Rejoice with those who rejoice, Weep with those who weep

In spite of new roads, new politicians, new technologies, and a rising standard of living, some parts of life here are more impervious to change.  I'm talking about traditions revolving around major milestones in life like engagements, weddings, funerals, and the birth of new children.

Though we've been moved into our village home for only a month, we are getting a quick initiation into the ebb and flow of the culture in ways that we didn't experience living in Tirana, where folks live practically stacked on top of each other but might as well live miles kilometers apart.

Two days ago I was startled by a horrible wail out in the street.  It was the middle of the afternoon, a time of day my introverted self has come to relish for it's peacefulness.

The afternoons are almost sacredly silent here once summer arrives.  After lunch everyone goes inside and passes out in front of the ventilator (fan) to escape the heat. There are few shade trees in our part of the village, just the occasional fruit or olive tree. Some of our neighbors have artfully crafted frameworks of grape arbors to provide patches of respite from harsh rays in their front courtyards.

As the sun creeps lower towards the horizon, activity on our street picks up. The cool of the evening invites everyone out of the brick ovens of their concrete homes to fellowship with their neighbors and savor cool breezes.  Supper is eaten around 10 or 11PM and sleep comes again around midnight, before everyone wakes at dawn to get some work in before the heat descends again.

They say in the summer, they get two days for every one.

It didn't take long to figure out the cause of the mid-afternoon disruption.  Before long, our street was lined with vehicles, all seemingly centered around our neighbor's home, two doors up. There was a constant stream of visitors coming and going, all dressed in black.  The house that had been the center of a wedding celebration last week was now host to a pall of sadness.  Grandmother had passed away.

Yesterday morning, less than 24 hours her passing, a motorcade of vehicles (carrying all of the men) followed her body over to the village cemetery.  The women followed behind on foot.  It was 95 degrees.

The remainder of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday the family will gather and host guests -- mostly neighbors, but also friends from other communities.  They will be served coffee and cookies, and before leaving, the friend will leave a 500 lek bill (about $5) under the cup as a token gesture to help with funeral and burial expenses.  It's sort of a community life insurance policy.

I happen to know two of Grandmother's daughters-in-law.  Nathan decided to stay home with the children since we didn't know the protocol for visitation.  I decided to go to the home of the daughter who had married Grandmother's youngest son.  It was in their house that she had lived and in their house she had died.  (The elderly always live with their youngest son).  When I arrived I was shown into a sitting room lined with ladies dressed in black.  I expected the mood to be somber, but the women were chatting cordially and I was greeted with smiles (I was relieved because I wasn't sure what to expect from a culture that wears its emotions on its sleeve).  It had been almost 48 hours at this point and while her death was unexpected, Grandmother had lived a long, full life.

Introductions were made around as I met sisters-in-law, cousins, and friends of relatives who happened to already be in Albania visiting for pushim.  I was shown a seat and a young woman I didn't recognize walked to me with a tray holding a tiny cup of Turkish coffee on a saucer with a cookie. When my hostess introduced me, my children's heritage was immediately shared and to assuage curiosity, I pulled out my cell phone to show photos. When fluency fails, show photos.

Before long, I realized there were no men present.  When I asked, "Ku jane burrat?" I was told they were gathered at the home which hosted wedding dancing a week ago.  I wondered who was making and serving their coffee?

After staying about 25 minutes as if by some unspoken cue, the visitors in the room stood up at once to leave.  I followed suit, hugging and kissing my hostess and her family goodbye.  It was a conflicting moment, unable to (yet!) offer words beyond an "I'm sorry".

Tonight we visit another village home, this time to celebrate the marriage of a beloved daughter.  Ellie is excited to see a bride and wants to personally deliver our gift. The contrast of today's occasions can't be more stark, and I can't help but bring think of Paul's words from Romans 12:15, "Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep." What a privilege to live them out here.

Women's Day...

It's not easy being a woman in Albania.  Literally the announcement of your gender at birth can be cause for great disappointment and sadness in a culture that celebrates and idolizes its sons.

Then you grow and reach adolescence and your freedoms get stripped away.  No freedom to roam the neighborhood with your friends.  That bicycle you enjoyed riding?  Taken away.  Want to just run for the exercise or the fun of it?  Forget it.  Folks will talk and your parents will be shamed into keeping you home because they don't want to be blamed for for giving you too much freedom.  Then you marry and move into your husband's family's home and his family becomes YOUR family and you are asked to forget about where you came from.  You work for them and are so busy, you have no control over your schedule.  No time to let down and be with friends.  You care for your in laws.  You are under pressure to have a son.  All the while your appearance, your work ethic, and your lifestyle choices are under constant criticism of your family and neighbors. And the cycle continues.

Yes, it's tough being a woman in this culture.  

But one day per year you get a reprieve.  One day you get a break from the cooking.  One day you can forget your responsibilities, dress up, and laugh and dine with your girlfiends and for once enjoy being feminine.

Saturday in Albania was Women's Day.  We celebrated with some friends at a local country restaurant outside of Vlashaj.  It was all about food, friendship, and lots of fun!

There's a traditional dance that all women here know.  It's surprisingly difficult for as simple as it looks.  Or that could just be me...
I settled for documenting the dancing rather than participating in it. :-)

)

Throughout lunch women would leave their food for a moment and join others on the dance floor.  Periodically, Shpresa would lean over and say, "That dance is from the south of Albania," or, "That dance is from Tropoje," (more high knees and hopping -- think Irish river dance minus the clogs) and I could envision the women in their beautiful traditional costumes.

I included the video above so you could hear a snippet of the melody and cadence.

Interestingly, we learned that Women's Day in Albania (it's also considered "Mother's Day" here too) is believed to have roots in communist days.  Intersting...

Albanian 101

Tonight he did it.  He screwed up his courage and he did it.  Nathan ordered pizza over the telephone. And not in English.  At MTI they challenged us to simple, yet terrifying tasks such as this.  I'm a tad embarrassed we didn't try this sooner.  But tonight we were hungry (no new groceries 'til tomorrow) and didn't want to delay our supper any longer than necessary.

So how did he do?  We'll share the results at the end...

Probably one of the most common questions we got on the road last year was this:  what language do they speak in Albania?

Don't worry.  It didn't annoy us.  We love talking about Albania and this question only served as a great conversation starter.

The answer to that question is Shqip (or, Albanian).

One of our readers (okay, my sister) asked if I might share a little of what we're learning in Albanian class.  I was actually relieved to get her request because I've really been wanting to share here.  It's been so challenging, and hard, and frustrating, but also rewarding.  We love class, we love learning, and we love that we get to implement what we learn right away.  Here's how we're doing it...

Regimine

We've been in class since early October and have supplemented our classroom learning with three additional lessons per week with our language helper, Vera, using the language acquisition exercises (LAPs) we learned at MTI.  The two different approaches, in addition to individual study, have complemented each other well, but I don't know that one ever feels like he is doing 'enough'. In addition to morning study sessions five days per week, Nathan has been reviewing some basic Albanian through Pimsleur exercises while folding laundry or washing dishes and we like to try to catch the news via Top Chanel live streaming on the computer (we still haven't gotten around to getting a TV yet!).

Style of Learning 

Our instructors at MTI shared that new language acquisition comes much like we all acquired our first language, in a very specific order:  months and months of listening (comprehension) before eventually speaking, followed by reading those words we have heard for so long, and finally, writing.  Too much emphasis on speaking at the beginning of the acquisition process (part of the traditional classroom approach) only triggers fear and frustration on the part of the learner, which close the "learning gates" of our mind because the learner is usually forced to speak before he is ready.

This sequence of listening/speaking/reading/writing is utilized in our LAPs where we hear basic vocabulary and statements by Vera long before we ever begin mimicking her words and phrases and it's not until near the end of the exercise that we even see these new words written down (our connection to Albanian words is to first be audible and contextual for the new words to come into our heads more naturally and 'just sound right').  The idea is that the learner avoids the process of 'translation' (an extra step in the brain to slow us down) but rather unconsciously thinks 'another way to say that is...'.  So when we make vocab flashcards, when at all possible, we use pictures and Albanian words, avoiding English altogether if possible.  E.g. a photo of Toto on one side, the reverse reads "qen" (dog).

Of course I mentioned that we are taking a class which uses a more traditional, academic approach.  After my dad visited last month, he pointed out that we are learning with some pretty bright minds.  For over half of our class, this is at least their 3rd or 4th language to learn.  They find themselves in Albania because they bring skill sets not easily found in this country... so you get the idea. They are already top drawer for the nations they come from. In other words, to keep up with our classmates, we have to be diligent!  Thankfully we have a very patient and understanding teacher whose approach 'keeps our learning gates open.'

Background
It surprises many to learn that Albanian -- while rooted in the ancient Illyrian language -- has only had a standardized alphabet since 1908.  It has a number of words borrowed from other languages, but according to the experts, it sits on its own branch apart from all other European languages.  Albanian speakers can be found in neighboring countries like Greece, Macedonia, Kosovo, and Montenegro.

The Alphabet
Thankfully Albanian uses a Latin alphabet with only two characters we don't have in English (e pica - ë, and what we casually call a 'c-tail' (sounds like 'ch' and looks like ç).  Each letter of the alphabet has 1 unique sound (nothing of this c as in cat or c as in Cecilia or receive). this makes reading Albanian pretty straight forward once you know the phonics and have mastered the dozen or so sounds that we don't have in English.  A lot of them require that we exercise those lazy American lips of ours -- yes, we were told Americans are known world wide in linguistic circles as having "lazy lips!".  Confused?  Watch a YouTube of an African saying Coca Cola and watch yourself in the mirror say the same word... go ahead.  We'll still be here.

The alphabet also contains a number of digraphs (two consonants together that make a unique sound) which represent their own character in the alphabet, like gj (like if you were to mash together the words jello and yellow), nj (as in njoh that sounds like no + yo  and means to know), dh (sounds like th as in this or that, not 'th' as in thistle), xh (sounds like j as in Jenny), sh, zh, etc.

Digraphs were initially confusing for us is when it came to alphabetizing or looking up words in the dictionary.  For example, the word sofra comes BEFORE the word shtepi in the dictionary because sofra starts with 's' that comes before 'sh', the first character in 'shtepi'. All words starting with sh (of which there are many) are in their own section of the dictionary.

So those are some alphabet characters Albanian has which we don't have in English.  One character they notably don't have is "W" -- something we obviously noticed early on!  It took me a second to realize (when talking about nations and capitals) that Uashington was actually Washington DC.

Grammar Intro
I won't get into the nitty gritty of this but Albanian has some notable differences from English.

The first is the way they distinguish 'definite' from 'indefinite'.

For example, it's one thing to say, "Give me an apple" vs. "Give me the apple".  The first is indefinite, the latter is definite.

Albanian doesn't use articles, they just change the ending of the word to distinguish between definite and indefinite.

And to know how to change the ending of the noun, one must first know its gender (something else we don't have in English).  And there really is no standard rhyme or reason why a noun is a particular gender.  Like the word for 'dress' is fustan, which is masculline! ;-)  When all else fails, assume it's masculline, we've been told!  But gender is important because Albanian doesn't have the pronoun "it", so you refer to every object by its appropriate gender pronoun, he or she, even if it is inanimate.

For example:  I wore a coat today.  Can you go get him for me?

Albanian also has cases.  If you have studied other languages, you might be familiar with this concept.  Albanian has SIX.  One of the more 'unusual' cases is called Admirative.  It's a change in the verb form to show surprise.  I won't go into cases because we haven't really done more than scratch the surface in class yet.

Nathan and I bought this as a Christmas gift to ourselves. 

Verbs
Oh don't get us started on verbs.
Did you know there are 164 variations of the Albanian word that means "to come"?

There is generally a stem word for each verb and the ending changes depending on if the subject, tense, and case.  Though it's not always the ending of the word that changes, but the entire word itself.  But because it's assumed that you know all the verbs and their various forms, the subject pronoun is frequently dropped altogether from the sentence with the expectation that the listener can infer the subject from the form of verb used.

I could write the sentence, "I am American" as Unë jam Amerikanë.  But Albanians would think that's an unnecessary waste of breath or ink and say/write the sentence as "Jam Amerikanë."

But to write the sentence, "He is American." I could write "Ai është Amerikan" or more concisely (remember, no wasting!), "Është Amerikan."  And I know that the sentence translates "he" and not "she" (though they both use the same verb for 'is', "është") because of the masculine ending of "Amerikan."  To say "She is American."  I would have written, "Është Amerikanë."  And lest you say, "Oh!  That's easy.  The feminine has an extra vowel at the end!"  Except... when it's spoken, that vowel is SILENT!  So you can't 'hear' the difference unless you understand and remember the subtle nuance of syllabic emphasis (which to my ears, are super subtle) to distinguish the two!

There are three general categories of verbs which follow their own set of patterns for word endings, but for the most part, the conjugations just have to be memorized!

Below are all the ways to say "come" in all the tenses and cases.

So how did Nathan's pizza order get interpreted?
When Nathan called Tito's he asked for two pizzas.  One with ham and onion, the other plain cheese.

When Nathan arrived at Tito's, the baker was apologetic that our order wasn't finished since he could only bake two pizzas at one time in his small oven.  Nathan was confused for a moment before it dawned on him that that the pizza guy mistakenly thought we wanted TWO ham and onion pizzas and one cheese.

He kept telling Nathan, I could have delivered so you didn't have to wait!

Giving directions to our apartment?  It's confusing enough in ENGLISH!  Giving directions in ALBANIAN???  That will be our next challenge.  And you'll know we mastered it when you see a photo here of Nathan with his arm around Tito on our apartment landing, but not tonight!  Sonte ne do të hamë!  Tonight we will eat!

Stone by Stone...

Rozafa Fortress, Shkodra (2009)

We say, "Rome wasn't built in a day."

Albanians say, "Gur, gur behët mur."  Stone by stone the wall is built

One word at a time, we are learning the language.

One conversation at a time we learn another piece of this country's story.

One experience at a time, the eyes of our cultural understanding are opened a little bit more to see a bigger picture.

It takes time.  We might grow impatient but we are growing. And building our wall.

Beautiful Albania | Berat (Calling all window washers...)

While we have the girls with us this fall/winter/spring we want them to see and understand as much of Albanian culture as we can squeeze in.  We are fortunate that it's a small country and a lot of places can be seen in day trips, so we don't have the expense of overnighting.  Last month during Ryan's visit (and before the time change) seemed like a good time to visit the city of Berat so he (as well as Abby and Anna) could get a view of a different part of Albania (albeit less than 65 miles from Tirana).  Nathan and I last visited in 2004 so we were looking forward to returning, armed with a better understanding of what made this city unique.

I thought some of you might also enjoy a glimpse of this pretty little corner of Albania that, according to Reni, is usually filled with "broken stuff."  :-)   That little boy is pretty wise for his 52 months of life.

To give you a little context, Berat is nestled between two great mountains (Shpirag and Tomorr) and divided by a river (Osum).  There is a fantastic legend about two brothers named Shpirag and Tomorr who fought each other over a woman named Osumi, to the point where both died and Osumi drowned in her tears.  The story captivated Ellie's imagination -- and cemented the names of these geographical landmarks in my memory!

But Berat is primarily known for its dense concentration of Turkish architecture.  In a country brimming with partially built concrete houses and crumbling communist-style apartment buildings, this city holds a rustic charm that is a refreshing change from our typical views.

Also known as the city of a thousand windows, both sides of the river are lined with homes that literally appear stacked upon each other leaving many to joke, "If you fall out the window, don't worry, you'll just land on the roof."  

Above all these homes sits an immense castle/fortress that was built before 200 BC.  It was here where we spent most of our afternoon.

We drove partway up to the castle, then parked and climbed the remainder of the immense hill to reach the little town within the castle walls.  Upon reaching the top, we discovered there was ample parking.  Oops.  There is now a nominal admission charge (about $1 per person) to pass through the gate, but once inside, there are lots and lots of little stone alley ways to explore.  We wandered around looking for something to eat, but only found one place.

The restaurant was empty of customers but open for business in the early afternoon.  The owner dropped some menus in our laps then just as quickly picked them back up again.  In Albanian he said something to the effect of, "Forget this.  You should eat traditional Albanian food."

Then he started bringing plate after plate from the kitchen.  Thankfully, these Asburians are adventurous eaters and relished the opportunity to eat an authentic meal.  And thankfully, the bill was pretty reasonable, considering we didn't ask for a single item we were served (aside from our beverages) and we had no idea the prices for any of the dishes he brought out!

We found it quite ironic to be sitting under a needlepoint of what appear to be George and Martha Washington by Mount Vernon?  Or maybe it's Schonbrunn Palace?  Who knows, it just didn't appear to fit our surroundings!

I don't even know where to begin to describe the dishes we ate... they included beans with parsley (lower left), some sort of cooked spinach and egg (far upper left), cooked green and red peppers and ground beef (mid right), greek salad with white cheese (center),  byrek with cheese and spinach (lower center), and egg plant (lower right).  The peppers and beef dish was our favorite.

Byrek (burr-eck) -- the unofficial national dish of Albania -- is basically a savory layered pastry (filo dough) that depending upon where you are geographically holds cheese and some other filling like spinach, tomatoes, or chicken or ground beef.  It's best fresh out of the oven, but usually it's been made ahead of time and reheated (albeit not always thoroughly).  The best byrek I've ever eaten was at the Greek restaurant in Elbasan and was served on a hot iron skillet as a hot pocket of filo filled with chicken, cheese, tomatoes and mushrooms.

I'm a sucker for taking photos of arched wooden doors and stone walls...

Sadly, haze and dust clouded our view of the normally majestic mountain vistas.

Visiting places like this leaves me in awe of the heritage Ellie and Reni have running through their Albanian veins.  Such a hard place to live, wracked with centuries upon centuries of wars from invading armies in this crossroads between greater Europe and the middle east. At times like this their very existence seems miraculous to me.

An obligatory 'cannon shot'

Yes, this ancient stone road is just as slippery as it appears.  I can only imagine how horses and donkeys made it up in years gone by, pulling heavy loads.

Okay, I couldn't resist including this photo below.  

No, this isn't our vehicle, but it does seem like it's calling our name...

A small billboard outside of town confirmed the rumor we heard earlier that a whitewater rafting company had opened outside of Berat.  Adventure sports are still relatively new in this country (day-to-day life has enough excitement to meet most folks' need for adrenaline surges), so we are really curious about this possible activity.  Combined with the beauty of the city, I found myself wondering why this wasn't a tourist destination yet ... then we left the city limits and the road literally fell apart.  Our poor Caddy.  Maybe we won't be returning again for a while after all.

Directionally Challenged?

On top of our language class three days per week, we meet three evenings per week with our language helper, Vera.  These learner-driven sessions are dictated by language acquisition projects (LAPs) we were given during the language training at M.T.I.

During these times with Vera we have learned vocabulary and common phrases/commands for everything from rooms in the house to places in the community and ways to prepare food.  Today we learned the vocabulary related to the parts of our body around our head (neck, cheek, ear, eyes, nose, mouth, forehead, hair, neck, etc.) with the various verb forms for "to point" or "to cover" the specific part with our left or right hand.

One of our favorite parts of doing LAPs comes at the conclusion of all the progressions when we get to ask cultural questions related to the topic.  For instance, are there hand gestures that might be inappropriate here?  Do you have any expressions like "she has a green thumb" or he "talks out of both sides of  his mouth?"

Vera shared that Albanians have an expression for a ravenous person -- someone who chews on both sides of the mouth at the same time.

But the interesting gem was not a phrase or idiom at all.  She told us that in years past, most folks in the village did not differentiate between their "right" and "left", so when it came time to lead armies of villagers in the military, commanders came up with a unique method for giving directions.  They would give recruits an onion for their right hand and a clove of garlic for the left hand.  When wanting everyone to go right, they'd yell, "qepë!" (onion).  To go left, they'd yell "hudhër!" (garlic).

Supposedly, some people still remember their right and left this way!

So how do YOU tell your right from your left?  :-)

Cultural Slice of Life: Traditional Dancers

Still combing through my November trip images... a few more I'd like to share:

One morning driving back from Vlashaj Mandi spotted this performance taking place. We whipped over to the side of the boulevard and Tiana and I jumped out to grab some photos.

I don't know about you, but I think it's great to see that it's the kids doing the performing. It's reassuring to know that in the midst of rapid national change, some traditions are still being preserved and honored.