Europe on 30,000 Lek a Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.