Surviving Syd

My mom and I have an amazing relationship and every single day, I know just how blessed I am to be her daughter. That being said….she (Syd) and I also have what I’ve come to call… our “togetherness shelf life.” As I came into my adulthood, we found that spending more than 5-7 days together could bring about such negative side effects as headaches, irritability, thoughts of suicide and most significant, the need to emphasize that I am perfectly capable of deciding if I need to take a jacket or not!

And yet, I was a little sad when I realized my mom’s September visit to Albania would be only for 1 week. Surely it would go by too quickly! How would we see everything, meet everyone in just one week?

During her visit, I had the opportunity to play tour guide and translator. Hey, after 6 months, I can actually speak this Shqip! Frankly, my ego may be over-inflated since compared to Syd I’m damn near fluent! (In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king!) And I was also able to introduce her to many of the people who’ve become fixtures in my Albanian life… and fixtures in my heart. And just as you might imagine, they were as wonderful and welcoming to her, as they’ve been to me.

Zyri, my landlady, was amazing, taking my mom and I for a day trip around Lake Ohrid. We stopped for a coffee in Tushemisht, a small village on the border of Macedonia that was the
former communist dictator’s private lands. It was breath-taking but just another example of a needle-in-a-haystack destination that tells a great story. If only more tourists were lured here! Three women on a road trip, you can imagine the conversations… travel, food, men we love and men who make us crazy! What a hoot! Following our day together, Zyri and her Mama Lumi also hosted us to a traditional Elbasan breakfast with bugace (fried bread stuffed inside a roll of bread) petulla (think doughnuts or Indian fry bread) and home-made djath and mjalt (cheese and honey). Tasty, but it sure wasn’t part of the Atkins diet!

Visiting my host family was the chance for my two Moms to meet and to have an atypical tourist experience. It is in the villages where tradition runs deep. We were welcomed with hugs, kisses and more hugs and had the chance to tour the fields of the farm. The grape vines, the 4 o’clocks, the chickens, the freshness of products –so much of my host family’s life reminded Syd of her childhood… her mom and grandmother. Our Slovenian heritage seems to resonate here. And although we see the similarities…don’t dare suggest that the Balkan countries are the same! What we see as subtle differences are huge points of pride and identity for the Albanian people.

Diamanta and Mayor Sejdini, My “bosses” at the bashkia. The Mayor invited Diamanta, Syd and me to have coffee….in his office! This was quite a treat for us. But as Diamanta helped with translations, he confessed that Syd was volunteer Mom he’d ever met. He was so touched that she chose to visit Elbasan. Like others before, they showered my mom with gifts traditional of Elbasan and Albania. She was going to need another suitcase!

And finally…Vjollca, my language instructor and friend! We met… of course over coffee and talked about life in America and Albania. My mom was instantly connected to Vjollca, they bonded over “The Prophet” and other great books. My mom is making up a spare bedroom just in case V ever gets a visa to the States! Plus, Vjollca took us for my first Albanian haircut….success! Oh and of course Syd met the other PCV’s here…but we’re Americans, how boring. ;)

So in just one week…we accomplished a lot. But there’s still much I wish I could have shared with Syd. The week did go by too quickly, but all things considered, the timing was just right. I was reaching my limit on the “are you sure?’s” and the “wouldn’t it be better if’s.” Syd just can’t help herself. Of course, it was still a teary good-bye for me. Our togetherness shelf-life only approached its expiration date. Syd left me wishing we had just one more day….rather than wishing I could find a rope to strangle her. Serenity Now. (That one’s for you, Ry!)

Peace, Love and “Mom… Alright! I Got iI!”

A doni ju te pi kafe?

“Do you want to drink a coffee?”

Seems harmless enough, right? Well... not for me! While some girls can’t hold their booze, I can’t hold my caffeine. It’s embarrassing really. Within an hour or so… those around me are subject to rapid-fire questioning: Whatareyoudoing? Wannadosomething? Letsdosomething. Whatshouldwedo? Whereshouldwego? Letsdosomethingfun. Whatdoyouthinkwecoulddothatisfun? Whatareyouthinking? Some of you out there have been subjected to this, for which I apologize. But in Albania…coffee SIMPLY IS culture. And finding decaf is “needle in a haystack” difficult… Shume e veshtire!

I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker. I figured if I was going to start it would have been in college – late nights finishing a presentation or cramming for a final. My first attempt was a convenience store-machine Vanilla cappuccino from RJ Profits (Shout out to Pollack Halls at Penn State) when I was writing a history paper due the following day. It was 9pm. The caffeine took hold around 10:30 and with it came boundless inspiration. I knocked out the paper by 1am feeling pretty proud. This coffee thing might have some merit! However… at 5am, as I lied awake, toes wiggling, staring at the ceiling from my loft bed (Shout out Sara McFadden) I started to have 2nd thoughts about this magical drink.

But I’m convinced, if you took coffee away from Albania… life would stop. Similar to most Americans, Albanians are like zombie’s before their morning coffee. Mid-morning coffee breaks boost employee morale (although not necessarily productivity,) encourage business negotiations and help to seal deals. In the afternoon, friends meet for coffee to gossip/vent/bej llaka llaka about their days. Want to watch the big soccer match/ndeshje e futboll? Meet me at the café! And if you’ve got your eye on a young lady prospect…inviting her to coffee shows you are ready for a serious commitment. (if that’s not a reason to be wary of coffee, I don’t know WHAT is!) Once engaged, a young woman is often scrutinized in her attention to detail during “coffee service” with her soon-to-be In-Laws. Again, coffee IS culture.

The mode of choice: kafe turk apo kafe espres. Turkish or Espresso. Sometimes with a little steamed milk, most always with sugar! And they may be tiny in stature, they make up for it in punch! Average costs range from 50-80 cents in US dollars. It might sound like a bargain, but drink 5 in one day and you’re creeping on Starbucks-level investments. “To-go: is extremely rare – no grabbing a cuppa Joe on your way into work. And to the disappointment of many volunteers… no Dunkin Donut franchises are in the works YET!

My Albanian friends, who’ve now seen some of coffee’s effects on me (speed talking above and beyond my natural gift for gab, dancing around the office conference table, etc) have started to let me off the hook. Now, its becoming acceptable to order an uje me gas/sparkling water while they sip macchiatos. From time to time…I dabble. And every time… the result is the same. Today, I met a friend for coffee at 1:30pm. It’s now 2:00am and I credit the caffeine, still coursing through my veins, for inspiring this post. But when I crash, rendered useless for much of tomorrow…will it have been worth it? Well… I had a great time with a new friend, so Yes, absolutely!/Po, sigurisht! Thank you, Elda… see you again soon!

Peace, Love and Decaf

PS: Dear Chai Tea lattes, Don’t worry, you are and will always be my favorite drug-of-choice. I miss you and eagerly await our 2013 reunion.

PPS: Oh, and some of the men, in the evenings will drink kafe me bisht/coffee with "a tail" meaning raki. Think of it like a coffee with a moonshine chaser. That'll put hair on your chest!

Yoga, Gender and Balance. Where my Boys at?

Gender Development and Equality is a main focus in many Peace Corps countries and Albania is no different. Although technology and cyber infrastructure have brought Albania into the modern world, strict gender roles still exist...think pre-women's lib style stuff. I can get into this more in a another post. However, our GAD (Gender and Development) Committee asked me to write an article for their September newsletter.... Yoga and Gender? Hey guys...when is the last time you struck a downward dog pose? Here in... please enjoy the newfound benefits Yoga brings to life in Albania!


September is National Yoga Awareness Month! (D’oh! If you were as unaware as I was…mark your 2012 Calendar now!) For the newbies: Yoga is a physical, mental, and spiritual discipline, originating in ancient India, whose goal is the attainment of a state of perfect spiritual insight and tranquility. (Thank you Wikipedia!)

Historically, yoga was developed by and for male bodies, and often draws on the language of male experience. Think WARRIOR poses. And yet you’ll typically find that less than 20% of participants in the U.S. are men. So as we work on developing gender equality here in Albania, let us not forget that our own gender balance is often as shaky as a first-timer attempting Tree Pose. (what’s that I hear? Crickets? Well…my attempt at a yogi joke. Whatever.)

So….I could drone on and on about yoga’s benefits – flexibility, balance, strength – and how they are not uniquely masculine or feminine, but rather human. About how poses and meditation bring a clarity of mind and spirit that cultivates an empowered self, yatta yatta.
But, I doubt this same tired message will do much to change the opinions of those “yet enlightened.” And truthfully, to reap the benefits of yoga takes time and we all know that most men are far too impatient for that! (Yes, I am keenly aware of the sweeping generalization.) So rather, allow me to offer some more immediate or practical reasons that you may find yoga valuable:

• Yogi Squat pose will improve your Turkish toilet experiences.

• Several studies suggest yoga improves sexual performance…I’m just sayin’….Pse Jo?

• Yoga poses and stretching can help eliminate/minimize aches and pains often blamed on the typical Albanian Divan turned Crevat(fancy style futon).

• Breathe of Fire is a natural way to warm yourself from the inside-out on those blustery Dimer days. Are you listening Bajram Curri(a chilly northern town)?

• Too much fasule(a popular bean dish)? Plow pose provides a natural and comfortable exit strategy for your most gassy aftermath.


I’ll leave you to consider these points…and just maybe, we’ll improve that 20% male participation statistic se bashke. Regardless of gender, yoga is a personal journey and I hope to see you along the way. Namaste*.

*My instructor’s translation: From the place I know to be divine within me, I bow to honor the place I know to be divine within you. Sa bukur, huh? (Beautiful, huh?)

Peace, Love and Downward Dogs

Not Intentionally Withholding

(unlike Lucille Bluth who gets off on that kind of thing.)

Anyway...My apologies for the blog neglect. But I've got some good nuggets brewing. As a teaser, in coming editions you'll find 1)inspiration from Salt n' Pepa's "Push it", 2) Surviving Syd ;) and 3) Unanticipated benefits of Yoga in Albania.

I'm giddy with anticipation.

Peace, Love and Procrastination

Kamper or Kardashian

There’s this unwritten expectation that Peace Corps Volunteers really like to camp/kamp in Shqip. I’ve failed miserably at living up to this expectation. And despite some gentle ridicule from fellow volunteers, I am perfectly comfortable with such failure. Let’s put it this way, if the 10-point camping-comfort scale, with 1 being the Kardashian sisters and 10 being Bear Grylls, I’d likely score somewhere around a 3.2.

It’s a tough score to calculate because I’m not much of girly-girl. From time to time, I happily go without make-up (but never without my Neutrogena SPF moisturizer). And both in the US and Albania, I have practiced the art of No-Shower-Sundays. But my disinterest in eating scorpions, beetles or partially digested berries found in some fresh antelope feces while sleeping on wet rock in a bat-infested cave has me teetering (although painfully) on the Kourtney/Kim/Khloe end of the spectrum.

With further consideration, it is not the camping I dislike, but rather all the required gear and effort that turns me off. (oh, how my commitment issue rears its ugly head again.)

GEAR: Tent, Tent footprint, Tent rain cover, tent stakes, sleeping pad, sleeping bag, pillow, flashlight/headlamp, lantern, swiss army knife and/or leatherman, mess kit, canteen/flask, cooler, matches, flint, kindling, firewood, freeze-dried foods, clif bars (gross), hiking boots, backpack, water bottles, compass, first aid, bug spray, bear spray…..OY! Exhausted yet? I am, and I haven’t even started on clothing or toiletries. Are there any sherpas in the Balkans?

EFFORT: Let’s really take it back. First, you have to commit to the idea of becoming a camper b/c aforementioned gear ain’t cheap. So homegirl/boy needs to start scrimping to save the necessary fundage for the gear investment. Which could require such sacrifices as buying Wet’nWild polish over OPI or going with the “well” instead of Grey Goose. Choices like these have me questioning the integrity of these so-called “campers.” Plus, it’s physically grueling, so you’d better get that lard ass to the nearest gym and work on the ole BMI before hitting the trail!

Once the gear and physical fitness are acquired there are still many TO-DO’s. You have to decide where to go, make a grocery list, do the grocery shopping (which is actually one of my very favorite things to do. I’m serious; I love comparative price-checking.) pack and determine transportation to the trailhead. Sometimes that a few hours in itself….and then you have to start HIKING! So now you have to map out a route to a campsite, expend energy hiking (I can think of a few preferred alternative ways of expending energy… hey oh!), and maybe even bushwhack your way through some unruly flora/fauna.

Upon arrival at the campsite, you have to clear the ground of thorny vegetation, pitch your tent (if you’ve ever been in earshot of H.Lee Dunn pitching a tent, you want to wash your OWN mouth out with soap!), unroll sleeping bags, prepare a fire pit, dig a poop-hole and pre-plan anti-bear attack food storage. Maybe you get a little time to enjoy the nature surrounding your campsite. If you are lucky, a stream, waterfall or view of a snow-capped peak. Sounds nice. (Nicer, if you get flown in via chopper!) But before long, all that energy you spent has your stomach growling and its time to cook. Likely you are too hungry and impatient to cook with any creativity or standards, so meal preparation suffers. You close your day with a few campfire sing-alongs, maybe shots of vodka (the shitty kind since you just had to have those top-of-the-line binoculars), a stumbling walk through newly spun spiderwebs just to pee in private and before you know it... time for bed. Or should I say, time for ground.

Maybe you sleep well, maybe you don’t. Regardless….in the morning ( bright and early since tents don’t have black-out blinds) you get to do it all over again. But this time, in reverse! OK. I’m definitely missing something.

Soo... Here’s the thing, I’m perfectly capable of going without many of life’s creature comforts. And I do envy those who revel in nature and the camping experience. With what I’ve seen of Albania, both with my own eyes and through photos, the idea does become a little more enticing. This is a beautiful country with undiscovered territories and countless picturesque scenes from shorelines to mountaintops. But you know I’m still crossing my fingers for an easy alternative!

Those times when I do reluctantly choose to go camping… upon return, all I can think about is getting to the Spa. Which brings me to my dearest Nicole Rosalina, to whom I dedicate this post. On occasion, she and I have enjoyed OPI pedicures while consuming copious Grey Goose Cosmos or some other trendy and pretentious cocktail and leafing through US Weekly Magazines. It was from Darling Nicki that I adopted my preferred style of "roughing it": sleeping on the mattress pad because your sheets were still in the dryer and you were too tired to wait 10 more minutes or just too lazye to actually MAKE your bed. Kampers... we are NOT!

Peace, Love and Hotel Rooms

PS: If you are wondering how a non-camper such as myself compiled the information and opinions herein, I give an experiential shout out to the WashPa Camping Group, with whom I spent several summers in Deep Creek or Swallow Falls (sounds so much dirtier as an adult!) I will also credit REI.com with some helpful nuggets. However I am compelled to draw attention to the following bulleted selling point for an REI tent:

-Mood-elevating colors create a pleasant interior even when the weather outside is less than perfect.

Really REI? Really!?! Although this IS a trick an honorary Kardashian like me would totally fall for… I doubt any self-respecting camper gives a shit. Come on. One more thing… I have sent two nights in this very tent in Gjirokaster, Albania. The tent was set up in the foyer of a fellow volunteer’s home. Again, modified “roughin it.” And although I had a great visit…I do not attribute my enhanced mood to the colors.

The Truth Lies Within

Recently, I was lucky to be invited by Sergio, a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) Volunteer, to participate in his English Camp. This was a morning program for Albanian children/teens that were learning the language. But it also provided an opportunity for Education Majors at the University to gain some classroom experience. During one of my visits, the “teacher-in-training” shared a story about an old man who wanted to teach his lazy sons a lesson about hard work. In so doing, he told a lie. If you’re interested in the parable, visit http://anustoriesforchildren.blogspot.com/2010/07/hidden-treasure.html. (sorry, the link feature's being a pain in the ass at the moment.)

The young teacher had students practice diction by reading aloud, answer comprehension questions and then she lead a more philosophical discussion. Have you ever told a lie? When, if ever, is it OK to lie? Are there times when you should lie? The children’s answers were diverse and brought thoughtful justifications. Not to mention, pretty impressive English skills for these “beginner-intermediates!” As you’d imagine, they talked of occasions where the truth is black and white, as well as those that called for shades of grey. Their rhetoric made me think of debates I’ve entertained about the value of stretching the truth vs. brutal honesty (Hey, what’s up, Levi?).

All that being said, let me share some (essentially harmless) fibs, misrepresentations, half-truths and/or omissions that I’ve experienced during my service so far. Aside: Isn’t it fascinating how many softer words we use to buffer the intensity of the word LIE? Anyway, here goes:

• Stickers on the back of furgons or busses that say “air-conditioned” and often have snowflakes to further entice a rider. I’ve discovered that such stickers should lead you to believe that not only is there no A/C on the vehicle, but the windows are sealed shut, so don’t assume you’ll even enjoy a hot breeze!

• 150 Leke sandwich. UGH! I already told you about being over-charged for my sandwich in Voskopoja! But clearly, I’m still a little peeved! A 50% MARK-UP! What about my ill-fitting wardrobe makes you think I’m a well-off American? Oh right…the part where I’m American. Whatever, that doesn’t make it right!

• The meeting will start at 11.  OK, so it’s well-understood that Albanian meeting times are merely suggestions. This is something I can deal with. But I’m still trying to find the right period of lateness that doesn’t cause me to sit idle, but to be early enough to beat the last attendee. It’s a delicate dance.

• A furgon driver yelling, “Tiranë, gati!” Essentially, this means he’s READY to leave. Furgons are the mini-buses we use for city-to-city travel. The fiscally aware driver knows he gets more bang for his furgon buck if he leaves with a full load (8-10 people). So yelling GATI leads the gullible rider (guilty as charged) to assume he’s nearly full and will be departing shortly. NOT SO! In fact, there were only 3 others on the furgon I chose this morning and so we waited for about 25 minutes before heading out of Elbasan. GATI he was most certainly not.

Live and learn. And then discover that it usually takes several go-rounds to actually learn. E.G. That furgon I was “fished-into” this morning ... yea, about the 4th time I’ve been duped. Çfarë mund të bëj?/ What can I do? This is life in Albania. Should become jaded and less trusting? Or maybe I should just accept that it’s gonna be a while, turn on my iPod and enjoy another segment of “Wait, wait! Don’t tell me!” Thank you NPR Podcasts! I think I’m getting more NPR in Albania than I did in the States! NOW THAT’S THE TRUTH!

Peace, Love and Little White Lies

PS...there's a really great Freakanomics Podcast about "Faking It" that delves into the lies we ALL (yea, I said it.) tell everyday. It's worth a listen, if you are remotely interested.

Baited, Switched then Hooked

The Bait. A Facebook Invitation to help Eric, a fellow volunteer at his organization’s Summer Camp. It went down like this:

The camp would host approximately 75 children. With the organization’s staff, the adult to child ratio was already 1:6. Our role as PCVs would be to add support and maybe even develop some fun activities for the kids. Volunteers will be active, but also given some free time as well. OK, this sounds pretty good so far. Of course, I like kids and my schedule at the Bashkia was lean enough at the time to allow for a few days out of the office. My food and lodging would be paid for by the host organization and I’d just need to pay for my transportation to and from the camp. Getting better, I can save a few days worth of $Lëkë. Oh….and did I mention this camp was going to be at the beach/plazh?!? No Kidding! This camp was in Southern Albania, more precisely Borsh, a beach-front village/fshat on the Ionian Sea! (not far from Sarande, which is more likely to produce Google results. Do it and be jealous!)

Yes, please! Po, Ti Lutëm! Where do I sign up? Count me in! Clearly….I was totally and utterly FISHED-IN. In the days leading up to the camp, I sent some activity ideas to Eric (Shout Out to Childsplay and Tempe Leadership for in idea bank of awesome options!) and he developed a schedule utilizing many of them. I was so pleased to be playing an active role.

The Switch. What’s that expression? All that glitters is not gold. Which is why in instances such as this, I should remember that I’m a commitment-phobe for a reason! Do a little fact finding, test-drive that used Yugo, ask for a gelato sample before mixing Pistachio with Fruits of the Forest. The following details in the fabric were the things that made me panic (tip of the hat to one Mr. Jason Mraz):

• The only daily bus from Elbasan to Sarande leaves at 6AM. But in the summers, it can fill up, so best to get there by 5am to ensure you have a seat. Nuk jam një përsona e mëngjës. I am not a morning person.
• The 1.5 hour bus-ride from Sarande to Borsh induced motion sickness and therefore vomiting in no less than 67% of the participating children. And only 42% of them had plastic bags. Very little ventilation. (Think of Chunk’s story from Goonies about the massive ripple effect.)
• For fear of giving away the punchline, I previously elected to not use quotation marks around the word “lodging.” Now, perhaps watching too many American Summer Camp-type movies, deluded me enough to envision rustic log cabins. Stupid, yes I know! Tents, outhouses and public showers.
• Bugs. Mosquitos, Wasps, and other unidentified flying insects (more found inside our tents than outside, of course). During my recruitment interview with Lassana, I distinctly remember rating enormous insects as HIGH on the discomfort scale.
OK, so truthfully, I am perfectly capable of dealing with each of these little facets of Summer Camp. But, would I have been so Gung Ho about volunteering had I known better in advance? I like to think that I’d have been as eager to volunteer, but really, its difficult to say. That was A LOT of VOMIT.

And the Hook. What I can tell you now is this… if there’s a call for volunteers again next year, my response will surely be…. Yes, please! Po, Ti Lutëm! Where do I sign up? Count me in! Clearly….I am totally and utterly FISHED-IN.

During my time at the camp, I fell madly in love with no less than every child. Collecting rocks from the sea, playing Frisbee, Mother May I, creating secret handshakes, paper maché masks, untying human knots, falling asleep to the croaking frogs, sharing stories and dreams for the future… every moment was a gift! There’s something incredibly overwhelming when you recognize the power of encouraging words, or even simply listening* to a child’s story. Most of the children at this camp come from disadvantaged families, families where Mom and Dad’s only focus is survival. Attention, praise and affection for their children are all distant 2nds to putting food on the table. So our simple and sincere “bravo’s” and “shumë mirë’s/very good’s” and hugs and kisses on the foreheads brought an outpouring of love in return. One night, during a particularly gratifying round of hugs, one girl held on a little longer and whispered to me “Te dua shumë.” And while I unsuccessfully fought back tears, I responded with “Te dua gjithmonë.” And I always will. Thank you Eric for including me, I'll never forget it!

Peace, Love and Barfbags

*One boy came for a walk with me along the beach. And I was thinking, oh shit, how am I going to keep conversation going? Turns out, I never needed to….he did all the talking! My job was to keep him going with “the occasional “mmhmm,” “po…po” or “vertet?” All he needed was an audience and it was my absolute honor.