Wordless Wednesday: Baa, Baa White Sheep, Have You Any Grass

Wordless Wednesday: Shelter

Wordless Wednesday: Sunset Over The Ionian

Wordless Wednesday: Summer Dreaming

The Venetian Masks Of Shkoder

I was recently digging through old pictures from our time in Albania and was reminded of a surprising place that while I posted pictures of, I never blogged about in detail at the time. So there is no better time than now to write about the Venetian masks that are made in the city of Shkoder, Albania. (Yes, you read that correctly, there really is a mask factory in Albania and it is pretty darn neat).

I've always been fascinated by the intricate details and bright colors of Venetian masks and while we were in Albania, I had the opportunity to see them being made. And like so many places in Albania, what you see on the outside can be so deceiving about what is hidden behind the walls.

Tucked away on a back road in a warehouse off of the main road in Shkoder sits the Venetian Arts Mask Factory. A small shop sits below the factory--which in reality is more like a large open warehouse--itself. The upper floor consists of an expansive space with individual work stations spread throughout the light filled room. This is where each mask is carefully crafted by hand. Tables are filled with colorful bobbles, feathers and beads waiting to be affixed to masks. No detail is too small as the masks are first hand painted with a brightly colored base coat then set out to dry. Next other colors were added to the base with the fine details being painted freehand-- making each mask a truly unique piece of art. Later in the process pieces of glitter and beading are individually placed on the masks. It was such fun to watch a simple mask be transformed into something special and unique. The entire process of creating a mask takes days so it is no wonder that they are so treasured and expensive when purchased in Venetian markets. By coming to the source you can not only see how they are produced but can purchase your own mask at a greatly reduced price.

Once the tour was complete we returned downstairs to browse through the masks that were available to purchase. The options were unlimited and I debated for quite some time before choosing one. I have yet to wear mine to a masquerade but when the opportunity arises, I will be ready. In the meantime my mask sits on a mantle as a fond memory of our time in Albania.

So when you visit, bring cash and take your time picking out a mask or two. There are so many options that it is hard to pick just one.

If you go:

Venetian Arts Mask Factory
Rrugga Lin Delia
Shkoder, Albania
+355 68 204 72 91
edmondangoni@gmail.com
Open daily 09.00-16.00, closed Sundays

Wordless Wednesday: A Boat Afloat

Wordless Wednesday: Rooms With Views

The view from our bedroom in Albania

and the view from our Belgian bedroom

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: Summer!

In anticipation of the sunny days ahead, today is two pictures for the price of one!

Awash In A Sea Of Belgian Black, Yellow & Red

Maybe I'm missing the patriotic gene (and I don't think so) but I've never felt compelled to wrap myself in the American flag. I've also never felt the need to wear the flag as an accessory (which according to Congressional law is actually a violation of flag etiquette) nor have I draped the flag over my car and driven down the streets. Call me boring but the closest I've come has been to hang an American flag in front of our house(s) in America. But apparently I am in the minority here.

When we were in Albania I thought the locals were a bit crazy in their love for everything red and black and Albanian flag related. And during their centennial celebration for independence, it felt as though every inch of the country was draped in the ubiquitous red and black double headed eagle flags. It was simply over the top. Prior to that time it had never even dawned on me that someone would shrink wrap their car or a high rise building (or the Parliament building for that matter) in their national flag but apparently not doing so in Albania was the exception rather than the rule. And I quickly lost count of the number of cars speeding down the streets streaming large flags in their wake and the number of young men hanging out the windows and sunroofs waving the said flags. You needed to see pictures of it all to believe it and I honestly thought I'd never see anything like it again. But then we moved to Belgium and the race for the World Cup kicked off.......

I was aware of the hype leading up to the Belgian Red Devil's initial game against Algeria. What I hadn't expected was the crazed antics of the fans. The game was broadcast on large screens in a public square here in Mons but for a variety of reasons we didn't plan on attending. We did have the game playing on the television at home and watched it in bits and spurts as we went about our normal evening routine. But even without watching we knew the minute the game was over with Belgium coming out as the victors. The sound of horns and screaming immediately filled the air and within minutes of the game's finale our narrow one-way street was filled with speeding cars draped in Belgian flags careening by. I had unknowingly chosen this exact moment to go for a post-dinner walk through the neighborhood and was quickly swept up into the wave of crowds that were moving through the streets and screaming with excitement. Black, yellow and red was everywhere from leis and wigs to flags, face and body paint,  banners, clothing (including a rather tiny bikini worn by a big bellied man). And it wasn't just the "young" people who were partaking in the celebrations; everyone from babies to the elderly was in on the action. And because this is Belgium I imagine that most of these actions were fueled by a wee bit of beer. As relative newcomers to the country the celebrations were both amazing and a bit scary.

The celebrations lasted well into the night. The next  morning Sidney informed me that, the night before, he had stood at his bedroom window and watched "cars and Belgian flags and people hanging out of cars drive by over and over". (He also informed me that people weren't wearing their seat belts and their Mommas would be angry that they were hanging out of the windows because it is dangerous). And sadly enough, he wasn't kidding. I was practically side swiped on the sidewalk in front of our house when a young woman draped in a Belgian flag flung herself out the window as the car sped by. The parade of Belgian pride lasted into the wee hours of the morning. But this was just Belgium's first game in the lead up to the actual World Cup finale. At a minimum they have at least two more games to play but because of their win the other night, it is probably more. I'm not sure I even want to contemplate what future wins will mean in terms of celebrations.

So I suppose that given the time and my environment, my only option is to.........

 minus the black, yellow and red flags of course.

It's All Relative

Where you sit depends upon where you stand. What one person loves the next person despises. Some people would do anything to have one opportunity while others couldn't be paid enough to endure the same experience. Do you ever read an online review and wonder why the same product, hotel, or restaurant can receive both rave reviews and abysmal pans? It is what makes us as humans unique. There is really something for everyone out there. And it helps explain why what turns one person on turns off the next.

A recent conversation with another American here in Mons made me realize how true this all is. She was asking me how we were liking Belgium so far and when I told her that we were really enjoying being here, she expressed surprised since so many Americans have a hard time adjusting to life in Belgium and generally, the Belgian way of doing things. Now, I'm not saying things have been all smooth going since we arrived, but I assured her that compared to where we had been, life here was pretty darn nice. Prior to arriving here we had been warned that living in Belgium was simply a different experience- the roads aren't great, people can be persnickety, customer service leaves a lot to be desired, and the pace of life is simply slower than what Americans are accustomed to. I can see how many Americans might feel this way, particularly those who are transferring directly from neighboring Germany, but for us, after spending several years in Albania, none of these things bother me in the least.

Take the roads; here the roads are narrow and have their share of potholes but even the narrowest of dirt or cobblestone roads are better maintained than most portions of the main highways in Albania. And there are fully functional streetlights along every road. They might not be as bright or even strategically placed as they are in the United States but just having lights is in complete contrast to Albanian roadways. And Belgian drivers? They are aggressive but law abiding when it comes to stopping, staying in one's own lane, and parking. And in Albania........not so much. No, you won't hear me complaining about any of those things here. But many Americans do complain about the roads. And the drivers. And any of a myriad of other quality of life issues. Then again, I complained about many of these very same things in Albania while others there had no such concerns about the very same issues.

And then again I wonder how much I will complain about these same things once we are back in the United States. Will the conformity and rules of American suburbs drive me crazy or will I welcome their order? Will I relish the strip malls and shopping centers after years of shopping in often inaccessible neighborhood markets? Will I speed down the wide open highways with abandon or miss the narrow winding Belgian roads? These are the very same things that I loved when we were living in the United States. The one thing I know is I will approach it all through a different perspective than before. A perspective which will likely be different than those around me. I might love it or hate it but at the end of the day it will all be relative.

Avash, Avash

Avash, avash. It was a phrase we both heard and used regularly in Albania. Loosely translated it means "slowly" or "little by little". As in "Sidney, slow down." Or "in good time, don't rush things". I used to joke that it was simply a way of explaining Albanian time; meaning things would happen when they happened and they shouldn't and couldn't be rushed. As someone who tends to operate on full-speed-ahead mode, it took me awhile to learn to accept the inevitable; i.e. things would happen when they happened and not a moment sooner. They could not or would not be rushed. But eventually I like to think I did accept this way of doing business. Or at least I thought I did because upon moving to Belgium, I've discovered a whole new meaning to "avash, avash" and I can't say I'm crazy about it.

We had been warned that things can take awhile in Belgium; phone and Internet service can take weeks to be set up while the simple act of registering your car and receiving your Belgian license plates can take even longer. But, we had also been told that since we had transferred here during the off season, things would move along faster than usual. We spent most of our first business day in Belgium taking numbers and standing in line waiting to get things accomplished. But in reality, by the end of the day we had yet to accomplish anything. Instead we had shuffled from one office to another only to find out that we had the wrong paperwork, were missing necessary information, or that desks were simply empty with their occupants no where to be found. On our second day we accomplished a bit more but learned two important pieces of information; first, Belgian lunch hours were not to be interfered with. At one office we were sternly told that the lunch break began promptly at 13.00 but if we showed up five minutes before then we would be sent away. Second, none of the above tasks we had been trying to accomplish could be completed until we had a permanent address (i.e. we had a signed lease and house to move into). If only someone had told us this from the get go but apparently passing along that information wasn't in anyone's job description. Needless to say, our first couple of days were truly frustrating and it was during this time that I recalled the "avash, avash" phrase. So I changed my mindset. On our third day I only set one goal for myself and low and behold, I achieved it. Never mind that it had really taken three days to do so but it finally happened. Perhaps we were making progress? And the next day? After viewing four prospective houses on our house hunt in one day I felt as though we were on a roll. But then my Belgian reality came crashing back and our progress slowed considerably.

This past week, our second full one in Belgium, has been more of the same. It has been two steps forward and one step back. We finally have our hands on the correct paperwork and an office isn't open for another two days. We arrive at a scheduled appointment only to find a walk in client already there monopolizing the only clerk's time. For the third time we were told that no one really knows where our household goods shipped three weeks ago from Albania are but they will "get back to us when they know something". Obtaining a simple signature on a document becomes anything but. Despite having an appointment (which I'm beginning to realize is simply a term that makes Americans feel good), it took days to receive it.

Remember, we are transferring here during the slow season. So I can only imagine how slowly things must move during the busy summer transfer season when most of Europe is "on holiday". I guess I should just appreciate the relative speed by which we have accomplished things so far. And if no one else is in a hurry or worried about deadlines, then I'm (going to try) not to worry either.

Avash, avash.

Dorothy, We're Not In Kansas Any More

Or in our case the Mediterranean, specifically Albania-the land where anything and everything goes. We are in Belgium, attached to an international military command where rules and regulations are enforced. In many respects returning to a military community is like coming home for us but it isn't until you find yourself back in such an environment that you realize just how loosey-goosey things were where you came from. (And this isn't bad, I rather like it. But because it is different, it is simply an adjustment).

And the differences between the way things were and the way things currently are, are everywhere--at least to us. To begin with, lets talk weather. The Mediterranean climate which we had grown accustomed to was hot, sunny, and dusty in the summer and temperate, damp, and muddy in the winter. Here in Belgium the weather is essentially the same all year around- cool, cloudy, and rainy. But all of the rain serves a purpose. Even in February, Belgium appears green and lush. Acre upon acre of rolling green fields give way to even more greenery. No brown or arid fields here; everything looks fresh and healthy. And speaking of fields, this region of Belgium is flat without the steep mountains that cover much of Albania. When we are out driving around Sidney has been looking out the window and asking where all the mountains are. My response has been south of us........

But the biggest differences between our old world and new one are cultural.  First there are the families and children. Children are everywhere but rather than being treated like little kings and queens, they are expected to be seen and not heard. In some respects this attitude has been stressful for me; Sidney's occasional public temper tantrums which were met with sympathetic smiles and nods of understanding in Albania are greeted with sneers of disdain here. I have yet to see a child in public throwing a fit and even Sidney has noticed and commented on this. As he says, the babies (what he calls any child) are quiet. I'm using his observations as a lesson on how he should behalf and I dare say he is catching on. On more than one occasion when he would have otherwise protested loudly, he has quickly commented that he wants to be quiet like the other children. This is definitely not a bad thing.

And the differences go on. Smoking bans are actually enforced meaning restaurants, shops, and other public spaces are free of the plumes of smoke that I have sadly grown accustomed to breathing. Because of this, going out is actually a pleasant experience. Restaurant menus are varied rather than the same handful of items we are accustomed to seeing. That said, Sidney's standbys of pasta or pizza aren't always readily available. Sometimes this is a challenge but it is forcing a set in his ways little boy to expand his horizons. Whereas days in the Med started late and ended even later, here the schedules start and stop earlier than we have grown accustomed to. Finding a sit down restaurant that actually served food before seven in the evening was a challenge in Albania. In our little corner of Belgium, meal time begins earlier. But we're actually finding this to be a good thing. Eating dinner earlier may mean less down time between work and dinner but it translates into earlier bedtimes and yes, more sleep; sleep which is desperately needed by our entire family. Whereas in Albania we were just getting going by the time nine o'clock rolled around, since we've arrived in Belgium, we have all been fast asleep by this early witching hour. And these differences are just the tip of the iceberg.

But I believe that change and differences are good. It may not always be comfortable but in the end we are better because of them. And if there is one thing I've learned in the course of all my travels it is that what makes each country or region unique is what makes that place special. Just imagine how boring the world be if things were the same regardless of where we were on the globe. So we may not be in our Kansas anymore anymore but that doesn't make it better or worse than where we are now. It is just different and like I said, different is a good thing.

(Consumer) Culture Shock

I remember the first time I stepped foot in an Albanian grocery store. Looking around me I felt overwhelmed and out of my element as I didn't recognize any of the items I saw. At first glance the shelves were filled with a variety of items with foreign labels written in Italian, Greek, and sometimes Albanian. Items were not organized the same way they were in American stores leaving me wandering aimlessly through the aisles unable to find what I was looking for. At first I wasn't sure whether the item was simply unavailable in Albania, I was searching in the wrong place, or I was looking right at it and not recognizing it. After awhile, by looking closely at items, thanks to pictures, I was eventually able to figure out what was inside of most cans and jars but I still erred every once in awhile. I remember thinking I was buying capers and once they were added to my chicken piccata discovering that they were actually green peppercorns. Oops! Over time, however, my comfort level at Albanian shopping grew to the point where I knew what was located where and what was available, meaning on a good day I could be in and out of the store in a matter of minutes.  I learned to love the products that were available and became incredibly innovative in making substitutions when needed. And then we moved...............

I'll admit, here in Belgium, I'm once again feeling a bit overwhelmed about stepping foot in a grocery store. After living in a second world country, the choices available to me are stymieing me from the moment I grab my shopping carriage. Because we are now located in close proximity to an American military base, I now have regular access to commissaries. For the unfamiliar, commissaries are essentially military grocery stores that sell American grocery products. Regardless of where you are in the world, whether you are in Virginia, San Diego, Japan or yes, Belgium, the store layouts are the same and you can buy your Oscar Meyer Bacon, Old El Paso Taco shells and Bounty paper towels. (It is like having a little piece of America in your shopping cart). Stepping into the commissary for the first  time I felt like I was immediately transported back to  northernVirginia. But I was overwhelmed just the same. I was simply not used to having so many options.

By the time we left Albania many of the most popular American brands were available in the stores. Heinz ketchup lined the shelves and it even came in a "spicy" version which wasn't all that spicy. Coke was always available but the European version was made with sugar rather than corn syrup, which produced a drink with a totally different flavor. Pringles were readily available in every store in Albania but the flavors were different and limited. Sidney's favorite in Albania were called "spicy" which in reality was a red pepper flavor. Here the choices are endless; while not including red pepper you can even buy pecan pie and guacamole or one of many other varieties. Who knew?  Looking for an easy dinner option, I selected boxed pasta and Barilla sauce from the shelf. First, the number of brands available to me was overwhelming. While the pasta tasted the same as the Albanian version, the sauce, one that I regularly bought in Albania, was different. Despite being the same brand, what was in my jar was sweeter and thicker than what I had bought in Albania. Looking closely at the label I saw that my Italian Barilla pasta sauce had been imported from the United States. I suddenly found myself longing for my European sauce. And rice for risotto, my go-to meal? None could be found on the shelves but I could have bought ten different varieties of instant or quick cooking white rice. But some of the differences in products were wonderful. My name brand paper towels purchased from the commissary were soft and absorbent rather than the flimsy yet stiff paper products I had grown accustomed to. My hands actually felt soft rather than shriveled and dry after washing a sink full of dishes with my American dish detergent. These are a few of the "luxuries" I had been missing.

But my options don't end there. In addition to the American commissary, there is a whole variety of European grocery stores in Belgium. The most prevalent appears to be Carrefour, a French grocery chain that also established a small footprint in Albania during our final year there. But all Carrefour stores are not created equal. I know stores cater to their market and in that respect I suppose that the Albanian Carrefour stores meet the needs of their clientele. In fact, the items they carried were not all that different from those sold in the other grocery store chain in Albania. Choices were limited but somehow it seemed to work. But Belgian Carrefour stores? They are a whole other beast that are

overwhelming in their own (good) way. Looking for cheese? Forget one aisle, there are several. Do you want crackers to accompany your cheese? There is an entire aisle of different varieties dedicated to just this. In Albania you might find an entire aisle of crackers but they were all the same saltine-style cracker. Juice? With the exception of the red orange juice that Sidney loves, this Carrefour has every variety imaginable. And yes, there are American brands as well. In addition to European brands, the cereal aisle is filled with Kellogg's varieties that again, I never knew existed. Need to fulfill your Mexican cravings? You have choices here too. And the options just go on and on.

Honestly, at the moment I feel as though I have too many choices. While I still love certain American products, I've grown used to shopping in local markets and for the most part, buying European products. (For all you bakers out there, those gourmet European butters that cost an arm and a leg in America are everyday inexpensive here!). Even in the midst of my cultural shocked daze, I'm realizing that I now have the best of both worlds. I can buy the American products I love (cleaning and paper products) and the European brands I've grown to prefer all while discovering items unique to Belgium. Once I recover from my initial shock, this is going to be fun. And if history holds true, I'll soon be in and out of these stores in a matter of minutes as well.........or maybe not since I do have a lot of options.

Bust

Early in our Albanian tenure; we were all younger, thinner, and
had more hair (I was even a red head)

Today, after 952 days, we are departing Albania for what is likely to be the last time. The past few years have been a wild ride filled with ups and downs, great joy and crushing heartbreak, adventure filled weekends and lazy days of doing nothing, long work hours and too many responsibilities.  We've made life long friends and met people we hope to never see again.  Our little boy arrived as a baby and is departing as a worldly, bilingual four year old.  We've visited twenty-three European countries (some multiple times) yet managed to explore Albania's natural beauty from north to south, east to west.  (In fact, we've probably seem more of Albania than many of our Albanian friends).  We've explored more castle ruins than I even thought was humanly possible and walked in places that seem trapped in a previous time. I quickly discovered the importance of investing in a good pair of shoes, always carrying my own toilet paper, and never leaving home without both a hand held fan and a sweater.  I've learned to improvise with my cooking, to always watch where I step, and that embassies, street dogs, farm animals and overflowing dumpsters can happily co-exist on a single street (namely ours).  I've had it reaffirmed time and time again that I really do not care for offal, raki, or Albanian wine but have never tired of the plethora of  fresh fish, figs, and other seasonal delicacies.  My defensive driving skills have been honed and I been amazed time and time again at what can be made out of concrete, but I still can't decipher whether a bobbing head means yes, no, or a little of both.

We've grown and matured and we've seen Albania grow right along with us; new roads, many with actual pavement, have reduced travel times from one end of the country to another; new shopping malls, movie theaters, and grocery stores have all introduced a variety of services and amenities to the country inching Albania one step closer to her western contemporaries. But through all of this the house across the street from us remains as occupied and unfinished as the day we arrived while the number of old Mercedes, battered furgons, and over the top expensive vehicles plying the roads has drastically increased.  During the past two and a half years airlines have come and gone, we witnessed national elections and a new government come to power, and are watching Albania's ongoing quest to be welcomed into the EU.  From The New York Times to Lonely Planet, travel writers continue to rate Albania as an up and coming place to visit.  (And, in my opinion, Albania is well worth a visit).  Yes, the past two and a half years have been quite the adventure.

So what does the future hold for us?  For sure, there will be more adventures, more memories to be made and new opportunities to be had. This blog will continue with the same URL but a new name.  (I'm testing out names so if you have any suggestions, please send them my way).  So stay tuned to find out what the future holds for us!

Our most recent family picture; we are all older and
wiser but still enjoying our adventures

(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 finally:

Our view for the past 31 months; to me, this is Albania:

Kruje Redux, Again & Again

Kruje was both our first and last day trip here in Albania.  Because of this, here's a repost of a popular blog posting from two years ago:

*************************************************************

We had been in Albania less than a month before we discovering the town of Kruje.  Located less than an hour driving time outside of Tirana (which is nothing given the road conditions in the country and the time it takes to drive the shortest of distances), this small mountainside town is historic, touristy, and breathtaking all at the same time.  It has become our go-to location to take our out of town visitors- both official and unofficial.

View of the castle ruins

During the 15th Century Kruje was an important part of Albania's resistance movement against the invading Ottoman Empire.  Under the leadership of Albania's national hero George Kastrioti Skanderbeg, its castle was a part of Albania's inter-connected communication system that ran the length of the country warning citizens of impending invaders.  Its strategic location is still apparent.  On a clear day, you can see the Adriatic Sea to the west, Montenegro to the north, and the snow covered peaks of southeastern Albania to the south. On one visit we were fortunate enough to see all three at sunset (we even saw the green flash of the sun sinking into the horizon- something we had only previously seen in Hawaii).  During all of our visits, with the sheer mountains serving as a backdrop, we've seen the rolling hills filled with olive groves giving way to the flatter coastal plains.  Sometimes the mountains are shrouded in low lying clouds but it is always beautiful.

By far, the main historical attraction of Kruje is its castle ruins and the Skenderbeg Museum.  While the walls remain, the castle itself is mostly in ruins.  It is possible to see the remains of some of the original buildings, including a mostly deteriorated monastery.  A small ethnographic museum depicting early life in Albania is located in one corner of the grounds.  And this being Albania, several cafes have been erected on spots that were once strategically placed lookout spots along the castle's exterior walls. 

In 1982, the Skenderbeg Museum, designed by Pranvera Hoxha, the architecture daughter of the later dictator, opened.  We've toured this museum on several occasions both by ourselves and under the guidance of English speaking docents.  As you wind through the warren of small rooms filled with ancient artifacts, maps, and historical reproductions, you are treated to a thorough retelling of Albania's ancient history.  The crowning jewel of the museum, however, is the panoramic views from the building's rooftop terrace.  From here you can see to the Adriatic and beyond.  (Sidney, of course, is partial to the spring fed water fountain that is built into the side of the museum's exterior walls).

The old Ottoman Bazaar; many a gift
has been purchased here

A well preserved stone lined Ottoman Bazaar serves as the heart of the tourist district.  Here aggressive merchants invite you into their shops to view their wares. Some of the goods are tacky- coffee mugs and magnets sporting the faces of Enver Hoxha, the late dictator, and Sali Berisha, the former long time Prime Minister. Soviet era military memorabilia (a helmet with a bullet hole??) shares shelf space with hand carved olive wood bowls and old rusted irons.  Other items are uniquely Albanian.Where else can you get a hand woven rug that sports both the Albanian and American flags and stone ashtrays shaped like the ubiquitous Albanian bunkers? Whatever your fancy; whether it be traditional wedding costumes, felted wool slippers and hats, hand embroidered tablecloths, antique dowry chests, or silver filigree jewelry, you can buy it here. Haggling is welcome as are Euros or even American dollars. You will be promised a deal because you are a "special friend".  If you have money to spend and want to shop, the Ottoman Bazaar is the place to go.

This would not be an Albanian town if it wasn't filled with smoke filled cafes and restaurants.  You don't go to Kruje because you want fine dining.  Whether tucked into nooks in the bazaar or perched a top the castle ruins, Kruje has its share of restaurants with menus boasting "traditional Albanian cuisines".  Roasted lamb and village chicken (whole roasted chicken served over heavily salted rice) accompany whatever grilled vegetable is in season.  As is the case in all restaurants in this country, pizza is always an option (and one usually taken by the Brown boys). Harsh tasting red wine and raki are the drinks of choice.  The often mediocre quality of the food is quickly forgotten since the scenic views are the real reason for your visit.

Kruje seems to have a little something for everyone and that is why we keep going back.  And as any one who has visited us can attest to, if you visited us in Albania, we took you to Kruje.

Clouds looming over the mountains

(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:

Lake Ohrid, from the Albanian shores

Show Me The Neighborhood: Tirana, Albania

Here's my latest blogging activity.  Today's entry is a part of Piri-Piri Lexicon's "show me your neighborhood around the world" project and as such, I'm doing my part to introduce the world to Tirana, Albania.

The rules are simple:  Post a minimum of six pictures of typical scenes from around your neighborhood.  Photos must be taken by the blogger (in this case me!) and include a typical mode of transportation, a school or educational facility, a market or shopping facility, a typical house, a nearby street, and a playground.

It sounds simple enough, right?  It is until I realized that "typical" in Albania is anything but.  As I have written about in previous blog entries, Albania is simultaneously trapped in a time warp and barreling forward full force in time.  Because of this you can see both old and new, traditional and modern all in the same city block.  And these pictures reflect this contrast but to me, this is what Albania is all about.

Transportation:

Albanian transportation...its takes all forms.  Bright yellow Mercedes taxis (top left)
are popular as are donkeys  (lower left) and horse drawn cart (middle right).   Entire families
will pile onto motorbikes (lower left) and those who are fortunate enough to own their own
cars turn them to haul cargo as well as people  (upper right).

School or educational facility:

This is a new school and well maintained school located in suburban Tirana.
Albanian schools, regardless of when they were built, are utilitarian and don't
have a warm vibe surrounding them.  The locked gate surrounding the school
continues this unwelcoming message.

Market:

Super, or hyper, markets are now readily available but my favorite places to shop are the local
markets. These are loud and chaotic affairs where no one speaks English but everyone is eager
to sell you their wares. If you want fresh, local produce this is the place to go.  You can find (top)
 freshly roasted sheep heads, (lower left) nuts and dried peppers, and (lower right) all types of
olives and pickled vegetables.

Typical house:

Typical housing in urban areas falls into two categories.  There are five to ten
story apartment buildings (top); some are walk ups and others have small elevators.
Others are "single" family homes that actually house multi-generations of the same
family (bottom).  This house is across the street from me and has three generations
living in it. As is often the case the bottom two stories are complete with the upper
 two remaining unfinished until that space is needed, i.e. when one of the sons, or in
this case grandsons, gets married and moves his bride into this family home.   

A nearby street:

Both of these pictures are streets in Tirana.  The one on the left is a typical urban
through fare while the one on the left is more suburban.   It is a common sight during
the early morning and evening hours to see farmers walking their small flock of
sheep or cows home for the day.

Playground:

Albanians love children and they are welcome everywhere; therefore, playgrounds are everywhere.
From restaurants and cafes to shopping malls and neighborhood street corners, you are likely to find a
playground.  Ironically, most are little more than a few pieces of metal playground equipment and would
 be deemed unsafe by American standards.  This picture, taken at a neighborhood cafes, is  one of the
safer and new structures we have encountered.

(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.