I Have Heat

The Church of St. Thomas the Apostle, Berat

Is it climate change, menopause or Balkan summers? Is it sweat beads, a renegade hair or a bug crawling on some patch of exposed skin? One can never truly discern the true etiology of being bloody hot all the time. I am starting to perfect my Albanian language skills and small talk surrounding expressing my extreme displeasure at sweating like a pig all the time. Apparently, “ I am hot” is not the correct way to convey what you are feeling in terms of temperature, one must say “I have heat,” which is interesting and somewhat hopeful, because I am not hot, I have heat, I can give it away. 

The heat is exacerbated by the constant feasting that is happening on my limbs by mosquitoes. I am finding that ice is the best way to take away the itch, so I have several small plastic bottles in the freezer at all times to help relieve the agonizing feeling. I am also considering how to make my abode less hospitable to mosquitoes without dowsing everything in DDT. As the available areas on my body for new bites is getting smaller and smaller and the red lumps become more numerous, the choice between liver cancer and betting bitten is now quite a tough call. As I was exploring the chain grocery store near my house, I stumbled upon a bag of citronella candles with the label “ZZZZZZZZZZzzstop” Oh joy, I can avoid cancer and also stop the critters, all while smelling like Avon’s skin so soft.

It is interesting to talk to locals about the heat. Apparently, the Balkans sort of skipped summer for several years, having instead so much rain that there was flooding in numerous regions. This past Winter in Albania was the coldest in 35 years, forcing the closure of the nations schools for several weeks. Some volunteers in the northern mountains simply lived in their sleeping bags with hot water bottles for several months, venturing out to quickly use the toilet only when it was absolutely necessary. In times past, August was usually the hottest month, but this year the heat started in May. I am no longer retaining water in my ankles, I sweat constantly, so nothing collects on the inside, only all over my body. Antonio and I were realizing we had begun to live like vampires, closing up our living spaces so no light could penetrate and simply lying in the dark until the sun set so as to avoid the heat.

This morning, Sunday, I ventured out of my garden abode to try  and attend another historic church. Today’s destination was St. Thomas the Apostle, a sweet church with a bell tower in the Gorica side of Berat. The gates to the church were open, revealing a steep cobble stone walk to the courtyard surrounded by lush green gardens. As I began my ascent to the church, I was greeted by a man who was filling bottles of water from a hose, he told me the water came from the snow of the local mountains. He insisted on taking me into the church, and everytime I tried to say something, he would say, “wait” and then continue his monologue about various statistics on the mountains, how many people lived in this section of Berat and various landmarks. All I wanted to do was light some candels, and attend services. I did manage to get in a question even though I was told to wait as I started to ask it, and was told mid sentence on some Icon description, that the only services in this particular church were during Easter. He kept encouraging me to go up flights of stairs to get a view, and the more I did as he bid, the more I started to sweat all over my body. I was thinking to myself, I was all clean and dry when I came, now I am soaking through my dress and my bra is completely drenched. Vasili, as he told me his name, then wanted to hike to the top of the village so I could get the best view. As we started to ascend the 45 degree road, and I became increasingly more drenched, I started to understand what exactly was going on. This kind, informative and enthusiastic man was basically giving me a tour and would expect payment for his service. I told him I was a Peace Corps Volunteer and wanted to go to Mass. He told me he had a family business to maintain. I thanked him, gave him a modest tip which I felt compensated for his 10 minutes of church cobble stone inspired step aerobics and made my way down to the main church in the center of town, next to my school.

Icons and Altar of the Church of St Thomas, Berat

Shën Tomari as it is called in Albanian was built in the 18^th Century but was razed as part of Hoxha forced atheism campaign. When Albania ended communism, the church was rebuilt in the 1990’s in a joint project between Orthodox and Catholic donors. One of the original St. Thomas Icons remains. I found the 12 pointed star mosaic in the center of the sanctuary the most interesting, mainly because it was from the original church. I would like to go back and simply sit in the gardens and relax. I hope to make it there for services next Easter, I am sure they are quite beautiful.

The Orthodox Church in the new part of Berat it seems is where services are held regularly. It is across the street from the the main mosque. I can not for the life of me remember the name, and finding basic tourist information on the web seems beyond my ability. I do know it is a relatively new church, while most of the smaller churches date from the 10^th - 15^th century. What is particularly interesting about this large central church is the quality of the cantors. If you are lucky enough to make it to Sunday Liturgy, it is like one is entering heaven or an ancient historic rite. I watched intently, wondering  how many centuries these rituals have been performed in this 2000 year old city. It also was apparent that the main church is served an arch priest or patriarch. Mostly men participate in the services, which is unique, back in the states, it is usually women who dominate the pews. I found it touching to watch people make the rounds to the Icons with flowers. As I watched the elderly congregants hobble to kiss the priests hands and the icons, I pondered what each of them endured when atheism was enforced as state law.

We, (the children of my school, my A20 fellow Peace Corps Volunteer Antonio and I) are nearing the mid point of our summer camp offerings. From what I am observing from other volunteers throughout Albania, is that Antonio and I have the most ambitious summer camps. We started the Monday after school was out and will continue through the first week of August. At the very first day of camp we had two children, the next day attendance went to 40. Now we have a steady stream of 20 - 30 children per day. Antonio is a seasoned English teacher fresh from a three year stint in Japan. I have learned quite a bit from him as he teaches language games and exercises. The camps are from 8 - 10 am . The first hour has some sort of activity or lesson, the second hour focuses more on games and sports, mostly by the grace of Antonio’s 20 something energy level and physique. I am more of an arts and crafts sort of person sitting on cool marble steps. I justify my lack of motion as trying to keep my bodily fluids inside my sweat glands and not pouring out copiously for all the world to see.

Summer Camp, Berat

We started the camps with a “sampler week,” meaning one theme per day as an intro for the upcoming camps in the following weeks. We had an English Language Camp, obviously led by Antonio. The children were really adept at all the games Antonio presented. Everything from Simon Says to variation on the theme for pictionary and charades. One week was “Food Camp” as a dry run for starting Slow Food in School at my site. This week was all about Honey and Bees. We tasted several local honeys and had the children describe the different flavors. I made them honey ice cream (Akullore me mjaltë) which was so fun to watch the childrens faces as they ate it, as they realized the ice cream had no sugar in it. It was also fun to listen to them describe the quality of the honey; floral. Antonio thought my freezer creation tasted like flan. The week was rounded out by a visit from a local bee keeper who talked about his craft, and a local apple farmer who talked about his orchards. I was truly impressed that the children sat still and asked questions of both guests. 

We then had Science or shkencë as it is called here. I would say what I thought was Shkencë only to have the children say it, with a helpful extra  “sh-k - ee- n-s” pronunciation lesson which resulted in them grinning due to how the mouth needs to be positioned to get the proper sound. Adorable simply isn’t descriptive enough in terms of what they all look like when making sure I say things properly. We did three days of really cheap science experiments illustrating different states of matter, water cycles and mathematical patterns in nature. 

Next week is the All Volunteer conference in Tirana, with an extra treat of celebrating a “After Fourth of July Celebration” at the American Ambassadors Residence. Yours truly volunteered to help with the food prep, so I will be driven by private car to the residence with several other volunteers to help set up tables and grill burgers and hot dogs. 

Summer Camp, Berat

After the conference, Antonio and I will then continue our camps with one week dedicated to “outdoor ambassadors,” one week to arts and crafts and our final week will feature health. 

There is a current phenomena on the internet called “blue whale” a sort of game where an on line animated blue whale dares players to do scary and ultimate deadly tasks such as jump off the side of a building. I saw a segment on the nightly Albanian news about the phenomena. Parents, teachers and health officials were voicing concern over how this newest computer game was a danger to the youth of Albania. On numerous occasions when talking with older children, I was asked what I thought of the ‘blue whale” Inspired by this, I have decided to do a game - scavenger hunt  activity where the children are “dared” to do healthy things, like drink a glass of water, floss their teeth, find out where fruits and vegetables are sold, do a healthy exercise like situps and so on. I discussed this with a few of my older girls, one said immediately “Oh that will be the antidote to blue whale” This girl admitted to me earlier that she watches science experiments on you tube all day long. We had a vote, and it was decided that the color should be purple and the ocean mammal will be a dolphin. So the last week of camp will end with a rousing game of purple dolphin. I have invited other health sector volunteers to join in on the fun, and hope we can start a movement to invite children to healthy life affirming activities prompted by an imaginary internet creature.

Tonight, Antonio and I will be scouting out a hike we will be taking the children on for an upcoming camp. We will be doing this on the way to a supper at a restaurant in the mountains featuring regional specialties from an organic farm. One must couple tasks you know, all in the name of research. When learning of the upcoming hike, the children of course asked what sort of food I would bring them. Spoiled these children already, I have, as Yoda would say. I was able to find the ingredients for oatmeal raisin cookies, we shall see how they turn out considering my baking temperature challenges. The children were told to wear athletic këpucët (shoes) a kapelē (hat) and bring ujë (water) for the hike, which will only last for about an hour. What is the most darling is that the children are upset we do not have camp on the weekends. 

So we are making inroads, trying to be good examples of Americans to the community as well as these children. For myself, I am having a blast and basking in the glow of adoration one can only experience in the presence of children who feel appreciated and encouraged. I am particularly touched by the young boys. Boys these days, and yes I understand everything surrounding girls, sexism and such, and am actively encouraging girls, but boys are getting lost in the shuffle of gender role changes and a more specialized labor market. I am finding that being attentive to boys in positive ways to be quite amazing. 

One young boy who is big as well as plump gets teased by the other children on a regular basis. As a chubby person myself who was tortured my entire childhood for taking up too much space, I do not tolerate this sort of bullying at all. One of the taunting children told me the recipient of their attacks was ugly. I loudly disagreed, holding the target of the abuse close too me. Later I sat the humiliated boy down, who to be honest is not the most handsome person ever, and told him in my best Albanian, that he was beautiful. I kept saying it, over and over, holding his chubby face in my hands and looking into his eyes until he accepted my statement. The next day, this boy ran up to me, took my bags and gave me a hug and a kiss. He tries to help out with tasks and pays attention to the more mundane aspects of lessons with a new vigor I had not noticed before.

I think this is what we are here for, to affirm the dignity of each person we meet. The ramifications are enormous. One wonders if the children who are strapping on bomb jackets and detonating them in outdoor concerts or vegetable markets would do such things if someone took the time to look them in the eye and tell them they were important and beautiful. It seems that the Peace Corps may be preventing terrorism by sending volunteers out to the edges of the earth to simply love children in developing nations. It is much cheaper and more effective than building walls or dropping mega ton bombs on villages. 

Gifts from the Kitchen

It is these experiences and the knowledge that the seeds are being planted for future peace and collaboration, that more than make up for my constant sweating and scratching from the latest evidence of my involuntary blood donation to the local mosquito population. Here is hoping the citronella candles stop the munching.

Random Observations

Abraham and Sarah enjoying Kaliforniperi fusion cuisine on their deck

About a week ago, I found a newspaper ad from a local grocery store chain promoting a seven day sale. There were several items I had been wanting for my kitchen, prominently displayed on the front page. I had my site mate and amazing Summer Camp co-director Antonio show me were the store was located, and made the pilgrimage to an area of Berat I had never visited before. I was also able to finally arrive at the old town kitchen supply store when it was open, so I could purchase the whisk I had been lusting after for several weeks. Regular business hours vary here depending on the owner, who was obviously away for several weeks after I arrived. 

 There was something about having a couple of pots to cook in and a whisk that heralded my arrival in Berat. No longer subject to lumpy sauces and having a large fry pan for me meant I have fully entered the city and will stay for a while. Also enjoying small jars of various local pickle delicacies such as cheese stuffed peppers and olives, removing the labels and using them for spice containers instead of sprinkling cumin etc from plastic bags is also a sign I am now a resident of this charming city. 

I walk everywhere, rarely taking the local buses, so I observe quite a bit. It is hard to put my observations into a cohesive essay following the rules of grammar and language, hence the title of this segment. 

I have come to the conclusion that Albania is like an artichoke heart. We were told during our training that Albania is like an onion, with many layers to be peeled. But I disagree, peeling an onion means many tears coupled with the ultimate outcome of nothing but a hollow interior. To me the artichoke heart is more descriptive of this beautiful country and her people: a flower yet to bloom, tough outer leaves with creamy delicious inner coating leading to the soft inner heart.

So here are my random observations……..

Albanians are adept and stacking things on cars, vespas and bikes. One can see cars with hay bales piled on the roof, and sticking out of the windows. No red flags necessary here, and miraculously everything arrives at the destination intact.

Local pizza delivery is a cooler in an egg cart strapped to the back of a Vespa, and I can report the pizza is fresh, hot and delicious, delivered in a timely manner.

Everyone is extremely observant. Each and every time I take out my camera to capture a particularly amusing and interesting phenomena, like a man riding a bike with a 5 foot wide - three foot tall coil of plastic piping surrounding him like an inner tube, I get yelled at by someone who then shakes their fingers “no.” I am not sure if these images are part of national security and forbidden to tourists, therefore the prohibition on preserving them on film,  but it is interesting to me that I will be yelled at by someone in a third story window or across the street, once across the river to not take a picture of an amusing event. This does not happen if I am taking a picture of say, the mountains or some flowers. I must say I am missing a lot of really great shots, but I comply because I want to be seen as a good guest in the country.

I am constantly being asked how I like Berat, by complete strangers, everywhere I go. I guess my hat, sunglasses and purple tennis shoes with bright pink laces are a dead give away that I am not from here. Especially the shoes, my ankles simply can not do anything but flats and tennis shoes on the cobblestone roads, while the women of Berat sport stilettos and nimbly scale the crevices. I may never “belong” here, oh well.

The second most common question I get, again from random complete strangers on the street is, if I am Orthodox pronounced “or -to- dox.” I guess it is in my eyes or something, since I come from a long line of Orthodox priests. In fact my name should be Popov (which in Bulgarian and Macedonian means priest) but the American immigration agents on Ellis Island in 1914 told my grandfather his name was too long and erased the Popov, leaving just the Georgieff. Maybe the people in Berat can see my original name hovering above me when I stop to admire one of the many beautiful churches here.

I have discovered the primitive Albanian internet: Gushas (Grandmas) with telephones. It could also be called the primitive Albanian GPS (Gusha Positioning System) My 70 something house mother reports to me on a regular basis, my whereabouts at the end of the day. Various friends  are obviously informing her on my activities. So far I have been told of my swatting away bees while shopping for fruit, the various places I purchase things. These reports are always followed by helpful suggestions on cheaper alternatives. In the Peace Corps, there is special attention paid to safety and security, we receive hours and hours of trainings and when we are placed at our permanent site, we have to fill out forms identifying the location of hospitals, police stations and give our coordinates so that in case of an emergency the Peace Corps can locate us. I think this could be simplified by giving the phone numbers of the local Gushas, because they obviously know where everyone is at all times.

Tow trucks seem non-existent here, but cars joined with ropes going the speed limit are everywhere.

The Berat version of Jiffy Lube, while you wait on the road oil changes

Albanians make use of unusual spaces. A small cave in the Castle Mountain has an oil change shop in it. This is on a blind curve of the main two lane road that goes in and out of the city. The doors periodically open, and I watch as customers get oil changes on the street, with a miraculous absence of car crashes during the process.

Albanians do not like making change. I am not sure how the larger markets do their cash drawers at the end of the day. In the States we would get fired for discrepancies. The unit of money is the Lek, which is around 120 Lek to the Dollar. Usually items cost in units of ten or a hundred, meaning stuff costs 50 Lek or 200 Lek. Every once in a while, if one is purchasing according to a weight, say cheese or fruit, the price ends in a number other than zero. If you offer to make the difference with a 5 Lek coin, the sales person refuses and the customer usually benefits with a “ska zha” meaning “it’s nothing.” The independent sellers in small stores and fruit stands, if you do not have small or exact change, simply tell you “nesser” meaning, you can bring the 50 or 70 Lek by tomorrow. So if your bill is 270 Lek, and  all you have a 200 and a 1000 bill, the seller simply takes the 200 bill and tells you to come back tomorrow with the 70 Lek. This customer always comes back.

My air conditioning system

A combination of climate change and traditional Balkan summers is making Berat extremely hot. There are few places that offer air conditioning. The situation has created my own version of low tech cooling systems. In a reverse to the hot water bottle practice, I am freezing bottles of water and putting them in the bed with me. It works like a charm, and I have burnt little ozone, just from the fridge.

I am doing my part to keep the local mosquito population well fed. I feel almost a sexual pleasure when I kill one. They are completely brazen and seem to be immune to my bug repellent spray. I am wondering if they are listening in on the Gushas with phones and spread the word as to new and different tasting residents to feast upon. I was sitting next to one of my Summer Camp children while  she was coloring on the front porch of the school. I successfully swatted a mosquito during it’s snack on my calf. The girl looked at me and said, “I hate them,” in perfect English. I heartily agreed in both English and Albanian. I have no compassion for mosquitoes and fail to see the purpose of them.

Trying to cook for myself is like being on an endless scavenger hunt. One can find almost anything one needs, you just have to “hunt.” Antonio and I are constantly reporting to one another on sightings of things like rolls, condiments, black beans and cheeses other than Feta.

Measurements are also a mystery to me here. Besides everything being in metric, the concept of measuring cups and spoons seems to be unnecessary for the cooks of Albania. They obviously simply know things and can measure out without the crude assistance of gadgets, because the food is always perfect. I have yet to master the baking powder conundrum, and some of my baked goods have been rather dense as a result. I am also being confounded by the Celsius ovens, even with the conversion site on Google, I am still not quite getting it.

My host family lives on the side of the Castle mountain. The garden is this terraced miracle, lush with numerous fruit trees, grape arbors, flowers, herbs and various vegetables. The most entertaining for me personally is what I am calling "air squash" They are taking vertical gardening to a whole new level by growing pumpkins ( I am told the buyrek from these is especially delicious) and large squashes mid air. As with most things in Albania, I will simply wait and see how it is done. 

I miss cilantro.

Other than mosquitoes, I am quite captivated by the insects here in Berat. Some exquisite wasps, bees, beetles and something I can barely describe, a dragon fly grass hopper sort of creature, along with ants that are so different from what I am used to, simply mesmerize me. The butterflies are also quite ubiquitous and delightful.

The word for to sell or for sale is "shitet" which amuses me to no end. I found that near my house, "shitet control" is located. Yes it is juvenile but I find it amusing, yet oddly comforting that someone is at least trying to control, well you know..........

Teaching Aids for Summer Camp

Today at Summer Camp, we did an exercise on the Fibonacci Sequence. For you non math geeks, this is a sequence that describes how nature expresses herself, from the spiral on a human head to DNA to the galaxies. It is also the foundation for what is called the Golden Ratio, which is a measurement found in great works of art and architecture. We drew on graph paper the sequence, found the spiral and then went into the park looking at how different plants, trees and flowers had spirals or “spiralee” as it is called in Albanian. As we went into the rose garden to look at how roses spiral, we got yelled at from a gardener across the street to not pick the flowers, and the children promptly informed him, yelling at him across the street, that we were looking for “spiralees” This satisfied the gardener, who relaxed and continued watering his lawn with a hose (another random observation, no sprinklers here, only men and women with hoses) This activity of searching for spirals seemed to completely captivate the group of children I was with, they kept bringing me examples of spirals (Leaves, grass, stems) or grabbing my hand so they could show me a discovery of a spiral. 

Fibonacci Sequence Craft 

When we came back to the school yard, some of the children continued to draw on the graph paper the Fibonacci Sequence. The security guard, a sweet elderly man who is basically the gate keeper for the school yard, came by to look at what we were doing, since we were coloring on the cool marble steps, the school  building being too hot for our tastes. The guard informed me after observing our drawings, that Berat is designed on the sequence, the Golden Ratio. This geek (me) feels completely rich and satisfied at the mathematical correlations made manifest to the children of Tetori 22 Shkollë today. While not all the children were as into the activity as others, the ones who were, I truly feel have a new appreciation for the beauty and mystery of creation. Not bad for a woman with rudimentary language skills in a one hour lesson with graph paper and colored pencils. The guards comment was the cherry on the cake for me. A wonderful example of the artichoke heart nature of Albania that I am observing on a regular basis.

Kampet Verore

Children Preparing for Balloon Games at Summer Camp

    Sorry I haven’t written in a while. A combination of 24 hour access to the internet combined with settling in to my permanent site and conducting “Kanpet Verore” aka Summer Camp here in Berat has taken all of my time. It is also hard to know exactly what to write, mainly because every day is a kaleidoscope of experiences on every level imaginable. What to point out without omitting something else. In a word; magic. I feel like I am in this magical existence where I imagine something and it comes to fruition in the most unexpected ways.

Last Day of School Party 

My primary assignment is at what are called Nine Year Schools, or as the locals call them - Shkolla 9 Veçare. As this years Peace Corps Volunteers in Albania arrived at their permanent site in mid May, it is a unique time to try to integrate into the community. After the coldest Winter in 30 years, Spring was more anticipated than ever. Longer warmer days coupled with end of the year jitters produced amusing scenarios as I watched the teachers try to contain their students as they were all counting the days to summer vacation. Testing, graduation and all that goes with end of year planning for the next school year filled the days. I was graciously introduced to all the classes, participated in a few impromptu nutrition lessons, and included in all activities pertaining to the teachers.

One of the new initiatives Albania is introducing to her citizens is the concept of community centers. In some towns, there is a separate building, in others the 9 Year Schools are assigned. In essence the centers are to provide a place for locals to educate themselves on various issues. The Center is to have 10 hours per week after school sessions available for community activities. My director went off to Tirana to participate in a nation wide training for this initiative and brought back the directive from the Ministry of Education to share with the teachers as they were struggling to review text books, test children and submit lesson plans for the coming year. To say it was not enthusiastically received is a bit of an understatement. But since my school has a volunteer, the initiative is not as overwhelming as it could be.

I submitted my plan for the coming school year, lesson suggestions for health classes along with taste and food education. I also submitted plans for several clubs I would like to lead at the school. The biggest project so far has been the Summer Camps. Personally, I wanted to physically veg this Summer, work on language and try to escape the heat dome that is Berat proper. My director is enthusiastic about the school being a community center, and asked if I could do Summer camps from 8 - 10 am daily because at 10:15 am the heat descends like a thick unpleasant blanket, suffocating man and beast. My site mate Antonio’s High School had plans more in tune with mine, meaning they told him not to worry and just relax over the Summer and get to work in September. I invited him to participate in my Summer Camps, and much to our mutual delight, he has been an integral part of the success of the initiative.

Simon Says in English

The first day of camp we had two children, who got our undivided attention in Frisbee instruction and were treated to ice cream due to their exclusive participation. The next day, we had about 50 children and I honestly do not know what I would have done had Antonio not been there. I planned a lesson in personal hygiene, all in Albanian mind you, complete with scenarios, an activity and such. We plowed through that in about 20 minutes. Antonio picked up the slack with various games, and the children seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. Since our second day, we consistently have between 20 and 40 children of various ages, all darling and all quite happy to do basically anything we ask them.

Taste Education

Antonio completed three years of teaching English in Japan before coming to the Peace Corps. It is fun watching him do English games with the children. It is also interesting to watch the children improve in Frisbee through the camps. I am preparing to launch a Slow Food initiative through the school, so the children are being exposed to taste education. One of the exercises was to have different tasting liquids for them to evaluate. Sweet, salty, sour, spicy and bitter liquids with labels to taste and report on. What I found most interesting is that they all liked bitter (it was pure cocoa powder in water) I do not think American children would like that flavor, but Albania has been a coffee culture long before the Starbucks phenomena, and Albanians do not drink the watered down flavored concoctions like Americans do, they drink what I would call coffee ground paste. We will have a lesson with a local bee keeper on honey, a session with a group I discovered at a cherry festival in a village outside of Berat (Women in Sustainable Agriculture) and a session on Ice Cream.

Drawing Leaves for Science Camp

During our Science camp, I had the children sit in the park in front of the library and draw leaves. One of the older girls told me during the exercise “Nature is so beautiful.” Today we had mostly games, ending in the very popular water balloon toss. It is so warm, that even if the children get wet, they dry off pretty quickly. I am so deeply touched by the beauty of the children. The youngest boys are particularly darling, and quite adept at the games we spring on them. My personal favorite is crab soccer where the children have to navigate on their hands and feet, and scooch on their bums while trying to make goals. I physically could not do this, but they took it in “stride.” I was laughing so hard at the sight, one of the children told me I would hurt my head by laughing to long. I must say, experiencing pure joy in the regular doses with these children is something I have missed in my life, and I am curious what I will do to fill this void when my service is over.

On Monday of next week, a national holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan means that camp is cancelled. It has been interesting witnessing Ramadan closely, the cafes are not as crowded and there seems to be a lot of activity after the sun sets near the Mosque by my flat. I would say that what I am experiencing here in term of inter religious coexistence is not “toleration.” It is mutual admiration and support. As the world seems to blow up with daily terror attacks on various houses of worship or in the name of some sort of religion, I am only aware of this because I see things on American or British news sites. On the Albanian evening news, we see the troubles, but they seem distant and actually insane. 

People are more interested in the upcoming elections here. The practice of having a six week election season I personally think is brilliant. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we maintain a strict code of non political engagement. We can not attend political rallies, and have a nationwide “stand down” during the election weekend. This means we are not to travel and basically are to stay in our homes during the entire election weekend. I have invited Antonio to stay with me to make stuffed grape leaves, buyrek and anything else we can think of to pass the time. As my flat is in the midst of a terraced garden over looking the local mountains, it will not seem like we are under house arrest.

One of my Peace Corps Albanian language teachers is working for the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe. This is the group one hears about when it comes to monitoring elections. She is helping to translate for international monitors in Elbasan and Tirana. The English teacher at my school is the translator and county director for Berat. He introduced me to the OSCE director who is a retired US Army Colonel who was also involved as a military advisor to the Albanian government during the aftermath of the governmental collapse in the late 90’s. The Colonel was a veteran of 16 international election monitoring assignments. It is fascinating to listen to these people talk about what goes on in terms of election monitoring. They coordinate with local police, hospitals, the Red Cross, municipalities and basically prepare for worst case scenarios. Democracy it seems is in direct conflict with the quest for power. The Colonel feels confident that the elections will be fair, but was visibly dismayed over the antics in the United States. We were having the most delightful and informative conversation until the US was brought up, his face immediately fell and all he said after shaking his head was that the administration was not uniting our people. As a career Army officer who has used his retirement to help emerging democracies have free and fair elections, I took his sentiment to heart.

Albania, like all Balkan countries, is trying to establish itself as a tourist destination. One aspect of this is developing its gastronomic offerings. I attended a first ever Cherry Festival in one of the small villages outside of Berat. Cherries are bursting forth everywhere filling the markets and keeping women busy in terms of making jam and preserves. The festival I attended was complete with an Albanian style barbecue, local handcrafts, stalls with raki, cherry preserves and olive oil. I met the director of Women in Sustainable Agriculture, whom I feel will be an invaluable counterpart in many of the initiatives I would like to launch. My personal favorite image was watching Mickey Mouse dance traditional Albanian circle dances, a sign of the mixing of local heritage with global media. 

I am working on several projects in addition to Summer Camp. I hope to initiate monthly health fairs at the school community center with the local hospital and Red Cross chapter. There are plans to open a community garden in the Castle, and I am currently gathering together counterparts through Slow Food in Albania, Women in Sustainable Agriculture, the Culinary School in Berat, my school and Antonio's school for this project. It will be interesting to see if the Edible School Yard can be spread to Albania. I feel it will.

My daily commute

A friend asked me what I do every day. So far, I seem to as I have for decades, wake before the sun, prepare for the day, walk down a cobble stoned road to a river walk along the castle walls to my school. I either work with the children or network with teachers and community members. I then walk back home, picking up produce at various vendors along the way, return to my flat, reading, writing and doing basic household chores. I top the evening off by watching Indian soap operas and the news with my host family. I exchange different food items with them and they with me. I managed to make some banana bread the other day, and am treated every once in a while to some sort of stew, soup or vegetable dish. My house mom is a darling and typical Albanian grandma who thinks she is helping me by re-arranging my clothing and shoes in my closets. I am told that I am being watched in town and given critiques on where I choose to buy produce and grocery items as she has friends who seem to be watching my every move in town. I am glad I have no vices, for I am sure they would be reported immediately. I often fall asleep in the afternoons due to the extreme heat. It will be interesting in this era of climate change how hot and cold the seasons will be during my tenure. My host mom rearranged my furniture putting my table out on the deck. This allows me to set outside and enjoy the nightly sunsets which I am sure were the inspiration for Maxfield Parish paintings. In the evenings, I hear the call to prayers throughout the night from the Mosque, at other times I can hear Church bells.

Clouds Gather near my flat

I miss my parents and the herb cilantro, the latter I am sure would simply add so much to local salads and sauces, but other than that I feel very at home here. Especially now that it is hot, feels just like home in so many ways, but at least there isn't the smog. It amuses me that I was placed in the hottest city in all of Albania, but I have resigned myself to being hot since I can not seem to escape the sensation no matter where I move in the world. The daily contact with the children fills my heart to the brim so that loneliness is not an issue. I am trying to improve my language so that I can be more conversant, but many of the children are fluent in English. 

So the Summer is off to a lovely start. I hope this Solstice is a beginning of a season of enjoyment and reflection for all. 

The Door to My Secret Garden

Week One of Permanent Assignment

After a leisurely couple of days where I took several naps in the mornings and the afternoons, I figured out how to turn on the water for the shower, don my one and only professional looking out fit, put my hair up and walked down the white cobblestone road to meet the school director for my first day at my assigned school. It was a lovely warm late spring day and I was up for just about anything.

The day before I was promised tea at the castle. There is something inherent in European Women’s DNA that enables them to walk on cobblestone in any sort of shoe, obviously their ankle ligaments are incredibly strong, as they never seem to trip or wobble in the least whilst traversing what I am experiencing as a sprained ankle mine field. For our tea at the castle outing, my 70 something host mother was decked out in a skirt with nylons and slip on cork soled sandals with a three inch heel. The “walk” to the castle rivaled my climb of Maccu Picu, only this time I and these lovely senior citizens in front of me were scaling boulders and walking along what was once stone fences that lined long gone roads with 20 foot drops on either side. They gently teased me, calling me a “ballerina” as I was walking on stone precipices with my arms outstretched as I would if I was on a high wire.

The castle is a medieval wonder, a UN World Heritage site complete with a maze of steep slippery shiny white stone roads and steps. My hosts told me that at one time there were hundreds of churches and shrines within the walls. As I tried desperately not to twist my ankles or slide on the slick surfaces, I wondered exactly how people in the middle ages did anything on these slippery things, especially when fighting off enemies in full armour and soft leather moccasin type shoes. The climb was worth it in that the view was simply spectacular, with a full panorama of the surrounding mountains, the old city, the river Osma and I could even see my school.

Something that never ceases to amaze and amuse me is how certain types of personalities are in certain types of jobs, and those “types” seem to be universal. Police for example, are very similar in demeanor everywhere I go , swaggering hyper masculine men and very rigid humourless women with deep voices. Similar characters are found around the world in sales people, secretaries, mechanics, construction workers, cab drivers, truck drivers and teachers. I was introduced to the teachers at my school, and taken to meet the school superintendent. His demeanor I found similar in any school official I have ever encountered, professional, in charge and by the book in terms of dealing with his underlings. Berat, due to its economic base of tourism, has the resources to put into both infrastructure in the city as well as schools. I was assured if there was anything I needed to simply call. 

I have come to the conclusion that everyone in the Balkans has mixed DNA, particularly between the Greeks, Macedonians, Bulgarians, Kosovarans and Albanians. I think (but don’t tell them this,) they are all basically from the same tribes that migrated about the area for thousands of years. Everyone thinks that the other nations land is their land because at some point in the last 1,500 years it was actually. Due to the Ottoman occupation, there is also some of that blood mixed in the pool as well. When I looked at the faces in front of me, I saw the faces of my relatives and cousins both in America and in Macedonia, Bulgaria and Greece. 

The children at the school are darling and look like children from anywhere in the US, with their Disney tee shirts and back packs. Best tee shirt of the day award goes to a 6^th grade girl wearing a black tee with bold white letters proclaiming “I am not a morning person.” I watched the children on the playground bicker and tease one another, as well as play and joke. With the older children, one could see the flirting going on amongst the teens. Some of the teachers grabbed their students or children to talk to me in English, one 9^th grader in particular expressed with all the drama and idealism that is suitable for her age, how she tried to be positive about life, but she was disappointed by so many things, so she has gone back to expecting the worst in everything. I told her that this outlook was very Albanian, she agreed. She wants to be a doctor, and when she found out I was an acupuncturist, that was also of great interest. I told her of my desire to start a club for girls who wish to be in the health sciences, and she told me that it “probably was going to be very interesting to other people.” She promised to tell her friends, and she said there might be “a lot of people interested in such a club.”

The school has so many children that they have to split the day so there are enough class rooms for everyone. In one promotional video I watched during training, it proclaimed that Albania had the youngest population in all of Europe, as I see all the children in this and other schools within Berat, I appreciated the validity of the statistic. The older children attend in the morning, and the younger children attend in the afternoon. After I was introduced to the afternoon teachers, the director, the school secretary and one of the teachers took me to lunch. I met their children, one of whom was quite angry when his mother would not buy him ice cream. Again, this behavior is not limited to Albania, and the look on the mothers face as she tried to deflect his rage while holding firm against junk food was quite familiar indeed. 

The school is beautiful, very clean and nicely decorated. I am curious as to how I will be serving, but I have found that when one is in the Balkans, you just go with it instead of having an agenda. Things always work out as they should, never how you envisioned, and often better than you had imagined. When I was in Russia, I learned there was not a word for “goal” which made for great cultural misunderstandings between the east and west especially in terms of business. The journey and the exchanges along the way were more important for the Russians, while the Americans were all about outcomes. The Balkans are in the middle, so I am not sure where they are on this continuum.

There are three directors at my school. The head mistress, Albana, is young and extremely competent and professional. In our training we were warned that it might take a while to integrate into the community but to be patient. I will not be experiencing this as Albana basically took charge of the situation and has a complete grasp of what it means to have a Peace Corps Volunteer. I sat in on meetings where she was setting out strategy for me to meet the teachers, the students and set up a schedule. My counterpart Yilka is a biology teacher. She looks like my cousin Katherine who is the Dean of the Chemistry Department at Cal State San Marcos. Yilka has a great sense of humor, and I can tell she has a very soft heart. She introduced me to 18 classes of children today, dutifully telling each class that I was a volunteer from Peace Corps, that I would be with the school for two years, and pronounced my career title better than I have been doing, which is probably why no one to this point understood what I do. The youngest grades were the most darling, with the children quite interested in where I was from, and telling me I needed to stay for three years, not just two. Of course they are expecting non stop entertainment and miracles for Summer activities, as I am an American capable of producing such things. One child asked if I was going to take them swimming.

The day was completed with my observing two biology classes for different grades where the subject was on recycling. Shum interasant. I am curious, while the children were very engaged in the subject, how much they can put into practice. I was invited to have some cake with my host “parents” this evening, and was able to catch up on the news. One segment showed some public works employees fishing trash out of a river, with the segment featuring the minister of tourism who was pointing out that tourists do not want to experience the great outdoors of Albania when there is trash everywhere (my interpretation and translation, but you can get the gist of the segment). I remember a few weeks ago seeing the Prime Minister on the news addressing a crowd of people in front of a large industrial plant that was going to be a recycling center. 

Albania is truly one of the most breathtakingly beautiful places I have ever been, since I have been on four continents, that is saying something. The mountains are stunning. So majestic and a bit wild in their unhindered grandeur. They almost have the same mystic as the Andes to be honest. Here in Berat, the natural beauty is complemented with unique architecture. Not only are there medieval buildings, there are churches and mosques everywhere. It seems as if the people are really trying to make things better here, but the corruption in Albania as a whole, not here in particular. is what drives the best and the brightest away. The issue is how to respect people’s desires and encourage them to be their best, but inspire them to transform what they have into something amazing. 

To me, a people who speak this incredibly complex and difficult language with ease must be extremely intelligent. They get clitics and use them casually for goodness sakes. To have endured what they have endured for a thousand years must also have affected them deeply. But the planet simply has no where else to go to for those seeking a better life, and we are going to have to learn how to make the most of where we are instead of constantly dreaming that some other place has the answers, the fulfillment of our desires. The world is in an uproar with those fleeing war and environmental catastrophe and not willing to let such refugees in. For people who want to make more money, when they live in a lush productive land with adequate water, land for food and room (since everyone keeps leaving) that has excellent possibilities, it is less urgent, in fact it actually is against their better interests considering the turmoil that surrounds them. 15,000 Albanians self deported from Germany last year mainly because they could see the writing on the wall. 

When I witness the beauty of both the natural and man made world here, see the bright and engaged children eager to learn, and witness the deep commitment that the Albanians have towards family and friendship, I honestly do not think that moving to America is what they think it will be. Especially with the racist hateful US regime giving carte blanche for border patrol agents to abuse women and children, thugs to oppress the vulnerable and clamping down on all immigration, now is not the time to dream of America as the destination for anything.  I hope to convey to them on some level that they have something extremely valuable here which could be the envy of the world if they could invest their hearts, souls and dreams in this incredible land instead of focusing on leaving for foreign shores.

The Next Step

I am now an official Peace Corps Volunteer, I signed the oath, got the pin and was directed to where I will be spending the next two years serving in the best capacity I can within my assigned community. I am curious if the massive fatigue will ever leave now that I am official, or it will simply increase. I was not alone in this feeling. After the swearing in, the volunteers were set free for several hours while our Albanian counterparts were involved in workshops to help them orient themselves to having Americans in their midst. Everyone, regardless of age, complained about how exhausted they were feeling and the desire to just go to bed instead of gearing up with limited language capacity to meet new people.

With the impending protests and gay pride parade in Tirana, the staff had to reorient the entire training they had spent months preparing so the volunteers and counterparts could leave before the onslaught that had the potential to become violent. I felt sorry for the staff, as their stress in managing this entire experience was more tiring than what we volunteers were feeling. Designing and executing such a project is more time consuming than the volunteer obligations of pre service training. Not only was the staff responsible for conducting the trainings and logistics, they also had to deal with the inevitable events that go along with managing humans in a foreign country. Their charges are not familiar with how to deal with challenges on a daily basis. Lost phones, illnesses, personality clashes, security issues and in one case a volunteer injuring himself requiring an airlift back to the states for surgery were mixed in with trying to secure housing and assignments for 41 people. This was no small feat, because the personality and skills of the volunteers are incorporated with trying to find suitable housing and counterparts. In some instances everything is set into motion after months of discussions, in person meetings, inspections of housing options, negotiations and such only to fall apart at the last minute, causing the staff to scramble for alternatives. 

Our counterpart conference got pushed up an hour on Friday, and was shortened to basically an hour on Saturday (originally it was to be four hours) to allow us to be able to disperse in time to escape the threat of the protests. Before the meeting, I was in the hotel lobby leisurely trying to post my last blog entry after breakfast, and I was gently told by one of the trainers that I had 10 minutes to check out of my room and take all of my luggage downstairs to a pre assigned room for temporary storage. I was asked to please spread the word. I thought to myself, actually no, I will not be checking out in 10 minutes, it is logistically impossible to get 41 people dispersed on four floors of a small hotel to pack up, check out and assemble massive amounts of luggage to a hotel lobby in one teensy elevator in 10 minutes. I am not refusing the order, sorry, I simply can’t do that, nothing personal, but it is just not going to happen. 

I thought it better to keep this brilliant insight to myself as the trainer looked quite exhausted, and I am sure she was just as flabbergasted by the change in the schedule as I. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I commandeered the one and only luggage cart in the entire hotel to expedite the process, much to the delight of my room mate, who told me I never looked as beautiful as I did when entering the room with the cart. We piled on our numerous bags and such, and she attempted to get the loaded cart to the lobby while I checked us out of the hotel. As you can imagine it was a mad house and the line for the elevator was massive. In case you are wondering, no, we did not check out and assemble our luggage in 10 minutes as I had silently predicted.

I had never heard my health sector director speak as fast as she did in the next 45 minutes as she did during the abbreviated session. I was actually impressed with the speed that she was able to get through the material in so little time, especially since I never heard her pause for a breath. The volunteers and counterparts were supposed to plan our first few months together in about 15 minutes during this segment. I tried to introduce the concept of Slow Food in Schools, the class exchange program and the idea of a health club. I am also interested in having an art and science either club or classes where the children are invited to observe nature and make art inspired by their observations. The session had a very detailed plan of action as a template for our integration. 

I am actually quite surprised at my level of Albanian language skills, while rudimentary at best, I am able to convey basic thoughts, speak simple sentences and understand things. The vocabulary has finally started the descent into the gray matter, it took a while but it has started. The health sector director, as I said, was speaking nonstop at a rapid pace, very important directions for the counterparts. When I say rapid, I am not sure if she actually finished a sentence or when the sentence ended, it was sort of like a stream of consciousness that went on for ever, and I understood……. “Please take the volunteer to register with the police in the first few days after their arrival” Oh my god, I understood……..  “Please make a plan for your first few months and send me a copy of your ideas in the first month.” Oh my god, another sentence comprehended…….. My delight was not shared by others, some of which were not paying attention and again, I felt really sorry for the sector trainers who were obviously quite frustrated by having to cut their carefully planned sessions by 2/3rds. I am sure they were very unhappy with both the Democrats and the Homosexuals for planning their events on the last day of our training, but what can you do? Freedom of expression obviously had precedence, much to the complete inconvenience of us all and at great expense to the tax payers of Tirana who had to pay overtime to legions of police.

And then the moment arrived, our documents were passed out, and we were instructed to get out of Tirana as fast as possible. I was absolutely dreading the thought of navigating across Tirana in the heat with all my heavy luggage, a sleeping bag and water filter. My counterpart and site mate informed me right at the end of our meeting that the professor from the High School at our site had a car and was going to drive our luggage and deliver it to my home stay. I almost wet my pants with relief, it was like the Angel of luggage transportation appeared on cue and answered my fervent prayers for some sort of solution. I loaded up my bags in the car, said good bye and my counterparts and I caught the city bus to the regional bus station and boarded a “Berat” bus with ease. Some of it actually was familiar in parts from the confused sprint we had “practiced” the week before. 

It is amazing how wonderful life is when you are not carrying 150 pounds of luggage, a very profound insight on many levels actually, almost tee shirt, self help book and bumper sticker worthy slogan if you think about it. Since it was in the low 90’s in Tirana and a bit muggy, I can not tell you the pure joy I experienced over NOT having to make that last push with three large bags, a sleeping bag and water filter. Since I plan to give away most of what I am carrying now, it was bliss knowing I will NEVER have to do this again EVER (lug bags etc.) Most of my fellow volunteers did not have it so easy, and I had great compassion watching them try to move heavy back packs and such through the hot muggy city streets.

On the way to Berat, the school director showed me many pictures on her phone of the different activities of the children. It seems as if I have been placed in one of the higher achieving schools in the country. I also learned from here that there is a project in Berat called (in English) “You Are What You Eat.” I hope to connect with this organization in terms of implementing some sort of nutrition program. I had traveled some of the road before on my shadow visit, and it was as interesting and beautiful as before, less mountainous, but still presenting the great contrasts that is the reality of Albania. One sees a computer or appliance shop next to an open field where a shepherd is navigating his flock of sheep, a new mercedes bypassing a donkey laden with firewood, bill boards promoting various expensive consumer goods with Roma beneath them begging for money and food. These are a few examples of what I witnessed on the road to the next phase of my service. 

We arrived at the bus station and caught a city bus to the center of town. After a while it then appeared, the UN World Heritage Site worthy architecture of this beautiful medieval town, the town of a thousand windows as it is called here. The other bit of information I was told was that Berat is the second most beautiful city in Europe. I could not seem to get at what was the first, I am guessing Venice. My counterparts were graciously offering to feed me lunch or walk around the city, take me shopping and such, but I felt the urgent need to meet my host family, unpack and sleep. We arrived at the stop, got off and the director pointed up to the foothills of the castle and said my house was there. Again, I silently blessed everyone I could think of that I was not having to haul luggage up these old cobble stone walkways that are on a 45 degree angle. Albanian women are famous for dressing very stylishly at all times, which means heels in terms of footware. I felt a bit sorry for my counterparts as they climbed the hill in their beautiful shoes, while my cushioned arch support sole flats were having a much easier time with the experience.

We came to the house and my host mom greeted us. I have for the last five years, kept complaining that I was wanting my happy ending after great sorrow and trial, just like in the movies thank you very much. There just had to be some sort of purpose to the endless ordeals that kept getting worse by the week in spite of many valiant efforts to switch directions, there had to be something to point to and say, see, all that (fill in the blank with awful event) and look at where you are now! Today, I got my happy ending. I feel like I am staying in a boutique B&B on the side of a mountain in a medieval fairytale setting. It is just beautiful, a garden terraced home with a large tile deck overlooking the river, part of the old city and the mountains. One can walk to the castle from here. I feel like I am living out the Balkan version of Eat Pray Love, only the love part is the adoration from the children that warms my heart. 

The couple I will be staying with is very warm and kind, the mother actually reminds me of one of my now deceased aunts in demeanour and looks. She is always telling me to be careful when I climb the stairs linking the terrace gardens and the floors of the house. When she took me to a local cafe for tea, she produced a bottle of hand sanitizer for both of us to utilize before the beverages arrived, telling me that when you are on the buses, you pick up a lot of germs. The sanitizer she told me was from Greece, and was rose scented. 

I have a sit down toilette, called French in these areas, which means I will, well, be able to sit instead of squat, and is such a liberating feeling considering my lack of thigh muscle strength let me tell you! I have my own kitchen, a porch and my own bathroom. The absolute cherry on the cake is I have NO TELEVISION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Albanians are much like Americans in that they are constantly watching TV. While I have learned language and such by watching TV with my first host family, I really dislike the constant noise of the darn thing, both here and in the states. When I live as I please, I do not have a TV, and do arcane things like read books, listen to music and write. I also am able to, you know, think, when not being inundated with ads and the inane nature of what is on the tube both here and in the states. Sometimes it is nice to be ignorant of all the thought engineering enabling mass consumerism proclaimed by television. 

I was able to share pleasantries with the couple, Sara and Abraham, give them their gifts of dates from California as well as a beautiful wall calendar with pictures of my home state. I unpacked for real this time, put things in drawers and closets and no longer have to rummage through bags to find whatever because I could not put it away, and be a real person for the first time in years to be honest.

After a nap where I felt like I had been in a mini coma, Sara came up to my flat with Chai Mali or Mountain Tea which is the word for the local wild crafted herb tea where ever one is in Albania. Sometimes it is a sage tea, other times it is a local flower or mint. We sat on the deck sipping tea and enjoying the sunset. She offered me supper, which I declined, and then offered me some yogurt, which I accepted. I had a left over muffin from lunch that I enjoyed with my “kos” which is the Albanian equivalent of Keifer, and simply relished in the silence of being alone.

Tomorrow, we go shopping to the local Pazaar, and she also wants to take me to the Castle for tea. Okey dokey, I can fit that into my schedule. I will be going to my assigned school on Monday and begin the process of integrating into the program there. Abraham has promised to get internet hooked up for me sometime next week. I learned that there is a music High School at the foot of the hill where my house is, I wonder if I could connect it with the Orange County High School for the Arts. The possibilities are endless. I told Sara after she complemented me on my Albanian, that I need to practice over the summer to be more fluent. That is my goal. That and loosing quite a bit of weight the last year of stress layered on my body. One of my site mates, Antonio, and I hope to coordinate on some projects. I have yet to meet the two volunteers that are from Class 19. Antonio and I are to meet with the local Girl Scout Troupe to discuss possibilities. 

It is so wonderful to not be freezing all the time. I know the heat is coming, but for now, I am truly enjoying not being really cold every minute of the day and night. I am contemplating purchasing an air mattress so I can sleep on the veranda when it gets to the promised 110 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer. I chose Albania mainly to not be hot, oh well, the heat will be a small price to pay for this location and situation. Some of the northern sites only get up to the 50’s during the summer. Last year was the coldest winter in 30 years, some of the more rural areas had no water or electricity for almost two months in the depth of the cold spell, forcing schools to close due to the freezing temperatures. If the volunteer had no wood stove, it meant living in their down sleeping bags. 

All in all, I feel truly blessed, and hope to enjoy my time here as much as possible. I am also hoping that this happy ending to a very long stretch of unhappy occurrences for ever so long, will be a start to a continuous happy beginnings and a middle for the time being.