I ♥ Spring

Winter is long and cold unless you live on the equator.  I don’t, nor do I live in a northern society with warm furs and big fires.  I live in a place that doesn’t freeze and rarely gets snow.  However, I refuse to say it’s not cold.  I live in a concrete icebox.  It’s cold all the time precisely because it’s rarely freezing.  Down in southern Albania we use little electrical radiators that keep people in a six to eight inch radius warm, perfect for one very sedentary person with a blanket.  Thus, at home I live as a hopping/shuffling mobile sleeping bag burrito or under an unzipped sleeping bag draped over the radiator.

Winter affects all aspects of my life.  I shower less in the winter.  I hate to impart too much information, but getting naked in the cold induces cartoon-like exclamations.  I've heard cold weather has driven volunteers  to sleep in their clothes or to sleep with their clothes in order to avoid chill-inducing apparel in the mornings.  The good news is we take coats off for bed and bathing, so coats cover wrinkled day-old clothes well.

The permeating effects don’t stop there.  Volunteers have been diagnosed with trench foot.  Yes, you read that.  One volunteer walks with chemical heating pads in her boots.  The cold has even affected my perspective on entertainment.  My first winter I watched a movie where someone walks inside and takes off a coat, and I’m screaming, “Don’t do it!  It’s cold inside!”  In fact, on sunny days it’s colder inside than it is outside. 

Why am I telling you this?  Winter is over.  I could have completed volunteer service without anyone knowing about my winter hygiene.  (On my behalf, my hygiene improves in warm weather, and I always brush my teeth.)  You have the privilege of reading this because I want you to know I love spring.  I love it a lot.  It became my favorite season after my first winter in Albania, that time between freezing and burning when everything is perfect.  When I landed in Albania for the first time in March a presumably Albanian passenger said, “That’s my green,” looking out the window.  Albania does have it’s own special green, and it’s worth celebrating. 

When you're ready for winter to end, celebrate the vernal equinox.  I celebrated it in Gjirokaster this year with other volunteers.  The day was that momentous.  We didn’t light bonfires and dance, but we did picnic and teach some students how to play American tag football.  I'm still waiting for it to warm up just a little, but Monica, my site mate, and I took a walk to photograph cherry trees this week.  Spring is here, and I couldn’t be happier.

Two Years in the Land of the Eagles

Days are long, but years fly by. When I was young I used to talk to my mom about how long a year was. I mean a year was forever. She used to say, "Well, a year is about 1/10 of your life, but it's more like 1/40 of mine, so it seems longer to you." Almost every morning for two years I have gone to the health center and sat in an office I share with the nurse I work with and anyone getting shots or an IV line. I arrive at 8:30 after passing and saying good morning to neighbors, storeowners, and the couple that sells fish on the corner. It’s still chilly, so the fish are still fresh. It is also sunny, which is a sign spring is on the way. After making this walk almost everyday since I arrived in my southern town in the land of the eagles almost two years ago, I see the mountains surrounding this little Albanian town and the people who live here, and I never want to forget. While health, educational, and economic development are very important, I see other kinds of development coming too, and it hurts to see this moment in time slip away. The further away I am, the less I will remember, but I hope I never forget the way it feels to live here, now.

When I pass the post office, my favorite postal worker hangs out the window with a big smile and calls me. In the street, I meet the byrek man, and we chat. (Byrek is layered dough with spinach, meat, or cheese filling.) When I walk to my English lesson, children in the street remind me they are still brushing their teeth, and they ask when I'm coming back. The students who stop me in the road are among the first through fifth graders in the city who received lessons on oral hygiene. Each student received a calendar to keep track of his or her oral hygiene habits. The most diligent students will receive a toothbrush or dental floss (compliments of Drs. Parkey and Davis).

It feels so amazing when I actually see change from my Peace Corps work. Parents have jokingly complained their children care too much about their teeth now, brushing three or four times a day. A student found me in the store and asked me how much dental floss costs, and this is huge because dental floss has only been in the city for a few months now. Very few people know what it is or how to use it. In a place where few people make it to adulthood with all their teeth, it feels good to give these children a choice. It feels good to give this community a choice about its health.

I can’t claim the change that is happening here. Albania is changing with or without Peace Corps or me. The nurse I work with, the dentist who visited the schools with me, the community member who started the environmental campaign, these are the people who are changing their own community, and I get to be a part of it. It's one of the parts of living here that feels so good, being a member of a community. As spring approaches so does my close of service. I have a little over two months to enjoy. It seems like I'm living life slowly day by day, but I can tell I'm living at light speed. I'll be back. Albania will be different when I do, but so will I. The nurse I work with looks forward to meeting my future husband and children. I don't know if such people will exist, but someday I may be explaining time to someone who thinks a year is forever, and I know now two years can fly by.