The one where I dance (gulp!)

This is our neighbor, Drita.  She lives two doors up the hill from us.  I am so glad I was able to attend the women's retreat The Family Church hosted for the ladies of the village in March 2013 because that's when I got to meet Drita for the first time.  

Drita has five girls.  Yes, five girls.  In this culture a son is SO important.  Why?  Because the youngest son is your retirement.  Daughters will be married off and join another family, but a son?  A youngest son?  He stays and lives with you until you die.  He will marry and his wife will take over your domestic responsibilities. You can manage the household, but turn over the more rigorous duties to someone younger. 

After five girls, Drita had her boy.  He grew up then went off to Italy to work and while there he found himself a wife. It doesn't matter that she's not Albanian.  They're celebrating here no differently.  Every night for eight nights the family has opened up their yard and turned on the music for a community party to celebrate that they are gaining a daughter. But last night, rather than waiting for sunset, the music started about 7:00.  We made our way over around 9:30.  The kids were excited to see what all the fuss was about (we could certainly hear it!)

We were greeted at the gate by a man holding a tray of sweet candies, then led by our hostess to seats on the perimeter of the yard.  These photos were taken early.  Apparently the party really pick ups after ten, then carries on 'til midnight or later.

These photos have no way of capturing how very loud the music is blaring.

 Yet Reni was able to do this:

Then this morning he pouted that he missed the wedding! ;-)

Watch this video here to get a real flavor for this place we call home (you might want to turn down your speakers):

But I have a confession to make. You know how people pray, "God, please don't send me to ____ so I don't have to eat ____."  I've never really had that fear (I guess because there's really nothing here that I wouldn't try in terms of food).

No, my fear is a little different.  My fear relates to the way they celebrate here.  It doesn't matter the occasion, dancing is almost always involved and I. Can't. Dance.  No way, no how.  It starts with the fact that I have no rhythm (the metronome was my best friend in piano lessons).   Then add two left feet...Anyway, they make it look so easy and I just feel rediculous.

If you saw the video above you might be thinking, "But that doesn't look too difficult."  It doesn't matter, oh, it's out of my comfort zone.

But, no sooner had we arrived, and I was pulled out on the dance floor.  So what do I do?  I stuff my pride and join in on the fun, of course.  And I even let Nathan shoot a video!  (P.S.  I had suspicions that this might happen so just in case, I wore a long dress to hide my missteps).  My daughter, on the other hand, has no such inhibitions.





I woke up in the middle of the night and I still heard music.  Then at 7:30 this morning, the music resumed, this time with live instruments.  And a couple hours later, this started up:




This was just to pick up the bride and bring her to the groom's home!  Can you imagine the noise when they leave together, married???

Nathan and I just shake our heads and wonder how in the world anyone survives 8 days of wedding celebrations.