Good House Pets

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meet and Greet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gazuar Pashken

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kindergarten Flight Instructor

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

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

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

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

“We want to present on another day?”

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

“Teacher, there are no more days open.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Teacher, what should we do?”

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

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

“Let me know what you decide to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

Dita e Veres

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Balkan Winter

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.