Arriving in Belgrade, I walked everywhere; the Walking District, the Bohemian District, etc. There were still some signs from the late 90's NATO bombing.

Picture: A Russian Orthodox church inside which are stored many artifacts and icons that were scurried away during the Russian Revolution of 1917.

Belgrade seemed to me a toned-down, Slavic, post-communist version of Vienna--rich with visible layers of Serbian history from Ottoman rule to Tito's Yugoslavia, to Serbia by itself.

Picture: Statue of Prince Mihailo in front of the National Museum. Prince Mihailo, who has been asserted to be the most enlightened 19th Century ruler of Serbia, advocated the idea of a untied Balkan federation against the Ottoman Empire

The overnight train ride from Bar to Novi Sad on New Years Eve was remarkable. My idea was that because I was travelling alone and with not much money, there was no need to celebrate New Years and could save on a hotel night by sleeping on the train.

I did save money by not staying at a hotel and did not celebrate for New Years, but nor did I sleep. The Serbian father and son in my compartment were very nice and my couple of words remembered from Russian combined with the son's couple of English words made for a few smiles. And they shared a few sweets with me.

However, the compartment was bitterly cold because the heater did not work, and the father smoked one cigarette after another making it impossible to sleep. Turns out that shivering and breathing swathes of smoke over a 14-hour train ride are not conducive to snoozing.

The train was due to arrive in Novi Sad before 5AM. I hoped that either the train would be late or that when I arrived there would be some sort of unlikely concert still happening in the main city square. The train arrived about 8AM at a station in a city in which I had no orientation. I asked a Serbian guy on the train how to find the city center, and he ended up sharing his taxi with me and pointing me to the center. Although sleepless, I was still full of energy to see the city.

Picture: Statue of Svetozar Miletic, a 19th Century leader who fought for the rights of Serbs in Austria Hungary

Novi Sad is the second largest city in Serbia, about 90 minutes by car north of Belgrade. I walked for about two hours around the center--it was beautiful and it was frigid. My nose was running and tissues frozen into ice. Crews were cleaning up the aftermath of New Years Eve and it looked like it had been quite an event. There were a McDonalds and a few coffee shops open. The city was otherwise sleeping.

I hopped on the next bus to Belgrade.

In Bar, Montenegro I purchased an overnight train ticket to Novi Sad, Serbia, the second city of Serbia. I had a few hours to wander in Bar and noticed that people were extremely tall there. I saw at least 10 women taller than I am. At my height of six feet and two inches (188 cm), that is a tall order.

I noticed also that whenever I ordered a slice of pizza in Montenegro, they asked if I would like ketchup or mayonnaise as its condiment. And except for the Albanian populated areas of Montenegro, there was an appalling lack of cafes!

Picture: The central square of Bar, Montenegro, stage set for the New Year's Eve celebration

There was a busy fast food stand in the square serving pizza. The cooks and servers were all Albanian and Roma folks. I ordered a slice of pizza and munched off it, but it had ketchup as a topping. Halfway through the slice, I put the remains in a bin and searched for a better slice at another place.

After several days of unbridled—and to be exact—unbridled celebrating around Christmas in Rubik, I convinced myself to travel away from Albania. Unfortunately, my friends who were meant to travel with me were sick, so I travelled solo. I left Rubik early in the morning on the 29th and showed up in Shkoder, Albania, looking for the minibus that goes to Montenegro.

A nice woman at a travel agency told me that there are no minibuses to Montenegro, but I asked “How can I go then?” She told me that there is a driver in the four-story red building in the square, sitting at the café, who has a white car with license plates that begin with UL (for Ulqinj, Montenegro).

I didn’t really believe her, but I found the café and asked the waiter how I could find a ride to Montenegro. He answered that the guy with the mustache a few tables over was the driver.

I found the man with the mustache and he invited me to sit with him and another passenger for coffee. He was especially friendly and his name was Hamid, an Albanian person from Montenegro. I waited just a bit to see if I liked him before I started talking in Albanian language with him.

He drove me to Ulqinj, Montenegro, as far as the bus station. Hamid helped me buy a ticket to Kotor, the next stop on my tour. While we were in line at the ticket counter, he argued with the two peeps behind us, asking them why they were yelling so much.

Riding on the bus from Ulqinj to Bar, I noticed we were travelling through the city of Bar, but didn’t know where to exit. So, I walked toward the front of the bus and tried to discuss my exit with the conductor. The conductor was alternately talking in Serbian and Albanian when I looked at the girl in front of him. I asked her, “Do you speak English?”

She brightened, and said “Yes!” Before the bus turned a corner we exited together with some small talk. This Serbian woman was absolutely shining, smiling, beautiful and friendly; smitten to speak English and explained to me the directions to the bus/train station.

Picture: Church of Saint Ilia in Kotor, Montenegro

At the bus station in Bar I asked the ticket lady, do you speak English?

"No", she answered.

"Albanian?"

She began to write instructions on how to travel to Albania. Protesting, I spoke rudimentary words until she asked me, “Do you know Albanian?”

I responded, “Yes”.

“Then, why don’t you talk!!?” She said, with exasperation.

After that chat, I purchased the bus ticket to Kotor, Montenegro.

I went to the city council meeting this morning, then a lunch afterward with the council members.

At the end of the lunch, people exploded into an argument--among all of the people at the table--over who stole votes from whom in the last election. Fortunately, my entrance back to the lunch table from the bathroom, putting on my jacket stimulated everybody to shut up and leave the bar. I had tried a few times during the argument to stop the yelling, but curiously, my exit from the bar spurred them to exit.

One councillor, while we were leaving, told me that Pal stole the votes, and began to explain how he did it. I told him "I don't want to know".

Finally, the Vaushkieze Bridge project has been finished; funded by the Dutch Embassy from a project developed by my office at the municipality.

Before and after pics:

At a recent wedding, my American buddy did "the worm" dance toward the end of the night, and took out three people. He told me later that they fell independently of his dance. The Rubik mayor pushed me into a dance circle to dance with our (unmarried) school director. Rumors! I happened to be sitting next to another (unmarried) Albanian girl during the wedding. Rumors? Apparently most people thought she was American, so less scandalous.

After I came back to Albania from America in April, I presented chocolates to the president of the Rubik City Council for his wife and three sons. "Fine", he said to me, but "I'm divorced with my wife" (Albanian joke, not true).

I said, "that's great, I like your wife, I'll marry her!" He went crazy, and everybody repeats that joke now.

14-August- A tremble of my apartment building, a small earthquake which was centered in Kurbnesh.

Photo: Stupefied, surprised at a birthday cake coming

A few Albanian jokes that I've heard recently:

-What does an ass do in the sun? Make shade.

-What kind of rocks are in the river? Wet rocks.

-What do Chinese people do when it's raining? They let it rain.

My buddy Dan said to the new American Peace Corps volunteers: "You're gonna have to pretend to laugh better!"

-I saw my first crossdresser in Tirana around the 4th of July, while walking. This phenomenon is simply not seen in this conservative culture.

Four people have told me that I am becoming fatter, and it is true. It's not rude to call people fat. In fact, most anything that we consider rude in American culture is not so here.

-Electricity is off from noon until 4pm each day, crimping work, and the refrigerator.

You should read this article about an obscure custom:

Albanian Custom Fades: Woman as Family Man

Plenty of people have been calling me a liar lately, but if you consider that I've been adapting to local norms, that is a ridiculous accusation ;-)

My counterpart, Sander took me to the regional hospital in Lezhe. I accompanied him because I was curious about how things work at the hospital. His reason for my presence was that it would influence the doctor away from accepting the (usual) bribe for service. In the end, Sander's ear problem was cured, and the bribe didn't have to be paid "because the American is here".

There is universal health care provided from the government, but since doctors and nurses are paid so little, they take bribes for services, surgery and whatever. Medicines are often counterfeit or expired. Still, the life expectancy is 77.8 years, while in the USA it's 78.1.

Statistics are here:

https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/rankorder/2102rank.html

In the parking lot at the hospital, a man in uniform came to Sander's car, asking for the parking fee. Sander said, "Go away" and drove off. The ticket tout crumpled the ticket and threw it on the pavement. Sander leaned to me and said, "he would have just put the money in his pocket".

We were awarded a grant to purchase dumpsters, but the money will be enough to install them in only about half of the city.

People have been asking me, "You mean to say that there are no dumpsters in Rubik??" This is a clean and green city compared with others, but we have no dumpsters. Only some old concrete cylinders which are manually shoveled out a few times a week. Many of those concrete cylinders are damaged and the trash tends to be strewn around. Chickens, dogs, cats, pigs and even sheep enjoy the trailings.

For this project we first have to plan for where to install the dumpsters, according to such criteria as accessible places for the collection vehicle and proximity to apartment buildings and businesses. The old concrete containers have to be removed so that they are no longer used.

Next, the city must build platforms for installation of the dumpsters. After we buy the dumpsters we must negotiate a contract to rent a collection vehicle from the neighboring city of Rrëshen to empty them. Garbage collection trucks are extremely expensive, and Rubik does not own one yet.

Photo: A Gjushje (grandmother) in traditional garb, walking with a friend. A stray cat and concrete bin, with the abandoned copper factory in the background.

Currently--and unfortunately--garbage is deposited on the riverside for its final resting place. However, within a couple of months a modern landfill will be finished where the city's waste can be deposited properly. I explain these things to show some steps in implementing this project--there is so much more that I would like to write!

This summer another project begins for developing a strategic plan for improving the environment of the municipality. I never thought I would be so involved in environmental issues (I'm more of a computercrat), but this has been satisfying work.

At a lunch last week I began to put pepper on my salad, but our Finance Director across the table reached across to stop my hand, saying "DON'T!!" Albanians may not like pepper on their salad, but I do.

At another lunch I was told that I should not pour vinegar because it did not have lettuce in it. These were curious culinary objections.

Another time with two American girls, we were sitting outside when a strange woman approached our table. The stranger peered at the items on the table while we looked at her. Then she reached down and took a piece of bread!

My friends and I became paralyzed, not understanding what was happening. The woman next reached down and took a piece of meat from Leslie's bowl! The waitress told her to go away, and we just began laughing at the absurdity of the event.

Photo: Berat, the "City of 1 million windows", or 10,000. A really nice city, in any case.

In Berat we were desperate to find ice cream but finally found a vendor. It was late at night, and I noticed "Red Bull"-flavored ice cream. I asked the server, is that REALLY Red Bull flavor??

The customer next to me politely explained that it was indeed ice cream. Replying, "no shit", I pursued the question about its flavor. Again, the person next to me insisted that it was ice cream. "No shit", again, but it turns out that it was Red Bull ice cream, my small taste with a little plastic spoon proved it.

This was for dessert, following a typical dinner during which fresh olive oil flew everywhere.

Yesterday afternoon I was still waking up from a nap while two friends were knocking at the door. They entered my apartment as I was putting my shorts on.

In one hand a large bottle of raki, "This is from Mayor Mark", and in another hand several bags of food which included sausages, tomatoes, cucumbers and onions. "Put the raki and food in the fridge. We are coming over later with the mayor and others to watch the France-Italy game".

Then, one asked me why did I let the new volunteer walk around town by herself today?

I cleaned my apartment a little in anticipation of the party... around 9PM I was reading The Economist and noticing that nobody else was here, and also understanding that it was likely nobody would come.

My friend showed up late at night while I was sleeping (he sleeps here sometimes). In the morning he said, "Mark lied again". Albanians who do not know English well will throw the word "lie" around with less seriousness than we do.

Tonight Mark called me at 9:30, around the time when I was fully prepared to go to bed inviting me to come to a coffee. You can't refuse an invitation from the mayor, even if he didn't show up for a party that he organized at your own home.

We talked about a lot of things including the creation of an agricultural cooperative for our municipality, land rights of former industrial zones, etc., and it went on until too late. I missed the early bus for Tirana the next morning.

I was walking to work one day and was immediately invited to a coffee. I said that I would meet him in 'one minute'.

But, I happened to spend one hour in the office eating flies and forgetting about the invitation. My inviter came to the office, yelling "Where are you!??! Are you American?? You should be correct!!"

I replied to him, "Are we not Albanians, what's the problem?” One minute? Five minutes? One hour? What's the difference? Schedules and commitments do not usually function here, so I didn't understand why he was upset. But my response has become a piece of Rubik lore.

Another joke I have heard frequently at the cafe is “per krishtin”, or “for Christ’s sake”, from a time when my counterpart was imploring me to drink a coffee/raki one morning. Even for Christ's sake, I will not drink a raki in the morning.

I went to Novosele on Tuesday to help a friend with a project. Novosele is a village near the beach city of Vlore, perhaps 125 miles (200 km) from Rubik. I'm guessing at the distance, but getting there was a characteristically Albanian travel experience.

In preparation, five minutes before leaving, I looked at a map to find where Novosele is. It turns out the map was wrong, but it had the general area correct, so I knew to head southwest.

1. I walked from my apartment to the street. After three minutes a car pulled beside me and the driver asked me where I am going. "Come on," he said.

2. Nearly two hours of travel passed. The driver left me on the highway near Durres, but first hailed a rickety minibus for me. The minibus (furgon) took me to the city of Durres, where I stopped at a cafe to drink an orange/carrot juice.

3. Finishing my orange/carrot juice, I asked the waiter at the cafe, "Where are the buses for Vlore?"

"The train station, there," he pointed. At the station I asked several people where are the buses for Vlore, because I could not see any.

One person told me to go away, like I was a stray dog. Another told me in mixed Albanian/Italian that I must catch a city bus to another station, so I walked to a bus stop.

4. While I was waiting for the city bus, a taxi driver approached me to offer a ride. But I refused and caught a city bus to the next station.

I sat down on the bus, and who did I sit beside? A kid from Rubik, whose computer I fixed last month. He rode with me all the way to the bus station and helped me find the correct bus. Rather miraculously the bus was waiting there when I arrived.

"You are lucky," he said to me.

5. Riding the bus for about two hours, it passed the village slightly when I asked the ticket boy "are we in Novosele?" It was hard to tell because the town consists of only a handful of buildings. "This is it," he replied. I got off the bus and entered the cafe beside the water station, ordered a coffee and called my friend.

6. "Yeah, I'll send somebody in a car to pick you up".

I outline this only to explain how sometimes things just happen around here. When I walked out of the door that morning, I didn't have much of a clue how I would arrive in Novosele. But it just happened. Rastësisht, as people say frequently, or by chance.

Photo: A lunch in Rreshen with mayors, Peace Corps people, etc.

We had a celebration last weekend in Rubik with some Italians. The Italians have put a statue of a saint on top of the tallest mountain in our region. It matches a statue on a mountain of the same name in Italy. There was a concert and then a dinner with the mayors, an Italian mountaineering club, our Peace Corps country director and many others.

Photo: Dignitaries seeing the statue off

Our parliament deputy made a joke about me to the Peace Corps director that probably was not an appropriate thing to say to my boss. Later, over dinner the mayor of Rubik made a REALLY inappropriate joke about my Peace Corps friend from the neighboring town to the director. My friend was and still is livid. Ah, Albanian humor.

I got over the embarrassment from the joke at my expense. However, the other may take some more time. Still, the event was a great deal of fun and included choirs singing, dancing and a whole lot of eating.

Photo: The helicopter in flight

On Saturday afternoon I went to Puka to visit a friend who has finished his two-year service and is leaving for America soon. Most of the people from that group have been leaving, while a fresh group of 37 new faces has arrived.

Now that it's officially summer in Albania (seasons apparently change at the first of the month), I was reminded of a particularly unpleasant debate with a language teacher just over one year ago. I'll write about that in another post.

It's getting very warm, but far from the heat that will come in July and August. I've been debating with people on what's so scary about the heat? I've never had much of a problem with summer heat, it's the cold in winter I can not abide.

So, why can't we sit outside for a drink, where there's a breeze and there's no air conditioner inside? We will walk inside and out to determine which environment is cooler. But it seems that whenever I sit outside, the waiter or waitress tells me that it's too hot and there's too much dust.

Why can't we leave for Tirana at 9AM? Because it's going to be hot there, we must leave much earlier. But it's not even hot yet, I'm always saying. Anyway, I've seen a few exposed man-bellies already, and the women really look nice.

I've asked a few people what's the problem with warmth? In the winter, how can you sit in a cold cafe (or at work) without heat for hours and not be uncomfortable? I think the aversion to using heaters in the winter and avoiding summer warmth may be connected. This is an issue I've been pondering.

A good day of meetings in Tirana today. We are checking prices on software to manage taxes and accounting at the city hall. Then we met with our Member of Parliament who agreed to sign the funding application when it is ready.

Last week the new Peace Corps teacher arrived for a visit, and it looks like she will do well when she moves to Rubik later this month. It will be nice to have an American friend in town, but life has been pleasant being the lone special one here.

She had a misunderstanding with her future co-worker much later in their relationship than I had with mine one year before. That is to say, the misunderstanding occurred five days after their initial meeting instead of upon their first meeting.

Yesterday my counterpart and I were chatting about misunderstandings when I told him that we have them frequently. He had look of shock on his face, which was easily noticed by another person in our office. I was shocked that he was shocked. The other person quickly slinked out of the room to avoid hearing a potentially awkward exchange. But it was defused, another small misunderstanding under my belt.

Photo: At lunch in the village Katund i Vjeter with their elementary school director and my counterpart

Photo: A mother and baby gomar in the village. The word gomar, like its English counterpart can also be used to describe people : )

I was in a meeting today that erupted into unusually high volume, regarding a project that I am working on now. We are developing a plan to network all of the computers in the city hall and purchase financial management and tax administration software. This will likely be the most complicated project so far because it involves fairly radical changes in how finances and revenue are managed, sharing of information among city departments and training.

Ants have been enjoying my apartment lately. I suppose they like crumbs and sticky stuff, but I've been wondering, how do they come up to the fifth floor?

Shortly after I moved into this apartment, Mayor Mark said "congratulations for your new home". After thanking him, I said "you are invited to visit when you like".

He replied, "there's no need for an invitation. I'll come when I want". And so, tonight after 9.30 I heard somebody knocking on my door, thinking who in god's name could it be?

"Come on, were going to eat fish for dinner." We ate fish, freshly caught from the River Fan in Rubik, and were carrying on until about midnight.

Tomorrow I'm going to a village for lunch, so I will probably skip eating byrek in the morning.

Photo: Kruja Castle, Kruja. The center of Skanderbeg's resistance against the Ottoman Turks.

“Albanian language is difficult because it has 36 letters, while English only has 26.”

Albanians are very proud of their language and alphabet, but it's the grammar that tweaks me. While I still can not pronounce the letter 'L', more important is that making plural words and conjugating verbs is still game of luck. This is a fun topic to debate about every week.

“Clinton or Obama?”

Albanians know a lot about our Presidential campaign and have taken sides. Very few talk about McCain, I'm guessing until the candidates are finally settled for the November election. I've always been uncomfortable debating about our politics beyond a superficial level, but it depends on with whom. The campaign is always good for a chat about the news.

I’ve taught a couple of people at work how to say “None of your business” in English. I thought it would be a fun way to not answer invasive questions like "who is your favorite person at work"; or what I think about an explosive local political issue, which if I give an answer it will be repeated until everybody in town knows what The American thinks.

So, I asked my counterpart (who knows no English) what he did last weekend. He looked at me seriously and responded, "It's not your business," then smiled and looked back at his computer.

Photo: From a hike in Rubik

Of course, there's an Albanian version of this expression; "S'ke punë me [insert word]". I was asking another co-worker about his family:

"How's Fredi, your son?"

"Good"

I went on to ask about his granddaughter, but accidentally used the word for daughter.

"You have no business with her!”

Alarmed, I said, "Oh, but I meant your granddaughter!"

"I love her very much," he replied.

To explain this a little further, he's an older, traditional village man. It may not be appropriate for me to ask about his daughter, so I did not take any offense.

There are some other people I've met who take a very negative attitude to improving life in this country, and they are easy to identify (they only open their mouths). If I'm in the mood I engage them, then if I prefer, I avoid them religiously

For example:

“You are the right person in the wrong place”

I didn't reply to this. It stung a little in the moment and I changed the subject.

“You are smart, but you should be smart enough not to come here.”

Same goes for this one.

I lost my camera at Dulles airport along with all of the pictures from the trip to America. Actually, it was not my camera but the one that I had bought for one of my co-workers.

Mark picked me up from the airport with our friend Nik. I was absolutely without sleep, so the first order of business was to drink a coffee. Well, I think we would have had a coffee in any case. Then we took the 1-hour drive to Rubik and ate a lunch over some nice conversation. I was tired, but my mood was lifted by their company.

My first week back in Albania was filled with concerts and parties for the Feast of the Ascension. On Thursday a friend visited from Puka and we went to lunch in a village with the city council president. In the village we stayed at a beautiful home with vineyards, cherry and fig trees. I practiced my strategy of eating slowly, so that they would not continuously add food to my plate.

A few days later the Vice-Mayor said that he had heard from some high school girls (i.e., his daughter and her friends) that I am engaged. I suppose that people saw me around town with my friend--who is a girl--and made that assumption. "She is my colleague", I explained, "not my fiance".

Anyway, there will be fantastic opportunities for speculation and rumors once the Peace Corps English teacher arrives here in June for her own 2-year stay.

Photo: One of the problems we are trying to address with money from donors--dumpsters

I’m leaving for a visit to the USA tomorrow morning, thus work began crazy today. Beginning from my walk to work, someone stopped his car in the road, handed me a Britney Spears disc, and asked me to rip track #1 from it.

At the office people were coming at me from every direction at the same time for hours with requests for help, as I was thinking to myself, "I'm handling this unusually well today".

I snapped for a moment when my counterpart began poking me as three other people were talking to me simultaneously. I yelled, “This is crazy!” in English. He became visibly upset because he didn’t understand what I said and was offended.

It wasn’t the first time that I let off steam on him, but in any case, he put me through the second most embarrassing moment of my life two weeks ago. Though our misunderstandings are frequent and unexpected, we always resolve them. We even had a misunderstanding upon our first meeting, then another on my first day in Rubik.

I believe these events have had no relation to any fault of his or mine. They have everything to do with the differences of culture. Patience and openness on both sides are essential, but there will always be times when the differences foster conflict. The solution is to listen to each other afterwards, then learn from the experience.

Anyway, we’ve begun to see some results from our work. The municipality has recently been awarded money for two important projects from donors, and I am proud of the work that we've been able to accomplish so far.

Photo: We have been awarded funding from the Dutch Embassy to renovate this dangerous footbridge which links a village with the main road to Rubik

I finally have my own apartment--the view is lovely from my balcony on the fifth floor, but it’s a really basic place with the popular Turkish toilet/shower combo.

Mayor Mark is arriving at 4AM to take me to the airport. He said that we’ll stop for a coffee on the way.

I was really surprised to see the following quote from me in an Albanian newspaper, “When people from my country ask me about Rubik, I tell them that it is a city nice and big enough, but our mayor is larger than Rubik”.

I have said this to only one Albanian person (not a reporter) in a rather casual conversation at a local lokal--but the word got around. The idea I was communicating was that our mayor has large ideas and charisma for such a small town--and it turns out he was quite flattered.

Photo: My counterpart, Sander taking video on a hike (Gjin in the background)

But let’s just say that everything I say in the community is broadcasted. Learning this language has sometimes been my undoing (numerous foot-in-mouth instances), but has made me more satisfied in developing friendships with some of the dearest people I have ever known.

I know that Easter was a month ago, but Orthodox Easter is just a couple of weeks away! My Easter was a lot of fun with festivities stretching from Thursday until Monday. On Saturday I went to visit a family in Lezhe, and it was one of the times when I have eaten so much dinner that I felt sick.

On Sunday morning the family insisted that I eat breakfast, even though I had no appetite at all. Intending to leave at 9 am, instead I stuck around in cafes, getting a phone call or two from the next person on my agenda (“Where are you?!”)

Hitchhiking a ride on Easter Sunday, I came back to my town for a lunch with one of the local politicians. I am not allowed to utter his first name, since I pronounce it like an Albanian obscenity. (Try to pronounce the name “Paul” with the special Albanian L). Or, please come to Albania and say the English word “car”, and see how people react.

On Easter Monday I walked up the hill to the village behind Rubik. I asked somebody where is the road to that village, and he answered, pointed, “over there”, vaguely. So, I started walking up that hill with the belief that I would find the road.

It was raining and muddy, but I had put on my boots for the trek. Arriving there for lunch, again I ate too much, with a coffee/raki and some delicious home-made wine. There was a baby in their house that they call “mut i vogel” or “little turd.”

Photo: Mut i Vogel

One of my favorite Albanian curses is “eat flies”. I hear my counterpart say this expression every day, often mixed with other curses. It can be used in a lot of contexts. For example, I have to go do some annoying job, like fixing a password for the fifth time on the same computer. "See you later. I'll be in the Finance Office eating flies."

It is interesting to see how the importance and strength of ties among family members and social and religious identification colors life here. Albanians are generally not religious, but most proudly identify according to Muslim, Catholic or Orthodox, even if many do not practice or have have much knowledge on their respective faiths. For example, I asked an Orthodox person what’s the Albanian word for Lent and the first answer was “Ramadan”. But identifying with that religious group spans back generations, affecting what holidays you celebrate, your name and with whom you marry and socialize.

Photo: The National Museum at Skanderbeg Square in Tirana

Lastly, I made a big oversight last summer by forgetting to mention how to keep cool on hot days if you are a male! If you pull up your T-Shirt and rest it on your belly, the exposure keeps you cool and everyone does it.

I know that it works because I tried it one time while away from the public.

On the bus to Montenegro, my friend Jennie asked an Albanian man--in the Albanian language--“How long is this trip?” He answered, “I don’t speak English.” I’ve never heard that before! As an aside, Jennie later told me that I send “useless” text messages with my cell phone. And it’s true.

It was startling to see the contrast between the borders. In Albania’s neighbors there is electricity and running water non-stop. Most of all, there is order everywhere--on streets, in shops, public, etc. For example, if you need to catch a bus, there is a schedule. There are even stop lights.

It was a culture shock, but still it seemed strange to me to be around non-Albanian people. A good part of my social life for the past nine months has revolved around sitting with Albanian friends in cafes or with families in their homes.

Photo: A tree in the snow in Zagreb, Croatia

In Vienna I saw some churches and bought some chocolate. After Vienna I took an overnight train to Serbia. In a sleepless Belgrade daze at 6 in the morning, I exited the train at the wrong station. There was no sign of any people who could help me, but a very kind Serbian girl told me how to get on a bus for the city center. “But I have no money,” I said to her. She gave me 100 dinar!

Photo: With Matt in Vienna

This appeared to be a lot of money, since it was in two, crisp currency notes. I discovered later that it was worth only about $1. In any case, the bus driver didn’t ask for a fare. It turns out that in Serbia they have paper currency for denominations beginning from about one nickel’s worth.

Later, in Ohrid, Macedonia I was with two of my Peace Corps friends. We walked for hours around the city, visiting several Orthodox churches, plus a mass and a castle. For dinner we settled at a fine restaurant and ate four courses among the three of us with a couple of salads. At the restaurant we performed the circle dance to live traditional music with some people and waitresses in the restaurant. The tab: $20.

Photo: An Orthodox church in Ohrid, Macedonia

I’ve been continuing to teach two computer skills classes to young students, and I am tutoring a kid in English. I’ve been really busy with projects in my community, but work is not nearly as fun to share.

Happy winter.

In Rubik, the holiday feasts began on December 17 and ended around January 8, while I discovered that one of my American friend’s hobbies is “staring at the wall”. Although I was working to finish various projects before my Balkan trip, work at the city hall virtually stopped during that period.

I couldn’t walk into the office without an invitation to coffee at a cafe or lunch/dinner at somebody’s home for the holiday occasion. One guy at a cafe watched me scrawling left-handed and asked me, “Why are you writing like that?” I explained to him that I was born this way. He persisted, “No! You were not born that way, you chose it!”

On the 21st I went to a Christmas party in Berat with two of the local mayors. Berat is a city about three hours’ drive south from Rubik.

On the drive to Berat, the mayor of Rubik asked me, “At what time are you leaving for Montenegro tomorrow?”

“At 6 in the morning”

“Do you understand that we are not coming home until 3 at the earliest?”

“Oh”

“Why, Oh?!! HAHAHAHHAHAHA!”

So, I showed up at the party in Berat with about 30 mayors from cities all over Albania, and circle-danced with them and the others. By the end of the night I had a pile of four different kinds of meat on my plate, stacked like pancakes. I had no appetite because I had already been to a holiday party earlier that day, was full from all of the previous courses and had begun a horrible digestive affliction which happened to last for the following three weeks.

We arrived back home in Rubik a little early--about 2AM--I prepared the backpack for my trip around the Balkans. Finally, I fell asleep around 3:30.

Balkan Trip Route:

Since I live in a Catholic region, Christmas will be a big holiday around here. People have told me that the holiday is spent among family, consuming vast amounts of food, wine and raki, as well as other various festivities (circle dancing?). There will be a midnight mass in Rubik and I now can see some decorative lights around town and around the capital, Tirana. Baba Gjysh (Santa Claus) comes for New Years with gifts.

Some American friends and I had a Christmas party this past weekend for all of the Peace Corps people who live in my region. About a dozen people showed up. We prepared eggnog from scratch and listened to Christmas carols. Oh, as well we had a Festivus Pole, feats of strength and a spontaneous airing of grievances.

We invited a couple of Albanian friends who referred to the eggnog as “dhalle”. I had a good laugh because dhalle is actually an Albanian drink made from rancid yogurt (kos) and water. Dhalle is vomit-inducing for most people who haven't been raised with it. For me, eggnog tastes much better than dhalle.

Two of my dearest friends have recently left Albania and returned to America. I have been saddened by this, but I understand their reasons for going home. I still feel like I am in a fortunate situation in a place that has seen a lot of poor fortune.

For Christmas and New Years I will be travelling outside of the country for the first time since I arrived--my first vacation. For the New Year I wish that everyone realizes their resolution... whatever that may be. My own fingers are crossed.

Photo: From a field in Permet

It is remarkable to me when I think of the friends I have made here. Some would give the world to me and I would do the same. One of my Rubik friends took me up the hill to our church recently, the Church of the Ascension. We hiked up the stones above the church to the summit, he with dress shoes nimbly climbing, while I was lagging behind with care. We reached the top where the old bell used to rest.

He explained to me how the bell’s placement was perfectly situated in the point of our valley. On both sides of the point, villages could hear the ring of the bell for funerals and celebrations. I looked at the bell that rests there now, and it was cracked in a couple of places, rusted, and made in Italy. It seemed to me a sad replacement for whatever had been there. The bell is not used now, but from that point we had a view of the mountains, valley, and villages in the sunset.

Photo: Valley in Rubik

For seven months I have been in Albania and have not taken a day off yet. This is the longest stretch of working I have known without a holiday! Now at the end of October now and it’s become very cold because there is no heat anywhere. All of the buildings are drafty, made from concrete with no insulation. You must dress warmly when inside and outside.

My room mate, who dearly calls me his brother, does not use a heater. He goes to work in the morning and usually comes home late in the evening. “What’s the need for heat?” he asked me. I explained that I have been very, very cold lately.

The president of our city council called me the other afternoon, asking me to type a letter for him. He was shocked to see me type without looking at the keys or the computer screen. Afterward, he took me to his white Mercedes, opened his trunk and there were two large, plastic barrels inside. He poured from one barrel a bottle of wine for me.

The homemade wine is not bad at all. They ferment the grapes to make the wine, then add some juice made from grapes to sweeten it. At the end of summer the grapes were ripe, so there is a lot of fresh wine and raki going around. Not to mention, the bevy of grapes I received from various people over the past several weeks. It's simply not been possible to eat all of them, and they are not seedless. You get used to the seeds after a while.

Some of us have made nicknames for each other. Gjin. Every day he wears ties that are a mismatch for his shirt. He has thus been named ‘Gjin Kolaria’, or ‘GJIN, THE TIE’. And they claim that I made up that nickname for him.

We had a city council meeting last month where I was fascinated by what I was seeing. There are 13 councilors grouped in several parties. Over the course of the three-hour meeting it appeared as though a brawl would open up, but it was everything short of a brawl. There was the usual yelling and interrupting, but also frequent, loud pounding of fists, standing and shouting and waving arms.

And then everyone departed collegially. It made me wonder if I wanted to go to another meeting, but I must say that it’s nice to be able to yell at people without hurting feelings or causing a stir. Because it’s normal.

The president of the city council is named Pal (Paul). Hard as I’ve tried, I can not pronounce this name properly. The way I say it is an obscenity in Albanian (the translation in English rhymes with ‘sick’). He prefers that I call him by his last name.

My 33rd birthday passed last month. The tradition in Albania is for the birthday boy to take out his friends and pay for everything. I sidestepped this by getting together with several American friends. We played pool and made tacos after having some Korca beer at a cafe.

Birthday party pic

At work, everybody is back from summer vacation so I’ve been getting busy. People have generally been on vacation from June-August. In order to build relationships with funders, I have been to the American and German embassies and visited some organizations that provide resources. I am also hoping to meet up with the Italian consul in Shkoder next month for a lunch.

I am hoping to go to the Albanian Parliament soon to see how a workday passes there. The Member of Parliament for our region is in town often and he has been a fun person to hang around with. It’s exciting to be able to meet all of these people who have influence here, and it’s a reminder that Albania is such a small country.

Three more weddings, a couple of morning earth tremors, and forest fires.

Photo: View of a church and the mountains in Orosh. We made a one-hour bus ride plus three-hour hike to this village from Rubik. You can see smoke from a forest fire in the top left corner.

I noticed some other peculiarities about the weddings that I thought would be interesting to include. When you approach the wedding in a group it is very important the order in which you file. The people in my group quarreled over where I should stand in the line; I began in position number four, then one, but ended up at number two. The mayor told people that I didn’t understand what they were doing with me, and he was correct.

They did the same thing at another wedding, then fussed over where I should sit. The decision was to seat me in the middle of the table, so I could listen to them shouting jokes at each other as I sat in between. You must speak loudly because the music is at concert arena volume. One guy told me that he knows two words in English: ‘YES’ and ‘SEXY’.

My mayor and another person were both wearing bright orange shirts to one wedding. When I mentioned to one that they both had the same shirt, he said, ‘yes, but mine is better.’ Later, I said to the mayor, ‘hey you have the same shirt as Viktor.’ He replied, ‘I know, but mine is better.’

Anyway, Viktor was sitting next to me at the wedding, and I asked for a pen from someone to his left. Reaching behind his back I took the pen and accidently marked a long, black line on the back of his orange shirt. He didn’t notice, but I and the guy who handed me the pen were cracking up. Funny thing was that Viktor wore the same shirt to work the next day and the mark was still there. He wore it again one week later and it had disappeared.

The father of the groom at one wedding told me, ‘Mr. Schroeder, you are an imperialist’ and he says it almost every time he sees me. Good thing he’s joking. I call him a revisionist in retort, though both charges could land a person in prison not so long ago. All of us from the Rubik City Hall got up from our table and did the Albanian circle dance. Though I don’t know the steps, and will dance only under extreme coercion, it can be easily faked.

Cigarettes are offered frequently during a wedding to all male guests from the families of the bride and groom. It can be impolite to not accept, but if you pat your hand on your chest and bow your head while saying ‘no’, it’s not a problem.

After a wedding, the couple and wedding party leave in cars and blow their horns all the way to where ever they are going. I should mention that Albanian horns are five times louder than American ones, and each summer Sunday is filled with the deafening harmony of horns.

When I told my co-workers about the way we give gifts in America--the wedding registry and such--they thought it was very strange. ‘I want to have my wedding in America,’ one said.

Photo: Camping in Orosh

Well, I bit the bullet not so long ago. I’ve taken up the unavoidable custom of kissing men on the cheeks in greeting or farewell. Awkward early on, I never knew for sure when to go for it, or on which cheek to plant the first one. It’s a charming way of expressing closeness which is common in many cultures, but which I will likely never accustom myself to.

The most interesting event of the past few weeks was my first Albanian wedding. Until the end of the event, I truly thought I was going to a wedding. In reality it was unbridled partying for fifteen hours spanning two days, but merely in regards to a wedding occasion.

I still don’t know where or when the couple were actually married. It began on a Saturday night around 8pm with a call from the Mayor. I met him, a member of the national parliament, and a professor—the distinguished group with whom I would attend the event—to depart in a 4X4 deep into a village about 40 minutes outside of Rubik.

Upon arrival, we were escorted into an old, stone village home that looked like something which would only be on display in the US. As is tradition for guests, we were seated in a room as a hostess brought out coffee and glasses of raki on a little tray. It was so hot in the room that I could not stop sweating. After finishing the drinks, each of us left 2,000 Lek under our cups as a host recorded our gifts and we were taken down to the party.

The party was a huge dancing fest with loud music and 150 people. We sat down at a table and chatted, made 1,000 toasts, and ate vast amounts of food. I learned early on that my ability to speak in Albanian increases dramatically with a little raki.

The father of the groom told me that he had been making and saving raki for two years in preparation for the event, and I believed him because I saw hundreds of large Fanta bottles filled with it. At around 2am the groom arrived, riding on the crowd as if he were a rock star. I got home at about 3 in the morning and went to sleep, exhausted.

The funny thing is, at 7.30am my roommate called and asked me to be ready in 10 minutes to go back to the party. Bewildered, I got ready and there I was in the middle of the pandemonium again.

It was a larger party on Sunday, about 250 people. The bride and groom arrived in the afternoon, and according to one of the traditions, the bride appeared to be miserable and sullen for the entire day. She is meant to be unhappy because she is leaving her family’s home. The bride and groom danced at the center of the party as people went up and showered them with money, in the bride’s hair, in their clothes, pockets, and everywhere else. At the end of this ritual, the groom pulled out his handkerchief from a pocket and set it on fire.

Photo: View from a hike up to a church in Lac. This church is situated above a small cave where people are said to be healed. At certain times of the year people make pilgrimages there and sleep overnight along the windy road with thousands of candles lit.

Photo: A pig in front of a 'pillbox' bunker in Laç. Laç is known for its pigs, where they and their piglets roam free, cleaning up garbage, and are presumably eaten.