Every culture has them-- stories and medicinal cure-alls that are passed down from one generation to the next. Each one seems to be more grandiose and outrageous than the next but the mysteries behind them are spoken as though they are gospel. I call these stories old wives tales.
I remember my own Polish Nana sharing her own tales. She'd hiss at my brother that he shouldn't cross his eyes otherwise they would "snap" and stay that way. When questioned she insisted it was true because when she was a child this happened to a boy in her block. She also warned of the perils of having a red headed child- they were the spawn of the devil (Nana did not live to meet my red-headed husband or my strawberry-blond son) and she insisted that a glass of wine every night cured and even prevented all possible ills. These were but a few of her beliefs.
As I got older I forgot about most of these stories- after all, one doesn't often hear tales from the old country when living in a cosmopolitan city. Two years ago when we started our Albanian language classes, these old wives tales came rushing back to the forefront of my thoughts.
It was late spring and Sidney had been spiking a raging fever for several days. The Children's Tylenol that had been prescribe by his pediatrician was helping in bringing down his temperature but once the dosage wore off, the fever was returning. My Albanian language instructor- a college educated woman who I considered my contemporary insisted that I soak his socks in vinegar then put them on his feet. She told me that this was the only way to break the fever. I was skeptical. After all, I didn't see the correlation between my son smelling like a pickle and his fever dissipating. I didn't take Manushaqe's advice and Sidney's fever disappeared and as I packed up our consumable goods for our overseas move I made sure I had plenty of pediatric medicine on hand.
Fast forward two years and we're now living in Albania. To date I've heard my share old wives tales for what some might deem holistic remedies for common ailments but I've been able to dismiss them. Our nanny regularly sips a tea that smells like a cross between wet dog and dirty feet but I stick to my teabags filled with peppermint leaves and green tea.
And then I got sick. Really sick. The cold, or as Albanians call it gripe, that had been making its way through the Embassy community, hit me hard. My OTC cold medicines imported from the United States did nothing to diminish the awful symptoms I was feeling. If anything, they just resurfaced in another form. I kept up a brave front and insisted to those who inquired that I was "me mire" or getting better. The people closest to me weren't convinced and offers for special teas started coming in.
As week one of being sick moved into week two, the number of Albanian cures that were sent my way increased. Each offer of tea promised to be better than the last. I steadfastly refused all of them since I couldn't get past the smell. A few people told me a shot of raki would do the trick but I dismissed those as jokes.
Yesterday, as I struggled to finish my work in the office before rushing home to cater an evening reception my Albanian office assistant told me I needed to drink Albanian punch, a concoction comprised of raki and sugar. I gave her a vague promise to think about it as I dashed out the door. At home our Albanian nanny suggested the same thing- she said I would be cured if I drank this potion. Or at least that's what I think she said since my foggy brain couldn't couldn't fully comprehend what she was saying to me in rapid-fire Albanian. The housekeeper- a woman two generations younger than my nanny- echoed the same suggestion. Albanian punch would make me feel better.
Later that evening, having struggled through preparing copious amounts of food I staggered back into the kitchen and finally succumbed to what I had been hearing for close to two weeks. Albanian punch would cure my ills. Under the watchful eye of my nanny I prepared the punch using the "right raki" (apparently most of the raki in the house was deemed unfit by her standards). I slowly simmered the raki and sugar combination then allowed it to cool to a drinkable temperature. Just before slipping into bed, and much to Glenn's amusement, I hesitantly sipped the concoction.
I admit, it wasn't bad. It certainly wasn't good but it wasn't nearly as bad as I had imagined. I think I cooked off most of the pungent alcohol and the sugar did temper the drink's bite. As I lay in bed I felt the good old raki burn penetrate through my chest and up into my sinuses. Somewhere along the line I fell into a deep sleep that was only disturbed by occasional night sweats (no one warned me of this but then again maybe they did and the language barrier kept me from fully understanding).
I awoke this morning feeling so much better. I had a healthy color on my face and a slight bounce in my steps. I'd like to think that after two plus weeks the cold had finally run its course and I was naturally on the mend. Maybe my OTC cold remedies were finally working their magic. Or I could give credit to the Albanian punch. Maybe old wives tales aren't so outlandish after all. Whatever the case, I won't be throwing out my Nyquil just yet. I might, however, keep a stash of raki close at hand.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Show Me the Money
One of my recent posts discussed the trials and tribulations of being a trailing spouse. In it I pondered the realities of giving up a career to follow my spouse around the world as he furthers his career. I wondered how, if ever, I would be able to reenter the workforce in a meaningful way and how I would be able to take my considerable experiences and market them in a society that attaches a concrete dollar value to work. I just may have found one of the answers to my question.
One of the blogs I regularly follow is that of Jane D'Arcy, who pens the On Parenting column in the Washington Post. I don't always agree with D'Arcy's point of view but her columns never fail to make me think about parenting, society, and life in a new light. For me, her February 2, 1012 column entitled A Homemaker's Real Salary spoke to the very heart of the trailing spouse issue and puts a starting dollar figure on what I am worth. At first glance the figures she presents look inflated but upon closer contemplation, I do believe they are fair. After all, I do perform all of these tasks and like a mailman, I do them through snow, sleet, and falling rain. I don't get sick days (as evidenced by the fact I am now on day 13 of my cold and I'm still plugging away) and vacations are actually more work than staying home.
I remember our financial planner urging us to take out additional life insurance on me since he claimed that the value of my contributions to the Brown house outweighed those of Glenn. I was skeptical but after reading D'Arcy's column, I am reconsidering my position. A part of me wants to shout to those cynics who poo-poo my homemaker status as not being real work. I have the urge to point out to them that if I was receiving a paycheck for my efforts, I'd probably be out earning them.
I'm going to resist- for the moment anyway. However, I just may have to ask Glenn for a raise.
One of the blogs I regularly follow is that of Jane D'Arcy, who pens the On Parenting column in the Washington Post. I don't always agree with D'Arcy's point of view but her columns never fail to make me think about parenting, society, and life in a new light. For me, her February 2, 1012 column entitled A Homemaker's Real Salary spoke to the very heart of the trailing spouse issue and puts a starting dollar figure on what I am worth. At first glance the figures she presents look inflated but upon closer contemplation, I do believe they are fair. After all, I do perform all of these tasks and like a mailman, I do them through snow, sleet, and falling rain. I don't get sick days (as evidenced by the fact I am now on day 13 of my cold and I'm still plugging away) and vacations are actually more work than staying home.
I remember our financial planner urging us to take out additional life insurance on me since he claimed that the value of my contributions to the Brown house outweighed those of Glenn. I was skeptical but after reading D'Arcy's column, I am reconsidering my position. A part of me wants to shout to those cynics who poo-poo my homemaker status as not being real work. I have the urge to point out to them that if I was receiving a paycheck for my efforts, I'd probably be out earning them.
I'm going to resist- for the moment anyway. However, I just may have to ask Glenn for a raise.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Winter in Tirana
Prior to moving to Albania all of my research told me that Tirana had a Mediterranean climate, namely hot dry summers and mild wet winters. While sweltering through June and July visions of mild winters filled my head. Hot summer days gave way to comfortable autumn weather that on some days, even reminded me of New England falls. When the calendar page turned to November and the "rainy season" that so many people talked about wasn't as bad as I had anticipated, I was pleasantly surprised. In my mind, the Albanian weather was turning out to be rather nice.
I may be from New England but that doesn't mean I like winter. Our Christmas sojourn to Slovenia was cold but I comforted myself by saying we had headed "north" and after all, it was Christmas. Upon our return to Tirana I was to be greeted by a mild Mediterranean winter. Or so I thought.
Not so. January, and now February, have been cold. Even Albanians are saying it is cold and this winter is proving to be colder than usual (For some reason, this phrase "colder than usual" seems to follow me wherever I go). Last Friday morning was so cold that our front gate froze shut. I know I have friends in The U.S., Russia, and northern Europe who are laughing at this right now. That's OK, go ahead and laugh because this New England girl laughed too when the 30 F temperatures were cited as the reason for the gate's malfunctioning.
Throughout the past few cold weeks, I've comforted myself with the idea that at least there wasn't snow. We can see snow in the mountains to the east of Tirana. Since early December snow has been gracing the silhouette of Mt. Dajti and the surrounding peaks. On colder days the snow line creeps lower and closer to the City but by midday it has receded back towards the peak. From afar, its pretty but perhaps I feel this way since I don't have to deal with it.
All of this started to change yesterday. Our bi-weekly staff meeting was abuzz with talk of snow and contingency plans for dealing with it. The northerners among us listened skeptically to the worry while those from south of the Mason-Dixon Line sounded excited at the prospect of a white blanket on the ground (I told them that once they have spent an entire season dealing with snow on a daily basis, they would rethink their enthusiasm about Mother Nature's cold fury. But I digress........).
As the day progressed the temperatures dropped and the air smelled increasingly like snow. By nightfall a wet mess was falling and when Glenn returned home he gleefully informed me that it was snowing. Sure enough a few large wet flakes were floating to the ground. Unlike the other two-thirds of the Brown household, I wasn't amused. I asked myself, "is this really Mediterranean weather?"
Fortunately, for me at least, the "snow" stopped and turned to a heavy blowing rain that fell throughout the night. Our drive to work was wet with rain and the nearby mountains were shrouded with low lying clouds. I was sure snow was falling somewhere behind the gray mass. By noon, when the clouds had lifted and the sun had come out, I could see the very low lying snow line on the mountains. For the first time this winter it dipped to the very outskirts of Tirana. Close, but still not in the city proper.
If yesterday was the only snow I will experience here in Albania I'll be happy. After all, it is so much more enjoyable to look at the snowy vistas from our balconies than it is to commute through it on Tirana's already treacherous sidewalks and roadways.
I may be from New England but that doesn't mean I like winter. Our Christmas sojourn to Slovenia was cold but I comforted myself by saying we had headed "north" and after all, it was Christmas. Upon our return to Tirana I was to be greeted by a mild Mediterranean winter. Or so I thought.
Not so. January, and now February, have been cold. Even Albanians are saying it is cold and this winter is proving to be colder than usual (For some reason, this phrase "colder than usual" seems to follow me wherever I go). Last Friday morning was so cold that our front gate froze shut. I know I have friends in The U.S., Russia, and northern Europe who are laughing at this right now. That's OK, go ahead and laugh because this New England girl laughed too when the 30 F temperatures were cited as the reason for the gate's malfunctioning.
Throughout the past few cold weeks, I've comforted myself with the idea that at least there wasn't snow. We can see snow in the mountains to the east of Tirana. Since early December snow has been gracing the silhouette of Mt. Dajti and the surrounding peaks. On colder days the snow line creeps lower and closer to the City but by midday it has receded back towards the peak. From afar, its pretty but perhaps I feel this way since I don't have to deal with it.
All of this started to change yesterday. Our bi-weekly staff meeting was abuzz with talk of snow and contingency plans for dealing with it. The northerners among us listened skeptically to the worry while those from south of the Mason-Dixon Line sounded excited at the prospect of a white blanket on the ground (I told them that once they have spent an entire season dealing with snow on a daily basis, they would rethink their enthusiasm about Mother Nature's cold fury. But I digress........).
As the day progressed the temperatures dropped and the air smelled increasingly like snow. By nightfall a wet mess was falling and when Glenn returned home he gleefully informed me that it was snowing. Sure enough a few large wet flakes were floating to the ground. Unlike the other two-thirds of the Brown household, I wasn't amused. I asked myself, "is this really Mediterranean weather?"
Fortunately, for me at least, the "snow" stopped and turned to a heavy blowing rain that fell throughout the night. Our drive to work was wet with rain and the nearby mountains were shrouded with low lying clouds. I was sure snow was falling somewhere behind the gray mass. By noon, when the clouds had lifted and the sun had come out, I could see the very low lying snow line on the mountains. For the first time this winter it dipped to the very outskirts of Tirana. Close, but still not in the city proper.
If yesterday was the only snow I will experience here in Albania I'll be happy. After all, it is so much more enjoyable to look at the snowy vistas from our balconies than it is to commute through it on Tirana's already treacherous sidewalks and roadways.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Update From A Slacker
I've been slacking on all fronts lately. Slacking in my parenting: isn't it ok for Sidney to have chips before dinner (after all, they are oregano flavored), slacking in my cooking: dinners have been from the freezer or a box more often than not as of late, slacking in keeping up with friends: I blame the time difference but what about those who are in the same city, and slacking on my blogging: enough said.
I started out 2012 (yes, a short 31 days ago) with the best of intentions. Dinners were going to be timely affairs with all of us sitting at the table together. More often than not, they are served late, hence Sidney's chip eating. We were going to have home cooked meals on a nightly basis and I would try a minimum of two new recipes a week. This was to justify the numerous cooking magazines that clog our mailbox. Year to date, I've tried exactly one and even that was met with mixed results.
In 2012 I planned to Skype with friends and family, respond to email and Facebook messages as I received them, and get together with my Albanian based girlfriends on a regular basis. I apologize to friends who are still waiting for return emails and to our families whose Skype sessions have been cancelled (or gasp forgotten). Today, on the last day of the month I finally managed to have lunch with a friend. I loved every minute of it and am now kicking myself for not getting my act together sooner to do this more often. After all, it is our friends that sustain us.
I've made a few blog posts this year but not the regular, though provoking ones I had hoped to write. Instead I'm complaining about my slacking.
I could make excuses but I don't really have any. Yes, its cold and gray but it is every January and I have always managed to be more productive in past years. I'm working this year but I've worked more hours in the past and still managed to feed my family well. I don't know why this year is different but it is.
So on the eve of February- a short month after all- I vow to shed my slacking habit and be more productive. I'm going to strive to have one thought provoking blog entry each week, I'm going to actually return all of those emails that fill my inbox and I'm going to cook nutritious dinners and have them on the table by 1900 each evening. There, I've written it down for the world to see so I must follow though.
With that, I had been go start working on dinner.
I started out 2012 (yes, a short 31 days ago) with the best of intentions. Dinners were going to be timely affairs with all of us sitting at the table together. More often than not, they are served late, hence Sidney's chip eating. We were going to have home cooked meals on a nightly basis and I would try a minimum of two new recipes a week. This was to justify the numerous cooking magazines that clog our mailbox. Year to date, I've tried exactly one and even that was met with mixed results.
In 2012 I planned to Skype with friends and family, respond to email and Facebook messages as I received them, and get together with my Albanian based girlfriends on a regular basis. I apologize to friends who are still waiting for return emails and to our families whose Skype sessions have been cancelled (or gasp forgotten). Today, on the last day of the month I finally managed to have lunch with a friend. I loved every minute of it and am now kicking myself for not getting my act together sooner to do this more often. After all, it is our friends that sustain us.
I've made a few blog posts this year but not the regular, though provoking ones I had hoped to write. Instead I'm complaining about my slacking.
I could make excuses but I don't really have any. Yes, its cold and gray but it is every January and I have always managed to be more productive in past years. I'm working this year but I've worked more hours in the past and still managed to feed my family well. I don't know why this year is different but it is.
So on the eve of February- a short month after all- I vow to shed my slacking habit and be more productive. I'm going to strive to have one thought provoking blog entry each week, I'm going to actually return all of those emails that fill my inbox and I'm going to cook nutritious dinners and have them on the table by 1900 each evening. There, I've written it down for the world to see so I must follow though.
With that, I had been go start working on dinner.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Trials Of A Trailing Spouse
Trailing spouse. That is the quaint term bantered about within the State Department and DOD when referencing those of us who follow our better halves from one job posting to another. Sometimes these moves are from state to state while other times they are international moves. Regardless of the locations, the general logistics are the same. The trailing spouse sacrifices their own career to ensure that household goods, medical records, and the family pet make it from one location to another. We make sure the new house is set up and the children are enrolled in new schools. We find the new doctors, grocery stores, and playgrounds. We make sure things run smoothly at home while our spouses are at work. You get the idea.
Did I ever imagine that I would join these ranks? Heck no! I worked hard on my undergraduate degree, graduated, and worked my way up in a career field, that while not what I had pictured myself doing, was fulfilling. I went back to graduate school with the hopes of giving myself an additional step up in my career.
And then I met Glenn. Ah, the things we do for love. I lived and worked in Massachusetts and he was in Virginia. I had more flexibility in my job- being in the Navy does not provide any flexibility!- so I was the one to quit my job. My friends thought I was crazy; my family thought I was crazy; heck there were a few times that I also suspected I really was crazy. I did it anyway and I can honestly say that I don’t regret it. However, as an educated, independent woman, I thought I knew what I was getting into. But alas, perception and all the research in the world does not equate into reality.
With each move, I’ve been able to find a job. I count myself lucky in this respect since so many Americans are currently unemployed. Ironically, with each new job I find myself with fewer “professional” responsibilities and a corresponding reduction in pay. A recent peak at my paycheck showed me that I am making less money now than I did during my summer breaks in college. Yes, I am now employed and I have a job outside of the home, but it is by no means a career.
A few facts about us trailing spouses. Despite the common perception, we are well educated. Among my “trailing” friends, the majority of us have advanced degrees and most of us have attained more formal education then our spouses. The majority of us did have careers are one time. We are independent- we manage 6-12 month separations from our spouses and keep the home fires burning. We are adaptable and flexible- maybe not by choice- but regular moves, ever changing orders and unpredictable work schedules require us to be. We can quickly turn strangers into friends. Moving to a new location at regular intervals requires us to get to know our surroundings and make new friends (it’s a lonely life if you can’t manage to do this).
AFN has recently begun airing a new infomercial that lauds the skills of trailing spouses. They don't call us this but we are the audience they are targeting. The very skills I mentioned above are the ones this infomercial points out as making us more marketable in the job force. An all too cheery voice tells us that employers want us and we too can have meaningful careers when we return stateside.
Yes, we have the afore mentioned skills but how do we translate them onto a resume and more importantly into an interview? Flexibility, ability to multitask, independent thinker are all key catch phrases but under what title do we label our job? “Move Coordinator”, “CEO of the Home”, or “Organizer in Chief”?
These are but a few of the thoughts I have been pondering as of late. How will I be able to find a meaningful job, or gasp, a career, when we return to the United States? What will my resume say about me and my experiences? I don't know. But if any of you are looking to hire an organized yet flexible, dedicated, multi-tasking military spouse, please give me a call.
These are but a few of the thoughts I have been pondering as of late. How will I be able to find a meaningful job, or gasp, a career, when we return to the United States? What will my resume say about me and my experiences? I don't know. But if any of you are looking to hire an organized yet flexible, dedicated, multi-tasking military spouse, please give me a call.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
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.
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.
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.
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| Sampling the water at the Trevi Fountain |
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.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Ushering in 2012 With A Big Bang
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| The view from our third floor balcony |
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.
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!
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