Balkan Winter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First World on Steroids

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ski Albania

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preka

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viti i Ri

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gazuar Festat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Out of Site

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

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

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

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















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

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

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


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

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