much time in this blog has been spent in awe of the macedonian people, the country and it's dedicated volunteers. last week i got a chance to see a country not all that different from my own although six times it's size. ukraine: a giant mass of a country with two different languages on either side of the country (not all that different from the macedonian and albanian that represent my country). i traveled there for a training on how to educate teenagers from southeast europe on how to adjust to american culture in a year long exchange. but what ended up happening was a series of "deja vu" attacks pitching back to the time when i found myself adjusting to life in macedonia, comparing the two cultures and wishing i could change so many things by waving some kind of magical device. i have indeed come a long way. for the differences that were pointed out in the training were like smacks in the face to me for i had completely forgotten about the fact that we don't say, "please pass the butter." here...we say, "give me the butter." it's not rude. it's completely acceptable. or as we were trained to say: it's not better. not worse. just DIFFERENT. now, anyone could argue that some things are simply worse, but that is for another blog. i forgot about comparing cultures. i have been in the balkans for such a long time that i somehow forgot to compare, or even consider my surroundings. is it bad to continue the comparisons? is it acceptable to even consider? should i hang up my thinking cap and call this place home and stop the questioning? i have for about a half a year at this point. i don't think that makes me more "integrated" as my peace corps report form would say. i don't think it makes me a better volunteer. i think i forgot that. forgot that no matter how much we try to integrate and build relationships in our communities we will still be outsiders. and that's a GOOD THING. we're a wide angle lense, an objective observer for the most part. what a gift! what an incredible way to help macedonia.

i mentioned ukraine earlier...i did not forget about the land that created the easter egg. i did not forget about the dozens of strangers that pointed my friend and i in the right direction in our travels across the country. the country of ukraine reminded that observing a new culture, recognizing it's differences from our own, good or bad, is refreshing. i saw beautiful architecture, festivals of crafts, churches with history, ghettos with even more history and a population of unpaid senior citizens that broke my heart. i saw the capital, kyiv, the prague of ukraine, lviv, and a village in the south, pravel, that is to give me some kind of scope for the diversity and quality of life in ukraine. i'm sure i barely scratched the surface, but i talked to ukraine's volunteers and discovered that life in ukraine is not so different from life in my own peace country, although a lot of them have to take bucket baths and pee in outhouses, riddled with corruption, plagued by poor quality of english education, and constantly dogged by a nationalism that inspires hatred, not love. But then we got to talking about the things that they absolutely adored about their country, including the borsht, the dedication to family and the unfailing kindness and hospitality of it's people. And agian, i say REFRESHING. this doesn't just go for peace corps volunteers but for anyone willing to step outside their own cultural safety net and witness the customs and creations of another culture. i can't wait for my next adventure.

second to the right and straight on till' morning.

for those unaware, those are the directions to the star where one may find neverland.

i find myself standing on my tiptoes looking out into the night sky looking for this star as i have done since i first heard the story of peter, his gang of lost boys, the fearsome captain hook, tink, and his beloved wendy. i look out not because i know peter will fly in and take me by the hand to lead me to his world of adventure but because i need to believe in a world where flying, pirates, mermaids, fairies and pretend are alive and well. i think looking into the night sky for a boy chasing his shadow or a ball of light chasing a shadow is believing in more than make believe; it's believing in the future. i wouldn't say i live in a world of gloom and despair but it seems to me that the people around me are looking less and less up into the skies. i have never been more acutely aware of my status as an optimist in a country full of very few comings and goings, where regular seems to be a constant. but as i continue to stare out my tiniest of windows i remember why it's so important to continue to hope for magical things to happen in life, to continue to expect the unexpected, and to know that fantastic events are just around the corner. keep looking to the skies.

x-ray lab tech: take off all your clothes.

me: excuse me?

x-ray lab tech: take off all your clothes, please.

me: are you sure i need to take off ALL my clothes.

x-ray lab tech: yes, take them off.

this is the conversation that took place right before i had my chest x-rayed in the macedonian capital, skopje. it was quite the experience to be bare breasted facing a wall and then to be told by the x-ray lab tech: DON'T MOVE! DON'T BREATHE!

as the camera took the picture of the bones in my upper body i thought about the fleeting nature of life and how we can so quickly be naked, not breathing or moving facing a wall with our hands up. when i looked at my x-rays i saw the lungs of a young smoker which was not comfort when it normally feels like i'm the only non-smoker in this country. according to the chatty doctor, who thankfully did not ask me to take off all my clothes, i am in the early stages of bronchial pneumonia. essentially, a bad cough with a fancy name.

although, when i heard the term bronchial pneumonia i had an image of my grandfather in a white room. he was coughing terribly hard. the hallway outside echoed with it's tinny timbre. i remember vividly because it was the first time i was not allowed to see my grandfather. only my grandmother was allowed to go in to feed him soup and tea, which he barely touched. i remember, spying through the crack in the door to see the soup dribble down his chin so frequently it pained me to see him so weak. i took to pacing the upstairs hallway, peeking in from time to time from the outside to watch the white blanket on the bed rise up and down ever so slowly. it became clear to my grandmother she could not shake me from my vigil so after his soup one day she let me come in for five minutes. "Only five minutes, Marg or you'll be in the next bed and we don't want that." all i could think was, "don't we?" i sat next to my grandfather, who had put his head back down on the pillow to resume his slow and steady breathing, the kind with a rough wheeze. I sat down on the floor next to the bed and i picked up my grandfather's hand and began to examine every single inch. every pore, every vein, every freckle. no detail was too minute to escape my notice. as i stroked my grandfather's hand i took a picture. i don't think the brain controls the images that it collects for archiving. i don't know why i remember my grandfather's entire hand and not his face. i cannot say why that moment is etched on my brain forever, and what's more, i don't think i ever knew that memory was there at all. all i know is i want to be under the crisp white sheets of the twin bed in the last bedroom on the right on the top floor of 32 Wells Avenue right now. i want soup to trickle down my chin.

more than anything, i want to stroke that hand one more time. and as i breathe deeply and hear the thick wheeze emit from my mouth i can almost feel it.

a friend of mine asked me what i was doing tomorrow, the second of january. i assumed she was going to ask me to coffee or something of that nature. on the contrary, she wanted to know because the saying in Macedonia is that what you do on the second of january defines the tone you set for the coming year. it is an indicator, if you will, about what the year ahead will be for you.

i pondered the saying, thinking it was strange that the second of january was the day to mark the tone and not the first. why not start the year off running? why not begin on the first second of the first day?

but isn't that just the problem most americans living in macedonia face? we question the slow pace of this country. it aggravates our aggressive, active and, to be frank, bull-like instincts. and so we spend countless months learning to slow ourselves down, and join the slower but ever continuing current of the river we've joined.

bringing in my second new year in macedonia makes me realize the beauty of what my friend asked me. she is asking me how i plan to make 2010 my own. AND. AND, she gave me a day, a whole day to answer that question. now, who knows if 1 day is enough. but i will say that i mean to cross off january first from every calendar in my life from this day hence. it is not a day for anything but rest, reflection, prayer and the renewal of spirit so that by the next day, after properly thinking on it, i can kick the coming year's ass by bringing my full convictions and purpose to it.

as for tomorrow i plan to wash a LOT of dirty laundry, walk in the park with my friends and begin writing my Macedonian cookie cookbook. how's that for PURPOSE?

there are some customs that cannot be explained. for example, i can't really rationalize why people here start partying at 1:30 am. nor can i say why my students dip their fingers in a bucket of water upon entering the school. no one really knows the effects of promaja (the disease that blights all macedonians who expose skin, wet hair or let a cross breeze in an enclosed space) as it has no scientific basis.

and so i am left to ponder these mysteries on a snowy saturday when i see nery a kavadarchanec or kavadarchanka (male or female from kavadarci) out enjoying the massive accumulation of perfect snowman making material. this kind of snow is also suitable for sledding and snow ball fighting. it does no good to the people just sitting there. sure it looks pretty. but what fun is life without dancing in the snow? i ask this question. and still, it goes unanswered. for those interested in activities and ways to enjoy snow, i refer you now to Irving Berlin's masterpiece: Snow.

Snow

It won't be long before we'll all be there with snow

Snow

I want to wash my hands, my face and hair with snow

Snow

I long to clear a path and lift a spade of snow

Snow

Oh, to see a great big man entirely made of snow

Where it's snowing all winter through

That's where I want to be

Snowball throwing that's what I'll do

How I'm longing to ski through the snow-oh-oh-oh-oh

Those glist'ning houses that seem to be built of snow

Snow

Oh, to see a mountain covered with a quilt of snow

What is Christmas with no snow

No white Christmas with no snow

Snow

I'll soon be there with snow

I'll wash my hair with snow

And with a spade of snow

I'll build a man that's made of snow

I'd love to stay up with you but I recommend a little shuteye

Go to sleep

And dream

Of snow

it snowed today. the excitement and joy on the street was palpable in the faces of everyone i passed on the sidewalk. nothing like a fresh coat of white to change the face of a dirty city in a pictoresque holiday scene. of course, it's days like these when i wish i was a wizard and i could aparate to new york city, if only for an hour, and see my favorite holiday hot spots. every city season has a season and christmas has to be it for new york. my neighbors are always anxious to hear about new york at christmas and the strange thing is i can describe it till i'm blue in the face but nothing captures new york at christmas like being there: ice-skating in bryant park, walking by the tree in rockefeller center, sitting on santa's lap at Macy's...yeah, i can still do that...not really, but i'm gonna do it anyway.

Anyway, the magical effect of snow is enough to put a smile on anyone's face. huzzah for snow!

i remember a time when the children in my neighborhood were all getting diagnosed with add. i felt so terrible. they had to go to special doctors. take special medicine. it was indeed an epidemic that was sweeping the suburbs and i thanked my lucky stars every day i wasn't cursed with what was plaguing concerned families all over my town.

here i am, more than a decade later and guess what's happened. the wonderful world of attention deficit disorder has come to me. i'm not saying i've been clinically diagnosed. nothing of the sort. in fact, i'm guessing when i return to the land of my native language this magical disorder will slowly leave me. at least, i hope it will not stick around for i'm positive it could get me into a lot of trouble.

i started to develop this attention deficit skill on the first day i arrived at my host family's house. as we sat down to eat and visit with all the neighbors and relatives i began to realize that there was no way i could understand what was happening. no matter how hard i focused at this point, the language was simply a mystery. so i began to drift away. i'd never been able to leave the earth before in my mind. it was never a skill i acquired in school, as most students learn how to drift off when they're bored in class. if i was tired of a class i would simply postulate on how the professor thought any of this information was valid or interesting in my life. truly, i was never one for vacating my body and drifting off to never never land (though it has been my dream for as long as i can remember).

so as my eyes began to glaze over i thought, well, just for tonight. however, that night became the gateway drug to a whole manner of out of body experiences. i became a present but absent body in most seminars i attended, school functions, school plays, concerts, art shows, feasts, local culture festivals, even simple visits with my neighbors and colleagues. 5 or 10 minutes and i am gone. hopeless. i only began musing on this topic as i again vacated my chair mentally at a multimedia event at the house of culture tonight. around the third speech i came across a thought: when did i become so good at this? when did i become a champion glazer? how did this happen?!!

and i suppose the answer is terribly obvious: try focusing on this...Пратка од 80 илјади вакцини Х1Н1 произведени од Глаксо Смит Клајн, од Холандија утре ќе пристигнат во Македонија, соопшти вечерва Амбасадата на Кралството Холандија во Македонија Како што се наведува во соопштението, вакцините се дел...

yeah, that's what i thought.

last time i wrote anything on this blog was more than two months ago. nobody reads this anymore. but i want to be quite clear that i do, nay, i will not write anything that isn't worth reading; hence the silence. it occurs to me that a year ago today I moved to the fair city of Kavadarci. it's been a journey to be sure and as i round the bend and look to my jubilee year and count down the days to my return to the US i wonder why there has been nothing interesting to write about. i mean, i do live in a city over 5,000 miles from my home. surely, something has got to strike me as odd occasionally and evoke a written response. however, the more i think about this the more i realize that the reason nothing seems quite so fabulous is because this is my home now. this is my life. sure it won't be my life forever but for the moment my life is kavadarci. my life is macedonia. my life is volunteering and trying to figure out what that means.

i suppose i now know that it takes approximately a year to accept a new home, a new way of living. and i have. i was out visiting friends last night and one man invited me to his family's house for a slava, local traditional religious celebratory feast, and asked me if i knew what it was. the question seemed positively ludicrous to me. do i know what a slava is? all i could think was: yeah, duh. but a year ago the word slava would have registered maybe as a possible name for a slimy six legged creature.

how quickly things become commonplace and ordinary. how quickly I have moved on from the current adventure and begun dreaming up new ones. before i came here i had no idea what the future had in store for me. and while i did not develop psychic powers in the balkans i can definitively say i know what i want. i know where i want to be. what a complete 180. what a change. i may look similar but i am certainly not the same. it's incredible to think that a year ago i was shivering under the sheets of my new bed wondering if i would ever be able to sleep, if i would ever make it a year here. strangely enough, and with more than enough road blocks behind me, i sit atop that same bed and say: yes.

it occurs to me that no matter what country i'm in no matter the season i am never a morning person. it's only been one day teaching children who scream at the top of their lungs at 7 am and already i want the afternoon teaching schedule back. i wonder who the genius was that decided that schools shouldn't be big but small and have the kids come for half a day. i want to know only because i have spent the entire trying to figure out how to become a morning person. how to be able to start my days early. i did it for a week this summer but that was a combined result of jet lag and depression from post-america bliss.

in the morning i am irritable, cranky, short-tempered and thoughtless. how can i possibly deal with hundreds of maniac middle-school kids? this is the whiniest blog i've ever written, but the plain fact of the matter is that it's my only problem here. i work hard. i'm involved in a lot. i get stuff done and it's great. but before 10 i'm a waste of space.

some days it's so bad i consider hypnosis.

you will wake up every morning at 7. you will wake up energized. you will not be a brick.

so great if it were true.

i remember talking to my dad once about my problem of not being able to do mornings consistently and i remember him suggesting it being something i'd grow out of and get used to mornings. i remember how much comfort i took in that. i'm starting to think maybe...it's not working out like he said it would.

ever since i was a little kid getting on an airplane to visit my uncle in california i've loved to fly. i love the meals with the compartments. i love the movies they play after we reach our cruising altitude. i even love the little socks they give you to keep your tootsies warm in the frigid air. i find nothing more exhilarating than taking off and heading into the clouds. watching the earth from up in the clouds is incredibly calming. as i was flying over boston on my way home to america 3 weeks ago i raised my cup of tea in salute to the city of my grandparents. everything is a joy to me on planes. their city looked so elegant so fancy i had to tip my hat to it.

it was so lovely touching down at JFK i almost kissed the customs officer when he said, "welcome home, maam." THANK YOU! i exclaimed and busted through the doors to where my dad sat patiently at midnight (4 hours after it was scheduled to land). being home was everything i imagined and more. i slept like a baby. i drove with the windows down, my hair blowing in the wind, singing at the top of my lungs. i arrived at my grandmother's house with tears in my eyes suffocating my hero with hug after hug. i did most of the things i planned and saw most of the people who mean a great deal to me.

essentially, the perfect trip, which is probably why when faced with the security guard at JFK on my return 9 days later i seriously considered running back into my step-mom's arms and not going back. even on the plane i confessed to the weary chaperone of a high school european tour group that i was not very elated to be on the plane. sure, i watched the movies, drank the tea, covered my feeties with socksies but it was all coated in this terrible yearning for the ground that i had left behind.

and being back in macedonia hasn't really been a picnic either. i have wallowed like i have never wallowed before. wallowing in the past has usually been brought on by breakups or ... breakups. that 's seriously depressing but i think this is the first time a guy hasn't been even remotely involved in my visiting the land anne of green gables likes to call, "the depths of despair".

anyway, languishing in the heat, sleeping for an unusual amount of time has really only made me sink deeper and deeper into the wretched depths of despair until miraculously, at 5 or so this morning felt a cool breeze float into my room and i decided i needed a walk. it only took me 2 minutes to realize that this city, kavadarci, is beautiful. sure, it's not new york. but why does it need to be. all this time i was comparing trying to trick my brain into thinking it's something that it is NOT. why not appreciate the sunrise that light's up the horizon of my beautiful city laced with elegant vineyards. what a thrill to be strolling along tiny little side streets abounding with flora. honestly, i was nearly skipping and the babas that were up that early looked at me like i was the one woman circus that was flitting into town.

cool. i am a circus. i will never be a native. i'm from new york. but i sure do love my city, my window shopping, my dvd dealer, my meat man, my vegetable and fruit vendors, my ice cream dealer, my landlords, my neighbors, my colleagues, my friends. i am incredibly blessed. i just needed a week of self-pity and isolation to find it at 5 o clock in the morning.

being a proponent of, "it's the little things that count." i am constantly struck by how my colleagues and neighbors here remember to party so frequently. for anyone who doesn't know me on a partying level it is generally acknowledged that i have never been a partyer. indeed, there has to be some kind of party gene that you're born with that i am clearly without because i don't really do it up a lot. but my god do my neighbors party like it's 1999...and how. i say this only because i was there celebrating with them.

celebrating what you might ask. celebrating the mere fact that their son bubo, i know i love the name too, graduated high school. now, i know we have graduation parties in the states. and they're all lovely. but, nothing can really come close to what the macedonians do. understanding first that there is no such thing as a deli here OR caterers here there are three full length tables groaning under the weight of food as well as homemade wine and rakia (whiskey)for every guest. And then there's the singing...i've mentioned this before. i know i have. but i still can't get over how much people sing here (especially the men). young children....old grandpas singing at the top of their lungs traditional songs celebrating the beauty of the land of Macedonia. the closest i ever got to a sing along at a party was when all the musical theater kids stormed a party i was having in college and sang beauty and the beast from the ceilings until they passed out. but bubo's grandfather, god i love that man, walked into this party sustaining a note accompanying the song that was playing and jumped right into this mosh pit of 18 year olds shaking champagne bottles and chanting a traditional macedonian rhyme, which had to be vulgar because everyone was dying of laughter.

as i lay in my bed hours later listening to the celebration continue downstairs i pondered how many times i had witnessed such mirth and joy from an entire room of people spanning the ages of 6 to 75. the answer was: NEVER. i had never in my life witnessed such pure pleasure. and all for a boy who will lay around the house for a long long while until he finds a job. this boy, adorable and loving though he is, does not have any plans. however, they are celebrating with all their might. his family (his entire family) is lifting him up to celebrate this accomplishment and not worrying about what will become of tomorrow. ima vreme...there will always be time for worrying. though, if i know my landlords, and i think i do, worrying will never work it's way into the equation. their love for their son will carry him wherever he wants to go. he'll find a way. they'll find a way. complete faith and trust that the universe will take care of their son is directly linked to the party gene. it allows them to let go, an incredibly rare gift that many people, including myself need to acquire...and fast. because, my god, it looks like so much fun.

i suppose it should have been obvious from the moment i boarded the bus in bitola that going on vacation while living in a foreign country is a strange and beautiful thing. it's not that i consider living in macedonia a vacation. but it's still not quite like living at home. i'm stick in a vacation feeling situation doing work and enjoying witnessing new sites and traditions all the time. so it was strange for me to take a complete break and go on a "real" vacation.

greece, a country so forbidden and yet so tempting to me as a volunteer from macedonia, is the first destination i have visited in my time here. having studied THE GREEKS with my beloved theater professors throughout my undergraduate years that all the knowledge i had accrued would most certainly help me out. wishful thinking, to be sure. i mean, sure, i could talk about the phalanx battle formations at marathon and scream into the night sky ATE, all i wanted, but that really didn't help me understand all the incredible goings on on the island of corfu on easter weekend. this island of unsurpassed beauty is not just some pretty gem of an island with palm trees, sandy beaches, elegant palaces and stoic churches. no, this island opened my eyes to the rich cultural traditions of an orhodox easter.

what a treat as i waited with bated breath for the gigantic red pot to drop from the third floor of the apartment building right above the center. the thunderous crash received a well deserved deafening applause followed by everyone wishing each other good luck in the new year. i was then treated to be being whisked away into a sea of people which i can only compare to mardi gras in new orleans, though i have never been there. the pushing, the shoving, the sweat, the stepping on toes, the yelling, the clinging desperately to sweaty hands lasted about 30 or 200 minutes...it's hard to tell i believe i may have stepped out of my body during that experience. good friday was the most refreshing: instead of a solemn retelling of the death of the son of god i was invited to attend Jesus's funeral march over 30 times. every single church in the city made a funeral for him, including a giant band, choir, and procession that made their way through the entire old city. and when the flower adorned casket went by you could hear a pin drop everyone was silent. i forget how important music is when mourning and then i remembered that on good friday, in the episcopal church, we leave in silence. i much prefer the corfu tradition. and of course lets not forget staying up all night to welcome Christ back at midnight on Saturday night with fireworks and kisses, hugs and celebrations galore.

i can't imagine a more reverent and jubilant way of welcoming back Jesus. corfu is unique in many of it's easter traditions but i'd like to think that all orthodox celebrations resemble this kind of joy and reverence on this holiest of holy weekends in the christian calendar. i can only hope that i take some of these traditions home with me to new york. but then again, then i'd be the girl who got arrested for dropping pots in the street on easter sunday. Happy Easter!

for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction (the only concept i learned in physics). it's possible that time spent adjusting to life in a new place applies this statement. cultural mistakes are made and rectified. words mispoken are laughed about and corrected. the pointing and staring stops at a certain point (i hope). these are not just happenings in the outside world but in the inner workings of my mind. being trapped in my apartment with flu let's my mind wander around all the doings and not doings of my life thusfar. what have i been accomplishing? have i been accomplishing anything? somedays i feel like i have, others no. how is it one measures success? then there's the feeling that for every day of progress and achievement there is a day of setbacks and failures. what does winning look like? will winning be when the river is clean and children respect their teachers? or will winning be when children raise their hands and there's a garbage can next to the river? it's still hard to tell. i'd rather not think about losing.

middle school teachers are saints.

recalling middle school isn't too difficult for me. i can remember the cliques, the jibes, the clothes, not getting into the play, not having friends.

i can remember quite a lot. but what doesn't come instantly to me is why people were so angry and rude and depressed. we left elementary school so excited to finally be growing up and going to a big kids school. why didn't any of that good will and hope transfer over? does a switch turn the summer before middle school starts? dos a switch turn on that demands conformity and a desperate need to be liked by all? where is that switch? who turns it on? i want to find that person. i want to find the instigator for this change and send them 20,000 leagues under the sea i'm so furious with middle schoolers.

for all of my practice. for all of my bravery. for all the times i put myself out there in the past few years. it's like the 7th graders of my school got together before class and decided to take it away from me. slowly, strip by strip, they peeled away any semblance of confidence. anything akin to bravery and hope they wrenched from inside me and threw it out the window which is literally where two of my students started the class: locked out on the terrace connected to the classroom.

ironically, the lesson i was teaching today centered on a "Problem & Solution" theme. " I have a headache.... I'll lie down." i should be able to see this as one day, as something to learn from and make me stronger. but, truth be told, the only thing i feel like doing is canonizing amazing middle school teachers and sending all 7th graders of the world to live in siberia.

where would we be indeed without our elections? where would democracy be? i'll tell you where it would be, in the toilet. elections are a crucial element to ensuring the freedoms of democracy. having said all that my question is why...why, god, why do i have a hundred people outside my window singing and chanting till eleven o clock at night. politicians have seem to be more like super heroes than elected officials. they have their own theme songs and life size card board cutouts. their gleaming smiles and flashy suits exude the glamor that comes from being worshiped by the masses. and i suppose, if that's how it all works then that's the way it is, but i can't help but wonder about the idolizing of politicians when most problems in this government are blamed on politics. macedonia's inability to gain entrance into NATO is said, by the people who i have spoken to, to be a political crisis. where the politicians can't come up with a compromise to suit everyone's interests. so why sing and dance around a politician? it can't be a big surprise that this man may not be the solution to macedonia's problems. i suppose we do the same thing in America. i suppose we too have golden gods that we bow to and politicians in whom we place all our hope. from my objective view i only see hero worship...listening to the speakers blast the theme songs for each political party only confirms my belief that politics, specifically election politics, makes me ill. if there's one thing i have taken from my experience so far it's that if you want something to change you have to do it yourself. don't get someone to do it for you. placing all your hopes and dreams in another only leads to disappointment as i've learned time and time again. what's the point of believing in another when you can just believe in yourself. i seem to have strayed from my original point which is that the political party theme songs give me a headache. But i truly believe that there is nothing so great that cannot be achieved if someone really wants it done. why doesn't one of these politicians sing about that.

i've never been a huge facebook junkie. quite the opposite. rarely do i spend more than 5 minutes on it a day. but lately, i've been receiving notes from friends with lists of "25 randoms" (fun facts about themselves). what they've done. what they aspire to do. what makes them special. and i gotta say i don't think i've ever so much enjoyed spending time on facebook and learning new things about people i thought i knew...but clearly could know more about. i guess it all comes down to the little things as it so often does in most facets of life. it's those little vignettes about childhood play, those who inspire us, the quirks, the ticks that make us all just a little crazy. and i gotta say, reading these randoms makes me realize how much i love the little things. i wish more people could know 25 randoms about me. i wish i could come up with better ones. as i sat there, prying lose old memories all i could think of was too embarrassing to tell tales and high on life quotes. which only goes to show, that we only remember what we do when we're living life to the fullest. those moments: the incredibly awesome, and terribly tragic are the ones that will stick. i can only hope i'll do 25 randoms annually and see how well i've been living life. for those who don't have facebook here are my 25 randoms (it's pretty fun).

1) I sat on my brothers head when he was an infant until it turned purple. I'd like to say it was an accident. But I think he and I both know different.

2) I've wanted to be on the stage ever since I was a little girl and I really think it comes down to loving to dress up in costumes.

3) One of the proudest moments in my life was winning the drama award at CHHS. It wouldn't have been that big of a deal except when I received it I remembered the exact moment 4 years previous when I vowed I would win that award.

4) I never wear heels. I tell people because I'm tall and I don't need to be any taller but I think the real truth is they kill my feet.

5) The most amazing and terrifying woman I know is my grandmother. She's 91 years old, does tai chi every day and can still silence an entire room by quietly clearing her throat.

6) I have an unhealthy love for all things Harry Potter. Dolores Umbridge is the devil and Albus Dumbledore is my god.

7) I own two garbage can. Their names are Groucho and Earl Jr. Yeah I name my garbage cans. You should too!

8) I've always wanted to ride a mechanical bull.

9) My brother, my Uncle Peter and Aunt Connie and I have a spontaneous celebratory ritual called "National Pastimes" where we jump in the air outstretching our arms and pointing our fingers to the sky in expression of sheer joy. It's the one of the weirdest things I do in public on a regular bass. But it puts a huge smile on my face.

10) My mom calls me monkey. My dad calls me twinkle. My grandpa called me itch and my grandma calls me pet. Oh yeah, and they call me bunny at umami cafe.

11) I was in this show choir when I was in middle school. We sang all over New York: Tavern on the Green, Giants Stadium...some cool places. But the only thing I can remember is how stupid we all looked wearing white pants, white sneakers, white turtlenecks and red sweatshirts for every performance.

12) My favorite part about living alone is drinking right out of the milk carton or juice container.

13) I have always worn socks to bed.

14) I have lots of gray hair.

15) I've always thought there was something very elegant about my hands.

16) I lived in a two floor apartment junior and senior year of college. Some of the most fantastic most random events of my life happened in that fabulous place. Best of which was a spontaneous reenactment of the opening song of the Lion King.

17) My least favorite part about cigarette smoke is how it gets into your fingernails.

18) I love the container store.

19) The best new dish I have been introduced to while here in Macedonia is Ruchelle's makeshift macaroni salad: consisting of macaroni, mayo, peas and pineapple chunks. mmmm.

19) When I was 6 I pulled my 1st grade teacher, Ms. McBride, out into the hallway and asked, "So Kathy, how's the roof coming along?"

20) I gave up cursing for lent this year. It's much harder than giving up candy or meat. Kinda makes me worry.

21) I want to read both the Koran and the Bible before I leave Macedonia.

22) The light green color in the Mr. Sketch collection of smelly markers is my favorite smelly marker...second favorite is light blue.

23) I detest turtlenecks, but love turtles.

24) I don't know what to do with my theater degree. So I sit in Macedonian silence and ponder.

25) I love opening my wallet and seeing my peace corps idea staring me in the face. I feel like a grown up.

as i upload pictures my web gallery and i examine all the beautiful places and beautiful people i have met along my journey i can only say one thing for sure: i use the zoom too much. why don't i get closer? why don't i get in someone's face. it's the details that make me take a second glance at any given picture. a long time ago i walked right up to my brother and took a picture so close that i could count almost every freckle on his face. you can see the one dimple on his right cheek and every shade of blue in his eyes. it's one of my favorite pictures. and i never understood why until i looked at all my semi closeup shots of the produce of negotino: the shiny red peppers, the wrinkly brown tobacco leaves, the juicy grapes waiting to be picked. these are well and alive in my memory however, the camera never got as close as i did. and here is the heart of the problem: the zoom. we live in a zoom world. i don't want to see the grime i'll just stand back. nobody gets their hands dirty. i remember every year on halloween i would carve a pumpkin and every year i relished plunging my hands deep into the guts of the pumpkin, ripping out the seeds and the gooey insides. i remember the joy of sinking my hands into slimy, sticky course pumpkin guts and watching the horrified look of those watching me as i greedily attacked the inside. where did that urge for closeness disappear to? where did my messiness go? when did i stop getting close to smell the acrid stench or the familiar aroma? why? i know it's got be because of the zoom. making me think close...when i'm not close enough to even begin to know what i'm looking at.

and it feels amazing. the internet belongs to maggie! it's ok, i'm a good sharer. actually, what Mrs. Heaton, my kindergarten teacher, said in my parent teacher conference was, "She's a leader". AKA: BOSSY! and here i am: almost 18 years after kindergarten and i'd like to think i've grown out of bossing people around. have i grown? perhaps. have i become less spoiled by living in a foreign country? probably not. i whined and complained about not having the internet till the cows came home. i whined till there was no one left to whine to. in essence, being deprived of what i gleaned to be a necessity brought me back to my five year old self. i'll be honest. there were tears. quite a few. and i think one of the reasons it's important to remember this internetless period is that no matter how mature and sensible one thinks one is...the queen of the rice table and lego area can still come screaming back to life. it might take a while. but she's in there.

do you ever find that when you start writing something you end up deleting the first few beginnings you come up with? the first beginning, for me, is always callous and loaded with snobbery that i didn't know i had in me. the second, is usually a whimsical, obtuse philosophical statement that i almost instantly realize is too big a statement for me to tackle in a blog or in life in general. the third statement generally finds it's way into what i begin to think i want to say but not in the way i wish to artistically state it. and by the fourth or fifth time i've usually got something that resembles something that people may consider reading. and that's really all you need. my english teachers in middle school used to call it "the hook". "the hook" was all you needed to really get your readers interested to read...or "bite". i always imagined this tremendous anchor of a "hook" dragging somebody down to the suffocating depths of the sea to read my essays and papers, their eyeballs pressed up against the wet paper in the black depths of the silent sea. in retrospect i seem to have been a morbid child...yes, well. the point of this tangent is that i could write anything i want for this so called hook. and then have the main content of the piece be about something completely different. i don't think i should ever tout that theory in a creative writing class but i think it's worth testing out if only to prove to myself that i can start a blog out talking about the finer points of essay construction and then move on to talk about:

COMFORT food! everyone has their preferred method of indulging. last year, on a lonely tuesday night i could either be seen lying in my bed with a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a horrible chick flick. or gorging myself on pecking duck quessedillas and chardonnay with my lady friends at umami cafe. it's funny to me now though how things that i used to pride myself on never indulging on happen to be THE things i need now to keep me sane. never used to need these items in the states and they are now staples to my incredibly abnormal diet: chocolate, hot chocolate, chocolate cake, snickers, chips dipped in chocolate (we'll call it the fries in the frosty effect), french fries...and yes, i let them put mayo and ketchup on it. and i eat it all. i don't just have a taste. i eat it all. it only goes to show how much i thought i knew my body and what i crave. when really, i know extremely little. i know what it needs in the moment. it seems to me to be the talent that every pregnant woman needs or eventually develops.

wow. that's it. if there was one thing that i had to pin down, at this very second,that i was really good at it would be this: i'm the girl that knows exactly what she wants...to eat.

once upon a time i recall being partially awake in a college course, who's title i shall not disclose in this blog, and listening to a discussion on the universal ability to dance. in the haze of my sleepy mind i remember thinking that the lecture/discussion was baloney. i knew plenty of people who could not dance, nor did they care to dance. OR SO I THOUGHT. i dismissed the optimism of the class and it's predisposition to believe in the beauty of all art thinking that it was all theory and ... baloney.

and now i find myself in macedonia; a country filled with people who love, love, love to express themselves in dance. and i'm not talking just the young girls dancing to pop music. i'm talking the older men who get so happy just being with each other and listening to their country's beautiful music that they can't help themselves. they can't help but dance!

a few weeks ago my host family and i went to a neighboring town for the weekend... a summer home with mountains behind the house and stretching out on the horizon as far as the eye could see. we got to the house which was, quite distinctly isolated from most other dwellings in the already tiny village and as we finished one of the most harrowing off-roading experiences of my life i got out of the car, looked around to take in all the beauty and then thought to myself: what now? seriously, what now? there was very little to do except sit on the lawn, eat, look at the mountains, nap, eat some more....AND THEN: old friends of them family stopped by for a "gosti" or "having guests over". one thing led to another, food, wine and the infamous macedonian rakia was drunk by all, the cd's came out and the DANCING began. i really can't say for how long we danced that night but the dancing seemed to continue in that small room in that tiny cottage in the mountains WAY into the wee, small hours of the morning. we danced to macedonian music, serbian music, american (country) music (theirs, not mine). we danced the oro, the train, the electric slide, some african dance moves and everything else we could use to just express this inner joy. truly, i have never witnessed an event such as this. literally, a tiny living room in the mountains of macedonia shaking to the beat, everyone sweating from moving around at a phenomenal rate in such close proximity. but not once did i ever see a frown. everyone was so happy...but i guess the thing that really blows my mind is that there was no inhibition from either sex. none whatsoever. and it's not because they had drank some rakia. no, my family needed the outlet of physical expression. that's what made them bust out lauging, smile incessantly, cheer, remember when they were younger, and think of how lucky they were at that very moment.

i suppose it always comes back to my comparing the people of macedonia to americans. we may have insanely difficult times ahead. but do we stop to celebrate on an ordinary saturday night? do men ever spontaneously bust out dancing? i have of course been watching the celebrations for Barack Obama's victory...and yes, it is amazing. but i truly believe that no matter who is president that we should celebrate the ordinary days. celebrate and dance like no one is watching. dance because it expresses everything that is within us. dance because we are incredibly fortunate. dance, because in every corner of the globe we are linked not only by dance but by the emotions we can feel: elation, empathy for others, sadness, joy, loss, alone, contentment.if there's one thing i am learning it's that there are more things to unite us than divide us. so i think i'll dance like no one is watching.

Macedonian dogs: citizens or neglected pets? I would have to say a bit of both. Because on either end you see dogs in people’s yards but they NEVER go in the house. Yet there they are, the family dog…constantly vigilant in keeping pedestrians away from their property. I mean, these dogs are fierce about their job. They will bark you all the way down the street and JUST when you think you they forgot about you because you’re out of sight and really…what does it matter anymore. They start up again to warn their friend: "someone’s acomin! She’s on her way. Be ready!" Trust me, this girl that we see munching her apple everyday on her way to school, yeah, she’s trouble.

And then there’s the other dog. The dog with no master. The dog who answers to no one. The dog who crosses the street with just as much authority, if not more, than the stupid Americans who never know when to cross the street (oh yeah, cause ps, there are very few traffic laws or signs here: every man, bike, moped, tractor, car and bus for himself). These dogs, the rag tag secondary citizens have there hangouts, their turf, what have you. They nap in the street, take drinks in the fountains, eat under the tables of the cafes, and walk on the sidewalk with everyone else. Sure, they rarely bathe, and are kicked aside by their human brethren. But, think about it, they’re livin the dream: they answer to no one but themselves. I’ve never seen dogs walk with such purpose…or sometimes a lack of purpose. Always in America dogs were following or being followed by humans. Always to business. “let’s go for a walk!” “let’s take the dog!” “can you dog sit for me?”NOT these dogs. The ones in the yards. Oh they stay out there in the dead of winter. They are hardcore and they know it. And the ones livin the good life. They get by. Homeless, though they are…they get by.

I know I spent this entire blog talking about dogs…and most people who know me know that I am a cat person. But man! These dogs….i just had to speak out on they’re behalf. They are the unsung citizenry of Macedonia!

I have many, many more pictures but i thought i'd pick the most radiant to open for this blog. apparently i can't just upload all these massive files onto my web gallery. apparently computers here don't like big pictures. so i'll go home tonight and resize them all. but for now, let us feast our eyes upon the valley view i had from my hotel room in kumanhovo. you can just see the monty python cartoon of god's hand parting the skies to cast his utter brilliance upon the dusty valleys of kumanhovo. so there's that. also, spent the weekend at my family's country home where we mainly sat around and ate and drank and looked at the mountains. again, more "resized" pictures to come on my web gallery. it was impossible to imagine a time more relaxation, and yet, the definition of this weekend was RELAX. i ended up napping a lot. just when i thought i finally broke that horrible habit that americans look down on i arrive in a country where it is accepted and encouraged. i also sampled some rakia with our neighbors who loved to drink and dance, a fine combination if there ever was one. the more i observe the macedonian people the more striking the difference is: men love to sing (not so much an american manly thing), men love to dance (definitely not the culturally popular thing to do in america), music is so integrated into their culture that because the tv is on all the time (even on our weekend in the country) my family will burst out singing together to a commercial or to a song someone's singing on Serbian idol. in essence, very little fear of judgement, unlike americans. now, i'm sure i just haven't found the activity that men or women fear doing. but i'm on the lookout. something new always around the corner. stay tuned for my next blog: the dogs of macedonia: citizens at large. also, i will eventually upload pictures onto my web gallery.

some say that as we grow up we become different people at different ages. but i don't believe this. i believe we remain the same throughout. passing from all these years from one room to another. but always in the same house. if we unlock the rooms of the far past we can look in see ourselves becoming you and me.

that quote, from peter pan, spoken in the sage tones of Lynn Fontane has always stayed with me wherever i go, especially in negotino. and at first glance i can see how people can completely throw it away. "i'm not the same person i was 15 years ago!" and that's true. you probably weren't. HOWEVER, i believe, and this becomes more true every day for me, that at the core we remain the same. i may have grown and i may have stopped being ocd, but when i get down to it. i am definitely approaching my fears and my desires and new experiences in the exact same way as when i stepped into Mrs. Heaton's kindergarten classroom. i have to go to a meeting so i'll cut it short. but, suffice it to say. i am back to square one. i am a child once more....in too mnay ways to detail and i'm LOVIN IT! pass the fingerpaint please. i really want to get messy.

so...i had a system. since i couldn't access the internet from my homestay house i was going to take my time at writing my blogs at home, save them on my usb, then copy and paste them onto my blog in an internet cafe so i wouldn't be rushed or concerned about how it was turning out. this was the plan. this plan has failed...for now. i will get smarter. i will find another way. mark my words folks. if this experience has taught me anything it is to be prepared for anything. you never know where you will get placed, who you will meet, how you will react to certain cheeses, or what you will be offered to drink. it's all part of the experience. so now, i will just say, since it really smells in here and i want to go enjoy the sunshine and fresh air of negotino (wine country town extraordinaire), i am lovely, i am happy, i am slightly stressed and i am ready for a nap. everything is entirely different. this is all vague and specifically non-specific because all the specific stuff is in that fantastic blog waiting to be unleashed on my usb stick. wait, it will be worth it. wait with breath that is bated.

at this point it would be impossible to explain all the emotions that have coincided with all the numerous events and activities i have participated in over the last week. i think the internet cafe that i typing in doesn't stay open that late. what i can say is that every single person i have met associated with the peace corps in philly and kumanovo is truly amazing. these people are true blue. dude, the janitor spoke today! i'm not even sure i'll even see her again and she spoke and was cool. the level of commitment these people have is incredible. and as for the things i've been up to: been to vienna airport (smoky and crowded), been to Alexander the great airport in skopje (small and surrounded by hills that remind me of northern californi), seen traditional macedonian folk dances perfomed with a band where there was a man who looked like he was playing a bagpipe that was a sheep, played uno till the wee hours of the morning singing the jungle book and the lion king at the top of my lungs ( sound a little familiar to the geneseo crowd?) and so much more! i'm so exhausted but have never been happier to be so. tomorrow i'm meeting the american ambassador to macedonia and the mayor of kumanovo, which is the city outside of the capital in which much of the tension between macedonians and albanians started and is still very present. and while i love kumanovo for exchanging my money and feeding me good food and having loofa vines (where the sponges from bath and body works come from) it's a LITTLE, and by a little i mean a LOT, too smoky for my lungs. but, if that's the ONLY bad thing i can truly not appreciate in this world that is now my home i guess i'll suck it up and be a big girl.

did i mention i try coffee every day?

NOW THAT, is a big step!

it would be almost impossible for me to explain everything that happened over the orientation weekend in philly. i can tell you that on the car ride there all i wanted to do was squeeze my mom's hand and regress by playing mad libs. and i got there and i went into the bathroom and found myself staring in the mirror breathing so heavily i didn't even recognize myself. i looked in the mirror and thought: who is this person? why are you so scared? there's nothing, nothing to fear. i have been in new situations before and made many friends.

so. i came back out fo the bathroom and got the best advice from my dad: just throw yourself into everything and you can't lose.

and so...i ended being the first volunteer to volunteer to for to help out. i was the "photographer" of the MAK 13 class. and it only got better. by the end of the weekend i was narrating a skit i had written a group of friends that my orientation director said was the most fun skit she had seen in a long time. she called me a "shining star". sure it was a lot of information, rules, and guidelines. but it's an incredible group of people who are so incredibly smart, talented, competent and fun i've had an amazing time. it can only get better.

i am so blessed. i thank god every day i am this lucky to be traveling with such loving, supportive people who share my love for doing something incredible to change the world.

pictures soon to come i promise!

packing; tedious

packing; mind numb

packing; 50 lbs per bag

the dark night;awesomely brilliant

the dark night; heath

the dark night; "do you know how i got these scaaarsss?"

packing; shoot me! still not 50 lbs

packing; gouging of eyes

packing; "out vile jelly!" (name that shakespeare play and you win all the marbles!)

eating; feelings

eating; chimichangas

eating; too much food

crying; heaving

crying; ringing

crying; shaking

crying; red eyes

bed...hopefully; sweet repose

yeah, i wish i was talking about my body. sadly, there is a new weight issue in my life. well, today and last night are really the only other times i've ever had to worry about the weight of my suitcases. one of them (the black one) is 46 pounds and honestly could use a little fattening up and the other one (the red one) is 66 pounds. now, i don't want to label the red one "fat" but i think it really should admit to itself that it has a weight issue. Unfortunately it's me that has to help it shed the few pounds that it needs to be accepted by American Airlines...I mean, society. i let it sit in front of the mirror for a while to really assess it's situation see if it couldn't pull itself together. some might say that wasn't "constructive". in fact, some might say that forcing my overweigh red wheely to stare at it's fat ass in the mirror all night is destructive. well...all i have to say to that is: SUCK IT UP! do me a favor and lose the weight, fatty!

that being said, everything else is going great.

yeah, i just started talking about my suitcase like it was an obese child. i am not a well person.

be careful what you wish for. i got the sleep that i needed, thank god. but now, all i want to do is nap. i could take a nap right now. and i just got up an hour ago. it's amazing how much greener the grass always looks...on the other side. you know, it's like if i was in my front yard looking over into my neighbor's yard and i said either to myself or outloud: man, their lawn sure does look pretty green, way greener than mine. i wish i could get my lawn that green. i bet they use some kind of toxic chemical substance to make that green glow radiate out of those blades. they think they're sooooo special with their beautiful lawn that looks like an oriental rug...that is tufty and green.

just an example of "the grass is always greener." too much?

anyway, who would ever have guessed that i would spend my long days curled up under the covers. yes, i run the occasional errand and say goodbye to folks. but on the whole, this whole not having a job and not having too many things to do thing (other than pack of course) is potentially dangerous. the only way i stay partially active is by making lists and repeating the thought in my brain: next week you will be living in a foreign country.

but that frightening thought only pushes me further underneath the covers in my fleece pajamas. nothing more terrifying than leaving this niche i have lived in for over two decades, where everyone knows my name. and i should really watch more cheers to see what that's like for other people.

the lesson for the week is: never have nothing to do and have the world's best collection of dvd's. it is a toxic combination and i will waste my life in that situation unless dragged out of doors in my snowflake fleece pajamas.

this is going to be the last time i see you!

i'm not dying. really. i mean, sometimes it feels like i may be with comments like that. but to be honest, i feel like i need to put the whole peace corps thing in perspective for people. i will on the other side of the world yes. but that doesn't mean i'll be out of touch.

example, my dearest friend ally called me yesterday from hong kong on my cell phone while i was buying groceries. and we chatted in the frozen foods aisle...she was in HONG KONG! so...in the grand scheme of things not so far away.

but what i will say is that all these times that i'm going to see people for the last time is really sad. no matter how much i stay in touch with people it's still hard to let the people in my life go. to give the last hug i'll give for a while. to share the last life i'll share with them...for a while. to share a meal for the last time IN A WHILE. it's hard. for them. and for me. it's a rough transition and while i feel more and more excited thinking about how different my life will be next week. i know in some ways my heart will be with the people who got me there in the first place.

they got me there. and by there i mean, where i'm going. the people who are now saying, " don't go. stay. i'll miss you too much. why don't you just stay." those are the people who i can't help but want to stay for, because semi-ironically they gave me the courage to do something this scary and this cool and step outside the box and leave my comfort zone. they are the people who shape me and make me a better person. all i have to do now is actually act on all the wisdom they have imparted and make use of it in a nation half way across the world...shouldn't be too hard.

lake perspa, macedonia. just cause i like pictures. they prettify my blog:

so, i didn't do a post yesterday because i went apple picking. apple picking is my favorite part of fall in ny. The bright reds, and greens against a clear blue sky. and the cider donuts...did i mention the cider donuts. apple pickig is not apple picking without the cider donuts. hands down, they really make the experience with their warm, sugary, fatty goodness.

Now, you may ask why i chose to spend my last saturday in new york to do lots of non-peace corps related stuff. or maybe you're way smarter than the people who asked that question and knew that i needed to something that made me forget about the peace corps for just a few hours. do something that has made me happy for years every fall. sure, the apples were TART. but it was still breathtaking just reaching with the pole to get the reddest apple just out of reach.

and to me, pies could not be more a part of who i am. seriously, i a pie freak. always have been. pie is to my happiness what spinach is to popeye's strength...or something like that. pie. there's the answer.

who knew that macintosh apples would help me sleep? everyone recommended tylenol pm, nyquil and vicadin. NO! the answer is always, as toucan sam would say, "Just follow your nose!"

i would like to preface this post by saying that i have never in ALL MY LIFE (there, you know it's a big deal because i used capital letters) had trouble sleeping. ever. never ever. maybe when i was 9 and i wanted to stay later to feel special. but, in general, sleeping has been a sport for me. i am a professional napper.

now, that being said. why can't i sleep anymore?!!!! i would like to think it's because my body and brain are too excited to allow my body to rest. but the other side of the argument is that when i am awake, which is a lot of the time now, i do nothing productive. yes, i shop for long underwear and rechargeable batteries for the trip. but when i get home i don't start packing or making new lists. i go straight to my bed and lay there praying for sleep to come. i have never been so enticed by those sleep aid commercials. i used to think those pills were for whimps: "count sheep ya freak!" oh, how the tables have been turned. the sheep that dance the tarantella in my head are cruel mistresses indeed.

this post had almost no purpose except to say that i now understand what it's like to be in a crunch time situation and not be able to focus/function/participate in the actions that need addressing in preparation for the future (in my case, a two year journey of service half way across the world).

so, as i was driving all over croton this morning opening up umami and buying sardines and checking in on nonnie, i couldn't help but think about what i was going to post next on my blog. what does the world wide web want to know?! then i realized the "eyes back to me" maggie was coming out, and she is such an egocentric woman. how could i possibly invite her to my blog. no. i think it's just exciting because i know some people might read what i write. and i would say that's novel for me. last time i shared my writing with someone was when i had to in middle school for peer evaluation or some silliness of the sort.

but it strikes me that a lot of my favorite literature is based on a strong narrative, which is what a blog is, in it's essence. now, please don't misunderstand, i'm not saying virginia woolf should have had a blog dispensing makeup tips. i'm just saying it's an attractive reading style. and i think it's one that is easily overlooked.

but...eyes back to me. that's better. i'll have to come up with something interesting to talk about before i actually get there. think, think, think.

this could all be one big mistake. i never fancied myself a blogger. nor did i ever dream i'd be blogging to update my friends and family on my life in a country like ... macedonia. that's it up there by the way. in case perhaps you thought i just liked pictures of churches.

i certainly would never have guessed that life would take me there. yes, there. i'm not there yet. 9 days and counting. should be one heck of a journey.

a lot of people ask me if i'm excited about my "new adventure". sure. yes. what does that even mean though? sure i'm excited. HOWEVER, i would like to include among "excited" the feelings: nauseous, perplexed, scared, unworthy, ill-prepared, sad, and exhilarated (just to name a few).

this blog is supposed to keep those reading updated on the fantastically cool things i'm seeing and learning about while traveling abroad. and who knows, maybe i'll end up living in a macedonian castle teaching little children how to do a time step. who knows? not me