Chicken and Maggots 1 Sept 2009

The guy at the closest market totals up our purchases with a pencil and paper, the nearest restaurant is called, "The Chicken Shack," and right across the road nearest major road is a huge park that is stuffed with every manner of walker or jogger from the national soccer team to elderly ladies with canes walking around a track; once I met a guy pretending to be a monkey as he did a handstand on a railing, then let himself down slowly to walk 30 feet over a 25 foot drop over the concrete floor of an amphitheater.
Welcome to Albania. The friendliness of the people is probably best demonstrated by the owner of the chicken shack. One day, Oskar screamed out, "I have to pee!" The shack was the closest, and I hoped he would recognize me from the one time I had been there. We were able to sneak in because the restrooms are before you get the main part of the restaurant. We breezed in, did our business and were popping out when he (I don't know his name yet, but will soon. I don't even know a popular local name, yet so I can't make it up. Unlike Kazakhstan, not everyone is named one of five first names—Volodya, Sergai, etc.) showed up at the door. Rather than ask us why we were snooping around, or what we would like to order, asked me to confirm that I have two sons, and gave us two bottles of apple juice, sweating in the early evening humidity.
We enjoyed a family meal at the shack a couple days later—two Greek salads, two orders of French Fries, two apple juices, 1.5 liter bottle of water, one Sprite, a half liter of beer, and a whole chicken for about $15. We even took home some salad. A similar meal in Almaty would be at least twice as much. This restaurant is literally 10 steps from the gate to the school.
This week, I've been trying to think where to get some raw meat for a science experiment. On my way back from Mr. Paper and Pencil and a purchase of bananas, I thought I would pop in and try to make myself understood.
"Mirëmbrëma!" I said as I walked in putting my hand up, "I don't want to eat anything, I just want some raw meat. Raw meat. Yeah. RAAAW meat, for a science experiment." I don't why I thought that if I stressed the most troublesome word in the phrase, somehow he might understand.
I'd like to be able to tell some story about the ridiculous pantomimes of a foreigner without a dictionary, but Mr. Chicken understand perfectly as he said, "I have sheep." I nodded enthusiastically and he stepped over to his refrigerator. I selected a couple ribs and he said, "I also have your back,” as he touched my spine. He wouldn't take any money for it, either. Maura said the other day she was in there with the director looking for one of our employees and he gave her whole entourage ice creams. It's lovely to be in a place where people like you, and have some sense of hospitality in a shop.
The trash around is disgusting, and more often than in Almaty, I've seen people drop an empty cigarette package or a sandwich paper. Here, when I've picked it up to give back to them, they have always smiled broadly, taken the paper back and usually their friends have seemed to bawl them out as they walk away laughing.
What kind of science experiment? My first unit in 6 year old science involves living things, how they change and develop. I want to recreate the 1668 investigation by Francesco Redi. His work is considered one of the first true scientific experiments. Before this smart Italian, everyone accepted that living things could instinctively appear on non-living things. For instance, frogs would jump out of the fertile soil left behind after the yearly floods of Egypt; or sewage and garbage thrown out of the window in cities naturally produced tons of rats. Mr. Redi wanted to show that if he used a net to cover a jar with a piece of meat, it would NOT produce maggots; but if a similar jar had no covering, maggots would invade. So I'm going to do something comparable. I just have to ask my Albanian colleague to convince the super-efficient cleaning staff not to throw my experiment in the trash.

first weekend in Albania--August 2009

Here I am on Saturday afternoon in Albania. I'm sitting in my classroom which is a good thing because it means that my room has a computer that can access the internet. The greatest thing about this country is the people. I know I hear that from everyone about everywhere. I’ve even heard it said about Kazakhstan. I don’t even listen to it anymore, but just like there was a big popcorn ball in Sac City, this time I’m telling the truth. People smile and when you go into a shop, they try to help you. It’s like they understand the idea that their customers are the key to their livelihood.
This morning, as I ran through a huge park not a half mile from the school, there were several crews of workmen repaving the trails. My foot caught on a string that I assume was there to mark the height of asphalt or something. The string broke. I can think of nothing more annoying if I were a guy working on the sidewalk than a foreigner in a tie-dye shirt come bopping along and ruin my painstakingly placed marker. I couldn’t say that I was sorry. All I can do so far is say thank you (five syllables!) and I count to five. I looked pained made a motion of regret. The nearest guy with a hard hat motioned that I shouldn’t worry about it. The man making the motion was probably not the one who placed the string, but the sentiment was nice. I can imagine something similar happening in Kazakhstan and people yelling at me trying to fine me money. After all, money can salve all wounds.
Things are not expensive here, either. A similar jar of jam that costs $5 in Kazakhstan costs $2.60 here. I bought a monitor and printer for decent prices. I got ripped off on the price of a used computer case, but that was because I didn’t try to haggle or negotiate. I feel like it was partially my fault—I have to get into the culture. Peanut butter, however, is more expensive. When you all come to visit, please bring chunky—at least 32 oz.
We don’t get charged anything for using our ATM card here—just like in Kazakhstan. That means that I can use the card for less here than I can at the Des Moines airport.
Our house has three floors and air conditioners in several of the most important rooms. We live about 3 minutes from our classrooms; the only problem is that we have to go down two flights of stairs use a key to open two doors, and then go up two flights of stairs before using a key on our front door. The younger students, eight years old and less, have their own buildings. The older students have classes in a couple buildings not far away.
Tonight we are going to a BBQ hosted by one of the parents. I think they may be inviting a bunch of people so they can have a look at the new teachers.
The weather has been hot and humid everyday. No rain, which I’ve been told will change soon.
On Monday, the boys and I went with the 7-year-old teacher (a guy from Kentucky) to the beach. We left at 8:10 and were in the water by 9:00. HUGE amount of people. The sand is dark and looks like mud from 10 meters away, but it isn’t mud. Nevertheless, it gets into clothes and hair easily. The water was beautifully warm, but definitely salty.

Two Donkeys and a Moped 3

In addition to the natural splendor, our trip was another lesson in Albanian friendliness. Not only would people respond when offered a wave of the hand, but when meeting another car on the one-lane road, drivers would compete to achieve the honor of allowing the other person to traverse the slightly wider spot between the uneven-wooden fence and the stacks of hay.

Increasing the value of their natural wonders is also a priority here. On the road along the stream, there were several spots where heavy road-making machinery was in use. As we approached, the foreman would order the excavator to move to the side and allow us to pass. A couple times, we had to wait while a couple truckloads of rock were unloaded. We remarked how pleasant it was to see the workmen dressed casually in flowered shorts and flip-flops. Pleasant because we are used to seeing all men, no matter the weather, wearing long pants and gruff expressions at all times. At one point, a metal swinging footbridge crossed to the other side. I stepped daintily across before the boys tried it.

"Look, Mama! I can walk over this hole!"

"Oh, oh, oh!" her voice cracking. "Okay. I guess you can. Now be careful. I think you should—" "Look, Mama, I can walk on this rock!"

"Look, Mama, I can swing on the branch!"

All day Maura had to swallow some of her concern as we chose to allow the 'boys to be boys.' It was great. Another swinging wooden bridge featured a cow calmly chewing in the middle with a countenance of utter contentedness.

After another three hours of travel, we arrived at Valbona, the sight of a communist-era resort district. Now, there are no more than a dozen people living there. Most everything was destroyed in the late 90's during a period of lawlessness that invaded the country. The hotel, which our guidebook says was rebuilt and reopened had holes for windows, crumbling walls, and livestock exploring the bottom floor. We stopped at the restaurant that must employ the whole town, the sign for which featured a scary-looking lamb stretched out over a fire. We netted our fish from a pond and shared out table with roaming sheep and goats.

We returned to the town of Bajram Curri for an evening of cards and story telling. The owner appeared—bad news—he was NOT the man with whom we negotiated earlier. He said that the price was higher than we expected. After a bit of back and forth, our friend Mr. Negotiator appeared—quite drunk and rude. After discerning that this man was no good to us, our school director, Mark, put it succinctly. Motioning to one side of the table, he said, "Okay. Here are the keys," and, motioning to the other, "here is the money. Take it or leave it." We returned to the town near the ferry. In the morning, we would have a short trip to the boat, and we still had time for a couple games of Blockus. We paid 6000 lek. For some pictures of the ferry and of Valbona from 2006, go here:

http://www.gadling.com/2006/07/27/balkan-odyssey-part-10-lake-komani-albania/ http://www.gadling.com/2006/07/28/balkan-odyssey-part-11-valbona-albania/

two donkeys a moped 2

There are many advantages to traveling with young kids—one of which is that ship captains will be friendly and will often invite you into the cockpit. We stepped into the small room with three US flags tacked on the walls. “I am a fan of the US,” he said. He had his fingers on a small toggle switch instead of the steering wheel, but he wasn’t making any course corrections. The captain explained how the boat is guided electronically. I imagine that there are sensors that bounce signals off the sides of the mountains that automatically adjust the rudder so we stay exactly in the middle of the channel.

Along with the naked beauty of the mountains, sometimes not more than 10 meters away, at times we could see calm scenes of agricultural peace. We learned that these houses, with their grapes, terraced corn,

and boats tied up on the beach, belonged to men on the wrong side of a blood feud that may have lasted hundreds of years. In sparsely populated northern Albania, the core rules are set by Kanun code—traditional system of laws practiced since medieval times. Apparently, these people ended up here after being exiled from every other town in the area. There are no roads to their abode, no electricity. The isolation is alluring.

At the northern end, we drove off to another dirt road that made us glad again that it was not raining. At the first village, we stopped to ask if there was a hotel in town. We investigated four rooms for 10 Euros per person. Merita, the school's office manager, asked why they would give the price in Euros when we are in Albania. No answer. Albania uses the Lek, with is worth about 110% of a cent. 90 Lek = 1 USD = 70 Euro cents. I was ready to reserve the place and then we would be free to explore for the rest of the day. After all, I have stayed in much worse 'hotels' in Moscow, Kiev, and Azerbaijan. Merita, however, wisely said that the price was not cheap, so we should look at the next town, Bajram Curri, 30 minutes away, where a hotel was described in our guidebook. We easily found the hotel and negotiated a price of 6000 lek for two nice rooms plus a couple dormitory cots. We had five adults, three teenagers, and Oskar and Maxim.

Now we were ready to commence the final leg of the excursion to a former vacation spot near the border with Montenegro. The gravel road followed a turquoise steam that was so clear, one could peer into 10-foot deep pools and see the future. Words really can’t describe the luscious beauty of the roadside stream. I wanted to go down to wash my troubles away. One valley was a model for The Shire, home of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins with huge haystacks, goats, cows, stick fences, water springs, and a bearded elderly farmer riding a donkey pulling vegetables in a rickety wooden-wheeled wagon. Sprinkled lightly across this bucolic scene were hints of modernity like a satellite dish on top of the outhouse, or a dirty moped straining under the weight of a shepherd and a young pig tied to the rear rack.

You might think that in a country where the main religion is Muslim, there would be few, if any, pigs—not so. When you buy a hamburger here, that’s what you get—a hamburger. As with the FSU (Former Soviet Union), religion was not in favor for several decades. An article in Slate.com has these words:

Enver Hoxha, the country's Muslim-born Marxist-Leninist dictator, outlawed all religious practices, books, and icons in 1967, declaring Albania the world's "first atheist state." Perhaps not coincidentally, the Muslim world's most tolerant nation is also its most secular. A recent Gallup poll found that of every Balkan and Muslim-majority nation, Albania had the smallest proportion of people who said religion was an important part of their daily lives.

http://www.slate.com/id/2226840/entry/2226843/

Two Donkeys and a Moped 1

Two donkeys and a moped

A bus with spare jet engines strapped to the top, another with a living room set of furniture, another with a live goat, mountains spiking skyward from the water’s edge, the boat heading directly into a wall of rock, a wedding party, and a dozen calves. Highlights from our 2-hour ferry ride in northern Albania last week.

We had left Tirana at 5:30 am for a three-hour drive to the ferry launch. The last 500 meters, we crawled through a dark tunnel made by a Looney Tunes character with bare rock, bare light bulbs, and zero braces or supports. Gratefully, we arrived in plenty of time, and at 10:00 the boat appeared on the reservoir just above the dam. While we waited, the morning crew unloaded the sheep and calves. After a small boat filled with hay moved on and the calf dinghy putted away, we were treated to a bird’s eye demonstration of a delightfully cruel way to wash sheep. A man tied a rope around the animal’s neck and proceeded to sloop him back and forth in the water. We wondered if the wool would shrink.

Washing the sheep

classroom first day

click on the picture to see a large version

Ledia, crazed Iowan, Eljona

my students on the first day

My classroom

my classroom is the first floor of the white house. Behind it is the 8 year old classroom, and then the school office. identical buildings. the rest of the school is in three more similar buildings with a few larger modern buildings for secondary.

40 minutes from Tirana

Photos of the house

View from the 3rd floor.

Our green house with our immovable truck in the front.

Walk down the steps, unlock the gate.

Unlock another gate, walk up the stairs.

front hallway

our bedroom on third floor

living room first floor

up the stairs. Iowa flag