Fresh Meat/Mish i fresket

This past Wednesday marked a special day for Peace Corps Albania - the arrival of the next group of volunteers - Group 16, Fresh Meat!   Our Training Manager asked me to come greet them and go over some basics of our cell phones.  Sounds silly, right?  Teaching 35 tech-savvy Americans about cell phones?  Well, consider this - Peace Corps cell phones carry an element of time travel…about 15 years into the past.  In a smartphone/iPhone dominated society, these relics do require a refresher course.

Wednesday marked a special day/dite te vecante for me as well.  Standing in front of the new group, naturally, I was reminded of my arrival day.  Of sitting in that same hotel dining room, curious and for the most part, clueless.  There they sat, quietly and patiently, but I could feel their intensity.  The excitement of starting this journey, the uncertainty of what’s to come and how they will manage to work through it, the jet-lag making everything just a little hazy.

It’s been two years since I was in their shoes/kepuce.  At the time, I coined the phrase appre-citement:  a hybrid of apprehension and excitement, which was exactly what I was feeling.  Standing there now, I can’t believe how quickly time has passed, how much I have learned, how many new friendships I’ve made and how I’ve grown.   

Albania started as a mystery and became a home.  I’m part of a community. In some places, I’m even a “regular.” For example/per shembull, When I walk into the butcher’s shop, before I even get to the counter they ask, “chicken breasts? How many?/fileto pule? Sa?”  I’ve become predictable/Une kam e bere te parashikueshme.  My life is comfortable and routine, but to be clear, never mundane!  After all, I still screw up the language!  I recently told my boss that I “shaved” it instead of “saved” it.  Well, that was fun.

But now, as I look ahead, here I am again, curious... and for the most part clueless.  My service will end on May 24th.  The uncertainty is back.  When I look through my calendar (which is a paper, by the way) and I turn to June/Qershor… its completely blank.  Crisp, fresh, white paper.   Other than a few birthdays (Dannyboy, Dave and H.Lee) I don’t have anything concrete to fill in.  And so I’ve coined a new word again. Liber-fying: the hybrid of liberating and terrifying.  Liberating because the only obligations I have are to myself.  I can carve my own path. Terrifying because it’s all new.  I’m new.  And I’m not sure how to navigate my way to the future I want. 

Two years ago… I didn’t know how it would work out.  But it did and I am better for it.  In Albania I've learned the expression (that I’ve used here many times) “Avash, avash.”  Which is literally slowly slowly, but boils down to “one step at a time.”  And as liberfied as I feel in this moment, I know it will all work out again.  Just like everything will be amazing for the Mish i fresket - Grupi 16!  And just for fun, here’s a video created by MY group 14…our lessons learned. PC Albania Group 14's Lessons Learned.  Click through, you'll like it! (unless you are a grumpy curmudgeon, then don't bother.)

Peace, Love and the Mystery of June.

A Project is Born/Projekt ka lindur.

Preface.  In the last post I gave a “sort-of” excuse for being missing in blog-tion that I had been busy with work.  So…to be fair, I’ll now spend some time writing about this work!  Elbasan Youth Council (EYC).  Those three words represent, far and away, the most rewarding experience of my Peace Corps service.  All thanks to the 29 brilliant youth participants and my six program colleagues.  The next few posts will be dedicated to this program… “my baby” and the EYC family.

I had been doing some youth development programs with area high schools.  It was fun and important work, but I felt a nagging sense of guilt for being outside the Municipality of Elbasan- my host agency (PC jargon for primary assignment.)  I shared this guilt with my new site-mate, Luis, and whined about (he deserves a medal for tolerating me!) how I wanted to develop a city-based youth program.  Together we hemmed and hawed over multiple ideas.  How can we make this work?  And then, because he is awesome/ai eshte i tmerrshem, Luis nailed it – A Youth Municipal Council.  We pitched the idea to our Mayor, who has a soft spot for youth programming.  In fact, Mr. Qazim Sejdini started HIS career in youth development.  SLAM DUNK!  We were off and running!

Elbasan Youth Council’s program design closely resembles a model of my own experiences with “Tempe Leadership,” a civic initiative that educates future community leaders.  Never re-invent the wheel, when a great model is available.  Cheers/Gezuar to 28 years of the Tempe Leadership tradition... now paving the way for the future of Albania!  A debt of gratitude.            http://tempeleadership.org.  

This BRAND new youth leadership program, publicized to all 14 high schools in the city, brought quite a draw… nearly 100 applicants.  Wow!?  Was it because the Youth are ready to have their voices heard?  Was it because this program provided a chance to further their English skills?  Was it because Albanians LOVE America and two Americans were part of the program?  Was it because Albanian Youth value opportunities for developing their leadership skills?  I think the answer is YES, to all of it!  However, certainly the “America card” is the least important or should be!

From 100 applicants, we had to cut the field to 30.  Yikes/O bo bo!  No one wants to be the “bad guy” who has to turn away hopeful and eager applicants, especially when they are teenagers/adoleshentet! But learning how to deal with disappointment is a leadership lesson in itself.  It had to be done.  So we devised a score card that ranked applications based on the quality and completeness of answers to essay questions.  And also took into consideration reference requirements.  We made every effort to be as fair/i drejte and transparent as possible. 

As you might imagine, in a culture where nepotism is the norm and favors are often paid… this was not easy/kjo nuk ishte e lehte. Soon after the selection announcement, my Albanian counterparts were subject to phone calls from irritated parents asking, “Why wasn’t MY child selected!?” This would be followed by defenses such as “But we’re neighbors!” Or “Our kids go to school together!” Or “Our family supported the Mayor in his last campaign.”  I can only imagine how uncomfortable these calls must have been. 

I was nervous, “Will we have to waver, make exceptions?”  The thought of it made my stomach hurt.   I worried that we were pushing our American standards on a culture that might not be ready for them…and frankly, might not even want them!  Even with months of cultural and community integration, at the end of the day, I’m still and outsider.  I’m not Albanian/Nuk jam shqiptare. 

As it turns out, my worries were unnecessary. (much like my Mom's usually are about my nutrition, skin care routine, online profile, etc. but I digress.) My Albanian counterparts made me proud, as they remained firm time after time. They countered the inquiries by explaining; “We followed an American system for transparent and fair scoring.” They invited parents to review our process.  They invited disappointed applicants to go over their applications to receive tips and advice for strengthening their case next year.  And for the most part, with this explanation, came acceptance from nearly all those who challenged.  I was encouraged by students who pledged to try again next year.   And I was touched by the level of respect shown to American values.  And although America is far from perfect, this is something of which I can be proud!

In the end/Ne fund, we invited 30 young men and women to the First Class of Elbasan Youth Council.  One by one, as the selected Youth arrived for Orientation on an early Saturday morning… smiling, eager, curious and full of hope, I knew we’d done something right!  Very right.  And that was only the beginning/vetem fillimi!

Peace, Love and Doing the Right Thing.

PS:  More to come on EYC including… Youth Priority Issues, Community Projects and Making it Happen!

Why Don't (S)He Write?

O, Sa Turp!/How shameful!  
Sa gjate/How long it has been since I've written in my Albanian Blog. It's been five long months... reminding me of this scene from Dances with Wolves: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7DJaX5N2vo  (only 30 seconds...why not click thru!?)

Fortunately, I did not meet that same fate as that bag-a-bones.  

But that doesn't answer the question, "why don't she write?"  I don't have a good excuse. I could blame it on being busy with projects, busy with my young love, busy traveling.  And sure, I have been, but not too busy to share.  My best reason is writer's block.  I've sat down with some ideas... but the fire wasn't there.  The spark to start.  I was like an empty Zippo lighter/cakmaku i Zippo, waiting for Julie to re-fuel and shine me for packaging.  

I'm disappointed in myself for letting so many moments pass.  But I'm not going to waste any more time.  With only three months left of my PC service...the Blogger in me is back! And better than ever?! (Remains to be seen.)  However, before I return to stories about Albania and life as a Peace Corps Volunteer, let me share why in hell, after 22 years, would I be reminded of a scene from Dances with Wolves/Kercime me Ujq!?

In 1990 when Dances with Wolves hit theaters, my mother had her heart set on seeing the film.  It was about this time of year- her birthday.  And her only wish (read: demand) was that we go to see the movie as a family.  I was in 7th grade and Ryan was in high school. So obviously, being seen with your family (especially when both your parents are teachers!) at Cinema World in WashPa was a fate worse than death.  As any two loving, appreciative children would....we threw an outright fit.  No way.  No How!  My very clever and determined mother suggested a compromise: We could drive 30-minutes north to another town and see the movie at the Galleria. We caved.

Neither Ryan, nor I (nor my dad, for that matter) were remotely interested in seeing this film. It's THREE HOURS LONG and is about pioneers and covered wagons! Bor-ing. Mom didn't even care.  She refused to let us piss on her parade.  Hindsight: the opportunity to see Kevin Costner's bare ass/buthe on the big screen does have quite an appeal. Remember, his ass was 22 years younger at the time!  Collectively, the rest of us knew that a 3-hour sacrifice was preferred to a lifetime of mother's guilt. (a fate we failed to avoid anyway.)  And so we got our popcorn, found our seats and settled in for a long winter's nap.  

Here comes the beautiful irony.  The opening scenes of the movie are pretty gruesome...a Civil War-era make-shift hospital near a Confederate battlefield.    Amputations, blood, bones, innards.  Pretty disgusting stuff, really.  My mom couldn't watch...averted her eyes and winced at the sound effects she was unable to tune out.  Two hours and 48 minutes left to go, she never quite recovered.  

I, on the other hand, was riveted from the opening scenes to the rolling of the credits. To this day, Dances with Wolves remains one of my all time favorite films. The wide open spaces, the commitment to a post, the clash of cultures and the unbreakable bonds of even the most unlikely friendships...it moves me.  And as I type, it hits me:  The American Frontier is to John Dunbar what Peace Corps Albania has been to Me.  Lame?  Probably/Ndoshta.  Accurate? Absolutely/Absolutisht.

Ok, fine... so my Albania doesn't have buffalo or "hostiles."  But my Albania has occasional loneliness. It has curious interlopers who've become dear friends.  It has street dogs who could pass for "Two Socks."  It has love stories, new cuisines and rooted traditions.  It has moments of confusion and sorrow, but also moments of camaraderie and joy. And it has a People who are uncertain, yet hopeful for their future.  People who often look to me for answers that I can't give.  Peace Corps Albania has been my undiscovered frontier.  

So... with this little glimpse into my silly love affair with a mustached Kevin Costner, it should come as no surprise that after lapsing in my blog posts, my first thought was imagining McBride asking Arlene..."Why don't she write?"

And now, with only 3 months left before I will say good-bye to this amazing experience, to the incredible friends I've made... I am reminded of the movie's closing scene: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LR4j8iWu-OI  that always brings me to tears.  I hope before leaving, I find the right words in Shqip to say:  

Do you see that I am your friend?  Can you see that you will always be my friend?  

And just like in the movie...I am quite sure it will always bring me to tears.

Peace, Love and New Frontiers

Lost in Translation 3: Nothin' but Love for Upton Circle.

Other titles considered:   

Lost in Translation 3: Stacked like a shelf

Lost in Translation 3: Pothuajse/Sort of. 

Why SORT OF? Well…this little keqkuptimi/misunderstanding didn’t occur from English to Shqip, but actually English to English.  Making matters worse, this was not just a silly gabim/mistake between two friends speaking privately and oops, Freudian slip!  No….this was via an international Skype conversation with an entire family….the Mingioni clan at their home on Upton Circle.  Picture it:  three generations worth in one room….popping in and out of the screen to give well-wishes and ask curious questions about life in Albania and then I took an utterly inappropriate turn.

For my readers who don’t know the Mingioni’s…a little background:

The Happy Family (pre-Fi)

There’s Gina, my primary connection to this proud Italian-Irish family is the middle child/daughter.  Her sisters may/may not confirm that she’s been known to display typical textbook middle child behaviors.  Gina and I (among a tight-knit crew known as 11 Garner Court and The Guys) became friends during our Freshman Year at Penn State.  And in spite of my sometimes (often) egregious ways, Gina has remained a true and loyal friend who brought me into the fold of her loving family.  Bridget and Katie…the older and younger sisters respectively were part of our Penn State world and thanks to banking conferences in Phoenix, Annual Memorial Day Karaoke Parties and Facebook, I’ve been fortunate to stay connected with them as well.  Bridget brings two adorable munchkins to the party, Jamie and Fi (50% credit to Matt Keeley, who can do a mean Lionel Richie when he’s tickling the ivories).  And of course….there are the two who are responsible for the whole lot, Kathy and Tony.  These two kind souls managed, while raising three, dare I say it, dramatic young women, built a home like none I’ve experienced before or since.   Let me put it this way, in a time when we look around and recognize just how nutty, crazy and damaging families can be… when you see the Mingioni’s you can’t help but think….Wow!  They really know how to do this thing right.  A happy, healthy and loving family is not impossible; they are the proof.  And this love and concerns extends beyond bloodlines.   Any of us lucky enough to be in Gina’s cirlce become part of the Inner Upton Circle. 

Upon hearing of my Albanian destination, my babai plus/bonus dad, Tony promptly called me to discuss the movie Taken and made me promise to be careful.  As I did with my own parents, I gave him the obligatory “Yeeeeees, Daaaaaaad” style response.  And yet, it was sweet to know that he genuinely cares.  Just as he’s been genuinely interested in my experiences while serving as a PCV. 

OK….back to the error of my words….

Gina and I had set a “skype” date to start planning our trip to Greece, a hop, skip and a jump for me, a nine-hour business class flight for her.  (stay tuned to read about that fab little get-a-way that I refer to as the vacation of a lifetime!)  Sundays often bring the Mingioni family all together so I was eager to speak with her then and get a chance to see everyone and wish them well.

It started out great with Gina, Bridget and a curious llil' Jamie who was far more interested in his own image on the screen than talking with some silly lady across the world.  And one-by-one the gang trickled in squeezing their heads in the frame, or Gina would shift her computer to give me the full room panorama and a slight case of vertigo.  It was a barrage of pyetet/questions:

What’s it like there?  "Great, exciting, different everyday."  

Do you love it? "I really do, but there are things I miss things from home."

Are you happy? "Yes, even if some days are frustrating, this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience!"

Tell us about your house? At which point I could give the panorama of my digs.

Is the language difficult? "

What are your co-workers like? "

And so on.  And then what I thought I heard… was Tony enthusiastically requesting,

“Melia, tell me about the b_ _ _ _!”   

(Yes…I’m going to leave you guessing for the fun of it...)

Immediately, I launched into something like this “Whoa! Tony! …you wouldn’t believe them!  I mean the women here are stacked like shelves.  I’ve seen some serious racks on young girls and even up to mid-age women.  I don’t know if its from the water, or if the bras here are just SUPER padded or what, but I mean, DAY-UM!”

If I had any self-awareness, which is debatable, I may have noticed Bridget covering the innocent ears of her son or the warning looks on Gina’s face.  At first confusion peppered with some disgust and then a devilish joy as she realized she’d get to ZING me in 3……2……1……. 

“OH MY GOD, Melia!  He said booze!  Booze, not Boobs! What’s wrong with you!?”

The display on the outside door of a store near my house.
This is only the top row!

And now, if I had any shame (no debate required…I don’t) I would have been mortified.  I got by with some blush-worthy embarrassment.  But this does raise some issues.

First of all….why was it so easy for me to launch into a graphic description of Albanian Female Anatomy with my friend’s Dad!?  Well, some creedence….there are some serious boobs here in Albania.  And on more recent research outings, I’ve discovered they ain’t kidding around with the push-up bras!  Wonderbra….you’ve met your match and its name is the Albanian Street Market Bra.  Secondarily, why would I ever assume so casually that he would even ask me about boobs!?  Clearly I'm a sick individual.  (Note to self: resume counseling upon return to the US.)  This must be the fruedianEST slip of my lifetime, thus far.  Oh…there’s still time.

To his credit, Tony laughed whole-heartedly… the only way he knows how, getting a kick out of my gross misunderstanding.  And while he and Kathy may have been thinking it, they never made me feel like the total donkey’s ass that I am.  I attempted a recovery, giving a quick explaination of raki…the actual “booze” traditional of Albania.  But for the most part….the conversation after that was nothing but giggles and snickers from Gina, Bridge and Katie. 

Since then, I’ve learned that perhaps Skype is best only one-on-one.  But after an experience like that, how can I have anything but LOVE for Upton Circle? 

Peace, Love, Shamelessness and MCRO   

PS: A little shout-out to Justin...an extended member of the family via Katie.  Shume urime per Ju!  Congratulations to you two!

Accidental Bikram

Arriving in Albania, I was coming off a good run of yogi commitment by attending a weekly class offered after work, as well as, regular classes at my gym.  For clarity, there is a significant difference between “gym” yoga and private studio yoga and I prefer the latter.  Gym/Palester yoga tends to be less personal, less forgiving and less effective in the whole mind-body-soul experience thing.  But when I’m already paying for a gym membership… frugality trumps preferences.  And doing something is far better than doing nothing.

What a convenient segway… recently, I’ve been more in the doing nothing category when it comes to my fitness.  And well, no big surprise here… there are effects of my lethargic ways.  General soreness, tight muscles, lack of flexibility and the fact that my abs are looking less and less like a Victoria’s Secret model.  (If you are asking….Did they EVER?  Just trust me, OK!? Everyone’s a damn skeptic…) Not to mention the mental malaise that accompanies inactivity.  So, I was due, or even overdue, to get back into a healthy routine.

This past weekend/fundjavë e kaluar (when I finally pried the crochet needle out of my hand) I dusted off and rolled out Old Faithful, my yoga mat.  It was during the summertime pushim (think of the Spanish siesta…2-4pm when its too hot to do anything so life shuts down for a mid-day snooze!) and my neighborhood was peacefully quiet.  Since I’m between major project work, no pressure of deadlines.  Conditions were perfect…. and so I got started.

It felt great to stretch again, twisting to align my spine, opening up my shoulders, and just getting moving again.  I was connected to myself and feeling centered (yes… I believe in that spiritual kind of talk, if you don’t…  go ahead and roll your eyes.  But beware, Kharma’s a bitch!).  I was in a zone, flowing through poses, using my oooo-gjah-eee ocean-sounding breathe and then something changed.  I could feel a bead of sweat/djersë rolling down my spine… a few moments later, another and then another. It’s quite distracting when you realize it’s so f@#*ing hot that sweat is not only being released from your pores, but in such a magnitude that it pools and then rolls off the body.  Wouldn’t you know….I’ve just created my own accidental *Bikram Yoga experience!

Temps in my “hometown” Elbasan have been hovering between 37-39° Celcius/98-100° Farenheit for the past few weeks with no end in sight.  And it’s STICKY too.  And just like winters….my apartment in the summertime is just about the same temperature INSIDE/brenda as it is outside/jashtë.  Which means, I’m also now becoming practiced in the art of Bikram Dish-washing, Bikram Typing, Bikram Web-browsing and my personal favorite, Bikram Napping.   Who knew the franchise could have such a broad range! 

So the way I see it…. if I keep up a moderate yoga practice and if I continue to sweat like a whore in church simply in stillness….then those abs I mentioned are gonna be back in Gisele Bündchen fightin’ condition real quick!  (You’re welcome, Jason.)

Peace, Love and Mercury Rising

PS…  While the included photos may not adequately represent the amount of sweat produced, it does represent some other interesting routines:

  

Cupboard doors left open - That’s my dish drying-rack.  I leave it open to help prevent mold. 

Multiple water bottles - Well, duh, Mama gotsta keep hydrated, what what!?

Tomato on top of the frying pan - Not really a routine at all… just that’s where I put it, but it seems embarrassing now that its captured on digital, so I felt like I had to acknowledge it. 

*Bikram Yoga, named for founder Bikram Choudhury, is ideally practiced in a room heated to 105°F (≈ 40C) with a humidity of 40% and is the most popular form of hot yoga. 

Good Intentions Back-firing

Historical perspective:  About a year before leaving for Peace Corps service…. I learned how to knit.  I was intrigued by the productions (hats, scarves, even scrubbies) of my co-workers (artistic types at Childsplay, of course) and wanted to learn the craft.  So thanks to their patience… I got started on scarves.  And I was hooked! For my friends and family, it was like being on Oprah….You get a scarf and YOU get a scarf…. AND YOU GET A SCARF!   (still need to diversify my skill sets to hats, etc.) Not knowing what to expect from Albania… and thinking a low-tech hobby would be wise, I purchased all kinds of knitting needles and crochet hooks, how-to books…..you know, The Works.  Dammit if I wasn’t gonna make some masterpieces during my time aboard!  Upon arrival in Albania and with nearly instant access to the internet and other technology… my crafting time fell to the wayside. 

Environmental perspective: Although MUCH of Europe (Take note USA!)  has banned the use of plastic bags for grocery or other shopping…. Albania has not yet embraced this concept.  Plastic is King.  Often times, produce vendors/shitësit perime want to put your tomatoes in one bag, plums in another and carrots in another!  One visit to a store could mean 5 bags/qese  for just little ole me!  (I’ll refrain from the environmental impact soapbox here….but you all know just how BAD this is!  And if not….just google “impact of plastic bags on the earth” and prepare to be horrified. )  Anyway….its a problem here for sure.  And while the re-usable canvas bag concept is being introduced here….its slow in coming.

Personal perspective:   I’ve been lazy about carrying my canvas bag for shopping.  Or sometimes I stop at the store on a whim un-prepared and therefore have amassed a fair collection of plastic bags.  Recycling is rare, so that’s not an option and I just can’t bring myself to throwing them away….too toxic, too damaging/ shumë toksik, shumë të dëmshme.  (Yes, that last word has 4 consecutive consantants…that’s nothing, the word for "future" has six!)  So, I store them in a kitchen cupboard with good intentions to do SOMETHING… SOMEDAY.  But recently, I reached the breaking point.  Each time I’d open that cupboard, they’d billow out onto the floor and I’d have a WWF style fight on my hands to keep them contained inside.   Imagine smashing them to the back and trying to slam the cupboard door closed before they expand out again.  Repeat multiple times before success.  Half-hearted success as there was always some baggie remnant hanging out.  Close enough!  Anyway….it was bad, and my boyfriend started making threats….   

Pending Break-up + Internet + Crafts + Trash >>> Creative Innovation!

Well…not exactly my OWN innovation, but innovation I can be part of none the less.  I found some websites about re-purposing plastic bags and found a great pattern for crocheting with Plarn, “yarn” made from cutting and tying together strips of plastic bags.  I certainly had the products and the tools/produktet dhe veglat.  Now… I needed the “know-how”…  Faleminderit Youtube! 

And within just a few days I transformed those plastic bags into…. well…err...  another plastic bag.  Hrumphf.  Ah hell, at least it’s a cute one!!! 

 But the good deed back-fires.  Just like I took to knitting and made a trillion scarves, now  I want to make more bags and give them to everyone I know!  So I need to make more plarn.  Which means I need more baggies!  The exact product I was trying to avoid has now become my most urgent need!  (Dramatic, much?  Just wait.)  How, painful....the burden of artistry!  Oh the cruel, cruel irony/Ironia shume e mizor! 

Well, here is my plan:  I’ll start using my new, stylish and eco-friendly bag in moderation while I collect some more baggies.  And I’ll ask my co-workers, neighbors and friends to save their bags for me.  I’ll And then… I’ll make bags for them and help them to develop good re-useable bag habits and THAT’s how I’ll do my part to put a dent in the Albanian plastic epidemic.  Just give me a little more time….and a few more baggies!

Peace, Love and Trash intoTreasure

PS…I’ve definitely become a crochet monster...granny squares and hexagon flowers galore!!  Maja, Katie McF., Yolanda, thanks for being my inspiration.  Now…I just need to run to the yarn store and get me some more supplies!  Ooo!  I bet the lady there will put my yarn in plastic baggies!  Win-Win!

Frustration Stinks. Do Something.

My dear Albanian neighbors and friends (near and far),

Allow me to express my great respect and appreciation for your kindness, generosity and hospitality.  Let me to say “Thank You” for helping me to integrate into your community, work among you and to encourage your youth to become confident and skilled leaders of the future.  And let me share in your frustration with the country’s challenges as you continue your development as a democratic nation.  I understand that programs and systems are not yet adequate to serve all your needs.   I understand why some days it feels like nothing will ever change.   But today, I have living proof that CHANGE IS POSSIBLE

. 

A story:

A young woman stepped out of her apartment for a morning walk.  Immediately, the pungent odor of dog poop hit her in the face and seconds later, she discovered the source… a nasty mound, sitting on the stairway landing.  “Gross!” she thought as she passed, holding her breath and swatting away the flies that were buzzing around.  “The owner of that dog should clean that up!”

Some time later, returning from her walk, and having stopped at a market, the young woman climbed her stairs and was met again by the increasingly foul stench from the doggie pile-o-poo.  As she passed, she leaned away from the smell, but there was no escaping it and she had to stifle her gag reflex.  Not wanting the stink to infiltrate her groceries, the girl quickly entered her apartment, again thinking, “That is just disgusting!”  And she started to wonder…  Who’s dog was to blame for this offense?  Did any of her neighbors even own a dog?  Perhaps this was the mark of a street dog?  Regardless, she was steadfast, “Someone really needs to clean that up!”

Later that day, the young woman stepped out from her apartment again… it was still there, and potent as ever and she was frustrated.  How long would she have to wait for someone to clean up?  Until the evening?  Tomorrow?  Until it had become petrified shit?  She was so frustrated that she made a decision.  “I’m not willing to wait any longer.”  She walked back inside, grabbed 3 plastic bags (tripling up for safety and the sheer ick-factor), and then literally took the matter into her own hands. 

Even though it was gross…  even though it wasn’t her dog or her mess… Even though others could have done the same thing… SHE DID IT!  She took that steaming sack of wretched animal feces and delivered it straight to the dumpster.  When she came back, the smell was nearly gone.  And she felt good.  Because she didn’t have to deal with it any longer.  And the young woman felt good because she knew she’d relieved her neighbors of the same unpleasant experience.  And she felt good because… SHE HAD NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE.

So as you can see… change can and does HAPPEN.  That young woman (notice how I keep using the adjective!) was ME.  And the story is true.  (You can even ask my mom!)  Never before in my life, have I ever WILLINGLY picked up dog crap!  But today, it was necessary and important... and so I did.  

And if I can change, and do just one little thing for my neighbors… think of the magnitude of change that will come when each Albanian does SOMETHING within their power to do something for their neighbors, their city, their country?  And not because its easy or popular… Or not because it’s their  job…   Or not because they’ll get public recognition… Just because they are not willing to wait any longer for something to change!   That day is coming and I just can’t wait!  (which is exactly the reason why I am here.)

So there you have it… the proof that change is possible.  It is within each of you.  Do something, anything. Don't wait, start today.  There will always be challenges and frustrations.  There will always be greater need than we can accommodate.  There will always be injustice.  But we must never stop ourselves from doing THOSE things that ARE within our power to bring change. 

Peace, Love and Extra Plastic Baggies