Turqia!

Chris and I {*escaped*} for the holidays this year--- to Turkey! I’ve been waiting years to feast my eyes on the delights of said country, an appeal growing from endless stories of culture and intrigue that oozed out of the once-great Ottoman Empire. Our hometown of Gjirokastёr was built out of the Ottoman reign—Turkish style houses, pashas and mosques, hamams and hans and teccas... Albania’s history has been drastically shaped by the Turks who ruled from afar, janissaries that controlled the masses, Byzantine churches desecrated and family names changed to Muslim ones. Even our local oligarch, Ali Pasha of Tepelene (now immortalized on every bottle of Tepelene Water), whose son was given control of Gjirokastёr’s kalaja, was in cahoots with the Turkish sultans. And the epic hero Skanderbag (or Turkish Skanderbej) who rose in the ranks of the Ottoman military, eventually turned his back and fought to liberate Albania, stopping the Ottomans from spreading power further into Italy…

Anyway, Chris and I emptied and tidied our house, stuffed our bags, and hopped on a furgon to the Greek border. Once on the other side (freedom! vacation officially begins!) we stuck out our thumbs and stitched our way across the northern mountains to Thessaloniki, Greece’s second largest city. Greece feels like eye candy to me— endless rows of baklava shops, windows brimming with mystery pastries, over-the-top cafes with flashy signs and incomprehensible letters. I’m both excited and disappointed by the “advanced” level of development, overwhelmed by the cost of goods on the European market, disgusted by the inevitability of Albania’s growth pattern…


Chris samples skanikopita but I'm only interested in that beautiful baklava behind him....

Thessaloniki is full of Christmas cheer in December, lots of twinkling light and santas, even a life size nativity scene! We bought our bus tickets for Istanbul—overnight 10 hours—and briskly walked circles around town to keep warm. We were lucky enough to stumble upon some outdoor party (grand opening of something I think) where they gave out free hot drinks and cookies; we tried hard to look anonymous as we hovered near the heaters...


Street party? =free food, drinks, music, and heat!


Nativity scenes and festive streets in Thessaloniki

Arriving in Istanbul (not Constantinople) in the early hours, totally disoriented, hungry, and cold, we sought refuge in the nearest breakfast börek shop for a cup of tea. The restaurant, a chain that rivals store counts with Starbucks, also housed an internet café several flights up, so we were able to skype our friend and hostess. We planned to stay a few nights with Besana, an Albanian friend from Gjirokastёr, who is getting her master’s degree there.


Early morning chill at Taksim! (Fresh off the bus)


Findikli Molla Celebi camii, in Bektas, overlooking the bridge and Golden Horn

Besana put us up in her tiny apartment (small but super convenient location in Taksim, the central square) and spent 3 days guiding us around town, drinking samovars full of Turkish tea** at a café overlooking the Bosporus; wandering past the Aya Sophia, New Mosque, and Blue Mosque; riding the ferry over to the Anatolian side of town, sampling the city’s best baklava shops and food stalls (including kumpir, a popular meal consisting of a giant baked potato stuffed with cheese and topped with a vast array of veggies and fixins’); smoking nargile at a madresa-turned-café spot...


Wandering the streets near Bektas


Ordering kumpir, a filling vegetarian lunch


Men washing their feet outside the New Mosque


Ferry ride across the Borphorous


One of our many, many baklava stops


Smoking nargile at the madresa

**what we learned about Turkish tea: Samovars (introduced by Russia) are commonly used to boil water in a pot on the bottom and then pour into a second pot (filled with black tea grown in Eastern Turkey, near the Black Sea) that sits above it. A small amount of concentrated brew from the top pot is poured into a small tulip-shaped glass, then hot water is added from the bottom pot, and served with one or two sugar cubes (not packets, but yes sometimes individually wrapped cubes). To order an “open” cup is to have less tea and more water.


Proper Turkish tea party, inside Gulhane Park


Sultan Ahmet caddesi tram road, lined with restaurants and shops


Blue Mosque lit up at night

We booked another overnight bus to Konya to visit the Mevlani mecca, hometown of Sufism’s founder Mevlani Rumi. I had contacted a couchsurfer to host us; and from that stay we met also a French couple who are on a year’s journey, walking from Paris to Israel. From the Otogar (bus station) Chris and I rode the tram away from town, toward his apartment by the university. Our host, Marcus, is an Austrian exchange student studying organic agriculture, and is part of Europe’s Erasmus program. His roommate, Ferit, is half Turkish, half Austrian, also studying organic agriculture, and recently inherited his family’s olive grove on the Marmara coast. We totally hit it off with the guys, and were invited to visit the farm for New Year’s for a party. Since we originally wanted to come volunteer on a farm (through TaTuTa.org) and were turned away because lack of availability, this was a stroke of good luck!


Linear tram connecting the city to the University, 40 km away

We stayed 2 nights in Konya, wandering the modest size town, 45 minutes away by tram. Apparently the outer city has grown into completely reckless sprawl, clusters of enormous concrete apartment buildings lining the tram. Staring out the windows as the developments flew by, our mouths gaping in horror, we discussed the somewhat orderly organization with spaces for future parks and potential trees. For now it lays barren, nothing but skyscrapers and mosques. No shops, no amenities…just apartments.


View of the bizarre city sprawl from Marcus and Ferit's balcony

Inside the actual town Chris and I visited the Mevlani mosque, and several others, seeking shelter from the late afternoon chill. We typically sat in the back, me hiding underneath my hijab, quietly reading or writing in my journal while Chris filled his book with sketches. We toured the enormous indoor fruit & veggie pazar, sampling white stringy cheese that resembles hair, dried mulberries and apples, and conversing with the cheery shop owners. Turkish people strike me as incredibly friendly (even more than Albanians?), always asking where we come from and happy to hand out a small morsel of their goods. Several people invited us in for a cup of tea, and chuckled happily when we spoke the few Turkish words and phrases we had learned.


Konya's gorgeous and almost overwhelming fruit n veggie pazar


Mevlani camii (no pictures were allowed inside, a shame because it was exquisitely decorated, I promise)



An elaborately decorated mihrab inside one of Konya's many cammis


Inside Konya's tile museum, full of beautiful pottery and tiles


Shops throughout Turkey are absolutely spilling with barrels of dried fruits, nuts, spices, bulgar, etc.

And then a trip to the Hamam! Although this is now a touristy thing to do, local people traditionally (some still do) congregated at the neighborhood bathhouse for a wash and scrub, truly an invigorating experience. This hamam sees few tourists, so I was led by a woman through a maze of steamy rooms, as she instructed me (by pointing and demanding, but no English spoken) to Wash here! Lay down! Turn over! I anticipated being embarrassed to strip down in a public space, but as it turned out the few other women sharing the fountains in the bath were not intimidating, and barely noticed my presence. And truthfully, these women were so rotund, with strata of fat rolls they sat meticulously washing, like an ancient Greek painting, it was kind of comforting to have them around. As my lady scrubbed my skin with her special mitt, layers of grey goop dripped off, akin to eraser rubbings. Admittedly, at this point I hadn’t showered in almost a week, causing a transition to cleanliness so drastic I felt like I transformed into a human again. Who knows what I was before… (stinky hippie!)



From Konya we bought bus tickets (the buses are pricier than Albania but really comfortable) to Cappadocia… more to come!


Sufi headstones outside the Mevlani Mosque-- they have sufi hats!


Turkish man takes a break in the pazar, another good use of an oil canister


Street salep-seller, a hot drink made from ground orchid roots

Art Projects with Eva's Class

Chris has been doing weekly art projects with some 2nd grade students in Kota Hoxhi School. Eva, one of the teachers we have gotten to know and work with frequently, is super open to all kinds of new ideas and creative ways to teach her kids (an unfortunately rare quality here), and opens her doors to us every chance possible. I've done a few health activities with the kids (for Global Handwashing Day we simulated germs on our hands using coffee grounds and Vaseline) as well as environmental games (the ever-popular Web of Life simulates biodiversity and allows a discussion for how and why we should protect our environment), so we are familiar with some of the kids and they all know us.
Here's some pics from the first meeting-- Eva explained to the children how unique our fingerprints are from one another, and then we made thumb prints and transformed them into characters. This was one of my favorite things to do when I was young-- thanks to The Great Thumbprint Book, by Ed Emberly. The kids loved it!


Chris drew samples on the board for the kids to try themselves


Kids busily printing their thumb characters

The following week Chris carved pumpkins and drew a Happy Halloween (Gezuar Halloween!) page for the kids to color in. Eva explained to them about this American holiday and what we do; something similar to the Greek version of Carnival they celebrate in February. Although for kicks we had them come trick-or-treat for bits of candy on their way out, something of course they enjoyed.


Check out them jack-o-lanterns!


Grab bag! American candy courtesy Arlene~~


Gezuar Halloween! a young vajza shows off her masterpiece

The next week Chris had the students draw fruits and fruit characters, unfortunately I was in Mal i Zi (with the camera) and thus we have no pics from that day. But we will continue! Perhaps thanksgiving this week, and then begin with Christmas festivities.

Festivale Folkloric Kombetare 2009

The long-awaited qui-annual (our best guess at every-four-years) national folk festival took place up in Gjirokastёr’s castle over the last weekend of September. During communism this gala was organized every four years, whereby groups from around the country and surrounding regions would come to show off their traditional music and costumes. It was a big deal, we’re talking shume rendesi. Well, it was scheduled to occur in 2008, but from what we were told they delayed it until this fall because 2008 was the 100th year anniversary of [the dictator] Enver Hoxha’s birthday.


Unfortunately, the festival is nowhere near as big and elaborate as it used be. National pride, state support for training and costumes, ambitions to be part of a vibrant community, etc. are severely lacking throughout the country, but there is just enough life to keep the festival going and draw a modest crowd of visitors from around the country. I presume its especially good business for Gjirokastёr-- people need to pay for hotels and food right? Though I heard afterward that the municipality demanded the hotels to put up the performers gratis, which seems unfair and self-depreciating for the local economy. So typical here!

I wasn’t supposed to be here for the festival. I had planned to visit Sarajevo with a friend, but our plans failed when she had to rearrange her travel dates. Thus, disappointingly, no half-marathon. I had trained for a few months—needed something easier than a full 26 miles, but still a bit of a challenge and a nudge to get out of bed in the early morning for a treacherous jog through dog-country. I don’t consider this a total loss, because really the training was what I wanted. And an opportunity to visit Bosnia’s capital—which I will, perhaps in November.

Most of the work during the folk fest was done by the Gjirokastёr Conservation Development Organization, the office where Allan is assigned. They are located at the obelisk which overlooks the city, castle, and valley, in a reconstructed former school. In my opinion their office (which is funded by the Packard Institute—ie Hewlett Packard-- and, who also run the Butrint Foundation) does most of the projects in the Old Town. [**Although I'm not saying they are free of corruption and inefficiency.] GCDO installed bilingual panels throughout the castle with maps that explain the layout and factoids, as well as brand new solar panels to illuminate the corridors. Ironically, the government collects castle entrance fees, which then get sent up to Tirane and into the pockets of the Ministry; so while America sends money in for local efforts, the Albanian government gets to pocket it. Gjirokastёr residents benefited: zero.

Anyway, GCDO is in the process of opening an ‘artisan incubator’ project, through which they are restoring the rooms above their Tourist Information Center, located in the center of the Pazar. In this space, they will hold workshops to train locals in artisan crafts such as woodworking and stone carving. For the first two days of the festival GCDO organized artisans from all over the country to come and sell/showcase their products in the streets of the Pazar, which brought a revitalizing sense of life to the upper city. I was placed on a panel of judges to evaluate the crafts and choose winners, which sounds easy but somehow carried on to an all-day affair. Que será, it’s nice to feel needed. The real difficulty was comparing apples to oranges— who can say whether wood carving is better or worse than the traditional costumes, or embroidery, or pottery, or woven rugs? And what can we judge these on—most marketable to tourists? Best preservation of traditional crafts (even if they are something no one would desire to purchase)? My fellow judges chose to follow UNESCO guidelines—concepts like innovation, craftsmanship, and sustainability were discussed. We eventually chose some beautiful stones that are painted with replications of the mosaics discovered in the archaeological park Butrint, woodcarvings from Shkoder, and a woman’s painstakingly embroidered traditional costumes from Tiranё. Regional, varied, categorical… voila!


OK so back to the festival. Each night we hiked our way up to the castle along with several hundred Albanians, a gaggle of PCVs, and the occasional foreign tourist. Chris and I housed a dozen or so volunteers each night, camped out on our floor, with Allan’s, Greg’s, and Seth’s houses also packed tight. On the first night Chris and I organized a bake sale with kids from the Red Cross to raise money for the youth center—we set up a table, some posters, donation boxes, and successfully sold batches of chocolate chip and sugar biskotat to passers-by. Of course a lot of people dismissed us as kot [worthless], or stingily shouted “I don’t eat cookies!” when we beckoned them, but overall I was surprised at how many people pitched in to the boxes and happily walked on. After the money was counted we decided it was a wildly successful venture, and are planning to do something similar at the schools. This was all Chris’ initiative and hard work, kudos burri!

Some nights we were able to climb up to the top of the castle wall and peer down on the festivities from above in our own private alcove. Others we piled in the back along the walls, or (once) I sat up front in the chairs with Patricia to take some photos. My pics are sorely lacking because I don’t have a zoom lens, but I hope to remedy that soon, and for purposes of displaying great art I’ll attach some of Patricia’s amazing shots.


(Courtesy Patricia Hong)


(Dancing Vajzat; courtesy of Patricia)


PCVs overlooking the fest (C. of Patricia)


Polyphonic choir (C. of Patricia)


By the 5th night of the festival I grew serenely used to the routine of “castle-time”; but ya know when you see too many temples in one trip and they all start to look alike? I definitely had that feeling for the costumes and music and general gaiety. I’m glad I was able to see the community pull together, even if for only a glimpse, and also to witness an authentically non-exploited festivity before it becomes something of global stature. That’s Chris and my dream— to peak into a piece of the world before the strings of ragged backpackers make a routine of it, before the organized tours are developed, before it gets listed in the Lonely Planet Top 100 Destinations. I hear endless stories of friends and relatives who traveled through Morocco, Egypt, Thailand, Vietnam, Afghanistan… 20 years ago, when they were still traditional backwaters, off-the-beaten-path, the cheap places totally unaccustomed to foreigners wandering their streets, markets, and ancient sites. I swear I was born 20 years too late. But at least I have that now. Shqiperia is still so closed off and neglected by the rest of the world. But they will come, I know it. In fact, there’s no avoiding it, so I’m just trying to soak it up while I can. I’ll say, Yeah I used to live there. Back when they didn’t have electricity or water 24 hours/day. When people spoke in Old Leke. When the middle coast was nothing but empty stretches of white sand and turquoise water. And strangers would beckon you into their homes for a cup of strong Turkish coffee, just because you smiled as you passed by… Yeah, I lived there.

Mid service and Maqedonije

We’re pushing 17 months in Albania! In August G12 gathered in Korce, an eastern city sometimes referred to as the “Paris of Albania”, to recap our first year of service and create a plan of attack for the next one, as well as several sessions dealing with post-service plans. The conference was mostly run by our own volunteers; some official how-to CV and resume info, grad school Q&A, discussions with a panel of expats working within various foreign organizations (consular officer, USAID, private sector, UN)… There were also MSC University “classes” where volunteers organized skill-sharing topics. Chris and I were part of the environmental hour—Chris taught Composting 101 and I showed how to recycle household waste into useful objects, like plastic-fabric. [ I can tell you a thousand ways to reduce, reuse, and virtually eliminate all of your plastic bags, that is if I haven’t already shamed you into refusing them at the store to begin with! ]


Some of the perks of our MSC were: 1) Peace Corps worked out a sweet deal to put us up in the super fancy Hotel Grand-- which had Wi-Fi and served delicious meals, and 2) the conference was *conveniently* scheduled during Korce’s annual BEER FEST! Festes e Birres is surprisingly non-Albanian, and by that I only mean to say that it’s a municipality-led production where all sorts of organizations and vendors work together to put on a large-scale event, complete with live music, all sorts of food (meat, meat, and meat), and the general population of the city showed up to support it and have fun. No matter which political party they belong to. I guess maybe Korce beer is just too darn good to pass up, and at 50 cents per cup why not?


Some of my favorite ladies!!


On the way to the beer garden entrepreneurs sold fresh grilled meat kebabs... and yes that's a bunker behind him!

So we attended en masse. We’re like a big family. We hogged three long picnic tables and created several towers of beer cups. I spent most of the time doing crazy dances with Maggie and Amy, and whoever else was game—one the bands even rocked some SKA! Albanians don’t dance to rock music so we were the main attraction…crazy Americans…all good fun though, and no messy beer-fights like last year. ;)


I don't think I'm allowed to post pics of volunteers gezuar-ing with big mugs of beer, so instead here's one of the many dispenser tents

After MSC Chris and I jumped across the border through Pogradec, catching a bus around the rim of the lake to Macedonia’s summer tourist destination of Ohrid. This town is beautiful! There are houses built up the side of a mountain, stitched with narrow winding alleys leading to a castle at the top (hmm, sounds like home), all with spectacular views of the sparkling blue water below. Many of the houses have been restored and converted into inexpensive guestrooms, and there are several restaurants down near the water’s edge to eat at, or just drink coffee and people-watch (also sounds familiar…). My guidebooks says there are 364 holy sites scattered around town, though the most picturesque is Sveti Joni (St. John), a well-restored church perched at the edge of a cliff.



Panoramic of Ohrid's lake


Church of Sveti Joni

For the most part, Macedonia’s churches and monasteries survived throughout both the Ottoman occupation and communism-- no easy feat. During the 500 years of Ottoman occupation, churches were forbidden to be taller than mosques, and many were converted into mosques and reconverted back later. They now serve as monuments of religious and national pride-- which is currently all the rage as the citizens are pushing for EU status, despite opposition from Greece…


One of the many, many beautiful churchyards. This one is peacefully hidden away from the crowds and full of wild plum trees!

Lake Ohrid doesn’t have any natural sand beaches, but a few of the cafes built decks to put chairs or couches with awnings over, so there are pockets of cozy hang-out spots. At the opposite end extending away from the city is a biking/jogging path that stretches out toward the national park, and there are more cafes and grassy areas to picnic or set out blankets and swim. Thankfully the lake and town’s beauty has not been destroyed by overdevelopment; I wonder why Albanians didn’t take more clues from their nearby neighbor.


Fishing is a popular activity along the lake, all throughout the day. At night it gets more interesting with so many people doing a xhiro along the water...


Boats bobble in the lake waters


One of the coolest shops is a paper making/printing shop. The owner has an original Gutenberg press! They sell beautiful handmade paper cards and books and iconic prints, etc.

Anyway, we stayed with a Mak PCV, a friendly older woman who I think may be in a more posh-corp position than us. In the evening, after dining on pizza and salad along the water, we hiked up to the ancient amphitheater to watch a performance from the Summer Days festival. The stone steps were packed with families; we watched two women sing classical opera in Macedonian (which is a Slavic language with a Cyrillic script, and strangely not at all related to Shqip) until we got sleepy.


Crowds of locals entertained by Macedonian opera in the amphitheater

Chris and I continued on alone the next day to Bitola, a town 2 hours east where we have a PCV friend. I met this volunteer in Albania, when she came to host a facilitation training for OA club leaders-- super nice girl. We were pleasantly surprised to find that Bitola is a cool place—very much an ‘Austrian architecture meets Turkish quarters’, like a mini-Sarajevo. My first thought in foreign countries is how well their city planners have done—landscaped parks, public spaces, garbage collection…?!


Bitola's main road, grandiose architecture with many cafes suitable for people watching


One of Bitola's beautiful mosques

At the outskirts of the city there are some ruins from the ancient city of Hereclea, founded by King Phillip of Macedon in the 4th century BC. [King P is advertised everywhere in MAK! Their national hero en par with Albania’s Skanderbeg.] Bitola continued to be an important regional center due to its placement along the Via Egnatia, an ancient trading route that connected Rome to the east. During the Ottoman period the city was a central location for consuls, and it was here that the Albanian alphabet was unified into the modern script in 1908.



Beautiful 'curtains' of red peppers hand in the markets here, they are traditionally roasted with spices and jarred to keep for the winter. They become a delicious pepper paste called ivar


If one person is successful selling steamed corn, why not 10? No one has heard yet about over-saturating the market..

So anyways, we stayed two nights, the second night another friend came to town and we all splurged on Chinese food. Heather took us hiking in the mountains overlooking the city, which are dotted with some discarded military tanks from WWII. We went for coffee on the main drag, where everyone hangs out to people-watch and gossip. I really enjoy sharing Peace Corp experiences amongst other PCVs—so much is different, so much the same. There are many similarities in Balkan culture, and yet small treasures—unique foods, varying social and political problems, differing geography and landscapes, etc. Even life as a PCV can be totally different—one would assume total uniformity in such a large bureaucracy but in fact no, every country’s program is run on its own. We get different medical kits, water filters, training methods, and so on. I occasionally get the opportunity to call my best friend, Anne, who began her PC service in Guatemala a month after my departure, and am always amazed by how extremely diverse our lives are, even though we are both “health sector PCVs”. Check out her blog you’ll see what I mean!


We found a tank on our hike! It was discarded on the road somewhere after the terrifying so-called "zoo" and the village where we met a man carrying buckets of milk home

From Bitola, Chris and I continued by bus to the capital, Skopje, which is a big, well, city. Its crowded and has lots of highways and shops. We spent most of our time hanging out in the Turkish Quarter, which is full of mosques, shops, some Ottoman bath houses that have been converted to art galleries, and a few museums (which were sadly closed). Here is where we caught our first glimpse of the Albanian community. Well, perhaps I should say Kosavar community, because although they were speaking Shqip, (cool! We could understand speech again!) Kosovar-Albanians are of a totally different culture than Albanian-Albanians. First and foremost they are much more conservative, and the women dress covered head to toe—and for those who have seen my pics you’ll know that Shqiptare girls leave nothing to the imagination. And Kosavars actually practice Islam, which is not common here. My host family was completely unaware that Muslims don’t typically eat pork, or where/what Mecca is. In general, Albanians identify as Muslims only as a family name, and they are quick to tell you that it was a name forced upon them hundreds of years ago during the Ottoman occupation. [Families who took Muslim names didn’t have to pay extra taxes to the Turks, and generally had less restrictions than those who remained Christian.]


One of the alleys in Skopje's Turkish Quarters


Traditional han in the Turkish Quarters. Travelers would rest the night here during the Ottoman period. Those with animals stayed in the slightly larger downstairs stalls where they could tie up the horses.


General state of buildings in the old TQ. The streets are winding, narrow alleys full of completely useless shops and some restaurants, and sadly the whole area seems to be collapsing

In the evening we hung out at a refreshingly bohemian tea house (appropriately named New Age Tea), which was a darkly lit indoor-outdoor garden setting, decorated with hanging fabric and Indian art. We sipped mint tea and wrote/sketched until it grew crowded, then quietly paid our bill and slipped out. The next day we spent walking, walking again, taking pictures, sketching, and generally absorbing the city feel.


Restored Ottoman-era bridge connecting the old city to the newer sections and downtown. Along the waterfront there is a 7 km jogging/biking path that's popular in the am!


Chris was absolutely enamored by these tiny little cars that are so popular here. Every time we saw one he would grab my arm and beg "Come on, wouldn't it be great to buy one and drive across Turkey?!"

Just before our afternoon bus I found a macrobiotic vegan restaurant, Harmonije, and bought the most scrumptious seitan sandwich I’ve ever tasted. I know most people cringe when I say ‘macrobiotic’, a diet which I don’t normally ascribe to, but let me just convey the relief of opening a menu full of seitan, tofu, vegetable salads, quinoa/ amaranth, and various concoctions of creative platters and flavors. Mmmm, yum.


Inside a restored Turkish bath house, now art gallery.


Outside view of the bath houses

Back to Ohrid! The buses were kind of weird to us because: 1) they all collected in a central area called a “station”, which I haven’t seen in a long while, and 2) buying the tickets was sometimes required a day in advance and other times impossible until the bus actually arrived, and we were never really sure why. We also had to pay extra to get our tickets validated and again to bring backpacks with us. Isn’t that normally all included in ticket costs?

The last two nights we stayed again with the PCV in Ohrid, wandering the alleys, hilltop fortress, and lakeside “beaches”. Oh yes and picking shameful amounts of wild plums! Kiwis, figs, and plums were absolutely everywhere-- a tourist’s paradise.

View from the castle

Eventually our time ran out, so in the morning Chris and I caught a ‘wild taxi’ to the border and crossed back on our side of the lake. We were too late to catch the once-daily bus to Gjirokastёr, however, good fortune smiled our way and we got picked up by two French tourists on their way to Sarande. Score! We rode in their back seat, and passed the time listening to differences they noticed in Albania from their previous trip here in ’04.


This cow wanted to play 'chicken' during our face-off at the bridge. He won.

And we’re back, at least for now. I tried to really focus on getting work done and check in with all my counterparts, because we’re heading to Tiranё for our medical check-ups, and then after I’m going to the OA camp for a few days. Having said written that, I should mention that Gjirokastёr is a popular town for PCVs and we had on average 3-5 friends crashing on our couches every night since returning. I feel terribly guilty for leaving again so soon, but I’m not exactly carrying the world on my shoulders here anyways. Summer slumber will soon be over, and I’m glad to savor every moment of this before winter sets in…!


And we're back. Welcome home.

Beach Marathon!

Breathtaking views from the top of the Llogara Pass


Man selling honey and bee products at the top of the Llogara Pass.


Lotioning-up at our first beach south of the Llogara pass. Bunkers are so handy!

So Jess and Amy invited us to participate in a coastal adventure, exploring every beach along the bregdeti [coast] that we can’t really get to by bus. Our five-some piled into their Kia rental and wound our way south, stopping in Dhermi East and West (to cliff-jump and also where we found a non-flying kite), Jali (super laid back cove, up-and-coming European tourist haven), Borsh (full of olive groves, where we ended up camping for the night after visiting the waterfall café), Lukove, and finally, our beloved Ksamil. There’s a super cool restaurant in Borsh that has flowing waterfalls underneath the tables; we stopped there for a late coffee and ended up camping out on the long stretch of beautiful white sand. We built a campfire in complete darkness and they roasted sausages on sticks while I used a melon shell to boil water for macaroni and cheese. (My newly preferred method of camping food—easy and makes no garbage!)


Trying so hard to fly a rescued kite in Dhermi


Brief stop in Himara's Old Town, up above the city. Chris fell in love with an abandoned house here with a beautiful view of the ocean, unfortunately the owners live in Greece and refuse to sell it.


Beach number 3, Jali. We're starting to wear ourselves out...


Borshi's waterfall restaurant, shume bukur!

In the morning I opened my eyes to find a herd of oversized wild pigs roaming past our sleeping bags, hunting for garbage. We quickly packed up and, after a cell phone search that led us back to the waterfall restaurant, high-tailed it to Ksamil in order to get there in time to do an English/Life Skills “game day” with some of Megan’s students. Megan, Travis, and I organized some activities that focus on sun protection while at the same time helping them to practice English, followed by some swimming races between the nearby islands.


Morning in Borsh (no pigs in sight)


Sun Protection life skills with kids. We played games and had races in the water!

Have I mentioned how in love I am with Albania’s lower coastline? I’m so glad I get to witness it at this moment in time, when its just becoming accessible but not yet overdeveloped in certain places. Ksamil was once a small, quiet fshat (village) full of orange groves, and is rapidly growing, sprawling, and filling up with big hotels and beach bars. However, its still amazing, especially from April through June before the tourists flood in.


Beach-side with friends. Life in the Peace Corps is rough.


That's the sunset I was smiling about!