All The Water You Want To Drink

One of the perks of our current location is our ability to take quick and easy trips around Europe.  In keeping with this idea, we recently spent Martin Luther King weekend in Rome.  We were the ultimate tourists and visited the City's top attractions- the Vatican, Colosseum, Roman Forum, and Trevi Fountain.  It was a whirlwind few days that was made especially so with a two year old in tow.  However, because we had a two year old with us, we saw these sights through his eyes.

I'm putting it mildly when I say that Sidney is obsessed with water. Uji (Albanian for water) is the first word he learned when we arrived in Tirana and he never misses an opportunity to investigate the water around him.   I even shipped Sidney's new water table to Albania ahead of our arrival so that it could be here waiting for him.

The irony of this love of water is that we live in a country where water is not potable.  Sidney can play with the water in the sink but he can't drink it.  (This of course, makes bath time a challenge).  His aforementioned water table is only filled with distilled water.  The giant water distiller in the kitchen makes for hours of potential water playing fun.  Visits to the Embassy require keeping a tight hold of his hand lest Sidney end up in the courtyard water fountain.   (This has happened on more than one occasion).  The smallest sidewalk puddle is reason enough to stop and play.  (Of course, the real challenge arises in explaining why he can't drink the water).

The child can spot water from a mile away.  His excitement at riding the ferry from Albania to Italy was compounded by all of the water that surrounded us.  "Uji, uji, uji" became the refrain of our waking hours once on board.

Sidney comes by his love of water naturally.  I've been told that Glenn loved water and water fountains as a child.  Glenn grew up and joined the Navy which gave him the opportunity to spend months at sea surrounded by nothing but water.  Even today, his biggest complaint about life in Albania is the fact that there aren't any water fountains, and when there are, it is not safe to drink from them.

Sampling the water at the Trevi Fountain

Given this, both Glenn and soon Sidney, were very excited to be in Rome- a City whose fountains are legendary. A stroll through Piazza Navona took well over an hour due to the three- yes three- large fountains that line the plaza.  The Trevi Fountain?  Not only was there so much water to look at but there were fountains to drink from.  (I'll admit that I even drank from a fountain there and I never drink from fountains in any location).  For Sidney, the highlight of the trip to St. Peter's Basilica was the fountain in Piazza S. Pietro.  From a two year old perspective, each space in the bridge over the Tiber River requires investigating.  After all, a different vantage point can make the water below look all new.  While I enjoyed the historical aspect of the ancient ruins of the Roman Forum, my two boys used our explorations as an opportunity to locate and drink from every drinking fountain we came upon.

Yes, our time in Rome was a wonderful, water filled weekend.  Now we're back in Tirana- the City of non-potable and unreliable water.  We're back to explaining to Sidney that he can't drink water out of the tap and that puddles here are more apt to be toxic than not.  Last night Glenn put Sidney to bed- after a bath that was more of a battle to not drink the water- and we noticed that there was one reliable water related thing in this country.....our monthly water bill had been thrown over our gate and was sitting in the yard.


 

Ushering in 2012 With A Big Bang

The view from our third floor balcony

From the moment we arrived in Albania, people have been telling us that we must stay in Tirana for New Years. Albanians and Americans alike told us that if we stayed here, we would witness celebrations like we have never seen.  And after last night, I can say that New Years in Tirana is like nothing I have ever experienced.

We had been told to expect fireworks and told that our street would resemble the wild west as the midnight hour neared.  Now Albanians seem to love their fireworks.  When a local fireworks storage facility caught fire last month, Albanians were horrified not by the fire, but by the thought of losing all of those fireworks. During the summer wedding season, brief firework displays are a nightly occurrence.   Knowing this, we anticipated a few more flashes of light in the sky but that was about it.

The days leading up to the end of the year were ordinary enough; the usual crazy traffic, pushing crowds in the grocery store, and sense of post-Christmas let down.  I had been told that New Years is to Albanians as Thanksgiving is to Americans. This accounted for the herds of turkeys being peddled on the sides of the roads.  I was just thinking of the holiday as an opportunity for another four day weekend (at the Embassy we get two days off for the holiday- American New Years and Albanian New Years).

New Years Eve morning was cold and clear. With schools being out for the winter break, the neighborhood kids were out on the street early using our gate as a springboard for their basketball.  An occasional firecracker exploded in the neighborhood but even that wasn't unusual.  As the afternoon wore on the number of exploding firecrackers increased but it was by no means crazy outside.

Around 2200 the neighborhood kids started a bonfire in the road.  I knew we had been in Albania too long because I found this amusing rather than alarming.  The number of exploding firecrackers increased and a few kids went as far as throwing them over the wall into the Turkish Embassy compound next door.  The local guard force chased them off into the dark and again the street returned to a relative calm.

As the midnight hour approached I struggled to stay awake but I figured since I had lasted this long - for the first time in many years- I might as well stay awake for the remaining 15 minutes.

At the strike of midnight it seemed as if the entire city exploded in a burst of fireworks.  Unlike in the United States, Tirana doesn't have an official, government sponsored fireworks display. Fireworks are legal and it seemed as though every resident had their own personal stash.

For well over an hour the sky was illuminated with exploding fireworks.  We had a spectacular view from our third floor balcony. All of our neighbors were in the street, or on their roofs, shooting off fireworks, bottle rockets, and for the smallest of neighbors, sparklers. A few came precariously close to us, landing in our yard.  I saw this happening all over the City and but realized that in a land of concrete houses with clay roofs, the chances of a fire starting were pretty slim.

Glenn and I couldn't believe what we were seeing.  As Sidney slept inside, unaware of the exploding world around us,  we watched as the light display continued on and on.  The air was heavy with the smell of gun powder.  Everyone was right; we were witnessing a display unlike anything we had ever imagined.  Back in Norfolk, the mere sound of a firecracker had the cops investigating. (We remembered one Fourth of July when Glenn and his friend Chris shot off a few small fireworks in our yard. Within minutes the police were swarming our street searching for the source of the explosion).  But we aren't in Norfolk anymore. We're in the land of unregulated pleasures where anything goes.  

In the dawn of the new year, the smell of gun powder still lingers in the air.  An occasional firecracker continues to explode in the neighborhood, but then again, that is the norm.  Like most of our experiences here in Tirana, words and pictures just cannot do them justice.  New Years had been described to us and we didn't believe it until we too had experienced it.

Now 2012 is here and it literally started with a bang.  My one hope is that the rest of the year is quieter and less exciting than the first few minutes were.  Here's to a happy new year!

A Christmas Road Trip Through the Former Yugoslav Republic

For Christmas we decided to get out of Albania and get out we did.  After consulting our master destination wish list, maps, and the weather we decided to head to Ljubljana, Slovenia.  Logistics (i.e. a small child with lots of paraphernalia) made it easier to drive so we planned a route that meandered up the Adriatic Coast from Albania to Slovenia via Montenegro, Croatia, and for a very brief time, Bosnia-Herzegovina. 

Covering just over 600 miles each way, the trip proved to be an amazing contrast of geography, western development, and cultures and was just what we needed to unwind.  Highlights included:

Montenegro:

·         The Albania-Montenegro border crossings.  One lane dirt roads manned by chain smoking border police made us feel like we had gone back in time to old Eastern European stereotypes.  These roads (both of them!) are the main north-south routes through the Balkans and drive home just how inaccessible Albania still is.  If one doesn't want to feel welcome in a country, trying to drive across the Albanian border from the north is the way to go.

·         The breath taking views of the snow covered mountains as we drove the hairpin turns from Budva to Podgorica.  The Albanian translation for “Montenegro” is “black mountains” and the views left us speechless.

·         The rocky and rough landscapes that seemed to perfectly illustrate the country’s history.

·         Taking the car ferry across the Bay of Kotor.  A quick, 4 € trip saved us over an hour of driving time and provided Sidney with the opportunity to gaze at his beloved uji (water).

Croatia:

·         An overnight in each direction in Dubrovnik where we chased Sidney through kilometers of pedestrian only marbled streets and alleyways in the City’s  walled Old Town.

·         The Pucić Palace Hotel, the only hotel located in the Old Town and in the heart of all of Dubrovnik’s action.

·         Dinner at an Italian restaurant where we had a lively conversation with a Canadian and an Australian who were in law school in Paris (now that’s international).

·         Driving along the Dalmatian Coast.  The pictures I took just don’t do it justice.  Between the cloudless blue sky and the translucent water I think this is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. 

·         The numerous tunnels along the interstate.  Not only was the new highway perfectly maintained and traffic free (maybe I’ve been living in Albania too long), but the tunnels carved through the mountains transported us from one weather zone and into another.

·         Croatia’s varied geography.   The shape of Croatia results in numerous topographic and weather zones with each being more impressive than the last.

Bosnia-Herzgovina:

·         We blinked and we almost missed it.  We were there such a short period of time that we never received stamps in our passports.  Once you looked past the tacky tourist hotels clustered around the beach town of Neum, the short stretch of coastline is classically beautiful.

Slovenia:

·         The old European feel of Ljubljana that couldn’t be farther from what we had experienced along the Adriatic Coast.  It is hard to believe that just twenty years ago all of these countries had co-existed under the single identity of Yugoslavia. 

·         The magical lights and festive atmosphere that continued past Christmas day.

·         The street musicians, Christmas markets, and food vendors that lined the pedestrian zoned Ljubljanica River.   Every evening brought about a live musical performance along the river.  Traditional Slovenian folk music, church choirs, American cover bands, Sidney enjoyed dancing to them all.

·         Our suite at the Antiq Palace Hotel.  Our temporary living space was larger, and better appointed, than our apartment back in D.C.

·         Eating street food (Slovenian sausages with red pepper relish were a favorite) and drinking lots of Kuhino Vino (mulled wine).

·         A smoke free atmosphere that was truly smoke free.  It was so nice to sit in a restaurant and not be surrounded by toxic clouds of tobacco.

·         Hiking up to the frosty Ljubljana Castle then taking the tram down.

·         Food, food, and more food.  Our taste buds were reawakened as we ate Mexican, Indian (some of the best I have ever had), and Slovenian foods.  You don’t realize what you are missing until it is gone. 

·         The family friendly atmosphere that was pervasive throughout the entire City.  Restaurants provided high chairs - in Albania we are so used to them not being available that we now travel with our own booster seat in the back of the car.  Every evening children of all ages were out and about on the streets with their families.

The best thing about the entire trip, however, was that we got to spend time together as a nuclear family.  For the first time since we’ve been married, we were able to spend the holidays together without being pulled between conflicting family obligations.  Phone calls and texts from the Embassy were kept to a minimum and we spent several blissful days without any buzzing from Glenn’s Blackberry.  I loved it.  Glenn loved it.  And Sidney loved it- or so he told us in his two-year old ‘s vocabulary.  And that is what the Christmas season should be about.

Twas the Week Before Christmas

Twas the week before Christmas and at the house Brown

We were busy settling into the first holiday season in our new town.

Our tree was imported and decorated with many a light

But the stockings seem to have gone missing during the long overseas flight.

Along Bulevardi Deshmoret e Kombit and Skenderbeau Square the lights are all a flair

Making me wonder why those in residential areas are so rare.

The weather is warm, humid and very wet

But Glenn is hoping that the snow we see in the mountains will get here yet.

Tirana’s first try at a Christmas market is impressive

The overall atmosphere is quite festive.

Food, wine, and craft vendors are numerous

But  I find a lingerie booth and a lack of reliable electricity there humorous.

An unreliable internet connection initially made gift buying a flop

But in the end Abcom and Amazon came through and allowed me to shop.

Presents were then purchased and arrived via mail pouch

Proving that even in Albania, Santa is no slouch.

A last minute Embassy decision temporarily lifted the restrictions on outgoing mail

So local shopping ensued and family at home will now receive Albanian trinkets without fail.

Everything is now here but gifts have yet to be assembled and wrapped  

And of course this cannot always take place while Sidney takes his nap.

Our holiday parties and dinners are in full swing

Numerous turkeys have been cooked yet there is still fighting over the wings.

Pans and dishes left over from cookie baking fill the sink

And we’ve been gifted with more “special” Albanian raki than we would ever want to drink.

At night the boys sleep soundly in their flannel lined beds

While Mama sits at the computer typing out all of the lists that run through her head.

Cards have been mailed and reservations made

But there is still the fear that additional plans must be laid.

Did I cook enough food to feed the crowds

Did the job I do make Glenn proud?

Will our guests feel like they are treated as kings and queens

Should we buy more toys to donate to the Marines?

These are the things that at night keep me awake

I should go to bed but alas, there is yet another list to make.

Whether I'm ready or not Christmas will arrive

And that is the same regardless whether we are in Albania or stateside.

I'm the only one who will know that gifts remain hidden

I'm the only one who cares that the red in the centerpiece does not match my linen.

I'm the only one who notices that the tree is off balance

I'm the only one who sees the speck of dust on the valance.

Each year I vow to reduce my stress

But another holiday season arrives with  more to-do lists hot off of the press.

So in this Christmas week I have one wish to all of our family and friends

May the holidays and new year bring health, happiness and good will to all (wo)men.

Old Meets New........An Albanian Folk Music Concert

Last week Glenn and I attended a concert sponsored by the Albanian Ministry of Defense.  I wasn't sure what to expect since the only details on the invitation were those discussing the dress code (which in Albania, is always loosely interpreted and this concert proved to be no exception).  Because the concert was sponsored by the military I think I expected to see a program filled with patriotic, Souza-type music.  Imagine my surprise when I learned that we would be spending our evening listening to "masterpieces of the Albanian spiritual heritage."

cifteli

Regardless of its cultural origins, I have never been a fan of folk music.  While I can appreciate all genres of music for their artistic and perhaps historical significance, I tend to find folk music to be scratchy and hard on the ears.  Albanian folk music proved to be no exception.


The evening's program consisted of 18 pieces of Albanian folk music- some accompanied by traditional instruments- including the cifteli, sharki, and zumare, others accompanied by traditionally dressed dancers, and several songs sung a capella.  All of the performances were presented on stage in front of impressive, and ever changing visual images of Albania's natural beauty.  (Of course the ubiquitous double-headed black eagle- the national symbol- was present for several of the pieces.)  The musical and dance numbers represented traditions from both the north and south of Albania and were performed by men and of all ages.  I have to say that overall, the concert was impressive in both its scope and professionalism.

The entire production reminded me once again that despite Albania's dark and often painful past, her national pride and spirit remain strong.  While the country is barreling ahead and attempting to modernize at breakneck speed, she continues to celebrate and honor her traditional past.  Much to the delight of the audience, young boys danced the dances of their forefathers with pride. Their performance received just a much applause as did that of the old Albanian man performing solo on the stage.  Just this man's performing in front of a crowd of thousands would have been unimaginable to him when he was a boy.

Out of all of the things I have witnessed about Albania and Albanians over the past six months, it is their enduring love of country and sense of tradition that I find the most endearing.  Yes, new roads, high rise buildings and shopping malls are being built each year. Albania continues to strive towards gaining EU membership and recognition as a western, first-world country.  In looking around Tirana on a daily basis I see how new and modern are the current ideal.  Despite all this, however, Albania continues to honor and hold onto her cultural traditions.  And this, in my opinion, is the most important thing of all.  We may know where we are now and where we want to be tomorrow but all is lost if we forget where we came from.

Bring on the Rain

The rain has arrived and in Albania, that means winter is here.  I've been a bit out of sorts since the calendar tells me it is December and we are a mere 2 1/2 weeks away from Christmas, yet the weather has felt more like a New England September day.  For over a month now, people have been telling me that the rainy season could start at any time.  Prior to this week I could count the number of times it had rained since June on one hand (and half of those were rain incidents that barely qualified as such).

We desperately need the rain.  It seems as though the entire country is covered in a thick layer of dust.  Tree leaves and plants having been looking gray, not from a change of the seasons, but from an ever growing dusty film.  More importantly, Albania is a country predominantly powered by hydro-electric power.  No water means no electricity.  Even during the best of times, electricity in Albania is notoriously unreliable.  Six plus months without any measurable rain only adds to the problem.  In the past couple of weeks I've noticed that our generator has been running more than usual and the neighborhoods surrounding our house have been suspiciously dark at night.  We may be inconvenienced by the flickering electricity but for most Albanians, unreliable electricity is a true problem.

So what does the rainy season mean in Albania?  Well, if you live in a concrete house like we do, it means it is loud.  Sometimes the rain sounds like bombs are going off.  This is especially true when the heavy rain is accompanied by thunder.  After a heavy rain what had been dry dust becomes gloppy mud.  The regular piles of litter are even more pronounced since they get washed downhill and collect in low lying areas.  Navigating the Embassy compound becomes a challenge as I must now dodge raindrops and puddles as well as traffic.  I must find new ways to entertain Sidney since outdoor play is not an option.  When it rains, it is damp, raw, and just plain gray.

The weather changes quickly here.  What starts off as a beautiful morning- like today- quickly turns dark and ominous as the day progresses.  Or the opposite could be true. Yesterday morning was gray and drab but the sun peaked out at noon and the afternoon was beautiful (well, compared to the gray rain, that is).  For a brief time the air actually smelled clean and refreshing.  Some days are just dark and gray with the cloud bank never lifting off of the mountains.  There is a constant drizzle that makes the drabness of Tirana even more pronounced.

If nothing else, now that the rain has arrived the weather is just plain unpredictable. After months of bright, hot sunshine I don't know what to expect.  I'm quickly learning to carry an umbrella in my purse at all times.  I have a couple stashed in our car, several at home, and one in my office.  (Somehow I still seem to get caught in the rain). After ruining two pairs of good shoes- even the pavement is muddy here- I've broken out my rain boots. If I don't wear them to work I at least bring them with me since the chances are good that I'll be needing them before my day is over.

Yes, the rain is a messy yet necessary inconvenience and it appears as though it is here to stay.  I'm already tiring of it and am looking forward to spring. I'm told that by April, the rains will stop and the sun will once again come out on a regular basis.  I know its too soon, but I'm already counting down the days.

Sometimes You Just Need to Get Away

That’s how I felt following the craziness that was our Thanksgiving week.  In looking at our schedules I realized that we actually had a “free” weekend before the Christmas rush began.  Instead of staying home we decided a quick weekend get away to Greece was in order.  (Actually, I decided that I needed to stock up on a few items from IKEA and the Ioannina, Greece store was the closest and easiest one to get to). 

Having left the hotel details up to Glenn, we piled into the car on Friday afternoon and headed south on a “new and improved” Albanian highway.  The weekend was a whirlwind but one of the highlights was our hotel (Grand Serai Congress & Spa )complete with a balconied suite, an unlimited supply of hot water with amazing water pressure in the shower, and a buffet filled with baklava and cheeses from all over Europe (no Albanian white cheese for me this weekend!).  Christmas decorations and music filled the lobby and helped me get into the holiday spirit. 

Exploring the ruins

We spent Saturday exploring Ioannina’s walled Citadel, shopping at IKEA, and just spending time as a family.  It was exactly what I needed to recharge my batteries.  Despite the economic crisis plaguing Greece, we saw little evidence of the country’s problems.  Families were out and about in the city and money was being spent.  We have been enjoying our time in Albania but we also relished the fact that the streets were free of litter, traffic laws were obeyed and we had “western” amenities at our disposal.  There are so many things that you take for granted until they aren't readily available.

Sunday we meandered our way back towards Tirana taking a slightly different route.  The topography of northern Greece is almost identical to that of southern Albania (after all, they do share a border and the actual border had been disputed for years) but it was immediately noticeable when we had left one country and entered into another (and I’m not just talking about having passed through Customs).  The roads on the Albanian side of the border were noticeably narrower and littered with trash.  Rows of old bunkers lined the hillsides with their observation holes pointed south towards Greece.  Policia Rruga (traffic police) were randomly (or so it seemed) pulling cars over and questioning the drivers.  Yes, we were definitely back in Albania and on our way home.

Yielding to the locals

Our homeward trek took us up the Ionian Coast through Saranda, Himare, and Vlore.  Quaint seaside villages hugged the craggy mountains.  Herds of sheep and goats grazed on the hills- and occasionally crossed our path.  The road was surprisingly well maintained but the hairpin turns and switchbacks made it slow going.    We stopped in Porto Palermo to visit Palermo Castle.  This well preserved castle sat on a beautiful  isthmus sporting views of both Corfu to the south and the Bay of Palermo to the north.  We spent time exploring  cavernous rooms and dark nooks that seemed like they belonged in a Nancy Drew mystery.  I think this castle has to be one of the best kept secrets in Albania.

By the time we arrived back in Tirana we were all simultaneously tired and rejuvenated.  We covered a lot of area in three short days and listened to more Christmas music than is healthy but it was worth it.  As much as I’m loving our life in Tirana it can get quite exhausting.  These quick get aways are  just the solution. So much so, that I’m planning our next one now.