(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: One Of My Favorite Albanian Scenes

As I wind down to my final few weeks in Albania, I've been revisiting some of my favorite pictures from our time here.

And here is one of them:

Thethi

The End Of The Reign Of The Pasha

Pasha:  Originating from the Ottoman and Turkish Empires denoting a high rank traditionally given to governors, generals and other dignitaries.  The title could be hereditary or non-hereditary, was commonly associated with military commanders and was regularly bestowed upon those whose favor the court wanted to curry.  Some have compared the title to that of the British lord.  Because the title was solely a part of the male dominated hierarchy,  a pasha's wife was entitled to no special title or rank.

In Albanian, the word is often used to refer to male royalty, either real or perceived.  In a society that still views men of all ages as dominant, the use of the word is quite fitting.

Our nanny likes to refer to Sidney as a little pasha.  I kid you not.  A little pasha as in a boy who can do no wrong; whose every whim and desire must be catered to.  It doesn't matter whether or not he can do things for himself or in fact does them himself when he is alone with us; if she is with him she insists on doing it for him.  From getting him a snack to picking up his toys and dressing himself, she does nothing to encourage Sidney to be independent and instead does these simple tasks for him.  Toilet training proved to be a particular problem.  All it took was a simple refusal from Sidney and back into his diapers he went.  The moment that made me snap however, was an evening last month when I walked in the door to find Sidney reclining on the sofa, head and feet propped up on pillows, with his nanny sitting on the floor below him. She was feeding him bits of food from a fork.  When he saw me, Sidney proudly told me that they were "playing pasha" then proceeded to ignore me while holding his mouth open for another bite.  Speechless, I turned and walked out of the room.

I actually really like our nanny and in many respects she has been a godsend to us over the past two and half years.  She has been flexible beyond belief in her time, has taught Sidney to speak fluently in Albanian, and I can say without a doubt she loves Sidney as if he is her own grandchild.   However, it is her adoration and love for him that in many respects, has made our job of being responsible parents all the more difficult.  Parenting is both a generational and cultural issue not just here in Albania but around the world.  In our nanny's defense, she is a product of both a culture and a generation who really do believe boys (and men) can do no wrong.  I've seen it in the way she waits on and is in turn, treated by her own husband.  She raised two boys and the stories she tells me make me both cringe and wonder how they function as independent adults.  (Although as an adult, one is still single and lives at home with her so that in itself might answer my question....).  She knows that we have hard limits where Sidney is concerned; safety is first and foremost with helmets being worn on the bicycle and scooter, no riding in cars without being securely fastened, and after we came upon a neighborhood game of cops and robbers, no toy guns or anything that resembles them.  She gets this and I feel respects these expectations.  But these other culturally ingrained behaviors have been a battle we just haven't been able to win.

But all of this is rapidly coming to an end.  Had I walked into the "playing pasha" scene months ago, we would have seriously considered letting her go.  After all, this game is indicative of everything we don't believe in and behavior we don't want to model as parents.  I'll admit, being so close to our departure from Albania I chose the easy way out and am just biding my time.  But things will certainly be changing in household Brown.  We often spend weekends undoing the pasha like expectations that Sidney lived by during the week.  He will test us but after many tears and much testing, he understands that this behavior isn't condoned by his parents.  As painful as I know it will be for everyone involved, Sidney's new daily reality will involve no playing pasha, being treated by a pasha or being waited on hand and foot.

We've already introduced the idea of chores and the expectation that we all contribute to the running of the household once we settle into our new home.  Recently we developed a star rating system where each evening Sidney (with our assistance) rates his behavior on a five star scale and we jointly discuss the merits of each star he may or may not have earned.  Sidney is slowly making the connection between good behavior and more stars and has gone as far as telling me that he wants to have a five star day but sometimes it is just too hard.  To me, that is progress and makes me incredibly hopeful.  But I am under no delusion that all of this will be easy.  The fact that we will be in an environment that encourages independence and self sufficiency amongst even the youngest of citizens will hopefully make this process easier.  I know we will have some embarrassing scenes (how long can we blame his Albanian upbringing for the bad behavior?) but we will persevere.  The reign of the pasha is officially over but with it behind us this Mamma might enjoy playing queen for a day.

Lost In Transit

Mail.  As funny as it sounds some of my earliest memories involve receiving mail.  As a child I remember the excitement of walking to the mailbox, standing on my tippy toes and reaching inside to retrieve the envelopes inside.  Granted, at that age there was rarely anything addressed to me, but that didn't matter.  My senior year in high school I would stalk the mail man waiting for the arrival of my college acceptance letter.  Then during my college years mail evolved into something coveted by the entire campus.  Ironically my designated mailbox in the basement of the student center was on the very top of the stack meaning I still had to stand on my toes to see inside.  But spotting a yellow card stock slip inside, the sign that not only did I have envelopes, but I had actual packages, was beyond exciting.

Fast forward a few decades and living overseas the twice weekly arrival of mail is beyond exciting.  My mailbox is still on the very top of the stack, viewable only when I am wearing high heels, and is more apt to be filled with bills than personal correspondence, but that doesn't matter.  Sometimes there are magazines and other glimpses of home.  The much anticipated email sent out to the embassy community announcing who has received packages immediately initiates a flow of traffic to the mailroom similar to ants following a line of crumbs.  For many of us, online shopping is our lifeline to our American world since everything from FDA approved medicines and favorite foods to Christmas presents and items that are impossible to find in Albania arrives via mail.

Because all of our mail arrives through the Embassy, we are able to have a U.S. based mailing address where we can receive not only items shipped through the postal service but also via FedEx and UPS.  Although there are strict requirements as to the content, size, and shape of what can be sent, the world is literally at our virtual fingertips.  Items arrive at our northern Virginia address within days of being ordered before they begin their slow and often unpredictable transit across the Atlantic.  Because of this, I've become even more of a planner than ever.  Medicines are reordered months before I run out and Christmas has been shopped for before the end of September.  Sometimes it only takes a matter of days for packages to arrive and other times it can be weeks, or as has been the case at least once a year since we arrived, months.  And then there are the times when packages simply don't arrive.

I guess I have been lucky since this has only happened to me twice over the course of the past two and half years.  And given the frequency of which I shop, my batting average is pretty darn good.  But all of the good odds in the world don't matter when a much coveted item never appears.  My first no-show item was a new Ann Taylor dress, ordered in mid-March with the intent of wearing it for a reception in mid-May. It was a splurge but I clicked "order" and anxiously awaited its arrival.  And I waited.  March became April which eventually became May and still no dress.  Ann Taylor claims the package was delivered to my mailing address but ten months later I have yet to receive it.  I've all but given up on it but have been assured that should it arrive after we have departed Albania, it will be forwarded to our new address.  And that would mean a package in my mailbox, right?

My second disappearing package was more recent and a lot less costly.  In October I carefully counted out our remaining number of Splenda packets and calculated how many we would need to see us through until our move.  Wanting free shipping, I also bought two tubes of our favorite American branded toothpaste and hit the order button.  Once again, the order went through and was delivered to our address but has yet to appear here in Albania.  It is by no means the end of the world; as of last week we've taken to using plain old white sugar in our coffee and I bought a tube of Greek produced toothpaste in a local grocery store.  Once again I've been told that should this box arrive after we depart in a few weeks it will also be forwarded on to us.  At that point it will be sort of moot since Splenda and American toothpaste will be readily available to us.  But should it show up, I'm sure I'll be unnecessarily excited because I will once again have another package.  Some things really don't change.... (although this time around I am hoping for a mailbox at a lower level).

A Visit To Italy's Dying City

Civita di Bagnoregio perched atop the hill

Every time I visit Italy fall in love with the country even more.  Our most recent jaunt across the Adriatic took us to the Viterbo region.  Located north of Rome, the little piece of Italy is as beautiful as the rest of the country.  Because we were visiting friends who are lucky enough to call Viterbo home, we had the opportunity to see towns that are often missed by passing travelers in their rush to get from Florence and Rome.  We saw many beautiful places during our short tip (those will be topics for future blog entries) but my favorite place by far was the hilltop village of Civita di Bagnoregio.

Fog lifting over the Tiber River valley; this wouldn't be a bad
view to wake up to each morning

Called Italy's "dying city" due to its precarious location atop a plateau overlooking the Tiber River valley, this ancient Etruscan city dates back twenty five hundred years and was the birthplace of Saint Bonaventure who died in 1274.  Once a thriving community, extensive erosion of the clay earth, coupled by major earthquakes, helped hasten its decline to a shadow of its former self by the 17th century.  Today, Civita di Bagnoregio is essentially an island set off by itself, only accessible by a narrow, reinforced pathway.  This "island" is getting smaller as, despite ongoing countermeasures to prevent further erosion, buildings perched on the outer edges of the city are crumbling and falling into the valley below.  In 2006 it was listed on the World Monuments Fund's list of the 100 Most Endangered Sites because of the ongoing erosion.

Today only a handful of people call Civita di Bagnoregio home.  One census claims that there are 12 year around residents with the population "booming" to 100 in the summer.  Bed and breakfasts and cafes fill the remarkably well preserved structures that remain within the walls.  Because the village is a pedestrian only zone--even if vehicles could enter the walls, the narrow lanes would prohibit their movement---everything that can't be hand carried is driven in by golf carts and all visitors must walk up the long and narrow approach to reach the inner walls.  The day we visited there were few tourists and locals were busy staging the entire village for a live nativity scene.  Coupled with the lifting fog, the village felt as though it was trapped in time and it was the epitome of everything I think of when I dream about an Italian village.  We wandered the narrow lanes just taking it all in and marveling at the beauty.  In one shop we saw pictures of Civita di Bagnoreio through the ages starting when it was a part of the surrounding hillside towns to the isolated peninsula it is today.  The visible changes were obvious only driving home the notion that the village is literally falling off of the cliff.  Sidney was particularly entranced with the well fed and friendly (unless you were a dog) village cats that roamed freely.  I loved the hidden and meticulously maintained stairways and doorways leading into the buildings.  Despite it being late December, clay flowerpots overflowed with brightly colored blooming plants and vines.

Civita di Bagnoregio is one of the most beautiful and enchanting places I have ever visited and the thought that after thousands of years it may cease to exist, saddens me.  I feel fortunate that I was able to visit and definitely want to return.  As much as I fantasize about buying my own little piece of Italian real estate however, this is probably not the best place to invest.  But returning, and perhaps even spending the night in one of the small bed and breakfasts?  Now that sounds like the perfect Italian vacation.

A house with a view--for the moment anyway

Along the crumbling outer wall looking back into the village

Recycling: The Albanian Way

Albanians are alternatively and simultaneously the biggest environmentalists and biggest degraders of the environment.  How can they be both you ask?  I often wonder how this is even possible and the only explanation I can reach is that, like so many other aspects of Albanian society, activities are done in silos with little communication, coordination or thought about how one's actions may affect others or even themselves at a later time.  Let me explain......

Although I have been told that the conditions have improved in recent years, one only has to look at a roadside, stream bed or even the road itself to see the piles of trash that are strewn everywhere.  I first noticed this on our jet lagged drive from the airport to our new home in Tirana.  As we crossed what I thought was a river I gazed out the window and looked down expecting to see water. Instead I was greeted by the most disheartening sight of piles of trash, debris, and litter clogging what I can only imagine had, at one time, been a free flowing body of water.  This sight was repeated again and again, whether peering over the wall of the fortress in the UNESCO city of Berat, walking along the shores of the Adriatic, driving through remote villages and even hiking along nature trails.  (Really people?  Effort was obviously made to get the trash to such an isolated location but I guess out of one's personal sight is out of mind).  Not a day goes by when I don't see trash--both household or convenience or construction debris-- being thrown out a passing car window or swept out of a yard and into the street.  (My neighbors are really good at doing this).  And it has been with much chagrin that I've watched an ongoing road construction project in our neighborhood. No sooner have the construction workers graded the surface to lay asphalt than someone dumps trash bags and construction debris on top of the recently smoothed surface. Even when there is a dumpster available, trash is often dumped next to it rather inside.  Trash is literally everywhere and since no one seems to care the situation is only getting worse.

Then who are the environmentalists in Albania?  Yes, there is the small but growing number of western minded Albanians who are organizing and encouraging their fellow patriots to act responsibly and clean up their environment.  In recent years the US Embassy has been working with local non-governmental organizations to take a stand and make the environment a priority.  The idea seems to be slowly catching on and momentum is gradually growing.  School children and the next generation are beginning to get involved so I am hopeful that a cleaner Albania will exist one day.  But at the moment, in many respects, the true environmentalists are the very same people who are discarding trash on the side of the road.

Albanians are the original recyclers.  Whether it be plastic grocery bags (the very same ones that clog the country's waterways), furniture, or old appliances, these items get used and reused until they literally fall apart.  (Unfortunately, at this point, they just get discarded in a most un-environmentally friendly way).  Whether it be my housekeeper at home or the char ladies at the embassy, things I throw in the trash are continually being pulled out and placed on the counter or my desk because the are "still good".  A toy car with two wheels missing?  In my mind that goes in the trash but the car in question kept finding its way back into the playroom until I finally buried it in the bottom of a bag and hauled it to the dumpster myself.  At work, I once had to throw away a dried out bottle of white-out three times before finally taking it home and getting rid of it there.  The cleaning lady kept insisting it was still usable and I repeatedly found it placed back on my desk each morning.  The same goes for dried out markers, coffee missing their handles, and even cardboard boxes.  But some of the recycling is indeed practical.  The Roma here in Albania are infamous for digging through dumpsters and salvaging anything and everything.  Single shoes, scrap metal, rags, and empty bottles are all ripe for the taking.  Small appliances, even those that operate on the wrong wattage for Europe, are treasure troves for avid recyclers.  All of these items have uses to this community and are (at least initially) recycled.   Some people argue that dumpster diving by the Roma is what causes the majority of the trash problem.  I'm sure it contributes to the problem but it is in no way the major cause since the items they salvage are reused and recycled.

But Roma aren't the only dumpster divers.  My very own neighbors, the same ones who drive their polished Mercedes and think nothing of sweeping their trash onto the street, are quick to pick through the small dumpster in front of our house.  Because I know that anything I put out there will quickly be scooped up, I've taken to placing most items I no longer need--wearable but no longer needed clothing, old electronics, chipped dishes, etc on the curb and letting people take what they want.  And things disappear quickly.  Yesterday, in a fit of pre-move purging, we placed armfuls of items on the curb.  Within minutes--literally the time it took for me to walk back inside to return with more things-- they were scooped up.  Even the broken tiki torches and the case of long expired fruit juice disappeared in mere seconds.  This, my friends, is recycling in its purest form.  Now if only there was a way to get these very same people to not drop their cigarette butts and empty candy wrappers on the ground.

In A Pressure Cooker

Ah, 2014.  Its a new year and one filled with a lot of changes coming our way.  In just twenty-one short days (gulp) we will be on an airplane heading to the new country that will become our home for the next three years.  But before we board that plane, we have a lot of loose ends that need to be tied up.   There is the house to pack, goodbyes to be said, and final events to attend--both as hosts and as guests.  (And yes because we believe in doing things right up until the last minute, we're even hosting one final formal dinner in our house.  Call us committed or crazy--you decide).  Yes, this is an exciting yet overwhelming time.

My biggest concern at the moment is explaining all of these changes to an inquisitive and uber aware four year old.  We've been discussing the impending move with him for some time and some days he's on board and others not so much.  He's been a part of the purging process, selecting much loved but no longer played with toys to donate to those who are less fortunate.  He's talked about making new friends in Belgium and wanting to have those yet to be made friends over to his house to play.  But that is on the good days.  On others, his watching items go into boxes has elicited protests of not wanting to move, the desire to stay here and live with his nanny, and essentially maintaining the Albanian status quo.  Add in this week's school physical, vaccinations and the mere prospect of going to school and we have one unhappy little boy.  Using logic only a four year old can comprehend, he isn't crying or throwing tantrums about all of this; rather he is firmly stating that he doesn't want to go, adding in a please and thank you for good measure, and offering alternatives (i.e. his staying with his nanny).  There are moments when I think illogical crying would be easier to address.  Obviously the emotional aspects of this move are going to be anything but easy.  Can you say pressure?  Well, I can.

And this is why I had to laugh when I saw the theme for this month's Blogher NaBloPoMo challenge.  Yes, the theme is "pressure" and personally, the timing just couldn't be more appropriate.  The list of daily writing prompts range from personal experiences with peer pressure and working under pressure to whether pressure is positive, negative, or both.  My favorite prompt is the one discussing self-created pressure due to one's own procrastination.  So why am I even committing to daily blogging when the next month has set itself up to be pure chaos?

Perhaps I am just putting undue pressure on myself.  I mean why I am trying to do this when I will be in the midst of packing, traveling, and settling in.  But then I answer my own question by realizing that it is my own self imposed procrastination technique.  More so, I've learned that writing is my emotional outlet allowing me to simultaneously ponder, vent, and most importantly, have a few minutes of true me-time each day.  January's entries are apt to be brief and even disjointed but in all likelihood, they will be what gets me through the next few weeks.  If nothing else, my entries this month can serve as a reminder of this exciting, busy, and frustrating time for us.  Maybe they can be a type of lessons learned diary.  I just need to remember to revisit them in three years when we do this all over again.

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: One Of My Favorite Albanian Scenes

As I wind down to my final few weeks in Albania, I've been revisiting some of my favorite pictures from our time here.

And here are two of them:

An old grist mill on the Valbona River

Looking up the Valbona River