A Year in Albania

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.