E dua Delvinen. (I love Delvina.)

It's taken over a year, a grant, a student group, and 500 cloth bags, but our Earth Day activity came together (on actual Earth Day!).  The pictures say it better than I can.  The first photo is mine.  I have to thank Mon for the others.  I also have to thank my friend Klod, the student group, the nuns, and Delvina.

I'll walk you through briefly.  Then, please enjoy.  We set up three stations for people to visit in order.  The first had environmental information, including information on the advantages of reusable bags.  The second had a questionnaire about the environment and community activities for future planning.  The last distributed cloth bags with a logo that reads, "I love Delvina.  I protect the environment."

Glorious Food

Peace Corps has three goals.  Goal one is about service, and goals two and three are about cultural exchange.  I do have goal one activities going on.  The nurse I work with and I just finished revisiting the schools to check on the dental calendars we gave the students to track their teeth-brushing.  Today at about 1:30, we finished designing a health gazette that we've been working on for weeks, and the nurse I work with did most of the work, which is exceptional for someone who learned how to use the shift key just over a month ago.  Next week, I hope to be telling you about another project, but today, it's cultural exchange.  The first cultural exchange is here in Albania.  The second will occur if you choose to read this.  There we have it, goals two and three.

So here's the project.  My site mate, Mon, has recruited me, and I think it's a fabulous idea.  We are documenting some of our favorite Albanian dishes.  (Well, more she documents, and I help.  She has this amazing SLR camera, and my little point and shoot doesn't compare at all, so mostly I watch and try to estimate amounts of the ingredients for the recipes.)  I'm usually ambivalent towards Albanian cuisine.  It's similar to cuisine of other countries in the region but not.  I think byrek (thin dough layered with fillings like spinach or onion), speca te mbushura (stuffed peppers), and fasule (beans) can be absolutely delicious, but I wouldn't even eat djathe i bardhe or "white cheese" when I came here because I was expecting feta, and despite it's resemblance, feta it is not.  In spite of this, my tastes have changed as I've lived here.  I eat djathe i bardhe.  I even drink dhalle, a salty yogurt drink, without flinching, so while I won't be learning to make dhalle for all my American friends, I'm excited to dive into some Albanian cooking.

This isn't my first venture into an Albanian kitchen.  My host mother made a variety of foods, and I ate almost all of them.  I enjoyed her homemade byrek so much that she made it three times in the last week I was there, and she always served it to me for breakfast the next morning when she made it.  She even taught me how to roll out byrek dough, though I still need to perfect the fillings.  That may be a project for a different time.  Mon and I did out first official joint session last week.  We learned how to make hashure, one of her favorites, and qollopite, one of mine.  We went to the kitchen of the family of two of her students and our mutual friends.  So here it goes.  

First up was hashure.  I won't give you the recipe or take you through it step by step.  If you want some, ask me when I come back to the US.  Hashure is a regional dish that's essentially wheat berries, boiled in water, thickened with cornstarch, sweetened with sugar, and seasoned with cinnamon.  The result is a jello-like consistency dessert.  I like picking the wheat berries out and eating the raisins on top.  Mon is a little more traditional and eats the whole thing.

Next, we made qollopite, which reminds me of Southern biscuits a little.  It's bread with the ever-changing and quite versatile djathe i bardhe inside.  I could eat this all the time.  It reminds me of cornbread, although it's made with wheat flour, and really, it's just delicious.  Mon and I both went home with a serving of both dishes.  I ate my qollopite and gave the hashure to a friend.  Mon ate the hashure and gave the qollopite to a friend.  It would have made the perfect exchange, but no, we didn't switch with each other.

Saturday, we're going at it again in a recipe exchange.  We are showing the family how to make brownies (a sweet chocolate cake-like dessert), and they are showing us how to make qifqi (seasoned rice balls).  In the future I hope to re-learn how to make byrek and speca te mbushura.  I'd also like to learn how to make brushel (green onion bread), turshi (pickled veggies), and baklava, despite the fact that I haven't quite been able to enjoy it since the great forced eating of baklava on my first new year here.  I wish I could share the results of these cooking ventures, but that will have to wait about 10 weeks, and maybe I can reproduce some of them then.  Until then, Ju befte mire! (Bon appetit!)

Marriage

We ate; we drank, and we circle-danced.  The day before Easter I wedding pre-partied for 4 hours.  The bride works in the hospital, and the groom owns a Tirana-bound furgon (minibus).  (My parents know him as the jaunty one.)  At 10:30 the bride made her grand entrance tightly laced into a bejeweled hoop skirt dress and all made up.  She joined in the dancing, heading every one, followed by a little girl striving to keep the bride's dress off the floor.  Finally, the groom arrived, and the bride and groom danced together, Albanian style, of course.  This isn't a waltzing occasion. People circled round and passed the couple props, starting with fake flowers and a handkerchief, followed by champagne, chairs to dance on, and finally, a flaming napkin.  (I noticed the bride was not dancing near the groom when the flaming napkin was produced.)   The couple must have had substantial endurance because this was probably the last of several days of pre-partying, and the bride's wedding wasn't until that evening.  After that, they still had a wedding parade out in the street and the groom's wedding Sunday.   I believe the partying goes into the early morning with copious mounts of meat, deafening music, and endless dancing, although I've never actually attended all of a typical wedding's festivities.  

People ask me whether Albanian weddings or American weddings are better, and I, like I always do, say they're just different.  On one hand, I think having a whole weekend and parade dedicated to a wedding is fun.  On the other, weekend long festivities are expensive and really tiring.  Plus, wedding parties and parades annoy the neighbors and cause traffic jams, but it's no surprise that so much time and money go into wedding festivities.  Getting married is very important in the culture.  Virtually everyone wants to get married, and family is so important that it's almost unimaginable not to want children.  Furthermore, the words for man and woman also mean husband and wife.  A girl isn't a woman and a boy isn't a man until they get married. 

I can't possibly count how many times I've had conversations about when I'll get married, why I'm not already, and whether I should marry an Albanian or an American.  After all, there's no time to lose.  I'm not worried, but if I had been brought up here, I would be.  Married women get more respect. Unmarried women are old maids.  Girls are supposed to learn to be good hostesses, cooks, and cleaners (all useful qualities but not exclusively for girls).  I guess it's not so different than the United States, historically, but I think it's really interesting how women can be almost anything they want professionally, with the exception of a furgon driver; I've never met a female furgon driver, but the gender roles are still so unbalanced.  This could open a whole host of issues, but just trust me; it's unbalanced.

I'm all for marriage for men and women who want to get married, especially if I'm invited to eat some wedding cake, circle dance a little, and take home some cookies.  I only wish it was more of a choice, and less of a defining feature of a person's relationship with society, so congratulations to the new happy couple!  I wish them all the best and would like to thank them for a great time, but let it be said, I don't believe in old maids.

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.