After the rush of the first few weeks of the second year at LAC, I
will try to take time to jot down some of the happenings from the end of the
last year at school and my week of local travels before meeting my family in
Germany.
It has been a full last month with transitioning to the new
building, wrapping up the work and grades for the school year, and preparing
myself to leave and travel. I have been working a lot with Dini again on fixing
certain things in the building and setting up the internet and computer lab. We
had a service day where the students helped to clean up the property and edge
the flower beds before picking up trash along the street. There has been a lot
of rearranging and decorating needed in the classrooms, apartments, downstairs,
and outside. After all this work, things are starting to come together and it
seems like it will be a great facility for us next year with the help of a
couple of projects that yet need to be completed.
We had an outdoor end of the year picnic for everyone who had
taken our ESL courses to present their certificates. There were snacks and we
played some games outside, mostly with the soccer and volleyball. The large
yard is a wonderful blessing that draws us closer to the beauties of creation
and provides opportunities for recreation within school activities. Although
Reni was unable to come to the picnic, before I left I was able to accomplish
my goal of inviting him to coffee and pay for it. I got up to go to the
bathroom and paid the waiter on the way out. Of course, when no bill came he
protested briefly, but I told him I had to return the favor before I left.
The end of the year went mostly well academically. The students
were getting more used to the routine of review, testing, and final projects so
we only had a couple who were giving trouble with meeting the requirements. We
created a schedule for supervision and mixed up some of the students to prevent
the normal cheating attempts during tests. My finals were a compilation of
questions from previous tests so not only did they review them before, but we
focused on reviewing a limited amount of material in class. Because of this,
there was not much of any reason for students to do poorly, but naturally some
of them didn’t study or pay attention as they should have.
The weekend after the end of school, the touring choir from
Eastern Mennonite High School arrived to visit and perform for closing ceremony
as part of their choir tour in Europe. The students were hosted mostly by
families of our Albanian students, but I hosted Eli and Tyler in my room for a
night. There was a speech by Klementina and a group of students who
demonstrated a traditional line dance in costume before the choir performed
several songs. They were planning to perform multiple sets, but this was just
another example of something that got lost in translation. As they had in the
past, the audience had a short attention span and some felt free to carry on
conversation during the performance. After the ceremony ended there was of
course dancing as the students from American and Albania sparsely intermingled
in the international language of movement.
It was great to have some other guys around my age so I could relax
and act as guys do. I spread out my normal cuisine for them and we stayed up fairly
late talking and joking around. On Saturday, we walked up to the castle to give
them a taste of the history and a great view. Another student came along who
told us a few interesting hosting stories from the night before as two cultures
interacted. We met the girls for lunch before returning to see the group off as
they headed north on their tour bus.
Since I was leaving Monday morning, there were farewell’s to be
said for the summer. I hung out Saturday evening with Elvis in the park, in
town, and then went on a motorbike ride. We went to church for the last time
then the teachers had coffee with Ermelinda and Irena before running into
Arilda and her family for more coffee. I had been trying to figure out how I
would get the stuff I needed back in the states while not taking more than one
big bag to haul along with us in Europe. Fortunately, Jessica was able to take
home some of the gifts that I had bought for others, which allowed me to pack
everything else into one suitcase. It was time for some more traveling alone.
Day 1
The next morning, after saying goodbye to Dini and Klementina, I left
the school with Kaityln and Jessica in the van driven Augustine. They dropped me
off at the bus stop where I bid farewell to the two of them and boarded the bus
for Tirana while they went to the airport to fly home. Upon arriving, I walked
the streets for an hour searching for a bus that would take me to Macedonia at
a decent time. I was worried because the first several places I checked did not
have a bus until the next day, however, the fourth company had a bus that left
in the afternoon.
I had several hours to kill so I went to the city center and ate
some sufflaqe as I gazed at the statue of Skannerbeu in the square. Then I
entered the National Culture Museum that covered the whole history of Albania.
I quickly noticed the focus of Albanian identity was maintaining the idea that
they were uniquely different from those around them. They
are descendants of the Illyrians, a people contemporary with the
ancient Greeks, who would later fiercely struggle against Roman
domination of the region. The first exhibits were a slightly simpler
version of other exhibits I had seen displaying items from Greek antiquity
including pottery, weapons, statues, and little everyday items.
The next exhibit showcased the medieval alliances of
regional leaders in resistance against invading groups culminating with the
Beselidhja signed in Lezha in 1444 under the leadership of Skannerbeu. Against
the odds, this alliance would beat back the incursions of Ottoman Turks by
holding onto key castles in the region until after Skannerbeu's death. This
time of resistance is viewed as the pinnacle of Albanian history as the perfect
representation of maintaining their identity through resistance against foreign
powers.
Albania remained under Ottoman control despite continued
resistance until 1912. The Ottomans persecuted non-Muslim inhabitants, so many
converted making the region majority Muslim. The next group of exhibits
portrayed Albanian art and culture developing during the movement toward
independence starting with the cultural revolution of 1878centered in Prizren.
The weak government initially established after independence would depend on
the Italians for development until they were invaded
by fascist forces in WWII. This marked another time when Albanians
proudly resisted the powerful foreign invaders, but they were quickly subdued
by the German blitzkrieg.
After beating the fascists out, Enver Hoxha took control of the
country in 1941 as leader of the communist party beginning half a century of
relative stability at the price of isolation and oppression. Hoxha grew
increasingly paranoid of the outside world cutting off relations with
Yugoslavia, the USSR, and China and then built tens of thousands of
igloo-shaped bunkers to defend against foreign incursion.
In 1992, the Democratic Party, under current Prime minister Sali
Berisha, took control of politics bringing freedom to the country. However, the
country was not prepared and the collapse of a nation-wide pyramid scheme lead
to rebellion and anarchy as citizens seized weapons and took what they could.
Although many people still have their AK-47's, the country gradually stabilized
until 2002 when order was returned and the country was opened to foreign
development. Since then, Albania has been rapidly changing from an isolated
traditional economy and culture to a nation focused on Western government and
capitalism seeking membership in the EU.
After walking through the remainder
of exhibits dedicated to continued resistance, oppression under
communism, and to the contribution of Mother Theresa (born in Albania) I
returned to the streets of the capital. I walked through the growing shopping
district, rode to the top of a sky bar that offered a panorama of the city, and
visited "the Pyramid" that was the seat of Hoxha's government. An
image that made an impression on me was an emblem for the "Kony 2012"
campaign that was spray painted on the haunting building. This image
representing an international movement toward justice was graffitied onto the
symbol of communist oppression at the heart of the country. Not only was this a
stark contrast, but it also revealed the shifting attitudes of Albania moving
to embrace the world that it had been isolated from for so many years.
It was now time for me to catch my bus to Macedonia, but there
were no markings for a bus stop at the place I had been told to wait. I was
beginning to stress that I had missed my ride when I heard some English being
spoken by two approaching men. I asked where they were going and they told me
they were waiting for the same bus as I. Andrew and Damien were two Englishman
who were returning to Damien's current residence outside of Ohrid where he was
teaching math at a university. We spent most of the 6 hour bus ride in conversation
about Albania, other cultures, and the issues plaguing our world today.
We reached our destination at 10pm and had to take a taxi into the
city center that we split along with Jon (pronounced "Yan") who was a
classic example of a traveling Nordic youth. He explained that he had a hostel
reserved for the next two nights, so I decided to check it out with him. Damien
lead us through the streets, pointing out a few landmarks, to the hostel where
we dropped off our things before heading out to a local pub to watch soccer and
converse.
Day 2
The next morning I rented a bicycle and rode through the old town
briefly before beginning my aggressive ride up the mountain. After standing to
pedal fighting to climb the constant slope, I was exhausted and opted to rest
at a chapel in the forest. Soon my legs were burning and when I had come to the
end of my energy, I arrived at end of the road in a village with a great view.
I locked my bike and hiked up to the large iron cross at the summit and at some
lunch. With no legs left, I decided to make my way back to town by taking a
different route. It was very steep at some points, but I made it down to the
lake and rode along the highway back to the city.
I returned the bike and walked the twisting cobblestones to the top
where I lingered among some old religious art in a church. Next was an ancient
Roman theater followed by the Ottoman fortress with great views of the lake and
beyond from the battlements. Heading down through the pine forest, I visited
several more beautiful stone churches with red tile roofing before finally
dipping my feet in the water and laying on the beach. That night I wandered
around with some others from the hostel and ate byrek.
Day 3
In the morning, I boarded a boat tour along the lake with an energetic
guide. We stopped at an area with ruins dating back to the Neolithic period with
a reconstructed village on supports along the shore. There was also a Roman
fortress built with a prominent position over the lake. The tour continued on
to the monastery complex at Sveti Naum, featuring many peacocks and a beautiful
setting along the lake. Since I was on my way out of Macedonia, I decided to
forgo the return trip, grabbed some lunch, and walked to the road where I could
get a taxi to the border.
After crossing to the Albanian side, I took another taxi unimpressive
Pogradec where I quickly grabbing sweaty furgon to Elbasan. I had been hoping
to find a bus to take me to Saranda or Vlore that night, but there were hardly
any buses going south at that time forcing me to stay the night. I sauntered
through the dusty city looking for a hostel but was unable to find anything. I
found a station that had a 5am bus leaving for Saranda where I witnessed some
street fighting/brick throwing. Seemingly without hostels, I eventually reached
a high-rise international hotel that offered fairly cheap rooms, but there was
no AC meaning a sweaty night. I grabbed some fast food and relaxed by myself
before going to sleep early.
Day 4
It was still dark as we boarded the extended van for the long trip
down to the south of Albania. I prepped for my slumber with a couple qofte
sandwiches. I slept for the first half of the trip before we climbed into the
mountains and took a rest stop in a pine forest before descending steeply down the
grassy, treeless slopes to the coast eventually stopping in Himare. I sat along
the beach and read about Albanian history for an hour before hopping on the bus
to Saranda.
After spending most of the day on a bus, I went searching in the
streets for a place to rest my head. I crossed paths with some typical American
college students looking for hardcore parties before having a hostel owner yell
down from the porch asking if I needed any help. I checked out his place and it
was very reasonable with the walls covered in messages left by past guests
saying how much they loved the city and the owner. I spent a couple hours
laying on the beach, reading, and swimming before climbing up the nearby
mountain to the castle. People could drive there and it seemed to be a popular
night scene with extensive restaurant and bar seating, so I grabbed a beer and
enjoyed the view back down to the city. I found a rock to perch on to watch the
sun set before descending back through the village along with the cows and
winding all the way down to the coast and the promenade. I walked the length of
the promenade before finding a restaurant to enjoy a full spread of Albanian
food while watching soccer. That night back at the hostel, I met Aussies Kim
and Fillip and we agreed to travel to the sights in the area the next day.
Day 5
After breakfast, our first step was to board a bus toward
Gjirokaster and get off by the entrance to the "Blue Eye" pool. We walked
a couple miles before reaching a tropical area with wonderful blue water making
it seem we had been transported to another ecosystem. The depth of the pool is
unknown since divers cannot reach the bottom, but cold water is constantly
flowing up from this natural spring. After wading in the numbing water, we
returned down the path and hopped in the back of a furgon taking us back to
Saranda where we found a bus to Butrint.
This historical site is located on the SW tip of the country and
is perhaps my favorite site in Albania. The land forms an island narrowly
connected to the mainland by a land bridge offering natural protection and a
prominent position for trade. It had been the site of a wealthy settlement
since the time of Alexander the Great up through the Venetian domination of the
Adriatic. The result is several layers of ruins scattered along shaded pathways
in the midst of a lush forest along the bay. There were Roman theaters, baths,
and basilicas along with strong walls, fortresses, and other domestic or
religious sites.
After roaming around the ruins for a couple hours and spending
some time in the museum, we the hitch-hiked on a tour bus to the beach at
Ksamil because Fillip remembered it as one of his favorite spots. We relaxed on
the small curved beach with three islands within swimming distance. I saw a
couple people from Lezha who believed this was the best beach in Albania. As
the sun set, we returned to Saranda and prepared for a joint-supper of seafood risotto
cooked by the hostel owner before heading off to bed.
Day 6
I took the same morning bus, this time all the way through to
Gjirokaster where I planned to visit the hilltop castle. I climbed up the
twisting cobblestone streets until eventually locating the entrance to this foreboding
fortress that has served as a prison and center of resistance in the centuries
since its heyday in Medieval times. The entry barracks were full of artillery taken
from enemies in the modern era, including an “American spy plane” (probably
not). A military museum with hundreds of guns exhibited Albanian resistance to
the Nazis and other invaders during the world wars. There was a large open yard
at the top being prepared for a concert series and I took a while to explore
the ramparts and decrepit nooks.
While there was a great view over the valley from near the clock
tower, there was no way for visitors to reach the top for a sweeping view over
the city itself. I was not ready to give up, so I ventured back into the
caverns until I saw a stream of light. I twisted and climbed my way through a
spider infested hole up to a magnificent view of the classic Ottoman
architecture in the "city of a thousand stairs". From here I noticed
I could reach other restricted areas, but I had reached my prize and did not
want to cause trouble so I exited the castle, visited a traditional
wood-carving shop, and walked down through the old streets. At the bottom, I
negotiated for a cheap furgon to Berat after a taxi driver offered me a ride
for 100 euros. This was a terrible drive in a rickety van with backbreaking
jolts, cliff-side roads, high-speed passing, and sweaty passengers
resulting in several people throwing up along the way.
After one of the most needed rest-stops, we continued into the
hills until eventually reaching Berat, a national historic site and best
preserved example of Ottoman architecture and organization. I ventured into an
Orthodox church before visiting the Helveti (Dervish) monastery with a worship
hall used for transcendent practices (smoking weed) completely separated from
the public mosque. Some local men offered to show me inside and joked about the
“inspired” dervishes who danced in the hall with a beautifully carved and gilded
ceiling that focused ones attention heavenward.
Since I didn’t have long before dark, I elected to climb the steep
hill up to the citadel with its own centuries-old walled in town. The small
chapels and museums were no longer open, but I moseyed around and was able to provide
myself a satisfactory tour with the help of my guidebook. The pace of life up
here was frozen in a more easygoing time as people lived and played in houses
and streets that were centuries old. There were cats in windows, vines growing
on trellises on walls and above the streets, a man walking his horse, and boys
playing with toy trucks. There were some remains of the old castle including a
dark cistern and broken stone passageways built to allow the people access to
river water if the citadel was under siege. I sat on the wall above the city as
the sun began to set watching the light reflect off the beautiful white-washed
houses of the tiered neighborhood across the river below.
As evening came, I walked the winding streets until I found the
guesthouse of the opinionated but hospitable Lorence who had ran into me
outside the church earlier. I paid for him to cook a small dinner of salad,
pasta, wine, and raki that had been made from the grapes growing in his walled-off
backyard. As we ate, we conversed about the city, his house that he was trying
to maintain as a historical sight, and the difference between northern and
southern Albanians. Before bed, I went out to experience the streets at night
and found another wall to sit on offering a view Berat with the stars
shimmering above.
Day 7
In the morning, it was time to end my journey and head back to
school. I took the morning bus to Tirana where I was dropped off in a part of the
city I had never seen, so an old lady offered to walk me through the city to an
alley where I could find a furgon to take me back to Lezha. Often in Albania,
you just have to know where certain things are because there are no signs or
facilities that show the way. In fact, unless people traveled north often, they
did not know where to find furgons to Lezha either.
After reaching Lezha and returning to LAC, I spent much of the day
hanging up flags on my classroom ceiling getting ready for the first day of
school next year so that the room could be showcased to prospective students
and others before I arrived. I was awake for much of the night returning
emails, posting pictures of my trip, doing some wash, packing my bags, and
preparing myself for another travel adventure.
In the morning I said goodbye to Alba, handed in my keys, and paid
my rent for the summer before Augustine drove me to the airport. I had bought
two sufflaqes on the way out of Lezha, so I pulled them out in the airport coffee
shop to fill up for the road ahead. After passing security and arriving at the
gate, I sleepily reflected on the fact that I was leaving Albania after a the
hardest, craziest, and most meaningful year of my life. Then I anxiously boarded
my plane for Munich.
