Traversing through Orikum (*new post)

I went to Orikum today to explore its tourism potential with Kacey. We found out about a centuries old church and wanted to explore how to get there so that we can promote Orikum's (and, Orikum being in the state of Vlore, Vlore's) cultural and historical heritage and showcase its non-beach assets.

Though we didn't know exactly where it was, were roughly aware of the direction. We set off due west and asked on the way.

As the town faded we saw more shepherds and dogs. Donkeys were grazing and the path was peaceful. The dirt road was quiet as people farmed, stayed inside and generally kept to themselves. However, they were quite helpful when asked directions, clearly excited that someone, tourists non the less, were interested in venturing out.

We crossed a stream with rocks laid out for passing. The shrub grew taller and more scratchy. We spotted the church in the distance, standing alone, its simplistic, ceremonious white forms emerging from the green bush. Lacking a defined path from the stream to the church, I realized that my navy shorts were no match for the tall brush and decided to stop at the brush. While I stopped I decided to fix the path, getting my exercise the very old fashioned way: by moving stones.

Kacey was determined to forge on, and she did. Her strength and determination did not let the brush get her as she pushed all the way to the church. The insides, though slightly neglected were beautiful.


She deposited a bouquet she had brought in remembrance and enjoyed the quiet solitude.

Walking back we passed a few fisherman and discussed the church's promise. We brainstormed different restoration grants and possible sustainable projects that could highlight this unknown yet powerful gem. So immersed we were that I didn't notice the pack of 3 very hungry attack dogs on the path. Not stray dogs, these dogs were meant to attack. Fear seeping forth from me, both visibly and inside. Even Kacey, a dog lover to the end, was fearful. The dogs came closer and I literally feared for my life. The story of the women being eaten to death in San Fran by her horribly bigoted neighbors came to mind. As the approached within 3 feet I think I started shaking. Precisely at that moment their owner came, screamed at them, and hit them ferociously with a stick. He apologized to us, and we walked on.

Not having much personal dog experience (my mother is deathly allergic so it wasn't an option growing up) I asked Kacey if we had in fact been in true danger. She asked me if I could handle the truth, which I could. Yes, she said, yes we had been.

We made a note that in addition to building a path and marking the church we'd have to discuss the attack dogs as other persons might not be as lucky.

Day in The Life

Woke up, went to the post office on the way to work, the post office lady well acquainted with me know just shook her head no upon seeing me and headed to the Bashkia.

After observing Eliona for a while to see what needed to be done, chatted with Niko- the head of the Regional Environmental Agency and headed down the the Urban Planning office to work.

Rushed home from work to work out to a video for 40 minutes, showed and headed out for coffee, or in my case sparkling water, with a friend from the information center and then pizza with some girls I know from the Bashkia. That, good readers of my blog, is a day in the life. Not, I fear, much different from my life in New York (toiling in an office, working out, and then enjoying dinner and great conversation with girlfriends). Good? Bad? Dunno. Similar and comforting yes.

Korca

Wow. The Great Korca Beer Fest. Or should I say the Festa e Birres. It was fabulous but not without its scary parts. I left for Korca on Friday with Stephan- an Austrian social worker who was surfing my couch. 6 very sweaty, sticky, smelly hours later we arrived to a cool Korca which was shaking off the rain. As we wondered down to the festival site, we wondered to ourselves where were all the people. We arrived to find a small damp area with the benches resting peacefully on the wet tables, the few occupied booths a testimony to the fact that something will or did happen. Shaken we wondered what happened to the promise of tens of thousands of people of the website? This sad site could not be those people's host.

Thankfully, to our decided relief, we were wrong- it could, would and did host the people better that either one of us could imagine. The Festa e Birres was fantastic.
At about 8, after a coffee, securing lodging in the most unhygienic place I've ever physically entered, and a fortuitous bumping into of the other volunteers for pizza dinner, we headed down to the Festa e Birres. The music was flowing, the seats were occupied, and beer was tasty and people were dancing. This continued for the next 4 hours and only got better. Wandering the fest, which seemed quite large when filled with people, sounds and food, I came across the hokey pokey. Immensely impressed at the children's entertainment and the fest, I was also emotional. I couldn't remember the last time I played the hokey pokey or turned myself around, but I loved it. The site of the Albanian children doing the hokey pokey is seared into me forever.

As the music changed and the time wore on more people danced. Children danced. I danced. Slowly it became time to leave. Our rathole, where I saw a used contraceptive under the bed and black footprint on my sheet, was going to close at 12. So we left. I slept in my sleeping bag despite the heat and fell asleep to the quietness of our side street.

Summertime and the Beach (*new post)

I'm posting these pictures with the explicit intention of enticing you to come visit.
The beaches here are magnificent (though pebbly- it is Europe) and the water is amazing. Also, its cheap compared to Europe or Croatia. The food is amazing, and lastly, of course, you'd get to say "I went to Albania and had the best time".

As you know Vlore is on the coast. It is the city that splits the Adriatic and Ionian seas. The drive from Vlore to south to the southern most city of Sarande is spectacular and can easily put Route 1 to shame. Mountains on the left, blue glimmering water on the right. One passes through multiple vegetative zones and even a national park with evergreens. Natural spring water from the mountains comes oozing out of every rock.

There are cafes at which you can overlook the beaches from the side of the mountains

Water Pipes

My road is totally ripped up. Big, grinding saws, the type I hated in NYC, are now greeting me in the morning and night. All of this is very good. My neighborhood is getting new water pipes. Best of all, because of various reasons, the workers are literally working until 10pm at night to get it done. Fast. The project is going much faster than any project in NYC. For some reason, the road is not blocked off, another benefit. The all to familiar habit of construction workers of placing the orange cones so far down the road that one can't even see the work for miles, is non-existent here. People simple drive all the way up the street, see the enormous CAT, giant mount of dirt and must figure out how to turn around. Luckily, they are used to it.

Placing water pipes is the first step to bringing in clean water from the mountains for people to drink. Now, I only hope that the new buildings hook into it.

Remember when you thought counting to 30 really, really , really fast was only way to measure 30 seconds?

There are about 5 children in my building. Actually, that is totally incorrect. I honestly have no idea how many children there are in my building. I think a few live on the first floor and I know a few live next door. There are about 5 that regularly play in the stairwell and right now I can see about 11 playing hide and go seek and other games outside my window.

I love it. I love hearing children outside, I love seeing the games they make up, I love the way creative ways they find to circumvent boredom and the heat. Seeing the way the run around the small gravel area outside my building reminds me of what is was like growing up in the city. City kids don't have nicely trimmed soccer fields (or they certainly didn't when I grew up in NYC), lush lawns or cute cul-de-sacs to ride their bikes on. When they are pushed out side to play, by their parents or smallness of their apartments there is no tree to climb or perfectly assembled jungle gym. They have buildings, roads, gravel, dirt, stores, parked cars and a few neglected areas that a perfect for hide a go seek. It is in this dusty hard landscape that the children of my building area scream with joy and play for hours. It was on a similar landscape, albeit with a tiny bit of grass that I also learned to play outside and make up games with my siblings and neighbors.

I remember talking to a American-Indian girl 5 years ago when I was flying back from India. She was a graduate student studying policy or development and had been in India observing, writing and researching. She told me about the impression left on her from watching children in a third world country play. On and on she went about how happy she was to see children in her country playing with that they had- a stick, a deflated ball, their feet. It didn't really matter, they figured it out. They play with things American children easily scorn and take for granted. She recalled how poverty did not stop these children and how she would never see allow her children to have more then the simplest of toys (much easier said then done).

I also remember a conversation I had while teaching at a Grade 5-8 charter school in Newark. I was standing outside during recess, watching a bunch of well-developed adult looking 8th grader girls jumprope, debating whether I should join them. This girls, who knew absolutely everything- and I do mean everything- suddenly metamorphize into children, 12 year old chidren. As I stood there, one of the teachers said to me- don't you love watching children recreate? The question, so simple, was so insightful. Yes, I do. I love watching children recreate because watching children recreate tells so much about a culture and about the children.

Yes, my 8th grades, one of whom had a child at 12, turned into girls when they played. But equally important was the fact that the only object that turned them into girls was a simple jump rope. Just as the build landscape of buildings and gravel allow my neighborhood children in Albania to play and the deflated ball in India enabled those children to play. I've never been to Africa, but I'm guessing the children there play and with toys that cost less that $2.00

So, as I look at my window at the children who are still play hide-and-go seek, one hour after I have started writing I am reminded so clearly of why I left America. Fancy plastic toys, expensive bikes and video games don't really make childhood. Children get bored on their fancy plastic toys so fast. They master the video game and need another one. And, no mater what, as long as it has brakes and 2 wheels a bike is really just a bike. I have now watched these children, aged 7-12 play with literally nothing for longer that I have watched many American children play with their barbies, radio cars, and action figures.

Why is it that we continue to believe that children are deprived or neglected in they don't have buckets of toys? When will American's realize that all kids really need are a few other kids and some space to literally run around?

4 Months

Today marks 4 months that I've been here. I've been at my site (or as my Tirana counterpart says) post for 5 weeks.

Pictures from the Water

This morning I was graciously invited to a meeting of the social agencies of Vlora. The Italian government is helping the 3 larges municipalities develop regional social programs. I was hoping to speak a bit about sustainability- in terms of health and the environment, however the meeting mostly focused on women's issues. In the spirit of trying to be more participarity, people were asked to speak aafter the presentation of the social problems. To my surpirse, the moderator actually asked me to speak. I was pretty surprised, as I had just wanted to listen, but then did. One of the women graciously agreed to translate. I spoke about girls not going to school and how upset I was when I had arrived in the village to find out that my host sister wasn't allowed to pursue an education past 14 years of age. I also spoke about how, from my perception as an outside, I feel that the society places an unhealthy emphasis on thinness here really takes away from any value on intellectual
pursuits. I said that though I am from NY- an admittedly image obsessed city- and we
we do not value clothes and thinness to the extent it is valued here. I am frequently told that I am fat. In fact, it was the first thing my host mother told me after I t returned to Elbasan from my site visit.
I then hosted a meeting at the Aarhus Center to teach people about how to form Neighborhood Associations. It is my belief that it will be easier for the Bashkia to fulfill it obligations of reaching out to the public if groups were formed. I also think that if citizens formed neighborhood associations, then they as a group could focus on the few issues that are truly pressing for their community.
After work I went to the beach with my camera. That's right- after work, I walked down to the beach took a swim and then took some pictures.
It shows a bit of Vlore, and I particularly like that I was able to get pictures from the water. The shelf life is so shallow that I walked out pretty far before I with my camera.

Desk Update

Sitting at my desk, finally in Vlore.
I love it! LOVE IT!
I've uploaded a few (5) old posts. Please read.
Tomorrow, I'll upload another 5 (and pictures if I have time).
I'm heading out for a run before it gets to buggy, but as usual
feel free to post comments.

View from my new office and other juicy work details

Right now I am sitting at my desk (yes, as in MINE. Think terrible twos: mine, mine, mine, mine) in my (mine, mine, mine) new office in Vlore.
A few blog specific announcements before I move forward.
#1) I have filled in many missing entries. What does this mean? This also means that after this entry, I will fill in about 14 entries before going forward. So, be sure to scroll down to read all about the counterpart conference, Vlore and my last few weeks in Elbasan.
Why does this happen? Because I do not have internet every day I write my blog on word and then upload when I have internet. Sometimes I am so excited to tell the most recent news that I uploaded the last entry first and then go backwards uploaded previous days. This happened with the site placement entry. I uploaded it first but then ran out of time to upload the preceding days. So, if you go back through the blog you will see new entries that weren’t there before.
#2) I have tried to fill in pictures when I could. Pictures take a while to upload which is why I am so behind on pictures. I plan to upload them at work while I write my grant proposal, since word does not require much RAM.
#3) Please feel free to post comments or questions.

Now, on to the juicy details. My office has internet and a porch overlooking fruit trees and wine vines and an amazing counterpart (Peace Corps jargon for boss) who already has plenty of work for me. This is great because I, along with all other volunteers, have been told for the last 10 weeks that the summer is ridiculously slow in Albania and that I will not have work. I have been told that I will get invited to many, many coffees (Hjadje Pi Café= Come, Drink Coffee) and that other cohorts have even had competitions as to which volunteer has had the most Hjadje Pi Cafés in a day (11. True Story). Within that frame work we have been given sessions titled "How to stay busy in the summer" and "how to create work". We have already gone over the first 3 major areas that need work at Aarhus, incredibly without having coffee. They are sewage, land fills, and a grant proposal that I have to write.

Project Day!

As they say in Hebrew, Sof Sof. Finally, the day I’ve been waiting for.
Our Earth Day event started at 1pm. To get ready, we met at the school at 10:30. Kristine and I set up our table, I straightened my poster and put of some flip charts to write the answers the students gave down. We couldn’t find the school director but that we had the school key so it was ok.

After our table was set up with the glue, scissors, markers we spread out our model college. We then took the refridgartor box (sweet find) and cut it up for each of our 3 sessions. Finally, we were ready to go. We had a much needed coffee break and headed back.

The kids kept milling on in. While there were a few in the morning by 12:20 there was a mass. That is what happens when there is literally nothing to do in your town. We considered starting early, but the school director had yet to arrive so we held off.

Kacey introduces the project as she is managing it. Unfortunately, the composting station turned out to be a no go. In the end the stations ended up being a glass bottle candle making station, a trivia show and the River pollution. In plan, the kids were supposed to have 40 minutes at each startion and then voluntarily switch. However, as kids are kids, there is very little incentive for them to voluntarily change if there is no consequence for not changing.

Kristine and my station went really well. We had her English speaking cousins translate. To start, I elicited answers to questions about river pollution, such as what the pollution? Where does the garbage do they die go? For the garbage that remains on the side, where does the die go? How long does the plastic stay in the river? Kids answered on scraps. I then taped the answers on the flip charts and read them aloud. Next we spoke about the consequences of littering in the river (killing animals, polluting seas, and contaminating drinking sources). To wrap up, we spoke about other places to put garbage instead of the river.

After the teacher directly learning ended, we headed over to the collage area. I instructed kids to take a piece of garbage, ask Kristine or I for glue, and then to step on it for 1 minute. This went very well, except that the some kids forgot to ask for glue so their garbage didn’t quite stick. During the stepping and gluing I did a summative assessment with the help of Ornela, our language teacher. I asked the kids what happens to the garbage they throw in the river, and why they shouldn’t throw it there. Not that Kristine and I are so fabulous (well, we are), but I was really impressed with how much they seemed to retain.
We then changed stations. I noticed a few kids stayed at our station all 3 times, making them experts at river pollution. I think they really enjoyed the gluing and stepping.

Regrettably because of the way we structured the day, I was unable to visit anyone else’s station while it was going on. However, I think the kids really enjoyed it.
Thankfully, Rina was able to get permission to come and photographed part of the event. She got a little bored, as most of the participants were younger, and wandered off with my camera to do a photo shoot with the other teenage girls.
I finally found here and was able to snap a few shots at the last session.
After the sessions, the kids were gathered again for a thank you. We posed next to the various signs, helped our many generous translators and then cleaned up. A bunch of kids were loitering so I asked if anyone wanted to help clean. They all wanted to and clean up went exceptionally fast.

It’s kind of amazing that it took us 30 days to organize a 2 ½ hour project. But if ½ of the participants learned anything it was well worth the effort.

Back and Forth to Blat

Today I think all I did was walk back and forth between Shales and Blat. In fact, Kristine and I walked back and forth so many times that her host sister thought we were doing it on purpose for exercise. We weren’t . Circumstances lead to us trudging the road way too many times for comfort and left us completely exhausted by the end of the day.

Part of the reason we had to keep trekking the 1 mile between Blat, where I live, and Shales, the village where I catch the furgon and go to school, is that Kristine lives in Shales but Albi (the puppy) lives in Blat. He got evicted from Shales really fast. The other is that we run, which means we have to leave from either Shales or Blat. If we leave from Shales, I then have to go to Shales, get my stuff and then walk back to Blat. If we leave from Blat, Kristin has to walk to Shales. Today, we ran from Blat since Katie, or more applicably Albi’s house is on the way to my house and we can’t run with him (he’s a bit pudgy and not so into running right now). We ran from Blat but came back to my house to get the garbage for our project, then Katie’s to get Albi and then walked back to Shales. On the way back, sweaty and puppy in hand, we picked up as much flat gluable garbage as we could find. My box full from the LAS just didn’t have enough.

We took the garbage to Kristines, made a few posters and then went back to Blat to drop Albi off. During one of the multiple stops at my house, Rina had asked Kristine if she liked Marcarona (pasta). Kristine said yes and before we knew Rina was making pasta for dinner and Kristine was invited to join. So, we trudged back, again, to drop off Albi and eat. It was getting a bit ridiculous.

My River Pollution poster got fondled by everyone on the way, so it is not going to look to fresh tomorrow. However, most people seemed to like it, so I guess better ratty and good than fresh and sucky.

USAID and visions of progress

Because this was the first week of Practicum, we only had technical training on Friday this week. Fortunately, technical training was so interesting on Friday that it was worth two days. Also, we have another full week of practicum next week.
To kick of the day, a representative of USAID came to speak to us. He was actually a contractor who was working for a company hired by USAID to develop business centers and help to streamline the business registration process in Albania. Currently, USAID is working with 10 cities in Albania. To monitor its progress, it uses 10 other cities as control cities. As of now in most municipalities a business owner must register with about 15 different offices to get his business registered. There is little logic as to who an owner must register with, where those office are and even less information about what the process is. Given this opaque and incoherent process it is not surprising that many people don’t bother to register their business or pay taxes. It is very unclear what the penalty is for not paying taxes. As far as I can tell, there really is none but I could be wrong. The benefit to paying taxes seems to be that you could get your garbage collected and be a vendor for the government. However, small businesses wouldn’t be vendors anyway so there is really no incentive for them. To help streamline the business process USAID is establishing information centers for people to go to in order to ask how to register their business. USAID is also helping municipalities distill the registration process to 2-3 windows or steps.

In addition to the business center project, the USAID representative spoke of the many different steps Albania needs to take to get accepted to the EU. Many relate to sustainability and urban planning, which the country currently lacks. However, the federal government just started requiring each region to develop a regional plan so it looks like I’ve arrived at the right time. I asked him a few questions regarding sustainability, insulations and energy efficiency. He seemed to think people didn’t use insulation because they didn’t have to pay their electricity and/or didn’t see a clear correlation between paying increased electric bills and lacking insulation. (This inability to see this correlation is not confined to Albania, embarrassingly most American’s fail to see the importance of renovating or fixing their homes to be energy efficient).

The Albanian logic behind not investing in energy efficiency sort of makes sense since electric use isn’t really that high here. Every family that I’ve seen sits in one room from the time they get home to the time each member goes to sleep. In the winter they gather around the heater, in the spring and summer it’s the tv. So, unlike America where there is a light on in every room, here there isn’t one on in every room here (nor is there any privacy). However, I keep wondering if it’s a chicken and egg problem. Everyone sits in the same room because it’s the only room with an oven or heater of some sort. In the bitter cold winter, why would you separate yourself if you would literally freeze to death? So, even though now that there are other options besides having one room heated, such as having a heater in each room or insulation, those alternatives seem like an unnecessary investment because everyone sits in the same room anyway.

After the lecture I spoke to him about energy efficiency initiative and regional plans. He told me to get in touch with him through email, as he knew the head of the energy efficiency council in Tirana. I’m so excited to get involved and the summer is a great time to start making connections as my job will be pretty slow (Albanians, like most Europeans, take August off). My COD director, Diana, overhead the conversation and told me she’d help me get involved. She promised to connect me to the regional planning offices and proper point people. Amazing!

Garbage Poster

Blogging is hard. Since I am in a small village with no internet there is really nothing to talk about except other people. For real. It’s a bit hard to discuss books in depth if everyone is reading a different one. There are no newspapers in sight, in Shqip or English and I can’t understand the tv news. I now know why the rural radio is so efficient. Why not gossip?

As I listen to the dogs bark outside and know I’m going to wake up to one very annoying Roster at 6, I can’t help but to think that I am so disconnected from the outside world. I would kill for a NYTimes or Wall Street Journal. Hey, I’m not picky. At this point I’d settle for a NY Post or Daily News. I’m started to miss the headlines reading “Hizzoner”. I hope I can find the time to spend a few hours on the internet tomorrow reading current events.

Given that situation, compounded with the fact that we didn’t go to Elbasan for technical sessions this Tuesday, I am really enticed to devote this blog entry to my site mates. However, I’m going to resist and find other material.
For starters, Rina is really getting into working out. Now that we’ve crossed that bridge- I truly believe she’ll keep it up while I’m gone.

Second, our Community Development Project (CDP) is rapidly approaching. Today is Thursday and our village earth day is on Sunday. This is the project we in Shales have been working on for the past 4 weeks. At this point we will have 3 separate stations run by each of us. One booth will double up and one person will be overseeing the event, jumping in to help whosever needed help at s/her station.
Kristine and I are doing a station on river pollution. We cannot teach the community not to through their trash on their landscapes because there is literally no alternative but we can teach something important: Don’ t throw trash in the river. Granted, pollution is way more complicated than that, but for a town which cannot afford dumpsters or garbage collections because so few people pay taxes, teaching people to through garbage in the trash receptacle is nonsensical- there simply isn’t one. Telling people to get a job- when there are no jobs- so that they have money to pay taxes so the Kommuna has money for sanitation collection and dumpsters is simply not going to happen. We are guests in this community and must remember that. So, we thought we’d teach something doable: Educating students on the perils of through trash directly in the river.

We believe a session on River Pollution will be very productive because there is a belief here among some people that the river belongs to the state and therefore one should throw garbage in it. On a personal not, my interest in water pollution has increased greatly since I found out I’ll be working for an Environmental organization at the beach. In fact, I learned that about 80% of all pollution on the beach originated from water ways not litter bugs at the beach. Additionally, many children here and in America simply have no idea that when you pollute the river you pollute your drinking source.

This morning Kristine and I outlined our lesson completely. We will be teaching about the decomposition rates of plastic, the htazards of river pollution and what happens to the materials when they are thrown in the river (where does the die go?). After asking questions to the kids, we will all make a collage with the partially decomposed objects we found near the river to visualize what we are drinking.

Running in the Mud

Rina is now officially on the road to fitness. Not only did she work out for an hour yesterday without me, but today she worked out for ½ without me and then went for a run with me and Kristin. She has gone from being a tyro to asking daily if we could do gymnastics together to her working out by herself.

After language I tried to go running with Kristine but it was still sprinkling and really muddy out so I figured I’d go home early and workout with Rina. Normally, rain does not deter me from my normal activity but as it is I am a novice at running and running is excruciatingly hard here. The only road here is the National Road which cannot fit two cars on it width wise 80% of the time without one having to go off the road into the shoulder. That wouldn’t matter if there were a shoulder - but there is not. In reality, the shoulder is the mud that people walk on to go to the store, furgon, school, walk their wheelbarrows down and guide their donkeys, cows or sheep along. Even the ubiquitous chicken crosses the road. So, when a car passes you, the driver honks. Pretty much a driver will do this no matter what unless he (it is almost always a he) physically sees you move out of the way in advance. This can be a bit jarring at first, but it is really meant to protect pedestrians and warn those walking on the National Road that a car is coming.

So, being as it had rained all day, this shoulder was filled with mud. I was worried it would be slippery. I really don’t want to get hurt running. It would suck to get hurt here because it would be hard to get the proper medical attention quickly. Ambulances are still somewhat of an anomaly here. In the words of our PCMO if you’re in a car accident here you’ll probably be thrown in the back of a Mercedes and taken to the nearest hospital. Also, if I’m going to get hurt it should happen during a sport I have always loved playing like tennis, softball or hockey. Not running. Who gets hurt doing an activity she doesn’t particularly like and didn’t want to do anyway? Exactly. Plus, any car passing me and Kristine would most probably splash us with manure filled mud. There are so many pot holes here that even when there is only one car on the road it has to go into the shoulder to avoid getting a flat. With that in mind, Kristine thought she’d find Albi who had been left with Katie and walk home with me to bring Albi home.

By the time we found the Katie and the puppy the rain had stopped. We figured we should try to run, despite all the aforementioned objections because at the end of the day running provides the exercise and outlet that really nothing else can match.
We ran on the road to Blat (my very small village) not the National Road. It intersects the National Road at the Don Café. This is the road from that connects Blat to the village. It is not paved at any point which is good for running. It is just mud and rocks. It happens to be challenging with a steep hill on either side and provide exceptionally beautiful vistas. So, we ran it, clocked, played a bit of football in between and then went to my house. The idea was to grab some water and run back so we could clock the mileage from my house to the village. It was about 1 mile.

We got to my house and found my host mother and Gjusha outside filling up the water barrels. Thirsty from running, I asked if I could drink the water and was handed a bottle. As I drank form the bottle, I looked in the barrel and saw a roach. Now, this roach truly and utterly looked like the fake ones you get at Ricky’s or any Halloween store, but it wasn’t. I pointed the road out to Gjusha who laughed and the grabbed it. She jokingly tried to put it on me or Kristin and we squealed and ran away. Then she tried to run with us. She only made it down the walkway, but I gave her credit for trying since she was wearing house slippers and a skirt.

Rina finally appeared and told us that she had done ½ of gymnastics today. I was so happy. We asked her if she wanted to run and she agreed. But she refused to run to the village. When we asked her where we were going to run and she pointed to a place far, far away where we had never been. We were going deep into Blat. Thought we really wanted to start running we agreed because we were so excited that she was going to run with us. She took us behind the house, through the yard, through someone else’s yard, until we hit a dirt road. We kept going until that road merged with the main road, and then went off on another dirt road. As the houses started to thin we asked if we could start running, no we were told. Finally, there was a huge hill on our left and fields on our right. No houses were in sight. Now can we run we asked? No. There are people grazing their animals on the hill and they will watch. We kept walking until the animal’s companions could not see us. Then we ran for about 6 minutes.

Ostensibly we had to stop because the road literally turned to water, but I think we could have pushed on. I had the minority opinion. We turned back, and Rina pointed to the pretty steep hill. Let’s climb it she said. OK I agreed. Kristine did not look thrilled. Rina lead the way. As we struggled to keep up, she turned to Kristine who was in back and said “I’m not tired. I’m fast because I do gymnastics with Molly

Raki Finally

The down side of giving Rina computer lessons is that I have far less time to blog. I’m hoping that with my project finishing soon and the days getting longer I’ll have enough time for both in the very near future. So, though I’m behind on blogging and work Rina’s familiarity and comfort level with the computer has skyrocketed, which couldn’t make me happier. Additionally, today she told me that her brother who is currently in Italy has a car and will drive her to Vlore when he comes home! How great is that? I’m really happy she wants to visit.

This morning I had Practicum- which basically means that we decide which of the businesses, markets, ngos and/or offices we should visit to gain a deeper understanding of the workings of the village or city. Since my village is really small we don’t have NGOs or many businesses. Hence, the practicum is a bit of a challenge. Today, we spend the day interviewing the café owners and our new friend the vet.

Before practicum I taught Rina how to make an egg white omelet. My house mother had slept in Kavaje so it was still just Rina and I this morning. We were able to sleep late (7:30) and then cook ourselves. Or rather, I was able to cook (now, a treat). Rina watched me the entire time so she could learn. Then she cooked laquer, the meal she messed up last night. It was, as promised, delicious today.

Because we had practicum this morning, I was able to run home for lunch and had it while it was hot. While I was eating, I told her that she had to teach me how to cook it because a) it is soo good and b)I only know how to cook American foods which won’t help me if the ingredient are not readily available here (like salmon, tofu or broccoli). She said ok, but only if you teach me how to cook American food. I said of course. Tomorrow, I will make her an omelet.

Rina has been really motivated to work out with me and I think that she is starting to really enjoy working out. When I got home tonight she told me she had worked out for 1 hour by herself, very impressive. When I came here she thought I was crazy for working out at all. I would have to beg her to try it. Now, she is working out by herself and trying to eat healthily. I knew she enjoyed the exercise ball I brought (It’s basically hers by now), but I didn’t realize how much she works out without me.

While Rina was on my laptop practicing typing I built hand weights with rocks, duct tape and small water bottles. I really hope it works. I need to start lifting to truly be Fit to Strip. I also ordered some resistance bands and a Pilates mat on the internet (People: I am going to be living by the beach for the next 2 years. I’m arriving in the summer. I really like eating, especially when new foods are involved. Wouldn’t you be working out if you were me?)

When I was outside attempting to photograph the sunset, which I should know by now is almost always fruitless, my HM grabbed me, took me out back and showed me what she had done today: planted grape vines. I was really impressed with them and told her so. She insisted that I take a picture of them, so I took too. They are absolutely beautiful but the pictures spectacularly fail to do the trees justice.
During dinner, I was speaking with Rina and told her that though I had been in Albania for over 1 month because there are only women in the house I had not yet had Raki. Raki, the 22-proof homemade grain alcohol known by some as fire water, is offered to men regularly if not daily. Men will also frequently start off their day with a coffee and shot of Raki in the café. Though I’ve been in Albania for only 5 weeks, I already had the misfortunate of sitting next to more than one man who reeked of Raki on the furgon. Rina asked if I wanted Raki right then and there. I refused it, explaining that I just meant in the general scheme of things I’d like to try it. I assumed it would be a huge hassle to obtain it as I had yet to see it in the house and did not want to inconvenience them. She insisted. She told me that Gjusha makes and has it. Of course. I should have known. By then, the Raki, housed in a coke bottle, was already on the table and I was being poured a dainty glass of it. There not kidding when they call it fire water, but it’s worth it. I drank it all.

Homeless Albi

Today I finally had a bad meal. This actually an accomplishment when you live in a country in which you love the food and a house with superior cooks. However, tonight Rina didn’t put enough water in the Laker (laquer) so there was flour beneath the top later. By flour I mean the powder that you buy in the store. The problem was that the top was a deceivingly delicious looking crusty layer- neatly concealing the power directly beneath it. But that was just one problem. The salad, which I had made, was bad as well. Because the lighting was bad where I made the salad I had put in plenty of bad or more accurately rotting pieces of lettuce.

That meal was just one of the many anomalies of the day. I went running outside which I never do and am starting to really enjoy. There are many obstacles to it. Some of my own making, such as losing a sneaker in Elbasan, a deep seeded hatred of running outside, an inability to pace myself and a self fulfilling prophecy that I am bad at running outside (I mean, what is so difficult about putting your feet in front of each other a bit faster? C’mon!). Then there are the inherent problems with running outside such as you don’t know how long you have run, you don’t have TVs like in the gym, you don’t have the super motivating calorie counter as in YES! I ran off that chocolate croissant only 280 calories until the cappuccino is gone... there goes the gelato! And, lastly, you might run so far and get so tired you can’t get back (ok- that kind of out there). Then there are the specific obstacles to running in a small village in Albania- the muddy roads filled with rocks, stray dogs, chickens, mud puddles, stares and people who try to converse with you while you run (How are you? Where are you going? And my favorite: What are you doing?). Despite all this, I have developed an affinity for running. It really is a great stress reliever and, in case you haven’t guessed, Equinox Fitness with its multiple HDTV doesn’t exactly exist here.

So, today after I ran with Kristine, I did plates with Kacey to stretch out. Then I did Fit to Strip with Rina who had generously bought me a marshmallow chocolate after the pesach craving.

The rest of the day was an anomaly in and of itself. During class Kristine was informed that she could not keep Albi at her house. In fact, her HM had hit him pretty hard while Kristine was outside and then called our home stay coordinator to kick him out. 4 month old Albi could no longer sleep outside near the sheep guts, chicken or donkey. Kristine was pretty upset as were others as it’s hard for most Americans to hatte a puppy. So, we spent the rest of the day trying to find Albi a home. To do this, we had to get him vaccinated first. Our langague teacher acopmained us to ease the language barrier. After Kacey’s family refused him, we had 2 options left: Katie and my house. Katie’s house was a better bet as they have a few pigs, a cow and 4 children. My house only has chickens and a garden. We all went to Katie’s house carrying the cardboard boxes that would become Albi’s home and Albi. Her HM was not home but her Gjusha was and after a few minutes she agreed that the puppy could sleep outside. Excellent! Albi has a hosue.

After his house got settled in under the porch, Kristine took him to meet my family. My HM wasn’t home because she had gone home to Kavaje to celebrate the engagement of her 22 year old brother to a 17 year old girl. I found Gjusha and Rina hanging out outside. They loved Albi! Couldn’t get enough. Gjusha even invited him to live inside the house. She showed Kristine her dog (which I had completely forgotten she had) and kept playing with him. At first, I didn’t think I was hearing Gjusha correctly, so I asked again “Inside? Are you sure?” and she said yes. Then I realized what was happening. Gjusha, I said, what would mammie think if she came home and there was a dog living inside her house. At this point, Rina and Gjusha started rolling on the floor laughing. Gjusha is a joker!

Because my HM was in Kavaje Rina cooked dinner instead of my host mother. After wandering around with Albi, running and working out, it was a pretty nice to have a mellow night. Dinner was Gjusha, Rina and me. Gjusha didn’t seem to mind the flour laker and ate most of it. In fact, I should say she ate all of it. Rina and I wanted nothing to do with the raw flour, though I did attempt to eat the rotting lettuce. I was promised by Rina that she would make the Laker again tomorrow and do a good job. I’m excited. It is full of spinach, onions and corn meal. When made correctly it will be delicious.

Dog Found

This morning Rina didn’t feel well so I went to Elbasan by myself. In the spirit of exercise and to combat growing restlessness from living in Shales, Kristin and I started our trek with a walk to Cerrik, a decent sized town on the way to Elbasan, and then take a furgon from there. We weren’t sure how long the walk would take but assumed that it’d be as long as Belesh.

We were wrong- it was only 2 miles away and we burned a fraction of the calories however it was well worth it. We caught a furgon easily and headed off to the Trego or market. For some reason as we approached the city’s heart we got stuck in terrible traffic. Still on the outskirts we hopped off to explore the modern looking “EurChic” supermarket which I had been eyeing but never ventured far enough out to enter. We were pretty happy to discover it had a decent stock of food at a reasonable price when compared to other supermarkets; however for us the cost of 4 cans of tuna were equivalent to our daily food allowance and since our food allowance is our only allowance the tuna was not an option.

Finally we made it to the Trego an experience in its self. We must have been wearing fairly large signs that said “I’m American” because we were tugged and pulled at in various languages in each and every direction. For some reason, many Albanians believe that foreigners speak Italian so they will try Shqip, English and Albania until you respond. As a New Yorker, my natural instinct is to avoid eye contact, not reveal my identity and put my guard up. However, in all honesty, they are so few foreigners (particularly in Elbasan) in this country that was closed to the world for so long, that the clerks are honestly just plain curious. I have to keep remembering that.

At the market there was some confusion over the prices, and by that I do not mean my bad Shqip for once. First of all, there is always some confusion over prices here because many people still quote you in old Leke with the understanding you will automatically drop the last 0 mentally. If a clerk writes you a receipt s/he will probably tally up the prices in old Leke and then physically cross off the last 0. However, in newer stores, like the EurChic, boutiques and many places in Tirana prices are written in new Leke. Also, people speak in new Leke. So, when asking what the price of a good is you have to assume it is in old Leke if its super high, like 1800 for soap, or ask if it is old or new Leke.

At the Trego the whole Leke issue posed various problems. We struggled to find shirts without meretricious sequins, pockets or mottos such as “Don’t take it personality your such” emblazoned on them [not a typo]. Finally we a found a stand with some great jackets and simple button down shirts. We were quoted prices such as 18 and 34 for the items leading us to believe that they cost 18 or 34 Leke- the equivalent of .18 or .34 cents. Though logically it could not cost that little to produce clothes, transport them and pay overhead, we were believed it was the price because that was the price we were given and the Trego is a semi-outdoor market. Only when we tried to pay were we told it was 18 hundred and 34 hundred. Much more logical. There you are not quoted old or new Leke but simply a number and you are to guess the denomination. For example, I asked how much a barrette was and was informed that it was 5. When I handed her 5 Leke, she told me it was 50. I’m not a good guesser yet.

Kristine pared down her multiple choices to a few that fit within the newly revealed prices and bought a few much needed shirts. Unlike me, she had kept to the very strict PC and airline guidelines and only brought enough clothes for a few weeks. She’s not the only one. In fact, most people have found themselves in dire need of more clothing forcing mothers all over America to raid their PC children’s storage areas and figure out ways of sending clothes and other essentials to Albania. Finding clothes one likes is hard enough in America, but is especially hard to do when you must travel to the market which is only open from 7-3, lacks fitting rooms and caters to a younger clientele. Stores are simply unaffordable for our indigent lifestyle. Supplementing the inherent problems of shopping in Albania on a limited budget is the added PST problem that we are overscheduled during the day and must return home by dinner making the only day that shopping is even an option Sunday. Keenly anticipating this problem (shopping in a developing country) and wary both of what might be sent and the oversees mail situation in general I had brought enough clothing to dress the entire village, going way over the weight limit for Lutshansia. In retrospect, it could possibly be the best $300 every spent.
The Trego was an experience, but the biggest event of the day came after it at about 5pm when Kristine and I spied a lost puppy outside hotel universe. It was beautiful and Kristine became determined to keep him. She instantly fell involve with him, grabbed him and carried him to the furgon. I hope she is able to keep him.

Culture Day

Today was culture day. This meant awkwardness all around. As opposed to other years when Culture Day was hosted in the hub, Elbasan, this year culture day was held in the satellite sites (the six village) which was a great idea. We were responsible for representing American Culture- meaning food- to the event site while our host families were in control of bringing all things Albanian- food, handicrafts and music- as well as themselves.

In preparation for culture day last night I had a lengthy discussion with my family about what they were going to cook. During this conversation I was shocked to discover that Rina, my host sister, had no intention of coming. I was under the impression that it was mandatory not just for trainees, but for everyone, particularly every member of host families which are only composed of 2 people. I fundamentally couldn’t understand why she wasn’t coming. Compound that disclosure with the revelation from my host mother (HM) that she would be late because she was going to Belesh to sell her eggs in the morning the market and I was pretty upset.
To say I threw a fit would be an overstatement but I was visibly disappointed. I couldn’t believe Rina wouldn’t come. I begged her to come. But she refused. She told me that she couldn’t come because she if she did the house would be unattended. Yes- you read correctly. There was a fear of leaving the house all alone. I anticipated that maybe she didn’t want to come because she is a teenager and thought the event was dumb. As a teenage I thought most things my parents wanted me to go to were dumb and now, having taught teenagers, expect that most teenagers think that most things I recommend are dumb. That is totally understandable. However, leaving the house all along wasn’t an anticipated rational. I explained to Rina and her mother that that is why house keys were invented. She could leave the house all alone for a few hours and lock it. I promised her nothing would happen to the house and that people routinely do this. I was certain that it was ok partially because crime is ridiculously low here and because she literally knows all of her neighbors. Finally she agreed to lock the door today and come. I jumped up with joy.

At about 9 pm last night, after it was decided that she could come, Rina came into my room wearing fishnet stockings, black shorts, bright red high heels and a black tank top. She looked great in the outfit- really- but I didn’t understand why she was wearing it. Before I had a change to ask, she explained that she was going to wear it for culture day. Well, she is a teenager after all. I keep forgetting that as she cooks and cleans the house all day.

Rina then asked what I was going to wear. I had been so busy buying the food for the sweet salad, mashed potatoes and apple pie that I hadn’t given my outfit much thought. Caught off guard, I told Rina that I would love for her to pick out an outfit for me. She tried to sort out my clothes for a few minutes, but decided that she just couldn’t figure out an outfit from them.

Today, I woke up and put on something somewhat photogenic. It was cold in the morning so Rina swapped the stockings, red high heels and shorts for jeans and black boots. We left at about 9:30 and walked really slowly down the road because of the boots. I, of course, was being tortured. As a New York I just cannot stand to walk slowly. I’ve been routinely told by other Americans that I walk scarily fast. I don’t know what my problem is, but once I start walking, I just go- and go fast.
We finally arrived, but not before receiving a call from the assistant of home stays asking where we were. As we walked in we realized that we were the only people there. The Americans were setting up the food, but not a single host family was there. Rina and I kind of stood around and looked at the empty tables.

The host families finally started to filter in with food, handicrafts, music, keyboards and energy. As Katie’s family filed in I noticed a few missing persons. I asked her about it and was told her host sister didn’t come because she had to stay home to take care of the house. Apparently, that is a very popular activity here.
We turned to dancing after the cross cultural eating-which was phenomenal- ended. The Albanians turned on the keyboards and started circle dancing. The Americans joined in and we all formed a circle that moved around the restaurant in a somewhat choreographed way. Ornela started napkin dancing and got the Americans all worked up. To napkin dance one takes a napkin daintily between the index and thumb of both hands and sort of moves it around while dancing. We tried to napkin dance but didn’t look anywhere as elegant as the Albanian women.

When things died down we all headed off to start our days. Kristine and I had to make a prototype of our collage we took our supplies for Kacey’s terrace and head over to Kristine’s house. We started to lay out our cardboard on her driveway we were instructed to move our collage out of sight from passersbyers, which is odd since she lives on a dead end. However, because her family was very concerned about people seeing us working on garbage in front of her house so we moved our project out of sight.

Behind us, her host parents were very busy bashing in the head of a sheep they planned to eat for dinner. I’m not exactly sure how they were eviscerating it because I refused to turn and look. When Kristine and I finally stopped to get more supplies, we were instructed by her host parents to move our recycling college to the garage. I was instructed by Kristin to turn my back a specific way to avoid the blood, guts and bashed in head, so I tried to look straight down and force different images through my mind.

Kristine’s host mother found my queasiness hysterical. She kept asking me questions about it or more accurately, teasing me about it. Most Albanians are very upset or at least find it very odd that I don’t eat meat. I’m consistently reminded that I am risking my health by not eating red meat on a regular basis. My hand visor was imitated as was my facial expression. While I enjoyed her company, I was getting really nauseas standing next to the sheep guts, so really couldn’t engage in a lengthy dietary discussion in Shqip right then.

To get the image out of our minds, buy necessary supplies and get a change of scenery, Kristine and I walked to Belesh. We were on a mission to find a staple gun. Belesh is about 3.6 miles away, but we stopped in some caves on the way, climbed up a hill and ended up doubling the trek, turning it into a 7.1 mile journey.
We arrived in Belesh and after going in maybe 6 stores, we finally found a staple gun amoung the lopsided piles and stacks of phones, nails and screwdrivers in a hardware store. It was $100 so it was completely out of the question but we were pretty proud we havd found it.

To reward ourselves for the hard work we indulged in gelato and then headed back on a furgon. I got home and did gymnastics with Rina. Tomorrow I am going to take her to Elbasan to go shopping. To arrange this required a herculean effort as my host mother doesn’t really like Rina leaving the house. Her resistance made me feel like a sybarite for simply agreeing to chaperon the shopping mission, but Rina persevered and was eventually granted permission. In turn, I had to agree to stay with Rina at all times, not allowing her to be alone at all- a reasonable request considering she is a teenage girl.

My Placementt... Drumroll....

I found out where I will be working and living for the next 2 years. Don’t you want to know….

The city is called Vlore. It is the 2nd biggest port (read: beach) in Albania. It has a population of 112,000 and is in the southern (read: warmer) part of the country. You kinda can’t beat that. The best part is that I’ll be both working to help establish a new branch of an recognized environmental NGO that helps citizens in the developing world get involved in decisions regarding their environment and connected to Bashkia (municipality) working on the mandated mapping. I also heard that one can buy tofu in Vlore for pretty cheap- is this the dream or what? The organization I’ll be working for is called Aarhus, named after the city in Denmark where the Aarhus Convention was signed (http://www.unece.org/env/pp/). I strongly recommend you look it up.

Of course, since I’m living on the beach, I mean port city, I expect to have tons of visitors so book your flight now! Remember, I’m allowed to have visitors after the first three months, so come after September 1st. Remember, if you're coming from America, feel free to bring any of the below. In fact, in that case, being as I currently make so little that I am not legally required to file a tax return, feel free to send any of the below so it gets her in time for my birthday (May 24th).
Workout cds, yoga mat, resistance bands, magazines, packages (not cans) of tuna (the kind without the water), brown sugar, brown flour (oddly enough the later two are completely unavailable here), spicy or dejon mustard or mustard seeds, ketchup, pie crust, foot warmers (the kind you put in ski boots), sharpies or any other permanent marker, oatmeal for cooking, chocolate chips, nail files, dental floss, an old working but worthless laptop for my host sister to practice/learn typing on.
Other exciting news today includes Rina’s (my host sister) birthday. She officially turned 17 today. We celebrated with a cake and some friends came over. That’s about it. It was actually a bit sad. I thought there would be more of a party, but Rina was already cooking by the time I got home and put her candles in her own cake she had bought herself. I would have done it had I known they had candles. I did sing to her which was probably more punishment than reward. I also need to buy her a present, so if you have any suggestions for a 17 year old post them, please.
We met with a few Ngo/ International Aid Agency representatives, including a rep from World Vision, UNDP , Women’s Center, and SNV. SNV is the Swedish equivalent to USAID and had developed a pretty extensive and through tourism action plan for Albania. IT is in the 2nd year of working on the plan and I think it will truly help Albania’s economy, as it is such a beautiful country with so many assets.

The rest of the day was as good as it could have been given the circumstances (we were pretty a anxious to find out where and who we were going to live with for the next 2 years). As we got closer and closer to 4pm no one wanted to talk. We all held our breaths and prayed for the best. We were handed our envelopes and ripped them open, turned to the person next to us to ask which town we never heard of they were going to, walked to the map and stuck a picture of ourselves on our town. It was quite the scene.

Got back to town, and met some village boys on the road. They started talking to me, so I figured I should talk to them. Somehow, after we exchanged names and realized we couldn’t really have a conversation else (there were about 7 of them and one of me) we ended up racing up the second hill. Now, at the end of the second hill, near the pseudo cement factory (is it a factory or not?) at the corner of the long road and my road there is a pretty vicious loud dog. He was in full force and the kids asked me about it. I told them I don’t like dogs which they understood. I already like them more than American boys. They continued down to long road, but pointed down my street to a stray and yelled for me to watch out. We parted ways and but I was prepared for the stray and thanked the boys for their help.