Kultur in Korca

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

“America”, I said in my limited shqip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good House Pets

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.