A Bakery and Visiting an Albanian Village

I'm a little busy at the moment, so I can't write for long. However, I want to post a few pictures before they're too outdated and scribble down a few thoughts before they're gone.

I've recently become friends with the three bakers below. The shop is in a small concrete building. Other than the dough mixer, everything in the shop is visibly old and worn. At some point, I'll take more detailed pictures. To take up baking is an unfulfilled new year's resolution of mine. So, working and spending time with these people has reconnected with me that goal. 

Yesterday (4.27.2014), I visited my host father's cousin named Ferite. It took an hour and a half to walk to the village in which he lives. Ferite's house was absolutely beautiful. Each day, he, his wife, and daughter work their farm. When we left, they gave us raki that he made from his own grapes, cabbage, green onions, wild spinach, cucumber, garlic, and leeks. He also has chickens, turkeys, geese, and five cows. Inside his home, we shared stories, drank raki, and ate a delicious cheese that his wife makes from their cows' milk. It tasted like a mild and juicy mozzarella. After walking back home, we ate a dish called tarator--plain yogurt mixed with shredded cucumber and chopped garlic (both fresh from Ferite's).

Other than that, I'm doing well. I find out where I'll be living for the next two years on Friday. It's been raining today and I've been lethargic. I'm going to go spend some time with my host father so I'll end here. 

The owner of the bakery is on the left.

Finished Product

A bunker used for grape plants

My host mother's cousin with his children

A horse cart driver whom I met

My host mother, father, and his cousin's family

On the road to the family above

Me

A farmer whom we met on the way.

A 4-Ton bridge over the Shoombini River

Pishat Forest

Adriatik. His house is on the left and my host family is sitting on his porch

Korce, Bilisht, and Training

It's been raining off and on all day. Last night, I fell asleep listening to the rain steadily tapping on the metal awning outside my window. It's stopped for now, but I'll wait until it starts again to fall asleep.

During the weekend before last, all the trainees were sent to visit different cities to briefly experience the life of a current volunteer. My destination was Bilisht, a small city that's around five miles from Greece. 

I traveled by furgon with five volunteers who were heading in the same direction. The first leg of the journey took approximately two and a half hours. We stopped in Korce for lunch where I had my first cold beer in a long while. The volunteer whom I visited explained that the south of Albania is known for its art culture. Korce is a large city by Albanian standards, so I imagine that I won't be sent there. However, I was curious about the closed movie theater and two closed art museums. Working to open such places is too ambitious to think about concretely at the moment, but it's inspiring nonetheless. 

After lunch, another volunteer and I took a second, 30 minute furgon to Bilisht. There, we celebrated one of the volunteers' birthdays at the restaurant pictured below. The restaurant had eight to ten small tables and a modest cooking space. In the morning, all of our clothes smelled of smoke and yesternight's meal. 

Among the many great experiences during my visit, that restaurant was the highlight of my trip. I ate frog legs for the first time, tried many new dishes, got to help out in the kitchen, and this was all run by a single man (pictured below). What's more is that he's a fantastic singer! Serenading is a cultural heritage of southern Albania (particularly Korce). During that night and the morning when I returned, the owner and several of the customers sung dozens of serenades to lovers, odes to ale, and hymns to friendship. (Hopefully, I'll be able to recite a few at Islands once I return, huh boys?)

Since that trip, my life has been crammed with training. Most mornings, I leave Peqin at seven and return from Elbasan around six. During whatever "free time" that I have afterwards, I do homework and converse with my host family. What makes everything more tiring is the constant imperative to speak Shqip. Pre-service training supposedly is one of the most opportune times to learn Shqip. Despite the mental stress, I'm enjoying the learning process so I'm going to power through these last few weeks.

Other notes: What Russian competency I had has been decimated by Shqip. Even worse, I can barely articulate a full sentence in Japanese. However, for such costs, my Shqip is becoming much more natural. In my sparse spare time, I have been able to read English again for pleasure. Today, I finally returned to creative writing.

The Hemingway plaque next to the front door of my school. My translation: "Big ideas do not only need wings/arms, but also ground from which to take flight."

A shot of Peqin's town center and mosque. I'll probably be taking a lot of these throughout my service.

The furgon stop on the way to Korce/Bilisht

The orthodox church in Korce and a statue of an Albanian patriot

Morning serenades. The owner is the man on the left. 

The restaurant where I at frog's legs. I made the dish on the left with the owner. It consists of chopped pepperoncini, garlic, tomato, oregano, and Albania's feta-ish cheese. He put a lid on the pan and cooked it on a low heat until the cheese melted. Super delicious!

Another shot of the forest (Pishoot or Pishat?) 

Adriatik Lluca, a good friend of mine. I need at least a whole post to talk about Adriatik. For now, I'll say that he's a carpenter, has a 25 meter well from which I get my water, and currently has nine dogs.

Host family and me

On the left are the three children of the couple whose shop I go to for most everything. The girl's name is Casey.

Mountain Picnic

I and my site mates recently hiked the mountains on the side of Peqin opposite the Shkoombini River. We took a steep path up the hill, but we eventually hit a flat dirt road that snakes between the mountains. According to my host father and his brother, it's a four hour hike to Tirana along these paths.

Everywhere, there are farms and you can hear the echos of sheep in the distance. The hills are carved into steps of olive trees. On the flatter grounds, there are potatoes, grapes, and more olive trees. It seems to me that so many people in Peqin already have lemon and orange trees that few farmers grow either commercially.

Besides green hills, there were also also many mounds of some of sort of clay or mud. I included a picture of them below. My host father claims that you can use the clay as shampoo.

Peqin. The Shkoombini River is on the other side of the city.

One of the many bunkers near Peqin.

Graffiti in Peqin. "Zemra" means heart.

Host mother and father (Hatiche and Gavrosh Lluce)

Host father with the tiles that he makes