps does not allow me to drive in Albania. I am glad Lorenz likes to drive, but I think he could have used some relief. I have not driven a car in more than 15 months and the roads and traffic and driving in Albania can be pretty daunting as it is very hard to predict what other drivers will do, let alone pedestrians, horse carts, motor bikes, bicycles, trucks, buses, vans, tractors, sheep, goats, cattle, etc., that share most roads. Perhaps it is because of that restriction that we made it safely back to Korca. Preka is planning an outing for the teachers on Tuesday in Macedonia, but I need to do some work, so I won’t join them. I am leaving for Romania next week.

The Albanian Uncertainty Principle

2010-06-12T23:07:00.000-07:00

I must be getting comfortable here as I am starting to revert to type. I went hiking up a canyon to the south of the mountain on Saturday morning. I went early to beat the heat of the day. It is now typical summer weather with highs in the upper 80’s in Korca and close to 100 in Tirana or Elbasan. I hiked in a narrow canyon along a stream full of snowmelt from the surrounding peaks. The trail, such as it was, crossed the creek several times. I leapt from rock to slippery rock. I lost my footing and ended up in the water.

I quickly got out of the cold water. I inventoried my parts; some bruises and scrapes but nothing broken. How many times have I done something like this in Idaho? Too many to count, sitting up after a slip or fall thinking that if I had broken something major or hit my head they would have found my body next spring. But here I didn’t even have a dog for company.

The worst part was that as I washed off the blood and pulled some gravel out of the scratches, I remembered that, while I had left my wallet in my apartment, I had dutifully carried my cell phone, as I am required by the Peace Corps to do at all times. I pulled the wet phone from my pocket, shook off the water and noticed a bubble of water under the display.

I limped home in the warming morning. By the time I got home my pants were almost dry. I took the phone apart, placed the pieces in a bowl, buried them under some dry rice (a remedy I found on line) and set it in the sun. After 48 hours, if I am lucky, I will have a phone again. Meanwhile, I was supposed to meet a fellow volunteer who was transiting through Korca. I knew what time her bus was to leave, so about the time I figured she would arrive, I walked over to where the furgons let people off. I waited about an hour and about a half hour before her departure she arrived in Korca. She asked me why I hadn’t responded to her text messages and, before she had to get on her bus, I explained over coffee my morning misadventure.

I am already used to the many uncertainties involved in living in Albania. I know to check my raisins for small pebbles, my chopped walnuts for shells or small spiders, my shoes and bed for scorpions, meat for bone shards, jam for pieces of stems, yoghurt that may have gone bad or grapes that may have residue from organophosphate insecticide. I know to plan that at any time the water or power may not be on, although this is much more of a problem in other parts of Albania, and the tap water in Korca is generally safe to drink. The internet may or may not work, or have much capacity if it does, depending on whether the local teens are likely to be active on Facebook or internet games, or it is raining or windy. I have more or less figured out the many idiosyncrasies of my apartment, including my laundry, the couch, my bed, my wardrobe, my front door lock, the windows, the refrigerator, the stove, and, especially, the bathroom with the problematic water heater, commode and, especially, the shower.

I know that prices may be quoted in old or new lek, so if something seems kind of expensive it is probably old lek, which are 10 to the new. It is always a good idea to ask the cost of something, because the prices seem to vary a lot and may be subject to negotiation. Products which I like may appear and disappear, even in the larger stores. Schedules and appointments are always subject to change without notice, even if you have a functioning cell phone.

How does one ever resolve the ambiguities of a new language? Age makes it more difficult as words do not seem to stick, and I forget almost as fast as I learn. Gestures can add to the confusion. Albanians shake their heads from side to side to indicate “yes” and nod with a slight click of the tongue to say “no”. I think the worst part, however, is the loss of one of the few good things that come with age that you become increasingly comfortable in your own idiom. A return to the incompetency of youth makes me feel more crumbling than challenged. It is like when I tried snowboarding a few years ago. I am a pretty good skier, but even more than the pain from frequent falls on the board, more than I had had in years on skis, was the indignity of the clumsy dismount from the lift or the struggle down the beginner slope. My Albanian still has the jerky cadence of my snowboarding as I carefully pick my way through any substantive communication. I long for the sense of assurance I felt when I put my skis back on and confidently went in whatever direction I chose.

My last classes of the school year were this past Thursday. A couple of weeks ago, the head of the school had asked me not to give a class on that day, so I combined my last two lesson plans and finished the course. Then on Tuesday, I was asked by the assistant director to give a class. I don’t feel it is in the spirit of being a volunteer to say no, so I planned a new lesson. This was on the environment, something that is within the purview of health education, but was not covered in my life skills classes. The first two classes went well, but in the last one, the last class of the school day and the school year, it was not really possible to maintain much attention. The kids wanted to take pictures with their cameras and cell phones. I invited the ones that were interested to another room to do the lesson which involved watching some videos and discussing littering, abandoned chemical plants, burning trash and landfills (riveting stuff, I know, but it worked fine in the two previous classes). The third in command came in and asked me to return to the class to maintain order and keep the noise down. I was tempted, at that point, to say, “Hey, I’m a volunteer, you do it”. I didn’t of course, but I think I have new insight as to why the CIA is able to keep killing off the third in command of Al Qaeda on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.

I have a stack of finals to grade (I gave an open book, take home test which most of the class turned in on the final day of class) and I have to enter the scores into the program I worked up to do the grades on the curve (left weighted, and pretty easy. Life Skills is not a core course like math or literature, and doesn’t count for much). I am supposed to get them in by Monday.

I have done a lot of different jobs over my many years, including teaching graduate students, but I had never taught high school. It is much harder, probably the hardest grade level to teach. I also taught a class at the nursing college this year and that was much easier, even though it was in Albanian and the high school class in English. I want to take this opportunity to officially apologize to my high school teachers from so many years ago. I am truly sorry. I didn’t know.

Next week I start a series of summer travels. There is a meeting in Permet for the health education volunteers, a quick trip with friends to Corfu, the warden meeting in Tirana, the Fourth of July party in Tirana, a vacation trip to Romania where I will meet up with a group from Idaho for a tour and a visit to our partner church from back home, a visit from Canadian friends for a brief Albanian tour as they make their way home to retirement near Toronto after almost 20 years as missionaries in Papua New Guinea.

Like many countries in southern Europe, most of the working population in Albania goes on vacation for the month of August, so not much happens then. The Peace Corps is planning the mid service conference for my cohort at the middle of that month. It will be in Korca to coincide with the Beer Festival. I have a good friend from Idaho planning a couple of weeks in Albania the end of September. November and December are full of holidays. The end of January and the first week of February I am heading home for a visit and a course (my flight instructor refresher course required to maintain that license) before I come back to Albania for my last three months of service. The Peace Corps does not allow volunteers to leave the country for 90 days prior to their close of service date, and many volunteers use what vacation time they have left to tour parts of the country they have not yet seen. I figure the only full month of service I have left is October. It will likely go fast. Meanwhile, I will try to be more careful. I don’t want to be sent home early with a broken leg, or worse.

Kultur in Korca

2010-05-26T11:15:00.000-07:00

As I sat listening to a recent cello and piano concert in an upstairs art gallery at the “Cultural Palace” in Korca, it occurred to me how different my Peace Corps experience has been from what I expected. I could be living in a mud hut in Botswana or a yurt in Mongolia with only occasional opportunities to watch a native dance or listen to throat singers. Instead, even though Albania is the second poorest country in Europe, it is still in Europe with all the cultural traditions that implies. This is especially true for Korca, which prides itself on its music, art, folk traditions, and much more.

There is a moderate sized public building next to the library in central Korca that is called the Cultural Palace. It is named after Vangjush Mio, a celebrated Albanian artist who was from Korca. His home in the old part of town is now a museum. The Cultural Palace has several rooms on its two floors. Downstairs is a gallery for touring shows of paintings or sculpture. Upstairs is the salon used for recitals, usually classical European instrumental or vocal music. I have not found a reliable source for the schedule of events, so I make it a point to walk by it frequently and hope that banners about cultural events will be displayed on the front of the building before they actually occur, which is not always the case. During the past few months, there have been a piano duet and piano recital, photography from local students, a touring exhibit of art from Shkroder in northern Albania, and an exhibit of contemporary sculpture and paintings from local artists. There is a trombone and piano recital scheduled for tomorrow.

Performances usually start on time. A program is rarely provided. Frequently they are videotaped by the local TV station. The bright lights and roving camera men detract a bit from the experience. Sometimes they bump against the paintings hanging on the walls or their cell phones go off and they take the call. This is a bit annoying, but seems to bother mainly me and maybe a couple of others in the audience. At the end of a performance, invariably a couple of audience members, usually a small child or young woman, will carry bouquets of fresh flowers to the performers. They kiss the artists on both cheeks and the audience applauds. There are never encores. Often the musicians are faculty from the local music academy or recent alumni.

Across the street from the Cultural Palace is the Cajupi Theater. This is a performance hall that hosts touring theater or musical groups or local productions such as the recent high school reviews of singing and dancing, both modern and traditional, skits and even videos produced by the students. There were nights for each of the local high schools and then one night which was a compilation of the best from all the schools. I think there was a competition to be included in this although a winner was not announce and prizes were not awarded in public either during or after the show, although several performers did get their flowers.

Earlier in the year I went to a contemporary play at the Cajupi. It was a situation comedy by an Albanian playwright. I didn’t get all the dialogue, but was able to follow it pretty much. Before that, a touring musical review of apparently well known national popular singers performed. It reminded me of a Lawrence Welk show with an older couple singing romantic ballads to each other and another act consisting of a father and his five young daughters. One singer came out into the audience and the spot light was shown on a few of the attendees who broke into song, singing a verse of the, apparently, well known and beloved number in progress. Towards the end of the show, the head of the Orthodox Church in Korca came onstage to bless the performance and introduce a long haired, middle aged priest with a pony tail, who sang a popular song. For the finale, all the cast, including the priests, came onstage and sang a big number. Lights and streamers fluttered in the fans that blew at the rear of the stage. The volume, typically, was set to painful levels. I have to be more consistent in remembering to bring my ear plugs for protection.

Neither of these public venues is particularly well maintained. Plaster is falling off the walls and the ceilings are stained by leaks. There is not much heat in the winter and no air conditioning in the summer. The rows of chairs are not all bolted to the floor and are pushed tightly together. Some people, usually the camera men or, for the high school performances students in the balcony, smoked, although I am pretty sure smoking is prohibited. One of the high school numbers involved students dancing and singing while carrying lighted candelabras and I worried a bit what would happen in the crowded theater if the curtains or streamers caught on fire or a smoker dropped a lit cigarette on the wooden floor. Thankfully, there was not the opportunity to find out.

In the fall, there were exhibits at the museum housed in the building where the first school that taught in Albanian during the declining years of Ottoman rule. These were of photographs and paintings by a local artist. Before that, on a pleasant fall day, artisans demonstrated traditional crafts and displayed some of their wares in the courtyard in the courtyard. Across the street from this museum is a coffee shop that is in the house that belonged to Themistokli Germangji, who was the leader of the autonomous region of Korca between the world wars of the 20th century. They have a very pleasant outside garden and have a jazz band that plays intermittently during the summer.

The Museum of Medieval Art houses the icon collection in a communist era office building made out of a modified church. There are plans to restore the church and a new museum is under construction on one of the main boulevards. This is near the modern building that houses the Bratko Museum of Oriental Art. The name is misleading because it houses a fairly idiosyncratic collection of a son of Korca who made a career in Hollywood and decided to build a museum in his home town to house the art and artifacts he had amassed over his long career that included military service as a photographer in occupied Japan after WWII. I love museums like this that gives insight into the collector as well as the collection. There is one more museum, for archeology, that also serves as temporary housing and a lab for visiting archeologists who explore the many burial sites in the area that date form the Stone Age.

On the boulevard that runs between the cathedral and the university is a park dedicated to Germangji. There is a large bronze statue of him there and behind that a wooden gazebo where, on summer evenings, locals gather in a circle around a small band of accordion, clarinet, mandolin and violin, and sing traditional Korcan ballads. Often along the three main boulevards that attract scores of walkers in the evening as the weather improves, there are street musicians playing the clarinet or drums. Many of the beer gardens have live music on weekends and groups vary between traditional, Korcan music and rock. Since I live near Birra Korca, I often walk past them and listen in. Sometimes I go with friends, but since I don’t drink I don’t go alone and would awkward sitting for long.

Closer to the university is a large park where sculptures are displayed. There is an annual competition and somehow a few are selected each year to be added to the permanent collection in the park. This park has many well tended flower beds and is a favorite stroll for local families or couples during evenings when the weather allows.

The university hosts some cultural events. I went to a recent conference on Camus in the agricultural building. It was sponsored by the Aliance Francez and was in French and shqip. The room it was held in was fairly modern and not as noisy as usual. I was able to follow most of the lectures. The TV camera men roamed around during the presentations and a friend of mine later told me that my image was on the local news that night. Also, the university hosts the Korca Beer Festival in August. On the main street near the university are also many night clubs. I leave these to the younger volunteers.

In a week or two, there should be the Carnival. I have asked about it but have not been able to find out exactly when it is scheduled. I am pretty sure is will be happening soon since they have put up flags near the cathedral and I think there is the start of a stage. I am looking forward to seeing the parade with the traditional music and dancers. I wonder if the local Elvis impersonator will participate again, riding in a white convertible while he sings from the King’s repertoire, stopping occasionally to dance around the car. It would not surprise me if there are Elvis impersonators in every country where there are Peace Corps volunteers. I wonder how “Hound Dog” sounds when sung by a Mongolian throat singer.

May Day

2010-05-04T10:45:00.001-07:00

The Peace Corps safety director for Albania sent out a general text message to the cell phones that volunteers are required to carry at all times. The opposition party had scheduled a big rally in Tirana for the day and the party in power had scheduled a huge counter protest for the next day. Volunteers are not allowed to go near anything political to avoid even an implied endorsement of one side or the other in the various political disputes. We were warned away for the weekend from going anywhere near Skanderbeg Square in the center of the city. The younger volunteers were planning a fund raiser party in Tirana this weekend for the cause of supporting Albanian youngsters to attend an environmental camp in Minnesota this summer. It is a good cause and I am happy to support it with a donation, but I am too old for beer and loud rock music parties. I planned to stay home in Korca and didn’t need the caution.

My pilot friends might think this is a distress call (things are fine, thanks), but May Day refers to May first which is Labor Day in most of the world and the big holiday under the communists. It is still a holiday here and many families plan picnics in the mountains or at nearby lakes. The weather was about as nice as you could want; sunny and 70 degrees with a light breeze. I awoke early, did my exercise routine and headed up the mountain towards the cross for the traditional Korca morning constitutional. There were lots of people hiking up the road, families and groups from teens to pensioners.

I stopped briefly at St. Theodur’s church, about halfway up. I said hello to the caretaker who is there every day about 5:30 AM. He has been doing a lot of work on the yard around the church, planting trees and fixing the stairs to the chapel. It is very small, but has some of my favorite icons. A lot of the regular morning walkers use it as their destination and pull the rope to ring the bell before heading back down to the city. I continued out the back gate, up the hill, past a spring where some people had already spread out their picnic. I walked along the road a bit, past a couple of large groups of teens, and then took a steep and rocky path that is a more direct route to the summit. It offers some nice views of the canyon that is to the south of the mountain. I decided to explore the opposite side and make my way down to the path along the stream and through the canyon back to Korca.

Beyond the cross, the path was not well marked. It was steep and rocky. On the plus side there was hardly any litter and the view was spectacular down to the stream and canyon below and up to the higher, snow covered mountains to the east. I carefully made my way through the rocks and trees and eventually found a path. I followed it down the mountain to the creek where I came upon a group of teenage boys swimming in the water. I walked down the creek, occasionally passing a few people on foot or horseback. The horses had the traditional wooden saddles that look uncomfortable to both wear and to ride. They are ridden side saddle by up to three riders. The horses, like the people here, work hard.

I came out of the canyon at the village of Mborje which is adjacent to my end of Korca. Even though the hike had taken several hours, I was not in a hurry so I decided to further explore along the road to the south. After a bit it took a bend in the wrong direction and then petered out. I didn’t want to back track and then noticed that a man with a load of wood on a small mule went off on a path in a better direction off the side of the road. I followed him.

Before long I caught up with him and he struck up a conversation. He asked me where I was from.

“America”, I said in my limited shqip.

“Do you speak Greek? Italian?” he offered as a way to facilitate our speaking.

“No, only English, Spanish and a little shqip”, I replied. Most Albanian are multi-lingual, but with languages that don’t usually help an American. Older, educated people speak some Russian or Chinese from the sequence of communist alliances, the aged often some French from past cultural ties particularly in Korca where there was a French school and there is still a French library, and the younger adults who have done migrant labor in Europe, usually Greek or Italian.

I told him I was looking for a path back to Korca and he told me to follow him. We walked along a fence and then across a field. We came at last to a group of houses and he invited me in for a drink. As I have mentioned before, this is the principle risk of hiking in Albania. Of course, I accepted.

His name was Nadir. We sat at a table in his yard among his flowering quince and apple trees and budding grape vines. I was introduced to his father, his mother, his wife and two year old daughter. He told me his five month old twins were inside. He had been born in Mborje and had built this house about 8 years ago with money he had earned in Greece working in farm labor and construction. It is a nice home. He has two cows in addition to his mule. He has some land a couple of kilometers away where he grows grain and hay to feed his animals. He recently bought a tractor and hires out with his machine to work for other farmers in the village. He said gasoline was so expensive it was hard to make much money at this enterprise. It has recently risen about 30% to about $1.50 a quart. He asked me how much gas was in the U.S. I told him it was about half what it cost in Albania. I didn’t tell him how much people complain about the high price of gas in America. We finished our Turkish coffee. He asked me if I liked it. I don’t mind it, it is like cowboy coffee back home, so I it was not so strange to me when I came Albania. I did tell him I usually drink what they call “filter coffee” or “American coffee”. I have a drip coffee pot, kindly left to me by another volunteer when she returned to the States. Nadir had never had that. I offered to give him some if he would visit me in Korca. We exchanged cell phone numbers before I headed off down the road towards town.

The other night, my landlord, Palo knocked on my door to introduce a neighbor who wants to learn English. Most young Albanians see English as a key to a more prosperous future. She has been paying for classes and having trouble finding time between her two work shifts and also it is expensive. Neighbors have obligations to each other in Albania, so of course I agreed. The Peace Corps provided me with some computer based English teaching materials which I have found very helpful. I have a couple of people I tutor one on one. One is going off to college next year, so I will have some free time for another student.

My neighbor is a young woman who I think is the mother of Megi, who is in the group of young kids who frequently knock on my door to talk to me and practice their English. It is taught in most grammar schools. At their age it is not much beyond “hello, how are you?”, but I try to introduce new words. Sometimes I lead them around the apartment building, picking up trash and give them each a new word when they put something in the bag. I figure this way I am staying true to my primary assignment in health education, which includes the environment. It’s not an environmental camp in Minnesota, but I don’t have to organize a party to raise money.

Good House Pets

2010-04-26T11:37:00.000-07:00

I was hiking along a trail in the hills east of Korca, when I noticed that several people I passed were carrying wicker cages. At first I thought they were traps of some sort, but a closer look revealed they were taking their pet parakeets out for a walk. Maybe this is a common practice in other countries, but I have never seen it before. I wonder if the birds appreciate the fresh air and change of scenery. Birds are very popular pets in Albania. As the weather warms up people hang their cages out on balconies or outside apartment windows. Birdsong brightens up a springtime walk along the cobblestone alleys in old Korca or on the boulevards or sidewalks in newer parts of town.

Dogs and cats are everywhere in Albania. In villages, every yard seems to have a dog chained to a dog house to scare away intruders, human or other. In Korca, dogs wander the streets and hillsides. Cats slink under fences and along rooftops. They raid trash bins and contribute to the general profusion of litter, but, on the positive side, I haven’t seen many rats or mice. They are pretty street-smart. Cars race by since Albanian drivers love to floor it and race along any distance that might open up in the traffic. I have seen dogs step out onto a street and carefully look both ways before crossing. I should not have been surprised; otherwise the streets would be littered with carcasses.

People here seem to like dogs and cats, but house pets are a newer phenomenon. I have not seen dog treats in the markets. One of my neighbors has a Pomeranian that appears pampered. They even asked my help in giving it a vaccination they had obtained from Greece. I am not sure what it was, as I can’t read Greek. I reconstituted it, injected it under the skin on its back, and hoped for the best. Few dogs or cats receive vaccinations and almost none are neutered. I haven’t seen any dog catchers around, but they must make periodic sweeps or there would be more dogs roaming around than there are.

The neighbor often takes his little dog running on the road up to the cross. Almost every day, I see it running pluckily along trying to keep up on its stubby legs, the bells on its collar jingling, its tongue hanging out. It must be in fantastic shape for a Pom. Frequently the wife or daughter sits in the alley next to our building with the dog in their lap.

Ilky, the neighborhood alpha dog who slept by my door during winter, now sleeps on the stoop of the apartment across the alley. I think he must belong to the family that lives there. He is a good dog. He greets almost everyone enthusiastically. He keeps order in the yard and doesn’t bark too much at night. We gave him the bone from the pot roast we ate for Easter dinner. He turns up his nose when I offer him bits of kibble that I bought as a treat for him, but he attacked that bone with gusto.

Isufi has a puppy named Lupe, a small to medium dog that looks like she is a good part Husky. He likes dogs. I have seen him give Lupe a scratch behind the ear and play with her at times. She sleeps in his yard and, as far as I know, is not allowed in the house. During the day she is allowed out of the gate to roam the streets of Korca. She does not have a collar. Isufi does not buy dog food. Like most dogs in Albania, Lupe is fed table scraps. She doesn’t look malnourished. I haven’t asked him what he will do when she inevitably has a litter. I am afraid he will misunderstand me and try to give me one of them. That happened to a volunteer in a previous group who mentioned to an Albanian friend that she liked dogs.

A volunteer in my group has two dogs. They are typical Albanian mutts. She rents a house and has a yard and has even built a kennel. She has had them neutered and they have been wormed and had all their shots. They have collars and are leash trained and she walks them around her town. Her counterpart isn’t married and is willing to do dog sitting when she has to travel. I miss having a dog, but I couldn’t manage any of that with my apartment. Also, there are lots of hoops to jump through to bring a dog back to America. I think it is easier for a volunteer to bring home an Albanian spouse.

The wandering dogs of Korca seem pretty well behaved and mostly interested in each other. Walking in the countryside, one has to be wary of the sheep dogs. I have been told that if you get between them and their sheep you may be attacked, so I am careful to walk around them. Sometimes I pick up a rock to chuck at them and scare them off if they seem aggressive.

There are other pets. There are a few horses in the neighborhood, but, however much the owner dotes on them, they are mainly work animals. Horse drawn carts are common in Korca. A Roma man stands in front of the market in Korca with his pet bear. You can take a photo with the bear for about five dollars. He walks the bear, which looks like it weighs about 250 lbs., on a leash over to a nearby park where the bear and the man lie under a tree for a break. I assume the man found the bear as a cub and has had him since. The bear looks in much better shape than the man. The younger boy of my host family keeps rabbits. They are pets, but also a commercial enterprise for meat and pelts. He reminds me of the 4-H kids back home, but he is too big to cry when he has to sell one.

Once, as I was returning from a hike in the hills above Thane, I met my host mother on the road. She had the two family cows on a rope and was walking them, letting them browse the grass and weeds along the side. I watched them for awhile and then I mentioned to her that back home I often saw people taking their dogs for a walk, but had never before seen someone walking their cow. She asked me which I thought was better for walking, dogs or cows. I told her that I had never gotten milk from my dog.

Meet and Greet

2010-04-17T07:19:00.000-07:00

The 3 hour furgon ride to Elbasan is routine by now. I know enough to sneak up on the furgon stand, find one that has at least a few passengers inside, and make sure I know they are about ready to leave before I get on. Otherwise we could sit for an hour or more waiting to fill up the van. Also, one should get the price set before getting on, although I haven’t been too taken when I forget to do this, no more than about 50 cents more than the usual price. I don’t begrudge the drivers that. Driving a furgon is a hard way to make a living.

The road over the mountain between Lake Ohrid and the Shkumbin River valley is being straightened and widened. It is a mess now, but will be great when they finish. The trip between Korca and Pogradec used to take an hour and a half and now is only 45 minutes. They celebrated the opening of that section of the road with a bicycle road race last summer. The road over the mountain might take another half hour off the trip. I don’t know when they plan to finish the work. Not that it matters, since some road projects that are ongoing have signs posting completion dates four or five years back. One of the satirical TV shows has great fun showing big ribbon cutting ceremonies, signs with pictures of modern highways, “Soon to be Completed!”, and footage of large potholes and detours as construction drags on for years barely keeping up with deterioration. The first autostrada (a four lane, divided highway to European standards) opened between Durres and Kukes was opened to great fanfare last year. They were way over budget and only opened 2 of the four lanes for most of it, but it cut the 8 hour trip to 2 hours. It was incredible. People made special trips just to drive the road. Then one of the main tunnels collapsed. They hope to reopen it soon. It must have been engineered by the same group that did the Big Dig project in Boston.

I gave two classes to the 15 volunteers in the health education section. The sessions went ok. I hope the information I gave was useful. No one fell asleep, even though it was just after lunch. This was likely more a tribute to their politeness and attentiveness than to my riveting presentation. I talked mainly about how my volunteer activities developed over time and how I approached things. I tried to emphasize that they have to work it out for themselves, be positive, flexible, patient and creative. I also got to hear another health education volunteer about her activities in Berat, another historic and scenic small city in southern Albania. She is a dynamo and I was very impressed. I am inert by comparison.

The total in Group 13, the new group, is 50; two-thirds larger than my cohort. On Saturday, many of the volunteers from Groups 11 and 12 joined them for the “Meet and Greet” session, first at the Peace Corps training room and then at the park. The new group was fresh faced and enthusiastic, and young! There is one volunteer in the group from Georgia in her 60’s, but I didn’t see her there. There was a couple in their 40’s and the rest were the usual Peace Corps age, newly out of college, in their early 20’s. In Group 12 there are four of us over 50 years old. Meeting the new group made me feel even older than I usually do.

I unrolled my sleeping bag on the couch of a volunteer from Group 12 who is sited in Elbasan. There were 7 of us in her house for the weekend. It saved money for the Peace Corps which is trying to do the pre service training for the new group on the same budget it had for previous groups. The others talked long into the night. I remember doing that when I was their age, but I don’t fit into such conversations and, anyway, I wanted to get to sleep so that I could get up at dawn, head to Thane, visit my host family there and get back for the afternoon activities in town.

The Salufi family is doing well. The grandmother is now fully recovered from her surgical complications and seems quite well. They have 5 cows now, and the mother is traveling to Elbasan every other day to sell her dairy products at the bazaar. She makes a lot more doing this than selling her milk to the dairy van that picks up from the villages every morning. It keeps her very busy. The father continues to do construction work in the area. The older boy, Aldi, is in a Turkish college in Cerrik, a larger town that is about a mile down the road from Thane. He is learning English, Turkish and Arabic, computers and trigonometry. His English is now pretty functional and it was a treat to converse with him. The younger boy, Diku, goes to the same school on Saturdays and will go full time next year. It is a private school and a big expense for the family, but seems to provide a good education. The family wants the best it can provide for their children. The school in Cerrik seems like an Islamic version of Preka, which, of course, is sponsored by a Catholic society. I don’t know about corruption issues, but they don’t allow slackers in this family. The girl cousins are also doing well. Their parents are back from working in Greece. Their mom is helping with the cows. Both families are hosting volunteers in the new group and are very happy with the volunteers that were placed with them.

One of the reasons I came in the morning was to try to avoid a huge dinner, so, of course, they put on a huge lunch. I felt badly that I had to leave abruptly to get back to Elbasan. I was given large jars of pickled peppers and fig jam to carry home, but unfortunately the glass fig jam jar rolled on onto the floor of the furgon and exploded. The other passengers were not upset and helpfully gave me Kleenex and barf bags to clean up the mess. Luckily most of it was over me.

I washed up at the office and walked over to the meeting room across the street. The volunteers were divided among eight tables it was run like a speed dating session. Every few minutes the prior volunteers would rotate to the next table of new volunteers. There was barely time for introductions. I apologized to each group for not hosting anyone in Korca during the volunteer visit over Easter. By the time we got to the park, it was running a bit late if I wanted to catch a furgon back to Korca. I said hi briefly then headed across the street where some of the furgons leaving Elbasan for Korca ran. Luckily, after about 15 minutes one came along and I was on my way home.

I had promised Isuf and Maca that I would go to the ski area the next day and help with the clean up now that the season has ended. There was a fair amount to do, but the weather was not great. It alternated between hail, rain, snow and occasional sun. We cleaned up the inside of the day lodge but didn’t bring the rope tows inside as they were wet and muddy. We did clear a large area of ground with pick and shovel for a garden by the door of the equipment room we had built last summer. I expressed doubts about how well it would do at that altitude and with a northeast exposure, but Isuf assured me it would be great.

The following week was busy. I had a day of make-up classes in addition to my regular schedule at Preka. I have started co-teaching a couple of classes at the public nursing school. The classes are huge and crowded and in shqip. Sometimes I get flustered and my already limited language ability disappears entirely. Sometimes I am not exactly sure what I am saying which is not the best situation for instruction. After my class with Isuf, he insists we go out to eat kernacka (a local delicacy about halfway between a meatball and a sausage) at a nearby beer garden. With the warming spring weather we can often sit outside, which is pleasant, and I can slip some of my over generous portion to cats or dogs that hang around the tables. After that class I have English tutorials with two students at their homes. Their families routinely try to feed me as well. I have found I can mitigate this a bit by protesting that I have to save room for the obligate feeding at my next stop. No matter what I say I have learned I don’t have to plan meals for that day and most of the next.

Thursday afternoon as I was walking to the aviation club at the library, there was automatic weapons fire on the street. The police quickly closed off the area to traffic, but pedestrians seemed more curious than afraid. When I passed by, there were two cars with the left front tires flat, perhaps shot out, shell casings on the pavement, and the driver’s door of the front car open with a police motorcycle parked beside it. I didn’t see any signs of bloodshed. The cars had Italian license plates and it was assumed by my friends that it was related to organized crime. I am not sure if they have apprehended the shooters.

On Friday, I got a text message from one of the new volunteers that he was coming to Korca as his service site. I suspect that he is in community development rather than teaching English as a foreign language, although this is difficult to judge from the grammar of a text message. His is one of the young, enthusiastic “newbies”, but I can’t put a face with his name from the meeting last weekend. I look forward to introducing him to my city.

Gazuar Pashken

2010-04-07T13:28:00.000-07:00

Another spring festival? This seems a bit much even by Albanian standards. Winter wasn’t that bad. At this rate it will be autumn by the time we finish celebrating spring.

Still, Easter is the big holiday in the Orthodox Church to which most Korcars belong. In fact, the week between Palm Sunday and Easter is called “Big Week”. On Good Friday (called “Black Friday” here) five other volunteers from Saranda, Permet and Bilisht converged on my small apartment to view all the traditional events. It was a bit crowded, but everyone was very considerate about picking up, not hogging the bathroom, pitching in on kitchen duties and not violating personal space. These Peace Corps kids were well raised.

I felt a bit guilty because the Peace Corps office had scheduled the volunteer visit for Easter weekend. I had offered to host up to three of the 50 new arrivals, but I had also told them that I would not be available on Easter weekend and that others from my group had planned to come to Korca. In their wisdom, they did not move the date. All my friends in Korca said the ceremonies around Easter were especially beautiful here and not to be missed. On almost any other weekend I would have happily helped out. They were given plenty of notice and decided the program could do without hosts in four southern sites. Even a volunteer has to say "no" at times.

My company arrived around noon on Friday, so the first order of business was lunch in the garden at the Birra Korca plant across the street from my apartment. My guests all ordered the dark beer which is hard to find outside of Korca, although I have been told that Birra Korca will begin to be exported to the U.S. next year (be sure to ask for it). I had the bacon wrapped chicken shish kebob. The beer is about 80 cents a half liter and the chicken about a dollar a skewer. Order a salad and some French fries and lunch might set you back a couple of bucks. The trees are beginning to leaf and there was Korcan music playing over the loud speakers (being Albania, the operative word is “loud”).

After lunch we walked through the cobble stone back streets of old Korca to the bazaar. We bought some fruits, vegetables and a roast for our Easter dinner. I wasn’t sure if the market would be open on Saturday or Sunday, but, of course, it was. I have never seen a day when it was completely closed, so I should have guessed. After that we went to the traditional pottery market in the square in front of the Cathedral. I have seen a large photograph of the market from Ottoman times. The quality of the wares seems to have deteriorated substantially in the past few hundred years. You can buy a gold painted bust of Skanderbeg or, if you prefer, a set of the seven dwarfs. I saw very few items that were made in Albania, which, if I were Shqiptar would have been reassuring. After that we hit the Moscow coffee bar which serves a thickened hot chocolate with hazel nuts that I particularly like.

We had a light dinner of salad and macaroni and then joined the pilgrimage of the faithful who walk between three major churches of Korca. These include the Cathedral, St. Mary’s (a small church in a park near the town center) and at third of your choice, usually one of the churches on the road up the mountain that leads to the cross.

On Saturday morning we walked up the road from my apartment to the village of Mborja where there is a small 14th century church with murals that are both gorgeous and fascinating in their contrast to the 17th and 18th century iconographic styles for which the Korca region is famous. We met two other Americans on the road, a consular staff officer on assignment in Albania and her photographer husband. They are in their third and final year here, and in June are headed to southern India for their next posting. They joined us as we walked up the mountain stream to a water fall that cascades over the ruins of a bridge that looks like it is of Roman design. Then we hiked on trails across the face of the mountain. The hardier ones went up to the cross on top. We stopped at St. Theodor’s church to ring the bell and view its Kristos Pantacreator and St. Michael icons which are among my favorite in Korca. Then we walked down the hill and through the old part of town to an unnamed restaurant that, I think, has the best roasted chicken in Albania. They get their chicken fresh from Pule Bobostica, a product of a relatively large enterprise in a village outside of Korca that is known for high quality, organic chickens. They are beginning to market their product in other parts of Albania which should be quite successful. Maybe someday they will be able to ship to the European Union as well. For dessert we hit the Djana Pasticeri, a local bakery (actually a local chain of bakeries based in Mborja), that also serves up gelato when the weather is warm enough, which only began in the past couple of days. Three scoops are about 50 cents. I had fig, melon and hazelnut. Another reason to celebrate spring.

We went home to rest awhile. Shortly before midnight we headed downtown for the main Easter ceremony in front of the Cathedral. We met up with our new embassy friends and, as we were early, went to another coffee shop, this one with a balcony that overlooked the square. When they found out we were Americans they insisted we take the table on the balcony with the best view (I can’t imagine that happening anywhere else but Albania).

At midnight the Cathedral bells began tolling and the crowd surged out of the church onto the darkened square. Then the metropolitan (the head Orthodox priest) and his assistants came out in their red and gold vestments, announced the risen Christ, blessed those assembled, and passed the flame from their candles. This was passed in turn through the crowd until everyone carried at least one candle. We had purchased candles from vendors in the square and joined in. Then fireworks were set off, including roman candles held in the hands of ten year olds (this is Albania, after all), and the multitude walked slowly home in the cool, clear, and calm night, being very careful not to let their candle flame go out.

Easter Sunday was warm and sunny. We got our pot roast started before we headed outside. We saw several of my friends and wished one another “Gazuar Pashken” (happy Easter), even those I know are Muslim-everyone likes a good festival in Albania. They gave us red dyed eggs which are a tradition in Albania. We bumped these end to end, analogous to pulling on a wishbone; cracked egg shell loses. A few of my guests were pretty competitive. I thought this was a bit out of the Easter spirit. The fact that I was eliminated early in the first round was merely a coincidence.

Early Monday, my Peace Corps cohorts headed back to their cities. Monday was not a holiday, so I went to work. The former head of the Directorate of Public Health came in to work on his project. He is now pursuing a specialty certificate in oncology (doctors in Albania typically practice for a few years before applying for additional training in a specialty, almost always in Tirana). He is especially interested in breast cancer. We have been visiting groups of women with the nurse educators to talk about breast cancer. He has administered a survey which I am helping him compile. Unfortunately he did not standardize or test the form before beginning the study which makes it a challenge to enter the data on the computer for analysis and questions the validity of the data in any event. I have tried to tactfully discuss issues of survey technique for future reference. I keep reminding myself that I am here to be helpful and I absolutely don’t want to dampen his enthusiasm. Excel will generate some nice looking graphics, so I think he will be happy.

He also wants to write a grant to support mammography and ultrasound examinations for women in the region. Presently the nearest facilities are in Tirana which is not at all accessible for most local woman, even assuming they could afford it. I have asked knowledgeable friends from back home to help me compile the equipment list. When we have gone to the internet to price some of the items it is sad to see how daunted he is by even the cost of used machines. I remember talking with salespeople about some technologies in the U.S. which seemed a bargain at $20,000. Used ultrasound machines are $5000 to $10,000 which seems astronomical to Albanians ($10,000 is more than a million Lek). Even simple, portable mammography equipment is hundreds of thousands of dollars. I don’t know what grants are available. My investigations so far have not been fruitful. I have read that diagnostic ultrasound imaging is undergoing a technological revolution similar to the laptop computer. It may soon be carried around by doctors as routinely as the stethoscope. Maybe such high tech devices will become as ubiquitous in third world countries as cell phones and the internet. Perhaps they should include video poker in the software to hasten this.

Kindergarten Flight Instructor

2010-03-24T05:48:00.000-07:00

Picture an old geezer from Idaho with 50 Albanian six year olds jumping up and down, flapping their arms. This was followed by a lively discussion about why birds can fly and people can’t. Then we took turns demonstrating the Bernoulli principle by blowing across the top of a curved piece of paper. Then a melee of tossing paper airplanes as they flight tested about a dozen different plane and helicopter designs. We ended the lesson with spirited singing of “Old McDonald Had a Farm” (I suppose I could have kept up the aviation theme by singing “Old McDonald Bought the Farm”- but that might have been a bit too advanced). Witness the Peace Corps in action.

I was invited by the librarian at the American Library to speak about airplanes to her son’s kindergarten class. This was in shqip so my audience and I shared about the same language level. It was a lot more fun than some of my recent high school life skills classes. Lately some of the kids have flaked off and were not ready to present, despite the fact that they have had months to prepare their topic and the schedule has long been posted on the board outside the classrooms.

“Teacher, we are not ready and want to go later. What should we do?”

“I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

“We want to present on another day?”

“OK, what day do you want? Look at the schedule.”

“Teacher, there are no more days open.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Teacher, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. It is your responsibility to present your topic. Remember, the majority of you grade is based on your presentation.”

I know it is perplexing for them, but responsibility is an important life skill. It is better to be introduced to this in class than on the job, later in life, when it can cost you a real opportunity in life by loss of a job or putting you first on the layoff list. Of course, if they have the job by virtue of family or other connections, the lesson is probably irrelevant. Albania is changing, however, so who knows? Anyway, I am old, I am retired, I am a volunteer, I am only here for a couple of years. It is not really my problem.

“Let me know what you decide to do?”

I had a couple of visitors this past weekend. One was a Group 11 volunteer from Peshkopi and the other, her friend, a recent Harvard graduate on a study grant in Tirana to learn about landscape change in Albania (his monthly stipend is substantially more than the Peace Corps, which makes me feel better about the worth of some of my activities). They are very nice kids. They wanted to ski at Bigell. They had a grand time with Maca, Isuf, Kristof, Fredi and Comisari who, of course, treated them like family. It is so hard to be an American in Albania. It was a glorious spring day. If you want to see their photos and a video clip check out www.flickr.com/photos/garrettnelson

On Monday, which was the holiday, “Sultan Nevruz”, we walked to the cross on the mountain behind Korca. It was my first morning constitutional since the cold, bad weather and darkness called a halt to this activity in November. There were many walkers out and I was warmly greeted by the regulars as we recognized each other. It was a bit hazy in the valley, but sunny and temperate. I even had to take my coat off. The view of the snow covered mountains around the valley was spectacular.

In the afternoon, my guests departed and I had dinner with a neighbor family who had invited me for the traditional feast. This is a Bektashi holiday which celebrates both spring and New Year’s Day (“nevruz” means “new year”). We have now had three different holidays to celebrate spring. Given the damp, cold and dark of the winter, this seems appropriate.

The meal was great. It consisted of short ribs of beef, salad, fried potatoes, yoghurt, olives, hard boiled eggs, dark bread, spice cake with syrup for dessert, and Turkish coffee. Since I don’t drink alcohol, I had fruit juice with the kids instead of the offered wine with the adults. This was served as we sat around the table in their small, one-room combination kitchen, living room, bedroom. It was prepared on their wood stove, which also is the only source of heat in their home. They cook all their meals on it except in the summer when they use a wood grill outside their front door. The mother is a fabulous cook, by the way. I have strongly advised their daughter, who is one of my best students, to forget what I am teaching and learn from her mother. Interestingly, although not at all unusual for Albanian cities, their modest home does have both a television and internet access.

Last week, I was in Tirana for another meeting at the Ministry of Health. I went at the request of the PC country director of health volunteers. She thought that with my experience I might be useful helping with some of the national programs based in Tirana. I talked briefly with one of the higher ups in the ministry. His large office was up several flights of stairs in a modern building. It was nicely appointed with an exquisite, dark, solid wood desk, a leather couch and a big screen TV. He was cordial, but did not seem at all interested in anything I might have to offer. He encouraged me to keep up my activities in the region around Korca. This is fine with me. I doubt if I could ever get him to flap his arms.

Dita e Veres

2010-03-03T05:35:00.000-08:00

March first was “Dita e Veres” or “Summer’s Day”. This is celebrated by Orthodox in Albania as the first day of spring. Bonfires are lit. People eat “kulace” (special sweet bread with raisins) and generally have a good time. This should not be confused with “Dita e Veres” which is celebrated by the Muslims on the fourteenth of March. This also involves a special treat, “ballokume” (a cookie made with corn meal). Apparently, this year, only the fourteenth is recognized by the government of Albania as the official “Dita e Veres”. This seems to have ticked off some of my Orthodox friends who passed around pieces of kulace in a conspiratorial manner. No doubt I will get ballokume from my Muslim friends next week. I will have to eat several of each to fairly judge the battle of the bakeries. I asked my Catholic friends if they wanted to enter the competition, but they only replied something about daffodils and the vernal equinox.

I don’t really understand why the first day of spring is called summer’s day. I will add that to my list of cultural confusions. The sun did come out and the temperature neared 60 for a day. My laundry finally dried and I aired out my long johns in the warm breeze. The next day clouds blew back in, it started to rain again and the temperature dropped 20 degrees. It will be interesting to see what the weather does in two weeks.

Speaking of cultural confusion, the Peace Corps, Albania, office in Tirana asked me to write an introduction to Albanian culture for the new group of volunteers. I am not sure why they picked me as I can think of many in my group who would surely do it better. However, I figure that saying no when asked to do something is not really in the spirit of being a volunteer.

I wrote a long treatise on Albanian history and how it affected Albanian culture. Maybe my age leads me to take the long view. If any of my friends have a burning interest in the topic, let me know and I’ll pass it along.

In addition to Summer’s Day, early March has International Women’s Day on the 8th. This is celebrated as Mother’s Day in much of the world, including Albania. The traditional gift is a sprig of yellow flowers and green leaves from the mimosa tree. I think they are a bit allergenic, since several volunteers, including me, have noticed a flare in hay fever symptoms.

March 8th this year, by coincidence, is also the centennial of the issuance of the first pilot’s certificate to a woman. In France in 1910, Raymonde de Laroche was taught to fly by Voisin and became only the 36th licensed pilot in the world. Pilots in the US are being asked to give rides to young girls who are interested in flying as an appropriate way to commemorate this event. I only wish I had a plane here so I could participate. I am forbidden by Peace Corps regulations to operate a motorized vehicle within the country of service. However, according to Webster, vehicles are only found on land and in space. Aircraft are not vehicles. I could argue that I don't need special permission, but it is a moot point, in any event, since I don’t have access to an airplane, I would have to clear the trash, cows and sheep off the airstrip outside of Korca, and I am now more than a year since my last flight as PIC, so I am not current.

I am limited, like the others in the Aviation Interest Club of Korca, to making balsa wood and paper airplanes to fly in the large lobby of the library and playing with Flight Simulator on the computer. The girls in the group made a poster for the centennial of the woman pilot and put it up on the wall outside the American Library. The sign is in shqip and maybe it will bring in some additional members. As far as I have been able to find out, there has never been an Albanian woman pilot. One of the girls in the group is eager to be the first. Maybe she will. It seems only right, since the name of the country (Shqiperia), the language (Shqip) and the people (Shqiptare) derive from the word for eagle (shqiponje). Albanians are the “people of the eagle”, so should be good pilots.

I am looking forward to the arrival of the new group of volunteers. It will mark my first year in Albania and seems a milestone. A year in Albania sounds like a sentence, yet it has not been. I feel like I have been of some use and there are still things in development. That I am not entirely sure what will happen or exactly what I will do over the next 15 months actually makes things more interesting. I have been asked by the program staff to give a couple of classes in Elbasan during pre-service training. This is more likely because it is pretty easy and inexpensive for me to get to Elbasan than for any other reason. I wish the new volunteers good luck.

Balkan Winter

2010-02-21T07:59:00.000-08:00

It was a bit of a shock getting back into the winter routine after nine days on the equator. Day after day of grey sky, cold, rain, snow, or sleet, with only the occasional peek at the sun and blue sky. I just about live in my expedition weight long underwear. It takes forever for clothes to dry and I am not about to go without them for as long as it would take to get them back into service after washing. I will probably personally add to the olfactory experience on a furgon by spring. I have also come to greatly appreciate my down sleeping bag that I bought in Gart’s basement in Denver more than 40 years ago for about $30. My dark green Eddie Bower Gore-Tex coat that I got as a very considerate present about 25 years ago is also serving me well.

Strong winter winds blow through the Korca valley. They suck the plastic sheeting out of the masking tape. Keeping the windows insulated is a continuing task. Ilky camps out by my door almost every night and tries to sneak in as I leave or enter. He still gets treats but no admittance. My electric heater is pitiably ineffective and, to make it worse, the electricity always seems to go out during the strongest, coldest storms. The gas heater is better, but I am not sure if it is really approved for inside use and I wonder about carbon monoxide exposure. I can always look on the bright side. Maybe my approaching senile dementia will be covered by workers comp.

Yesterday I went with the guys to Bigell. It was a relatively warm day, and it was raining hard even at altitude. The road was muddy. In spots, the old van just barely made it through. We set up for business and about 40 hardy Korcans showed up for recreation. Most hung out around the wood stove in the day lodge, smoking, drinking and eating. Except for the smoking part, it was a lot like a rainy day at Brundage or Bogus Basin. I have to admit, though, that the conversation I had with one man about the 20 years his father spent in prison for opposing the communist regime is not one I would have had in Idaho. A few hardy souls donned the ski suits (provided with the rental and lift in the all inclusive price) and did a few runs until they were completely soaked and came back in to dry out before hitting the slopes again. My Gore-Tex and fleece outfit let me stay out a bit longer, but eventually I was also soaked and had to go in. Just a couple of kids kept skiing until about 5 pm. They have a switch by the window in the lodge and when there are few skiers, the rope line is turned on only when a skier arrives for a tow.

Sunday morning was much colder and it was snowing hard in town. Titi, my neighbor and the father of one of the kids I tutor in English, invited me to go to the first soccer game of the New Year. We met up after lunch and walked briskly across town to the stadium. Titi, of course, insisted on treating. The scrum at the ticket booth was particularly vigorous and even if Titi had accepted my offer to treat I doubt that I could have purchased the tickets without serious injury. Titi is a veteran, however, and I was impressed with how, with hardly a scratch, he skillfully worked his way to the front of the gaggle, shoved his lek in the face of the attendant, and quickly returned with the tickets. We got into the next gaggle that led to the entrance gate where police took our tickets. A couple of kids asked if they could come in with us, since they are admitted free with a paying adult.

The field was a swamp and the players warming up splashed as they ran and were covered with mud. There was a pretty good crowd of a few thousand standing with umbrellas in the stone bleachers. It looked like a snow globe with the Alpine village diorama replaced by a soccer field. A few minutes after the game was supposed to start the teams went into the locker rooms, but, as the weather worsened, they did not come out again. After about half an hour the line judges came out to announce that the game had been cancelled. The crowd hurled invective and plastic water bottles at them. They all felt that the opposition team, from Elbasan in the lowlands, were a bunch of weenies and if they had played against another mountain city, like Bilisht, it would have gone on despite the weather. Of course, the language they used was a lot more colorful. There’s lots of opportunity to expand your shqip vocabulary at soccer games.

There are no rain-checks or refunds given at soccer games here. There is supposed to be a free make-up game tomorrow, but Monday is a working day and I doubt if I can attend. From the attitude of the fans, it seems, despite the large rate of unemployment, many others will be unable to make it.

As we walked home, the sun came out briefly, but then the snow started again. We stopped for coffee and Titi, after prolonged insistence and protest, even let me buy. This was a tremendous indication of acceptance and friendship. It felt like a major triumph. I can’t say when I enjoyed a coffee more.

In three weeks the next group of Peace Corps volunteers will arrive and begin their pre-service training in Elbasan. I have been told that 52 have accepted the invitation to serve in Albania. This is a big increase from the 33 initially in my group. I have been asked to do some of the sessions and also to host a couple of them for the volunteer visit in early April. I hope that it doesn’t conflict with Easter weekend since I will have a crowd here. That is a big holiday in Korca. There is a midnight, candlelight march from the cathedral that is supposed to be especially beautiful. This year Easter coincides on April 4 for Orthodox, Catholic and Protestant traditions (last year they were a week apart, which is more often the case). Perhaps that will cause it to be an even bigger event. I am looking forward to seeing it.

April is also when spring reliably comes to Albania. I am looking very much forward to that, as well.

First World on Steroids

2010-02-09T03:22:00.000-08:00

I planned a vacation from the ice covered cobblestones of Korca for a 9 day visit with my niece and her husband in Singapore. He is working there for two years on a temporary assignment from New York City and she is teaching at an international school. I thought it would be nice to spend some time with them and the fact that Singapore is on the equator with average temperatures in the mid-80’s would provide a pleasant mid-winter opportunity for me to thaw out. There was a week at the end of January when my students would be having exams and classes would be cancelled, so I called the Peace Corps office to tell them of my plans. There was a mandatory in-service training conference planned in mid-January so I booked my flight.

As January approached, the dates for the conference moved later in the month and, when finalized, overlapped with my departure date. I was told my leave would not be approved. At first, I was pretty angry. I am a volunteer, after all. However after some consideration, I went to the Turkish Airline office in Tirana and paid the fee to change the ticket. I wasn’t happy about that either, but, I figure if I divide the cost over my term of service it is less than 10 cents a day.

The meeting in Durres, the Adriatic port city for Tirana, was actually pretty good. It was held in a hotel that used to be a children’s recreation center under the communists. It has beautiful grounds and the food was good. It’s always good to get together with my cohort and hear about their activities. I got some good ideas for classes, projects and potential funding sources.

I took a bus to Tirana and then another to the airport. I arrived with plenty of time, actually more than plenty of time as my departure was delayed about 6 hours. I was facing a long wait at the airport in Istanbul, but as it worked out I just made my connection for the long flight across South Asia.

Singapore is impressive. Most American cities look underdeveloped by comparison. It is a crowded, Southeast Asian city, but is clean and safe with well maintained infrastructure, and, despite its exotic multicultural population, almost everyone speaks fluent English. I ate Indian food off of banana leaves, Chinese noodle dishes, Indonesian, Thai, Malay, and, even American specialties. Nice break from the healthy, but relatively bland Albanian diet (I still can’t taste the difference between lakror and byrek- but, then, I still can’t hear the subtle difference in the pronunciation of the “u” sound of an Albanian “y” and the “u” sound of an Albanian “u”, although my efforts at producing what sounds identical to me continue to confuse my Albanian listeners).

I walked along the river walk and crossed the pedestrian foot bridge to the Asian Cultural Museum. It was fascinating, and the West Asian section had special relevance for the Muslim heritage of Albania. They use computers to effectively augment the experience. I especially enjoyed the “virtual guides” that “waited” on monitors around the museum. You were even able to ask them questions about themselves. I took the bus to the Botanical Garden which is immaculate. There are even specialty gardens within the large park for orchids, rain forest, evolution and more. I then walked down the trendy Orchard Street shopping district to the international school where my niece works and got a chance to read with some of her 3rd grade students. There are almost as many languages as students in her class.

Just strolling through the various neighborhoods of Singapore is fascinating; Little India, Chinatown, Downtown, Arab Street, etc. Old churches, mosques, old Hindu, Chinese and even Jewish temples, and colonial buildings contrast with the hundreds of high rise office and apartment buildings that locals call the “concrete forest”. Singapore has more shopping malls and restaurants than any city I have visited. Escalators and stairs go over and under streets connecting one to another. You can almost walk across the island city without leaving a mall.

My hosts have a large circle of ex-pat friends. We met a couple from England and Canada to go bicycling in East Coast Park that fronts the waterway between Singapore and Indonesia. It was filled with bicycles, skate boards, roller blades, and pedestrians. Picnickers sat on the grass or barbecued and ate in gazebos. There are lots of restaurants along the strand (you can buy a “Megaprosperity Burger” at the McDonalds to help celebrate the Chinese New Year). A large pond with an overhead tow ring pulled wake boarders rapidly through the water. There were hundreds of cargo ships among which a few sail boats tacked in the breeze, under blue skies and cottony puffs of cloud, in the Straits of Malacca.

I had the opportunity to visit Singapore General Hospital and talk with a few of its doctors. It is more than a thousand-bed, modern, multispecialty hospital that provides everything from heart-lung transplants to traditional Chinese herbal medicine and acupuncture. All Singaporeans all covered for health care for about a fifth of the cost as a percentage of the economy compared to the US (which, of course, still leaves 40 million uninsured). Maybe Singapore would consider sending health educators to America.

A few of my Albanian friends had asked me to buy things for them in Singapore. I went shopping (not my favorite activity) but was lost among the malls and the prices were not as good as we anticipated. The cell phones and cameras they wanted are actually less expensive in Tirana than Singapore. I was especially reluctant to buy cell phones since, if the connections don’t work, there is no way to return them.

My last day there was a special treat. The Singapore Air Show, the largest in Asia, was open to the public. There were aerobatics and static displays. There were lots of military and large civilian aircraft, but only a few small planes. The Singapore Youth Flying Club, which is for high school students and is subsidized by the government, had their Piper Warrior on display. There were several members in their sharp, navy blue jump suits standing around it. I talked with them about their training and activities. I wish the kids at the Aviation Interest Club of Korca could have been there.

The ex-pats told me that the reason Singapore is so safe and clean is that it is essentially governed by benevolent, conservative, one party rule. Sounds a bit like Idaho. They cane violators for minor infringements of the law. That is something I am sure would appeal to many of my friends back home.

The late night flight back to Albania also went through Istanbul. Turkish Airline offers free city tours for passengers with long layovers, but delays, weather and lines conspired against that again. I spent a night in Tirana so that I could meet with Peace Corps staff, some people at the Ministry of Health and also with Frederiko Tashko, head of the National Aero Club of Albania. I really enjoyed talking with him and will tell more of his story in a future post.

I finished my meetings earlier than I expected and was able to catch an afternoon furgon back to Korca. I chose a newer one with good tires since I had heard the road over the pass to Lake Ohrid was worse than usual with snow and mud. The trip was long, but uneventful. I am getting accustomed to it and, jet lagged, I slept most of the way home.

Ski Albania

2010-01-25T05:05:00.000-08:00

Winter can be hard in Albania. A few inches of snow and ice in Korca makes the roads treacherous and one has to be careful not to slip and fall on the icy sidewalks. In villages in the mountains around Korca, deep snow can make roads, which are not great under the best of circumstances, impassible. I may complain about the lack of heat in my apartment, but people in villages may have not electricity and live in houses that are literally crumbling. Emigration to Tirana and abroad has depopulated many villages leaving the few old people left amid the ruins to fend for themselves. My counterparts at the NGO that provides home services to disabled people around Korca talk of making long treks through the snow to visit patients in villages like this only to find that the cold has taken its toll.

I left early one Saturday morning with Isufi, Maca, Kristof, Fredi and Comisari in Maca’s ancient Mercedes diesel van for Bigell, their homemade ski area, near the village of Dardhe. We were loaded with supplies; food, beer, wine and gasoline. I was surprised and pleased to find the road up the mountain was both plowed and sanded. Other than the coughing and sputtering of the diesel engine the trip was uneventful.

We ascended out of the fog that lay in the Korca valley into the clear mountain air, amid pine trees encrusted with snow and ice, under a cloudless, deep blue sky. Maca carefully parked the van on the side of the road, pointing down the hill, anticipating a cold start after everyone else went home. We unlocked the gate and ported the supplies up to the day lodge.

It looked good. The black double eagle on a red background that is the Albanian flag flew proudly above the entrance. The lodge was set up as a lokal with several tables and chairs in front of the bar. There were two wood stoves among the tables and a large fireplace in the corner. The kitchen we had built in the summer had two grills, a fryer and a sink, as well as another wood stove. There were large stereo speakers inside and out and a big mixer board behind the bar. Assorted ski boots were on the floor under the windows and skis and poles and sleds and a few other items were stacked in an annex, also built during the summer. There was yet another small wood stove in there.

We unpacked and set up. The water from the spring up the mountain was only a trickle, so Isufi and I set off through the snow drifts to the source to clear the ice from the opening to the pipe leading to the lodge. As we got back to the lodge customers were arriving.

I helped fit people with boots and Maca adjusted the skis. Fredi passed out skis and poles. Kristof ran the bar and Isufi the kitchen. Comisari kept the fires stoked. One lady was so fussy with the fit of her boots that I thought I was selling her a pair of shoes. She looked down at me. “Jeni ju shqiptar? (Are you Albanian)”, she asked. She had to be kidding. Most people can spot an American from a kilometer (about ½ mile) away.

It costs only 300 lek (about $3) to ski for an hour. This includes rental of skis, boots and poles and, if needed, a snow suit. They don’t keep close track of your time, but an hour or two on the two hills of the area will more than let you explore the terrain. In any event, I wouldn’t recommend being too adventurous since the skis and bindings are not the newest or best maintained. Even so, after the first group was set up, I got myself skis, boots and poles and set to see if skiing in Albania was up to the standards of an old, Idaho skier who has had season passes for so long he can’t remember what they charge for a day pass on Brundage Mountain. It turned out to be really enjoyable, and certainly not something I expected to be doing in the Peace Corps. Maybe they should add it to their recruitment materials.

The rope went up a pretty steep incline and was a good upper body work out. I was pretty careful as I didn’t trust my gear and, like in much of Albania, no one is looking out for you. You are responsible for your own safety- whether walking on a sidewalk that may suddenly open to an unmarked 3 foot deep pit or crossing an intersection with traffic coming at you from 6 directions. No ski patrol here. But that only makes it more of a challenge, like when back home I would make a day when conditions limited me to the lower, groomed slopes more interesting by telemarking in my old, cross country skis. Of course, the younger skiers were…well, young skiers. They went to the top, lined ‘em parallel and went for it. One teen flew past the people outside the lodge, through the gate, and across the road where the snow covered trees caught him, preventing him from going off the cliff. He smiled broadly as he clambered back to the rope tow to do it again. No one had to ask him if he was shqiptar.

After an hour or so of skiing, people headed to the lokal to warm up and drink and eat, this being Albania, after all. Prices were about the same as they would be at a lokal in Korca (in fact, prices never seem to vary all that much in Korca- something that always amazes me). Wine was about $1 a glass, raki (homemade brandy) only 50 cents, a huge plate of french fries about $1 and a plate of 12 meatballs or 8 hot dog size sausages with sliced onions and toasted rolls about $1.50. Salad and fruit and sodas were also available.

After eating, those who could still walk headed out for another round on the slopes. I went up with one of Maca’s kids who had come up later. She is a pretty good skier. It looks like she may have skied elsewhere because she has quite a few pins on her ski cap. There are more developed areas not far away in Macedonia and Greece.

Not everyone skied. Some used the sleds. One group of dental laboratory technicians from Turkey took a long canvas banner and used it as an improvised toboggan. Many sat around the stoves and chatted until long after sunset. Korcan serenades played on the stereo, although at times the young people would put on rap music, some of which is even in Albanian. Some English was spoken for my benefit, but I am sure there were Greek and Italian speakers as well. There was a retired German pharmacist who lives part time in Dardhe and had hiked on snow shoes from the village. I was surprised at how many Albanians had skied around Europe; in Innsbrook, Austria, or the Dolomites in northern Italy. Years ago, when I was in the Air Force, I skied there too, but I don’t remember having as much fun or such a novel experience as I did at Bigell.

This is obviously not a destination ski resort; although I think it would develop quite a bit if there were available public transit either by bus or by furgon. For now, one needs a private car or to hire a taxi. I suppose you could hitch a ride in Maca’s van. Still, a few days at a nice hotel or bed and breakfast in Korca, visits to the icon museum (with arguably the best collection in the world), the quirky Bratko museum or the interesting archeology museum, maybe attendance at a musical recital at the theater or cultural center, or the many disco bars around the university if that is more “your thing”, visits to interesting old churches in villages around Korca, sight-seeing at the nearby mountain lakes, shopping in the large bazaar, and sampling some of the great local restaurants could be combined with a couple of days skiing at Bigell to make for a pretty unique and reasonably priced vacation. You should consider this soon before the prices go up. I even know an old tour guide who, for at least the next year and a half, might be persuaded to show you around.

Preka

2010-01-11T04:33:00.000-08:00

The end of the Christmas season was marked by the traditional “cross toss” in front of the Cathedral in the center of the Korca. It was pouring rain, but a good crowd turned out to watch the priest throw the cross into the fountain and the young men scramble to get it out of the water. The winner gets to keep it for 40 days and it is supposed to bring good luck. It also brings a $50 prize, so I guess the good luck part is valid. Everyone crowded into the coffee shops around the square after the ceremony. Many will be heading out of the country and back to work abroad. I am looking forward to that as the internet and even the cell phone system have been overloaded and non-functional since before Christmas. I feel guilty even thinking about the inconvenience of this, since I do have indoor plumbing, a stove and refrigerator and, most importantly, a space heater. I am in the Peace Corps, after all. I could be living in a yurt in Mongolia.

The water and the cross are done to celebrate the baptism of Jesus, which the Orthodox Church celebrates on the 12th day of Christmas (Catholic tradition has it a week later and celebrates the Adoration of the Magi on the 12th day). Of course, Jesus was baptized as an adult by John the Baptist, but I would not want to argue the point. I shudder to think how they would commemorate the circumcision of the baby Jesus which Catholics and most traditions, I think, observe on the 8th day after Christmas as the “Celebration of the Holy Name”. Maybe that was part of the reason for the New Year’s fireworks. There certainly were plenty of opportunities to blow off different parts of your anatomy, although I didn’t hear of any injuries of that sort.

I have previously mentioned that one of my main volunteer activities is teaching Life Skills classes at a private, missionary high school in Korca. This is called “Kolegji Preka”, after St. George Preca, a native Maltese proclaimed a saint by the Vatican in 2007. It is run by a lay order from Malta, following the example of the saint in the education of young people, with schools and other projects in developing countries worldwide. They live communally but, although they do take a pledge of celibacy, they are not ordained monks. This is partly because St. George Preca preached that it was more important to be effective than to be qualified. I find this philosophy appealing.

The local people in Korca call Kolegji Preka the “Maltese School”. The school requires an entrance exam and is quite competitive. I helped with the exam and had to “take” it myself this summer because they had not received the answer key from Preca Central in Malta. It was not easy. Parents are quite happy to have their children at this school, but the kids should be proud too. They had to earn their way in.

My Life Skills class of 88 first year student is now down to 86 since 2 students emigrated with their families to the US after winning the visa “lottery”. Never one to do something conventionally when I can have fun playing around, I have organized the class a bit differently from the conventional Albanian style of lecturing in front of students and then having them regurgitate, preferably from memory. I divided each class into groups of 2 or 3 students. They then picked cards from a deck and got to choose from 15 presentation topics and dates, high card first for topic, low first for date. The topics are mostly from their text book, but they are encouraged to research their topic from the school library and the web. They are graded on their preparation, organization, presentation and evaluation questions. I emphasized to them that the “Life Skill” of working in small groups and doing presentations is something they will find very useful in their future in higher education or in corporate life.

I did several classes before we started with the presentations. This was both to kill time while we had to wait for the textbooks to arrive and to give them a demonstration of different strategies for presentations, including didactic, demonstration and participation. I encouraged them to narrow the topic area as much as they wanted and told them I would fill in during my sessions what they left out in theirs. I also told them that this was an opportunity to try out new styles to maybe better relate to their classmates. I feel the process is as important as the subject matter.

They have really stepped up to the plate. They have incorporated Power Point slides, shown on my computer as I walk around the class holding it, videos, and demonstrations into their lessons. The headmaster and other teachers have sat in on a few of the classes to watch. I even invited the health education nurses from the Directorate of Public Health. I think there is potential for the Preka students to present at grammar schools in Korca, both to educate and be examples for the younger students. I am very proud of them.

Albania is a young country. Although the birthrate has declined in recent years, it is still among the highest in Europe. Unlike in Italy or Germany, you can see lots of children with their families, downtown and in the parks. They go to school but afterwards their employment prospects are doubtful. Many will move to Tirana or go abroad for work. Despite professional degrees, they are likely to end up laboring for wages that may be meager in the countries of their employment, but fantastic by Albanian standards.

With that facing them, I am not surprised to hear from many of my Peace Corps cohort, with teaching assignments in high schools, about problems with inattentive and disruptive students. I am not so old that I don’t remember that when I was their age I took it for granted that I could be anything I wanted. The opportunities were unlimited. I still firmly believe that the US offers a person of ability, who is willing to work hard and take some risks, prospects that are unequaled in the world. I am sure that is why getting a visa to America is called “winning the lottery”. Yet Albania is a country that has lots of resources, a favorable climate, educated and hard working people, and a location at the crossroads of Europe, Africa and the Middle East. I see incredible potential and am surprised it is not a center of investment and development. I am enthusiastic about their future potential, but when I talk with people, particularly young people, they don’t see much here. No doubt I am ignorant of the effects of corruption and history and culture, but I also see this as a distinguishing character difference between Albanians and Americans. Maybe that is the best lesson I can impart to my students during my volunteer service.

Viti i Ri

2010-01-01T10:34:00.000-08:00

New Years. Nine months into the 27 months of a Peace Corps tour. Actually, 2010 will be the only full year I spend in Albania. That thought makes the term of service seem short. I have found in my past relocations that 2 years is the minimum amount of time one needs to feel at home in a new place. I suspect that is part of the reason for the time commitment required of volunteers.

I finally got one of the gas heaters in my apartment to work and I can sit comfortably in front of it and work at my computer. It then became unseasonably warm after a rainstorm moved through Korca on Christmas Day. My visitors and I fixed a large Christmas dinner. We had roast chicken, mashed potatoes, salad and pumpkin pie for dessert. The stove in my apartment made this a bit of a challenge. It has a number of unlabeled dials that I still have not figured out. The temperature in the oven varies quite a bit so that food in the rear is burnt while that in the front is uncooked. Only two of the four burners on top appear to work. Even so, the meal was great. I had 4 visitors for Christmas and have had 7 at different times during the week. For some of the younger volunteers this is their first time away from home. I wanted to make sure that none in my region felt abandoned so issued a general invite for those wanting to spend the holiday in Korca. We set up a small tree and scrounged some lights. We had some recorded seasonal music and we played Scrabble, Pictionary, Sorry, Monopoly and, of course, Furgon Driver.

When the weather allowed we walked around town and up the hill to the cross on top. We visited the museums and the art show at the cultural center. We had the thick, hot cocoa with hazelnuts that is served in some of the cafes. We had crepes from the vendors in the holiday market. We shopped in the bazaar which has spread along the streets surrounding the market area.

I went to work at the Directorate of Public Health a couple of days, but not much was going on and I left early. My school classes are on holiday break. At clinic, the patients had a holiday dinner. They invited my visitors and had a grand game of “Feed the Americans”. Some of my visitors are part of the Peace Corps group that transferred to Albania when they were evacuated from Georgia (the country, not the state) when Russia invaded. They said that Georgians are even more aggressive at feeding their guests than Albanians. This is hard to imagine. Reportedly, Georgians don’t just continuously refill your plate; they stack the plates in front of you and yell at you until you eat. I used to think that only Americans had trouble controlling portions at meals. I surreptitiously put a few pieces of meat in a napkin to bring home to Ilky.

Korca has been packed with visitors. I have heard the 25% of Albanians work out of the country and they must all come home for the holidays, if they can. Lots of cars have Greek license plates, possibly tourists, but more likely Albanians who live and work in Greece. The internet and cell phone systems, which don’t have a lot of excess capacity at the best of times (the companies sell the services aggressively whether or not they can fulfill the contracts), failed completely for a while and then worked only intermittently. At least the power and the water were reliable.

The warm weather put local skiing on hold. This is something I have experienced before in Idaho, although I saw from the National Weather Service that it has been cold and snowy back home. I am certain that Murphy’s Law will make the next two ski seasons at Brundage ones that will be talked of fondly for years. I almost wish I hadn’t been such a wimp about lightning, hail and darkness last week when I had the chance to ski, but I am sure I will get another chance.

On New Year’s eve we walked to the center of town. It was not what I expected. I had been told there were fireworks and, I guess, I visualized an American style production, where spectators watch professionals safely put on a show. After nine months in Albania, I should have known better. The center of the city was blocked off by the police and people lined the sidewalks. They impulsively threw firecrackers into the street. Some bounced off bystanders before exploding. Participants, mostly males, of all ages, held fireworks in their hands, waving them towards the center of the street (the instructions on the tubes advised fixing them in dirt and standing back 20 feet). Some also stood on the steps in front of the cathedral and launched firecrackers and rockets towards the statue in the center of the square. The temporary ice skating rink which was not being used by skaters was a favorite target for fire crackers. Fireworks were also launched from balconies on several levels above street level. This gave the effect of a running battle between the two sides of the street. No one dared to walk down the middle and even walking along the sidewalk led one under sparks from the balconies and the tubes waved by the revelers. This peaked at midnight while the bells of the cathedral tolled to mark the New Year, but went on for hours before and after. The volunteers were somewhat intimidated. We covered our ears to protect them from the cacophony and carefully picked our way out of the center to the boulevard that led back to my apartment.

It seemed warm and we only wore light jackets when we left but returning, the wind picked up and it turned cold. It rained intermittently as the clouds flew across the valley. Some of my visitors from nearby took furgons home. The walk downtown to see them off found most businesses closed and the bazaar practically empty. Korca was as quiet as I have ever seen it. I expect things will be back to normal when the last of my visitors take the bus home on Saturday. I look forward to going back to work on Monday and starting on my list of resolutions.

Gazuar Festat

2009-12-20T11:37:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-02T10:55:00.000-08:00

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.

Europe on 30,000 Lek a Day

2009-11-16T06:17:00.000-08:00

It is a 10 hour bus ride from Korca to Athens, that plus at least an hour at the border crossing. You have to get out of the bus in the cold and wind and stand beside your open luggage while the Greek customs officers inspect. My American passport gets me a warm welcome and my bag a cursory glance. The Albanians get a scowl and a thorough hand inspection. There are many confiscations. The Albanians shrug this off and get back on the bus. They all know this routine, yet no one asked me to help them get anything across.

As soon as you cross the border you notice things are different. While the vegetation is the same, the houses in the towns are in better repair, particularly the roofs which have few broken or missing tiles. There are few buildings standing partially constructed awaiting further funds to restart work. The roads are in good repair and there is much less roadside litter. The most striking thing, however, is the absence of the concrete bunkers which are scattered everywhere throughout Albania, particularly in border regions.

The first rest stop a couple of hours into the country reveals another glaring difference. Prices are in euros and not lek, the Albanian currency, and they are not cheap. Coffee costs 3 euros (about $4.50) not 50 lek (about 55 cents). Dinner at a moderately priced restaurant is 30-40 euros, while the best Albanian restaurant is only a fifth of that. A hotel room costs more for a night than I pay for my apartment for a month.

Yet Albanians wait in long, slow moving lines at the Greek consulate to obtain a visa and willingly endure the scorn of the border guards. This is because there is opportunity in Greece that is non-existent back home. One of my Peace Corps cohorts explained to me that her landlady in Albania could make 40 euros a day cleaning houses or hotel rooms in Athens compared with 5 euros a day in Albania, assuming she could find work. Her Albanian house is large and well furnished, but in Athens she lives in a room of a hotel under construction (presumably she had either contacts with or paid off the construction crew- maybe both) so she could save as much money as possible. My friend made the mistake of visiting her landlady while in Athens. This was a mistake because her landlady insisted on taking her out for dinner, and, being Albanian, also insisted on treating. I am beginning to think that one needs a signed note from a doctor to avoid being fed by Albanians, but I am not sure that would suffice.

A group of volunteers took part in the Athens marathon. This was on the course of the original marathon 2500 years ago when an Athenian soldier ran the 26 miles to announce the Greek victory in the Battle of Marathon. That soldier died from his effort. While none of the volunteers succumbed to that fate, most were hobbling the next day with blisters, bursitis, tendonitis and muscle ache. I provided some therapy and my usual sympathetic ear, and then went touring with some of those who were still able to walk.

It was brilliant sunshine and about 70 degrees. Athens is the San Diego of Europe, except instead of the historical culture being Spanish a few hundred years in the past, it is Greek and a few thousand years old. The photo with this post is of the Acropolis as seen from the Temple of Olympian Zeus. That temple was built by the Romans, who occupied Athens when the ancient city was as remote historically from them as the Crusades are from us. No doubt Roman teenagers complained about having to study Greek because it was so much “before their time”.

The museums in Athens are amazing. The New Acropolis Museum is particularly striking. It is built amid an excavation. Open areas and glass floors incorporate this into the design of the building. The display of art and architecture gives a real sense of the Acropolis and the Parthenon, in particular, and is a strong argument to the British to return the Elgin Marbles.

The walk to the top of the Acropolis was awe inspiring. There were lots of tourists, even in the off season. There were plenty of guards, too, to keep them on the approved paths and mind their behavior. It was such a contrast to Albania, where you wander on your own and knock on a door down the street to get keys to historic structures. I doubt if Athens was that unsupervised even in Roman times.

Athens is beautiful and clean and has all the modern amenities. Most signs are in English as well as Greek and it is easy to find your way around. Public transit is particularly impressive. An all day ticket is only 3 euros and covers buses, trams and a metro (subway) that is one of the best I have ever seen. Its construction required extensive archeological excavation, much of it displayed throughout the system making it seem more of a trip through a museum than a ride to a destination. We watched the changing of the guard, as they high stepped in their skirts and tasseled shoes (the traditional uniform from the Greek War of Independence from the Ottomans almost 200 years ago), at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, adjacent to the Parliament building. We walked through the National Gardens among flower blossoms and orange trees full of ripe fruit, the old open markets, the chic neighborhoods, and, then, in the late afternoon, rode the metro to Piraeus, the seaport of Athens. As the sun set over the Strait of Corinth, we strolled along the circular quay admiring the hundreds of yachts at berth.

The bus back to Korca left at 6 PM. I slept well during the ride through the night in spite of the music blaring on the PA system. I was awakened at one stop by a Greek policeman wanting to see my passport. He smiled when he saw it and told me he had friends in Texas, although he could not remember which city. He asked me why I would want to visit Albania. I explained that I was a volunteer with the Peace Corps assigned to Korca. I didn’t bother to tell him that I was happy to be back among people who spoke Shqip and where clarinets and ballads in a Balkan rhythm lulled you to sleep.

Language Refresher Training

2009-11-07T01:59:00.000-08:00

My Peace Corps group had a mandatory meeting in Pogradec last week. Pogradec is a city on the southwest shore of Lake Ohrid, about an hour bus ride northeast of Korca. This is an incredibly beautiful mountain lake between Macedonia and Albania. If Lake Tahoe was surrounded by cities and villages with Mediterranean style tiled roof buildings it might look like Lake Ohrid.

It was sunny, but cold and windy. The space heaters in the rooms didn’t work too well, but that is pretty much the case throughout Albania. I have broken out my long underwear and down sleeping bag and have covered the windows in my apartment with a double layer of plastic sheeting. I plan to put a heavy curtain over my door frame since you can see around the frame and the wind whips right on through the cracks. My landlord gave me another space heater that runs on either electric or gas (God bless him). At the hotel in Pogradec, I sat near the heaters and wore sweaters and my coat at times (something I don’t remember having to do at any hotel around Lake Tahoe).

In the evening, after the day’s session, we walked in a tight group along the stone promenade on the lakeshore to a one of several good restaurants in Pogradec. The owner seemed very happy to see us, maybe because business is slow in the off-season or because he had lived in Michigan for a number of years. He offered us a discount “American steak” dinner. It was about $8, not bad for a t-bone. My group treated an American missionary from Pennsylvania who has worked with the Roma (gypsy) community in Pogradec for decades. She talked to us about the problem of human trafficking, not the most cheerful dinner conversation. Guilt is not my favorite side-dish.

Speaking of “downers”, we have lost about 10% of my original group of volunteers to early termination (Peace Corps speak for going home before completing the two years of service) due to illness or personal reasons. I don’t know if this is high or low or about average for a Peace Corps group, at this point in the 27 month term of service, although I have read that overall about 1 in 3 ET. Some were good friends from pre-service training, and I miss them. One was a pre-med student from Virginia who had put off medical school to serve in Albania. She had hoped to work in a rural area, but had been assigned to one of the bigger cities and wasn’t happy. Another was an engineer and my go-to person for computer and other technical problems. She had taken ill and went home to recuperate. I have heard she wants to return, but may not be allowed. Also, the couple from the group ahead of mine who were serving in Korca, recently left for medical and personal reasons and I am now the only Peace Corps volunteer in my city (when I first got here there were 5). I was looking forward to getting to know them as they seemed interesting, as people, and effective, as volunteers. She is from Chicago and taught English at the university. He is from Florida and did community development with the Korca city hall.

I was very impressed with the language ability of some of my cohort. They already seem to have mastered the Albanian language. One was even able to do Hamlet’s soliloquy in Shqip! I try to study regularly and almost daily read the Top Chanel-Shqip news on-line, referring to my Oxford Albanian-English dictionary. Sometimes, though, the words just don’t stick, and I have to look up the same word more than once for the same article. We were divided into groups based on our level. I am in the middle group, meeting the requisites of the Peace Corps, but not much more.

Some people have a real flare for languages, but not me. I am thinking of asking some of my counterparts who speak English with me to talk more in Shqip and may also post language learning material on the walls of my apartment (at minimum it will provide some insulation). Maybe I should put a language text under my pillow so I can learn by osmosis.

I am not sure how much I got out of the 4 day, intensive training in terms of increased facility with the language. I did enjoy seeing the members of my service group, especially the ones who are assigned in the north who I have not seen since pre-service training in Elbasan. It was exciting to hear about their sites and activities and commiserate about plumbing, heating, scorpions, bedbugs, cracks in the walls, leaks in the ceilings, and adventures in cultural misunderstanding.

They also helped me by trying out my new board game, “Furgon Driver”. You can probably guess where the inspiration came from. I drew the game board with crayons on a piece of cardboard. I cut the playing tokens from a hazel nut branch. Someone gave me the deck of cards which I wrote on to customize it for the game, and I cut the “perk” and “hazard” cards from computer paper. The only thing I paid for was the die, which was about 25 cents. I envision the game coming with a CD of regional Albanian music to be played in the background. Since anyone who has spent much time in an Albanian bus or furgon, already has that running in his or her head, we omitted that detail. The game played reasonably well and I got some good ideas for improvement. If I ever get it made, you know what your “crummy souvenir” from Albania is likely to be.

Korca has had lots of rain this month as well as the cold. Just above freezing and cars can be seen around town sporting a layer of snow, presumably after driving in from the surrounding mountains. My laundry is taking forever to dry. I now string it inside to see if I can get it dry in less than a week.

I am planning my first vacation out of the country for a few days next week. A group of Peace Corps, Albania, volunteers is running in the Athens marathon and I am going along for the trip, but have no intention of running or even walking. I suppose I will be called upon to help with first aid and post race therapy. I am looking forward to touring the sites and, the weather site on the web predicts temperatures between 70 and 80.

There is a very modern coach service on Albatrans direct to Athens from Korca. It only costs 35 euro and leaves several times a day. With my American passport, it is so simple and easy for me to make a reservation and go. Like most Americans, I take it for granted and rarely consider this right of American citizenship that allows me to travel without difficulty to so much of the world. My Albanian friends have to wait in long lines at the Greek consulate to get a visa. There is some irony that Albanians, once a part of the Ottoman Empire which issued some of the world’s first passports to its taxpaying citizens allowing travel throughout the Califate and abroad, now face hurdles to travel almost anywhere out of their country. With high unemployment and some towns with almost none for its young people, some resort to illegally sneaking into Greece or Italy to find work. American visas are granted by random selection of a limited number from the thousands of applications. Albanians call this “winning the lottery”. I have been told there are well trod paths marked by cairns through the mountains on the Greek border. I wonder what the border crossing will be like on the bus.

Funeral

2009-10-23T03:42:00.000-07:00

Late Tuesday afternoon the nurses of the health education unit asked me if I would help them with a project. That is my primary assignment so, of course, I quickly agreed. Wednesday was National Mammography Day. That morning they had received materials from Tirana; posters, flyers, pamphlets, pink ribbons with safety pins, t-shirts and a large banner. They wanted to organize a march downtown to promote mammography and breast cancer awareness. I’m a mammal, men can get breast cancer, too, (although I have heard it said that the screening machine would be less vise like if men had to endure it), and this is what most Peace Corps health education volunteers are supposed to do. I may be old, but I was on it.

It might seem like this was late notice, but in Albania things usually get planned at the last minute. In the early evening I walked over to the house where the Preca Society lives and asked the head of the school if some of the students could be excused from class for about an hour to join in. I also phoned the health education Peace Corps volunteer in Bilisht to see if she would help. She comes to the Preka School to teach exercise and supervise community activity service that is part of the curriculum. She said it was right up her alley and she would be happy to help.

I walked to Dr. Isufi’s clinic where I work on Wednesday mornings and figured I would leave a bit early to attend the midday rally. When I got there the metal garage door was pulled down over the entrance. At the home adjacent there was the top of a casket by the door and a hand written sign with Dr. Isufi’s father, Hasan’s name on it. I had known that he was mortally ill and he had died during the night. I walked back to my apartment, put on a better shirt, a tie and a dark pair of pants. Then I returned to the Isufi home to pay a condolence call.

I went into the sitting room where the men were seated. I shook hands around, told Dr. Isufi how sad I was to learn about his father’s death and sat down next to the man I had met in the village we had walked to when we went on the lake excursion. Women were seated in a different room, but, after a while, Mrs. Isufi came in to greet the men. I stayed about half an hour, then left to make room for others waiting in the hall and yard to pay their respects. Dr. Isufi asked if I would come back at noon.

I walked over to the post office to pay my electric bill. The line was 10 deep with people out to the street. After a few minutes the lady at the window got up to take a break, so I gave up for the third time in two days and walked up the street to the cathedral steps where the march was to assemble. It was 10 minutes before the scheduled time and no one was there.

I walked inside to visit with the older man who supervises candle sales in the lobby of the cathedral. I had been introduced to him by a previous volunteer, and, even though we can’t converse very much, he has a very pleasant demeanor. I bought a couple of candles and lit one for Dr. Isufi’s father and one for a couple of friends back home who are fighting serious illness. When I walked back outside into the sunlight, the Preka students were walking up, right on schedule, but still no nurses.

Not to worry, counseled the volunteer from Bilisht. She had done something with an NGO a few weeks prior and they were an hour late for the event. Sure enough, a few minutes late, but pretty prompt in Albanian terms, the nurses walked up and passed out ribbons, t-shirts and flyers. Some pictures were taken, a couple of the nurses bravely strode out into the traffic and the march was off.

We walked about ½ a mile to where the banner was stretched between lamp posts by the old national bank building. Flyers were passed to women we encountered as we walked. At the front of the bank, more pictures were taken, a camera man from Korca TV showed up, and the event was complete. The students walked back to school and I headed back to the Isufi home.

More than 200 people were gathered in the street outside. There were three buses and several cars. I was hailed by Maca and Kristof, from the ski hill project, and I rode with them in Maca’s car as we followed the hearse to the cemetery. The large, crowded Korca cemetery is just south of the city. We walked to the center where a new grave had been dug. The cleric, a baba, said a few words and threw in a handful of dirt. Other men and women did likewise, then the grave diggers filled in the hole, and, led by the family and baba, we all walked over to a large restaurant near the graveyard.

Apparently nothing significant takes place in Albania without eating. Everyone attending was served a 4 course, sit down meal. Typically, it was much more than anyone could possibly eat. Although there were bottles of raki on every table and bottled water and soft drinks, there was no beer served. I am not sure why this was. Maybe beer is considered inappropriate for funerals. Dr. Isufi’s family is Muslim, but they are Bektashi. This is a liberal sect of Islam, based in Albania. They allow alcohol and have no dietary restrictions, and, in the same vein, put no limitations on women. I am not sure if they are the U-U equivalent in the Islamic world, but they are at least the UCC.

After the meal, the baba said a few more words, stood up and shook hands with the family. Then we all formed a line and shook hands and exchanged a few words in turn. Dr. Isufi said I should come to clinic in the morning. Walking home, past the row of stands that line the road approaching the cemetery, where they sell bouquets of artificial flowers that are preferred for memorials here, through the neighborhood of 5 story, communist-block apartments, I relished the warm, autumn afternoon sun after two weeks of cold and rain.

Trimester Report

2009-10-06T03:49:00.000-07:00

The end of September is harvest time in Albania. In the US, the fall harvest often results in friends or neighbors leaving bags of zucchini on your doorstep, ringing the doorbell and running away. Albanian gardens seem more productive and Albanians are more direct and aggressive in passing on their excess. They bring 20 lb bags of apples to you at work. If you visit their home for any reason, plan to leave with at least two bags full of apples, pomegranates the size of large grapefruit, persimmons, grapes (green and red), figs, quince, walnuts, hazelnuts, and, of course, squash. It doesn’t matter if your arms are already full of books or papers or baggage, and, of course, in Albania it is a matter of honor.

“Please, I really can’t accept all this. I live alone and it is way too much for me.”

“What? How can I bear to face my family if you do not accept? Please, take two more pomegranates.”

“It is very generous of you, but I can hardly walk. Please, no thank you.”

“I cannot show my face at home if you refuse. Would you have my children be fatherless? Do you insist that they be left destitute? (…pause for effect as my ignominy sinks in) Here, take another bag of grapes? Do you like jam? Homemade from our black fig tree, this jar is too small, take two. Do you drink raki?”

Luckily, another Peace Corps volunteer lived nearby and I was able to struggle to her house. She was at home, but not feeling well. While she was resting, I left one of the bags in her kitchen. It was sneaky, but it was a matter of survival, and I was certain she would have done the same to me.

As I trudged up the hill to my apartment, I met a neighbor family with whom I am friendly. I was very grateful that they would accept two pomegranates, which probably weighed 2 lbs. a piece. When I got home, I put the ripe stuff in the fridge and what needed to ripen on the table. I have found that when I am a guest at meals, if I just say I am too old to eat so much or simply that “I am not Albanian”, it gets both a laugh and me out of a heaping refill of my dish. So far, I haven’t figured out a way to comfortably and effectively decline the bags of produce. Maybe I should just learn to can.

The end of September also is time for the first Trimester Report, required of all Peace Corps volunteers. You probably think I am on some kind of extended, low budget, government sponsored vacation, but I am actually expected to do some work, and not only that, to report my activities three times a year. The Peace Corps does many things to help developing countries around the world, but in Albania the activities are in three areas: community development, teaching English and health education. Each volunteer is assigned to one of these. Even so, we are encouraged to work in other, secondary areas if we have time and the opportunity presents itself. In addition there are four initiative areas: HIV/AIDS, information and communication technology, women and gender development, and youth development. Finally, in addition to helping development by developing local capacity by training individuals in countries where the Peace Corps has been invited, there are two additional goals: to help Americans learn about the people of the country where you are assigned, and, to help the people of the country where you work to learn about Americans. To some extent, this blog is part of my work on the first of these additional goals.

My work activities have developed over the first couple of months in Korca. I showed up at 8 AM, the first Monday, at my primary assignment with the health education nurses in the Directorate of Public Health for the Korca region. There are 4 young women in this group, mostly nurses, who teach a variety of lessons on health topics, rotating through the local schools, primary grades through high school. Some of the younger volunteers with this type of assignment go along with the nurses and help teach these classes. At my age and with my background this would be a poor fit. Volunteers are allowed quite a bit of leeway as to their specific work, so after a couple of awkward weeks, we mutually agreed to limit our work to few mornings a week of translating health education materials which I have access to on the web (through my prior work) from English into Albanian . As we do this, we discuss the topic, so it becomes kind of a seminar on the various topics. It also serves to help the nurses learn English. Some of the nurses have an interest in Spanish, and since I have some ability in that language, we work on that as well. Of course, all this translating also helps me with my Shqip.

One day a week, after I finish with the nurses, I work with a physician who works as the hygienist/epidemiologist for the department. He is interested in work and environmental topics, something more up my alley. We did a project for an EU photo contest of work site safety, visiting work sites in the Korca region and taking pictures. We submitted an entry, although it was unofficial since Albania is not yet a member of the EU. After that, we worked on a grant proposal to try to obtain equipment for quantitative work site environmental testing for respirable dust particles, temperature, humidity, air flow, light, noise, carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulfide and combustible gases. This would greatly increase his capacity to do meaningful inspections and gather data to help meet work health and safety requirements for EU membership. The first shot at funding was submitted a week ago and we should hear a response in a couple of weeks. Whether or not we get it, we are both going to a Peace Corps course on project development and management in December that will be held in Tirana.

Two days a week, I work with a group of lab technicians, mostly on learning English, although I do try to incorporate related health topics when I can. I have two other students for English, local teenagers who were tutored by previous volunteers who asked me to continue with them. One is a 17 year old boy with a congenital visual impairment, the other the 15 year old daughter of one of my neighbors.

Two other days, I work in a rehabilitation clinic with Dr. Isufi, who I have previously mentioned. He speaks some English and has internet access, so I have been helping him get connected and identify resources as well as working directly with patients. The other clinic I work with is run by an NGO, initially started by the Anglican Church, but now with sponsorship from a number of Christian denominations, mainly from the US. They work with the physically disabled in the region through a therapy clinic at their center and home health visits. I do a seminar with the nurse/therapists on relevant topics once a week at the clinic and often go with them on home visits or see patients with them in their clinic.

I also work in a Maltese missionary school that teaches at the high school level in English. While this is a private school, it is much less expensive than the usual Albanian private school, has no special deals to get admitted, is scholastically demanding and has a great record of placing graduates in good universities in Albania and around the world where they have done well. The society runs schools in Albania, Poland and Cuba and does other projects in developing countries. It is called the Preca Society, founded by St. George Preca, of Malta. It is a lay society, although its members live communally and take a vow of celibacy. I teach the required life skills class to the 88 kids in level one (tenth grade). I also have offered an elective in the “scientific method” which will consist of learning how to do science projects. If all goes according to plan, the school will host the first science fair in Albania next spring.

Finally, two afternoons a week I work with the Aviation Interest Club at the American Library in Korca. This is a group of about a dozen teens who want to learn more about airplanes. It has been adopted by a chapter of the EAA from Albuquerque and has also received support from pilots and friends of mine from Idaho and Nevada. The library undoubtedly now has the best aviation collection in the country where most kids have never seen an airplane up close. We have a flight simulator program on a computer in the library, and since flying involves learning English (which is the language of international flight control) and most licensed pilots have to pass a medical exam and maintain good health to continue to legally fly and the majority of the teens are girls, we cover most of the initiative areas as well as have fun.

I try to be active in the community, meeting many of my neighbors and people around Korca. I help pick up trash in the yard around my apartment building. I give treats to my neighbor’s dog. I shop in the local markets, where I know several of the merchants and speak well enough to converse a bit. I am a regular at concerts and exhibitions at the cultural center in Korca, and, as I have previously mentioned, do my morning constitutional walks up the mountain with my fellow Korcans, go on excursions with Dr. Isufi’s patients and help out with maintenance and construction projects at the local ski area. All that, plus my continued relationship and visits with my host family and others back in Thane, help with the third Peace Corps goal.

So that is what one, of the almost 8000 volunteers worldwide, is doing in one placement, in one country, of the 76 where the Peace Corps currently works. I hope that dispelled your suspicions. By the way, do you like pomegranates?

Voskopoja

2009-09-19T02:17:00.000-07:00

In the early 1300’s, about 150 years before Columbus sailed to the Americas, the town of Voskopoja was established in a high, fertile mountain valley. After 400 years, it had grown to the largest city in the Balkans, bigger even than Athens. Its 35,000 inhabitants had built 24 churches, a monastery and an academy training artists and architects. It was famous for its frescoes and icons and beautiful basilicas. Fires, earthquakes and invasions have taken their toll since then. It is now a remote, though tidy and scenic, mountain village of a few hundred people whose orchards and fields hide the ruins of its former glory.

A couple of former Peace Corps volunteer were touring through Korca as they traveled through Albania in a rented 4WD. They had served in Fiji in the 1980’s, but had continued their love of foreign adventure and each year chose an exotic destination to visit for a couple of weeks of vacation, often in countries with current Peace Corps activity. There is a bond of shared experience among former and current volunteers, and I had heard through the grapevine, that they were about. I was happy to show them around Korca. I even offered them a place to stay, although they have real jobs and opted for a hotel room instead.

I showed them churches and museums, coffee shops and stores around Korca. We had dinner at Vasili’s. Most locals identify it as the best in Korca. This includes my counterpart at the Public Health Department who is in charge of inspecting restaurants. A good endorsement, indeed, although by any standard, it is an excellent restaurant. Their specialty, lemon soup, is amazingly good. This was followed by a grilled assortment of vegetables (egg plant, peppers, cauliflower, beans, beets and squash), toasted bread, fish, beef, and sugar-cake (a local dessert) and fresh grapes. My friends drank a carafe of local, red wine which they said was good. At about $9 a head, it is more expensive than most places in Korca, but well worth it.

We joined the stroll along the boulevard in the pleasant fall evening. When we returned to their hotel they said they were planning to drive to Voskopoja the next day and asked if I wanted to come along. I did not have to be asked twice.

I have wanted to visit Voskopoja for awhile. Many of the most beautiful icons in the icon museum in Korca and in the National Museum in Tirana are from Voskopoja artists. We had a bit of trouble finding the road, and I was glad my Shqip is now functional enough to ask directions. The drive took about an hour on a winding and frequently unpaved road (what else would one expect in Albania) and the 4WD was useful in places. There were crews working on it and someday the road will be good, although a dump truck lying on its side off a steep drop indicated how formidable a task this is. We parked the Toyota in the center of town and set off on foot.

It was a fresh, early autumn day with small puffs of cumulus clouds in a bright blue sky. The fruit trees were laden with plums, wild pears, and thane fruit (a red, olive sized fruit with a slight acid tinge to its sweetness that is sold in cups on the streets of Korca). Blackberries and rose hips were thick on bushes along the paths. Locals worked in their gardens or tended sheep, goats or cows in the fields. They waved to us as we passed.

The buildings were stone with tile roofs, surrounded by low stone walls along narrow cobbled streets. The heroic, communist era monument in the center of town seemed out of place. It had graffiti on it and was broken in places. We found the Church of St. Nicolas, but it was locked and workers nearby said the priest was away in Korca and no one else had the keys. We climbed to a raised yard and along a fence and got a good view of the frescoes on the outside wall. We sampled a few of the yellow and red plums on the trees.

We walked across town to another church and encountered a teenage girl who spoke some English and told us she could give us a tour if we wanted. She was born in Voskopoja, but commuted every day to Korca to attend high school. When she graduated she planned to join her sister and go to university in Tirana. She led us along paths through fields to ruins that we never would have found on our own. One church had frescoes that had been defaced on the outside and on the inside when the communists had used it for storage. There was a large graveyard on the hillside by the church going down to the creek. Some graves were recent and some headstones were hundreds of years old. More recent ones had photos of the departed. Alongside were empty bottles of wine or raki, incense holders and dried or fake flowers. Albanians frequently visit graves of relatives on weekends and holidays.

Our guide pointed us towards the center of town and headed home. We then drove towards the monastery. We made a wrong turn and ended up at a small military base. The soldiers were friendly and pointed us in the right direction. We drove up a hill to the monastery which is an EU cultural site, according to the sign on the wall. No photos or cameras were allowed. A caretaker wandered about outside and let us into the church. The wood carving and icon painting inside were remarkable. We left some coins in the box by one of the icons and offered the caretaker something to compensate him for his trouble, but he refused politely. We walked around the buildings for a bit and then headed back to Korca.

We stopped at another church in Mborja. We waited outside while an old man passing by went to tell someone at the store up the street to bring the keys to let us in. This church is small but its frescoes from the 13th century are well preserved and show scenes of the final judgment and the apostles.

We then drove back into Korca. We had a late lunch at the beer garden adjacent to the Birra Korca brewery and near my apartment. My new friends gave me a recent New Yorker magazine, a recently published paperback novel and a bag of M & M’s. We said our goodbyes and they drove off the Pogradec and Lake Ohrid. They planned to spend the night in Lin, a town on a peninsula in the northwest corner of the lake, which I’ve admired from a bus window and heard good things about, but have not yet been able to visit. I walked back home to my apartment, across the litter strewn dirt yard between the blocks, past a recently collapsed brick wall, up the alley and into the building, and got back to work.

Trashegohet

2009-09-01T04:13:00.000-07:00

I went back to Elbasan for the first time since Pre-Service Training. I stayed with another volunteer and we attended the wedding of the middle of five daughters of one of the Thane host families. It is apparently quite an honor to be invited to a wedding in Albania, and traditional weddings, like this one, are very big deals.

Our arrival at the house was heralded by an Albanian combo (drum, clarinet and accordion). We were welcomed with handshakes and hugs and air kisses to both cheeks (traditional greeting for good friends and family). We were seated on a couch next to the father (the most honored seat), served raki to toast the day, and given small bags of cookies and candy. We sat and chatted for a while, then went outside to make room for arriving visitors. The band played for the arrival and departure of each group. People in the courtyard did the traditional line dance to the music and money for the band was placed in the drum.

After about an hour and a half, we went to a room above one of the Thane lokals which had been recently remodeled. It has large open windows and ceiling fans for cross ventilation which was really needed for the stifling, humid weather. Because it was held in a village, it had to be during the daytime because public transportation stops at about 6 PM and the guests needed time to get home. In cities, wedding parties are usually in the evening, to avoid the heat of the day, and go on most of the night. We were seated with more than 100 guests, in groups according to family relationship (we sat with the sisters and brother of the bride’s mother and their families). Sons-in-law of the two older sisters managed the bar and younger sisters and cousins handled food service under the supervision of the youngest brother of the father. Food had been prepared by the family, excluding the mother of the bride who got the day off. Being Albania, of course there was a lot of food, but that hardly describes it. That is like saying there is a lot of water in the Pacific Ocean.

The combo from the house was joined by a drum and keyboard. They had amplification which was set just below feedback, most of the time. My ears will ring for a week. The bride was seated at a small table on a dais at one end of the room under an arch of flowers. People waited until everyone was served and the father gave a toast. Then the guests began to carefully pick at the huge plate of meats, cheeses, and vegetables in front of each person, and the baskets of fruits and bread and bottles of water, soft drinks and beer on each table. They knew this was only the first course. One has to pace eating at celebrations in Albania. Traditional line dancing commenced. Each table would get up to do the money dance. People put bills in the hands of the lead dancers with a competition to see which group raised the most money for the couple.

After 2 hours, the groom and his family arrived. The bride’s family formed a reception line. The males of the family came first and were greeted with handshakes, hugs and air kisses. The women were next and were similarly greeted. Then, finally, the groom, who was escorted to the head table and seated next to the bride. The groom’s family was seated at their own table. Line money dancing then resumed and, this time, with the groom’s family joining the competition. They had critical expressions on their faces, apparently judging the quality of the party and the feast. How could it not pass? For the first time at the party, I saw the parents of the bride smile.

After 3 more hours and courses of soup and several kinds of meat (there is an Albanian proverb, “dasme pa mish nuk ka”- “there is no wedding without meat”, i.e. nothing comes without some sacrifice), a cake was brought out. It had several layers, sparklers and fireworks on top and when they were set off, confetti and spray snow were showered on the couple as they cut the cake. They then led the traditional handkerchief dance. They passed it back and forth and then both held on as they danced under arches of raised arms and joined hands of the other couples.

After the bridal pair returned to the head table, the groom’s family stood up, left the party, and took the groom with them. There was another receiving line. Each was given a large bar of chocolate with a picture of the newlyweds on the wrapper. The party then continued for another hour or more. The following day, the groom will drive to the bride’s home and take her to his village where there will be a similar party, with the roles reversed. After that, the bride and groom will move into their new home, living with the groom’s family. Imagine the thrill of a new bride being welcomed to her new home by her mother-in-law.

This was a modest wedding. It only lasted three days (there was another party the day before that we missed). Some Albanian wedding parties go on for 6 days. This does not count the similar big party held for the engagement, usually one year before the wedding. Rings are traditionally exchanged by the couple at the engagement.

It is very rare for a couple, once engaged, not to go on to marry. This is a great dishonor, particularly for the woman. It is almost as bad as divorce, which is rare in Albania. This may be because few families can afford more than one wedding per child (which requires years of saving). In spite of that, broken engagements and divorce are increasing in Albania, particularly in the bigger cities, like Tirana. In traditional villages, like Thane, it would be hard to show your face after either. I wonder what they think of me with two counts against my past. It is an indication of their tolerance and affection for Americans that I can be an honored guest at this occasion.

After the wedding, the father of the bride and many other relatives will return to Greece or Italy or elsewhere to resume their migrant work. He is gone for 6 months a year working in orchards. He feels lucky to have a work visa no matter how much he misses his family. It is that work that paid for their house and this wedding. The groom similarly worked two jobs in Wales for four years to save up enough money to return home to marry. He is a hard worker and smart. He is fluent in English and Greek. He wants to start a construction business with his brothers. It might work out as their village is only an hour or so from the big growth area between the capital and its seaport, Durres. Also, I noticed several new buildings in Elbasan as well as new stores and cafes. Even so, once the new couple is settled in, he will likely have to leave again for work. His new wife is a skilled seamstress and will probably run a business from their home as she will be left to manage home and family, just as her mother ran a byrek stand, tended the cow, chickens and garden, and took care of 5 daughters while her husband worked abroad.

By the way, “trashegohet” means “to enjoy a happy life with one’s family”. In the optative mood (used to express desires or wishes) it is the traditional Albanian greeting of good wishes given by guests to the family at a wedding. I said, “Trashegohesh!” to my hosts as I entered their home, the band played, and I was greeted with the genuine warmth that seems characteristic of most Albanians. I meant it.

Warden Training

2009-08-10T08:17:00.000-07:00

So, I am traveling on a bus back to Korca, winding over the mountain road between Tirana and Elbasan, pitching side to side as we pass dump trucks, and motorcycles, hay carts, old ladies walking their cows, herds of sheep and goats and even a couple of Germans on a bicycle tour. Clarinet music is playing to a syncopated Balkan beat over the bus speakers. I am gazing out the window at the deep valley far below the cliff edge of the pavement which has a 104 degree haze lying over it. The little boy in front of me pukes his breakfast over his mother. She puts her head down, as does the old lady in her traditional black dress and white scarf across the aisle. When the young girl who is sitting on her mother’s lap in the seat next to me starts to look a bit green, I pull a plastic bag from my pocket and hand it to her mother. She accepts this gratefully and passes it to her daughter. The bus conductor (most every bus in Albania has a conductor to take fares and help with baggage) opens a roof vent which helps a lot. What strikes me then, is that none of this seems particularly remarkable to me. I am suddenly made aware of how much I have accepted as normal things that would have amazed in their strangeness a few months ago. Humans, even old ones, adapt quickly. I go back to looking out the window, dozing off occasionally on the long trip.

I was in Tirana again for two days of Warden Training. I am a warden for the Korca region. This involves responsibility for safety and security and an intermediate role in the Emergency Action Plan for Peace Corps Albania. This is not a abstract exercise. The Peace Corps had to evacuate from Albania in 1997 during civil unrest that followed the collapse of Ponzi schemes that evaporated most of the assets people had from distributions following the collapse of communism a few years earlier. There were riots, fires, shootings, road closures, etc. (I wonder how Americans would have reacted had the malfeasance of Madoff and Stanford had as broad an effect on our economy). Eight of our current volunteers were evacuated from Georgia after the Russians invaded last year. They could hear artillery from where they were staying. If you are evacuated from an assignment before completing enough of your term of service, you are offered placement in another country, based on their need and ability to absorb additional volunteers. A few went directly from Georgia to Albania and began service following abbreviated pre service training in Albanian language and culture. Three in my group went home for awhile before returning this year to start again. Albania is also an active earthquake area and, during a drought a couple of years ago, large forest fires raged nearby in Greece.

I am supposed to keep track of the 8 volunteers in my region and be ready to assemble them and keep them at my apartment for awhile, and evacuate them safely through Tirana, if communication is maintained and that this advised or, on my own initiative, to either Macedonia or Greece, if communication is lost, the situation meets established criteria and I decide it is a good idea. At training we reviewed policy and procedures and did some exercises with various scenarios. I am glad there are only 8 volunteers in my region and I would guess that some would proceed on their own across the border, since Pogradec, where there is one volunteer, is only a few miles from Macedonia and Bilisht, where there are two, is walking distance to Greece. Other regions have a lot more volunteers and, if the one airport or ports were closed, might have a long and difficult trek to the border.

The election in June was very close. It took weeks to get the result. The current, right of center government had to make a deal with a leftist splinter group to continue in power. The left of center opposition has not been happy with this, but it seems the election was generally fair and the results have been accepted. International monitors were positive in their assessment. All this seems hopeful to me. It is hard for me to imagine bands of heavily armed factions fighting it out in the streets of Korca, burning public buildings, blocking roads, and pulling people from their cars, as happened in 1997. Perhaps the worst consequence of that was the large migration of educated professionals from Albania as engineers, doctors, nurses, and teachers left en masse; a severe setback for a poor country trying to emerge from more than a generation of communist dictatorship.

A few of the people at the NGO’s where I do some of my work were here through that period. They acknowledged being uncertain and scared at times, but say they kept their heads down and got through it. Korcans I have talked to about it say they stayed inside and away from windows, lay on the floor if they heard gunfire and had problems keeping kids occupied when schools were closed for months and they couldn’t play outside. Food and other supplies were difficult at times, but friends and family helped each other. That was a time when steel doors and bars on windows were put on apartments and concrete block walls with steel gates were built around homes. Some people are able to adapt to a lot more than wild bus rides.

Ekskursion

2009-08-04T11:24:00.000-07:00

Once a month, Dr. Isufi organizes an outing for his patients. He hires a larger furgon to take them and a few family members to some scenic place near Korca. He invited me along on a recent trip to a lakeside park.

A basic, 15 passenger furgon (deluxe models have additional features like shocks or brakes) was filled with 24 people. In typical Albanian fashion, the aisle was filled with plastic stools for extra passengers. Since I was an honored guest, I got a plastic chair in the front of the aisle. The bus was a bit hard to start, so the driver had to work on it and get some water for the radiator. Eventually we were on our way heading northwest from town.

After a short ride we pulled into a private park with grass among large trees by a lake with swans and ducks. There were rowboats for hire, but these were being used by wedding parties for photographs of brides and grooms rowing on the lake and feeding the swans (we are in the thick of Albanian wedding season. I will write more on this later as I am attending a wedding back in Thane at the end of the month). Our group sat on blankets and laid out a typical feast of roast chicken, pilaf, cheese, bread, fruits and vegetables, sausage, beer and raki. Being the guest, everyone made an effort to feed me. Luckily, Dr. Isufi invited me to go walking while I was still able to stand.

We walked to a nearby village where a friend and former patient of Dr. Isufi runs a small coffee bar. Dr. Isufi pulled his hat low over his face and had me walk up to the elderly man, who was sitting on a chair in front of the small, empty store, and ask for directions. He then pulled up his hat and surprised his friend, who was obviously delighted at both the visit and the prank. They shared a beer and I sampled some water from a local spring, and his son and grandson came from the house behind the shop to join us.

We took a short cut through fields back to the park and the patient group. Most of them were still eating, although some were walking along the lake and waving at and well wishing the wedding groups in the boats. After a few hours, we loaded up and headed back to Korca. Each person paid about $2 for the trip.

Dr. Isufi spent 5 years after medical school working as an emergency doctor at a small city near the lake. After communism fell, he returned to his home town of Korca to work as a sports medicine doctor for the local soccer team. After a couple of years, the owner of the team wanted to charge Dr. Isufi to continue the relationship, so Dr. Isufi built a small gym and clinic in front of his parents home, where he also lives with his wife and children, and continues to run his rehabilitation and sports medicine practice. According to a friend of mine, it is the only one of its kind in Albania. He has been here for more than 20 years and is largely self-taught in his specialty.

The clinic is pretty different from anything I have ever encountered in the US. Patients seem to come in without appointments, often walking in on another patient undergoing evaluation or treatment to ask their own question. I have not seen any record keeping or consent forms, although the doctor does make a ledger entry if there is any payment, although this seems infrequent and is rarely more than a few dollars. His diagnoses and treatments seem pretty reasonable for the most part. Most of the patients seem to being doing well, although many have been coming to the gym for years.

Dr. Isufi does not have a car and gets around town on his bicycle or on foot. His parent’s home is near the center of town, so he does not really need a car. He even is able to make house calls on patients who cannot get to the clinic. In typical Albanian fashion, these involve sitting and drinking coffee (or sometimes raki) with the patient and family and chatting about everyone’s family including the doctor’s and mine. Eventually the discussion gets to the patient and their problems.

On the weekend Dr. Isufi likes to work on a ski area of which he is a part owner. It is in the mountains nearby. It is not Sun Valley. It is not Soldier Mountain (a small Idaho ski area owned by Bruce Willis). It is much more like a small ski hill that was set up by a group of Boy Scouts as an eagle project in Cambridge, Idaho, using a washing machine motor to operate a rope tow. Dr. Isufi would like to have a disabled ski program there someday.

One of the other owners owns a bakery in Korca has a van. One Sunday four of us piled into it with bags of cement, shovels and picks, and three steel posts scrounged from somewhere. I was among the youngest of the group and the oldest, who they call “The Commissar” (which he was during communism, but now it is just a nickname), is 78. Two years ago they built a day lodge and that day we dug a trench along the hillside on the northeast corner of the building and built a stone foundation for a kitchen extension. The steel posts were put on concrete footings and set vertical with a level. There were no plans, and, as far as I could tell, none were used for the day lodge either. We worked hard all day long, but did take about an hour for a typical Albanian lunch, complete with the feed the visitor event. I had bought a loaf of corn bread and some fresh vegetables from a small store before we set out, but the others shared homemade sausage, cheese, sardines, beer, bread, and summer apples. They told stories and jokes over lunch. Dr. Isufi speaks a bit of English and tried to translate some of it for my benefit. After a short rest, we were back at work. I was pretty beat at the end of the day. On the way back we stopped to admire a used snow grooming machine they had acquired from Italy that was stored with friends in a village and a building that was being built by some friends at another village along the way.

Dr. Isufi’s wife would like to move to America. He could probably make orders of magnitude more money working as a family doctor in some rural area of the US where most of the doctors appear to be foreign medical graduates. They could have their own house and cars and a second home at a ski area. Dr. Isufi would be a lot better than most of these doctors I have met, but his heart would not be in it. I think he would find American medicine a high pressure, money machine with little time to talk with patients and their families. He would find it strange that there are insurance companies and lawyers that can dictate how long and in what manner he can treat his patients without seeing them or even talking with them or him.

There are lots of problems with medical care in Albania. It is very centralized in Tirana and a patient with any degree of complexity to a problem usually must make the long and difficult trip. Many Albanians do not trust their doctors, who may have bribed their way into medical school or a hospital or clinic position. Complicated, modern equipment, given by a foreign donor, may not be adequately maintained or used appropriately. Many health professionals have emigrated, as Dr. Isufi’s wife urges. In spite of everything, medicine is often provided by doctors to patients humanely and effectively. The same, I think, is true for America.

Fitness

2009-07-25T06:56:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-07T07:16:00.000-07:00

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.

A Small Problem

2009-06-22T12:36:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I took a bus to Permet for the Balkan Music Festival. I decided to go there rather than to the big beach party in Durres that most of my younger Peace Corps cohorts were attending. Permet is about 38 air miles from Korca which would be about 20 minutes in a Cessna even allowing for climb and descent over the mountains, but the winding, narrow, mostly paved road that rises and descends from the steep valleys and craggy, pine covered, hills takes about 5 hours by bus. There were frequent stops to serve the small villages along the route, to allow traffic to pass (including backing up a few times to accommodate the semi trucks that also use the road), for herds of sheep or goats across the road and once at a roadside spring to allow a young girl and the old lady next to her to clean up after the girl lost her lunch in the hot, crowded, airless interior.

We passed through Erseka, a tidy city with wide streets set in a spectacular alpine valley with several visible cascades from snowmelt on the Southern mountains that separate Albania and Greece. There was also Leskovik which appears to have been a fortress city built on a saddle high above two valleys. It had more varieties of trees than I have seen in one place. They appeared to have been planted, judging by their maturity, during the long communist rule after WW II, but I have not been able to find out much about this. One large tree in the town center had a spring pouring from a tap set into its trunk.

Permet is about 20 miles from the Greek border. It is set in the narrow canyon of the Vjosa River. It has been a settlement since Illyrian times but was largely destroyed during WW II and rebuilt by the communists with typical drab, block architecture and heroic monuments to the people’s struggle against the fascists.

The festival which featured lots of clarinets, accordions, lutes and tambourines and dancing in native costumes was held on the plaza in front of one of the monuments. Performances were held in the morning and late evening to avoid the heat of the day. It was well worth the trip. Flags draped across the main street included NATO and the Stars and Stripes alongside the Albanian national and Permet regional banners. A food tasting event was held on the plaza in front of the city hall. When one of the Peace Corps volunteers I was visiting tried to ask for directions to the table serving white wine, we were introduced to the mayor, given plates of bread, cheese, olives, meatballs and shish kabobs and bottles of local Merlot along with glasses of the red wine. This being Albania, we accepted all this gracefully and were thankful we were not also given instruments and costumes and hauled onto the stage.

The apartments of the volunteers in Permet make my place in Korca look deluxe. I regret my previous complaints. My landlords, who live above me, are incredibly nice and quickly attend to any problems. My neighbors are friendly, and even if it is noisy and lacks privacy, the place has a nice community feel to it. There is a small store in a garage on the dirt road in front of my window. The owner is usually sitting in front on the curb playing backgammon or working on his motor bike. Whenever he sees me he asks me to coffee.

I think I have mentioned the coffee culture in Albania. I like coffee and I especially like the sociability of sitting around with friends at a coffee shop chewing the fat over a prolonged cup of the stuff. I have fond memories of the “Geezer Group” in McCall before I’d head up for skiing or at Dawson-Taylor in Boise on 8th street which seemed to attract pilots and offered the closest thing to hangar flying in the city. Albanians take this to a new level. It seems at times that every conversation or interaction here is punctuated with a coffee. You meet someone and it is either over coffee or you then go for coffee. You should have a very good reason to refuse as it is almost an insult. I find the most common reason I have to turn down an invitation is that I already have an invitation for coffee and I am running late.

For example, I recently had to contact my landlord because I was getting a shock from holding the shower head or touching the faucet while taking a shower. This produced a tingling sensation and twitching in the arm. I think this is unlikely to be fatal or it would have been already. I can avoid it by using a hand towel and I did think about another use for duct tape, which I brought with me, or trying to find electrical tape in the Pazar. He does not speak English and my Shqip is still not very functional. I knocked on his door and left word with his wife that I needed to talk with him.

Next afternoon he knocked on my door. I invited him in. Every conversation in Albania begins with an inquiry about how you are doing.

“Good”, I say.

“Good?” he inquires.

“Yes, good, and you?”

“Good”. “Your family?”

Of course, I haven’t been home in more than three months and the internet connection is down and, anyway, no one back home seems very communicative, so how the heck would I know. “Good, I say, and your family?”

“Good.” He smiles. I see we have gotten through the mandatory, first section of any Albanian interaction. Frankly, I don’t know how people are able to get on a bus here and maintain any kind of schedule. He lets me know his wife told him I needed to see him. I tell him about the electrical massage feature of my bathroom plumbing. Apparently this is a phenomenon throughout the building, but he is sympathetic, knowing that I am a wimpy American. He promises to fix it. He waits.

I remember my manners. “Coffee?”

He smiles. We go to the kitchen where I prepare a couple of cups of Turkish coffee. We continue our conversation about the gastric virtues of Turkish coffee vs. espresso, early morning walks up the mountain, relative merits of Korca vs. the other cities in Albania, which are nice, but can’t compare with Korca. This is a sentiment I share, but I suspect every other city in the country feels the same. Back home, we have had similar conversations on the relative merits of McCall vs. Sun Valley, but in Idaho the distances are much greater.

When he comes back an hour or so later, we repeat the whole process, just in case, we are no longer good or have had late word of some family catastrophe, or have not yet had our daily quota of caffeine. I should mention that I have not seen decaffeinated coffee in Albania.

He went around the apartment with a circuit tester, checking sockets and taps and light fixtures. I was amazed at how many were “hot”. He then went outside and pounded in a new ground next to the building. It seemed to fix the problem for a couple of days. Then a New Zealand couple bicycling through Albania spent the night with me (I was very well treated while trekking in New Zealand decades ago and have a resolution to be nice to Kiwis whenever I have the opportunity) and complained of being shocked in the shower. I need to go to the store for some more coffee before I tell my landlord.

Carnival in Korca

2009-06-07T09:21:00.000-07:00

There is a national election in Albania at the end of the month. Among the many rules for Peace Corps volunteers is a prohibition from even the appearance of involvement on politics. A cohort of mine, who works in city hall, was asked by the mayor to be a guest at a dinner speech in their town to be given by one of the national candidates. She was thrilled and even bought a new dress for the occasion. Peace Corps said no. Sometimes being in the Peace Corps is worse than traveling with your parents.

This particular rule, though, is probably for the best. There seems to be a real contest this time, and a relationship with any Western entity plays well in Albania. Everyone is so proud of being admitted into NATO and looks forward to a future in the European Union. A free and fair election will be an important step towards that. So even if I did understand enough Albanian language, culture and history to have an opinion, I would not ever want to do anything that might jeopardize that in any way. So we may grouse about it, but I think most volunteers agree with the policy.

One thing I can report without any bias is that every candidate is for change. One hears that word here even more than it was repeated in the recent US election. In spite of the old joke that “when a politician talks about change he is referring to what will be left in your pocket when he gets done with your wallet”, Albania is changing, palpably and rapidly, and, no doubt, will continue to do so no matter who wins the election.

Korca as a fairly progressive and cultured city is at the forefront of this change, and, of course the case I know best. They are busy repairing the streets and cleaning up parks. The main street I live off of is torn up. Traffic races at the usual breakneck pace, undeterred by the fact that all the traffic now uses only half the road previously available. I almost got hit by a bus that was going the wrong direction on a one way street to get around an area being repaved. There is a cross on a hill overlooking the city. A large number of Korcans get their morning constitutional hiking to the top. There is a natural spring on top. Korcans, like many Albanians. are great connoisseurs of spring water and they bring empty bottles to fill for the daily drinking water, even though the tap water here is safe to drink. They are paving the road to a hotel near the summit. This change may change the nature of the morning “Folks March” to the cross as cars are already roaring up the part that has already been paved.

This weekend was Carnival in Korca. There was a parade on Saturday night through the center of town. It began at about 7:30 PM and ended with fireworks around 10. There were traditional bands (lots of clarinets, guitars and accordions), singers (Korca is famous for serenades and ballades can be heard from beer gardens and locals almost every evening in the pleasant summer weather), dancers in traditional costumes from the region and some from as far away as northern Albania and Macedonia, and clowns on stilts, and acrobats, and lots of masks and Santa Claus and Elvis were there, too. I watched with some other Peace Corps volunteers and some people from the Directorate of Public Health and their families from the steps of the cathedral in the center of town. Apparently, such parades were a long tradition in Korca, but were banned under the communists and were only recently revived. It was a grand event, very well attended by the locals and there were even some foreign tourists.

Such events do a lot for local pride and identity, probably not unlike the Winter Carnival back home in McCall. Hopefully it helps boost the local economy as well (probably hoped for in McCall, as well) since there are towns in the region where there are almost no able bodied, working age males, since they are all away in Greece or elsewhere laboring. Even poor jobs are hard to come by here, as in most of Albania. There are lots of great local products; fruits and vegetables of all variety, a tangy white cheese from Korca that I am particularly fond of and is only available in late Spring, yogurt and olive oil and at least three local breweries. The most famous of these is Birra Korca reputed to be the best in Albania and “birra e zeze” (the dark beer) can hold its own against any in Europe. There is a beer festival in Korca in August, also a recently established event. I may have a dozen or more Peace Corps volunteers from around the country camped out at my apartment for that weekend.

Maybe someday, Birra Korca will be available in the US and Albanians will work in great numbers at the factory and in service and other jobs that spin off from production. For now, the brain drain and emigration continue. An Albanian nurse, trained in therapy by the local NGO that serves disabled children and burn victims in Korca and outlying villages, “won the lottery” and was granted a work visa in the annual drawing run by the US embassy. She has emigrated, no doubt to work in a nursing home someplace in the US. She will make a low wage by US standards, but almost unimaginable in Albania. I will help train new staff at the NGO, but I hope my real purpose is not to live in Albania for 2 years and train Albanians to work in America.

Meanwhile, I enjoy my morning walks up to the cross and enjoyed my friends and the events of the past weekend. I have classes starting over the next couple of weeks in exercise physiology and English and aviation and even a computer class. At least I know that anyone who learns computer skills from me would be very unlikely to find any related employment in the first world.